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Ghosts (18+ violence, language, adult themes)
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Simon Toews
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 17 Mar 2017
Posts: 101
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6976.74 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Thu Dec 06, 2018 12:30 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Simon sat outside the highrise, waiting for his new client to come down and meet him. Some bigshot CEO, he'd been told. That world never really interested him, outside of the paycheck, but a gig was a gig. It had been weeks since the blow out with Tessa's parents. Corrine pulled some serious strings to get him here. Part of him considered taking the generous chunk of money Tahlia had kicked his way and live off that for a while...but two weeks without work and he was going stir crazy.

Simon wasn't a "sit around the house" kind of guy. Part of him missed life on Virgil's farm. The routine had done him a world of good when he'd needed it most. He rearranged the condo twice before Corrine got home and tore him a new one. He'd never admit it, but if we was honest, he spent most of that time looking for any information on Tessa. He saw that she had tour dates, so she must have healed up since that night. Simon couldn't get her off his mind. He felt responsible, as if he'd abandoned her. It ate at him every second he wasn't occupied with something else. The day Paige told him about the new job was a gift. The sentiment would not last.

The client exited the building. He was tall, in decent shape. Not a single salt and pepper colored hair was out of place. His impeccably tailored black suit accented with a red power tie. Simon could see him talking before he heard him, yacking away into the Bluetooth headset on his ear. On first sight, Simon could tell he didn't like this guy. Just the way he moved reeked of an excess of unearned confidence.

The client yanked open the door and slipped in without so much as a "Hello."

"Triton Corp.". He said. "123rd and Gale. Radio off."

Like he was a ****ing cab driver. Simon eyed him in the rearview with silent disdain, images playing through his head of dragging the man out of the car and beating him to a pulp, but he just reached over and turned to volume down to zero. The man went right back to talking way too loudly to the person on the other end. Simon summoned up every last bit of patience he had and put the car in drive.

For a half an hour he listened to every racist, misogynistic, homophobic and braggadocious thing this jerk off said, hating him more and more by the second. Simon was actually grateful the son of a bitch barely spared him a glance, let alone a word.

To say the rest of the ride was in silence would be inaccurate, with the client bragging to whoever was on the other end of that call about some hooker he'd ****ed. Simon couldn't help but notice the wedding band around his finger then, the bile rising again. Flashes of men he'd known in his past came in waves. Vicious, soulless men who never quite left his mind. Their faces forever etched upon his being, haunting his dreams. That he was now forced to protect one of them made him sick to his stomach. Suddenly, Tessa Bradley was a breath of fresh air in comparison.

The day went on, Simon playing chauffeur to his deplorable client. Running into convenience stores and getting his food for him, the urge to quit rising by the second. But he needed the work. Grin and bear it, he decided. And if all else fails...just lock him in the car and drive it in the river!

He was forced to escort the man to some meeting with other such bigwigs, but was not allowed in the room. He wound up sitting in the waiting room, alone with the secretary. Pretty girl with auburn hair done up in a professional, tight bun. Ice blue eyes kept flicking his way. Whether it was out of nervousness or intrigue, he couldn't tell. Simon was aware of the positives and negatives of his appearance and his effect on other people. Some women saw a tough, sexpot. Others saw a possible danger that was more likely to be escorted by cops than leave of his own volition. He just offered that mildly bemused little smile and nodded her way whenever he caught her.

The secretary forced a polite smile and went back to work, burying her head in her typing. Simon watched her out of the corner of his eye a moment.

"You like working here?" He asked her, disliking the silence.

She looked up, almost startled, her brows rising upwards. "Hm?"

"Working for these guys. You like it?"

"Oh..."She said, a bit awkwardly, glancing back toward the door. "Uh...yeah. It's got its moments."

That amused little smirk crossed his face. He could tell she was lying. "Does it?"

For a moment she looked unsure, almost offended. She went to speak, but the words didn't come. Instead, a little grin came over her features.

"I gotta tell ya," he said "If it's half as fun as my job, I'm thinkin' you and me should go halfsies on lobotomies."

A little chuckle left her, but she immediately tried to suppress it, lest they somehow magically were listening.

"Guy's a ****in' nightmare..." Simon chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Bridgette." She said, visibly relaxing a bit.

"Simon." He said, hand to his chest.

"What do you do, Simon? Personal assistant?"

"Bodyguard." He responded.

Those blue eyes of her's ran over him and she nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense."

"Yeah?" Simon said wryly. "Tell him that. ****er thinks I'm his goddamn go-fer."

Bridgette glanced back at the door a moment and leaned forward conspiratorially. "To be honest, they're all like that." She said with a roll of her eyes. "I swear, another one of them walks by and stares at my chest like they're the damn stock market, I think I'm going to scream."

Simon grinned and nodded. "What is this place? What do...uh...what do they do?"

"Oh. We oversee a lot of the trade coming into and out of the city. Or...they do, I suppose." She muttered.

"But not you?" He said.

"I fetch them coffee and bring them papers." She practically pouted.

"Not the dream job." He nodded.

"No. Not at all." she grimaced.

"Well, sister. I feel your pain." He said standing up from that Italian leather chair and started toward a cubby hole in one corner of the room, stopping and glancing her way. "Coffee?"

There was a moment of panic in Bridgette's face then. "Oh." she glanced back at the door. "I should really be getting that for you."

Simon made a face. "Come on. Old friends like us? I can do you a solid." he joked.

"No. I could get fired." She said firmly. It stopped Simon in his tracks. "I shouldn't even be talking to you like this."

Simon frowned. What a life they lead. Terrified of losing something they hated. Part of him thought he would have been better off if he did. As much as the world put forth the idea that people are all in control of their own destinies, he knew better. Men like his client, like her employer...they had real power. They had sway. Simon could take a life, end it quick, but these men could take a livelihood. Bleed people out until they had nothing. Make them wish they were dead.

The door opened and the businessmen filed out talking and laughing loudly, making sure everyone could hear how clever and hilarious they weren't. Bridgette immediately ducked down and went back to typing. The client didn't even address him upon exiting, just walked right past him. It was a nigh imperceptible glance, but he caught a look from her. Wordlessly, they said to each other "Good Luck."

"And it's sick that all these battles
Are what keeps me satisfied"
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Anna Ross

Joined: 07 Dec 2018
Posts: 1
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175.00 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Sat Dec 08, 2018 2:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The road to recovery didn't last nearly long enough for Simon's liking. Before he knew it, he was on his feet again. Every Saturday, they would be loaded up into trucks and taken away to a new fight. Simon stuck on the sidelines, watching.

Anna had withdrawn from him in the weeks that followed his discussion with Falk. He tried to engage her, ask her what happened, but she just rolled over and turned her back to him, refusing to even speak. Eventually, he took the hint and backed off.

If they time did anything for him, it gave him perspective on the other kids and the way they fought. He analyzed their habits, their strengths, formulating plans should he face them. Because plans ALWAYS survived in combat, right?

He lay on the cold, dirty ground, asleep when he could manage. But even the whispers of the others woke him. He heard the name "Anna" and it piqued his interest. Slowly, cautiously, he peered over through slit eyelids. Two of the bigger boys stood over her sleeping form. She didn't work, didn't fight anymore. The head guard issued threats that they would all be punished if she continued her refusal, but it didn't seem to phase her.

"I think she's asleep." one of them said to the other.

"Good. It'll be easy, then." Simon knew the voice. Nicholas had put him out of commission for weeks and now it seemed he wanted to do the same to Anna. The taller boy reared back ready to stomp Anna's face in. But he wasn't paying attention to what was happening behind him.

Simon caught him from the side, the full weight of his body slamming into Nicholas' waist and taking him down. The older boy caught unaware, Simon managed to climb up and straddle his torso. He brought back that still-healing fist and just started punching. Something inside of him must have dulled the pain, because he hit and hit and hit as hard as he could while his opponent sputtered blood and flailed about in a panic.
The other kid's arms wrapped around his chest, pulling Simon off of Nicholas. His bloodied nemesis began to rise, but Simon kicked out both feet, connecting with the boy's face and sending him careening back, his head cracking loudly against the concrete.

His new attacker, threw an arm across his throat, Simon struggling and clawing to get some air. But the boy just gripped harder, Simon's eyes beginning to bulge as it started to get dark. He tried to jab backwards with a few thrown elbows, but they were inconsequential. His limbs weakened and his body began to sag. God knew what they'd do to him while he was out. Were he more present of mind, he might actually be able to worry about it.

Suddenly, the grip loosened. Anna kicked out the boy's knee from one side. She grabbed him by the head as he dropped, and kneed him hard in the face, knocking him onto his back. Simon coughed and struggled to regain his breath. His eyes widened as he saw Nicholas approach from behind. He tried to shout, but the words didn't come out.

Anna struggled against the stronger kid to little avail. She shrieked like a wild animal, so he tried to clamp a hand over her mouth. The girl immediately bit into his hand, hard as she possibly could, drawing blood along with a scream. As soon as his grip loosened, she threw her head back, cracking him in the face. Anna tore free from his grasp, whipped around and grabbed a handful of hair, holding his head in-place while she punched him in the face again and again and again. His blood ran down her chin and sprayed on her with every impact of her fist.

Finally, Nicholas was able to get his arms around her waist and tackle her to the ground, making use of his weight advantage. Anna clawed as best she could at his face, but he knocked her arms aside. Before he could do anything else Simon launched himself through the air and slammed into him, bringing him down to Anna's side. Simon beat on his face as hard as he could, hitting him over and over again. He was out for payback. He was out for blood.

"What the **** is *this*?!" A booming voice rang out. Stills lumbered into the cell, shoving the other kids aside. Simon didn't stop. He was going to get as many hits in as he could before the inevitable came. He cocked back his fist to throw another punch, but Stills grabbed him from behind and dragged him off of the unconscious, bloodied Nicholas.

"Goddammit, boy, you just don't ****in' learn, do ya?" Anna was on pure adrenaline, running over and trying to grab her friend out of the big man's grasp. She clawed and punched and kicked, doing little more than annoying him.

"Oh, you want to join him, sweetheart?"

Stills hauled off and back handed her to the ground, and threw Simon into the wall. Simon took the blow and turned ready to attack. Stills pointed at him, the boy stopping in his tracks. "You calm the **** down and don't ****in' move!"

Still looked over the mess Anna and Simon had left of the two boys, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Jesus Christ. Look at this ****." He muttered, shaking his head. "Vincent! Eddie! I need a hand here."

Simon and Anna watched as the two men came in dragging the unconscious boys from the room, a little grin offered to each other. Stills stopped at the cell door and turned to the two of them pointing. "You little pricks want to fight, you do it in the ****in' ring! I see this **** again, and I'm putting you both through the ****in' wall! Clean yourselves up!"

The door slammed shut with a clang.

Anna was a mess, covered in blood and sporting a fresh bruise where she'd been backhanded by Stills, but there was a big smile on her face.

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