SethSunshine
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2007
- Posts
- 304
[Looking for someone to play Sapphire, and then a number of other people to take up any rolls that would suit the following story, it's open so be imaginative, form any relationships between the characters you wish. Just be creative =] ]
Rouge stood, physically shaking as he looked down; the gun slipped from his hands and a loud metallic sound echoed down the alleyway as the frame of the small pistol bounced off the ground to land just a metre to his right. His eyes surveyed what he had just done but he could hardly believe it, there infront of him lay a corpse. It hadn't been a corpse a mere 30 seconds ago but with the simplest gesture as the squeezing of a trigger - the man's heartbeat had been stopped, his voice silenced and his breaths cut short; and Rouge had done it all. His eyes moved once again, coming into focus through afew tears to rest upon his hands - splattered lightly with blood. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck was all Rouge could think, and all he could see was the solid red of the blood.
He'd only bought the gun to scare the man off, this was the worst case scenario - it had all gone horribly wrong. You see, his friend Sapphire owned a strip club afew blocks away from where he now stood, and she'd bought the place on a loan from someone she'd once believed to be her friend also. Within afew months she's paid off the debt to him, as the business was booming, but he'd kept coming back and demanded a monthly cut of her takings. Of course she'd said no at first but she'd been rewarded with black eyes and her fair share of cuts and bruises, so she'd given in and this cyclical set of events had continued to play themself out, each time cutting into her profit margins. She'd confided in Rouge, in a flood of tears - they'd always been close, and he'd been proud to see her own her own business, but he never knew that all of this was going on behind the scenes. And so, as any good friend would, he'd tried to protect her - and that's why he'd bought the pistol, a scare tactic to try and get the collectors off of her back.
"FUCK!" he screamed it this time. He had to cool off, he had to get his head straight. He stood, arms out to his sides a little bit to keep balance as his head was swimming - what did he need to do. Clearing his throat he closed his eyes - counting to 10 in his mind - before opening them and surveying his surroundings with a clear perspective. He dropped to one knee and carefully took the pistol, placing it in his blazer pocket before he looked around for anything else he might of left - but he found nothing. And with that he turned, and he ran.
Before long he found himself at the back entrance of Sapphire's club, panting, with sweat beading on his forehead and the blood now dry on his hands - he'd have to tell her. He didn't want to involve her but he knew it was too late for that, one of the collectors was dead - this didn't bode well for anyone. He knocked on the door fiercely, mentally and physically exhausted. She would most likely be upstairs, she had a small apartment above the club, and so she may struggle to hear him - but she had to, she just had to. He couldn't get the sound of that single gunshot out of his head, and the weight of the pistol in his pocket was almost unbearable.
Rouge stood, physically shaking as he looked down; the gun slipped from his hands and a loud metallic sound echoed down the alleyway as the frame of the small pistol bounced off the ground to land just a metre to his right. His eyes surveyed what he had just done but he could hardly believe it, there infront of him lay a corpse. It hadn't been a corpse a mere 30 seconds ago but with the simplest gesture as the squeezing of a trigger - the man's heartbeat had been stopped, his voice silenced and his breaths cut short; and Rouge had done it all. His eyes moved once again, coming into focus through afew tears to rest upon his hands - splattered lightly with blood. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck was all Rouge could think, and all he could see was the solid red of the blood.
He'd only bought the gun to scare the man off, this was the worst case scenario - it had all gone horribly wrong. You see, his friend Sapphire owned a strip club afew blocks away from where he now stood, and she'd bought the place on a loan from someone she'd once believed to be her friend also. Within afew months she's paid off the debt to him, as the business was booming, but he'd kept coming back and demanded a monthly cut of her takings. Of course she'd said no at first but she'd been rewarded with black eyes and her fair share of cuts and bruises, so she'd given in and this cyclical set of events had continued to play themself out, each time cutting into her profit margins. She'd confided in Rouge, in a flood of tears - they'd always been close, and he'd been proud to see her own her own business, but he never knew that all of this was going on behind the scenes. And so, as any good friend would, he'd tried to protect her - and that's why he'd bought the pistol, a scare tactic to try and get the collectors off of her back.
"FUCK!" he screamed it this time. He had to cool off, he had to get his head straight. He stood, arms out to his sides a little bit to keep balance as his head was swimming - what did he need to do. Clearing his throat he closed his eyes - counting to 10 in his mind - before opening them and surveying his surroundings with a clear perspective. He dropped to one knee and carefully took the pistol, placing it in his blazer pocket before he looked around for anything else he might of left - but he found nothing. And with that he turned, and he ran.
Before long he found himself at the back entrance of Sapphire's club, panting, with sweat beading on his forehead and the blood now dry on his hands - he'd have to tell her. He didn't want to involve her but he knew it was too late for that, one of the collectors was dead - this didn't bode well for anyone. He knocked on the door fiercely, mentally and physically exhausted. She would most likely be upstairs, she had a small apartment above the club, and so she may struggle to hear him - but she had to, she just had to. He couldn't get the sound of that single gunshot out of his head, and the weight of the pistol in his pocket was almost unbearable.