radioactive's Invite Request
ROLEPLAY RESUME: Click to view radioactive's Roleplay Resume
MATURE RESUME: Click to view radioactive's Mature Resume
I AM LOOKING FOR...
One on One Roleplays,
Chat Roleplays
GENRES I AM INTERESTED IN...
Modern,
Romance,
Paranormal,
Horror,
Historical,
Medieval,
Fanbased,
Fairy Tale,
Grimdark,
Realistic
OTHER GENRES AND THEMES I LIKE...
I tend to stick to a more modern realistic RP. I really enjoy character development. I like a partner who can write a lot, and can either match the length or add a little extra to it.
THINGS I -DON'T- LIKE IN ROLEPLAYS...
I tend to get out off if a RP falls below two paragraphs, and really dislike one liners. I dislike unrealistic things to the RP. For instance rain healing wounds, ect - that is of course if the RP isn't fantasy.
CONTACT ME THROUGH...
Visitor Message, Private Message
MY USUAL ROLEPLAY POSTS WILL LOOK LIKE...
(This is a starter post, so it is a bit longer than the regular posts)
Passing by the old deteriorating blue corrugated warehouse during the day would cause most to assume it was nothing more than an abandoned depot on the water's edge. Those people, although rare, were naïve. They had no insight into the world which dwelled in that dark, damp building. Grey chain link fences line the open yard which houses an overabundance of huge boxcars. Three large garage doors line the front of the building's street entrance, and along the multiple floors blue panels were replaced with beige ones giving the building a patchwork look. The district, Hutchings, is notorious for its uninhabited buildings, and dying businesses. Nights though are vastly different. The dark saunters in like a pack of wolves on the prowl. Letting loose all of its revolting intentions with just the act of the sun lowering.
Hutchings held the promise of being lively before the shadows took over. Two black vehicles arrived, each fifteen minute apart, and each driving within the speed limit and with the utmost care. Grooved doors opened as soon as the cars arrived, before there was even a moment to brake, almost as if it was a play being orchestrated for those watching. From there the only thing suspicious onlookers noticed was silence. It was as if nothing had happened there in the first place… But on the inside of this operation, there wasn't anything even bordering quiet.
Once the garage door clanked shut, the first car door opened to reveal Andrei Varenkov standing at a staggering six foot one, his speckled salt and mostly pepper hair shaved close to his head. Creases line the center of his forehead, and beneath his cobalt colored eyes the sockets have slowly caved, creating their own array of wrinkles. As much as age had been kind to him, it was catching up. The gleam which had once inhabited his eyes had turned cold and calculating. Business had made him a man of his word and an atrocious, heartless man of his word at that. Despite any people he had grown accustom to, he lived by the precedent that business was just that, regardless of those who stood in the way, intentionally or not. The operations he ran were equivalent to dogs eating dogs, and that was exactly how he encouraged it to be so long as he was in control of all moves made.
One of his most trusted men, Ivan Mattel, also climbed from the cushy leather seats. Ivan collected and oversaw the majority of the Varenkov operations to ensure they ran smoothly. He was a brawny tall man, with a head full of dirty blonde hair. Never was he underdressed, or without the comical look on his face. Behind the thin lipped sneer there was a man just as cruel as Varenkov, the scars scattered among his bare skin were enough to prove just that. Next to exit was Aaron Welch; he was nothing more than a source who offered up information for a debt he failed to pay. The gun which had been used to coax Welch into leaving with them was still tucked in the back of Ivan's pants. Welch had been there before, never quite as indigenously comfortable as the others who accompanied him. No this man was clearly on edge, jittery, and struck silent with fear. With due cause of course, the previous visit had been pleasant compared to this one. Though his debt had been raised tenfold, maybe even twenty fold depending on who you asked.
None of them had anything in their hands. Both Varenkov, and Ivan knew what they needed would arrive with the next car. Instead, they moved out of the large unloading room, and into the massive storage facility with Welch in between them. Among the disorganized storage containers scattered about the warehouse there was a large clearing in the center of the building. A table and two chairs waited for them beneath towering shelves. The silence among them likely felt strained to Welch, but the other two were accustom to it. When all stood in the clearing Ivan removed his gun from underneath his black suit jacket, and used the gun to point Welch to the chair.
The second vehicle to arrive was another of Varenkov's most trusted individuals, who was deemed an enforcer of the organization. Of average height, and darker rigid facial features he was the complete opposite of Ivan. Under normal circumstances both men wouldn't have accompanied Varenkov on what was considered a grunt escapade, but tonight was a different variety of business. That at the end of the evening would explain much more than anything else. Roman let the car door slam with not a grain of hesitation.
The final piece to the puzzle of the evening was Nikita Swavorski, only known as Nika. Few knew her relation to Andrei. Those who did know it did not verbalize it. Unlike Welch and the others, the cause of this meeting was unknown to Nika. It was obvious by the composition of her attire that she had no clue just where they were headed. Light blue skinny jeans hugged at her thin but lean frame, a black dress shirt cuffing at quarter sleeves, and black just below the knee boots. Still no nerves were present in her. The movements from her would be just as she wished for others to see them, composed and nonchalant. In many ways Nika was just like her father personality wise, calculating, and cold, something she had taken pride in for the longest time.
A bitter stare was plastered on her porcelain face. The beige of her skin contrasted the vibrant sapphire of her irises which had been one of the only physical features her father had gifted her. Her thick dark hair was sloppily braided and tucked under in the back, to create the effect of a bun. Strands of her hair hung around her face. A thin layer of eye liner and mascara graced her face, and a thin layer of cover up was also laid out on her skin to hide a few uneven scars which had turned up over the years. Before Nika's first heel even rested against the cement Roman was already waiting for her at the front of the car. Each of his hands folded in front of him, as Nika finally stood at her full five foot seven height only a few steps away.
The two had always gotten along well due to their lack of emotion in situations which for normal people would be required just like spare baggage. Something about that small fact sent a surge of tingles up her back. Comfortableness between them was an even ground, something even if there was nothing else they had grown to trust about the other. Once at his side, they began the same path the previous three had taken. There was the feeling of being an outsider for Nika, unknowing to the plans and events which were to transpire, something which was rare. As much as that should have made her squirm beneath the surface, she was forcing herself from even trying to put any of the clues together. This simple act had caused her to clench her teeth, bringing more attention to her already high cheekbones.
In the large storage room the only noise was the sound of her heels thudding against the hard cement. Once in the center of the warehouse opening, they stopped. Varenkov sitting in one chair behind the table, Welch was a distance away in the other, and Ivan stood beside Varenkov. All eyes were now on the boss as both Nika, and Roman nodded in gratitude to their leader. Silence as loud as the static of a gray screen television filled the air. Within an instance the screeching of Varenkov's chair sliding back broke the quiet.
"Nika, this is Welch the man you allowed to create a tab with us at your club, yes?" the booming voice had an underlying tone of accusation. Nika's eyes followed her father's figure as he stood.
"Yes," she spoke plainly. That was what he always wanted; to break them.
"You then proceeded to get information from him, when he couldn't pay his debt," he moved from his position to the opposing side of the table. Nika didn't fidget, didn't give into the writhing of fear he wished for her to feel. Instead her hands stayed folded in front of her body. There had been no question for her to answer; instead, he had spoken as if it was a truth. That was just the silent indicator which informed her not to speak. Roman moved to the opposite side of Ivan leaving Nika standing alone between the table and Welch's chair. Varenkov stood before Nika looking down at her.
"The information which was provided was then incorrect. Creating a loss of our goods, and," a paused was given as he glanced back towards Welch, "A number of our transporters to be arrested, does this sound accurate?"
Nika had heard this but had no idea of its accuracy. Pursed lips parted to speak, "Yes."
"Roman," his tone gave a command.
"Gladly," the cold voice sounded from behind Varenkov. Footsteps were heard before pleas from Welch began. 'Please, I have a family… I had no idea…' were at the back of Nika's mind as she stared back at her father with the same acidic look he offered. Simultaneously two things happened at once. Varenkov read the expression which was rage on his daughters face. He lashed out with a forceful hand across her face, and second was a gun with a silencer went off again. Although both victims of the attack were still alive, and faring, only Welch was crying out in severe pain. Nika only returned her icy gaze, which had been ripped away, to her father's face. Nika had to fight her footing to stay standing from the force of her father's attack. Another shot was fired, and the screaming intensified.
"Look into your sources before assuming they are correct. We lost money, merchandise, and men due to your fuck up. This better not happen again, and I will be watching you, understand?" the acid which would have felt justified was nowhere to be found in his voice.
"Yes," this time the words were spoken through clenched teeth. Much like her father, fighting to not attack back was not simple. One last bang sounded before sputtering, and gurgling filled the air.
"Now clean up your fucking mess," were the last words he spat before turning away from Nika. A nod was given to his two men before turning and heading towards the exit. Roman placed a set of keys on the table before leaving. None of the men offered a glance to Nika, or words. Instead, they left her with a man twice her weight, lying in a pool of blood to clean up. It wasn't until the door clunked shut did she finally yell out in rage. Each of her hands rested at her side, white with clenched fists, and her mind raced to figure out a good means of cover up.