forum PRP with AloeVera

Started August 06, 2020 by @Ewen_the_Eccentric

tune

((This is one of my favorite RPs ))

The second I realize he's at the bottom of the ladder, I lunge for a higher rung and scramble for the top— but it's already too late. The whole ladder moves beneath me, and the rung I'm currently standing on isn't strong enough to handle both my weight and the ladder's momentum. Even if it hadn't snapped, I probably would've been a goner— but when it breaks off on one side, causing me to fall to the next rung and slice my shin on the jagged metal rung, I no longer stand a chance. I shriek— both out of panic and pain— and the ladder slips from my hand's grasp.

I grab for it— for anything, really— but the swaying motion of the ladder is enough to send me flailing just beyond it's reach, and I'm already in freefall. I'm close enough to the wall that there's a windowsill right below me, but my fingers aren't strong enough to grip it— and then there's the impact.

Pain. That's the only thing I'm aware of. Everything hurts, and I can't breathe. I'm dead. I'm definitely dead.

No— wait. You can't feel pain if you're dead, so I guess by default I'm still alive.

I gasp for breath that still won't come and manage to open my eyes— maybe they were never closed to begin with, but everything turned all white there for a second. My visions a little blurry, and spots dance across it, but I see the concrete pavement in front of me. A little bit of blood, which I'm assuming it mine.

I try to move, and the pain comes back full force. I manage to suck a bit of oxygen down my lungs, so apparently I can breathe; the wind just got knocked from my lungs from the force of the fall. Okay— so the good news is that I'm still alive and I'm probably gonna make it.

The bad news? I've definitely cracked a few bones, and I'm just remembering that I still haven't escaped the person I was running from to begin with.

( 🥺 i was JUST thinking about how lately i've found some really good people to RP with and it made me rlly happy bc i haven't been able to find someone that has the same or similar enough style as me so I'd always have to adapt for like YEARS but i recently started another RP and have been RPing with 3 other people that are such amazing writers and know how to write lovable characters and give a compelling story and keep the energy going and i'm just rlly glad i found y'all :') )

Though the ladder shaking rendered itself to be the correct idea, I still needed to swerve to the side as quickly as possible to avoid him falling directly on top of me. Luckily, his attempts to break his fall managed to buy me time to get out of the way. I watched as, almost in slow motion, he plummeted to the ground, hitting directly against his back. I could see by the vacancy in his eyes that the impact did more than fracture some bones.
That's better than getting shot, I thought to myself, trying to justify on both sides of the moral compass, hopefully by returning an injured criminal will earn me less of a punishment for not killing him on the spot.
I step in front of his vision, bending my back to cover his entire line of sight as I hold back a smirk. With the pain he sounded like he was in, I didn't think he could get far even if he tried to run again, but something tells me he won't try this time. Unless…
I squint my eyes at him, glaring him down as I grip his shirt collar and hoist him to his feet.
"Are you stupid now?"

((I'm glad you found us all, too!! :D You're definitely one of my favorite RPers and I love both your style and your characters. :3 And you just seem super nice in general so extra bonus points.))

I unintentionally whimper in pain as he yanks me to my feet. Everything hurts. In hindsight, I would've been a lot smarter not to have tried the ladder and just let him take me in. Getting caught was always inevitable, anyway, and at least then I'd have a little bit of dignity left. But nope. Apparently it took possibly getting a concussion, cracking my tailbone (or at least bruising it horribly), and possibly fracturing one or more of my limbs (plus slicing my leg on that stupid ladder) to learn my lesson.

A somewhat pitiful "No," is all I manage, though it sounds a little raspier than it would normally because I still haven't caught my breath. The realization that this guy is probably going to kill me— or take me to people who intend to kill me— starts to sink in, and panic bubbles up deep inside of me. But there's no way I can get away from him now, and even if I could, I'd never get far. Which means it's over for me.

My eyes water involuntarily, but I blink away the tears as quickly as they form. I'm not sure if it's from pain or from fear of what they'll do to me. If anyone asks, it's the former, because that sounds less pathetic.

( aaww also sorry for becoming inactive!!! A lot of changes are happening in my life at once so I'm probably gonna be less active but dw there will be times where I will respond a whole lot due to my ~☆ rotating methods of escapism☆~ )

I pull out a pair of thick iron handcuffs and cuff the wounded kid, sizing him down once again. I still don't understand why Dr. Rose and Captain think he's some deadly terrorist, this seems like the first time he's really taken a hit. We start making our way down the street in the direction of HQ.
"That little stunt back there was your own fault, but I'll see what I can do about having them fix you up." I whisper to him, as if I don't want anyone else to hear; as if someone's listening. The street may have calmed down a bit since earlier, but nevertheless a crowd still remained. I wasn't exactly the biggest fan of crowds, but I had to learn to deal with it when Captain made me patrol the streets almost every night. He said if I came back without a criminal apprehended or neutralized, he'd send me back out there until I found someone to arrest. Some nights I'd grow so desperate for rest that I'd apprehend someone for such a small reason, but Captain doesn't mind; all he wants is for me to arrest someone. I myself don't know why, but I'm in no authority to ask. Regardless, there's no telling how many civilians in this lowly town I've arrested under minor charges; I could feel some hateful glares on my back.

(You're fine!! Welcome back. :3 I did miss you and your roleplaying though!! XD)

I tense up as he secures the cuffs around my scrawny wrists. "Fix me up?" I echo, mirroring his whispers— even though I have no idea why either of us need to bother to be quiet. "Why on earth would they need to fix me up?"

They're going to kill me, aren't they? Then why would fixing my injuries even be considered an option? Unless they want to drag out my last moments as long as they can, make me suffer for an extended period of time before killing me? Heck, maybe they won't even kill me. Maybe they'll just beat me senseless and cut out my tongue and turn me into some kind of slave or something. I've heard of gangs doing it to each other; I wouldn't put it past the government to do it to me.

That panic inside me continues to build, until my mouth is dry and I can feel that my face has paled. I try not to make my discomfort and fear so obvious, but my heart is thumping fast and the fear makes me want to run. The only reason I don't try to wrest out of his grip is because he looks like he could beat my sorry behind to a pulp with one hand tied behind his back— and considering how badly I'm already hurt, that's the last thing I need.

But as stupid as it is, as much as I'll regret the words as soon as they slip from my lips, I can't help but ask him the question that's burning in my mind. "What're you gonna do to me?"

But you, I don't simply mean him; I mean the government and the people he works with. Truthfully, I don't want the answer. I want to wake up from napping in some cardboard box behind a dumpster and realize that this is all some weird dream I had from drinking a few too shots of alcohol or eating old pizza— but, unfortunately, this is all too real.

(Aaww haha thank you! )

When he began talking, I tighten my grip on his upper arm, a sense of slight panic entering my system for a short moment.
"Shhh-geezus, keep your voice down."
I realize my urgency for him to be quiet caused me to grip his arm tighter, so in a breath I loosen it, enough for me to still hold him, but not too much that I'm cutting off blood flow.
"Everything is being recorded, but the mics can't pick it up if we whisper." I breathe into his ear, looking around me before continuing, "If you're more lucky than you are stupid, I can convince them to enhance you like they've done with some other ex-criminals. With your injuries, they'll replace the broken or damaged parts with mechanisms, making you more powerful."
I have to refrain from looking at his face while talking; I know Dr. Rose will monitor my visual recordings, and he'll definitely notice that something's wrong if I looked at the kid.
"This means you'll have to work for us, but I don't think you deserve to die; consider this an alternative."

I tense as he squeezes my arm with a death grip. Dear gosh, this dude is strong. He could probably rip my head off without breaking a sweat. But I'm too busy mulling over what he said to focus on that.

"Enhance me?" I hiss-whisper. "But— I don't want that, either!" My mind conjures up the image of them wiping my memories, brain-washing me into being a puppet-slave for the government. "I— don't wanna be some kind of robo-cyborg-toy-soldier." The words slip through my lips before I realize that may be offensive. "Not that you're a robo-cyborg-toy-soldier—" I try to recover, but it backfires by unintentionally sounding sarcastic. "I just— I don't want to be controlled by the government!"

Saying it must make me realize the impending doom of the situation, because I finally muster up the courage and/or stupidity to try to jerk my arm from his steel grip.
Needless to say, he's a lot stronger than me and I'm still sore as heck. It's about as effective as a chihuahua tugging at a leash that's tied to a rottweiler— more pathetic than anything.

Though Jude may not have meant anything personal, I still took mild offense to his words. Even if I myself may be questioning the validity of my existence, surely I'm more than what he thinks I am, right? I wanted to learn about my past, before I fell under Dr. Rose's care, but he said he created me. I believed him for awhile, but everything around and in me has been providing evidence otherwise. Regardless, there was no way I'd confront Dr. Rose about it. He'd find some way to convince me that he's right and I'm wrong.
His feeble attempt to shake me off of him shoves me back into reality, and I blink my eyes. I realized some time had passed while I was glaring coldly at him, so I look away for a moment to recollect my thoughts. Though many criminals have concluded that working under the government was a better alternative to execution, I know of a few that opposed the idea at first. Something inside me told me this kid was different, though. As we turn another corner, I pull his arm slightly closer to me, lean in, and whisper.
"I didn't say you'd be controlled by them. I said you'll be employed by them. You'll have more physical power and you'll be trusted on the inside. Do what you want with that."

"Employed, controlled, what's the difference?" I whisper back, the bitterness I have towards this screwy government and it's distorted society seeping into my tone. It's an ugly mixture of fear and hatred. Fear of being tortured; hatred from these people who control everything. "I'll have whatever physical power that they give me, which means it's really just their power. I don't care if I get to be Superman for cryin' out loud; if I'm stuck under their thumb, I'm nothing but another crony." I try to wrestle my arm from him again, but good grief— he's like a brick wall. I'm too sore for this, so I let myself go slack in defeat. The chances of my escape have been reduced to zero, what with my injuries and his overpowering strength. I'm screwed.
All I have left is my willpower and my panic— but it's hard to differentiate the two at this point. "And I'm no crony," I bite back, that aforementioned panic making itself evident in my wobbly voice. I try to tamp it down, but it's impossible. I don't want to die. But I don't want to be controlled, either. "I don't belong to any government, and I never will!"

I close my eyes in frustration, shaking my head. This guy's agenda is so narrow that he can't seem to hear between my words. I can't spell it out for him without risking my own demise, but how do I tell him what I mean? As we turn another corner, the tall, ominous building appearing in my line of sight. Before we entered, I turn to Jude and looked him in the eye.
"Once I hand you over to the Captain, whatever you do is no longer my concern. Meaning, if you were to escape, I wouldn't bother to stop you."
I stare at him, as if I could telepathically communicate my point across. Though, I knew this amount of time would be suspicious, so I turned away and we continued forward, regardless of whether he reacted or not. I step through the door, my identification confirming through the system and granting me access through the second pair of doors.

My heart rate speeds up as he pulls me through the doors with him. Did he just say what I think he said?
"Meaning, if you were to escape, I wouldn't bother to stop you."
I blink a few times in disbelief. Is he baiting me? Trying to tempt me to try to escape so that the government will have an even bigger excuse to kick my *ss, or is he actually telling me to try to escape for my own sake? I have no idea, but since I've got nothing else to lose, I'm gonna go with: he's actually trying to help me.
Seems a bit suspicious, though. He has no reason to help me. He's the one who knocked me off of the ladder and got me all banged up. He's the guy who came to bring me back here. Why would he try to plant the idea of escape in my head and undo all of his work? I don't understand it. It doesn't make sense.
But while all of this is rolling through my head, he takes me deeper into the building, and the dread of running into whoever this Captain person is builds up. My mouth goes dry and my heart is already pounding like a drum in a hard-rock song.

Walking down a few halls, I caught a handful of concerned glances directed at me. Even Roger, a coworker who usually antagonizes himself against me, stopped my stride by gripping my outer arm and muttering,
"Hey, Eddie. I can deliver him the rest of the way."
I huff. He always calls me Eddie, no matter how many times I tell him to call me Edward. Our equally overabundance of stubbornness results in a constant bickering about this subject.
"It's Edward, and why would I let you do that?" I responded to him, furrowing a brow. He gazes at Jude for a short moment before returning his worried expression to me.
"I think you already know what Captain will think of you returning an alive terrorist."
I stiffen, which resulted in me slightly gripping Jude a bit tighter. I just hope he doesn't know what we're talking about. Unfortunately for me, I do know how Captain will react. I've seen him beat his squad members to a pulp just for looking at him wrong, and here I am only half-completing a mission. I relax the tension in my bones as I shake my head.
"I'll take this. It's my mission." I utter before continuing my walk.
"Roger's expressed his distaste for the government as well, I'm sure you two would get along." I hissed, trying to convey my tone in a convincing enough manner for Dr. Rose's recordings while still getting my real message across to Jude.
We walk through one last door, catching the attention of a large, towering man with square-like facial features. His thick eyebrows permanently curved downward to express hardened anger.
"What is this?" He bellowed, already sounding pissed off.
"Sir, I've returned the fugitive Jude Byron because I noticed that his passion and long-bottled frustrations matched the attitude of our squad, and I suggest you consider adding him to your team."
Captain frowned, somehow even more than he already was, and crossed his buffed arms. He exhaled heavily and stood quiet for a long moment before calling out down the hall.
"002!!" He shouted, and within seconds, Roger stood at attention next to Jude and I.
"Yes, Captain."
"Take the criminal to a holding room. I need to talk to 001 privately."
I gave a quick glance to Jude before handing him to Roger.

Okay, so, I could say that I completely understand everything going on here— but then I'd be lying. Edward— or Eddie, or whatever his name apparently is— keeps dropping all these weird comments with double-meanings, but I don't understand why he'd want to help me. Unless maybe he's some kind of secret double-agent, working for the rebels? But if that was the case, why didn't he just let me get away in the alley? Or at least find a method of capturing me that didn't involve me getting severely bruised?

My heart leaps into my throat when I see the man that everyone refers to as "Captain." He looks like he could kill me with one punch, and I'm convinced he'd love to just by his permanent scowl. But apparently he's not going to, because next thing I know, Edward-Eddie-whatever-his-name-is is handing me off to this Roger guy.

I'm so confused, and even more terrified. Even with all of Edward's odd hints and comments, I don't know how to feel about this situation. Am I actually gonna have a chance of breaking out of here? Is that what Ed's implying? If not, then what? What's gonna happen to me? I can already envision the brick-headed Captain smashing my body to pieces with his oversized fists.

And why does Captain Square-Head seem so salty with Edward, anyhow?

I don't get the chance to find out, because Roger leads me out of the room, presumably to the holding cells. "So, Roger, what's gonna happen to me now?" I ask, trying to sound detached and calm. I'm definitely not. I just want to see if Roger's response lines up with Edward's.

Roger chuckled, his grip with Jude much more gentle, but still enough to hold him.
"To be completely honest, I don't know. I've never seen Eddie bring back a criminal alive that he was very clearly told to kill. He's always been a mindless soldier that asks no questions, but this is a blatant contradiction of everything he's ever been."
Roger led Jude to a hall that contained several doors, all leading to small rooms, enough to hold a prisoner.
"I know what's going to happen to Eddie though. You should thank him for only letting you get away with a few fractured bones, a concussion and a gash through your shin. He's most likely taking a worse beating right now for not bringing you in dead. He had to let you get hurt at least a little bit so that they wouldn't shoot him on the spot."
Roger opens one of the doors, revealing a raised bed much like one from a hospital, and walked inside.
"Did he say anything to you? Don't worry, they're not recording this conversation. You can tell me."