trouble any day
WHO: Troy, Rose
WHERE: On the way to the po-po's office! In an alley. :U
WHEN: 6/26, wheneverhegoestowork o'clock
WARNINGS: Rose is a meanie :[
FORMAT: No
Twenty-five days.
Twenty-five days and Rose was no closer to finding Deathstroke--father--than she was the evening she spotted him. The evening she was determined to finish it once and for all and failed. Again. Twenty-five days since she'd been home, since she'd sat down to a decent meal--hell, since she'd cleaned up proper. There wasn't any time for that. The longer it took her to find him, the less likely she'd ever find him.
Rose wiped at her cheek and growled. It still stung from the burning strike she'd received. What the hell was that about? Did the porter give Deathstroke fire powers to go along with his arsenal of problems to deal with? Either way, it didn't change the fact that her blind side was already disfigured enough without that burn.
Ripping up the underworld wasn't doing any good. It was time to walk up the ladder. Apparently the city was making its way to having an almost legitimate police system. Almost. Ported-in weirdos had their mitts all over it, so nobody could ever say it was genuine and expect to be believed. At least, as far as Rose was concerned.
Two more blocks and she'd be there. But it was already starting to sound like a bad idea, showing up the way she was. She propped herself up against the side of a dumpster, staring out of the alley at the street ahead, chewing on her lip. Time was short, and getting shorter.
Maybe if I just broke in later...
WHERE: On the way to the po-po's office! In an alley. :U
WHEN: 6/26, wheneverhegoestowork o'clock
WARNINGS: Rose is a meanie :[
FORMAT: No
Twenty-five days.
Twenty-five days and Rose was no closer to finding Deathstroke--father--than she was the evening she spotted him. The evening she was determined to finish it once and for all and failed. Again. Twenty-five days since she'd been home, since she'd sat down to a decent meal--hell, since she'd cleaned up proper. There wasn't any time for that. The longer it took her to find him, the less likely she'd ever find him.
Rose wiped at her cheek and growled. It still stung from the burning strike she'd received. What the hell was that about? Did the porter give Deathstroke fire powers to go along with his arsenal of problems to deal with? Either way, it didn't change the fact that her blind side was already disfigured enough without that burn.
Ripping up the underworld wasn't doing any good. It was time to walk up the ladder. Apparently the city was making its way to having an almost legitimate police system. Almost. Ported-in weirdos had their mitts all over it, so nobody could ever say it was genuine and expect to be believed. At least, as far as Rose was concerned.
Two more blocks and she'd be there. But it was already starting to sound like a bad idea, showing up the way she was. She propped herself up against the side of a dumpster, staring out of the alley at the street ahead, chewing on her lip. Time was short, and getting shorter.
Maybe if I just broke in later...