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Practise Roleplay: Mock First post: City of Supers!

Discussion in 'Roleplay' started by True Succubus, Dec 22, 2010.

  1. True Succubus

    True Succubus Avid Affiliate

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    This thread is for all those who want to get a bit of practise before actually really saying anything on the real Roleplay, but sort of want to get the real post going. (You get a mental cookie if you can understand that).


    A lone figure in the night, walking through the cold and dark streets, clearly annoyed and wanting to get home.

    For True Succubus, it was a busy night, but an annoying night, cold and boring. 5 brand new "Super-heroes" tried to get initialised, that meant for Christy paperwork, paperwork and yet more paperwork, with whining teenagers with either too much leather or too little silk asking "How do I do this?" "What do I need to be the best" "How can I get noticed". "Super-heroes? Ha, I wouldn't use one of them as cannon fodder" She amused herself with petty thoughts such as ways they could be useful like Tomorrow Boy's ability was to be send his arm 5 seconds ahead of time, though it just looked like it was going fast, if Christy wanted a coffee Tomorrow Boy wouldn't be exactly useless even if he was a self centred klutz, a good pain ray followed by a week in tortured imprisonment would make him change, Fast.

    Like a shadow a rather large man stood in front of True Succubus, either a dealer or a thug Christy said to herself.

    "Hello their pretty lady" He began in a thick Russian accent "It cold night, da?" Christy rather unamused simply nodded "I know what cure such problems" Bringing out a bag with black-grayish powder. Not breaking eye contact to the man Christy simply groaned tried to walk on by, the man stepped into her way ("You've got 30 seconds to move or I'll make you eat that bag, you and your friends" Christy thought to herself) The Russian man either stupid or brave continued "It also aphrodisiac, powerful one, from way you dress you like fun time, yes? Bag free if you join me a..."

    "Get out of my way or I will hurt you, last chance. You too back there" She said passively but loud enough for the others hear and to come out. 5 large men came out of the alleyway behind True Succubus, 3 of them armed with what seemed to either be pipes or just plain bars of metal ("What cowards, bringing weapons to an unarmed target?" Christy mentally criticising the thugs)

    "You on our patch lady, so either pay or we will make you pay, if you have no money, we can reach...some agreement, da?" Said the smallest thug, probably the leader. He sounded like he had the upper hand, any other day he might have gotten off lucky with a broken rip or two, today, was not that day.

    Like a bolt of lightning Christy's palm met the chest of the largest in the group, it must have felt like a Concord just hit him at full speed forcing him off his feet and through the air for some considerable distance, its unlikely he actually knew what happened or will know for a while.

    Just as True Succubus' boot risen up the others moved to attack the smallest thug jumping back landing firmly on his ass. One of the armed thugs tried to go for a sidewards swing, aiming at True Succubus' ribs, predicting the attack, Christy caught the pipe with her boot and used it to step up and with her second boot meeting the armed thug's face with some tremendous force that a Kangaroo's kick could only dream of, before the strength of the thug came off the pipe, True Succubus backflipped dodging another pipe strike aimed at the back of her knees. As her legs came around her boot met the face of the other armed thug forcing him off his feet and onto the ground, where his face met the collective force of True Succubus' backflip and her weight. After seeing 3 of his strongest comrades fell like they were twigs, one of the thugs just ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Even with 3 very large men unconscious and one absent True Succubus kept her grace which was most notable when she landed and stepped off the unconscious thug's face as if coming out of an elevator.

    The first thug, stunned in fear, simply whimpered like an injured puppy when she turned around to face him before glancing at the bag then back to him, knowing what she was indicating he quickly thrusted it into her hands before putting his hands in the air, very mercifully she gave him a light(ish) punch to the stomach then indicated that he leaves, something that he was obviously glad to have, running off with his hands on his stomach.

    True Succubus finally looks at the last remaining target, the leader on the floor trying to crawl backwards about as proud the French war history. Using the hand without the bag of drugs, she pulled the leader up with what seemed psychokinesis and pulled him to her free hand then still as passive as before, stuffed the bag into his mouth followed by a swift but light punch to the chest making him swallow the bag whole, out of reflex. The fear on this broken man's eyes would make most people wince as True Succubus put her hand on his chest and did 3 hand marks all with what seemed religious value, letting her grip of him go but him remaining in the air made the fear worse. Christy follows with another 5 hand symbols making the broken man close his eyes knowing his world is about to end then...BOOM...

    Christy punches him in the face knocking him out cold, he falls on the floor being let go from the mental grip of True Succubus, alive.

    Christy cracks her knuckles then sighs heavily ("Today...Has just got SOOO much better" She thinks to herself internally smiling) before a nice quiet and happy walk home, a warm bath, some terrible TV but a good film then a nice well deserved, wanted and needed rest.


    Of course if you write one it doesn't NEED to be this long or as detailed. I haven't properly Roleplayed for a long, long time, so any criticisms are welcome.
     
  2. noice1

    noice1 Avid Affiliate

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    Thanks for making this :) Your descriptions are nice and your similes are funny, I sometimes like to add some humor to lighten things up.

    --------
    Friends; only friends called her Belle, a play on her last name. She was certainly pretty enough to carry that nickname, but was far from lady-like, feeling comfortable in a simple black halter underneath a collared leather touch jacket, bottomed with dark jeans that hung comfortably at the hips. The early morning wind kicked up her short, black hair a bit as she strolled casually down the block before turning into the nearby parking garage, her buckled boots making a noticeable echo with each step in the dim dunnel that led above ground.

    Unclasping the steel wire lock for her full, black helmet, she paused, turning her head down the vacant concrete level, then back the other way. The air felt like it had suddenly changed; a heavier atmosphere. There was a red SUV near the back wall. Out of curiosity, Lili twitched her eyes, causing her irises to shimmer indigo, soaking in ultraviolet light. Nothing. One blink later and her eyes returned to their natural hazel, only to be covered by a snug, black motorcycle helmet with a dark visor.

    Firing up her baby, the race bike purred like a kitten. Lightweight, aggressive and insanely quick, what could she say? It was her drug of choice as she led a life mostly free of ill-gotten substances. Now on the prowl, Lili worked her way down to ground level, opening the throttle up and let her girl scream. That feeling never got old.

    Just a mile had gone by before Lili had attracted some company. A Kamikaze motored to catch up to her, then tail gated. She knew the cartels that prowled the city, but this one had clearly strayed a bit too far from his turf. Lili sped up, changed lanes and took a few turns, but her every move was mirrored. Knowing a high-speed venture was possible at this hour, it was still risky. Not wanting to become road kill, she found a motel to pull into and parked near the entrance in the lot.

    Without an ounce of fear, Lili casually killed the engine, dropped the kickstand and got off. The cartel vehicle stormed in and dove head first to cut her off. Bailing out, the thugs quickly circled her, their vile Spanish curses quickly turning to energized hollers as she slid her helmet off, revealing her young beauty.

    At least one of them was bold enough to approach her, and he appeared to be one of two that were waving guns. He was cocky enough to keep it lowered as he sauntered over to Lili, appraising her and, in all the dignity of a drunken Mexican at a strip club, gave a whistle. Lili interpreted herself at least a 9/10, judging from the pitch it reached, but she gauged they were high enough to hump a mailbox wearing a dress.

    Unblinking, Lili let the machismo around her cultivate for a moment, just enough to let them get comfortable. Another decided to slink up behind her, positioning his pelvis against her tight bottom, digging his snub revolver into her abdomen. The young woman tilted her head in mock approval, slowly lacing her fingers around his, bringing the gun against her crotch. She pulled his arm forward, lewdly taking interest in his extended manhood. Licking her lips, she dragged it up, now tracing her hand around his that held the gun. It was guiding, it was hot as she stroked his inner leg with hers, all the way up until a soft tap of her boot spurred the pointed steel surprise within her heel to retract.

    She had spread her hand over the horny dirtbag's paw, covering the trigger before the back of her foot came straight up into his perineum. With all the control of a puppet master, it was a simple matter to direct a shot that blew out the back of the next cartel member's head. Liberating her unsuspecting victim from his gun, she had to immediately react to one of the others charging with a blunt object. This was answered as Lili wound her right arm back and flung her motorcycle helmet straight into his face with all her might, instantly breaking his nose and front teeth before he fell to the ground.

    Turning the gun on the final two cartel members, armed with blades, Lili easily kept them at bay, but they were a distance apart. As one showed he would attack, she had to turn the gun away from the other. Never one to shoot anyone she didn't have to, Lili tossed the pistol and dropped into a readied stance. Unfortunately for them, both were bold enough to charge. The first to reach her was kicked straight in the chest, shoving him back before he could get within range. The other rushed in and made several wild strikes that were easily dodged. As he finally thrust straight at the girl, she held her ground and delivered a kick underneath his arm, exposing him, then pistoned her leg straight into his groin, causing him to double over. With her leg still extended, she cocked her calf back and swooped her heavy boot into his jaw with impressive follow-through.

    Not deterred, the last man standing was only emboldened, his pride clearly on the line as he battled a girl half his size. He laughed maniacally as he approached Lili again, who stood defiantly, eyes staring a hole through her attacker. As he let out a war cry, Lili was nearly robotic in the way she stopped the blade coming at her, letting the kinetic energy of the man's lunge carry through, past her as she side-stepped, and flipped him over onto his back. Her grip still tight on his wrist, a firm twist of his arm caused his claw to open, letting the weapon pathetically fall to the pavement. Crossing her leg over, she scissored his shoulder joint and twisted her grip even harder, the man's arm bent backwards as she stood dominant. His cry for mercy had seemed to work as Lili eased the tension for a split-second, but only due to her raising her leg before it came straight down, breaking his arm in two with a sickening snap.

    The band of Mexican drug cartel members were either dead or wishing they were. As Lili grabbed her helmet and bolted for her bike, a siren could already be heard in the distance. Neighborhood dogs were hushed as Lili revved up her Hayabusa, spun it around with a precise skid and laid rubber to road. Her fingerprints and DNA purged from every database, the only sign of her presence was tire tread. She was a ghost again.
     
  3. kained

    kained Avid Affiliate Ryonani Teamster

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    "King to B4", Cedric commands his computer. A large flat screen attached to the wall displays digital chess pieces, a game being played with an advanced programme which defeated chess masters in the early 2000s and had since been adapted for military use. Cedric acquired the program for himself. It didn't come cheaply. This game is lasting longer than most that he played - the time hits the 20 minute mark.

    The fast paced rhytm of John Coltraine's jazz fills the luxerious penthouse as Cedric Royal stands on a large gym mat, surrounded by 6 men - some of them as large as he.

    The largest rushes Royal, and another rushing direcly behind him. Cedric effortlessly shifts his stance into Keysi fighting, placing the palms of his hands on top of his head, protecting himself with his elbows, he crouches as the larger man attempts to grab him - no good, Cedric's left elbow deflected the attempt, and with swift and direct motions he plants his other elbow into the man's leg, then into his sternum, then finally into his jaw - the bone breaking on impact. The other man grabs Cedric's Gi Karate uniform from behind, but he turns quickly swatting the other man's arms, and grabs his waist. He shifts behind the other man, and with his free arm grabs his leg, and using his weight slams him into the mat.

    "Rook takes pawn, B4" Royal says between breaths, taking a look at the screen. The computer had been using a variation of the Caro-Kann strategy. Tricky, but after making the necassary sacrafices, Royal had turned the tables. His opponent would use his exposed Queen to take the rook, but there was now nothing to stop him from crowning a pawn at the top of the board, then after that the game would be over in one move.

    Towards the end, it had become necassary to expose his own Queen. It was reminescent of his situation in this new city. 'Don't shit where you eat', is one of the rules of the streets. Cedric had been able to rule one city while living hundreds of miles away in another. His empire had grown considerably, and he had his sights on somewhere new. He had various strategies for taking over a city, most of these strategies kept himself far away and out of reach. For this 'City of Supers', he had thought it best to employ a long term strategy of first setting up legitimate business fronts before moving the criminal element in.

    That was 8 months ago. Just one of the businesses was a laundry factory, which now had a fully operational 24/7 meth lab lying underneath. Another business was a trucking and shipping company by the docks - it's legitimate use was for shipping foreign cars into the city, while at the same time, illicit goods were being shipped in. Guns, mostly. Shipped in and then driven by truck to discreet warehouses for distribution to dealers. In a city of superheroes, the demand was high in the criminal underworld for heavy duty firepower.

    Business was good - but it could be better. Lower criminal elements were more than willing to throw their muscle and resources into Royal's syndicate - they weren't stupid and could recognize a superior force when they saw it. However, taking over the more established criminal groups, and taking over corners, streets, high rises, and other real estate was proving to be slow work. Much slower than Royal was happy with. The problem was in showing any outward displays of power. Set up a group of dealers in a district and it was only a matter of time before a 'super' would shake the group down. Royal knew the game, he could have his people, and does have his people, handle business in much more subtle ways. A cop can be paid off, can meet with a dealer at a discreet time and place, and through him business can be done with other criminals. That is just one of the methods. But the more discreet means made income slow, and meant allowing other criminal groups to keep hold of property.

    And so, Royal made the decision that he must personally assess the situation - therefore exposing himself, just as he had allowed his Queen to become exposed in chess. It seemed several options were open to him. On the street level, he could make it that the streets are so flooded with criminals that a super wouldn't know where to begin, that they would be too distracted to deal with his own men. Meanwhile, he would have the most highly trained men armed with the best firepower. He could have law enforcement, the courts, politicians either bought or infiltrated - creating a corrupt system that would practically become a revolving door for criminals. He would make supers afraid of his criminal gangs. Having a few gruesome examples of what can be done to those who oppose him should do the job. The job of a super would be made so hard, so fruitless, and if that doesn't make them give up, the fear will. And supers are as susceptible to blackmail and bribing as anyone.

    And if after that, there are still supers who stand in his way? Well, he'll personally see to it that they'll severely regret ever trying to be a hero.

    Another opponent comes in from the left side swinging a punch. Cedric grabs the arm and locks it in a painful hold over his opponents back, drives a hard knee into his midsection, and uses a Judo flip to take the man into the path of another opponent coming from his right side. The man trips over, falling into a hard palm strike knocking him out cold.

    "King to A8! CHECKMATE!"" Cedric yells, after the computer had made the predicted move and he crowned his pawn. In the very next instant, an opponent swings for Cedric's head, he ducks it, and brings the man to the ground with a Jiu-Jitsu underarm hook takedown. He locks on an armbar, and before the man can tap, Cedric slams his leg into the man's throat. The final opponent attempts to stomp on Cedric but he rolls from it, and he's gracefully back on his feet. The last man grabs the wrist of Cedric attempting to twist it into a wrist lock but before he can, Cedric leaps into the air, and brings the opponent down with a flying triangle choke. His opponent's neck is gripped tight into the thigh of Cedric, he has no choice but to tap out before he passes out.

    Cedric stands, and grabs a towel from a rail, wiping the sweat from his head. The 6 men pick themselves up, heading for the door. They know that they will be well compensated for their injuries and will return to their duties as Royal's personal bodyguards. In the last 20 minutes, they are the 4th group of 6 men to challenge Cedric, not a single man could tag him. And all the while, he had been playing chess with one of the most advanced chess programs in the world.

    He stands at the window of his expensive abode, gazing across the city, the shadows pooling into the streets below. His penthouse rests ontop of a tall hotel. He purchased the entire building as soon as he came into the city, of course.

    This is his castle. This is his side of the chess board. The rest of the city is an opponent to be conquered.
     
  4. kained

    kained Avid Affiliate Ryonani Teamster

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    The Whispering Death sprints through the harsh cold wind, leaping from one high rise rooftop to the next, the streets dozens of feet beneath her. She allows herself to fall into the next shadowy gap between buildings, her hands clasp on a fire escape ladder, and she athletically hoists herself up. Her black and red leather top and combat trousers protect her from the elements, her black hood conceals her face while her auburn hair spills out. She shimmies across a thin ledge, around the corner, then makes another jump to a nearby rooftop, landing like a graceful cat. The young assassin takes a long thin case strapped to her back and opens it - revealing the parts of a sniper rifle. She snaps the parts together the same way a normal person might ride a bycicle. It's in her memory - she could do it perfectly 100 times over blindfolded. Also strapped to her back is a crossbow that folds out when a button is pressed on it, and a slither of arrows. She also has a gun holstered to each leg.

    She pitches herself behind a small wall, and looks at the world through the glass of the sniper lense. Her target is across the street, in an apartment on the 10th floor. Amelio, a street thug who fancies himself as an up and coming Tony Montana, believes that just because he has super strength that this entitles him to come into Cedric Royal's territory. Amelio has managed to amass an impressive number of hoods - believing that if they stand behind a super then they will be unstoppable. Her orders are to chop this gang off at the head. She inhales, her finger on the trigger-

    That's when she feels the tip of a gun on her temple. "It would be wise for you to drop the gun, honey", a young gangster says, grinning ear to ear. "See Amelio is smart. He thought maybe the cops would use a spot like this to keep an eye on him, so he got cameras". The thug nods to a CCTV camera on a wall, looking straight at her. Idiot. How could I get so clumsy?

    She gently lays the gun on the floor, the thug takes a step back as she slowly stands. She sees at least 20 men surrounding her, all armed, and she has her back to the edge of the roof. "We gon' have some fun with this girly, homes", says another hood. Someone steps forward to take the guns from her holsters, but before anyone can even blink, she grabs the arm of the goon, twisting him around and throwing him into the thug that had his gun on her. The next closest man to her tries grabbing her but she does a type of overhead pele kick, knocking the man flat. Her style is flashy and fast. When she is on the floor she moves her momentum into a barrel roll, drawing her guns, gun fire whizzes over her head as she opens fire. She moves through the crowd, allowing her years of Gun Kata training to guide her instincts, moving her lithe athletic body into positions of best trajectory for her weapons to be effective while at the same time moving into positions that their trajectory won't hit. Bullets fly around the dangerous battlefield as her automatic pistols bring down one man after another, their own semi-automatic machine guns missing wildly. She grabs a man closest to her, using him as a human shield as she moves into better position, sensing that her magazines are almost out.

    When she does run out of ammo, she takes the gun of her human shield, bringing down 3 more men to her right in her line of fire. She pushes her human shield to the ground, runs right up to another man trying to reload, and she leaps into the air, wrapping her long legs tightly around his head, she twists her body, throwing him to the dirt in a hurricarana. In a swift cartwheel, she grabs his gun, downs another 2 men, and breaks the jaw of another man with straight kick to his face.

    And just like that, they're all either dead or unconscious. She stands to allow herself a moment to breath, taking in the carnage around her. She remembers her target, running back to her sniper's position. He's gone, of course. In the street below, she can see Amelio jump into a car. He speeds off. Her position is no good. She gives chase across the rooftops - the cityscape is like her jungle gym. Sprinting, jumping, swinging. She catches sight of the car again - its on a long road. From here, she can have a straight line of sight. All she needs.

    She sets up the gun, finds the car in her line of sight, and fires. In this perfect moment of the kill, crystalized, are the memories which brought her to this point.

    Her father was a cop, one of the best. Her mother was a trapeze artist. Both of them were proficient martial artists, and trained her from a young age. Not to make her deadly, but to instill in her discipline, hard work, patience, and a healthy mind and body. Alberto, her father, had been chasing a ghost, a criminal many in his department said did not exist. It almost cost Alberto his job, but he was getting close. As it turned out, he was too close.

    He was approached several times by secretive men in the street. He would be buying a coffee in broad daylight, and a stranger would brush past him and hand him a package. The package would have a note, and it was clear what the note meant. Drop the case, and he would get paid. It was a bribe. Each time, the bribe was higher. When Alberto refused $500, 000, the threats started. Drop the case, or you're dead. Alberto was a proud man, he loved his work, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he dropped it. So he continued.

    Cedric Royal stormed Gustavo's home one day with legions of men. Royal witnessed Alberto, his wife, and their 15 year old daughter Marie fight scores of highly trained men to a standstill. The daughter alone had killed 5 men twice her size. But they became overwhelmed. Royal's men tortured Alberto, made him and the daughter watch as they raped and murdered the wife, then they took turns on the daughter. Cedric ordered them to halt before they murdered her - he was impressed by the abilities of someone so young. Then, in front of her eyes, some faceless underling put a bullet through Alberto's head. As the exclamation mark, they burned the house to the ground.

    The image seared itself into her mind as they dragged her away.

    For the next 2 years, Marie was passed around as a sexual plaything. Vile, disgusting men who would tie her down, torture her, and take turns with her. Still, she resisted, sometimes the man using her wouldn't make it out alive. It came to the point that grown men were afraid to approach the prisoner. As impressed as he was by her spirit, Cedric could see in the young girl's eyes that she was breaking. The images of the cruelty exacted to her parents were on her mind everyday. She just needed a push over the edge. So, Cedric made her a promise - that if on her 17th birthday she could win a fighting tournament, he would let her leave his prison. She would be free. What Cedric did not tell her was that Marie was to be in every round of the tournament, that she had to defeat 12 opponents in a row, with only a one hour break between fights. The final unfair rule was that if she were unble to defeat an opponent within 5 minutes, there would be a penalty.

    He handpicked her opponents - blackbelts, championship winners - and set it up so that each opponent would be tougher than the next. In each round, they would fight until one was unable to fight any longer. She was forced to compete in a skimpy bikini, a way to mock her, and to remind her of her sexual objectivity. The 17 year old defeated the first man fairly easily, a 21 year old from Brazil, but she suffered some nasty blows to the head. With her one hour of rest she had drinking water, but no food. Cedric watched each fight from ring side, his every need tended to.

    Marie surprised opponents with her quickness and strength, leaping through the air to attack them, overwhelming them with her built up anger. But her opponents were skilled, able to deliver hard strikes to her left knee and head before being overwhelmed by her quick flurry of attacks. By the time she was facing her 4th opponent, she was limping on her left leg, and a nasty cut formed on her head.

    The 4th man had 10 years of Tae Kwon Do experience, and he too was very fast. He came into the fight immediately catching the girl with one spinning kick after another, and another, and she couldn't escape on her limping leg. When she tried to leap at him with a luchadore manouver, he had seen it coming, and delivered a devastating fly kick to her gut. Realizing that she could not call it quits, she continued to fight on, clutching her stomach. Her opponent got cocky, assuming that she was unable to fight back, trying to take her into a basic headlock. She punished him a flying armbar, locking it on, she ignored his taps and continued her grip until his arm broke.

    Up next was a 300lb 'professional' wrestler. He was able to dominate the girl through pure size, strength, and weight advantage. His limbs were just too big for her to lock on any effective submissions. He was practically laughing off her best strikes. And still being winded from the previous fights, he was able to catch her easily. Delivering painful backbreakers, powerbombs, and after he delivered a piledriver - dropping her ontop of her head with his weight followed close behind - she was left dizzy and trying to crawl away. He sat himself on the middle of her back, and clasped both hands in front of her jaw, arching her back into a camel clutch. They were in that position for 10 minutes, the girl screaming her heart out but refusing to give up. At one point he grabbed her leg and made her foot touch the back of her head while tears streamed down her face. The round overall lasted an hour, eventually the wrestler exhausted himself, and Marie was able to bring him to the ground by continually attacking his legs. She wrapped her own legs around his neck and choked him out.

    After spending the great majority of an hour being humiliated and thrown around like a rag doll, her body wracked with pain, and barely able to walk, she was limping back to her seat. However, her penalty for not being able to finish the fight in 5 minutes was that she was to face the next opponent immediately. She was informed with a hard kick to the small of her back. She was flipped around on the ropes to see a 6 foot tall steroid filled kick boxing freak just in time for him to deliver a series of hard rights and lefts. Each time he hit her it felt like the lights in the room were blowing up. He gripped her head and hit her repeatidly with the hardest knee strikes she ever felt, her sweat drenched hair clinging to her face. He pushed her up and delivered one hard swinging kick to her pretty face, and as she fell forward he delivered a swinging backhanded blow for good measure.

    When she could no longer defend herself, groaning on the ground as he kicked her repeatidly, Cedric stepped in - and to display his own prowess, he beat the kickboxer to within an inch of his life as Marie watched. "I'm number 12," he said. "You'll never be allowed to leave me"

    When she eventually recovered, she understood the full meaning of what Cedric had meant. She could never leave, but now she didn't want to.

    She looks at the carnage caused through the scope of her rifle, the driver's brains splattered over the wheel, the car swerves out of control and off the road into a wall.

    With her will broken, Cedric Royal was able to mold her. "Killing people is what I'm made for," she whispers to herself on the rooftop.

    Despite the fact that he killed her parents, she would never betray him - and he knew that. Over the years she had been allowed more freedom. She opens the window to her own apartment, takes off her clothes, and has a long, warm shower.