forum Revenge is One Call Away // OxO // Closed
Started by @knightinadream group
tune

people_alt 53 followers

@knightinadream group

"Look, you never know what is gonna happen. All it takes is one quick move and your life changes," The old man explained, while slipping a piece of paper across the counter. "If anything happens, call that number. Trust me, they can help you when there's no one else. They're amazing."

A is the capo of the Acerbi Group and he is the most powerful one out the rest. Throughout the years, he has gained a lot of influence and power, but with all that gain comes with fear and resistance from others. On one fateful night, A is on his way to meet with the boss, Paolo Basso, only to end up getting stabbed by one of the boss's underlings. In an attempt to save himself, he calls a number that was given to him by an old restaurant owner.

And that number happens to be B's. B is the niece of the restaurant owner, not knowing that her uncle works with mafia members. Despite not knowing about her uncle being involved with the mafia, she is probably one of the most trustworthy and helpful people in the city. B works as an event planner, but knows a lot about treating injuries, including stab wounds. Although she appears to be soft, she knows how to put up a fight when need be.

Our story begins with that phone call. Just one call that changes the lives of our two characters and everything else in their lives. While A recovers, he tries to plan taking revenge, but will he be able to do it alone? Or will something bloom between A and B that they both cannot ignore?

Alrighty friends! To quickly summarize, this is a romance slash mafia revenge rp. One character gets betrayed by his mob group and calls the other character to be saved. Afterwards the mafioso tries to hatch a revenge plan, but a romance starts to bloom between the two. The rp takes place in the fictional Draspa, a fictional costal city that is like Barcelona. For this rp, I would like to be B.

Rules

  • andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s rules

  • This rp will be dealing with mature/triggering topics such as blood, gore, violence, and such.

  • Experienced rpers only

  • At least one paragraph response with good grammar and spelling

  • Please try to respond at least once a day if possible. There will be times where I'll be busy, but I will do my best to respond ASAP.

  • Swearing is a-okay with me, just no slurs.

  • No smut, if it gets to that point, we will just skip over it. References to it are okay.

  • I believe that is it for now. If you have questions or ideas for the rp, please let me know! :D

@Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

  Sample One: This is an example of a starter I did in another RP of mine. I usually don't do first-person POV, present tense, unless the other person does as well, but otherwise this is a good example of how I like to RP… though, my responses vary in length, anywhere from about 1 paragraph to several.  

Fire is kind of like love. It starts off as a little spark, a tiny flame that has to be fed in order to grow. In the early stages, it can usually be smothered out pretty easily. But, if it's fed, it can grow into something bright. Something that cannot easily be extinguished. Something that can warm those around it, thaw even the most frozen hearts, and light their paths.
You know what else fire is like? Hate. It too starts out as a flickery little flame, easily stomped out if someone catches it early enough. The biggest difference in love-fire and hate-fire is that, when fed, hate-fire doesn't grow into something bright and warm. Hate-fire grows into a raging inferno with a singular goal. It devours everything in its path, with no regard for the ashes and rubble it leaves behind. And it won't stop until it has eaten up everything.

I take a massive bite out of my dinner— a triple-cheese burrito I got at a dilapidated little diner down the street (and let me tell you, they have the best food)— as I watch the building in front of me go up in flames. The whole places glows bright against the otherwise dark street, like a torch in a dark cave. Fire laps out of the windows, licking towards the sky, little sparks floating off into the night. Smoke bellows from the roof, a dark cloud dotted with those aforementioned sparks.

My handiwork. It's so frickin' beautiful that I sniff a little and wipe a tear from my eyelash.

I have a feeling that the owners of the building— a warehouse, actually, that was being used to store some illegal contraband owned by a local crime syndicate— won't be nearly as impressed by the majesty of the flame that's eating up their property.

Good. I'm counting on that. Because this is my hate-fire.

The smell of the burning air— no, the smell of revenge— brings a grin to my face. It's so pleasant. So addictive. So… calming.

This street, on the edge of town, is mostly empty tonight, which is why I notice when a vehicle comes speeding down the road. No sirens or lights; it's not the police. (Tch, like police or firefighters ever do anything these days, anyway.) I can assume it's my good frenemies from the crime syndicate, coming to discuss why their belongings have officially been reduced to fire-fuel. And also probably to beat my brains out for being the one who caused it to be reduced to fire fuel.

Yeeeaaaa… I should probably leave now before I die.

I shove the rest of the burrito into my mouth and grab the empty gasoline cannister beside my foot before darting into the opening of a nearby alleyway; the sound of gunfire fills the air and bullets ricochet off of the brick wall beside me. Crap, no. Those aren't regular bullets, because they don't want me to have a quick death. Those are instant tranquilizer bullets. Where the frick do these jokers even get crap like instant tranquilizer bullets?

A bullet grazes past my head; I nearly choke on my burrito before dropping it altogether. I might've actually tried salvaging it if it hadn't plopped right into a puddle, but since I'm still getting shot at, it's really not worth going back for. Behind me, the car door slams; I can imagine several of the guys pouring out of the vehicle to come after me.

"You're a dead man, McCoy!" one man yells with acid in his voice.

It's dumb— I'm running for my life, after all— but I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "I dunno about that," I call back, sounding thoroughly unconcerned. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small, circular device with a fuse on it, and a lighter. "I'm feelin' pretty alive right about now." I flick the lighter, hold the little flame up to the device, and chuck it as far back behind me as it will possibly go. I don't stop to see how close or far they are from me, but it doesn't matter; I need to move faster if I don't wanna—

An explosion rocks the ground beneath me, and a wave of heat and air sends me flying forward. I slam into a wall and hit the pavement, hard. Everything aches, especially my head. I probably should've thought that through a little better. Several long moments pass before I find the strength to move. I push myself to my knees and glance up, my regrets vanishing at the sight of the perfectly gorgeous wall of fire separating me from my pursuers.

I slowly get to my feet, body throbbing, and make a sharp turn to disappear down the alley. That fire should buy me enough time to get away, for now.

They'll be after me again soon enough. Especially after I strike another one of their locations. And another. And another.

Because my hate-fire won't stop until it has burned them to the ground.

 
  Sample Two: Another starter I did, though this one is in third-person, past tense, like I usually write, except shorter and a bit more rushed.  

He was so good at being bad.

Laken grinned devilishly at his easy victory, at the figure slumped against the brick wall in front of him, shoulders drooped, gasping for a labored breath. Dark liquid, blackened by the shadows that the night cast over the quiet alley, seeped from a gaping wound in the man's chest and dripped from the blade hanging loosely from Laken's fingers.

"It's a shame, really," Laken hummed, twisting the weapon in his hand. "Things didn't have to go this way."

"You won't… you won't get away with this," the man rasped; blood spurted from between his colorless lips. "The— the police— the syndicate—"

"That's what they always say, and yet—" Laken stepped closer, pressing his foot against the man's chest, applying pressure. "I always do."

The man cried out; red dribbled down his chin. "They'll kill you! They'll kill you— God, I hope they do."

"Who? The syndicate? Oh, please. Your syndicate is one of the most pathetic crime syndicates in this forsaken city. They can't touch me." Laken removed his foot and bent down closer to the man, lightly running his dagger along the man's jaw. "And the police don't care for scum like you and me. For criminals. They won't care a bit when they find your stiff, mutilated corpse in some back alley, rotting like the garbage you are."

The man only groaned, wheezing.

Laken pulled away, glancing at the duffle bag on the ground a few feet from the man. A few speckles of red dotted it, but it was relatively unscathed. "Thanks for the cash, by the way. I'm sure your superiors won't mind, eh?" He grabbed the duffle, hefting it over his shoulder.

"They'll… stop you." The man closed his eyes, his breaths labored. "The police. The heroes."

Laken barked out a laugh. "You poor moron! Still clinging to childish dreams? There are no heroes here."

He plunged his heart into the man's heart and twisted it. He yanked it out, shook the blood from it, and shoved it into a sheath on his side.

And with that, he started down the dark alley, on his merry way.

@knightinadream group

Name: Milena Ada Caro
Age: 26
Gender: Female (She/her)
Sexuality: Omnisexual
Appearance: Milena is five foot seven with a curvy ectomorph figure. Her skin is a warm ivory color. She has jet black hair that goes down just below her shoulders; she prefers to keep it up in a bun most of the time with a hair tie or a scrunchie. Her hooded eyes are a shade of dark brown that almost look black. Below her left eye, there is a small birthmark. She also has a few light scars on her right arm.
Personality: Most would describe her as a bright and loving person. She always is talking to someone or smiling. Milena is compassionate, she loves helping others to the best of her abilities. She's soft yet is strong and is not afraid to step up to someone when need be. And while she does tend to get anxious from time to time, she pushes it away and tries to power through. Though she is often loud, vibrant, and talking a lot, she is also quiet and a great listener. She is great at remembering things and loves planning and strategizing.
Backstory: Milena does not remember much of her childhood. Her father passed away in an accident when was three then her mother left. She was taken in by her uncle, Fabio, and raised by him. At the time, her uncle was a doctor, but gave up the practice after the death of a patient. Milena tried to cheer him up by making him a drawing of the two at a restaurant called "Uncle Fabio and Family". Though she helped her uncle with the restaurant, she was never allowed to go during certain times, but she didn't question it. Instead Milena would hang out with her friends, read, go swimming, or whatever she felt like doing. When she was twenty, she was sent to study abroad, not knowing that her uncle had business with the mafia. At first she did want to become a doctor, but ended up going with being an event planner later on. Now Milena plans events like special dinners, parties, and weddings for a living. While she thinks everything in her life is going well, she cannot help but think that it could change for better or worse.
Other: She has a black cat named Vincenzo.

@Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

Name: Valor "Val" Lyn Gideon.
Age: 28 years old.
Gender: Male (he/him).
Sexuality: demi-heterosexual.
Appearance: Val stands at approximately 6'1", with broad shoulders and a somewhat narrower waist. He has a solid, athletic build, with fair skin. Scars mark his skin in various places, especially his hands, arms, back, and neck, and tattoos snake his arms. He has dark chocolate brown hair that is straight in texture and quite soft, hanging down almost to his shoulders but not quite; he keeps it tied back from his face in a ponytail most of the time, but sometimes lets it flow freely. It gets on his nerves but he can't bring himself to cut it. His eyes are dark green, and he has a light chinstrap of facial hair along the edge of his jaw. He has bright white teeth, though a few are slightly crooked, and overall angular features.
Personality: Upon first meeting Val, he seems like a harsh guy. Intelligent, calculating, but even cruel, with little sympathy for others. He looks at the big picture and knows how to pull strings to get things done. Most of the time, he's controlled, but if you find out which buttons to push, he can be easily provoked. He comes across as a bit detached, as if he has no sentiments towards anyone and therefore no real weakness; if he doesn't care about much, then it's hard to have leverage against him. He is driven and determined, refusing to accept anything except for success. He is pretty formidable as an individual, and he's proud of where he stands. He has trust issues, and because of that he rarely allows anyone to get close to him— but if someone were to figure out how to do that, chances are they'd find that he's actually an incredibly loyal individual who does have the capacity to care deeply for others. He does not handle any kind of failure or humiliation well and also has some mild anxiety and depression, though he keeps it hidden fairly well. When he gets stressed he can become reckless and struggle with impulsive behavior. He's quite cynical and views the world as inherently dark and humanity as inherently evil. He wants someone to prove him wrong.
Backstory: Val's life has been heck. His parents divorced when he was young, with his mother having custody over him and his father only receiving weekend privileges. While his father wasn't a saint by any means— a chronic alcoholic and terrible with emotions— his stepmother was always kind to him, and both of them were far better than his birth mother and stepfather, who abused him and his three younger siblings regularly— physically, verbally, emotionally, and otherwise. It didn't end until he was thirteen, when his youngest brother died from the extremity of the physical abuse he endured. His father and stepmother then regained complete custody, and Val lived a slightly more tolerable life throughout high-school. Val suffered from social isolation, anxiety, depression, and a variety of other issues. He got into drugs when he was 16, hoping to ease the pain, and through that he got introduced to some shady individuals. By the time he was 19, he was involved with local money laundering scandals, drug-running, and other illegal activity. When he was 20, he joined officially got in with the mafia, and they assisted him in murdering his mother and stepfather who had, as far as he was concerned, ruined his life permanently. Val got off of drugs sometime around then, straightened himself out in that aspect, but he still drinks alcohol from time to time. He has poured most of his time and effort into working for the mafia, building a name for himself among the criminal world. He's loyal to the mafia he works for and would never think of betraying them…
but perhaps the sentiment isn't exactly mutual.
Other: I think that's all. Is he alright?

@knightinadream group

(Alrighty, so I was thinking we can start when Val calls. :) )

Eight o'clock in the evening. Milena stared at the clock on the side of her living room, watching as the longer hand was making it way around. On the table was a bunch of magazines laid out about along with her laptop and phone. Her cat, Vincenzo, was laying beside the chair she sat in before he got up and walked away.

A sigh had left her lips. There was this odd feeling lingering within her. Something that is keeping her from finishing up on work. Something that is leaving her to stare at the clock for the past three minutes. She feels like something is going to happen, but here she is at home perfectly safe and fine. Maybe she needs to check to see if Fabio is okay.

Her eyes wandered over to her phone. Milena turned it over as she picked it up. Just before she pressed "call" after finding her uncle's number, she shook her head then placed the phone down. "Everything is alright," she whispered to herself while nodding. "Everything is going to be alright."

Her words of self-assurance did not really help as the strange feeling still remained. Is it some sort of warning sign for the future? Is something going to happen or has something already happened? She shook her head and found herself repeating those words again. Everything is going to be alright.

@Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

(This is sloppy as heck but I was rushing)

Bleeding out on the pavement of some forgotten backstreet was not how Val Gideon intended to go out.

He clutched at the wounds in his stomach, the sticky red substance leaking through his fingers. His mind was racing, trying to understand what had gone wrong.

On his way to meet the boss, jumped by someone who worked for the same man he did. It didn't make sense. Had that guy betrayed the boss, or was the boss out to get Val? Surely not the latter— Val had never given the boss a reason to doubt him.

Had he?

Some part of his brain wondered if maybe the man he'd saw wasn't one of the boss's underlings— that he was just… imagining it. But no. He'd seen that man before, and he got a good look at the face of the man who jabbed the blade into him and twisted it.

But he'd worry about that later. Right now he needed to make sure he lived to figure out what was going on. He kept one hand on the wound, trying to apply pressure, trying to stave off the bleeding. But good grief— he was no medic, and it hurt like heck. He couldn't call just anyone; if the boss really was out to get rid of him, he wasn't safe. He could trust no one.

Except…

His fingers dug carefully into his shirt pocket, pulled out a neatly folded slip of paper. He'd kept it on his person constantly, doubting he'd ever actually need it but unable to bring himself to anywhere without it. Red fingerprints stained the paper as he opened it; he laid it carefully on his leg and pulled out his phone, smears of blood covering the screen as he sloppily dialed the number with one hand and lifted it to his ear.

Doubt bled into his mind faster that the blood from the wound in his stomach. Chances were, the person on the other end of this line couldn't do him any good, even if they were to answer in time. It was a long shot. A last resort. A desperate act of a man with no where else to turn. He took a sharp inhale.

It rang.

@knightinadream group

(Oh no, it is all good!)

Still, she found herself not being able to shake off this suspicious feeling. If something was wrong with someone like her uncle, then she would have known by now. Someone would be calling her or she'd at least get some sort of message by now.

She began to walk about in her apartment. Although, she kept close to the table, in case anything were to happen. While walking up to the kitchen counter, she picked up a red hair tye. Grabbing her hair, she used the hair tye and put her hair up into a ponytail. As she wandered, she softly hummed to herself.

Suddenly she could hear her phone ring. It vibrated as it sat on top of the table and played the default ring tone. Right away, she dashed over and picked it up. When she read the number that was calling, her head tilted to the left. A small gap between her lips opened up while her brow quirked up.

For some reason, she felt like she had seen the number somewhere before, but where? Her eyes squinted as she picked up the phone. Only for a mere second did she stare at the screen before pressing on the green button.

Milena could feel her heart beginning to pound very quickly as she placed the phone up to her left ear. "Hello? Who's this?" She asked. Glancing over at Vincenzo, she noticed how her cat's green eyes stared back at her. She shook her head and went back to focusing on the call.

Taking the phone away from her ear for a second, she glanced at the length of the call time. It only has been seconds, yet it felt as if time was starting to drag out. Once again, Milena put the phone up to her ear. "May I help you?" She asked, hoping for there to be an answer.

Her eyes began to scan her surroundings. Sure it was her home, but she was also alone with the cat. Anything can happen, that is something Fabio had always told her and she always believed it.

@Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

(I apologize for the delay—)

Val's heart nearly stopped when he heard the voice on the other end. Someone actually answered? Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, but it wasn't like he was getting his hopes up. He sat up a little straighter, pressed the phone closer against his ear.

"A colleague a' mine— they told me to call this number in an emergency." His tone is a bit strained, but not as much as you'd expect from a man bleeding out. "Well, I've been stabbed," he said rather bluntly. In all honesty, it wasn't like this woman that he didn't even know was going to be able to offer him a lot of help. In fact, he felt kind of goofy for even calling— but what choice did he have? It was either that or just accept fate and die right here. "I don't know if you can—" He paused as a pain shot through his wound, and he tightened his grip on the injury. He swallowed, his mouth dry. "— if you can help me or not, but uh, this is the number I was given to call. The name's Val Gideon."

@knightinadream group

(No worries! I appreciate the response. :) )

Her lips parted, ready for words to spill out. She held the phone in front of her before hearing the man on the other line beginning to talk. Swiftly, she placed the phone back under her ear and listened to the man. So many questions arose in her mind, some seemed to be answered as the man spoke, and yet she was still left with many.

What is she going to do? Help this man named Val or just hang up? Milena could hear Val wince in pain. It did not feel forced, or at least, that's what she thought. "I can….I can…" She whispered. "Take deep breaths and relax your body, but put pressure on the stab wound. Okay?" Rolling her fingers into her palm, she took a deep breath. Who is this colleague that gave him her number? Why did Gideon get stabbed?

There's no time to ponder about it right now. She got up from her chair and began to move around. "Alright Val then, my name is Milena Caro. Where are you right now?" She asked, running into her bathroom. After grabbing a large rag and a few other things, she went to put on her shoes and get her keys.