setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
rules
PLAYBYS: Sims from the games Sims 2, 3 and 4 are used to visually represent player’s original characters (no characters from within the franchise are allowed). But, you do not need these games to join and roleplay! If you wish, you can post a thread in our out of character / general forum and list as many physical details about your character as you wish. The members of Index will happily try and make a character for you, and you can choose which one you feel best fits your vision.

AVATARS: Avatars should display your characters face clearly and should be at least 200 pixels tall, and 200 pixels wide.

THREADING & POSTING: When threading with multiple characters, it is important that you post only when it is your turn. This can be acheived by taking note of who has posted before you, and remember you are to always post after them. If you were the thread starter, then it is your turn after the final person has joined your thread.

When creating a thread you are required to place a tag before the title. Here are a list of types of thread you can create and how to tag each one:

[Open] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, with no limit on the number of characters.
[Open - #] Anyone is welcome to join your thread, but there is a limit on the number of characters who can join. Replace the # with how many extra characters you will allow to join your thread.
[Private] Only specific characters can join your thread.
[Closed] This tag should be used for threads that only involve your character.

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MATURITY RATING: Public threads should all be PG. If roleplayers above the age of 18 wish to post content that could be could be considered graphic then it should be hidden from view using the [hide] [/hide] code, which will enable only those in the threads and administrators to view the content.


 [Private] Explosive Private Parts - Page 2

[Private] Explosive Private Parts

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Gayle Shaffer | Vampire; Ancient

Posted on Wed May 17, 2017 12:19 am

Of course Lilah and I listened. While we were being promised new developments, I would still be delighted by a fascinating story. Would there be punishments handed down if this was a waste of my time? Of course, but as of late they were never what was expected. Torture with a silver cat-o-nine tails? Seclusion? Actually what did people expect? Did I even know what my staff, my researchers thought of me? Okay, so yes, I’d lost my temper a time or two. The results were usually a quick head removal and nothing more. Perhaps I had to think my reputation for the usually smooth running ship.

What happened to useless employees (who knew too much and could not be compelled, and even them too sometimes), was that they became the subjects rather than the researchers. It both was and wasn’t punishment. It was mostly efficiency. Nothing the surgery team couldn’t handle, I would think. I realized I was being perfectly still, statuesque. Countrary to how it looked, it meant I was comfortable, curious, and listening. I felt no need to feign breathing, to twitch, to move. Something that came with age, if I remembered correctly. Was I this still as an infant?

Now was the moment, at least it likely was. I fail to see the immediate danger of an earpiece, Sinclair. Another thing that my employees might find surprising, I was realizing because it was only on rare occasions I was seen by them - I had much more patience than Lilah. I’m sure she’s getting to that, Lilah. I paused, smiling at Lilah, then to Miss Sinclair. I’m anxious, but I request that your next development be some form of popcorn we might find edible for future moments with this level of anticipation. My eyes lit, and I whispered to Lilah, who darted from the room for the briefest of moments, almost as quickly as I could dash. I did hope with all the commotion from this morning, it wouldn’t be impossible for a few small glasses of red to be brought to the table.

I’d never given much weight to mediums. Weak necromancers who wasted their ability on expanding their circle of friends to the dead. But this, it was news to me and my glance to Lilah was all I needed and she pulled her phone, making a note to verify this statement at a later time. Of course, by the end of this meeting, it could very well be irrelevant, but whether not not my employee was truthful or thorough in her research would always be relevant.

Do you have information on this research? It was easily possible she was a physical witness, but I wanted both proof and more information. I was careful not to let my hopes rise, but I was actually pleased with where this was going. I wanted to question whether or not this was more related to technology or something else, the something else being something more recently explored in the Ogma labs. With reluctance, but it had proved useful.

Shame we couldn’t have been subjects, I said, grinning toward Lilah and my leg grazing hers. I feel that I’d seen something about this in the emails I’d been incessantly receiving from my financial advisors. Excuse me if I found it difficult, ever, actually, to place importance on green slips of paper. I lived in a time before it, and I believed that if I did make it past the end of this century, I’d live to see a time after it.

The consequences, if accurate, to her research, would certainly go beyond what she was selling me. Isolating human consciousness? How many researchers around the world would be salivating? And yet I had a feeling this demonstration wasn’t anywhere near finished. Color me somewhat impressed, but still cautious. It was all speak until proven otherwise. Once she had finally explained, described the use, Lilah looked to me, understandably. She for the first time in ages, was likely having difficulty predicting my reaction. I kept still, this time using my stoicism as the ultimate poker face. I am intrigued, but I will politely save my questions for the end. The implications of the others, the warlocks, the mediums, the necros, even to an extent my own. Could anyone detect these “ghosts”? But also, Lilah’s question had not been addressed. What was the danger? One of these ghosts “trapped” in the case? Was it more the risk of betraying what was inside the building meant to be confidential?

It started with a brief chuckle. Even seemingly flawless vampires, sometimes especially vampires, struggled with technology. Miss Sinclair, don’t fret. These things happen. Finally, there was a tray with four large wine glasses filled with “fresh squeezed” red liquid. Lilah and I immediately took ours. I’ve plenty of time for you to deal with your technical difficulties. I had always attempted to be polite, but the memory of the apparently small-brained assistant reading the hip hop lyrics replayed in my mind, and my lips were curled up in an impish grin. I tipped the glass, letting the still warm blood trickle between my lips, as I eyed the photographs displayed on the computer through my glass. Just when I thought it couldn’t get much better… I didn’t make the connection immediately but after I’d seen two garments personally made for yours truly, there was no denying.

Miss Sinclair, do those belong to you or your friend? Lilah’s tone was surprisingly lacking in that usual authoritative air, and she, at least to my ears, she sounded purely curious. If I knew Lilah, she was hoping for an honest answer. She had phases, and with this one in particular it seemed her clit would never be satisfied. Lilah, I said, returning the glass to the table, Don’t distract her. Business now, fun later, remember? Old gods, was she rubbing off on me?

Perhaps my tendency to be - whatever the opposite of disarming was, off putting, whatever, was my foe at the moment. I could only assume it was her anxiety at meeting with the woman from the top floor that made things so difficult once one thing went wrong. Was that it? The domino effect? Perhaps a snack break? You should have a drink while it’s still warm, Miss Sinclair.

It was when I heard the cry for help and the scene that my eyes found that marked the beginning of the thinning of my patience. I sat there, stunned (which was rare in my life as of late), wide eyed, the possibilities of what was actually happening scrolling through my mind. What the fuck is this, hip hop Beetlejuice? Lilah was better with pop culture than myself, I had no idea what that meant. I shifted quickly from astonishment to a more methodical train of thought. Was this all a planned theatrical gimmick? A display of not only the visuals of these “ghosts” but their ability to possess? Had she bribed the vampires into this, and compelled the humans? Was there a cleverly veiled necromancer?

And then a thought caught up with me: this was the security risk? An Ogma industries hip hop flash mob? A security risk? No. Actually, possibly. But more than anything, I was feeling this was a great waste of my time. I quickly downed the rest of the glass.

Miss Sinclair, I don’t suppose you have an explanation for this. I swung my arm, swatting away the first of the manipulated security guards like a fly. He flew against the wall and crashed to the ground. Or a way of getting it under control? I would call this much more than a technical difficulty.

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Mon May 29, 2017 6:53 pm

It must be Weird Shit hour down in the Ogma Industries basement because next thing I knew a broiling heat steamed through the doorway as if that door knob twisted open to the Gates of Hell. The actual door squatted down in its frame and stood back up, exhaling clouds of smoke that rolled across the carpet thick as a morning fog over a creaking bayou. My polished heels stood in ankle high smoke that curled around my calves, soaking every silk fabric it touched in rotten-egg stench until everything smelled like a dead body stuffed in a moss-covered trunk. Smelt like someone died in this room a few hours ago and was returning for their funeral.

Swear to God my heart spasmed with more terror than the lady who apparently saw the devil inside her toaster on the news, because let me tell you, every hair trapped under my sleeves pushed up against that fabric as if they were nudging the hatch of an emergency exit. Even my goddamn pubes stood alert inside my panties. Only reason my curls still neatly draped down my cheeks is because I had more spray than an 80s hairband glued to each strand.

My widened eyes darted about the room at four corners sealed into a group of walls that seemed to have eyes, watching me, ears, listening to me. The baseline pumping against the walls became the room’s heartbeat, the carpet squished beneath my heels the hairs of its back, the smoke tickling my thighs the fire of its lungs.

Oh My God.

I was standing in someone’s mind. In someone’s dream. I was a puppet in someone’s fantasy. There was no me. We are all one man named—

My ruby lips parted, “Snap out of it Tasha.”

It’s been five hundred years since sweat slickened the back of my neck but oily fingertips squeezed at the sides of my forehead, squishing every disturbing thought out of existence. I can’t give into this bullshit or I’ll end up dancing like Miley Virus on that conference table like those jackasses ruining my goddamn meeting. And I don’t even want to start with that fucking door flipping out in the damn corner. Hell it’s bad enough I used to swing around a pole to a song like this, all it would take is one push and that old whore will jump out of me.

A wildfire burned through my cheekbones as my features turned upwards, wearing a gentle smile between my cheeks, “Ma’am, I will see to it that this distraction is taken care of after I accept the gracious meal you have provided, thank you.”—was getting tired of sounding so damn polite. I almost hope this ghost or whatever would just possess me already so I can start rambling about how fat my pussy is. My brows crinkled at that thought…it didn’t come from me. Whatever.

My eyes rolled towards the rich blood swimming in a sparkling wine glass with my name on it – I practically dived towards the damn table and landed on my knees with my bum seated on my heels as my hands reached out for its thin stalk. I threw my head back, whipping blond locks from my face, as my hand tipped the flute backwards and my wanting lips scrubbed at every smear of blood stuck to the glass. A trail of blood crawled from my ruby lips onto the smooth of my neck. My emerald eyes turned towards Lilah from behind the glass perched on my mouth, and a visible sigh clouded the glass – she just had to ask about that. Of course she would ask about that. Who wouldn’t want to know why someone’s been snapping photos of their boss’ ass? I’ll admit to the crime but I won’t tell her what I’ve been doing with those pics. She has an imagination, she can damn well figure it out.

My hand delicately swung the glass away from my bloody lips as my arched brows perched onto my forehead, “Well, I took those photographs, because, Miss Shaffer has excellent fashion sense, as we all know, and I wanted some inspiration for the next time I went shopping.” My features went slack, scarlet burned through the apple of my cheeks, and just when Lilah’s penetrating stare almost sent me slinking away from the table a man rolling his hips around like a hula dancer randomly crawled across the table between us. A soft chuckle sputtered out me – if only this could happen every time someone asked me an uncomfortable question.

I stood up and clamped an arm around his waist like I was picking up a teddy bear, and another chuckle sent my mouth curling when his arms and legs still crawled along the air like a wind up car taken off the pavement. What the hell. I promptly carried his ass out the room and dropped him off in the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder and saw perhaps the creepiest damn thing in my life. He was crawling out of a dark shadow in that diva strut with his eyes locked on me like a jaguar prowling through the brush, moving in slow motion. God, it reminded me of that MTV movie. Sleep with the wrong prick and some creepy ass person starts following you everywhere.

“Okay, no.” I locked the door on his ass. Then my eyes narrowed upon my darling son embarrassing me with his wild twerking. I did what any good mother would do and threw his ass into the hallway like trash.

Finally I turned towards the widescreen to continue my damn meeting and my eyes grew wide at a goddamn medley of nude selfies flashing across the screen. Fucking. The images flashed by in a split instant that made my eyes wonder if I really just saw a blonde bimbo squeezing her melons together with her cherry lips puckered and ready to suck your cock or if the smoke rolling into this room came from a burning plant.

“No, this is not happening. How the hell did these damn ghosts or whatever the fuck they are find my goddamn selfies!” I squeezed my hand into a fist, then my mouth jerked into a cringe as my hand reached over to turn out the lights. “Damn it, it looks clearer in the dark.” I flipped the switch back up but the lights refused to turn back on. “Piece of shit.” I slammed my hand down on that light switch and my mouth puckered up at the lights flickering chaotically.

Sparkling noises erupted across the ceiling and I raised a forearm over my head as a light fixture exploded, sending a stream of fizzing particles over the room in an electric shower. Half the room was now darkened, and a strange red light seemed to blanket the walls that came from an unknown source. My brows crinkled at ancient glyphs stroking themselves across the wall:

ᚷᛖᛏ ᛟᚢᛏ

“Get out?” A cold sweat crawled down my neck. I don’t know who or what had gotten into this room. But I remember footage I saw of one man trapped in a room with an Overlord, what we call the disembodied minds. It wasn’t pretty.

“Ma’am, I’d like to share some of the drawbacks, as Lilah inquired about.” I folded my hands behind my back to hide the trembling in my limbs. “The headset itself does not pose a risk, but the longer one wears the device the more they begin to dissociate from their bodies, and this damage is often permanent. The first warning sign is when they can no longer find their body. A few experiments went beyond this point, their bodies are now freezing inside a cryogenic chamber, I actually have a photograph.” Before I could even walk over to the computer the very footage I wanted flashed onto the screen, and my eyes widened when I saw how much worse they looked than when I last saw them. One man, who was an emaciated skeleton of a thing to rival even the likes of a concentration camp victim, was now no more than skin stretched across his stretcher. His heart punched through his paper-thin chest like a fist, and his face was inhumanly wide and flat like a sheet held apart by strings.

“Oh my God.” I whispered when I saw that Kelsey, a rather full-figured woman who loved her food, was now a clump of flesh throbbing chaotically in every direction. Shit they didn’t have bodies to return to. My crinkled brow stared out into the hallway. Was there more to this experiment than I was told? I was aware of Phase 1, a relatively safe product, but was there a Phase 2 that took things further? That sought to create an army of disembodied brains? Why were they allowed to whither like this?

I stepped backwards from the screen, my hands caught the edge of the table as my round ass bumped into a chair. I looked over my shoulder at the two of them, “These, are some of our failed experiments, or at least that’s what I was told. I should disclose right about now that these two are still wondering this facility, they no longer identify with their bodies, and see themselves as pure mind. Here’s to hoping we don’t have company.” Here’s to hoping I don’t get fired.

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Gayle Shaffer | Vampire; Ancient

Posted on Tue May 30, 2017 10:43 pm

There was a small, bored part of me that didn’t want to do anything but watch the spectacle, and yet another part was unamused and annoyed. Anyone serious about their research would have been too prepared for something like this to happen. Judging by the warning she’d given security, she knew this was volatile. I suppose I did too, and yet boredom was something sewn onto my skin, forever clouding my vision and setting unease to my bones. I was about to watch the world burn and I was the one who was to strike the match. But I was still bored.

Lilah, can we… obtain the witch? The necromancer? What do we have to offer him? His name was Isam, a necromancer from Lebanon who had only once before been our hail mary. It appeared it would happen again, and I would have to reach deep in my pockets if I wanted to pay him for a very quick arrival and thorough job. According to my financial advisers, my deep pockets were empty. But once you’ve had money, it was easy to pretend to have money. It was easy to obtain and fill the coffers with I-O-U’s. Will you be o-  I’m perfectly fine, I interjected. The most short I’d been with Lilah since I could remember, but she knew it wasn’t toward her. It was the situation. I wanted Ms. Sinclair to handle it, but that was akin to asking a five year old to register for their classes, wasn’t it? She’d been sucked in too, revealing one hundred percent that vampires could be affected as well. This was valuable information; if only researched and controlled by someone in the department much more organized.

Lilah stood, ready to leave the room, but became entranced as I with the pictures. Annoyance gave way once again to amusement. It was always refreshing to be treated as anything but a timebomb, a maddened, vengeful queen. I could be, and Natasha Sinclair might become acquainted with that side very soon, but I had many facets and that was not even the largest. What a shame, Natasha, here I was hoping you’d be just fun behind closed doors as you are with your research. Lilah stood behind me, her hands lowering down my shoulders and down to my chest. My eyes met Ms. Sinclair’s as Lilah briefly parted my top, hands covering what was to be revealed. My chin raised, I inhaled but my eyes didn’t leave our guest. This is why I loved Lilah. We were perfect partners when it came to fucking with others.  An odd time to fuck with her, but perfect as well. Maybe she’d take it as a sign of good will from our direction - which would be a complete falsehood.

But the direction of this changed, immediately. I had expected Lilah’s hands to leave just as fast as they’d approached me, but I felt the whole of her move, she stepped back, hands only moving up to grip my shoulders, my jacket again spreading open to a “wardrobe malfunction” that was the least of my worries. (If I was worried about a nip slip I wouldn’t have worn the damn thing.) Her waist sunk and her ass and shoulders rose and I could feel the shake of her as her ass began to bounce. With this I was done. Completely done. Lilah was mine. An adopted daughter of sorts and she was not to be fucked with. My eyes now shone with a fury toward Sinclair. While this isn’t your will, you are the root cause of this debacle and you will help with the cleanup. The nude selfies didn’t phase me, at this point it was par for the course.

I think the drawbacks are making themselves apparent, Ms. Sinclair. It appears you’ve angered some of these dissociated minds, spirits, whatever the fuck they are, and I can’t say I blame them. Perhaps slightly hypocritical on my part, however when my subjects suffered it was localized to them and didn’t cause a goddamn congo line of security agents.  My head cocked to the side. It would have been wise for you to send information about your research prior to our meeting. You’re chaotic, and sometimes that’s what the doctor ordered but there is a time and a place, and Ogma is not it. I couldn’t bare to even look at Lilah, although she had actually stopped. I’d heard humans mention how hard it was to see a grown man cry. Lilah was tough as fucking nails. She was hardcore. I wasn’t going to ruin her image by gazing upon her at a time like this. It was something I refused to see.

I hope you have some idea on how to handle this, because plan B is that I call in a Necromancer. Do you know how difficult it is, for prey to ask the hunter for a favor? I now rose, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. I appeared in front of the computer controlling the display and shoved it off the desk, watching it almost disintegrate against the floor. You fear me, Natasha. Everyone here fears me. Usually it is unfounded. But today, your fears will be validated if you can’t sweep your shit up. Do you know how I punish those who cause difficulty to Ogma? Those who betray Ogma? Or those who harm those close to me? My head nodded slightly to Lilah who had grown silent and was gripping the edge of the table where the computer once lived behind her. The researcher becomes the specimen. But you, let’s make a deal. If you can sweep this up, clean as if this meeting had never happened, you’re absolutely fucking golden. If not, I bring in a necromancer for cleanup and as payment you become his pet.

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Sun Jun 18, 2017 12:51 am

A golden reverence sparkled in my hazel eyes as if they were gazing upon a promissory note to heaven and not a Sam’s Club sized post-it note stuck to a wall. Moments ago I grabbed after a sticky notepad inside my lab coat, tore off the first page, and was now staring at its makeup-free yellow face because the only thing that's keeping me from screaming is screaming onto this page. My trembling hand raised its ball-point pen to the sheet and stroked upwards into flowing cursive:

Dear Santa,

I know I’ve been a bad girl Santa. We don’t need to go into the details. You’ve given me enough coal to barbeque all the dogs in the Index pack. I would pray to Jesus right now but I don’t think He wants to speak to me after I used the family bible to spank my husband and his twin sister in a game of Hide The Nun. Santa please, if you ever get tired of Misses Claus you can always meet me behind the liquor store on 12th Street. We don’t need to go into the details. Please just make me look like a lab coat hanging from a hook right now. Please. No one would fire a lab coat. Or threaten to decapitate it. At most she’ll throw me in the washer if I get a few stains, or throw me in the trash when I ripped. I’d rather be thrown away than thrown on a pile of my ancestors’ ashes.

Death is no longer a fourfive letter word but a woman named Gayle Shaffer.

Miss Shaffer wants to kill me. Let this be my living will.

To my oldest living son, whose name I just forgot because I’m a terrible mother, give him my prized blood cookie recipe. It’s underneath a sofa cushion inside the Ball Room. Guests love it. Just have to lie and tell them it’s pig’s blood and not some woman’s period (special ingredient).

To my idiot son Percival, who done fucked everything up, let him eat shit and die, he’s not getting a dime from me. This was my moment of glory, my mark on the world, and in before I could even get to nitty gritty of this new tech some asshole tries to ruin it. Goddamn Percy betrayed me. Who else could be responsible? Surely it had to be that motherfucker—but why? What would his motive be?

Actually that is a damn good question. What WOULD his motive be?

whatever Santa I feel like a blonde in a slasher flick. I’m getting ready to trip on a microscopic twig or an invisible tree or my own dead body hell whateer it takes to get the pretty blonde lady on the ground so she can get stabbed to death. fuck

Santa I’m desperate. Shit what grown woman is sending you SOS letters when Christmas is like  40 goddamn months from now

SANTA HALP

Damn pen shattered under my forceful thumb and exploded blue blood all over my tremoring hand, dripping from my fingertips like Gayle snatched the limb from my wrist. I shoved a freakish blue hand into an oversized coat pocket and turned my angered face towards the foreign thoughts blowing at my ear, rolled my eyes down at the surreal presence crawling under my skirt. Something about all this crazy shit feels eerily familiar. I haven’t stepped foot in this room a day in my life yet I feel like I’ve been standing here since the day I said I do. I had my doubts that it was Kelsey or Subject #0028.

My head snapped towards the women at the other end of the table. A brow cocked onto my forehead and a red smirk curled at the corners of my lips. Oh I wanted to show Lilah some fun alright, wanted to throw pieces of her ripped panties at her feet like rose petals, closest thing to romance she’d ever get from me. “Well darling,” A sultry rasp scorched down my throat into the valley of my cleavage as my ruby fingertips stood upon the tabletop with their knuckles delicately curved backward, “We both know why women like us trap our bodies in clothes that remind everyone of how naked we are underneath them.” Right as I blessed that table with a handful of my freshly baked buns and swung a shapely nylon-wrapped calf over a succulent thigh sliding out my skirt that would give KFC a run for their money Gayle decided to drill her demonic eyes into my soul. “Oh?” My eyes widened, lips parted, and my satin skirt slipped off the edge of that table like I was sitting on a puddle of cum. My palm slammed behind me onto the tabletop, catching my weight, as my heel touched down on the carpet.

Golden tresses swung over my eyes which narrowed into green slits at Lilah’s hands parting the sides of Gayle’s jacket until the curve of her melons stared at me. My head cocked to the side and my mouth crumpled into a confused frown like I was staring at a mirage, wondering if I was seeing real water or about to bite down on dust. I flipped a hand over my eyes with a delicate limp in my wrist as my head turned towards my oversized post-it note glued to the wall, eyes darting about the desperate words scribbled onto yellow, any place but whatever luxurious boobage was going on over there. My ruddy features cowered into the comfort of my shoulder but I could still hear the fire in the ancient’s words, the wild tempest blowing on the horizon, threatening to knock down every tree in its path, to rip roof from house, to throw cars into fiery shrapnel at anyone who dare survive the calamity.

“Oh shit,” A cold breath blew past my lips as my widened eyes crawled towards the burning lava pit in the woman’s eyes. My thumb nail slipped between my anxious teeth and my shoulders flinched at every word. Her voice hit me as a wall of sound, though my spine refused to slump from its ladylike straightness my emotional landscape was in a ditch in Colorado somewhere. My thick lashes fluttered like a bashful schoolgirl, “Ma’am, I’m afraid Plan B might not work.”

My hands clamped the edge of the table as my curvy booty shimmied sideways across the glossy surface, knees caressing each other as my thighs rose over chairs in my way until I reached my case. I turned my head down to the suitcase beside me and pressed my thumb to a chrome plate near the handle. Green lights pulsed along the metal, tracing the intricate grooves of my print, before the entire chrome piece slid forward into a tray. A wand stood up, shone a red halo that warmed my face, and my eyelids widened as lights probed through my glistening green irises, “Necromancers interface with the dead, whereas these test subjects are very much alive. We tried, and oddities, even odder than today’s events, occur when necros interact with them. As soon as someone puts one of these headsets on they’re pretty much unstoppable, unless we can find the body.”  The final verification test scrolled forward into a digital touchpad and my fingertips tapped onto the screen, “We have to manually remove the headset from the user. Which should be incredibly easy to do considering they are in a coma.”

The ominous bulb beeping on the handle shone green. The case popped open, clouds of freezing smoke curled out its mouth as the lid swung backwards. My creased brow stared through swarming smoke for the damn headset when my eyelids suddenly drew far apart until their entire green balls became visible. My mouth dropped open, “Oh my God…” My eyes bulged out their sockets at a ketchup smiley face drawn on a turkey sandwich. You mean to tell me the explosive case that could’ve killed a whole block full of bitches had a goddamn turkey sandwich in there all along sitting in all its turkey sandwich glory? How the hell am I going to show my boss this? How? She spent 3 million dollars on a cold cut deli sandwich? Really? This was bullshit. No this was beyond bullshit. This was cow shit, gangsta shit, baby mama shit all rolled up into one shit sandwich that has so much shit in it you can’t even shit it back out. You will just be full ‘a shit for days after taking one bite of this shit. Fucking Hell.

The moment I saw that damn turkey sandwich I knew my baby Percy had nothing to do with this. It was that motherfucker’s fault.

My hands gripped the collar of my lab coat and swung the garment overhead onto the residual smoke rising from the belly of the suitcase. My hands slammed that case shut over white sections of coat peeking out its chrome-lined mouth. I pressed a hand down on that leather case like I was keeping a drowning head underwater as my cheeks plumped up a pleasant smile for my boss, “Ma’am, it appears Mister Sinclair has prepared a live demonstration for us. Please feel free to interact with the mind now occupying the room. It has the intellect of a horny 13 year old boy so don’t anticipate an intelligent conversation.” As my head turned over my shoulder my mouth crumpled into a sassy purse at scratchy giggles bouncing around the walls that sounded like someone’s African dick was massaging the back of his throat. I kissed my teeth as my neck flicked stray hairs from my eyes, “Bruno was your brain not turned with the rest of your body?” The laughter warped into a nightmarish chorus of clashing tones. Nothing pisses me off more than listening to an out of tune instrument. Fucking Bruno.

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Gayle Shaffer | Vampire; Ancient

Posted on Wed Jun 21, 2017 7:48 pm

Do you think she’s writing her resignation letter? Lilah had hovered about to whisper in my ear. I didn’t want Ms. Sinclair to hear my response, which would have been, No, I’ll have her termination letter written in her own blood. What a shame, too, she was gorgeous, and obviously intelligent enough for such a development but just shy of honing it down to its true potential. Still sub-par and now a streak of shit smeared across the Ogma label.

You’re smart enough to warn me of this before we begin. That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve done today, Sinclair. So, why then, aren’t you doing it? Don’t you have phone calls to make? Find these comatose poltergeists and take away their power? My statement was a reminder that she wasn’t the only one who would need punished. Could easily give these beings my blood, heal them for the mere sake of making sure they would feel my punishment. I watched her every move like it was a bad comedy, where you painfully watched as the protagonist dug their own hole deeper and deeper.

There hasn’t been intelligent conversation this entire meeting, Natasha. I grinned but Lilah’s face was set like stone. But the sound was too much, all of it was too much and it was time for it to be put to bed. In an instant I was atop the table, the suitcase kicked across the room, and that blonde head of hair was in my fist as I flung her into the wall. I moved in front of her and wrapped my hand around her neck - but I intentionally lacked the grip. You’ll take me to these bodies, and we’ll shut them down, do you understand? I’m done. Demonstration over. My eyes moved up and down then stuck on her eyes. Are they here? In the lab? In the corner of my vision I watched as Lilah took a seat, leaned back and kicked her legs up on the table, smiling as she watched the show.

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