Roxy Lalonde (Kyr: Robin Hood) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thevoidsdarkhorse) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gunsforhire2015-05-02 01:28 am
thevoidsdarkhorse) wrote in gunsforhire2015-05-02 01:28 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Roxy Lalonde, Open
What: Getting her first injury on Adaptive.
Where: Streets on the poorer side of town
When: May 2nd, Night
Warnings: Violence, cursing, blood, injuries.
She had trouble sleeping. If there had been any doubt Roxy wasn't in the same universe, the dreams would prove it. Namely the fact she's actually HAVING them. She knew what normal dreams were, seen them enough in media to get the concept. She's just never had them. It was either the darkness of Derse and the sweet song of the void, or it was the Dream Bubbles from after her arrival in the Game. It was weird to have things in her dreams that she didn't remember, or led to her meeting someone new. It was disorientating and sometimes it'd force her to wake up in the middle of the night. Especially since her dreams were rarely....pleasant.
Which lead to her taking walks. Something to get rid of the nervous energy she'd wake up with. There was still enough new to see that it was a welcome distraction. An hour, maybe two, and she'd be relaxed enough to go back to sleep. Nothing had happened before, she thought nothing of it.
When she passed the group of six young men in the alley, she still thought nothing of it. She just waved, smiling behind her helmet, and continued on her way. Until one of them threw out an arm to block her off, leaning against the wall in front of her.
They started talking about donations and needing a little help and it confused Roxy for several moments. She even offered to help, asking if they were out of food or medicine, until they got annoyed and just demanded her wallet. It was then Roxy got the picture.
She was being mugged.
It was like the movies. Walked into an alley and a group of thugs were trying to MUG her and she laughed because it was so cliche. This just annoyed them more, and she saw the hand coming for her, saw the aggression in their body language, and just because she was amused didn't mean she was going to just let someone get a hold of her.
It was a side step of the hand and a punch to the throat, followed by a momentary pause of shock as their friend choked.
"You bitch!"
"Rude!" Roxy shot back as the others pounced on her and she was moving. Duck, weave, distance, don't let them cluster on top of her. They were untrained, maybe they saw her as an easy target for being smaller than them, and she was all too willing to use that to her advantage. She moved and spun close, letting them trip over each other as she lead them out of the alley. Once she was out in the street, she'd have more room to dodge, more room to get away, to weave into other hiding places and-
And that was a knife. Oh, that was four knives. "Seriously?!" She demanded, grabbing the overextended wrist and twisting the arm painfully until he let go, kicking the knife away before pushing him into his friend with a punch to the solar plexus. It just seemed to make them angrier, more determined, and this was getting dangerous. Desperate was always dangerous.
She ducked under another arm, noted the long legs and was already moving between his wide spread legs from the lunge. And elbowed him in the crotch along the way. A cry of pain, a dropped knife that she snatched up and threw down the alley. Two knives gone, three indisposed, no, four, one of them was helping the one she just brought down.
Another knife coming. She needed to get them to BACK OFF. She grabbed the wrist, pulled herself up, kept up the momentum as she pulled forward and slammed her forearm against the back of the elbow, and heard the loud CRACK as the joint gave.
Then the scream.
It echoed in her head, loud and piercing. Not the choking, not the low groan, an actual scream and she never heard screaming, screaming didn't HAPPEN in a fight. Not with robots, not with undead, not mute starving Carapacians, and it was horrifying, the sound was terrible, but it was fine, fine, fine, the living back off when you break a limb-
Except Carapacians attacked because they were hungry. It was survival instinct to get food. It was survival instinct to back off when the prey proved too dangerous.
The fourth knife was coming, it was close, too close, her arm shooting out to grab it, but was too late. The scream, the expectation, it slowed her reaction time and she felt the feeling of metal in her skin, dragging along her side as she tries to get the knife away, the familiar warmth. She stumbled back, hand pressing against her side and it's too wet, too warm, and they're laughing, and the sound makes no sense.
Talking. There's talking, boasting, they think they won, that she's easy prey, and no, no, she can't stop. She can't stop because NO ONE WILL SAVE HER and they were a threat, she was bleeding, the fight had to end. She ignored the injury, she ignored the pain, ignored the part that said hold back because she tried. She tried to be kind, but when kind doesn't work, she has to survive.
There was more screaming, she told herself it was explosions, and it takes another two arms, a leg, and a bashed in helmet visor before they finally leave her alone.
She's stumbling down the street now, trying to get home, pressing against the wound in her side. She's still bleeding. She's not sure if it's because she kept fighting, or if it's too deep to clot properly. She's fairly sure no organs were hit, but it'd be a while before she was sure. She just had to keep moving. She just needed to get home, to get to the first aid kit. She'd be fine then. She'd be fine.
Because she has to be. She can only depend on herself to stay alive.
What: Getting her first injury on Adaptive.
Where: Streets on the poorer side of town
When: May 2nd, Night
Warnings: Violence, cursing, blood, injuries.
She had trouble sleeping. If there had been any doubt Roxy wasn't in the same universe, the dreams would prove it. Namely the fact she's actually HAVING them. She knew what normal dreams were, seen them enough in media to get the concept. She's just never had them. It was either the darkness of Derse and the sweet song of the void, or it was the Dream Bubbles from after her arrival in the Game. It was weird to have things in her dreams that she didn't remember, or led to her meeting someone new. It was disorientating and sometimes it'd force her to wake up in the middle of the night. Especially since her dreams were rarely....pleasant.
Which lead to her taking walks. Something to get rid of the nervous energy she'd wake up with. There was still enough new to see that it was a welcome distraction. An hour, maybe two, and she'd be relaxed enough to go back to sleep. Nothing had happened before, she thought nothing of it.
When she passed the group of six young men in the alley, she still thought nothing of it. She just waved, smiling behind her helmet, and continued on her way. Until one of them threw out an arm to block her off, leaning against the wall in front of her.
They started talking about donations and needing a little help and it confused Roxy for several moments. She even offered to help, asking if they were out of food or medicine, until they got annoyed and just demanded her wallet. It was then Roxy got the picture.
She was being mugged.
It was like the movies. Walked into an alley and a group of thugs were trying to MUG her and she laughed because it was so cliche. This just annoyed them more, and she saw the hand coming for her, saw the aggression in their body language, and just because she was amused didn't mean she was going to just let someone get a hold of her.
It was a side step of the hand and a punch to the throat, followed by a momentary pause of shock as their friend choked.
"You bitch!"
"Rude!" Roxy shot back as the others pounced on her and she was moving. Duck, weave, distance, don't let them cluster on top of her. They were untrained, maybe they saw her as an easy target for being smaller than them, and she was all too willing to use that to her advantage. She moved and spun close, letting them trip over each other as she lead them out of the alley. Once she was out in the street, she'd have more room to dodge, more room to get away, to weave into other hiding places and-
And that was a knife. Oh, that was four knives. "Seriously?!" She demanded, grabbing the overextended wrist and twisting the arm painfully until he let go, kicking the knife away before pushing him into his friend with a punch to the solar plexus. It just seemed to make them angrier, more determined, and this was getting dangerous. Desperate was always dangerous.
She ducked under another arm, noted the long legs and was already moving between his wide spread legs from the lunge. And elbowed him in the crotch along the way. A cry of pain, a dropped knife that she snatched up and threw down the alley. Two knives gone, three indisposed, no, four, one of them was helping the one she just brought down.
Another knife coming. She needed to get them to BACK OFF. She grabbed the wrist, pulled herself up, kept up the momentum as she pulled forward and slammed her forearm against the back of the elbow, and heard the loud CRACK as the joint gave.
Then the scream.
It echoed in her head, loud and piercing. Not the choking, not the low groan, an actual scream and she never heard screaming, screaming didn't HAPPEN in a fight. Not with robots, not with undead, not mute starving Carapacians, and it was horrifying, the sound was terrible, but it was fine, fine, fine, the living back off when you break a limb-
Except Carapacians attacked because they were hungry. It was survival instinct to get food. It was survival instinct to back off when the prey proved too dangerous.
The fourth knife was coming, it was close, too close, her arm shooting out to grab it, but was too late. The scream, the expectation, it slowed her reaction time and she felt the feeling of metal in her skin, dragging along her side as she tries to get the knife away, the familiar warmth. She stumbled back, hand pressing against her side and it's too wet, too warm, and they're laughing, and the sound makes no sense.
Talking. There's talking, boasting, they think they won, that she's easy prey, and no, no, she can't stop. She can't stop because NO ONE WILL SAVE HER and they were a threat, she was bleeding, the fight had to end. She ignored the injury, she ignored the pain, ignored the part that said hold back because she tried. She tried to be kind, but when kind doesn't work, she has to survive.
There was more screaming, she told herself it was explosions, and it takes another two arms, a leg, and a bashed in helmet visor before they finally leave her alone.
She's stumbling down the street now, trying to get home, pressing against the wound in her side. She's still bleeding. She's not sure if it's because she kept fighting, or if it's too deep to clot properly. She's fairly sure no organs were hit, but it'd be a while before she was sure. She just had to keep moving. She just needed to get home, to get to the first aid kit. She'd be fine then. She'd be fine.
Because she has to be. She can only depend on herself to stay alive.
no subject
"Had to. Some of the attackers weren't malicious, just desperate. Couldn't break 'em just cause they had a mental disadvantage to bad shit," she said. Because it was true. Carapacians were terrible at restraint. They barely knew what impulse control WAS. "Someone had to keep a cool head and it had to be me."
no subject
no subject
She moved the gauze from her wound, studying it. "Yeah, its slowing. We should be good without burning things."
no subject
He sleeps long and he sleeps hard and he snores loud so waking him up is a very difficult task. It's even unusual for him to get up during the night, so this is an odd thing indeed.
It probably has less to do with the fact that he heard noises in his house and more to do with the fact that he probably shouldn't have tried to drink Tucker under the table but that's not something to be thinking about right now.
Instead Grif has to deal with the fact that Roxy is in the bathroom, bleeding, with some guy Grif has never seen before and Jesus Christ what the fuck is going on?
"What. The fuck. Is going on?" He says, going from zero to awake, his voice starting to hit that panicked upper register.
no subject
"Hey," he nods at the newcomer. "Roxy got stabbed. I brought her back here. Hope that's okay, she needed first aid real quick."
no subject
"I went for a walk, muggers got in my face, I hospitalized the lot, but one managed to stab me a lil, its seriously not a huge issue," she said to Grif with the most put upon look. "Just a few stitches Wash is helpin' me with."
no subject
"OKAY? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THIS OKAY?! SHE'S STABBED AND BLEEDING AND YOU'RE IN THE BATHROOM? WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE HER TO A HOSPITAL?! ROXY WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME OR SOMETHING?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!"
no subject
"Mmm, she was bleeding in your bathroom. Sorry, dude. We tried to not get it on the towels." He shrugs. It's not his first instinct to go to hospitals, honestly, not for just a stab wound. You can't quite trust them when you're a mercenary.
no subject
Though the concern was touching. And confusing. And like her feelings for Wash's help, she's repressing them until she can properly deal with them.
"Cause the other guys have severe broken bones, there's six, emergency room only so big, and I dun have any sort of papers," Roxy said. And the idea was so damn foreign. What was even having a hospital option. "Anyway, I've dealt with worse injuries solo," she said. Which....probably wasn't gonna help, but she'd been stabbed, hard to realize how much others worry,
no subject
"SO? I'D MAKE SHIT UP OR SOMETHING!" And he would. He's got connections somewhere. His sister would help him out, he's sure.
He rounds on Washington.
"Look, if you're gonna do that, do it in a room with better light. I don't remember the last time I cleaned in here and the last thing we need is an infection or some shit."
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no subject
Roxy grimaced at the thought of moving, half stitched up. "Cleaned it two weeks ago. I hit the kitchen last week."
no subject
However, there's a more pressing issue at hand.
"You did? Seriously?" There's admiration in that sentence because the bathroom had reached a state where not even Donut would touch it.