macrossRPG.COMmunity

[Nomad Soul]

The lights and sounds streaked past the lone figure riding atop a Japanese racing style motorcycle. Easily one could tell a woman was the driver of this speeding machine, decked out in black leather pants and a jacket to match, the material made her figure very prominent. Her helmet had a custom painted skull over the entire front portion, which grinned evily at whom ever looked her way.

Reflections from neon signs bounced off the black tinted visor, making thier own dazzling light show on it's surface. The racer clentched her fists tightly on the handles and reved the engine loudly, increasing her speed. The colours zoomed by faster now, making it seem like it was only her and the bike inside a tunnel of lights.

Kesia lived for this stuff, speed was an absolute rush to the senses. She was thankful the streets were so bare tonight. There were no cars to get in her path.

Hours earlier she had rented this motorcycle after arriving in city 15 from the beginhill ship. She had spent a long three years there and was now waiting on the arrival of a transport to her first real assignment. There were a few hours to kill so a joy ride seemed like good an idea as any.
She was almost sorry to be leaving the beginhill but excited at the same time. Change excited her. Not knowing what was around the corner was something that she loved. This was a far cry from the way she had thought earlier in her life however. Up until the tragidy, she had led a sheltered life.

"It's all you fault!" she remembered screaming to her father before slamming the door and never looking back. Even now the pain was still strong, made worse even by years of time for reflection. So much time without contact with her parents just seemed to make her resent them more. Mostly for not trying to find her and bring her back, maybe they didn't even care enough to try.

A cat ran across the road in front of Kesia just then, bringing her back to reality. She swerved quickly to avoid it but lost control.
"Shit!"
She tried desperately to regain control and slow down, and did to a degree but she was still going way too fast for this to be a soft landing.

Up over the curb she flew, thankfully landing on a pile of garbage bags in front of a store of some kind. Out of sight she heard the bike still skidding down the street, overturned now, sending the horrendous sound of metal scraping on pavement into the calm night air.

Kesia sighed within her helmet, fogging up the visor. "That's gonna be expensive..." she mumbled to herself.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-18 12:48 ]</font>

[Halo]

Kesia laid limp on a pile of stinking salvation – two tiny paws pressed against her helmet and a tongue lapping spilt cola from a punctured garbage bag off her visor. She was unharmed, thanks to the numerous sacks of garbage beneath her, but the same could not be said for the rented bike. Kesia tilted her head upwards and spied the motorcycle. It rested on its side a good twenty yards down the road and its rear wheel slowly spinning to a halt.

If there was considered a “bad part of town” in City-15, she was laying in it. Although not a true slum or ghetto, it was obviously of lower economic standing than the rest of the giant, space-borne city. The buildings were drab by comparison and litter marked the streets (and conveniently piled in the alleyway she now occupied). The lights of the building next to her were still on and the aroma of a restaurant was heavy in the air.

A short, portly man rushed from the restaurant’s door wielding a baseball bat and yelling, “Thought I told you punks to stay away from my place! For the last time, I’m not gonna –” His words fell short as he round the corner to the alley and stood over Kesia.

“That don’t look like no Hellion to me, pop,” a boy of maybe fourteen said as he rushed to his father’s side.

The older mad still held the bat but relaxed his stance a bit. True, the body lounging in his nightly trash didn’t fit the usual profile. Clothes too nice, no gang symbols on the outside, and the curves underneath the tight leather definitely didn’t fit the profile. One of their hussies, perhaps . . . but not one of the gang. “You alright, missy?” he asked but kept his bat up just the same.


[ This Message was edited by: Halo on 2004-08-18 20:21 ]

[Kesia Alfonse]

"Ohhh..." groaned the fallen motorcyclist, as she struggled to sit up staight. Some sort of animal that had been licking her slipped off Kesia's helmet once she was up.

She reluctantly took a quick glance at the bike which had slid quite aways down the street. Visibly she winced once the extent of the damage was realized.
"Oh man, that's gonna cost me an arm and a leg...or more."

She looked at her surroundings, dark alleys, abandoned streets, buildings in dire need of repair. Yup this wasn't a good place to be at night. But it's what she had lived with for three years before joining UN Spacy, so oddly enough, she didn't feel terribly out of place.

A noise came from her right, and a figure approached. In silhouette she could already make out the contour of a rather plump man.

"Thought I told you punks to stay away from my place! For the last time, I’m not gonna.."
She heard the man yell angrily. This signaled for a retreat, but upon attempting to scamper away she found she was just too deep in trash to get any leverage. All she managed to do was create a loud clammering noise.
"Ungh! Ahhh!" she grunted while flopping around like a beached fish.

The figure came into view and Kesia closed her eyes, fully expecting that the next thing to go through her head would be a bullet.

“That don’t look like no Hellion to me, pop,” A much softer voice called from behind her would be assailant.
She opened her eyes to spy a young kid run up beside the man, who she now noticed was wielding a bat. The man relaxed a bit but still held his bat ready to strike if need be. Kesia decided she needed to diffuse the situation a bit.

“You alright, missy?”he asked, looking her over more closely to get a good idea of just who she might be.

"Look mister..." she began, mind racing for an explanation of what she was doing on his premises.
She stammered out, "There was uhhh...this cat you see..."

She kept talking while trying to get up out of the stench pile, "Ungh..and I was on my bike. It ran out in front of me and I tried to avoid it...agh!"
Just as she was nearly to her feet she slipped on something particularly slimy and fell back down hard on her behind. "Oooommmfff!"

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-19 06:18 ]

[Nomad Soul]

"Ohhh..." groaned the fallen motorcyclist, as she struggled to sit up staight. Some sort of animal that had been licking her slipped off Kesia's helmet once she was up.

She reluctantly took a quick glance at the bike which had slid quite aways down the street. Visibly she winced once the extent of the damage was realized.
"Oh man, that's gonna cost me an arm and a leg...or more."

She looked at her surroundings, dark alleys, abandoned streets, buildings in dire need of repair. Yup this wasn't a good place to be at night. But it's what she had lived with for three years before joining UN Spacy, so oddly enough, she didn't feel terribly out of place.

A noise came from her right, and a figure approached. In silhouette she could already make out the contour of a rather plump man.

"Thought I told you punks to stay away from my place! For the last time, I’m not gonna.."
She heard the man yell angrily. This signaled for a retreat, but upon attempting to scamper away she found she was just too deep in trash to get any leverage. All she managed to do was create a loud clammering noise.
"Ungh! Ahhh!" she grunted while flopping around like a beached fish.

The figure came into view and Kesia closed her eyes, fully expecting that the next thing to go through her head would be a bullet.

“That don’t look like no Hellion to me, pop,” A much softer voice called from behind her would be assailant.
She opened her eyes to spy a young kid run up beside the man, who she now noticed was wielding a bat. The man relaxed a bit but still held his bat ready to strike if need be. Kesia decided she needed to diffuse the situation a bit.

“You alright, missy?”he asked, looking her over more closely to get a good idea of just who she might be.

"Look mister..." she began, mind racing for an explanation of what she was doing on his premises.
She stammered out, "There was uhhh...this cat you see..."

She kept talking while trying to get up out of the stench pile, "Ungh..and I was on my bike. It ran out in front of me and I tried to avoid it...agh!"
Just as she was nearly to her feet she slipped on something particularly slimy and fell back down hard on her behind. "Oooommmfff!"

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-19 06:18 ]

[Halo]

The restaurateur paused, still eying the girl and wondering exactly how much he wants to get involved. With a sigh he leans over and holds the end of his bat out to Kesia. “Here . . . grab hold,” he says and wrenches her out of the garbage and onto her feet.

“We do our best to keep this neighborhood quiet,” he comments as he tugs a mostly clean towel free from the waist of his apron and holds it out to her. “It’s hard enough getting paying customers in without having to worry about hotshot kids rocketing around outside.”

Slowly around the restaurant, the lights in the neighboring windows flicked off as spectators realized there was nothing too exciting about this wreck and went back to their business. Down the street the boy was attempting to pull the still-running bike back to an upright position.

“This ain’t no place for you, missy” the chubby man stated matter-of-factly. “If you’re hungry and have money, come on in and have a bite. If not, I suggest you fetch your fancy scooter and go about your business.” He turned and walked to the door of his restaurant pausing only to call back over his shoulder, “Kenny! Leave that thing alone and get your butt inside. Those dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves!”


[ This Message was edited by: Halo on 2004-08-19 11:45 ]

[Kesia Alfonse]

Kesia looked up at the man through the shaded visor. She could tell that he was kind at heart, but had most likely developed a hard disposition due to his experiences in this bad neighborhood. Sort of like her self, she knew the streets could change anyone who was forced to survive on them. He was just a victem of circumstance.

The girl outstretched a gloved hand and gripped tightly onto the bat, which had only moments ago threatened to beat her down. The man lifted her small frame from the pile easily until she was able to stand on her own feet.
“Thanks…” she began but was quickly cut off.

"We do our best to keep this neighborhood quiet, It’s hard enough getting paying customers in without having to worry about hotshot kids rocketing around outside.
“This ain’t no place for you, missy. If you’re hungry and have money, come on in and have a bite. If not, I suggest you fetch your fancy scooter and go about your business.” the man said before handing her a towel and proceeding to walk out of the small alleyway and round the corner to his restaurant.

Kesia didn’t see a point in giving him an apology, he didn’t seem the type to want one anyways. He called to the boy and beckoned him back inside.

After both had retreated back to their establishment Kesia took the opportunity to give her self a once over. She flipped up the visor on her helmet and took a look. She’d been in worse condition. Besides a couple bruises that she could already tell were going to appear, she seemed to be okay. Her clothes weren’t ripped, thanks to the toughness of the leather but they were covered in various putrid slimes of all colours, textures and smells.

She toweled off as best she could before preparing to face what was left of her ride. Walking over to the motorcycle she took another look around at her surroundings. Still the streets were empty, the people here must be very used to commotion at this hour of the night.
The bike was off now, the engine probably shut down by the boy, or maybe it just conked out which would be the worse situation. She kneeled down and rested her elbows on her knees. After looking over the damage she concluded it wasn’t all that bad. In fact she could fix it herself, had she the time. Unfortunately she was scheduled to depart for her next assignment sooner than it would take to fix the bike.
Kesia sighed heavily. The ol’ piggy bank was gonna take a big hit this time. She remained crouched in front of her bike for another few moments in thought.
“Grrruummmblleee”, went her stomach as the smell of food entered her nose. With a grunt she grabbed the bike, stood it upright and began to walk it back to the sidewalk.

Fifteen minutes later the door to the man’s restaurant creaked open slowly and the stranger peeked her helmeted head inside.
“Hello? I brought your towel back and I hope you don’t mind but I parked my bike in your alley.” She called inside.


[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-19 13:28 ]

[Nomad Soul]

Kesia looked up at the man through the shaded visor. She could tell that he was kind at heart, but had most likely developed a hard disposition due to his experiences in this bad neighborhood. Sort of like her self, she knew the streets could change anyone who was forced to survive on them. He was just a victem of circumstance.

The girl outstretched a gloved hand and gripped tightly onto the bat, which had only moments ago threatened to beat her down. The man lifted her small frame from the pile easily until she was able to stand on her own feet.
“Thanks…” she began but was quickly cut off.

"We do our best to keep this neighborhood quiet, It’s hard enough getting paying customers in without having to worry about hotshot kids rocketing around outside.
“This ain’t no place for you, missy. If you’re hungry and have money, come on in and have a bite. If not, I suggest you fetch your fancy scooter and go about your business.” the man said before handing her a towel and proceeding to walk out of the small alleyway and round the corner to his restaurant.

Kesia didn’t see a point in giving him an apology, he didn’t seem the type to want one anyways. He called to the boy and beckoned him back inside.

After both had retreated back to their establishment Kesia took the opportunity to give her self a once over. She flipped up the visor on her helmet and took a look. She’d been in worse condition. Besides a couple bruises that she could already tell were going to appear, she seemed to be okay. Her clothes weren’t ripped, thanks to the toughness of the leather but they were covered in various putrid slimes of all colours, textures and smells.

She toweled off as best she could before preparing to face what was left of her ride. Walking over to the motorcycle she took another look around at her surroundings. Still the streets were empty, the people here must be very used to commotion at this hour of the night.
The bike was off now, the engine probably shut down by the boy, or maybe it just conked out which would be the worse situation. She kneeled down and rested her elbows on her knees. After looking over the damage she concluded it wasn’t all that bad. In fact she could fix it herself, had she the time. Unfortunately she was scheduled to depart for her next assignment sooner than it would take to fix the bike.
Kesia sighed heavily. The ol’ piggy bank was gonna take a big hit this time. She remained crouched in front of her bike for another few moments in thought.
“Grrruummmblleee”, went her stomach as the smell of food entered her nose. With a grunt she grabbed the bike, stood it upright and began to walk it back to the sidewalk.

Fifteen minutes later the door to the man’s restaurant creaked open slowly and the stranger peeked her helmeted head inside.
“Hello? I brought your towel back and I hope you don’t mind but I parked my bike in your alley.” She called inside.


[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-19 13:28 ]

[Halo]

Kesia peeked her head through the front door of Jimmy Colombo’s Italian Ristorante and was immediately washed over with the thick scent of pasta, garlic and tomato sauces. The dining area was mostly as one would expect for a family-run Italian restaurant in this part of town – dimly lit save for tiny holographic candles centered on each table (a few suffering from a flickering disrepair but not yet replaced). Red and white checkered clothes draped over each table, and a set of limply hung half double doors that squeaked every time a person entered or left the kitchen.

The walls were lined with row after row of pictures featuring smiling policemen enjoying heavy piles of spaghetti and lasagna. A sign proudly displayed: “Colombo’s -- Serving Those Who Serve Us Since 2012. Uniformed Policemen Eat Free.” However, none of City-15’s finest were dining this evening. Instead there were a few patrons scattered about the dining room . . . an overweight woman thumbing through a tabloid at one table, an elderly couple at another, a boy Kesia’s age sat alone in the corner chatting on a cell phone while he waited for his order, and girl in her early thirties was perched upon a bar stool putting more effort into working a crossword than serving the patrons.

“Hello? I brought your towel back and I hope you don’t mind but I parked my bike in your alley.”

“Not at all, missy,” the man from the alley (presumably Jimmy Colombo) greeted Kesia at the door and took back his towel.

“Hey, pop – eight letter word for courage. Starts with a B . . .” the girl on the stool called from across the room.

“Bravery” Jimmy answered without missing a beat. “Now make yourself useful and wipe down a table for the lady.”

The man in the corner shook his head and flipped his phone closed. “You’re getting rusty, Old Timer,” he joked and slipped the phone back into his jeans. “That’s seven letters. Try Backbone.”

The girl tapped the puzzle with the tip of her pencil, her lips silently spelling out the word. “Hey, that fits! Thanks Tommy.”

“Whatever,” Jimmy growled and snatched the puzzle from her hands. “Crosswords will wait . . . customers won’t.” The girl took the hint and slipped off her perch. She wiped a table down for Kesia and offered her a menu.

“Welcome to Jimmy Colombo’s, miss. My name’s Connie and I’ll be serving you this evening,” her words rolled off with a well rehearsed cadence. “Our special tonight is the bottomless spaghetti, all you can eat for 7.99. Can I start you off with something to drink?”


[ This Message was edited by: Halo on 2004-08-20 16:07 ]

[Kesia Alfonse]

The restaurant appeared to be of the Italian type upon first glance. That was good, she liked pasta. The place wasn't very nice asthetically, but it had a certain welcoming feeling around it. Tacky table cloths, busted holographic candles and a cast of characters that looked like they came right out of a situation comedy show.

She handed the man she assumed was "Jimmy" his towel back, and stood in the door for a moment second guessing whether or not she wanted to come in, or if she should try and get her bike repaired. She caught a whiff of something delicious and decided to stay.
The waitress (she assumed) sat at the bar labouring over a cross word. As she watched everybody's comversations it occured to her that everybody here seemed very comfortable with eachother, like they did this same thing every night by routine. It was a little weird, like walking into the twilight zone.

“Welcome to Jimmy Colombo’s, miss. My name’s Connie and I’ll be serving you this evening,Our special tonight is the bottomless spaghetti, all you can eat for 7.99. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

"Uhh sure the special sounds good to me." she said without much hesitation. The quicker she was eating the better. When she was hungry everything else had to wait.
"And for a drink I'll just have water please."

As the waitress walked away Kesia slipped her thumbs up under the edges of her helmet. With a slight tug she pushed it up and over her head revealing her face for the first time to the room.
She ran a hand through her short white, red and black streaked hair to get rid of any helmet hair that she had. The biker was a young african american woman with wild hair and dark, smooth skin.
She held her helmet under her arm and began to walk towards a seat on one of the bar stools. Kesia sat down slowly, her tight leather pants gave a loud creaking noise as they scrunched up around her knees.
Placing the helmet beside her, she looked down at her dirty black leather jacket, and began to unzip it.
Guess I should get this filthy thing off. , she thought uneasily. Man I must stink..
She felt very self conscious suddenly. No one enjoyed smelling like garbage in front of others. No matter how much of a loner they were.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-07 14:36 ]

[Nomad Soul]

The restaurant appeared to be of the Italian type upon first glance. That was good, she liked pasta. The place wasn't very nice asthetically, but it had a certain welcoming feeling around it. Tacky table cloths, busted holographic candles and a cast of characters that looked like they came right out of a situation comedy show.

She handed the man she assumed was "Jimmy" his towel back, and stood in the door for a moment second guessing whether or not she wanted to come in, or if she should try and get her bike repaired. She caught a whiff of something delicious and decided to stay.
The waitress (she assumed) sat at the bar labouring over a cross word. As she watched everybody's comversations it occured to her that everybody here seemed very comfortable with eachother, like they did this same thing every night by routine. It was a little weird, like walking into the twilight zone.

“Welcome to Jimmy Colombo’s, miss. My name’s Connie and I’ll be serving you this evening,Our special tonight is the bottomless spaghetti, all you can eat for 7.99. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

"Uhh sure the special sounds good to me." she said without much hesitation. The quicker she was eating the better. When she was hungry everything else had to wait.
"And for a drink I'll just have water please."

As the waitress walked away Kesia slipped her thumbs up under the edges of her helmet. With a slight tug she pushed it up and over her head revealing her face for the first time to the room.
She ran a hand through her short white, red and black streaked hair to get rid of any helmet hair that she had. The biker was a young african american woman with wild hair and dark, smooth skin.
She held her helmet under her arm and began to walk towards a seat on one of the bar stools. Kesia sat down slowly, her tight leather pants gave a loud creaking noise as they scrunched up around her knees.
Placing the helmet beside her, she looked down at her dirty black leather jacket, and began to unzip it.
Guess I should get this filthy thing off. , she thought uneasily. Man I must stink..
She felt very self conscious suddenly. No one enjoyed smelling like garbage in front of others. No matter how much of a loner they were.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-07 14:36 ]

[Halo]

Connie fetched a pitcher of water for Kesia and then disappeared back into the kitchen. Once gone, the man from the corner who had previously been occupied with his cell phone and interjecting crossword answers, stands from his table and walks over to the bar counter. He was dressed in an old t-shirt and faded blue jeans with a “wise guy” type expression that clearly marked him as a local. He rests his plate of baked ziti and cola next to Kesia and sits up on the stool.

“So . . .” he opens conversationally while absentmindedly pushing pasta and tomato sauce around his plate with an inch thick slice of garlic bread. “How’s life on the Hill these days?”

[Kesia Alfonse]

The man from across the room made the effort to grab all his food and move it with him to a seat next to Kesia. With the condition she was in right now, she never expected anyone would be trying to converse with her. "This guy must be really starved for attention if he's willing to ignore the fact that I'm filthy." she thought.

She didn't turn to face him, and let him sit beside her in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“So...how’s life on the Hill these days?”

At this point she slowly turned her head to face him, and put on a quizical look. I'm not wearing any pieces of my uniform am I?
She didn't bother to check, instead she asked. "How'd would you know if I came from the Hill or not?"

She swiveled her stool around to face him full on and awaited his answer, never taking her eyes off of him.
She didn't trust people easily, especially people who appeared to be mind readers, or possibly stalkers. And she learned early on from living on the street to never look away from a person you don't believe you can trust. You have to have an eye on them at all times. That's just what she did with this man now.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-23 19:32 ]

[Nomad Soul]

The man from across the room made the effort to grab all his food and move it with him to a seat next to Kesia. With the condition she was in right now, she never expected anyone would be trying to converse with her. "This guy must be really starved for attention if he's willing to ignore the fact that I'm filthy." she thought.

She didn't turn to face him, and let him sit beside her in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“So...how’s life on the Hill these days?”

At this point she slowly turned her head to face him, and put on a quizical look. I'm not wearing any pieces of my uniform am I?
She didn't bother to check, instead she asked. "How'd would you know if I came from the Hill or not?"

She swiveled her stool around to face him full on and awaited his answer, never taking her eyes off of him.
She didn't trust people easily, especially people who appeared to be mind readers, or possibly stalkers. And she learned early on from living on the street to never look away from a person you don't believe you can trust. You have to have an eye on them at all times. That's just what she did with this man now.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-23 19:32 ]

[Tommy Moreno]

"How'd would you know if I came from the Hill or not?"

The corners of his lips twisted up into a wry grin and he met her gaze head-on. It was obvious he was amused at her reaction but wasn’t breaking into a full laugh quite yet. “I can tell by the way you walked from the door to this stool . . . every step was equally spaced. Like someone used to doing a lot of marching.” He shrugs and pushes some more food on his plate. “Only place I know around here that’s keen on marching is the drill field on Beginhill-15.” Still smirking, he shovels some pasta into his mouth and reaches his arm back over his head. With a single knuckle he taps against the glass of one of the many pictures . . . this one displayed him wearing a formal policeman’s uniform and accepting a trinket during ceremony. His knuckle had strategically tapped against a golden plate inscribed with Detective Thomas Moreno. Emphasis on the word “Detective”.

“Don’t worry – that’ll wear off in a month or two,” he adds and wipes his face clean with a napkin before Connie appears with a bowl of spaghetti and bread for Kesia. Pushing his deductive reasoning a little further he adds, “I just hope you handle a valk better than you do a motorcycle.”

[Halo]

"How'd would you know if I came from the Hill or not?"

The corners of his lips twisted up into a wry grin and he met her gaze head-on. It was obvious he was amused at her reaction but wasn’t breaking into a full laugh quite yet. “I can tell by the way you walked from the door to this stool . . . every step was equally spaced. Like someone used to doing a lot of marching.” He shrugs and pushes some more food on his plate. “Only place I know around here that’s keen on marching is the drill field on Beginhill-15.” Still smirking, he shovels some pasta into his mouth and reaches his arm back over his head. With a single knuckle he taps against the glass of one of the many pictures . . . this one displayed him wearing a formal policeman’s uniform and accepting a trinket during ceremony. His knuckle had strategically tapped against a golden plate inscribed with Detective Thomas Moreno. Emphasis on the word “Detective”.

“Don’t worry – that’ll wear off in a month or two,” he adds and wipes his face clean with a napkin before Connie appears with a bowl of spaghetti and bread for Kesia. Pushing his deductive reasoning a little further he adds, “I just hope you handle a valk better than you do a motorcycle.”

[Kesia Alfonse]

Kesia watched the man grin at her confusion, she hated when people were smug about themselves like that. It wasn’t a very appealing quality.

I can tell by the way you walked from the door to this stool . . . every step was equally spaced. Like someone used to doing a lot of marching. Only place I know around here that’s keen on marching is the drill field on Beginhill-15.

“Hmph, so I’m that obvious am I? “ she asked.
The man proceeded to tap a picture on the wall, which depicted him as a policeman, a Detective to be exact.

Kesia shot him back a smirk of her own. “Well Detective Moreno, your powers of deduction are astounding, do you want another medal?” She asked sarcastically raising a inquisitive eyebrow at him.

She turned away from him again now as her meal had arrived. “Thanks.” she said to Connie. It smelled really good and she didn’t want to waste time so grabbing her fork, she shoved a huge mouthful into her face. Too engorged in eating at the moment she forgot about Thomas. That is until she heard the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“I just hope you handle a valk better than you do a motorcycle.”

Kesia, stopped mid chew as her eyes narrowed. He had better be joking, she thought, a little flustered at his comment. She quickly finished her mouthful of spaghetti and turned to face him again.
“I assure you I do just fine Detective. And what would you know about Valks and Bikes anyways?” she inquired, raising her voice a bit.

She stared at him intently with fire in her eyes for a few fleeting moments before her face turned soft again. Damn it..I’m being a bitch again. I have to keep my temper under control. Maybe he doesn’t mean any harm. she thought.
Ever since coming back into society from living the life of a street thug, she had had a hard time letting her protective walls down. And a lot of times she came off as a cold hard bitch. She didn’t like that. She wanted people to like her, but it was hard to change old habits.

She turned away from him and went back to her meal.
“I’m sorry.” She said under her breath.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-24 11:53 ]

[Nomad Soul]

Kesia watched the man grin at her confusion, she hated when people were smug about themselves like that. It wasn’t a very appealing quality.

I can tell by the way you walked from the door to this stool . . . every step was equally spaced. Like someone used to doing a lot of marching. Only place I know around here that’s keen on marching is the drill field on Beginhill-15.

“Hmph, so I’m that obvious am I? “ she asked.
The man proceeded to tap a picture on the wall, which depicted him as a policeman, a Detective to be exact.

Kesia shot him back a smirk of her own. “Well Detective Moreno, your powers of deduction are astounding, do you want another medal?” She asked sarcastically raising a inquisitive eyebrow at him.

She turned away from him again now as her meal had arrived. “Thanks.” she said to Connie. It smelled really good and she didn’t want to waste time so grabbing her fork, she shoved a huge mouthful into her face. Too engorged in eating at the moment she forgot about Thomas. That is until she heard the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“I just hope you handle a valk better than you do a motorcycle.”

Kesia, stopped mid chew as her eyes narrowed. He had better be joking, she thought, a little flustered at his comment. She quickly finished her mouthful of spaghetti and turned to face him again.
“I assure you I do just fine Detective. And what would you know about Valks and Bikes anyways?” she inquired, raising her voice a bit.

She stared at him intently with fire in her eyes for a few fleeting moments before her face turned soft again. Damn it..I’m being a bitch again. I have to keep my temper under control. Maybe he doesn’t mean any harm. she thought.
Ever since coming back into society from living the life of a street thug, she had had a hard time letting her protective walls down. And a lot of times she came off as a cold hard bitch. She didn’t like that. She wanted people to like her, but it was hard to change old habits.

She turned away from him and went back to her meal.
“I’m sorry.” She said under her breath.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-24 11:53 ]

[Tommy Moreno]

“I assure you I do just fine Detective. And what would you know about Valks and Bikes anyways?”

He grinned at her, thoroughly enjoying their verbal back-and-forth, and fired back with, “Well, I know that neither work too well when their driver is face-down in garbage.” He smirked at Kesia – not a “holier than thou” expression, but rather one of good-natured teasing.

“I’m sorry.” She said under her breath.

Tommy shook his head a bit and shuffled some food around his plate. “Nah, you’re alright. That hair may not be from around here, but that ‘tude is definitely out of this neighborhood.” And that was quite possibly the greatest compliment he was capable of.

Tommy takes a few more bites before asking, “So . . . you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to dust for finger prints?”

[Halo]

“I assure you I do just fine Detective. And what would you know about Valks and Bikes anyways?”

He grinned at her, thoroughly enjoying their verbal back-and-forth, and fired back with, “Well, I know that neither work too well when their driver is face-down in garbage.” He smirked at Kesia – not a “holier than thou” expression, but rather one of good-natured teasing.

“I’m sorry.” She said under her breath.

Tommy shook his head a bit and shuffled some food around his plate. “Nah, you’re alright. That hair may not be from around here, but that ‘tude is definitely out of this neighborhood.” And that was quite possibly the greatest compliment he was capable of.

Tommy takes a few more bites before asking, “So . . . you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to dust for finger prints?”

[Kesia Alfonse]

Well, I know that neither work too well when their driver is face-down in garbage.

Kesia could tell now that he wasn't intending to be mean, which made her feel even worse for losing her temper. She smiled slightly at his comment and gave a small laugh.
Yeah I guess he's right about that. I can see how it must be pretty funny from his perspective. she admitted to herself.

Nah, you’re alright. That hair may not be from around here, but that ‘tude is definitely out of this neighborhood. So . . . you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to dust for finger prints?

She managed a small smile and turned back around to face him.
"My name is Kesia. Kesia Alfonse." she extended her hand politely. "It's nice to meet you detective."

"So you must be a regular here eh? Seeing as your picture is on the wall, and you seem to know the owner." she asked, returning his interest.
She then inquired, with a smirk of her own. "You uhhh..on a case tonight? Or are you just slacking?"

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-24 21:07 ]

[Nomad Soul]

Well, I know that neither work too well when their driver is face-down in garbage.

Kesia could tell now that he wasn't intending to be mean, which made her feel even worse for losing her temper. She smiled slightly at his comment and gave a small laugh.
Yeah I guess he's right about that. I can see how it must be pretty funny from his perspective. she admitted to herself.

Nah, you’re alright. That hair may not be from around here, but that ‘tude is definitely out of this neighborhood. So . . . you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to dust for finger prints?

She managed a small smile and turned back around to face him.
"My name is Kesia. Kesia Alfonse." she extended her hand politely. "It's nice to meet you detective."

"So you must be a regular here eh? Seeing as your picture is on the wall, and you seem to know the owner." she asked, returning his interest.
She then inquired, with a smirk of her own. "You uhhh..on a case tonight? Or are you just slacking?"

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-08-24 21:07 ]

[Tommy Moreno]

"My name is Kesia. Kesia Alfonse. It's nice to meet you detective."

“You too,” Tommy said smiling as he shook her hand.

"So you must be a regular here eh? Seeing as your picture is on the wall, and you seem to know the owner. . . . You uhhh..on a case tonight? Or are you just slacking?"

“Oooh . . .” Tommy tried a faux wince but his grin was just too wide to pull it off. “Actually, yeah – I am on a case of sorts.” He looked back at her, his expression carrying a new weight as if he was evaluating the lieutenant. He pushes his mostly cleaned plate away from him and propped an elbow on the counter, shifting his posture as if to say Okay, enough “happy chat” – let’s get to business.

He lowered his voice so only Kesia could hear and continued. “How would you like to make back the money needed to fix your bike and have a helluva good time while you’re at it?”

[Halo]

"My name is Kesia. Kesia Alfonse. It's nice to meet you detective."

“You too,” Tommy said smiling as he shook her hand.

"So you must be a regular here eh? Seeing as your picture is on the wall, and you seem to know the owner. . . . You uhhh..on a case tonight? Or are you just slacking?"

“Oooh . . .” Tommy tried a faux wince but his grin was just too wide to pull it off. “Actually, yeah – I am on a case of sorts.” He looked back at her, his expression carrying a new weight as if he was evaluating the lieutenant. He pushes his mostly cleaned plate away from him and propped an elbow on the counter, shifting his posture as if to say Okay, enough “happy chat” – let’s get to business.

He lowered his voice so only Kesia could hear and continued. “How would you like to make back the money needed to fix your bike and have a helluva good time while you’re at it?”

[Kesia Alfonse]

“Oooh . . .” Tommy tried a faux wince but his grin was just too wide to pull it off.

Kesia laughed aloud at his mock pain. Feeling a bit more comfortable around Tommy. Well, he can take a joke better than I can that's for sure.

“Actually, yeah – I am on a case of sorts.”

She hadn't expected him to say that, that he was actually on a case. She figured he must have been off duty, she was wrong it turned out.

“How would you like to make back the money needed to fix your bike and have a helluva good time while you’re at it?”

This perked her curiosity, she sat up straight at attention, her body giving the impression that she was very interested.

"Really?" she asked. "And what kind of a good time are we talking about hmmmm?"
She smiled as her eyes lit up at the prospect of adventure.

[Nomad Soul]

“Oooh . . .” Tommy tried a faux wince but his grin was just too wide to pull it off.

Kesia laughed aloud at his mock pain. Feeling a bit more comfortable around Tommy. Well, he can take a joke better than I can that's for sure.

“Actually, yeah – I am on a case of sorts.”

She hadn't expected him to say that, that he was actually on a case. She figured he must have been off duty, she was wrong it turned out.

“How would you like to make back the money needed to fix your bike and have a helluva good time while you’re at it?”

This perked her curiosity, she sat up straight at attention, her body giving the impression that she was very interested.

"Really?" she asked. "And what kind of a good time are we talking about hmmmm?"
She smiled as her eyes lit up at the prospect of adventure.

[Halo]

"Really? And what kind of a good time are we talking about hmmmm?"

Tommy smiled and leaned in a little closer. “You ever hear of the Corsa di Tuono?” he asked and paused to judge her expression. “It’s an underground race that runs around the city, different courses and different times of year. It’s kind of a mix between your typical motorcycle street dragsters and a low scale Cannonball Run. One of the Corsa’s heavies is this hotshot Wall Street guy named Carlos Maza.”

Tommy takes a quick swig of his soda before continuing. “We know Maza’s got his greedy hands in a lot of pies. What we don’t know is if they’re Apple or Lemon Meringue . . . more important, we don’t know where his bakery is . . . which is where you come in. The guy’s sly and fairly paranoid, never lets anyone other than his boys close to him. Except when he’s racing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small package, no larger than a ring’s jewelry box, and pops the lid open. Inside is a small transmitter of some kind. “Let me bottom-line it for you. The Corsa’s running tonight and I’ve been working for weeks to get a partner of mine in the race. She tore a muscle working out and I don’t much feel like letting this opportunity slip by. So . . . how about you take her place? You get in the race, and slip this lil guy on Maza for me.” He nods down to the tiny bug in the jewelry box. “If you can pull that off I’ll cover the cost to fix your bike up. Hell, if you place in this thing you can keep the cash.”

Tommy sits back grinning a bit and folding his arms. “You want to prove you can drive one of those things without ending up in the trash, right?”

[Kesia Alfonse]

“You ever hear of the Corsa di Tuono?”

Kesia raised an eyebrow and leaned a bit closer as well, still not breaking her eye contact with the stranger.
“No I can’t say I have.” She said to Tommy.

“It’s an underground race that runs around the city….”

Her eyes lit up as soon the word race was uttered. It had been a while since she was part of a good ol’ fashioned street race but it was one of her favorite past times back before the beginhill.
She had won her fair share of cash at races like those. It was one of her means of supporting herself. Not exactly legal, but then again neither was anything else she did in those days.

She began to wonder just what the Detective was getting at. She got herself more comfortable, crossing her legs in a very masculine way and let him explain further.

“The guy’s sly and fairly paranoid, never lets anyone other than his boys close to him. Except when he’s racing.”

Kesia knew the type. Guys like that weren’t stupid. Otherwise they wouldn’t last a day with connections to the underground scene. Still she had a lot of knowledge on how to deal with that kind of man and knew the way to their hearts was money. Money and women.

She watched as Tommy reached for something from his pocket. He pulled out a box that held what looked like a small transmitter.
Getting confused now Kesia was about to demand to know what he was going on about when he finally did spill his guts.

“So . . . how about you take her place? You get in the race, and slip this lil guy on Maza for me. If you can pull that off I’ll cover the cost to fix your bike up. Hell, if you place in this thing you can keep the cash.”

Kesia tapped her finger on the countertop in nervous thought. That’s quite a deal. she thought. It’ll get me out of a lot of trouble with the insurance companies if I can afford to pay them. But I don’t want to start getting a rep as a rat. Street gangs don’t like rats.

“You want to prove you can drive one of those things without ending up in the trash, right?”

She frowned at him and pointed a stern finger.
“Hey! What’d I tell you already? I can handle myself. Don’t you worry about that!” she yelled at him before looking around the room and ducking her head, shying away the attention she had just brought upon herself.

She grew silent and remained in thought for a few moments more, turning back to her meal and not saying anything else to him.
After a while she sighed heavily and turned her head back to face him.

“Forgive me if I don’t seem trusting enough Detective, but can I see your badge?” she inquired. “ I don’t trust easily. And I’m not about to start getting taken for a fool now.”
She took a sip of her water and then added, “ If you are who you say you are….I’ll help you.”

[Nomad Soul]

“You ever hear of the Corsa di Tuono?”

Kesia raised an eyebrow and leaned a bit closer as well, still not breaking her eye contact with the stranger.
“No I can’t say I have.” She said to Tommy.

“It’s an underground race that runs around the city….”

Her eyes lit up as soon the word race was uttered. It had been a while since she was part of a good ol’ fashioned street race but it was one of her favorite past times back before the beginhill.
She had won her fair share of cash at races like those. It was one of her means of supporting herself. Not exactly legal, but then again neither was anything else she did in those days.

She began to wonder just what the Detective was getting at. She got herself more comfortable, crossing her legs in a very masculine way and let him explain further.

“The guy’s sly and fairly paranoid, never lets anyone other than his boys close to him. Except when he’s racing.”

Kesia knew the type. Guys like that weren’t stupid. Otherwise they wouldn’t last a day with connections to the underground scene. Still she had a lot of knowledge on how to deal with that kind of man and knew the way to their hearts was money. Money and women.

She watched as Tommy reached for something from his pocket. He pulled out a box that held what looked like a small transmitter.
Getting confused now Kesia was about to demand to know what he was going on about when he finally did spill his guts.

“So . . . how about you take her place? You get in the race, and slip this lil guy on Maza for me. If you can pull that off I’ll cover the cost to fix your bike up. Hell, if you place in this thing you can keep the cash.”

Kesia tapped her finger on the countertop in nervous thought. That’s quite a deal. she thought. It’ll get me out of a lot of trouble with the insurance companies if I can afford to pay them. But I don’t want to start getting a rep as a rat. Street gangs don’t like rats.

“You want to prove you can drive one of those things without ending up in the trash, right?”

She frowned at him and pointed a stern finger.
“Hey! What’d I tell you already? I can handle myself. Don’t you worry about that!” she yelled at him before looking around the room and ducking her head, shying away the attention she had just brought upon herself.

She grew silent and remained in thought for a few moments more, turning back to her meal and not saying anything else to him.
After a while she sighed heavily and turned her head back to face him.

“Forgive me if I don’t seem trusting enough Detective, but can I see your badge?” she inquired. “ I don’t trust easily. And I’m not about to start getting taken for a fool now.”
She took a sip of her water and then added, “ If you are who you say you are….I’ll help you.”

[Tommy Moreno]

“Hey! What’d I tell you already? I can handle myself. Don’t you worry about that!”

Tommy chuckled to himself and nodded his head in agreement. “You got fire,” he says and reaches over the counter to fetch a pitcher and refill his drink. “That’s good . . . I like that. But you better keep it in check – these guys find out how easy it is to rattle you, they’ll put you in a wall without blinking an eye.”

“Forgive me if I don’t seem trusting enough Detective, but can I see your badge? I don’t trust easily. And I’m not about to start getting taken for a fool now . . . If you are who you say you are….I’ll help you.”

“Fair enough,” the detective comments and slips a hand into his jeans to retrieve a leather holder. He flips it open and lays it on the counter displaying his City-15 PD shield and photo ID. After she has opportunity to examine his credentials, he flips the case close and returns it to his pocket.

“Let’s be clear on something before we get rolling,” he says and tosses enough green bills on the counter to cover both their meals and a tip for Connie. “What we do tonight won’t exactly be sanctioned by the department.” He eyed her seriously to make sure she got the weight of this. “If something goes wrong, there won’t be any flashing lights or boys in blue jumping out to save the day. It’s just you and me in on this.” He pauses to toss back the last of his soda and let that news rest for a moment. “However, this also means I don’t need you fill out a bunch of Qualified Informant paperwork . . . and somehow I don’t think you’d want that kind of paper trail lingering behind anyway.”

“My partner’s bike is around back,” he says as he slips off the stool and holds out a key for Kesia. “If you’re in, let’s go - - you take her bike, and I’ll ride yours.”

[Halo]

“Hey! What’d I tell you already? I can handle myself. Don’t you worry about that!”

Tommy chuckled to himself and nodded his head in agreement. “You got fire,” he says and reaches over the counter to fetch a pitcher and refill his drink. “That’s good . . . I like that. But you better keep it in check – these guys find out how easy it is to rattle you, they’ll put you in a wall without blinking an eye.”

“Forgive me if I don’t seem trusting enough Detective, but can I see your badge? I don’t trust easily. And I’m not about to start getting taken for a fool now . . . If you are who you say you are….I’ll help you.”

“Fair enough,” the detective comments and slips a hand into his jeans to retrieve a leather holder. He flips it open and lays it on the counter displaying his City-15 PD shield and photo ID. After she has opportunity to examine his credentials, he flips the case close and returns it to his pocket.

“Let’s be clear on something before we get rolling,” he says and tosses enough green bills on the counter to cover both their meals and a tip for Connie. “What we do tonight won’t exactly be sanctioned by the department.” He eyed her seriously to make sure she got the weight of this. “If something goes wrong, there won’t be any flashing lights or boys in blue jumping out to save the day. It’s just you and me in on this.” He pauses to toss back the last of his soda and let that news rest for a moment. “However, this also means I don’t need you fill out a bunch of Qualified Informant paperwork . . . and somehow I don’t think you’d want that kind of paper trail lingering behind anyway.”

“My partner’s bike is around back,” he says as he slips off the stool and holds out a key for Kesia. “If you’re in, let’s go - - you take her bike, and I’ll ride yours.”

[Kesia Alfonse]

“You got fire. That’s good . . . I like that. But you better keep it in check – these guys find out how easy it is to rattle you, they’ll put you in a wall without blinking an eye.”

She felt like making another remark in retort but decided against it. You could only push your luck so far with a cop after all.
She knew what he said was true, but she'd managed so far on her own. In fact her "fire" had gotten her out of a few tight spots just because of the fact that she could be pretty intimidating.

He showed Kesia his badge and she made sure to give it a good look over. Satisfied, she let him take it back. This by no means meant she trusted the guy, but it was good enough for her to play along for now.

“What we do tonight won’t exactly be sanctioned by the department....”

"Yeah I know, but I'm not one to shy away from a little danger." she stated with a smirk.

After quickly finishing off the rest of her meal, she hopped off her stool so she could fit her fingers in the pocket of her snug leather pants. Fishing around a bit she grabbed a wad of bills and slapped it on the counter as an extra tip for Connie. "Thanks for the food." she said.

"Alright Detective, lead the way." she told him, waving her hand towards the exit and stepping aside for him to pass.

This is turning out to be an interesting evening..let's hope I survive till tommorrow. Wouldn't want to show up to the first day of my new assignment dead. she thought.

[ This Message was edited by: Nomad Soul on 2005-01-07 12:46 ]

[Nomad Soul]

“You got fire. That’s good . . . I like that. But you better keep it in check – these guys find out how easy it is to rattle you, they’ll put you in a wall without blinking an eye.”

She felt like making another remark in retort but decided against it. You could only push your luck so far with a cop after all.
She knew what he said was true, but she'd managed so far on her own. In fact her "fire" had gotten her out of a few tight spots just because of the fact that she could be pretty intimidating.

He showed Kesia his badge and she made sure to give it a good look over. Satisfied, she let him take it back. This by no means meant she trusted the guy, but it was good enough for her to play along for now.

“What we do tonight won’t exactly be sanctioned by the department....”

"Yeah I know, but I'm not one to shy away from a little danger." she stated with a smirk.

After quickly finishing off the rest of her meal, she hopped off her stool so she could fit her fingers in the pocket of her snug leather pants. Fishing around a bit she grabbed a wad of bills and slapped it on the counter as an extra tip for Connie. "Thanks for the food." she said.

"Alright Detective, lead the way." she told him, waving her hand towards the exit and stepping aside for him to pass.

This is turning out to be an interesting evening..let's hope I survive till tommorrow. Wouldn't want to show up to the first day of my new assignment dead. she thought.

[ This Message was edited by: Nomad Soul on 2005-01-07 12:46 ]

[Tommy Moreno]

Tommy led her around the building to a wooden fenced-off area behind the restaurant. He unlocked a heavy chain padlock securing a shed and pulled the doors open. Inside was a shining red and black 2049 Mamba-550XT racing bike – Vensari Industries finest. “Say hello to Clementine,” he says as he rolls the bike out for Kesia to examine. “She’s my partner’s pride and joy. Some gals get married and raise babies, but not her . . . she has Clem.”

Tommy Steps behind Kes as to not obstruct her examination. “She’s a helluva crotch-rocket, but her mamma’s tweaked her out for street racing. New brakes, wheels, transmission . . . she was built for balls out Moto Grand Prix, but my partner’s mellowed Clem a bit. Most of the bikes you’ll be seeing tonight were purchased street legal and beefed up, but not this baby. Clem was a thoroughbred we had to break and tame.” There was obvious affection in the detective’s voice. “Hell, I’d ride her tonight if they weren’t expecting a woman.”

He pushes the bike out into the alleyway next to the restaurant and exchanges keys with Kesia. He throws a leg over her rent-a-bike and fires the engine. “Alright . . . follow me.”

<Will continue after work. Feel free to interject something if you like, if not I’ll just be fast-forwarding to the race.>

[Halo]

Tommy led her around the building to a wooden fenced-off area behind the restaurant. He unlocked a heavy chain padlock securing a shed and pulled the doors open. Inside was a shining red and black 2049 Mamba-550XT racing bike – Vensari Industries finest. “Say hello to Clementine,” he says as he rolls the bike out for Kesia to examine. “She’s my partner’s pride and joy. Some gals get married and raise babies, but not her . . . she has Clem.”

Tommy Steps behind Kes as to not obstruct her examination. “She’s a helluva crotch-rocket, but her mamma’s tweaked her out for street racing. New brakes, wheels, transmission . . . she was built for balls out Moto Grand Prix, but my partner’s mellowed Clem a bit. Most of the bikes you’ll be seeing tonight were purchased street legal and beefed up, but not this baby. Clem was a thoroughbred we had to break and tame.” There was obvious affection in the detective’s voice. “Hell, I’d ride her tonight if they weren’t expecting a woman.”

He pushes the bike out into the alleyway next to the restaurant and exchanges keys with Kesia. He throws a leg over her rent-a-bike and fires the engine. “Alright . . . follow me.”

<Will continue after work. Feel free to interject something if you like, if not I’ll just be fast-forwarding to the race.>

[Kesia Alfonse]

“Say hello to Clementine, she’s my partner’s pride and joy. Some gals get

She looked it over thoroughly. Her eyes scanned every square inch and her hands lightly ran over the seat, wheels and throttle.
"Pretty damn nice, I must admit. But the name is just a tad bit on the ridiculous side if you're planning to ride with street thugs." she said with a small laugh.
"I woulda named it Kill razor or something else tough like that." she stated. Her eyes moved over the whole bike excitedly, like a child with a new toy. This is gonna be great.

She could sense from Tommy that he was pretty attached to this thing and his partner. Feeling the need to reassure him she gave him a punch on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

Alright . . . follow me.

"Right." she called after him. Kesia put her helmet back on and flipped down the visor, obscuring her face once more. She started up the engine and peeled out after him.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-07 13:27 ]

[Nomad Soul]

“Say hello to Clementine, she’s my partner’s pride and joy. Some gals get

She looked it over thoroughly. Her eyes scanned every square inch and her hands lightly ran over the seat, wheels and throttle.
"Pretty damn nice, I must admit. But the name is just a tad bit on the ridiculous side if you're planning to ride with street thugs." she said with a small laugh.
"I woulda named it Kill razor or something else tough like that." she stated. Her eyes moved over the whole bike excitedly, like a child with a new toy. This is gonna be great.

She could sense from Tommy that he was pretty attached to this thing and his partner. Feeling the need to reassure him she gave him a punch on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

Alright . . . follow me.

"Right." she called after him. Kesia put her helmet back on and flipped down the visor, obscuring her face once more. She started up the engine and peeled out after him.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-07 13:27 ]

[Halo]

Tommy lead Kesia on a winding course through the less savory sections of City-15. Although one may think an artificial city built in space would be immune to civic decay, unfortunately it wasn’t. You put that many people together in one tightly confined space and a caste system was unavoidable. The fortunate would find a way to claim money, and the less fortunate would find ways to lose it. Thus had been the way of cities since time forgotten, and the crumbling brickfaces they passed littered with trash and painted gang symbols served as harsh reminders that every city had a ghetto.

Tommy rounds a corner and pulls up to the closed gate of a garage. After knocking his fist against it twice, the gate raises and a flood of brightly flashing neon lights and thumping party music floods into the street. Tommy pushes his bike through, followed by Kes before the gate drops shut behind them.

The garage was cavernous and filled with bodies congregating around a central area. SUVs and jacked-up road hogs formed a wide outer circle with a bizarre “who’s who” of the city’s most affluent citizens. From tight buttoned stock brokers to pimps and drug lords, the only commonality between the groups seemed to be nothing more than greed . . . and an interest in illegal motor sports.

Tommy pushed his bike through the crowd, cutting a path through the sea of people – past scantily clad ladies pushing all manner of party favors, and a bookie very happily accepting bets from anyone who’d flash a wad of bills in his direction. By the time Kesia rolls into the center of the circle and among all the other racing bikes, she easily spots the man from the detective’s photo – Petros Maza.

Maza had his bike slotted in the closest thing to a pole position in this underground lineup, and stood next to it jawing it up with a number of his boys. He virtually oozed with rich-boy ego but looked to be more tolerating than enjoying or encouraging the praise from “yes men” gathered around him or the cooing and waving girls held behind them.

When she glances back to Tommy, she sees him jawing with a foul, epic-sized latino man sporting a bald head, brightly colored tattoos and enough gold chains around his neck to choke a rhino. (ooc: I have no idea what that means, but suffice to say this man has a lot of accessorizing goin’ on). The large man is obviously giving Tommy no end of verbal abuse for bringing a wrecked, two-wheeled shit spinner under his roof, but like all other verbal abuse, the detective brushes it off with his goodfella smirk and fires back with a few jabs of his own. The two laugh and the giant almost smothers the poor cop by throwing his heavy arm over his shoulder as the two walk over to her.

“Muerte, say hi to my girl,” Tommy says in introductions and turns to face Kesia. “She rides under the handle Razor,” he says with a hint of humor that glided right past the heavy man’s ears. “And, of course, you already know Clementine.” Again, stressing the word for Kesia’s benefit alone.

“Yeah, yeah – I seen yo bike before, Homes. She’s a sexy ride,” Muerte says in a thick spanglish accent. “But I’m more interested in yo other bitch . . . let’s get a look at ya, baby,” the colossal man flashes a disgusting gold toothed grin and harshly pushes Kesia’s visor back across the top of her helmet, causing her head to snap back and revealing her glaring face to him unobstructed. “Oh shit, Homes!” he exclaims with a loud, remarkably high pitched laugh. “Ya never told me ya had tha jungle fever!” Muerte just continued laughing to himself, thoroughly enjoying the thought of Tommy hooking up with a sista. “So, what’s da story, chica? You playin’ my boy here, or do ya just like a little cream in yo coffee?” Whereas Tommy’s trademark smirk was playful and "wise-guy" charming, this gigantic ass’s was just plain foul.

[ This Message was edited by: Halo on 2004-09-08 07:45 ]

[Kesia Alfonse]

As they rode through the underbelly of city 15 Kesia noticed just how big this ghetto was. It seemed to her like the lower class citizens of city 15 could form a small city all on their own. She wondered just how many runaways like her self dwelled on these streets, living off garbage, stealing from stores, cars and people. Or maybe even selling their bodies, something she thankfully never had to stoop to.

This new bike was working like a dream. The handling was responsive, the engine was fast and the brakes were top notch. This was definitely a bike she wouldn’t think twice about stealing had she not gone straight.

Together Kes and Tommy pulled in to a seemingly locked up garage. The Detective knocked twice and the door opened, shedding a bright light at Kes. She wasn't blinded thanks to her visor so she could clearly make out all sorts of riff raff stinking up the joint.
I never thought I'd be back hanging around these type of people again.
She felt a bit out of place strangely enough. The fact that she was here and on the right side of law instead of running from it with everyone else was not lost on her. Her life had changed in many ways in the last few years. For the better she hoped.

Following the detective in she took a look at each racing vehicle as they passed. Very nice stuff, these guys must have a lot of money. I guess pimps and drug lords can do pretty good on the city 15. she marveled.

She noticed the man from the picture, Maza she thought his name was, alongside his ride. Kesia wasn't intimidated by the man himself, but by the fact that she somehow had to get a bug on this guy. It didn't look like playing the sex appeal card was going to work either judging by the way he ignored the ladies behind him. She had to figure another way to get close.

Tommy seemed to be arguing with an extremely large man. But after a moment it was apparent that it was only friendly banter. Thank god, I wouldn't want to have to bail him out and take a guy that size on.

“Muerte, say hi to my girl, She rides under the handle Razor. And, of course, you already know Clementine.”

She smiled at the inside joke, her lips concealed by the helmet. Kes was starting to get accustomed to Tommy's wit. She admitted a trait like that would probably be the only reason he could sweet talk his way in with this crowd. She was lucky he was here to do the talking, because she wasn't so good at staying cool under pressure. And that pressure came an instant later.

“Yeah, yeah – I seen yo bike before, Holmes. She’s a sexy ride, But I’m more interested in yo other bitch . . . let’s get a look at ya, baby,” He said as he roughly lifted her visor up to get a look at her. The man's strength snapped her head back sharply, catching her unaware.

“Bitch”. She'd been called that word before, hell she called herself that damn near everyday, but it wasn't everyday someone laid a hand on her like Muertes just did.
Kes could feel her blood boiling. A familiar feeling, but she feared this time she wouldn't be able to hold at bay a backlash towards the man.

She gritted her teeth, an unpleasant sound she could audibly hear inside her helmet. Her fists clenched tightly and she stared the man down angrily. That familiar fire welled up in her eyes while he turned back to Tommy to make a remark.

“Oh shit, Holmes! Ya never told me ya had tha jungle fever!”
“So, what’s da story, chica? You playin’ my boy here, or do ya just like a little cream in yo coffee?”

That tears it! No one talks to me like that! No one! she steamed, albeit in her own mind.

Seconds from giving the man a swift kick in the throat she remembered Tommy suddenly and hesitated. Shit! I can't do this I'll blow his cover. It's one thing to get myself killed by these guys but I don't want to take anyone with me.

With a will power unlike any she had guessed that she could possess, Kesia was able to push back her feelings of aggression. Her glare slowly softened into a sly smirk of her own.

She tapped Muertes' chest with the back of her fingers lightly and spoke in as friendly a tone as she could muster at that moment.
"Hell no, I’m a free spirit boy. I ain’t got no man to tie me down. He may think I stick around for his scrawny white ass but this chick’s just here to race, so where can I get to it?”

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-08 20:53 ]

[Nomad Soul]

As they rode through the underbelly of city 15 Kesia noticed just how big this ghetto was. It seemed to her like the lower class citizens of city 15 could form a small city all on their own. She wondered just how many runaways like her self dwelled on these streets, living off garbage, stealing from stores, cars and people. Or maybe even selling their bodies, something she thankfully never had to stoop to.

This new bike was working like a dream. The handling was responsive, the engine was fast and the brakes were top notch. This was definitely a bike she wouldn’t think twice about stealing had she not gone straight.

Together Kes and Tommy pulled in to a seemingly locked up garage. The Detective knocked twice and the door opened, shedding a bright light at Kes. She wasn't blinded thanks to her visor so she could clearly make out all sorts of riff raff stinking up the joint.
I never thought I'd be back hanging around these type of people again.
She felt a bit out of place strangely enough. The fact that she was here and on the right side of law instead of running from it with everyone else was not lost on her. Her life had changed in many ways in the last few years. For the better she hoped.

Following the detective in she took a look at each racing vehicle as they passed. Very nice stuff, these guys must have a lot of money. I guess pimps and drug lords can do pretty good on the city 15. she marveled.

She noticed the man from the picture, Maza she thought his name was, alongside his ride. Kesia wasn't intimidated by the man himself, but by the fact that she somehow had to get a bug on this guy. It didn't look like playing the sex appeal card was going to work either judging by the way he ignored the ladies behind him. She had to figure another way to get close.

Tommy seemed to be arguing with an extremely large man. But after a moment it was apparent that it was only friendly banter. Thank god, I wouldn't want to have to bail him out and take a guy that size on.

“Muerte, say hi to my girl, She rides under the handle Razor. And, of course, you already know Clementine.”

She smiled at the inside joke, her lips concealed by the helmet. Kes was starting to get accustomed to Tommy's wit. She admitted a trait like that would probably be the only reason he could sweet talk his way in with this crowd. She was lucky he was here to do the talking, because she wasn't so good at staying cool under pressure. And that pressure came an instant later.

“Yeah, yeah – I seen yo bike before, Holmes. She’s a sexy ride, But I’m more interested in yo other bitch . . . let’s get a look at ya, baby,” He said as he roughly lifted her visor up to get a look at her. The man's strength snapped her head back sharply, catching her unaware.

“Bitch”. She'd been called that word before, hell she called herself that damn near everyday, but it wasn't everyday someone laid a hand on her like Muertes just did.
Kes could feel her blood boiling. A familiar feeling, but she feared this time she wouldn't be able to hold at bay a backlash towards the man.

She gritted her teeth, an unpleasant sound she could audibly hear inside her helmet. Her fists clenched tightly and she stared the man down angrily. That familiar fire welled up in her eyes while he turned back to Tommy to make a remark.

“Oh shit, Holmes! Ya never told me ya had tha jungle fever!”
“So, what’s da story, chica? You playin’ my boy here, or do ya just like a little cream in yo coffee?”

That tears it! No one talks to me like that! No one! she steamed, albeit in her own mind.

Seconds from giving the man a swift kick in the throat she remembered Tommy suddenly and hesitated. Shit! I can't do this I'll blow his cover. It's one thing to get myself killed by these guys but I don't want to take anyone with me.

With a will power unlike any she had guessed that she could possess, Kesia was able to push back her feelings of aggression. Her glare slowly softened into a sly smirk of her own.

She tapped Muertes' chest with the back of her fingers lightly and spoke in as friendly a tone as she could muster at that moment.
"Hell no, I’m a free spirit boy. I ain’t got no man to tie me down. He may think I stick around for his scrawny white ass but this chick’s just here to race, so where can I get to it?”

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-08 20:53 ]

[Halo]

"Hell no, I’m a free spirit boy. I ain’t got no man to tie me down. He may think I stick around for his scrawny white ass but this chick’s just here to race, so where can I get to it?”

“SCRAWNY?!?!?” Tommy cried defensively but was quickly silenced by a heavy slap to his back courtesy of the giant cackling Latino named “Death”.

“I like you, chica,” Muertes forced out between his heavy chuckling. “Okay, you’re in da Corsa. But you line up in last row . . . bitches in back, ya know . . .”

Tommy quickly locked eyes with Kesia as if to say Keep it cool! as the foul, lumbering man walked back to his perch at the starting line. The detective stepped up close to talk without fear of eavesdroppers. His smirk melted away and his face hardened into an “All Business” expression. “You’re doing great, Kes. That was your first test, and you passed with flying colors -- stay cool and keep it up.” Tommy glanced back towards Muertes, who was now lounging with his stable of ladies – each and every one “better engineered” than the racing bike Kesia now straddled. A few of the bombshells sported slashed lips and deeply blackened eyes, serving as a harsh reminder that there was a limit Muertes had when it came to independent women.

“Okay, you’re starting in 8th of 8 racers,” Tommy began to explain as they rolled the bike past the last few spectators and into her slot. “This is good and bad. Obviously bad because it puts you furthest from Maza . . . and no racer likes being in last place. But it’s good because no one know the course.” He juts his head towards a reflective silver and blue logo with a lightning bolt through the middle. “See that sign? That’s the marker that shows you guys where to turn. They’re placed secretly all over the city and lay out the course. The person in front has to be sharp and keep an eye out for the turn signs . . . it can be damn distracting. The person in the rear can just follow the leader and pick her shots.”

Now locked in her spot, in the fourth row on the right, all the racers fired their engines and the crowd’s cheers became deafening. One of Muertes’ favorite ladies, a strikingly beautiful but comically well-endowed blonde, stood up on her perch at the starting line and prepared to wave the green flag. Tommy grabbed Kesia by the bell of her helmet and pulled his face in close to be heard over the ruckus around them. “This is it, Raze! If you have any questions, make it fast!”


[ This Message was edited by: Halo on 2004-09-10 18:22 ]

[Kesia Alfonse]

“Okay, you’re in da Corsa. But you line up in last row . . . bitches in back, ya know . . .”

Kesia felt that heat welling up again but a quick glare from Tommy reminded her to keep things in check. She watched the giant man walk away and thought how great it would feel to shove her boot up his ass right then and there.

“You’re doing great, Kes. That was your first test, and you passed with flying colors -- stay cool and keep it up.”

"Right...I already told you don't worry." she said, not looking at Tommy. Instead she only continued to stare at Muertes, as if trying to burrow a hole in his back with her eyes. He merely surrounded himself with the attention of his group of submissive girls, unaware of the hatred being directed his way. I'm glad I'm not some push over bimbo like that. I couldn't live with myself. How can they let him treat them so horribly. she asked herself, totally disgusted with the way most women bend over backwards for men.

“Okay, you’re starting in 8th of 8 racers. This is good and bad...

Tommy explained the rules. Pretty straight forward. She had raced in similar events before.
Before long she was in place and ready to rumble. She watched as the cliched blonde bimbo walked out and readied her flag to signal the beggining of the race.

“This is it, Raze! If you have any questions, make it fast!”

She turned to him and asked. "Yeah, how does this thing attach to a guy.." she pointed to her jacket pocket where the small signal device was stored. "And where do you want it on him?"

Frankly she had expected to be able to place the bug on the guy after the race while meeting him in person, but it didn't look like she was going to get the chance to approach him from the way he kept himself distanced from everyone. She'd have to do this on the move during the race, making it that much harder. Great, I love a challenge.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-13 06:10 ]

[Nomad Soul]

“Okay, you’re in da Corsa. But you line up in last row . . . bitches in back, ya know . . .”

Kesia felt that heat welling up again but a quick glare from Tommy reminded her to keep things in check. She watched the giant man walk away and thought how great it would feel to shove her boot up his ass right then and there.

“You’re doing great, Kes. That was your first test, and you passed with flying colors -- stay cool and keep it up.”

"Right...I already told you don't worry." she said, not looking at Tommy. Instead she only continued to stare at Muertes, as if trying to burrow a hole in his back with her eyes. He merely surrounded himself with the attention of his group of submissive girls, unaware of the hatred being directed his way. I'm glad I'm not some push over bimbo like that. I couldn't live with myself. How can they let him treat them so horribly. she asked herself, totally disgusted with the way most women bend over backwards for men.

“Okay, you’re starting in 8th of 8 racers. This is good and bad...

Tommy explained the rules. Pretty straight forward. She had raced in similar events before.
Before long she was in place and ready to rumble. She watched as the cliched blonde bimbo walked out and readied her flag to signal the beggining of the race.

“This is it, Raze! If you have any questions, make it fast!”

She turned to him and asked. "Yeah, how does this thing attach to a guy.." she pointed to her jacket pocket where the small signal device was stored. "And where do you want it on him?"

Frankly she had expected to be able to place the bug on the guy after the race while meeting him in person, but it didn't look like she was going to get the chance to approach him from the way he kept himself distanced from everyone. She'd have to do this on the move during the race, making it that much harder. Great, I love a challenge.

[ This Message was edited by: Bryce Snider on 2004-09-13 06:10 ]