The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: mdazfrench on 11-10-2008, 00:28:37</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 00:28:37</strong>
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				Traci Hawkins – <br>October 3, 8:24 AM<br><br>I&nbsp; groaned as I shifted in the sweat soaked folds of my bed, the buzzing alarm tearing through the hang over like a white hot awl.&nbsp; Fingers groped blindly across the small stand next to the bed before slamming down in a fist on the offending clock.&nbsp; The intruder into my sweet oblivion fell dutifully silent, it’s plastic casing cracked from previously violent encounters.<br><br>Sitting up slowly as the light of the rising sun tore at my blurry eyes until a shakily raised hand blocked it, I tried desperately to remember the previous night.<br><br><em>Damn it.&nbsp; Not</em> another <em>bender</em> – I cursed, throwing back the covers, noting the beer bottles littering the smooth carpet of the bedroom.<br><br>Feeble and trembling legs carried me to the clock, bleary eyes trying to make sense of the seemingly cryptic digital display. October 3.&nbsp; <em>God, three days?&nbsp; I must have gotten</em> royally <em>messed up!</em><br><br>Bracing my head against the wall I waited for the brass band to stop marching through my skull.&nbsp; Breath came fast and shallow as I attempted to sort out the jumbled twists of memory.&nbsp; As always it eluded me and a fist slammed against the beige wall paper with a grunt of frustration.&nbsp; I still had no idea what triggered them, but every once in a while I woke from what appeared to be an alchoholic binge with a migraine for the record books.<br><br>It hadn’t been this bad for a while though, not since high school.&nbsp; The funny thing,&nbsp; the really weird thing was that I <em>never </em>drank.&nbsp; &nbsp;I was always clean and sober until another blackout decided to roll around.&nbsp; It was as if something deep inside of me was trying to purge itself, to wash itself away with the sour taste of beer.<br><br><em>Amelia is going to kill me –</em> I thought as I stumbled into the bathroom, stripping off the clothes that had probably spent the last several days clinging to me before stepping into the shower.<br><br>The steaming hot water washed over me, wipping away the sweat and grime with it’s cleansing stream.&nbsp; I stood there for a long time, muscles trembling as they fought to remember something, something my brain had forgotten. My head smacked lightly against the tile wall of the shower as the familiar frustration washed over me.<br><br>I should be happy.&nbsp; I’d taken over the family business, Pop’s private investigation firm, almost two years ago.&nbsp; Dad had always said I’d had the best nose for trouble he’d ever seen, and I’d proved it time and time again over the last twenty four months.&nbsp; A slim beauty, I looked nothing like what someone would expect for my profession.&nbsp; Tall, just cresting past six foot, the lithe but well formed body looked more like a cheerleader’s rather than a woman that had spent much of her childhood wrestling with her brothers or competing in sports.<br><br>Long, slim legs rose to a trim waist and an athletic, tight rear.&nbsp; My smooth, toned belly was the result of the ruthless training regime I was very carefull to keep up on.&nbsp; Breasts, full and firm;&nbsp; had always been a constant source of teasing from my brothers as well as the reason for a lot of attention from other boys .&nbsp; My long black hair fell in wet strands down my smooth backside, it’s bangs pressed against a sharp and beautiful face,&nbsp; soft hazel eyes closed as the water washed over me.<br><br>I stood there for a long time, a soft sob escaping my lips as a half forgotten memory danced across the surface of my mind.<br><br><em>A basement.&nbsp; Chains.&nbsp; Pain.&nbsp; A smiling man.&nbsp; A torn and mangled car.</em><br><br>I’d tried hypnosis, meditation, any number of crackpot memory recovery scams.&nbsp; Nothing helped.&nbsp; The best I could do, and what I did now, was to push it out of my mind.<br><br>I quickly and efficiently scrubbed myself clean, stepping out to quickly dry myself off, kicking bottles to spin beneath various pieces of furniture as I walked back into her bedroom.&nbsp; Dressing quickly in my customary jeans and button down white shirt I took a moment to smile at my attractive but slightly slovenly reflection.<br><br><em>Amelia’ll flip when she sees me –</em> I&nbsp; grinned in fond amusement at the thought of my pushy and somewhat obsessive accountant, the ‘nanny’ I always called her.<br><br>Slipping the familiar weight of my shoulder rig on, I took a moment to check the old .38 pistol, my fingers touching it’s worn metal almost reverently.&nbsp; Dad’s gun.&nbsp; It had carried him through countless dangerous jobs and had saved me in several of my own.&nbsp; Throwing on my worn overcoat I stepped out of the apartment into the bright, crisp fall morning.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 05:55:48</strong>
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				Saint Laurence City, once the regional center of both industry and the arts, is sliding ever closer into the abyss.&nbsp; With each passing year, the safe and clean district of the city contracts towards its center, until it now extends only a few blocks beyond the sprawling skyscrapers of downtown. The highways and railroads the only reliable passage through the untamed urban wilds.&nbsp; Roving and rivaling gangs stand eager to rape and murder any that strays into their territories, while the higher criminal and corporate elements extort cash and goods from those wishing for protection.&nbsp; No matter where one turns, danger awaits.&nbsp; Rapists, torturers, slavers, murderers—the vilest scum are on the rise in Saint Laurence.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the ghetto, the gangs are extending their rule with hair-trigger violence, mowing down anybody that shows the slightest bit of resistance to their rule.&nbsp; They have all the sense of a teenage boy, their actions dominated by violence and lust.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Downtown, the mayor’s office strikes under-the-table deals with massive corporations, solidifying political power at the cost of their souls.&nbsp; &nbsp;The major newspapers have been tainted, too, leaving the political machine running without any source of checks and balances.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the red-light district, prostitution thrives as the number of available women skyrockets.&nbsp; The police don’t bother cracking down, not on the brothels or streetwalkers, nor the illicit trade responsible for the boom in human flesh.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the outer suburbs, the mafia maintains control complete control, offering protection for an exorbitant price.&nbsp; But for all that the feds try to stamp down on their control, even they acknowledge that the protection works; of all the parts of the city, none function more smoothly than the suburbs.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At the docks, the black market thrives as thousands of unchecked containers enter and exit each day.&nbsp; Many wonder what is inside those boxes, but they should be wondering <em>who.</em><br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And beneath it all, in the dark sewers and deserted steam tunnels, grows an even greater evil—one that is quickly extending its grasp across the entire city.&nbsp; Even now men and women are disappearing into the depths at an astonishing rate, but few are willing to point out the obvious, lest they themselves get targeted next.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;However, not all hope should yet be lost.&nbsp; One lucky young woman is blessed with great power, but nobody in the world knows the extent of her powers—not even herself.&nbsp; Twenty-three years old, she’s taken up her father’s job as a private investigator.&nbsp; Her office rests on the border between the safe part of the city and its wild side.&nbsp; She doesn’t realize the many sad fates that await her and all those that are close to her.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;------<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;An elderly man stood outside the detective agency, feeling his pocket to confirm that his wallet had not been picked. He stared at the agency’s sign, unsure of whether or not he was making the correct decision.&nbsp; “Well, no point in waiting,” he muttered to himself.&nbsp; How long had it been since he asked somebody for help?&nbsp; There was no alternative; he had to ask, even if it were embarrassing to ask a girl one-third his age.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>The reception room was vacant, but the door to the back office was clear; he peeked his head inside and recognized the detective’s daughter.&nbsp; “Miss Hawkins?” he asked before continuing, not even waiting for a response.&nbsp; “I need your help getting rid of some gang bangers that are scaring away customers from my store.”&nbsp; He opened his wallet and placed its entire contents on the desk, hoping that she would say yes, and eager to answer any questions she would have about his unfortunate plight.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 06:46:20</strong>
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				<em>One of the hardest things about this job is learning how to turn away the sob cases.&nbsp; Learning how to say no.&nbsp; You can't help everyone, Traci</em> my father had told in this very office, bouncing his smiling girl on his broad knee.<br><br>It was a lesson I'd tried to take to heart, tried to make my code.&nbsp; And one that I failed miserably at keeping.<br><br>Smiling softly at the man I kept my eyes away from the pitifully thin wad of cash he'd placed on the desk and rose out of my rickety but comfortable chair.&nbsp; Taking his bony hand into mine I led him over to one of the more comfortable chairs of the office, the shop owner trying to hide his sigh of relief as he sank into the soft leather.&nbsp; Pulling up a chair of my own in front of him I leaned forward, resting my hands on his as I spoke.<br><br>"Sir, I'm not sure what you've heard I do here." -<em>At least, I </em> hope <em>you haven't</em> - "But gang suppression is police work.&nbsp; Or hell, if you're desperate, the Mob.&nbsp; I can collect info on them, even hand it over anonymously to the police but the chances of something coming of it are pretty slim."<br><br>I saw the light go out of his eyes, the cold wave of reason snuffing out that small fire of hope in his breast and hurried on "<em>But</em>, I can see what I can do.&nbsp; What's the name of the particular gang bothering you?&nbsp; How many do they normally bring to the store, and have they asked for anything from you?" another deep breath before plunging into the question that no one ever answers honestly "And have you done anything to them that might have pissed them off?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 15:30:48</strong>
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				The old man took off his porkpie hat and held it against his chest.&nbsp; “Thank you for listening,” he said, his voice relaxing with relief.&nbsp; “The police won’t do anything, no matter how often I call.&nbsp; That’s to be expected, I guess—the cops never come ‘round to the old market district.&nbsp; I don’t know what happened.&nbsp; It was so nice when I was growing up back in the… never mind.<br><br>“They’re the Devil Dogs… Devil’s Angels?&nbsp; Devil Guardians?&nbsp; Blood Dogs?&nbsp; Blood Hounds?&nbsp; Must be the Blood Hounds.&nbsp;&nbsp; I can never remember the names of all these stupid gangs.&nbsp; So many of them popping up recently.&nbsp; But, yeah, that’s their name they’re a big group of rowdy little punks.&nbsp; They hang out in the old alleyways, doing their drugs and god knows what else in the darkness.<br><br>“Anyway, a few of them came in about a month ago, acting all businesslike but still looking like dog wretch, and demanded some protection money.&nbsp; Protection money?&nbsp; From shits like that?&nbsp; Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.&nbsp; The mob used to do things like that, but they were cheaper and more trustworthy.&nbsp; So, I said no the first time and they broke my goddamn window.&nbsp; They come back a week later, and I pay them, and they still break another window.&nbsp; I asked them what they hell they were thinking, but they just laughed.&nbsp; Punks.<br><br>“Now, I’m on the verge of just offing them myself.&nbsp; There’s no way I’d win a fight, but I can just drop a grenade into one of their little alley hideouts and paste a few of them to the wall. But I really, really don’t want to resort to that; I’ve been a nice person since the war, and I don’t think Saint Peter would much appreciate vigilantism.&nbsp; So, can you teach them a lesson?&nbsp;&nbsp; They don’t look that strong, even.&nbsp; My store is two miles southeast, at the corner of Gregory and eleventh.&nbsp; Please, you have to help me."<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>11-10-2008, 22:29:02</strong>
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				My blood chills just a little bit at the name, though I push it off as the sweet and slightly deranged old man continues rambling.&nbsp; <em>Blood Hounds</em>.&nbsp; Punks he named them and punks they were, but punks with a rather <em>nasty</em> reputation for the ways they dealt with those who 'crossed' them.&nbsp; Bumping into one on the street was just as likely to get you stabbed as it was to get you flipped off.<br><br>Violence was out.&nbsp; Even if it had been <em>possible</em> to kill off the entire gang it would raise too many problems with the police, and nothing short of that would convince them to break off once the first blood had been spilt.&nbsp; No, blood shed had to be avoided at all costs.&nbsp; Reason fell by the wayside as well as I turned the problem over in my mind.&nbsp; Simply trying to talk to them was as futile as a mouse trying to explain to a cat how she was bad for it's cholesterol.&nbsp; No, if reason was possible it would never have reached me.<br><br>For a moment I considered dropping it.&nbsp; The last option was too dangerous, far too risky if things went wrong, which they most likely would.&nbsp; Considered handing the old man back his money, pushing him firmly out the door and slamming it behind him.&nbsp; Dad was right; some people you just can't help, the quicksand they were trapped in just too high, their heads sinking far too fast.&nbsp; But as I looked into the old man's almost pleading eyes, the last of my resistance crumbled and I was left with only one real option.<br><br><em>Bluff</em>.&nbsp; Turning back to the old man, I pat his hand affectionately and smile with a reassurance that I don't feel myself "I'll start tonight, sir."<br><br>_____________________<br><br><em>I really do hate stakeouts</em> - I thought as I nibbled lightly on the stale fruit bar, leaning back into the soft leather of the car seat. -<em>They take bloody</em> forever <em>and I always end up gaining a few pounds from all the munchies.</em><br><br>Smiling slightly, I let myself relax a bit more into the comfortable seat as my eyes remained fixed on the soft lights of the old man's store in the fading evening light.&nbsp; Just the normal steady stream of customers passing through the simple shop's door; hell, not even a quarrelling couple to break the monotony.&nbsp; Parked a block and a half away in front of an abandoned apartment building my fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel.&nbsp; The simple mp3 player that carried me through most of these long hours was charging, it's small indicator still glowing softly amber as it leeched off the beat up junker's battery.<br><br><em>Hope something interesting happens soon.</em> - I vaguely wish as the last rays of daylight disappear behind the skyline.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 00:31:30</strong>
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				The sun set over Saint Laurence, signaling the daily shift of control from the law abiding citizens to the dark and unruly gangs.&nbsp; It was a reverse curfew, of sorts, enforced on the decaying border districts as one of the few conditions of the uneasy peace between government and gangs.<br><br>The shades of red worn by each man and woman signaled it as Blood Hounds territory.&nbsp; The gangbangers strode around with utmost confidence as if they owned the place. For all intents, they did, the police unwilling or unable to strike back against their ever increasing brutality.<br><br>As the gang filled the streets, sipping from bottles and smoking on joints, a hierarchy could be seen, the men always leading the women by just a few paces.&nbsp; Closer glance revealed the reason why; the women were being pulled along on leashes, connected to the crimson dog collars that encircled their necks.&nbsp; <br><br>Soon, the mob thickened around the corner grocery store.&nbsp; The lights were out and the security gate prevented access, but it did nothing to keep the mob from doing their work.&nbsp; With baseball bats and crowbars, they prodded through the holes in gating to break the windows, one-by-one, until no more damage could be done to the old man’s store.&nbsp; The grocer had paid his dues, but to the Blood Hounds, that meant nothing.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 01:22:49</strong>
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				My skin began to crawl as the light faded, and the shadows of the city emerged from their hiding holes with all the confidence of those who truly did own the night.&nbsp; I watched with mild interest as the streets began to fill with men and women wearing Blood Hound colors.&nbsp; They wore the simple outfits of most gangbangers; the muscle t-shirts and ripped jeans for the men and ass hugging shorts and barely covering tops for the women.<br><br>My expert eyes ran over the various gang members, carefully picking out the concealed knives, pistols, even sub machine guns tucked away beneath baggy clothes.&nbsp; Dad had always said it was even more important to know what the other side was packing than to be packing yourself.&nbsp; The baseball bats, crowbars, and other toys the gang bangers carried were mainly for show; it had been a long time since a gang war in Saint Laurence was settled with anything other than hollow points.&nbsp; A surprisingly high number of the women were armed as well, given their submissive demeanor as they were led by their ‘masters’.&nbsp; Feeling my stomach turn at seeing <em>anyone </em>being treated that way I kept my gaze fixed on the store.<br><br>Sighing as the crowd grew around the closed grocer’s shop I slowly rose out of the car, taking the time to shut the door quietly and straighten my overcoat against the chilly fall evening.&nbsp; It was with measured and unfaltering steps that I made my way across the street, despite the rapid thudding of my heart beating deep in my chest,&nbsp; as the first of the windows were smashed in with a crash.<br><br>The violence was quick and nearly silent, not accompanied by the normal cheers and screamed encouragements that most gangs indulged in.&nbsp; The Blood Hounds knew their business, as close to professionals as street punks could get and I felt a brief surge of respect as I leaned against a lamppost across from the store.&nbsp; Picking out the leader wasn’t difficult at all.&nbsp; Not necessarily the biggest but certainly the meanest looking hombre I watched as he directed the mayhem, his tattooed fist wrapped around the leashes to three trembling women.<br><br><em>Fresh meat for the gang.&nbsp; Leader always gets first picks –</em> I thought with only mild distaste, noting as several gang members turned and saw they had an audience.<br><br>The jeers and catcalls began as I finally walked towards them, the weight of the .38 against my ribs almost comforting compared to the leaden weight of my heart.&nbsp; This was by far the most dangerous part.&nbsp; The razor’s edge that I was about to dance on could easily leave me one of the many corpses that the SLPD collected with the dawn of each new morning.<br><br>Affecting a casual, almost bored look, I let my eyes wander over the crowd, carefully <em>not </em>taking note of the leader as I spoke in a flat iron voice “Who’s in charge here?”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 01:59:02</strong>
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				“That would be me,” boasted a bald and burly Hispanic in a red wife beater.&nbsp; He spread his arms as if to present himself to gang and guest alike. Subtle scars traced up and down his bare arms from whatever rituals and rivals he had to best to claim his title of leadership.&nbsp; A pistol stuck out from his pants, clearly shoved in with no attempt to conceal it.&nbsp; He stepped towards the detective and tugged on the leashes clenched tightly in his hand before letting go, allowing them to swing down and weigh against the girl’s tank tops.&nbsp; His cohorts parted around him as he stepped towards the unwelcome intruder.&nbsp; “What’s a bitch like you doin’ wandering around without her master?”
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 08:40:09</strong>
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				I keep my back very carefully to the apartment building behind me, making a show of keeping my head tucked down as if I'm trying to avoid being seen by anyone in the windows.<br><br>"Giving a neighbor a bit of advice." I say softly, avoiding any chance of him reading a challenge in my eyes or my body language by keeping my sight firmly focused near his feet "Third floor, fourth window from the right, see it?"<br><br>I wait for several moments as his eyes reflexively look upward, searching the indicated spot before I whisper "Feds."<br><br>I keep from grinning at the uncertain hiss that runs through his followers, though the leader barely flinches "Not sure what they've got under surveillance or why but they've been posted up there for almost a week now.&nbsp; Fuchini, " another hidden smile as I name one of the Caparoni Family's most notorious bosses " asked me to keep an eye on them for the last few days."<br><br>Now for the hard part of the bluff.&nbsp; Selling the action you want your mark to take, making him or her think that it was <em>their</em> idea to do what you wanted.&nbsp; Especially with a man like this.<br><br>"Now, you want to destroy some old guy's business, hey no skin off my nose.&nbsp; But with Federales watching every move made on this block?" I smile and raise my open hands in a helpless gesture "I'd bet you boys against any damn Feds anytime." a small, halfhearted cheer from the gang members "But a war between you and them wouldn't do any of us good.&nbsp; Even if you won, you'd be hurt, and someone like Fuchini would just love to hit you boys while you're down.&nbsp; And them having complete control puts <em>me</em> out of business as well."<br><br>I'm talking faster, hoping he doesn't spot the flaws in my logic, doesn't think to question the BS I'm feeding him "Now it's up to you, you're the big man here but I thought I'd be a good neighbor and let you in on it.&nbsp; Thanks, friend." I smile as I bow slightly and turn to walk away, my heart hardly daring to beat.<br><br>Playing a gang leader for a sucker is always dangerous, but it works because very few people are crazy or stupid enough to try it.&nbsp; Even the biggest gangs didn't want to mess with either the Feds or the Families.&nbsp; Their operations were large enough that they could hold off entire precincts of regular cops if need be . . . . but the government and the Mafia operated on a whole different plane.&nbsp; Any gang banger that had more than two brain cells to rub together didn't want to piss either of them off, much less <em>both</em> of them at the same time.&nbsp; And I'd appealed to the most powerful of motivators for a gang leader; <em>fear</em>.&nbsp; Both a tool that they used to keep their boys in line and something they themselves always labored under, <em>fear</em> was their constant companion.<br><br>Now all that remained was to see if my play had worked.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 15:19:25</strong>
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				The gang leader mulls over the woman's advice, his arms folded across the chest.&nbsp; He glances around from building to building, friend to friend, then straight into the woman's eyes, never once pausing or showing any sign of vulnerability.<br><br>"Fuchini hired you?"<br><br>He turned back towards his friend. Hushed whispers flew back and forth.&nbsp; Moments later, his friends start to disperse.&nbsp; <br><br>Satisfied that they had reached a plan, the leader stepped up to Traci.&nbsp; She was taller than him, but he wasn’t looking at her face. “Sorry, but if the feds were interested in stopping us, they would have done it long ago.”&nbsp; He reached an arm around her and pulled her closer, burying his face in her shirt between her tits.&nbsp; “Ah, but thinking isn’t your strong point, is it?&nbsp; We could really use some more white bitches around here.”&nbsp; He began to fondle her young and supple body with his huge tattooed hands. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>12-10-2008, 21:02:56</strong>
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				"Fuchini hired you?"<br><br>The question stopped my cold, a small shiver running up and down my spine at the confidence in it's tone.&nbsp; I watch as the gang disperses, each of them sauntering off without a care in the world at the leader's nod.&nbsp; My eyes snap back to him though as he lumbers up to me, his beady eyes fixed upward on mine.&nbsp; I can see naked lust in them, the hunger that flows through most men when they're about to do something incredibly <em>stupid</em>.<br><br>His eyes drift down over me; drinking in the swell of my breasts, my top undone for the few few buttons, revealing smooth tanned skin and the tops of my black bra.&nbsp; Over my slim waist and down my shapely legs before returning to my face with a grin.<br><br>“Sorry, but if the feds were interested in stopping us, they would have done it long ago.”<br><br>"They could be just . . ohh!"<br><br>With that his arm, surprisingly fast for such a burly man, snaked around my waist, slipping underneath my coat to grab me and drag me to him.&nbsp; I manage not to gasp in surprise as he buries his face in my ample bosom, enjoying the soft weight of my tits through the shirt as his hands grope and fondle my ass through the jeans.&nbsp; I manage to shift my weight to keep both his questing hands and eyes away from the gun but it's a hard thing as his hands roam further and further along my body.<br><br>I bite back both a groan and a snarl as he molests me,&nbsp; “Ah, but thinking isn’t your strong point, is it?&nbsp; We could really use some more white bitches around here.” he chuckles as he pops open several more buttons with one hand, inhaling my sweet scent as he buries his face again in my more exposed cleavage.<br><br><em>Damn</em> - I curse in my mind - <em>Of course I had to run into a gang leader horny enough to not care what Fichini would do to anyone who fucked</em> (literally or figuratively) <em>with one of his employees.</em><br><br>The gang is still leaving, though several grin apreciatevly as their leader fearlessly gropes the tall amazon woman.&nbsp; There's too many for me to butt stroke this idiot like he deserves.&nbsp; But he<em> did</em> order the gang away first, which gives me a chance.&nbsp; Not a good one, but a chance.<br><br>I put on my best aroused and sultry mask, giggling as the stubble on his chin rubs against my smooth skin "Not here, hon." a quick jerk of the head to a nearby alley, in the opposite direction from where most of the gang is headed, it's dark depths perfect for what I'm going to have to do "In there.&nbsp; We can have some fun, big boy."<br><br>Wraping my slim hands around his massive paws, I pull him slowly towards the alley mouth, mind a blur.&nbsp; The plan was mainly fragged.&nbsp; Caution, pure self preserving instinct, should have convinced them to go find some other shop keep to torment.&nbsp; To not attempt to cross the big boys.&nbsp; He hadn't bought it, at least not completely and I was in quite a bit of danger at the moment.&nbsp; Just because he wanted me alone with him at the moment didn't mean he wasn't going to share his 'prize' with his men later and my summoned the image of me hand cuffed and thrown down across the hood of a car, each man taking their time with my helpless body.&nbsp; Of a life in a hotel room, hands and feet bound to the filthy bed as an endless stream of foul rapists enjoying me.&nbsp; The thoughts sent another icy chill racing up and down my spine.<br><br>But, if I could get him alone, away from the rest of them, my options opened up significantly.&nbsp; I doubted he'd be satisfied with a simple fuck, and most certainly not with the customary blow or tit job I sometimes used leiu of money with informants.&nbsp; But if he pressed, well, the cold weight of the .38 was reassuring against my side.<br><br>Pressing his hands to my tight ass I smile as I continue to drag him into the welcoming blackness, soft promise in my eyes "What do you want to do to me?" I whisper sexily.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 00:38:07</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“An alley way?&nbsp; Come on, girl, show some class.”&nbsp; He grabbed her wrist tightly and tugged her along the sidewalk.&nbsp; <br><br>Her body jerked towards him and she stumbled to keep up.<br><br>“It’s just over here,” he said as they turned onto a residential street.&nbsp; “I keep an apartment nearby.&nbsp; You know, for ‘convenience’.&nbsp; He laughed menacingly, believing he had cleverly chosen his words.<br><br>His fellow gang members watched them the entire way, but did not follow, knowing full well that he never shared his scraps with subordinates.&nbsp; Together, the leader and his guest disappeared into an apartment building and up a flight of stairs.&nbsp; They entered the first door on the right into a small, rundown studio.<br><br>&nbsp; The floral and yellowed wallpaper peeled at its seams, revealing the cracked plaster walls beneath it.&nbsp; Food&nbsp; boxes littered the floor, and the sink overflowed with unclean dishes.&nbsp; A cockroach scuttled along the floor and disappeared in to a crack.<br><br>“Do you like it?&nbsp; I found the keys to it on some guys corpse a few weeks ago.”&nbsp; The gang leader locked the door behind him, then tugged his prey closer to the center of the room, towards an old and discolored mattress.<br><br>The stains were a variety of colors—some clear, some yellow, and—most prominently—crimson red.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 01:44:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				My heart, already cold and leaden, turns into a solid ball of ice at the sight of the blood soaked mattress.&nbsp; Panic threatens to well up in me, but I <em>barely</em> manage to keep the tremor out of my voice as I pretend not to see it, wrapping my arms around his thick neck and meeting his lips with a kiss.<br><br>"Hmmmm," I murmur as he responds, his filthy hands slipping into my open top, pushing my bra aside to cup and squeeze my breasts.<br><br><em>The</em> only <em>good thing about this whole</em> fucked <em>up situation is he left his bangers behind</em> - I manage to think through the haze of fear <em>- He's alone.&nbsp; And even if there are others in the complex, if I can take him down, I can get out.&nbsp; But it'll be better if I can just slip away.</em><br><br>I press my forehead against his with a small breathless sigh as I break the kiss "Hey, honey.&nbsp; How about you let me freshen up real quick before we get down to 'business'?" I ask with a small nod to the bathroom just off the main room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 01:53:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He loosens his grip and takes a step back.&nbsp; “Finally, a classy bitch that shows some interest in basic-fucking-hygiene!” he says, his voice revealing his gratitude.&nbsp; “You wouldn’t believe the filthy shit I have to do to get those skanks ready for work.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 02:03:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I hid my trembling sigh of relief as I kissed him again "I'll just be a minute, hon." I whisper seductively as I saunter over to the bathroom, smiling at him once more before I close the door and attempt to lock it.<br><br>As I press my back against the door, I let out a long shuddering sigh of relief, my muscles trembling in barely surpressed terror.<br><br><em>Damn shopkeep can kill em all with my blessings.&nbsp; But for now, I'm out of here.</em> I say as I draw my snub nosed .38, glancing around the bathroom quickly before moving to the window and as silently as I can, try and force it open.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 02:27:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>The gang leader scrounged around the disarrayed room, looking for something to help the mood.&nbsp; He checked the boxes and bags one-by-one and threw them to side until he found exactly what he was looking for—a half smoked joint from three nights prior.<br><br>He walked to the stove, bent over, breathed in, and turned on the stove, lighting the cigarette.&nbsp; He breathed in deeply and slowly to savor the taste and held it in his lungs for half-a-minute.<br><br>By the time the joint was gone, so was his prize.&nbsp; <br><br>“Fuck… he muttered to himself.&nbsp; He stumbled back into the room and collapsed onto the mattress, face down.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 02:57:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I scrambled down the rickety fire escape outside the window with indecent haste, droping the last eight feet to thud lightly on the trash carpeted alley.&nbsp; Still no alarms, no cries or bellows of outrage at my escape.&nbsp; Breathing a sigh of relief, I slipped the pistol back into my jacket, and made my way back to the car.<br><br>Once I was inside, I collapsed against the wheel with a shuddering sigh, my mouth working slightly and my whole body trembling as the panic I hadn't let myself feel in that horrible room surfaced with full and unrelenting force.<br><br><em>You stupid, stupid</em> STUPID <em>girl! - </em>I almost screamed at myself, pounding a closed fist against the dash <em> - You could have gotten yourself KILLED!&nbsp; And for what?&nbsp; So some crazy shop owner could spend a few nights in peace until some other stupid banger decided to kill him?&nbsp; You're not going to save the world, Traci.</em> - the voice whispered in her ear <em>- Just give up.&nbsp; Find some other line of work, girl.</em><br><br>I grit my teeth as I tell the small corner of my mind, very politely mind you, to go jump off a bridge.&nbsp; Feeling, if not good, at least much better as the voice falls silent, I start the car and set off for home.<br><br><em>I need a </em>really <em>long shower after this one.&nbsp; Hell, maybe even a drink.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 15:37:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As night fell on the lonely detective agency, a letter was slipped beneath the door.&nbsp; Written on pink stationary and scented heavily with perfume, it contained the following:<br><br><em>Dear Thomas Hawkins,<br><br>You helped me many years ago when I suspected my sister’s husband of infedility, and I am once again in need of your services.&nbsp; Please, find my daughter!&nbsp; She’s a freshman at the Frederick College, and she never returned home from class last Wednesday.&nbsp; The police aren’t of any help.&nbsp; They say she jus ran away, but I know that’s a lie!<br><br>Her name is Francesca Connor, and she’s the youngest member of our family.&nbsp; Five-foot-seven, one-hundred-and-twenty-five pounds, and has a very slim build.&nbsp; She’s the academic type, and we’re so very, very proud of her.&nbsp; She’d never do anything to make us worry like this, which is why I think the police are hiding something.<br><br>I waited around for you for hours, but you never showed up at the office.&nbsp; Please call me at *** **** so I can meet with you in person.&nbsp; <br><br>Love,<br>Cindy Connor</em><br><br>Frederick College, the most esteemed private colleges in the metropolitan area.&nbsp; The girl’s mere enrollment was testament to her family’s wealth, and an ample sign of the huge reward that was awaiting the detective if she could complete the assignment.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>Enclosed with the letter are two photographs, both featuring the missing young woman.&nbsp; She looks gentle and pure, her long brown hair flowing down her cheeks and onto her shoulders.&nbsp; A perfect smile graces her face.&nbsp; She is wearing a tight sweater that accentuates her bust.<br><br>The other photograph shows her alongside her mother.&nbsp; Though they both have the same slender face and piercing green eyes, the mother’s face is frozen in a stern glare of dissatisfaction, as if something were consistently crossing her.&nbsp; A band of huge pearls dangles around her thin neck, and her sleek and fashionable dress further portrays the family’s great wealth.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>13-10-2008, 23:59:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I stare down at the photograph as I get out of the car, parked just a quarter mile away from the Frederick College campus, coat closed tightly against the brisk October wind.<br><br><em>Hmm, wonder if I would have turned out like her.</em>- I wonder as I make my way along the street - <em>Different parents, different life.&nbsp; Doubtful though, I'd probably go insane with all that pampering and wealth.</em> - I chuckle at the thought of <em>me</em> dressed in those fine clothes.<br><br>Dressed in a tight fitting black windbreaker over a simple white shirt, with a pair of old and worn jeans and equally beaten up tennis shoes my hair is let down and whipping in the strong breeze.&nbsp; All carefully crafted to present a rather good imitation of a young college student.&nbsp; The backpack, laden with random old clothes from a local store, completes the disguise, though the familiar weight of my gun resting near the base of the pile would have ruined the illusion if seen.<br><br>The first 48 hours were the most important in any kidnapping case, and they were already long gone, along with the cops that had performed a cursory investigation before signing off with that single word that damned any case.&nbsp; "Runaway."&nbsp; An old friend in Vice managed to pull a few strings to let me take a peek at the file, and the reading wasn't encouraging.&nbsp; The chances of me turning up anything after almost a full week had gone by were remote, but it was better than passing up the work.<br><br>Reaching into my pocket I flipped open my new wallet, staring at my new identity with a grin - <em>Damn, but Amelia does good work.</em>-<br><br>Amanda Earnhart.&nbsp; A young woman from rural Ohio who happened to be a new recipient of the rarely granted Frederick's Foundations Scholarship (without the College's knowledge, of course).&nbsp; The cover wouldn't hold for more than a few days but that would be more than enough for me to find out what I needed without resorting to official challenges.&nbsp; The College was incredibly protective of it's students from the 'officious busy body police' and would have turned up their nose at a mere PI snooping around.&nbsp; But a new transfer, an uncloth and 'unmoneyed' girl seeking to find out what happened to a recently missing girl wouldn't raise a single red flag.&nbsp; <br><br>Shaking off the small premonitory chill I strode onto the Campus, all bright eyed and full of wonder as any good country girl should be when confronted with a bastion of civilization as I made my way to the dorms.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 05:43:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dahlia Meadows anticipated the arrival of her new roommate.&nbsp; The Residential Advisor had told her to make the new girl feel welcome, and the perky sorority girl did just that.&nbsp; At five-seven, the black-haired and freckled sorority girl was an expert at fluffy and immaterial greetings.&nbsp; Her natural ability was already proving to be one of her greatest assets, as combined with her physical allure it served to distract people from what actually mattered.&nbsp; There was a successful career in business waiting for her at daddy’s bank, after all, and she had to prove to him that being a sorority girl taught her more than just how to fuck and get wasted-- not necessarily in that order.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new roommate seemed like a perfect match until she opened her mouth.&nbsp; Question after question, Dahlia was pushed and pulled into answering the endlessly inane and asinine questions.&nbsp; Trivialities such as ‘Where’s the bookstore?’ and ‘Who do I talk to about scheduling?’ soon gave way into more meaningful questions about now missing Francesca Connor.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Franny and I didn’t get along much,” she answered to the increasingly prying interrogation.&nbsp; “No, I don’t know where she went.&nbsp; She was a bit of a nerd, really.&nbsp; Never went out, never even tried to join a sorority like I did, not like the Mu Iota would want her.&nbsp; Why am I living in the dorms?&nbsp; Not much room for a sorority house in the city.&nbsp; Some of the sisters have a place, but its too tiny for us all.&nbsp; &nbsp;No, I don’t think Franny had any enemies.&nbsp; I think she did Quiz Bowl… and maybe one of the feminist’s groups, but I could be mistaken about that.&nbsp; Her research advisor?&nbsp; Um… you don’t pick an advisor when you’re just a first year.&nbsp; Oh, she was in room 418, with that Asian girl.&nbsp; However her name is pronounced."<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dahlia was on the verge of screaming in frustration, but her calculated persona would not allow such an expression of emotion.&nbsp; Her salvation and release would have to come elsewhere, and it soon did.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A knock came at the door, and a slightly chubby bold girl poked her head into the dorm room.&nbsp; “Is this the new girl?”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Sure is,” answered Dahlia, backing away slowly to cede her RA to the girl’s incessant barrage of questions.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Do you mind if I get a picture of you?” asked the pudgy RA.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dahlia watched as the two entered into the hallway.&nbsp; The flash snapped, but Julia Heim shook the Polaroid camera in frustration.&nbsp; “Damnit, that picture didn’t come out right,” she said as she slipped the still developing photo into her pocket “Let me take another.”&nbsp; The flash lit again, and the decrepit old camera spat out another picture of Worrell Hall’s newest resident.&nbsp; “Perfect.&nbsp; Now let’s put it up on the bulletin board.&nbsp; Here, I’ll show you.”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ten minutes later, Amanda Earnhart returned to the dorm room.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“That’s your closet, that’s your dresser, and you have the bed near the window.&nbsp; I have a sorority meeting in a bit, so if you have any other questions, just write them on the white board.&nbsp; Oh, and make sure you meet with the head of your department, whatever it is.”&nbsp; She rushed out the door before she could get waylaid by even more questioning.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 06:22:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I lay on the <em>incredibly</em> uncomfortable dorm bed, staring up at the bland ceiling, and fought not to sigh in frustration.&nbsp; I suppose it might have been too much to hope that the person I was assigned to room with would be Conner's bosom friend, filled with grief over her friends disappearance and overflowing with knowledge about the girl's personal life.&nbsp; Hadn't kept me from hoping it though.<br><br>Dahlia had been a nearly complete wash so far as information about Francesca went, though she seemed to have a near <em>limitless</em> knowledge of the social circles on campus given how she had gabbed on with a friend on her cell phone.&nbsp; It had taken a great deal of 'Amanda's' self control to not take the damn thing and choke her with it.&nbsp; But she had given me a few clues, and a few new ideas.<br><br>The first was having Amelia check Francesca's club associations and cross check the names against each of the lists, to try and find a list of possible friends.&nbsp; Her mother had been unable to help her on that, and without Dahlia as a link into Francesca's circle of friends I was pretty much at square one.&nbsp; If the search turned up nothing, I could always try and talk to each member of the respective groups, though that was a damned hard thing for 'Amelia' to do.&nbsp; It would raise suspicions and that was one thing I couldn't allow.<br><br>Second was to talk to the head of whatever department Connors had fallen under.&nbsp; Even if it was just background information, it might prove to be invaluable in getting into the girl's mind.<br><br>The last was Francesca's room.&nbsp; Doubtless the police had given it at least a cursory search but without the limit of a search warrant, the information <em>I</em> could get would be much greater.&nbsp; The hardest part would be her roommate, whatever her name was.&nbsp; I'd be very surprised if the girl wasn't at least a <em>bit</em> suspicious of anyone asking questions about her recently disapeared roommate . . . if she wasn't involved in it herself.<br><br>Pulling out my cell, I sent a quick text to Amelia asking for a list of social clubs that Francesca had been a part of as well as any names she could dig up.&nbsp; It was a decently tall order, but I had faith in her.&nbsp; As I thought about it, the idea of getting into that apartment was more and more appealing; and the idea of waiting around twiddling my thumbs became noticeably LESS.&nbsp; Rolling out of the bed and slipping back on my windbreaker, I left the room to make my way to 'Franny's' home away from home.<br><br>Reaching the door to 418 I knocked softly, surprisingly nervous as I shifted my feet, feeling exposed out here in the hallway, listening carefully for any sign that her roommate happened to be in.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 06:26:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I looked around in confusion, lost in a sea of figures far taller then me. Nearly constantly I called for mommy and daddy, and yet, they didn't come, didn't answer... I had no idea where to go, what to do, this airport, a bustling cavern of steel and cement, was forign to me, nothing like the small house and the rice paddy that had defined home for so many years. Just minutes ago, I had been excited, so much so that I pulled away from mommy, running off to see whatever it was that had caught my eye. But I had run too fast, and now, I couldn't seem to find my way back to her. A strange man stopped in front of me, a kind smile on his face as he offered a hand, but he was speaking gibberish, and something about the look in his eyes scared me. To my great relief, just then, daddy found me, houisting me up, and thanking the strange man as he quickly carried me back to mo-<br><br>Always a light sleeper, I bolted upright, glancing around in confusion for a moment, not in my bed, and trying to figure out why. I let out a sigh as I finally oriented myself, my chair pulled up to the small desk I used for studying. The secondhand laptop my parents scraped together to buy for me as a graduation present was humming quietly, and several windows were open, showing Francesca's schedule, several older missing persons articles, and in a word processor window, my notes on what I'd shown so far.<br><br>Well, it had shown my notes anyway. No, it looked as though they'd been pushed off screen by several pages of lowercase k's, the result, I belatedly realized, of my unintentional use of my keyboard as a pillow. Sighing, I hoped that it hadn't left too much of a mark on my face.<br><br>Closing the lid of the laptop for the moment, I looked around the room, trying to figure out just what had caused me to awaken. My eyes scanned my old, cheap alarm clock, and Francisca's shiny new one, her ipod still sitting in the dock on top, right where she left it while leaving for class after she realized the battery was dead. Quickly ruling out them, or any sort of disaster, I got unsteadily to my feet, the short, uncomfortable nap having done little to make up for my lack of sleep the last few days. <br><br>I padded across the room bare footed, clumsily adjusting my old high school track T-shirt, tugging at my pajama pants as well. Too tired to worry about my appearance, I undid the lock on the door, pulling it open just a crack and peeking out into the hallway to see if something out there had been what woke me.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>15-10-2008, 19:51:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I put a sad, apologetic smile on my face as the door opens, suddenly much more genuine as I see the slim girl beyond.<br><br><em>God, she looks like crap. - </em>was the first thought that crossed my mind as my eyes fell on the dark circles around her eyes, the way her shoulders drooped slightly beneath an old t-shirt.&nbsp; I doubted the girl had slept more than four hours in the last fifty and put on my best comforting smile in response.<br><br>"Hey," I speak softly "I'm really sorry, but I'm Francesca's cousin, Amanda." offering my hand through the barely open door "I was supposed to come up at the start of the semester but family stuff interfered and . . ." a helpless shrug of the shoulders and a wistful smile "Frannie was going to show me around campus when I got here, said she'd 'show me a night on the town' even . . . well, her Mom told me about what happened and asked me to come collect her stuff."<br><br>I shift my feet nervously and stare at the ground, all the country bumpkin well out of her depth, and truth be told I <em>am</em> nervous.&nbsp; I never enjoy lying to people, however decent I may have gotten at it, but my stomach ties itself in knots as the words pass my lips to <em>this</em> girl.&nbsp; Maybe it was just her vulnerable looking state but I felt a genuine flash of pity and empathy for the obviously distraught young woman as I looked up into her eyes.<br><br>"Can I come in?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 05:34:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I stare blankly for a moment at the unfamiliar woman in the doorway, blinking several times, trying to figure out if I should recognize her from somewhere. Nodding a little as she speaks, I open the door a little wider, stepping back and allowing her to enter, looking away as I think over what she's saying.<br><br>"Sure, um... come in, come in... um, sorry about the mess, but things have been a little... y'know, kinda weird the last couple days..." I blush a bit motioning to the pile of papers and the half empty backpack on Francesca's bed<br><br>"I... she didn't leave things like that, she was messy, but not that messy... I just... I went through some of it, but... it's all there still, I promise!" She looks down for a moment "I was... kinda hoping to find some note or something, y'know, proof that she really did just run away, but..."<br><br>I slump down on my desk chair, motioning to it's pair across the room for my guest "But thats bullshit, honestly... Frannie complained about things here sometimes, but she wouldn't just up and leave..." I pause for a moment "Not without telling me at least, I hope..."<br><br>I force a smile, looking up at the woman again "S'funny... Frannie never mentioned a cousin... of course, she didn't talk about her family much, but I woulda thought she would at least... um... sorry, I'm sure this is hard for you too, I'm just rambling a bit..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>17-10-2008, 05:56:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I smile at the exhausted girl, ordering myself not to walk over to her and wrap my arms around her, to tell her that everything will be alright.&nbsp; Not that I don't <em>want</em> to but there's business to deal with here.<br><br>"My mom and Frannie's had a falling out a long time ago." a sad smile as I pick up one of Frannie's photos -<em>Cute kid.&nbsp; I really do hope she's alright</em>- "This was actually going to be my first chance to meet her.&nbsp; I was really looking forward to it."<br><br>I start sliding the papers into Frannie's backpack, taking only a brief moment to skim over each as it passes under my fingers.&nbsp; Lots of bad grades stamped on a variety of papers for an English class as well as a Chemistry one; the professor's name across the top and the paper crisscrossed with red ink for both sets.&nbsp; <em>Wright and Drow</em>.&nbsp; I file the possible lead away along with the papers, taking a few of the pictures and knick nacks that might be of use and will fit in the bag.<br><br>Turning back, I look at the still half asleep girl and with a barely audible sigh I give into my urge.&nbsp; Kneeling down next to her chair I slide my arms around her,&nbsp; hugging her tightly but gently "I'm sure Frannie's fine.&nbsp; From what my mom told me she sounds like a tough girl and . . . " words fail me and I simply hug her tighter for a few more moments "You two were close?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>28-10-2008, 18:10:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I lean forward, elbows on my knees, nodding a little as the woman speaks, blinking a couple times as I struggle to at least appear to be awake, although I'm unable to stifle a short yawn. Hearing the woman's family history, I can't help but smile a little.<br><br>"Well, you... I mean, I feel sorry for you... I mean, Frannie... Frannie is great, she's just a nice person, you're lucky to have... to have a cousin like her..."<br><br>I ball my hands into fists, looking angry for a moment, staring at the floor as the woman looks through my roommate's papers. "A really nice person... she... she dosn't deserve anything bad to happen to her... I can't understand why anyone... why they would...."<br><br>I trail off, shutting my eyes for a moment, although they shoot open at the hug, looking suprised, stammering a little "I... y-yeah, you're right, it... it hasn't been that long, after all..." I smile again at the question, nodding, leaning against the woman, a bit embarressed by the hug, but grateful for it non the less "Y-yeah... she's... been a really good friend, I mean, we're not really in the same social circles or anything, but she's always been just great..." <br><br>I giggle a bit "I mean, back at the start of the semester, I was having trouble with all the financial aid paperwork, and I couldn't get it in time to get one of my books... I was complaining about it to Frannie... and... she just went out and bought it for me, told me I could pay her back whenever I could afford it..." Trailing off, I bite my lip, realizing that I'm starting to ramble again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>mdazfrench</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 22:50:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"'Not in the same social circles'?" I ask as I slip the last of it into the pack, carefully not noting the slightly pained expression on the girl's face as I slip the strap over my shoulder "What kind of people did Frannie hang around with?"<br><br>It really isn't fair, not with the her like this; only half awake and still longing to wake up and see her friend again.&nbsp; The possibility of a romantic involvement of the two flashes across my mind, and I discard it just about as quickly.&nbsp; Not that the asian girl wasn't cute, on the contrary she had fine beauty to her, an exotic allure that she exuded almost unconsciously.&nbsp; No, she was worried about the girl that had been kind to her, her <em>friend</em>.<br><br>And so I finally gave in.&nbsp; Kneeling down next to her I wrap my arms around her slim shoulders, hugging her tightly for a few long moments before speaking softly "I'll find her, don't worry."<br><br>Standing back up I shuffle the bag nervously on my back, walking back towards the door "I'm just downstairs." I give her the room number "If you ever need to talk or anything . . ." I manage, my cheeks flushing before I move to leave through the door.&nbsp; This was incredibly stupid, an exposure and risk I most <em>certainly</em> did not need yet another complication.&nbsp; But all that was weak rationalization against the girl's naked need.<br><br>"If you need <em>anything</em>, let me know." I say before darting quickly out the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>01-11-2008, 07:09:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The start of a friendship sparked between those two women in room 418 of Worrell Hall.&nbsp; They had little in common save for their investment in the missing heiress, yet their reasons were distinct.&nbsp; If only they knew where the poor girl was being kept...<br><br><div align="center">=</div><br>Miles away, a young woman's head bobbed back and forth along the stiff cock of a masked client.&nbsp; He grinned and laughed as he pushed the servant's head down further along his length, deeply proud to have won a chance with the most desirable new worker.&nbsp; Everybody in the club knew who Francesca Connor was, even before she disappeared to minor media attention.&nbsp; Though her face was caked with far more makeup than she ever wore her days of freedom, and her thick glass removed for aesthetic reasons, she was still immediately recognizable as the only daughter of very hated man.<br><br>Her red lingerie, stockings, and pumps drew attention to her figure.&nbsp; She always thought of her body as decent, but the lecherous glares and grabs of the club's clientele made her second guess her attractiveness.&nbsp; She was the newest star, after all, and all eyes were on her. If any of the participants noticed the immense sadness that lurked beneath the layers of makeup, they either pretended to not notice, or took sadistic satisfaction at the poor girl's mental and physical degradation.<br><br>She was not the first girl to be ensnared in their grasp, nor would she be their last.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>02-11-2008, 15:35:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dahlia Meadow stood in the dorm hallway and looked down at her list.&nbsp; It was a short list, but that was the point.&nbsp; The rejects and loners that populated the chart were the type of people Mu Iota would never allow within their ranks.&nbsp; However, the sorority president knew that there was always room on the bottom, whether it be in the sorority complex or elsewhere.<br><br>Dahlia knew that Kim Lorenz was not pleased with the recent budget problems.&nbsp; Too many parties and not enough revenue, a simple fact that she never shut up about.&nbsp; T<em>his </em> was Dahlia's chance to right her course and get in on the good graces of the sorority leaders.&nbsp; All she had to do was lure a few rejects into the sorority and reap the rewards.<br><br>Next on her list was Soo-Min Soung, an asian girl that she had only ever seen a few times around the dorm.&nbsp; Soo-Min was in no way the standard Mu Iota material.&nbsp; However, she had a small and tight body, a trait that would be quite valuable with the proper training.&nbsp; Dahlia imagined the girl, dressed in leather, stocking, lipstick, earrings-- Everything that the girl had purposely avoided.&nbsp; And she liked what she saw in her mind's eye. <br><br>Dahlia knocked enthusaistically on the door and put on her perfect smile.&nbsp; "Good morning, Soo-Min.&nbsp; Our sorority has picked you out as an candidate for our sorority.&nbsp; It would mean a lot to us if you swung by the apartment at seven."&nbsp; She handed over a Mu Iota card which listed the complex' address.&nbsp; "Please, come visit us and become an Iota.&nbsp; You'd be <em>perfect</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>04-11-2008, 06:35:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I rubbed my eyes sleepily, leaning against the door after opening it a crack, staring at the unfamiliar girl with no small amount of confusion. "I... what? Your sorority? If this is some kinda joke, I'm really not in the mood..."<br><br>A bit surprised that the girl seemed to be serious, I took the card, turning it over curiously and reading it, shrugging a little as I looked up at the girl. I'd never even considered joining one of those airhead sororities, and I wasn't about to change my tune now... but on the other hand, I'd barely left the dorm since Frannie vanished, and there would probably be some refreshments served. And, although my scholarship definitly helped, I still couldn't afford to turn down a free meal<br><br>"I... sure, see you there, maybe..." Pocketing the card, I shut the door, stumbling back to my bed, setting my alarm clock for six o'clock before laying back, trying to at least get a little sleep before heading over.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>06-11-2008, 05:45:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Every unit in the four-story apartment complex was rented by the girls of Mu Iota, the owner a benefactor supportive of their cause.&nbsp; Though the campus did not sanction official houses for the few frats and sororities, such special arrangements were allowed.&nbsp; It was a trait that the sorority girls used to their advantage; their fund raising methods needed the utmost privacy, both for peeping eyes and attentive ears.&nbsp; Though an apartment complex, it was treated like its own sorority house; all sub-units stayed open unless for a reason, and the girls came and went freely.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;However, apartments inside the nice parts of the city are rarely cheap, necessitating various arrangements for Mu Iota’s continued existence.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It was time for another fundraiser, and that was what little Soo-Min was for.&nbsp; She would be Dahlia’s responsibility.&nbsp; Full pledges were always tested during their second and third years.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Soo-Min arrived just a few minutes behind schedule.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I’m thrilled you could make it!” said Dahlia, holding the front security door open for the newest ‘special’ pledge.&nbsp; She’d be the only one of the evening; it was best not to let them witness each others’ suffering.&nbsp; “Let me introduce you to the president.&nbsp; She’s on the fourth floor.”<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Together, they ascended the stairs until they stood outside the president’s one bedroom apartment. <br><br>&nbsp;“You’ll love being in our sorority.&nbsp; All of the girls are so cool, and housing is free if you choose to live in these apartments with us.”&nbsp; She knew that if anything worked, it would be the appeal of free rent.&nbsp; Housing in the dorms was expensive, especially for girls like Soo-Min.<br><br>Dahlia opened the door and led the new recruit inside.&nbsp; “Here she is.&nbsp; Soo-Min, Kathy.&nbsp; Kathy, Soo-Min.”<br><br>The tall, white girl stood and greeted the Asian girl, along with two of the other sorority members.<br><br>Kathy smiled a grin of pure white teeth, her wealthy upbringing more than enough to giver her the best dental work imaginable.&nbsp; She was tall, almost six feet, and had long straight black hair that hung past her shoulders.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her breasts pressed against her tight sweater.&nbsp; Any observer could tell that she was standing in the perfect way to present her figure.&nbsp; “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Soo-Min, and I’m absolutely thrilled that you’re interested in becoming a Mu Iota.&nbsp; Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself?&nbsp; We’re rather selective, after all, but there are countless benefits to being one of us.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>06-11-2008, 22:37:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I sighed a little as I trudged up the walkway to the Mu Iota apartment building, rubbing my eyes sleepily. The nap had helped a bit, but I still felt like crap, tugging self consciously at the hooded sweater I was wearing. I had gotten it back in high school, when I decided that this was the university I wanted to go to, and although it was more then a bit worn, a few small holes here and there, I had never gotten around to replacing it. Combined with the well worn jeans I was wearing, I knew that I would be very, very out of place here, but honestly, I couldn't bring myself to care that much. Tucked in the pocket of my sweater was a small, cheap digital camera. I doubted I'd need it, but Mu Iota was big enough, you never knew if something newsworthy might occur.<br><br>Knocking on the door, I nodded to Dahlia as I stepped in, looking a bit surprised as she mentioned the president. Up until now, I hadn't thought they were actually seriously considering me, and I had half expected to be laughed at for taking them seriously. Shrugging and following her up the stairs, my eyes widened a little as she mentioned the free housing, although I did my best not to show it. In an instant, this had gone from something to get me out of the dorm to something that seemed like a very tempting idea. After all, saving that much money... That would make things here a lot easier...<br><br>I took a deep breath as the president's door opened, doing my best to make a good impression, holding a hand out to her "It's... nice to meet you as well, thank you for inviting me here..." She nods at the question, answering quickly, almost a bit too eager "Well, my parents came to America with me when I was just a little kid... we're um, from Korea... I grew up in the city here, always dreamed about going to this university... and I got a journalism scholar ship so... here I am!" I bit her lip, already silently critiquing my answer in my head, staring at the sorority president a little. God, I thought, look at her... She's gorgeous... and probably richer then Frannie.<br><br>I felt a bit ashamed at that thought, feeling bad for being here while she was still missing... But, I tried to rationalize, I needed a brake, I was no use to her like I had been when her cousin stopped by... And besides, if I didn't need to pay for housing, I could quit my job, and have a lot more time to search for her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>07-11-2008, 06:47:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Dahlia smiled.&nbsp; It was all turning out to be so perfect, but then again, it always was when the pledge was as poor and timid as Soo-Min.&nbsp; The mere offer of free housing was enough to get her salivating.&nbsp; There would be payments of other kinds, of course, but it isn’t like Soo-Min would be getting nothing in exchange.<br><br>Besides her, the president smiled with satisfaction.&nbsp; “You seem like a wonderful person, Soo-Min—exactly the type we need to set an example for some of our more spoiled, lazier girls.&nbsp; If you want to be a Mu Iota, you’re in, and as a member you’d be entitled to a room in this building.&nbsp; All you have to do is bring your stuff over and cancel your dorm contract.&nbsp; Please, accept our offer.&nbsp; We need you, Soo-Min.”<br><br>Kathy extended her hand and waited for Soo-Min’s decision.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nephili</strong> on <strong>11-11-2008, 15:25:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I nodded slowly as I listened to the presidents words, summoning all my self control to keep my excitement from becoming too obvious. I couldn't help but smiling proudly, however, at the mention of setting an example... maybe the Iota Nus weren't so bad after all, if they could at least recognize how much some of their girls needed to improve. Taking the offered hand eagerly, I shook it, perhaps giving away my enthusiasm with the speed I did so.<br><br>"I... well, when you put it that way, I would be honored! I'll... go take care of things right away, is there anything else you need, if not, I'll go get packed right now, ok?"<br><br>Blushing a little, I bit my lip, forcing myself to stop, realizing that once again I had been rambling a little. I stood, waiting for the president's answer, eager to get back to the dorm for what should be the last time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Many Sad Fates of a Modern Heroine</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Monceto</strong> on <strong>12-11-2008, 04:17:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kathy clapped her hands gleefully.&nbsp; &nbsp;"Thank you, Soo-Min.&nbsp; This will be a turning point in your life, I promise.&nbsp; I'll make sure Dahlia sets up a room for you downstairs.&nbsp; There's still some initiation proceedures to go through, but those can wait until you're settled in."<br><br>Once Soo-Min had left, the president turned to Dahlia.&nbsp; "Nice work, Dahlia.&nbsp; She's going to get our sorority back in the black."<br><br>"Thank you, Kathy.&nbsp; I know she'll be perfect for our sorority.&nbsp; What room should we set up for her?"<br><br>"Give her the previous girl's old room, whatever-her-name-was.&nbsp; Start planning her chores and tasks, oh, and make sure she has all the needed uniforms. After that, you're free to go."<br><br>Dahlia left the president's apartment, thrilled that she had made a good impression.&nbsp; Though she had entered Mu Iota as a regular pledge, she had always longed to enter the ruling council.&nbsp; There were far too many benefits to pass up, from free housing in the apartment to the profit sharing incentives that Kathy had implemented.&nbsp; Not like there were many profits to go around, but there would be.&nbsp; Jodie was almost enough make the sorority profitable again, and Soo-Min would push them well over the edge.<br><br>She checked the closet in the third-floor bedroom.&nbsp; All of Jodie's old uniforms were still there; the school girl uniform, the maid's outfit, several sorority sweaters, short skirts, long skirts, leather pants, and shoes of all varieties.&nbsp; If Soo-Min asked, they were just being stored there until the previous occupant arrived to pick them up.&nbsp; They weren't quite Soo-Min's size, but smaller and uncomfortable would help in her initiation process.<br><br>Once everything was set up just as Kathy wanted it, Dahlia returned to her dorm room back on campus, happy at her day's accomplishment.&nbsp; <br><br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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