In the night, along the streets of District 1, Eleanoire finds herself exposed to the dangers of the slums.
The Lion, the Writer, and the DruggyEdit
- Eleanoire rode back casually on her BMX , a pizza box laying on her lap and slowly burning her thighs threw the fabric of her shorts, although it was night, the summer made the evenings warm. She rode the bike into the abandoned parking lot and chucked the pizza box on the couch, rubbing the red tops of her thighs in a grumpy manor before leaning her bike up against the garbage bins, settling herself down on the cleaner of the three couches and flipping the boxes lid, taking a single bite from one of the slices to taste it before shoving it away again. Taking out her pouch of tobacco and began rolling a joint, attempting to put something decent on the TV whilst doing thus but the crappy signal forcing her to stay with the days news. Taking the newly rolled joint and pushed it over the oil can that had been burning away nicely, lighting it on the flames and taking a drag.
Diversity: There was a major downfall to living without the security of doors and protective walls. Intruders were constantly wandering, rambling for prey as they meandered through the District 1 slums. Two men were poking around this territory, having heard about a fine young thing who’d taken residence up in the streets. One was topless, his fists bandaged and wearing simple jeans, the other one close in attire save for his old Levi shirt that which had been worn so thin and aged that the logo was faded. One man spotted her as she moved to pull out a piece of pizza and a sick, hungry grin spawned with lascivious intent across his features. When you let the darkness fall on D1 and you remained out in the dark, the darkness came to steal you away. They walked in on her, beginning to unleash a series of wolfish whistles as one reached back to assure his gun was resting neatly tucked into the back of his pants. The other’s was holstered in his boot beneath his jeans. “Mm, good evening to me.” One said. “Nah bruh, this looks like my kind of late night specialty.” He winked and glanced over to Eleanoire. The first man rubbed his hands together while the second came forward closer to the couch, both of them looming over her short stature. “How much baby?” One said very bluntly in a low and wanton inquiry, not at all sounding as if they were going to take no for an answer.
Remedies: A rickety sound of peddling went down the dark streets. The old black bike, which had rusted over the years of use, had a small light that only did as much as blink and fade off unless Jezzi tapped it with her hand. Night had fallen too quickly for Jezzi. She had lost track of the time and now was stuck going in circles. There was no way she wanted to be stuck in D1 for the night. Strange things happened down here after hours. It was a mad man’s playground and for her safety, she wished she had stayed at home. A rumor had been going around town of something strange happened. No truth ever came out of it, but still she had gotten carried away in taking a few pictures of the scenery of D1. A lot of the people were nice, especially the children who played in the street. They laughed and let Jezzi play along with him. Honestly, it gave her the biggest smile ever. Jezzi loved kids the most. They were what gave her some of the greatest ideas for her writing. She never could connect with anyone because they thought so simply. With children, Jezzi could listen to them create order in chaos, a ship in a wreckage, and hope when all was gone. It saddened her when the sun was setting which meant it was time for them to go and for her to part. Frustrated, Jezzi continued to peddle until her front wheel hit a small shard in the rode. Slowly, the air pressure started to dwindle down. “Well, fuck me,” She grumbled and hopped off the bike before pushing it against a stone wall. Voices caught her off guard. Maybe they had a pump. Jezzi slowly edged into a dimly lit alleyway that was filled with couches and a fire, with her fingers searching for the glock that was in her satchel. “Hello?” She asked timidly.
Repulsive: Half way threw eating the slice of pizza her jaw dropped, her facial expression changing. Normally the only time people would come in at this time at night was for trouble, or the occasional hobo wanting somewhere to crash. Both normally ended in things being stolen. She furrowed her brows and looked them both over, they both being alot bigger than her, and by the look of the way they walked maybe a little intoxicated and in an irational state of mind. She flicked the end of her joint to get rid of the ash building up on the end and sighed, listerning to what they had to say before pointing outside. "There is rows and rows of prostitutes out there that you could take advantage of, some you wouldn't even have to pay, just give them a line and they will do whatever you want. I'd appreciate it if you left the way you came and let me enjoy my evening of pizza and smokes.." Taking a deep and needed drag on her joint. "But if you really do wanna offer me money, you can buy this pizza off of me for $10." Pointing to the open box. She looked over her shoulder at how far away her bike was, and contemplated if it was a smart idea to make a run for it or not. Slowly and slyly packing some of her things, wallet, smokes, lighter etc into her pockets, watching the small and frail looking woman follow in after them, rubbing her temples. She was in no mood to deal with people, leaving would now become all the more complicated. Diversity: The men hovered over her wickedly, libidinous expressions depicting that she wasn’t going to get away until they were filthily sated of their wanton and heady lusts. As soon as she said something about the pizza boxes and moved to shuffle her things together in secretiveness, the man second man would grab her by her feet and if she’d not gotten away, he’d yank her across the sofa and stretch her legs far apart, pulling her hips right to his and looming over her to keep her from running. “That’s not what I’m lookin’ to buy.” He growled out. Just at that time the first man looked back, watching guard so that they’d be safe while they took turns on Eleanoire. When another woman approached with a hand in her satchel, the first man immediately drew up his pistol and aimed it square at her head. No shake in his aim, nothing at all as his expression grew quite serious. “Put the bag down, don’t be stupid.” He said, as he then tilted his head. “An’ get on the sofa next to her. You shouldn’t have been nosy.” He said with a wicked sneer, finger on the trigger ready to riddle a hole in her if she didn’t prove to be useful to the two attackers’ goal.
Remedies: Jezzi froze in her step. Fear trailed down her body as she quivered in the stance. With a flip of the switch of her camera to it’s second function, Jezzi shifted it around until the lens would face the front of the satchels opening and if the top of her satchel was lifted the blinding explosive flash would go off. She pulled her hand away from her satchel. “I was just looking for a pump,” Jezzie mumbled and pulled the brown bag off her shoulder and tossed it to the side. With her small hands raised, she bit her lower lip that gleamed with a rosy lip shine. She felt stiff with her movements, the sofa seeming so far away. Finally, Jezzi climbed onto the rickety sofa, bringing her knees to her chest with her blue locks falling in her face. “I promise not to go running my mouth if you let me go. Monkey see no evil or hear no evil, right?” She cocked her head up to the two men and stared at them with her large timid auburn eyes. How did she get herself into this mess? If that tire just had popped a few miles up the rode, she would have been fine. Fine.. yeah right.
Repulsive: Backed herself into the sofa as they came closer, quickly becoming paniced by there lack of reason. a slight growl escaping her lips as he took ahold of her, lashing out at him by throwing a couple swings at his jaw, no doubt only angering him more. "Well thats the only thing that's for sale here!" Looking to the woman that had just entered in attempt to get her help, her eyes quickly widening at the sight of the man pulling a gun, shifting back even further in her seat. "Put that god damn thing away! There is no need to be using weapons.." Barking at him. She didn't try and run, but she attempted to hop from the couch to the pile of matresses and grab the pistol that was placed on the oil can behind them, things would be even then. Two women and two guys, one gun each.. Maybe there was a chance of compramise. She simply face palmed with a sigh as the other woman was complacent, she could of easily ran off from where she was and not of gotten shot, it would of also been a good distraction for her to make her escape. "Thanks.." She muttered.
Diversity: The second man didn’t give Eleanoire a chance to grab the gun. He pulled her by his grip on her boots and jerked her hips against his, mashing into them in a grinding motion. “Gatdamn at these thick thighs…” He mumbled. “Love it when I got something to grab onto real tight…” He seethed as the other woman made her way to the sofa. The other man kept a gun aimed between them. “Hurry up and take your turn, I’m dying to get started.” He said as he glanced to his partner in vicious sexual crimes. The second man holding Eleanoire’s legs open was stronger than she was most likely, and with his callous fingers digging into the textile of her boots he did make sure she couldn’t just run. “If you’re gonna’ act so dumb, I’ll just take what I want. That’s what we’re good at, right?” The other man commented. “Hell yeah.” Regardless of her scrambling and punches he wouldn’t have stopped as he slid his hands up from Elly’s ankles to her knees then to her thighs, keeping them spread wide and pinning her to the sofa. He was leaning in, trying to get the fabric of her shirt in his teeth so that he could tear it off and go for her nipple, but he didn’t get quite that far. “Territory.” A low, bass-deep voice rumbled from a hidden figure. The man stopped assaulting Eleanoire as he glanced back and the other man kept his gun aimed on the women. “Back off bud, we found ‘em first.” He glanced back but the voice came back again. Thick, masculine, intimidating. “Let me rephrase that. You’re in /my/ territory.” He said with a slight gravelly growl lingering in his powerful chest as he emerged from around the corner, his arms crossed across his chest. The man was about 6’4, obscured by a black hoody and his long thick legs clad in dark jeans with a leather belt holding them up. Simple Chuck Taylors were on his feet, and with his hands revealed he looked to be a black man. “And?” The second man let go of Elly and stepped back. The first man made sure she didn’t move for a gun while his was aimed at them. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlmezywdxPI ) The second man came towards the tall black man in the hoody, his face obscured as he would raise a hand and sling a powerful fist. But the mystery man raised a hand and caught the attacker’s fist in his palm. His fingers squeezed the assailant’s hand until the bones started to crack. The man once between Eleanoire’s legs began to whimper and hiss as he tried to jerk his arm free. “F-Fuck let me go!” The mystery man’s arm suddenly came out of left field, his opposing left hand coming slamming into the side of the palm’s head with an open palm. His fingers curled around the side of the man’s head and he squeezed the skin against the skull as he pulled the man back up, glaring at him from beneath the hood. The man saw something he didn’t like in the shade of Mufasa’s hood as suddenly Mufasa released his head. The man scrambled to run only to find Mufasa’s fist slamming into the center of his beck that made him fly forward and land on his knees, sliding against the floor before he hit the ground with a yelp. The second man aiming a gun at the girls turned the gun now on Mufasa and began to fire. Bang bang bang! But the man was moving suddenly, his body moving faster than most would think as he came up and grabbed the barrel of the gun and ripped the pistol out of the girls’ attacker’s hand. He tossed the pistol aside and reached forward, grabbing his shirt and then head-butting him. Blood spurted out in a rushed mist of red as Mufasa’s head came back and he watched the man go limp in his grip from a concussion. He dropped down to the floor and Mufasa, seeing that his hoody was stained in blood, began to draw the hood back and pull it off. Revealed beneath was the musculature of an MMA fighter or maybe a body-builder. He was sculpted of smooth dark chocolate skin in the given light, with eyes of a deep homely brown that were piercing and sharp. His upper body was clad in a tank top that outlined every rippling crest and fall of muscle below the textile. His face though- drew the most attention. A slight gaunt made his cheeks accentuating and aesthetically alluring, the definition of his cheekbones added in giving him a seriousness that was hard to rival. His angled jawline and flirty full lips made him look youthful, but his eyes and the way his groomed brows set above them was a man who was undeniably from District 1 and had made his own way. “You girls okay?” Tau said as he glanced down to the other two, one still awake but doing nothing more than writhing on the asphalt in pain. His piercing, unnerving gaze rose back to the two women to assure they were all right.
Remedies: Jezzi had tightened her arms around her body from protection as the other man moved towards the girl she had been forced to sit next to. She couldn’t help but sniffle softly. She was scared, what more could be said? The gun was mocking her in a way, like it was teasing her with its cold steel. She should have ran; She would have been safe. Safe didn’t exist anymore, come to think of it. Jezzi had tried her best to stay out of trouble. Tried and failed. Jezzi clenched tighter into the fabric of her shirt, her nails digging into her sun-kissed skin. The men started to sneer and handle the girl until a voice came out of the darkness. It was a deep voice- terrifying really. Jezzi sucked in her breath and narrowed her eyes. Soon the two demeaning asshats we’re curled up on the ground like little babies. It had taking this man no time at all. Jezzi stared, with her jaw open a slight bit at him. “Thank you, sir,” She nodded before hopping off the sofa and running to grab her satchel. “I’m sorry about coming in here,” Jezzi said flustered. She did not open the slip knowing it would go off if she did. Instead, Jezzi slung it around her shoulders and stared at the two for a long hard moment.
Repulsive: She kicked her legs , throwing punches when she could in attempt to free herself from the mans grip, trying to push his face away from her chest with his hands. "Remove yourself from me!" Looking to the other woman who sat next to her for any form of help at all, only to be quickly saved by the mystery man. People don't just get saved around here, they always want something, or he wanted the same thing they did. At her first chance she moved over to the oil barrel and picked up the pistol, loading it and pointing it at the mystery man whilst relighting her joint again that had gone out in the struggle. "What on earth do you want, money? I don't have any money.. I don't know about her though." Indicating to the blue haired girl. She was rather free with how she held the gun, not even having used one before, trying to put up a front to get him to leave her alone. A relaxing night of pizza, smokes and TV quickly being ruined by lust filled men, she wasn't going to let him be another of them. "Pleae just turn around, and leave.. " Treating this place as her own, completely forgetting he had called it as his territory. She could of been tresspassing.
Diversity: Mufasa stared at the plump one who took a gun and readied it in his direction while the other one seemed more… passive. He recognized both- though the one holding him a gunpoint seemed to be feisty. He ignored the gun-wielding dame for a moment and looked instead to the blue-haired girl grabbing her satchel. “If you want to run, go ahead.” He said in his deep, almost predatory tone. “I won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason to.” Mufasa’s eyes were deathly serious as he then looked down her form, letting his eyes drift until they were at her feet and made their way back up to her face. “Aren’t you a journalist? Think I’ve seen you on the TV before… This, right here…” He waved an arm around. “Is no story you’re to write about. Before you go you promise you don’t speak a word of this elsewhere…” His brows lowered over his knees, his expression growing grim and eerie as his full lips pulled back for majestic and yet dominating words. A promise. “Or I will find you.” He glanced then to the woman with the gun and he showed no fear, only apathy. But something briefly flitted by. “You live here, don’t you? In these slums.” Mufasa’s voice sounded almost animalistic in nature just by its depth and how it rumbled and vibrated up from the broad, hard planes of his chest. “Put the gun down. I want to talk. Heard you sell something I need.” Mufasa then stepped forward as he would be ready to reach up and take the gun from her, also ready to be shot. “I need to do business with you, not violence. Let’s keep it that way.” Mufasa was firm and his eyes remained locked onto hers.
Remedies: “If I see a story, I’ll write it,” Jezzi said quietly under her breath. She stared intently at the two. “What happens if I do write about this? You can’t expect a journalist to be quiet,” She gripped tightly onto the leather of her satchel. She gulped and brushed back her blue hair behind her ear and furrowed her black brows. It was best if she took her leave. With a firm nod, Jezzi turned her back on the two and away from the stench of the trash. She looked at her bike and sighed. ‘I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she thought to herself and kicked the metal of her bike before walking out into the dark of the night.
Repulsive: Furrowed her brows as he approached her, never pulling her gun away from a clear head shot, almost lifting it to touch his forhead, he being alot taller than her. "I'm not putting the gun away, I don't know you, or do I trust you. You have to earn that, if you want to talk to me the gun stays, and there is no compramise." Her confident front quickly becoming obviously fake by her juttery, trembling hand. She didn't know how to shoot anybody, who was she kidding? Watching the girl head to walk out. "I would appreciate it also if you didn't write about this, I don't need my place here being compramised. Nor do I want my life going public." She tossed the bud of her joint into the fire and brushed herself down, ajusting her clothing along with her stance. "Plus, my situation has been compramised due to past events, I have no stable living area, what makes you think i'll be able to get you anything?" She settled her ass back down on the photo, her gun still aimed at him as she returned to eating her pizza.
Diversity: He watched her shake and tremble, her words displaying confidence in their order but not in their truth. He could see right through her, absorbing her body language. And his completely still, fearless stature standing over her would almost assert his dominance over her. But he cracked a faint smile that curled his full lips. “Not right now. I just need to make good ties, for later. But I can pay you now- if you can promise me delivery by the date I give.” Mufasa stepped to the side and then lowered his brawny self down upon one of the sofas, leaning forward and folding his arms over his knees. “I think you’ve been spooked by all the wrong people in this shit-hole.” He said almost protectively. But he knew he had to be this way, fatherly, to the right people to draw them in. To protect them, and thus gain their trust. “Call me Mufasa. If you scratch my back, I can scratch yours.” In countless ways. He could probably even put her in a home, get her back into a building, get her some protection. But later on down the road- right now they just needed the proper introduction.
Repulsive: She murred and watched him sit down beside her, pulling the box of pizza closer to herself in an greedy manor, still stuffing her face. Brushing one hand against her wrist to get the crumbs on. Laying the gun on her knees and pulled her tobacco etc out of her pockets, lacing the paper with tobacco and weed, rolling it between her fingers and turning it into a joint. Sparking it up infront of him, without much thought. "I just told you, I have no place to stay, i'm not going to harbour drugs just walking around, i'm not carrying stuff on me whilst i'm stuck out here, its dangerous enough as it is!" She murred, blowing smoke in his face on accident. "People around here arn't nice, and some of them are very good at playing the nice guy, and not being nice. " Making her dislike for him being here very obvious. "You have no other reason to be here I assume?"
Diversity: Mufasa shook his head as his smirk grew. It was almost depraved and devious for a moment as his dark eyes lifted to hers. "You didn't listen." He said darkly. "I said, later. Not now." He knew the gun was on her lap but he didn't care. He would be able to take it or defend himself if need be as he watched her. "There's two options here. You can make a deal with me, work for me faithfully under my watch without a tight leash unless you make me give you one... And be protected by me and my men." My men? Who was this guy? "I'm not nice." The man said and his words were raw and visceral as they came quietly from his lips. "I'm an opportunist. This is an opportunity. The decline of this opportunity will leave you here, to be beaten..." His words hit hard each tme. "Stolen from... And fucked like you owe the streets the sugar-pit between your legs." He said heartlessly as he nodded. "I'll give you some time to make the decision."
Repulsive: He wasn't understanding her, with a mouth full of pizza she said. "I am in no situation to help you, I am already running away from someone called Keyth after a drug deal gone bad, I can't even return to my home!" Sighed lightly after finishing her mouthfull. "I understand this is 'your teritory' , and if you want I shall move along, but I am no possible way to do work with you."
Diversity: He smirked and rose up to his full height of 6’4. His musculature rippled with every motion, terrifying and defined. “Keyth Tasanagi. So I’ve heard.” He said with a soft ‘tch’ sound to follow it. He turned away from her. “You can stay. I’ll be watching little squirrel.” He chuckled darkly and began forward, his long legs carrying him towards the street again. On his way, he reached down and grabbed one of the men in each hand, taking them by the backs of their shirts. Straightening up they hung, one man from each hand, their arms and legs dragging the ground as Mufasa carried them out. He’d keep his eye on her, as he disappeared. Street Raion, would keep an eye on her. She posed as a possibly helpful ally in securing a drug market. But right now she was on the run from Tasanagi- fucking Yakuza scum. He’d see to it that she found his graces a little too good to deny down the road. That, or she’d see why the few who knew of the sly beasts known as Street Raion were called the predators of the concrete jungle.