annie are you okay, are you okay? [closed & finished]
WHO: Mello (virucide) & Brian Moser (salvationdenied) -- open to Matt (lungrot) via phone, if he'd like!
WHAT: Revenge. (See this.)
WHERE: The center of town, and then an anonymous hotel room.
WHEN: Day 75, late at night.
WARNINGS: Very, very graphic violence. This is rape, so proceed at your own risk.
The streets were full of bustling movement, clumps of strangers caught under the occasional glare of a lamp or the flash of headlights, and amidst it all Mello walked. The sidewalk was surprisingly narrow, and he focused on where he was headed, wholly unused to taking to this method of transportation where he usually just drove Rosaline. His Ducati was infinitely faster and easier than going home on foot, but tonight he needed the change of pace, the distinct lack of speed, the claustrophobia sometimes found in crowds. His thoughts were running a mile a minute, thinking over everything his informant had provided him only an hour previous about his newest hit. It wouldn't be hard so long as he could find the right strategy.
There was a nasty bruise purling the skin of his jaw, but if anyone noticed, they dare not comment. Besides, it wasn't like bruises were unusual ailments in Reggio -- in fact, they were pretty commonplace for such a vicious city. So it didn't matter.
He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket, head ducked down as he passed by restaurants, clubs, and everything in between, the street alive with activity. He cut a corner into an empty alley, and there the sounds of the city muffled significantly to hushed whispers.
WHAT: Revenge. (See this.)
WHERE: The center of town, and then an anonymous hotel room.
WHEN: Day 75, late at night.
WARNINGS: Very, very graphic violence. This is rape, so proceed at your own risk.
The streets were full of bustling movement, clumps of strangers caught under the occasional glare of a lamp or the flash of headlights, and amidst it all Mello walked. The sidewalk was surprisingly narrow, and he focused on where he was headed, wholly unused to taking to this method of transportation where he usually just drove Rosaline. His Ducati was infinitely faster and easier than going home on foot, but tonight he needed the change of pace, the distinct lack of speed, the claustrophobia sometimes found in crowds. His thoughts were running a mile a minute, thinking over everything his informant had provided him only an hour previous about his newest hit. It wouldn't be hard so long as he could find the right strategy.
There was a nasty bruise purling the skin of his jaw, but if anyone noticed, they dare not comment. Besides, it wasn't like bruises were unusual ailments in Reggio -- in fact, they were pretty commonplace for such a vicious city. So it didn't matter.
He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket, head ducked down as he passed by restaurants, clubs, and everything in between, the street alive with activity. He cut a corner into an empty alley, and there the sounds of the city muffled significantly to hushed whispers.