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- Primarily Prefer Male
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"You're only as innocent as the horns holding up your halo."
"You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
"People who use other people as stepping stones will eventually lose their balance."
"One thing about them tables... They always turn."
"Karma's just sharpening her nails and finishing her drink. She says she'll be with you shortly."
Hello there... My name is Karma. It's very nice to meet you. I'm a rather laid-back gal with a flair for the dramatic, but you'll quickly notice there is more to me than meets the eye. Of course, I'll let you find that out for yourself.
Now, down to business...
I've been role playing since I was seven or eight years old, so about ten years. I've gone through several 'phases' if you will, from characters with overly tragic backstories to crazy alternate reality plot-lines with more time invested in world - building than in actually playing in that world. Currently, I've been writing quite a bit about blind characters, and I've also been digging up some of my old role plays from a year or more ago and renewing them. A lot of the plots you'll find on this page are actually from a while ago.
I'll try to keep this short for once, and go ahead and head into the plots. Let me know if you have any questions, I'm happy to answer.
This is where I put all my plots. They're in spoilers because most of them are really long...
Four months ago, Alexander Becker was a normal teenager, with normal parents, and, most of all, a normal life. No bruises, no bullies, and, most importantly, no Allison Becker.
But then, it all changed. His aunt, who he had been living with since he was an infant, died in a car accident. He was forced to move in with his mother, Allison, who had given him up at birth. He was torn from his old school, old parents, and old life, and shoved into a new one. At first, he tried to look at the bright side. It was a fresh start! But, when he discovered his mother was a heavy alcoholic, everything went downhill.
It wasn't long before his mother began to beat him. It wasn't much longer after that before the bullies starting seeking him out, and he started getting bad grades in school. He would make sad excuses for bruises on his face, and would wear baggy, long-sleeved clothing to hide his malnutrition, scars, and bruises. He began to fall asleep in class, and was easily labeled as a freak for his sudden change in behaviors. He lives and breathes from behind the mask.
You are another student at Alex's high school, living in a neighborhood close to his, and on the same bus. Yet, you've never talked to him; not once. In fact, you know nothing about how he's being bullied, or how his mother treats him. So when a student who is rarely ever on the bus takes his seat, and refuses to let him sit next to them, and he ends up sitting next to you, will you end up being able to take off the mask he relies so much on?
But then, it all changed. His aunt, who he had been living with since he was an infant, died in a car accident. He was forced to move in with his mother, Allison, who had given him up at birth. He was torn from his old school, old parents, and old life, and shoved into a new one. At first, he tried to look at the bright side. It was a fresh start! But, when he discovered his mother was a heavy alcoholic, everything went downhill.
It wasn't long before his mother began to beat him. It wasn't much longer after that before the bullies starting seeking him out, and he started getting bad grades in school. He would make sad excuses for bruises on his face, and would wear baggy, long-sleeved clothing to hide his malnutrition, scars, and bruises. He began to fall asleep in class, and was easily labeled as a freak for his sudden change in behaviors. He lives and breathes from behind the mask.
You are another student at Alex's high school, living in a neighborhood close to his, and on the same bus. Yet, you've never talked to him; not once. In fact, you know nothing about how he's being bullied, or how his mother treats him. So when a student who is rarely ever on the bus takes his seat, and refuses to let him sit next to them, and he ends up sitting next to you, will you end up being able to take off the mask he relies so much on?
-Technical-
Name: Alexander Becker
Nicknames: Alex, Mr. Becker, etc.
Species: Human
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: American
Gender: Male
-School-
Education Level: High School
Grade Level: Sophomore (10th)
Least Favorite Teacher: Mrs. Reddicker
Favorite Teacher: None
Best Subject: English
Worst Subject: Math
Science Grade: F
English Grade: C
History Grade: F
Math Grade: F
Age: 16
-Family-
Maternal Grandmother: Debbie Becker
Maternal Grandfather: Richard Becker
Paternal Grandmother: Unknown
Paternal Grandfather: Unknown
Mother: Allison Becker
Father: Unknown
Sisters: None
Brothers: None
Aunts: Lilly Becker [Deceased]
Uncles: None
Cousins: None
-He/She Feels _____ at Home-
Safe?: No
Comfortable?: No
Optimistic?: No
Confident?: No
Expressive?: No
Secretive?: Yes
Afraid?: Yes
Uncomfortable?: Yes
Unsure?: Yes
Pessimistic?: Yes
-Family Relationships-
Bad Relationship With: Allison Becker.
Good Relationship With: Lilly Becker [Deceased].
Neutral Relationship With: Debbie Becker, Richard Becker.
-Social-
Friends: Lilly Becker [Deceased].
Enemies: Allison Becker, Jackson Carter, Emily Carter, Zach Josephs, Ethan Water, etc
-Appearance-
Alex is short, around 5'3", and currently weighs 108 Ibs. He is skinny, and often wears baggy sweatshirts and hoodies, or oversized long-sleeved shirts to cover up his small, almost malnourished size. He refused to wear anything without long sleeves, lest reveal the bruises all along his arms, and the same applies to long pants. He has golden brown hair that hangs loosely around his head in an almost playful-and-messy manner, and it used to be accompanied by a constant smile, before his smile lost it's shine and his eyes grew sad and sunken in. He's let his hair grow a bit out of hand, too, although he's careful not to let it get too bad lest be bullied more. He has bright sea foam green eyes that have recently lost their luster as a result of his abuse, and often has bruises on his face, always covered up with some sort of bandage so no one can see the true extent of it. Black eyes are common. He has a narrow chin and high-set cheekbones, and his face sometimes seems kind of hollow as a result of malnutrition.
-Personality-
Alex, in the past, was a very cheerful kid. He would laugh, tell jokes, and smile just as any normal teenager would. However, after his aunt died and he had to move in with his mom, he wasn't the same again. He's become very shy and timid, and somewhat sheepish. He's lost a lot of his sense of humor, and it's hard for him to laugh at jokes now. Genuine smiles have become a rarity now, too. How old cheerfulness is long gone, and has been replaced with a very fake individual. He tends to play along with the bullies, but if you can catch him when he thinks he's alone, you'll see the true depth of his sadness. He's full of fake smiles and insincere assurances that he's fine.
-History-
Alex was born as a mistake. His mother, Allison Becker, was drunk at a college party and got knocked up by some guy she couldn't even remember. When she found out she was pregnant, she started becoming an alcoholic, having wanted to never have kids. She found kids annoying, and most certainly didn't want one of her own. So, when Alex was born, she handed him off to her sister, and Alex's aunt, Lilly Becker, who acted as his mother for the first fifteen years of his life. However, when his aunt suddenly got caught in a car accident and died the summer before he turned sixteen, he was forced to live with his mom again, who had become a severe alcoholic in this time. He had to move schools, and not to mention into a whole other state, to live with her. At the very least, he was moving during the summer, so he wouldn't be coming into school during the middle of the year.
After moving in, Alex immediately began to notice something wrong with his mother, who he had never met before until now. She was clearly drunk, all the time. He avoided her actively, but she always seemed to find him in order to yell at him to do his new chores, which most of the time he had already done. It wasn't terribly long before the yelling got worse. It began to happen all the time, whenever she had the chance to yell, and would now include vulgar language. She began pounding away at his self-confidence, but he didn't tell anyone, too embarrassed to let anyone know that it bothered him.
The first day of school was possibly the worst first day he'd ever had. Not only had he managed to meet a trio of bullies that first day, but he also immediately made the wrong impression on them. He was now a regular victim for a set of bullies going by the names of Jackson Carter, and his sister, Emily Carter, as well as Zach Josephs and Ethan Water. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was called out by his math teacher, Mrs. Reddicker, to answer a problem he didn't have the slightest clue on. Who even actually teaches stuff on the first day of school?
Unfortunately, school only got worse. Avoiding his mom became a full-time job at home, so much so that it was difficult for him to ever find time to settle in and do his homework. As a result, his grades started to lower at an alarming rate, and he found himself falling asleep in class, as he was often woken up at night by his mother having midnight fits. He became the laughing stock of all the classes he went to, and his grades lowered to all F's, save for a C in English, possibly because his diligence in that class was a bit higher than the others, simply because English was his favorite subject. Still, he was one point away from an F.
Two months into the school year, his mother's abuse got significantly worse. She began to beat him, threatening to lock him in the bathroom with a bucket of ammonia if he ever told about the abuse. That was one bad way to go. And so, he suddenly began to wear long-sleeved shirts or loose clothing, and would come to school with bandages on his face often accompanied with a lame excuse such as 'I was tired and ran into a telephone pole' or 'I was fixing my bike and accidentally hit myself with the wrench.'
The teachers either didn't notice, or didn't care, but the students definitely noticed. It only made the bullying worse, and many students would turn their heads as the Carter siblings would beat him up and steal his lunch money after school. He often went without food at home, so school lunches were his only source of food. His clothing got baggier as he got skinnier, and sometimes his stomach would randomly and loudly growl in the middle of class.
Now, it's three months into the school year and nothing has changed for the better. If anything, it's gotten worse. If there was ever a time for a hero, now would be it.
Name: Alexander Becker
Nicknames: Alex, Mr. Becker, etc.
Species: Human
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: American
Gender: Male
-School-
Education Level: High School
Grade Level: Sophomore (10th)
Least Favorite Teacher: Mrs. Reddicker
Favorite Teacher: None
Best Subject: English
Worst Subject: Math
Science Grade: F
English Grade: C
History Grade: F
Math Grade: F
Age: 16
-Family-
Maternal Grandmother: Debbie Becker
Maternal Grandfather: Richard Becker
Paternal Grandmother: Unknown
Paternal Grandfather: Unknown
Mother: Allison Becker
Father: Unknown
Sisters: None
Brothers: None
Aunts: Lilly Becker [Deceased]
Uncles: None
Cousins: None
-He/She Feels _____ at Home-
Safe?: No
Comfortable?: No
Optimistic?: No
Confident?: No
Expressive?: No
Secretive?: Yes
Afraid?: Yes
Uncomfortable?: Yes
Unsure?: Yes
Pessimistic?: Yes
-Family Relationships-
Bad Relationship With: Allison Becker.
Good Relationship With: Lilly Becker [Deceased].
Neutral Relationship With: Debbie Becker, Richard Becker.
-Social-
Friends: Lilly Becker [Deceased].
Enemies: Allison Becker, Jackson Carter, Emily Carter, Zach Josephs, Ethan Water, etc
-Appearance-
Alex is short, around 5'3", and currently weighs 108 Ibs. He is skinny, and often wears baggy sweatshirts and hoodies, or oversized long-sleeved shirts to cover up his small, almost malnourished size. He refused to wear anything without long sleeves, lest reveal the bruises all along his arms, and the same applies to long pants. He has golden brown hair that hangs loosely around his head in an almost playful-and-messy manner, and it used to be accompanied by a constant smile, before his smile lost it's shine and his eyes grew sad and sunken in. He's let his hair grow a bit out of hand, too, although he's careful not to let it get too bad lest be bullied more. He has bright sea foam green eyes that have recently lost their luster as a result of his abuse, and often has bruises on his face, always covered up with some sort of bandage so no one can see the true extent of it. Black eyes are common. He has a narrow chin and high-set cheekbones, and his face sometimes seems kind of hollow as a result of malnutrition.
-Personality-
Alex, in the past, was a very cheerful kid. He would laugh, tell jokes, and smile just as any normal teenager would. However, after his aunt died and he had to move in with his mom, he wasn't the same again. He's become very shy and timid, and somewhat sheepish. He's lost a lot of his sense of humor, and it's hard for him to laugh at jokes now. Genuine smiles have become a rarity now, too. How old cheerfulness is long gone, and has been replaced with a very fake individual. He tends to play along with the bullies, but if you can catch him when he thinks he's alone, you'll see the true depth of his sadness. He's full of fake smiles and insincere assurances that he's fine.
-History-
Alex was born as a mistake. His mother, Allison Becker, was drunk at a college party and got knocked up by some guy she couldn't even remember. When she found out she was pregnant, she started becoming an alcoholic, having wanted to never have kids. She found kids annoying, and most certainly didn't want one of her own. So, when Alex was born, she handed him off to her sister, and Alex's aunt, Lilly Becker, who acted as his mother for the first fifteen years of his life. However, when his aunt suddenly got caught in a car accident and died the summer before he turned sixteen, he was forced to live with his mom again, who had become a severe alcoholic in this time. He had to move schools, and not to mention into a whole other state, to live with her. At the very least, he was moving during the summer, so he wouldn't be coming into school during the middle of the year.
After moving in, Alex immediately began to notice something wrong with his mother, who he had never met before until now. She was clearly drunk, all the time. He avoided her actively, but she always seemed to find him in order to yell at him to do his new chores, which most of the time he had already done. It wasn't terribly long before the yelling got worse. It began to happen all the time, whenever she had the chance to yell, and would now include vulgar language. She began pounding away at his self-confidence, but he didn't tell anyone, too embarrassed to let anyone know that it bothered him.
The first day of school was possibly the worst first day he'd ever had. Not only had he managed to meet a trio of bullies that first day, but he also immediately made the wrong impression on them. He was now a regular victim for a set of bullies going by the names of Jackson Carter, and his sister, Emily Carter, as well as Zach Josephs and Ethan Water. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was called out by his math teacher, Mrs. Reddicker, to answer a problem he didn't have the slightest clue on. Who even actually teaches stuff on the first day of school?
Unfortunately, school only got worse. Avoiding his mom became a full-time job at home, so much so that it was difficult for him to ever find time to settle in and do his homework. As a result, his grades started to lower at an alarming rate, and he found himself falling asleep in class, as he was often woken up at night by his mother having midnight fits. He became the laughing stock of all the classes he went to, and his grades lowered to all F's, save for a C in English, possibly because his diligence in that class was a bit higher than the others, simply because English was his favorite subject. Still, he was one point away from an F.
Two months into the school year, his mother's abuse got significantly worse. She began to beat him, threatening to lock him in the bathroom with a bucket of ammonia if he ever told about the abuse. That was one bad way to go. And so, he suddenly began to wear long-sleeved shirts or loose clothing, and would come to school with bandages on his face often accompanied with a lame excuse such as 'I was tired and ran into a telephone pole' or 'I was fixing my bike and accidentally hit myself with the wrench.'
The teachers either didn't notice, or didn't care, but the students definitely noticed. It only made the bullying worse, and many students would turn their heads as the Carter siblings would beat him up and steal his lunch money after school. He often went without food at home, so school lunches were his only source of food. His clothing got baggier as he got skinnier, and sometimes his stomach would randomly and loudly growl in the middle of class.
Now, it's three months into the school year and nothing has changed for the better. If anything, it's gotten worse. If there was ever a time for a hero, now would be it.
Asher Hensley is an AWOL soldier and all-around criminal with nowhere left to run. After a serious injury that brings him near death, he collapses on the porch of a house in a wealthy neighborhood. With the police hot on his trail, it doesn't look like he's going to make it out of this one alive, no matter how resourceful he's been in the past. That's where you come in.
You live alone in a wealthy neighborhood, or maybe your parents are just gone for the weekend. Whatever the situation, you certainly weren't expecting a man to suddenly collapse on your porch in the middle of the night, covered in blood and near death. As things progress, you go from saving the life of a criminal to becoming a hostage, and things aren't looking up for you. Maybe you should've just minded your own business. Of course, even as a hostage, you can't help but be curious about what made your captor the way he is now. Surely he wasn't always this way?
Maybe what you learn might make you a little more willing to stay by his side.
You live alone in a wealthy neighborhood, or maybe your parents are just gone for the weekend. Whatever the situation, you certainly weren't expecting a man to suddenly collapse on your porch in the middle of the night, covered in blood and near death. As things progress, you go from saving the life of a criminal to becoming a hostage, and things aren't looking up for you. Maybe you should've just minded your own business. Of course, even as a hostage, you can't help but be curious about what made your captor the way he is now. Surely he wasn't always this way?
Maybe what you learn might make you a little more willing to stay by his side.
Asher Hensley
"You shouldn't be holding a gun unless you're prepared to shoot."
GENERAL INFO
ALIAS: Ash
GENDER: Male
AGE: 23
OCCUPATION: Drug Dealer/AWOL Soldier
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
HOBBIES: Parkour, Wire Puzzles.
PERSONALITY
Asher is quite the serious man. When he does joke, his humor is grim, and often it's hard to tell that he's joking at all. He strongly believes that those who are not prepared to kill should not wield a gun, and thus he's always prepared to shoot whenever he picks up his gun. He's not afraid of being judged by others, and cares little what others think. Often times, he'll come across as arrogant, cynical, and downright rude, but in truth he cares more than he shows. If you can melt his hard exterior, what you'll eventually find is a troubled man with little left to go to.
APPEARANCE
Silver hair lines a sharp jawline in a long, layered cut, his eyes a light blue that can hold both overwhelming emotion and a fierce glare that could easily pierce your soul. Thin eyebrows are set low above narrowed eyes, with pale lips and fair skin. Broad shoulders and a large build is offset by his rather average height, although he can appear intimidating despite not being seven feet tall. He always wears a red piece of cloth tied around his right wrist, a memento from the past. He typically wears blue jeans with a T-shirt of some sort, and a red jacket on cooler days. He has a leather scabbard for a single dagger attached to his belt, as well, and a holster for a semi-automatic pistol.
BIOGRAPHY
Asher was born in a middle class family, making enough money to live a comfortable life. He grew up in a good schooling system, although some of the kids at the school were rather ruthless, they usually didn't bother Asher. For the first seven years of his life, he grew up well, and those were the days when he was happy.
Then, his mother passed away after a heart attack caused by stress. His mother had been the one to support the family, while his father ran a small business that didn't make much money, but that he enjoyed. After her passing, the family was devastated. Asher wasn't an only child, with an older sister named Karla and an identical twin brother named Pierce. After his mom's passing, his father was forced to work abroad to support the family, often leaving the family for months at a time to work, leaving Karla to take care of the twins and run the business while he was gone.
As one could imagine, this was very stressful on Karla, and the seven year old Asher could sense that stress. He started taking on his own responsibilities in order to alleviate weight off of Karla. The family vacations that they used to have every year stopped happening, and whenever he was asked at school what he'd done over the summer, he'd say, "I worked." The other kids began to see him as a target, and he started being bullied around the time he was eight.
Asher never let it get to him though. Pierce always came to his defense, despite Asher wanting to handle it on his own. While Pierce was concerned that Asher was taking on too much work to help Karla, Asher didn't care. He wanted to help Karla, even if it cost him his life, like it did for his mom.
One day, his father went out to work, and was supposed to be gone for three months. He never came back. He had went to work in Iraq for a bit, but had been killed in the crossfire from the ongoing war. They didn't find out until nearly a month after his death. Karla was 18 now, and Asher and Pierce were ten. Karla took over legal guardianship of them, and managed the business, which was now their only source of income. It wasn't long before they were selling furniture, books, and anything they could do without to make money. Their business went bankrupt, and they were left with nothing. Forced onto the streets, Karla was growing ill. Asher and Pierce were now 16, and they were both struggling to take weight off of Karla shoulders, knowing she was stressed as it was. Karla, however, wanted to continue working, always bearing the brunt of the weight herself.
Then, she died too. The same way their mother had, a heart attack caused by stress, as well as a genetic heart disorder that their mom had also had, and passed down to Karla. Asher and Pierce were 18, penniless, and all they had was each other.
In hopes of a better life than what was ahead of them, they both joined the army. They trained hard, becoming good soldiers, and then they were sent to the front lines.
Asher was the only one who watched Pierce die, when both of them were 20. He was shot in the abdomen, and died from blood loss. Just before his death, Pierce gave Asher a red strip of cloth that he had always worn, telling him to continue fighting, no matter what.
Asher couldn't do it. He went AWOL, leaving the front lines and making his escape to the underworld. The military hunted him down, with little trace of him. His family was mostly deceased, and those extended family that were alive hadn't seen him since he was an infant, with little information to tell the military. He moved from town to town constantly, on the run from a future he never wanted and a past he wants to forget. He started getting into drugs and alcohol, and soon enough he found himself selling drugs for a living. If he was ever caught by the police, he'd be charged with desertion, drug trafficking, various cases of murder, gun ownership without a permit, and various other offenses. He lives always looking behind his shoulder, never able to catch a break.
It's been three years since Asher went AWOL, and three years since Pierce died. Three years since he went on the run. Three years of sleepless nights.
Three years.
FACE CLAIM
"You shouldn't be holding a gun unless you're prepared to shoot."
GENERAL INFO
ALIAS: Ash
GENDER: Male
AGE: 23
OCCUPATION: Drug Dealer/AWOL Soldier
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
HOBBIES: Parkour, Wire Puzzles.
PERSONALITY
Asher is quite the serious man. When he does joke, his humor is grim, and often it's hard to tell that he's joking at all. He strongly believes that those who are not prepared to kill should not wield a gun, and thus he's always prepared to shoot whenever he picks up his gun. He's not afraid of being judged by others, and cares little what others think. Often times, he'll come across as arrogant, cynical, and downright rude, but in truth he cares more than he shows. If you can melt his hard exterior, what you'll eventually find is a troubled man with little left to go to.
APPEARANCE
Silver hair lines a sharp jawline in a long, layered cut, his eyes a light blue that can hold both overwhelming emotion and a fierce glare that could easily pierce your soul. Thin eyebrows are set low above narrowed eyes, with pale lips and fair skin. Broad shoulders and a large build is offset by his rather average height, although he can appear intimidating despite not being seven feet tall. He always wears a red piece of cloth tied around his right wrist, a memento from the past. He typically wears blue jeans with a T-shirt of some sort, and a red jacket on cooler days. He has a leather scabbard for a single dagger attached to his belt, as well, and a holster for a semi-automatic pistol.
BIOGRAPHY
Asher was born in a middle class family, making enough money to live a comfortable life. He grew up in a good schooling system, although some of the kids at the school were rather ruthless, they usually didn't bother Asher. For the first seven years of his life, he grew up well, and those were the days when he was happy.
Then, his mother passed away after a heart attack caused by stress. His mother had been the one to support the family, while his father ran a small business that didn't make much money, but that he enjoyed. After her passing, the family was devastated. Asher wasn't an only child, with an older sister named Karla and an identical twin brother named Pierce. After his mom's passing, his father was forced to work abroad to support the family, often leaving the family for months at a time to work, leaving Karla to take care of the twins and run the business while he was gone.
As one could imagine, this was very stressful on Karla, and the seven year old Asher could sense that stress. He started taking on his own responsibilities in order to alleviate weight off of Karla. The family vacations that they used to have every year stopped happening, and whenever he was asked at school what he'd done over the summer, he'd say, "I worked." The other kids began to see him as a target, and he started being bullied around the time he was eight.
Asher never let it get to him though. Pierce always came to his defense, despite Asher wanting to handle it on his own. While Pierce was concerned that Asher was taking on too much work to help Karla, Asher didn't care. He wanted to help Karla, even if it cost him his life, like it did for his mom.
One day, his father went out to work, and was supposed to be gone for three months. He never came back. He had went to work in Iraq for a bit, but had been killed in the crossfire from the ongoing war. They didn't find out until nearly a month after his death. Karla was 18 now, and Asher and Pierce were ten. Karla took over legal guardianship of them, and managed the business, which was now their only source of income. It wasn't long before they were selling furniture, books, and anything they could do without to make money. Their business went bankrupt, and they were left with nothing. Forced onto the streets, Karla was growing ill. Asher and Pierce were now 16, and they were both struggling to take weight off of Karla shoulders, knowing she was stressed as it was. Karla, however, wanted to continue working, always bearing the brunt of the weight herself.
Then, she died too. The same way their mother had, a heart attack caused by stress, as well as a genetic heart disorder that their mom had also had, and passed down to Karla. Asher and Pierce were 18, penniless, and all they had was each other.
In hopes of a better life than what was ahead of them, they both joined the army. They trained hard, becoming good soldiers, and then they were sent to the front lines.
Asher was the only one who watched Pierce die, when both of them were 20. He was shot in the abdomen, and died from blood loss. Just before his death, Pierce gave Asher a red strip of cloth that he had always worn, telling him to continue fighting, no matter what.
Asher couldn't do it. He went AWOL, leaving the front lines and making his escape to the underworld. The military hunted him down, with little trace of him. His family was mostly deceased, and those extended family that were alive hadn't seen him since he was an infant, with little information to tell the military. He moved from town to town constantly, on the run from a future he never wanted and a past he wants to forget. He started getting into drugs and alcohol, and soon enough he found himself selling drugs for a living. If he was ever caught by the police, he'd be charged with desertion, drug trafficking, various cases of murder, gun ownership without a permit, and various other offenses. He lives always looking behind his shoulder, never able to catch a break.
It's been three years since Asher went AWOL, and three years since Pierce died. Three years since he went on the run. Three years of sleepless nights.
Three years.
FACE CLAIM
"Damn it, Pierce, don't leave me! Not you too! First mom, then dad and Karla...."
The desperate words the young silver-haired man spoke to his twin was accompanied by the distant sounds of rapid gunfire and explosions. The twin brother, lying on the ground over a puddle of blood, was pale, the hand that the panicking male gripped growing colder by the second. With one hand, Asher gripped Pierce's hand tightly, and with the other, he pressed a piece of his own sleeve down on the gunshot wound in a useless attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Asher..." Pierce mumbled weakly, his mind beginning to slip away.
"Shush, save your strength! You're going to make it through this!" Asher whispered back, but even as he said it he knew there was little hope.
The dying twin untied a small red ribbon tied around his wrist, handing it to Asher. Asher's eyes widened at the gesture, knowing exactly what it meant. "But....Pierce, Karla gave that to you!" He exclaimed, but his hand reached out to take it, anyway. Their older sister, Karla, had given Pierce the makeshift bracelet on her deathbed. To them, it symbolized hope, and the strong bond the three of them shared.
"Asher, you have to fight through this. Don't.." For a moment, Pierce's words were interrupted as he sputtered, blood dripping from his lips. Asher had given up stopping the bleeding, instead focusing intensely on his brother's dying words. "Don't lose hope. Don't stop fighting. I know you have it in you. You can do it..."
"No, Pierce, I can't do it without you--I can't....Stay with me!" Asher exclaimed, but Pierce's hand had already gone limp.
He was dead.
---------
"Police, open up! You have until the count of 3!" A loud, violent knocking on the apartment door awoke Asher from his fitful slumber on the stained couch, sending him flying into action. He shot up, grabbing the gun and the dagger off the coffee table in front of him and sticking them in their appropriate scabbard and holster on his belt, thankful he had thought well enough to sleep in his clothes.
"1!" The policeman at the door shouted, a sure sign that they weren't aware of all the crimes Asher had committed. If they had been, they wouldn't have bothered with the pleasantries of knocking. Asher ran to the nearby window, again glad he had been prepared enough to get an apartment as low as the second floor.
"2!" Asher fiddled with the window lock, cursing himself. It was jammed. In desperation, he grabbed a nearby can opener from the kitchen counter and slammed it against the lock, popping it open instantly.
"3!" Asher opened the window just as he heard the door being knocked down by a sturdy kick and heavy footsteps flooding into the living room.
"He's fleeing through the window!" One of the police officers shouted, raising his gun to shoot Asher just as he put one leg out of the window.
He pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing his backside and tearing through flesh. He lost his balance, falling out the window and sent tumbling down the two stories, his fall cushioned only by a leafy shrub, which did more damage than good. The sharp twigs poked at his injured side, and he found it long moments before he was even aware of his surroundings again.
"Did I tell you to open fire?!" A voice from upstairs scolded as Asher forced himself to his feet, stumbling over his own leg as his vision went blurry, fading in and out of focus. The adrenaline kept him moving, kept him on his feet. While the officers were wasting time pointing fingers, Asher stumbled out of sight, hiding behind the wall of another building as blood soaked through his shirt. The bullet had ripped clean through him, from back to front. As he took a few seconds to catch his bearings in the temporary safety of the alleyway, his only guide the rising moon and the lights of nearby buildings, he thought it almost ironic that tonight's nightmare would be that of his brother dying, in the same way he figured he would now. He resisted the urge to laugh at the thought, now that he was already growing delusional.
He made a desperate attempt to make a run for it, heading out of the alleyway and down the primarily empty streets of the shady neighborhood. He stumbled his way along the sidewalk, dripping a trail of blood. He traveled blindly, and before he realized it, he'd found the entrance of a wealthy neighborhood, stark in contrast to the brick apartments and filthy stores he'd just passed. He was beginning to run out of strength, and it was a miracle he'd made it this far.
He started walking in as straight a line as he could manage down the street, although inevitably he swerved to the right, unable to see straight. He stumbled into the wall of a larger home, the impact creating a rather loud THUMP!
He managed to stumble his way onto the spacious porch, blood dripping behind him and undoubtedly leading the police right to his location. Not that it mattered much. He'd be dead soon, anyway.
He finally gave in, unable to stand any longer. He collapsed, another THUMP! likely alerting anyone inside of his presence. Blood immediately pooled below him on the concrete, and he closed his eyes, beginning to accept his fate. He wasn't even sure why he'd tried so hard to get away if he knew he was going to die. Maybe it was his pride. If he was going to die, he wanted to die free.
His mind began to slip away, and he felt the warmth leaving his body. It'd be over soon.
Soon, indeed.
The desperate words the young silver-haired man spoke to his twin was accompanied by the distant sounds of rapid gunfire and explosions. The twin brother, lying on the ground over a puddle of blood, was pale, the hand that the panicking male gripped growing colder by the second. With one hand, Asher gripped Pierce's hand tightly, and with the other, he pressed a piece of his own sleeve down on the gunshot wound in a useless attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Asher..." Pierce mumbled weakly, his mind beginning to slip away.
"Shush, save your strength! You're going to make it through this!" Asher whispered back, but even as he said it he knew there was little hope.
The dying twin untied a small red ribbon tied around his wrist, handing it to Asher. Asher's eyes widened at the gesture, knowing exactly what it meant. "But....Pierce, Karla gave that to you!" He exclaimed, but his hand reached out to take it, anyway. Their older sister, Karla, had given Pierce the makeshift bracelet on her deathbed. To them, it symbolized hope, and the strong bond the three of them shared.
"Asher, you have to fight through this. Don't.." For a moment, Pierce's words were interrupted as he sputtered, blood dripping from his lips. Asher had given up stopping the bleeding, instead focusing intensely on his brother's dying words. "Don't lose hope. Don't stop fighting. I know you have it in you. You can do it..."
"No, Pierce, I can't do it without you--I can't....Stay with me!" Asher exclaimed, but Pierce's hand had already gone limp.
He was dead.
---------
"Police, open up! You have until the count of 3!" A loud, violent knocking on the apartment door awoke Asher from his fitful slumber on the stained couch, sending him flying into action. He shot up, grabbing the gun and the dagger off the coffee table in front of him and sticking them in their appropriate scabbard and holster on his belt, thankful he had thought well enough to sleep in his clothes.
"1!" The policeman at the door shouted, a sure sign that they weren't aware of all the crimes Asher had committed. If they had been, they wouldn't have bothered with the pleasantries of knocking. Asher ran to the nearby window, again glad he had been prepared enough to get an apartment as low as the second floor.
"2!" Asher fiddled with the window lock, cursing himself. It was jammed. In desperation, he grabbed a nearby can opener from the kitchen counter and slammed it against the lock, popping it open instantly.
"3!" Asher opened the window just as he heard the door being knocked down by a sturdy kick and heavy footsteps flooding into the living room.
"He's fleeing through the window!" One of the police officers shouted, raising his gun to shoot Asher just as he put one leg out of the window.
He pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing his backside and tearing through flesh. He lost his balance, falling out the window and sent tumbling down the two stories, his fall cushioned only by a leafy shrub, which did more damage than good. The sharp twigs poked at his injured side, and he found it long moments before he was even aware of his surroundings again.
"Did I tell you to open fire?!" A voice from upstairs scolded as Asher forced himself to his feet, stumbling over his own leg as his vision went blurry, fading in and out of focus. The adrenaline kept him moving, kept him on his feet. While the officers were wasting time pointing fingers, Asher stumbled out of sight, hiding behind the wall of another building as blood soaked through his shirt. The bullet had ripped clean through him, from back to front. As he took a few seconds to catch his bearings in the temporary safety of the alleyway, his only guide the rising moon and the lights of nearby buildings, he thought it almost ironic that tonight's nightmare would be that of his brother dying, in the same way he figured he would now. He resisted the urge to laugh at the thought, now that he was already growing delusional.
He made a desperate attempt to make a run for it, heading out of the alleyway and down the primarily empty streets of the shady neighborhood. He stumbled his way along the sidewalk, dripping a trail of blood. He traveled blindly, and before he realized it, he'd found the entrance of a wealthy neighborhood, stark in contrast to the brick apartments and filthy stores he'd just passed. He was beginning to run out of strength, and it was a miracle he'd made it this far.
He started walking in as straight a line as he could manage down the street, although inevitably he swerved to the right, unable to see straight. He stumbled into the wall of a larger home, the impact creating a rather loud THUMP!
He managed to stumble his way onto the spacious porch, blood dripping behind him and undoubtedly leading the police right to his location. Not that it mattered much. He'd be dead soon, anyway.
He finally gave in, unable to stand any longer. He collapsed, another THUMP! likely alerting anyone inside of his presence. Blood immediately pooled below him on the concrete, and he closed his eyes, beginning to accept his fate. He wasn't even sure why he'd tried so hard to get away if he knew he was going to die. Maybe it was his pride. If he was going to die, he wanted to die free.
His mind began to slip away, and he felt the warmth leaving his body. It'd be over soon.
Soon, indeed.
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