Too Young to Die [akela x wildpelt]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Akela, Jan 7, 2014.

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  1. For most young women being noticed, being the center of attention was key at the young age of fifteen. This could be achieved by wearing the right kind of clothing or hanging with the right kind of people. By playing sports or sometimes just by dating the popular boy at school.

    Taryn Reed, however, viewed being noticed on the busy streets of New York as nothing but negative. Being noticed meant getting caught, and getting caught meant not having any money for food…or worse, having the police send her back under government run foster care.

    The scrawny, underweight girl walked down the crowded sidewalk, dirty blonde hair matted and in desperate need of a wash. It was short, cut unevenly just above her shoulders. Whoever had done it clearly wasn’t a professional. Homeless, parentless, and jobless she wore a flowing skirt that was a little too big on her and a dirty tanktop with an unzipped jacket with sleeves that would go past her hands if she hadn’t rolled them up past her elbows to keep her hands free.

    Without her hands, pick-pocketing would be impossible…and right now that was her exact objective. Those bright blue eyes searched every person she walked by, waiting for the perfect target. Someone who kept money in their pocket, or someone distracted because they were on their phone. Most people were self-centered, so focused on their own lives and where they were headed that they wouldn’t give the fifteen year old one glance, much less a second one after she’d stolen from them.

    There he was. Her target. Her small frame slipped right into stride beside a young male covered in tattoos. He was actually texting while walking, causing himself to bump into shoulder after shoulder. An extra touch at the bum would go unnoticed for sure. With a slight smirk Taryn raised a hand to snatch the wallet out of his back pocket, successfully putting it into her jacket. Within seconds she was skillfully slipping through the mass of mindless New Yorkers while barely touching them until she reached a side alley. With a cool, calm exterior she walked down the darkened, dirty way and only stopped when she had a seat between a trash can and a cardboard box that had that rained on look. Her temporary home was a few blocks away, but she was too excited to wait. A sandwich from the shop down the street was calling her name! It wasn’t only food, but it was a reason to get out of the cold that was starting to consume her.
  2. Most boys at seventeen worried about many things. Girls were usually forthright on their minds. Sometimes money was finally starting to make an appearance in their normal lives. Grades, if they stuck in school, were very influential at that point, and college was nigh. What normally didn't matter was whether or not this shot would earn you the money you needed to buy the food you needed that night. Killing was normally the last thing.

    So was the case with assassin Ruke Adams, or Ruke, since his last name was a guess at best. He was small by his size and had long black hair that fell in waves over his shoulders at the moment. He wasn't thin, nor was he fat. He also currently had a large sniper rifle on his shoulder, peering down into it with the focus of a cat. His body rested against a small balcony, which made him appear small and weak in the early morning light.

    The twin crosshairs lined up on his head with perfection. The man, Luke Grogan, was simply laying there, not paying attention to anything other than himself, like a typical man. Now if he had looked up about 45 degrees, turned his head sideways and focused, he may, just may, have seen the rifle on his head. But once again, he didn't care enough to do anything other than sit there. Ruke gave an inward smile: this job would be done faster than expected.

    Ruke placed his finger on the trigger, knowing everything was coming down to this shot. IF he waited too long, the man would move and his shot would be lost. If he fired too early, the man could give a cry before he died, and that would be the end of him. There was almost a moment, just a split second, that was his chance. That one second was when he turned his head away, which he knew was soon. The very second he knew his head turned, he would have to take him out with his signature mark: a bullet that entered the right temple. He smiled involuntarily at the thought of the money he would soon get.

    Right after his smile, he recoiled inwardly. Ruke didn't feel like a killer, quite the opposite. Killing was disgusting for him. He hated the idea of taking a life, for he didn't know what he was ending. Sometimes he needed to let go of his thoughts and feelings, but it was difficult with the gun in hand. His hand shook on the trigger for a brief instant before his growing stomach steeled him. IF he didn't shot this man, he'd be hungry for the next few days. While he would go through that it need be, he didn't want to.

    With his gun and nerves steeled, Ruke re-positioned his gun on his shoulder, fitting it into the little pocket of his shoulder. His eyes fully pressed onto the scope, making sure this shot would be perfect. He used the trick of giving one, two then three breaths, ending at the intake on the third. Without another thought, he smoothly gripped the gun tighter and fired.

    After the expected recoil and small shot of pain, he looked back down into the scope and frowned. HE had hit him just above the temple and, although it was a hit, he didn't like missing. This was what happened when he let his nerves assault him. But still, he raised a camera to the scope and took a picture of it, as was required for his money. He knew that the employer he worked for would be surprised of his miss, but it wasn't the end of the world. Most likely he would get a blank stare, then the money would be placed into his hand. All it took was a small pull and a firm shoulder.

    As Ruke turned to look for a break in the homogenous mass, he saw something out of the norm. A small, scrawny girl was looking at people, more attentive than usual. Intrigued, he detached the scope from the gun and used it to zoom in on her. When he did, it made sense when he saw her pick-pocket a man. That he didn't notice was even more impressive to him.

    With an inward smile, Ruke lowered himself down to the alleyway floor, then he called 9-1-1, calling about the dead body under the name of Adian Nash. When they arrived, they'd find the body, and no Adian Nash or Ruke (Adams) to question, and not even the mad will question the dead.

    Ruke used his trained eye to spot her destination and followed her. He smiled as he picked out a store down the road, most likely for her to get food. He silently followed her, humming a tune to remain inconspicuous.
  3. Fifteen dollars. That was all Taryn found within the ratty old wallet that was covered in duct tape. Actually, it looked like it was supposed to have duct tape all over it. Was that a new style or something? The girl rolled her eyes, pocketing the cash and looking through the rest of cards. There was a picture of a baby, one she smiled at, and plenty of rewards cards, a debit, and credit card. While she was sure to strike more money with those kinds of things, she was also much more likely to get caught. Taryn was a risk taker, but using those would be just plain stupid.

    With a small yawn she tossed the wallet into the garbage, covering it up with a few items already in the can. She may steal, but the last thing she wanted was someone else actually stealing the guy’s identity. With a smile still present from the money her thin fingers were wrapped around within her pocket Taryn walked down the street and through the glass door of the sub shop, the little bell above her ringing. The girl cringed, hating attention drawn to herself. Of course this was New York, however, and nobody even looked her way when the noise went off.

    Oh, this was going to be good. Ignoring the dirty looks she got from those in nice, professional suits in line before she Taryn ordered the biggest sandwich she could with pretty much everything on it. Except peppers. She hated peppers. As the sandwich artist put every ingredient on her eyes grew bigger, a hand going to her stomach. Taryn had missed dinner last night, making this meal even more special.

    Once she had tray in one hand, an orange soda in the other, and had paid she took a seat in the corner of the small shop, her back to the wall so she could people watch. Taryn had never been fond of having her back turned toward a door. ‘Eat slow…’ she reminded herself mentally, remembering the last time she inhaled her food. A stomach ache, and on worse occasions puking, was sure to come if she didn’t take her time.
  4. Ruke slipped into the shop, looking inconspicuous. One would never guess he had just assassinated someone in the back alleyway, nor could they have heard, for they were all too self-centered to care. If they had wanted to,they would've heard him shoot him, but, as it was, they didn't. The sniper was carefully tucked away in the last place someone would look: in the back of his car near where he had killed the man. While they said they searched everywhere, he new that they would never look in the cars nearby, not even the paranoid ones. And, if they did find it, he had no way of tracing it back, for he had been wearing gloves stamped with Aidin Nash's fingerprints. One did not normally think killing was such a delicate and intricate business.

    Ruke had seen her and marveled that she had not been caught. She had fast and nimble fingers; it was a marvel she didn't shoot a gun. She had hyper focus and she hadn't been able to focus on anything else, but yet was aware of her surroundings, if that didn't makes sense. Not only was she small, lithe, and talented, but she may have been the answer to all his problems. Ruke needed someone like her to help him on his own missions; and she was sitting there right for him.

    Ruke looked normal, more so than anyone else. He wore a simple black t-shirt and long jeans, and he had simple sneakers on. He looked like a normal person; no one would ever guess he was an assassin. Yes, that thought came to mind a lot, but it was necessary for his survival. His eye traveled down to her, seeing her sitting there, thinking about her. He saw that she was only about two years behind him, so she would be easier to train. She would be great to use, and he knew she would be a great partner. He ordered a sandwhich for himself and sat by her, "Do you mind if I sit here?"
  5. As soon as Ruke sat down Taryn actually gasped, scooting an inch away from him. “Well if I minded it wouldn’t matter since you sat before I answered,” she answered in a rough tone, eyes narrowed as she looked him over top to bottom. His hair was long, something unusual, but who was she to judge?

    Why she really looked him over for was to try and figure out why he would sit down beside her. She wasn’t dressed like the few women she knew on the streets, the hookers, so that had to be out. Right? Surely it was. And she didn’t look like someone he might go to school with. In fact, she probably looked absolutely horrible. Besides, he was actually…well, he was kind of cute. Hey, she was a girl and had eyes, it wasn’t wrong to notice. But it gave him even more reason to not want to sit by her. Taryn looked like trash.

    “Look I know you’re not exactly here to talk about the weather or how nice the food is here. What do you want? Cause I have a feeling whatever it is, I’m very ready for you to go away. Now.”
  6. Ruke almost laughed at her tone. She looked, acted and almost smelled like trash. She looked very pretty, but she was also covered in grime. In a place like this, it made her stand out against these people. She didn't look like one of the few prostitutes, so he was clean with that. And he knew she wasn't a criminal for the thrill; she stole to survive. That made her tough, which was what he needed.

    Ruke leaned back in the chair, "well, you're one to talk. I'm just trying to make friendly conversation and here you are spitting in my face. All I was being was friendly, but I see now people aren't ones to trust." Thinking, he gave a soft smile.

    "You know, the man two people down from the guy you pick-pocketed was much richer." He slid it onto the table, "you're talking credit cards, cash, the whole deal. I want you to have it, you need it more than I do. All I ask is you here me out as to an offer." When he finished, his smile was larger.
  7. Taryn, again, took on a look of surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked it over, a hand going out to the wallet. “You saw me?” she gasped, her stomach twisting in knots. Somehow she was no longer hungry. Her breathing stopped as she opened the it up, words failing her. “That’s a lot of cash,” she whispered, dropping it back to the table and looking at Ruke. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” she finally asked, the worry clear in her eyes despite the anger in her voice.

    “Some payment, stealing from somebody else so you can get a favor. I knew this wasn’t just friendly conversation, don’t act like I don’t know people,” Taryn continued, her hands going to her lap. “And out of curiosity, what is it you want from me? Because again, I have a feeling I can’t help you. And I swear if you lay a hand on me I’ll put a knife in your gut. Or a little lower, if you prefer,” she warned, her eyes flickering toward the door. Was he going to hurt her if she refused whatever it was?
  8. Ruke smiled at her, his face beaming. Oh yes, she was going to work out just fine with him. He slid to her the wallet and then he leaned forward, elbows on the table. He smiled at her, thinking of the benefits both of them would soon reap from their partnership. She looked like he could get a lot out of her, and he loved that feeling. He almost couldn't believe his luck finding her, "Oh no, I'm not trying to blackmail you, this is just a conversation...well, maybe more a business deal that you can help me with." Ruke placed a small knife on the table.

    Ruke's eyes traveled up and down her body, analyzing while he did speak, making key observations that he would need for later. This was one thing he learned to do to the person he killed, mainly because of his own consciousness. He chuckled at her defiance, "Well girl, I wish to make a deal with you. I saw you pick-pocket him; you're quite fast and you have amazing reflexes. Put you behind a gun or a sword, you'd go four times as far, and get paid regularly. You wouldn't have to worry about the next meal, for you would get the money when you needed it. This is my offer: I want a partnership with you, a fifty-fifty split of all payment. You could live with me, and I'd train you."

    Ruke was laying this all out early for two reasons. One, there were people around him. Two...two he did not know. All he wanted was for her to partner with him, make him better. He wanted to train her, she needed the training. Even if she said no, he still wanted to give her the money. Not all assassins bloodlust.
  9. As soon as Ruke placed the small weapon on the table and again began eyeing her Taryn felt tears sting her eyes. Then he went on to explain…but it didn’t help her anxiety in the least. The boy, or man in her eyes, anyone older than her seemed like an adult, was talking about actually using a weapon. Taryn may talk big, but she’d only used her knife a few times and always in self-defense.

    “And what exactly do you want me to do with a gun? What…would I be aiming at?” Taryn whispered, her hands fidgeting in her lap like they always did when she was nervous. Surely the person in front of her wasn’t speaking of killing people. She was only fifteen, how could he think she were capable of such a thing?
  10. Ruke looked at her with a soft gaze, seeing the conflict in her eyes. He had taken for her, at least, at first, that she had killed before. Ruke came to the somber conculsion she didn't kill, only stole. It was different for him, raised in the life of killing. In fact, he had accidentally killed his father during a session of abuse. That act was what pushed him to start 13. She was 15, surely she must be able to kill. Ruke sighed and flipped the knife over, revealing a bit of blood crusted on the gleaming blade.

    "I'm sorry if I'm coming on as direct," Ruke explained, "But I just want to talk. As for what you are aiming at...that could be many things. Weapons, guns, " People, "Other things. I do not expect you to kill, "Yet,"only aide in a mission. This place is too crowded to discuss this. Finish that sandwich and I'll take you into my car, where we can discuss this further. As for why you should trust me," He gave a small smile, "If I did want you dead, I would've used that little sniper rifle hidden in Apartment 4C." With that, Ruke arose and walked outside, waiting and looking casual against the glass.

    Ruke understood her, unlike what most people thought. Killing wasn't something he had for a hobby; he took what he had to so survive. He hoped she wouldn't reject him, or he may just have to kill her for actually having heard him reveal he was a professional assassin.
  11. So much for taking time with her sandwich. Taryn stared after the young man as he left, her eyes wide with wonder. Money for aiding a mission…who was this guy? He was much too secretive for her liking, but it wasn’t like she didn’t understand. Everyone had things they kept hidden, but he…this boy was letting her in on his. Acting like he need her help.

    Two minutes later Taryn was slipping out of her seat and tossing her wrapper in the garbage, disposable cup of coke in hand and money in her jacket pocket. Her stomach was aching from eating so much so fast, but nobody could have eaten slowly with someone right outside waiting for them. Especially when he’d left her so curious. Jerk, he’d probably done that on purpose. With a push on the glass door and a few last steps she was at his side, looking up at him expectantly. “Let’s go.”

    Taryn knew about ‘stranger danger’. She shouldn’t be jumping into the car of some boy, especially one that was talking about guns and killing. Yet she just couldn’t resist. As strong as she acted and as much charity as she refused, Taryn needed a change. She couldn’t live the rest of her life stealing small change and trying to make it through the cold New York nights alone. The temperature was dropping lower every night, and by the looks of the front page in last week’s paper not everyone on the streets was expected to survive. This happened every winter, of course, but someone of her size didn’t exactly have great odds, especially since she wasn’t willing to go to a home that cared for the poor.
  12. "Ah, you came," He smirked and looked at her softly, "Sorry if I came on too direct out there, but it sometimes is the best approach for people like you," He laughed a small bit, "Not to sound strange thought, I didn't mean to sound a little weird right here." He leaned back, "Gosh I'll screw all this up before I even begin." He looked at her softly and sighed again, "You're a sweet girl, and I really want you to know I want this because of your skills and talent. I've done my work for years, and I'm not as good as you."

    "Yes...I am an assassin." Ruke admitted, "I know that it seems weird, but I am," He sighed deeply, "I'm not a fan of my work, but I also want to have an alternative. Similar to having two jobs, you understand so far? I want to have a job where I don't have to kill all the time, and you're perfect for that. I want to, at the very least, start up a string of small crimes. As for what you'd be doing, I want a partnership."
  13. Taryn put her hands in her pockets, a finger finding a hole in the one that was empty. It had gotten bigger lately because of she was unable to stop fidgeting with it. “People like me? Don’t try and generalize me, it’s not nice. And you are being really weird,” she muttered shyly, finally breaking eye contact with him to glance at her feet. “Kinda freakin’ me out. And you saw me steal one thing, I’m not better at you than anything.”

    His compliment must have struck a chord with her, however, because she finally looked up with a grin. “But thanks. I guess I could listen to what it is you’re wanting to do and how I can help. If there’s a warm bed in it for me,” she said. “What’s your name, anyway? I don’t remember you saying it in that ever so polite introduction.”
  14. "Ah," Ruke sighed, "see, just as I said, forgetting things. My name is Ruke. It used to be something else, but I changed it. For what reason is a story I don't like telling," for a brief moment, he looked weak. He moaned and let out a tear. Then regained himself and he looked her in her eyes, "Sorry you had to see that."

    "As for what I want, it is all simple. I want to train you up a bit, provide you a home, and help you. In return I want to use you to help preform B & E's, some theft, and pick-pocketing."
  15. Taryn swallowed hard and rubbed the heels of her feet together awkwardly, not used to having to console people or help anyone feel better. Especially about something she knew nothing about. Why Ruke would cry was beyond her…he seemed to have it pretty good. Money, a car, and a job he must at least somewhat like if he continued. And all at such a young age!

    “ It’s all right. Everybody has to cry sometimes,” she muttered simply, as if the world were simple, in black and white. “I don’t see any reason in hiding how you feel. Ever.” Such innocent words. “So should I change my name too? Am I supposed to do that when I meet strange people,” Taryn grinned, rocking on the arch of her feet, back and forth as they spoke. “Fine, train however you like and I’ll help you out. Sounds like a win for me no matter what.”
  16. Ruke rolled his eyes at her request to change her name, "I used to be Duke...but I thought it was overdone and changed the d to a r. If you want to, knock yourself out. I think it is wise, but that is your call." Giving another chuckle, he leaned back. It was then he noticed how close of age they were, but he ignored that. If anything, it made her easier to train. Normally he didn't like associating with people his age, but that was personal opinion.

    "I will share my house with you," he smiled, "and my gear. I live in the small mansion on the west side. Why I live there, I liked the look," he smiled and patted her shoulder, "you ready?"
  17. -“I don’t know. I like my name,” the girl muttered, biting her lip with a glance to the side, as if making a big decision. “It’s Taryn. Taryn Annabell, if I remember right. It’s a long middle name, but isn’t my first name different?” she asked, speaking up a bit now that they had gone through introductions. He didn’t seem scary, not really. “Do you like having a unique name? I do.”

    Then he spoke of where he lived. “A mansion?” Taryn cried out, eyes wide with an open mouth. “Of course I’m ready to go! Forgive me if it’s hard to believe, but you’re- what, how old are you? Do you live with your parents and siblings then?”
  18. When Ruke heard the words 'family' and 'siblings', he couldn't help it. He fell against the steering wheel and tried not to cry, "They're...dead...." Ruke covered his face with his hands as the memory resurfaced again. He tried for years to take away that one memory, but it didn't work. He felt it all over again, all come flooding back. The blood, the sounds, the smells, the pain and the despair of it all converged on him and started to tear open his sanity again. He leaned heavily on the wheel, a few tears dripping out his eyes, "I'm 17," He chocked out before he sobbed.

    He knew he shouldn't show weakness, but she didn't care he thought. He sobbed hard as he remembered that one night, the night that he became a killer. That he became something impure. That everything he cared for was destroyed by his own hand. And he wanted to scream.
  19. "Oh!" Taryn wasn't used to this. Nobody had ever shown emotions like this to her or been so genuine. There would be the occasional woman passing by on the street that teared up at the sight of her, but that was different and made her angry.

    "I'm so sorry, Ruke! I- I don't think I've ever made anyone cry before," Taryn said frantically, reaching out to put a hand on his back. "Please stop crying, it'll be all right! You know my parents didn't want me, so I've been alone for a veru long time.maybe we both won't be so alone for at least a little bit, okay?" she tried to encourage, running her fingers up and down his back.
  20. Ruke craved being held, to be cuddled, just for once in his life told he was worth something. His father had abused him senseless, so where sometimes he had to be left on a bloody bed with cream on him to heal. His childhood wasn't being left; he wanted to leave them. But the way he left them was a violent one, and he was not anxious to repeat that...

    Years of being alone asserted themselves and he shot up, still teary but a little annoyed, "Hands off me!" He hissed and snarled at her, pushing her hand away. No, he had to stay strong. Weakness was a poison that an assassin could not afford. He couldn't be, he just couldn't be. If he was weak now, he would be later. Giving in once almost guaranteed doing it again. Although he craved the contact, craved the care, he simply couldn't let himself...or at least, not yet. Not with her, anyway. She wasn't goign to be of help to him. Most likely she'd attack him once she heard.
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