(I had a interesting dive into physcology lately, and its always intriqued me how deep the mind can truely go if you explore. This is the story of how my character, Ricky, found a way to re-activate himself, and get out of a coma that he got somehow. If you notice any resemblance to movies like Inception, Shutter Island, etc, I don't try. But I get some inspirations from those.
Its quite a different story than most RP's i've seen -- If your going to be in my story, you cannot be in the current. You have to be in his dream, The "fantasy" world of his. Your pretty much not real in this story anyways since its adream. But thats the genius of it. You have your own mind, your own personality, but it must tie to him. Something in Memory that he did that he can remember in other RP's (Such as The Package -- He would know you in some way or another, no matter how much he does. It can be a familiar face, or someone he knew personally. Or just somebody he saw on the street one day a long time ago and doesn't remember. But it must tie.)
I hope you enjoy, as you all know its as much fun to read as it is to write, and imagine.
Just a tip: This story does flip scenes without warning. Remember: Its a dream. Or is it?)
It was raining, like usual. It never did seem to stop, everyday. They say a hurricane was over New York, for the first time in years. He looked himself in the mirror. Bah, nothing good to look at. He had a scar on his face from a robber a year ago.
He went out of the apartment, after he put his jacket on. He was on the fourth floor, and he didn't feel like using the stairs again. He opened up the metal gate to the elevator, and closed it after he went in. He pushed for the bottom floor.
---
You could hear the sounds of the city, bad traffic's anger screaming at each other with the honks of their cars.
Ricky got in his Murai and started it up. He got a phone call, and awnsered it.
"Yes?" He said, in a tired tone. He didn't get too much sleep.
"Hey Rick. We need you down at the station. Looks like we got another nutjob who needs some special talk."
It was Sergeant Marion, with the NYPD. There hasn't been too much cases lately, so this was a bresh of fresh air. To keep his mind off of what happened.
He drove a bit south, ending up at the Police headquarters. He parked his car in his lot, and then went inside.
Everybody knew him. He was the best in his field of work. Cold Cases, or cases that have little evidence but recently happened. The toughest ones.They were down where the interrogation room was, holding a man named Levell Jordan.
Morian leaned over to Ricky, and in a yorker accent, said, "We suspect he killed a family of 4 just six hours ago. We found him carrying a gun owned by the family husband, Gregory Spot."
Ricky sighed, his hand wiping his face. "I knew the Spots. They live just a block over from where I live. I need to speak to this - this Levell alone."
Ricky sat down in the interrogation room, taking out a cigar, lighting it, then looked at the suspect.
Levell looked like he haven't slept in days, and had one blind eye.
Ricky, all slick like, put in, "So, levell, why do you have Gregory Spot's weapon in your hold at the night of his murder?"
Levell looked at him, and said in a sad, raspy voice, "like i told your other cop friend, he sent me the gun so i could change out the barrel and polish it. Normal crap. We both knew each other, were neighbors for crist sake.
What you gonna charge me for that? Huh? Murder of one my friends that I didn't kill?"
Ricky replied, "Now i didn't say you killed him. I just asked why. Now I'm gonna ask you to calm down and tell me how close you two were."
Levell snorted, obviously hiding something. He wasn't very good at it.
"Me and him were practicly best friends. He and his family would come over to my place on the weekands to watch True blood each sunday. Hell, we even had a couple family dinners."
Ricky was trying to break into his head, to see what he was holding.
"Alright. Why would he give you the gun to repair? What did he use it for?"
Levell replied quiite fast, "He went to the range alot. Ex-cops usually never like having a bad aim, *he sorta half-giggle-laughed, nervously.* He did phone me to ask me a good poem for his anniversary."
"Oh? Was there anniversary tonight?"
Levell replied again a bit slower, "No, a week from today. His wife must be devastated.."
Ricky nodded. "I'm sure, after her husband died and we don't know who did it. Do you mind me asking what poem you suggested?"
Levell said, "Sure. Uh, do you have paper? Its best read, and not spoken."
*Ricky took out a notepad and pen, and pushed it over the table to him. He wrote it down, calmly. He was starting to calm down alot. Something most murder suspects don't do.
Levell pushed the notepad and pen back, and ricky looked at the Poem.
If I had wings to fly
I'd breathe in deep
and spread them wide
as I leap from the cliff
into the wind
where the gulls glide.
Crossing this wide sea
I glide above cruel waves
that reach up to drown my flight
in their cold
deep
blue-green graves.
And as your day grows slowly light
I'd arrive on worn-out wings
to hold you
in your waking dreams
and feel you soft
and gently warm
in my embrace at last.
Ricky smirked. "Thats nice. I guess your claims seem to be on track. Have you two had any recent debates lately, or, per say, fights?"
Levell was suddenly shot back into a nervous state. "Not really, no."
Ricky took this as cue. He leaned a bit.
"Tell me, the truth, Levell. Did you two fight, or not?" He gave him the stare that suggested he didn't believe No.
Levell sighed. "We did have one argument, over.. a gun. It was the one he gave me to repair."
Ricky quickly questioned, "Well? Why?"
Levell looked at Ricky. "Because.. He thought that gun was used in a bank robbery."
Ricky suddenly snaped ito a daze.. his eyes unfocusing.
----
It was December 15th. Ricky and his wife Janet were out at a Fancy Restaurant, celebrating their own Anniversary.
Janet smiled at him, and in the most angelic tone known to ricky, "Awh, you overdo yourself. This place is lovely, Ricky."
"Well, there wasn't room for dissapointment, so this had to do." He smiled at her, and she held onto his arm and walked in. They talked. Drinked. smiled. Kissed..
When they were going home, Ricky stopped by the Bank real quickly to deposit something. I think it was a bank note, the usual.
But thats when it happened. Four men in ski masks bust in with assault rifles.
"GET DOWN! GET DOWN NOW OR DIE!"
Everyone was on the floor. A woman screaming can be heard.
A bank robber walked up to ricky, and slammed the butt of his rifle into his face, for no reason. Blood splurted on the floor. "Heheh, there you go snob. I bet you never felt pain before, you rich bastard."
Ricky couldn't say anything, but if anyone couldn't be more wrong it was the bank robber. But.. He saw Janet enter the bank..
--
Ricky snapped back into the interrogation room, wiping his eyes.
"I'm sorry. Just, continue. What happened to the end of the fight?"
Levell nodded, and replied, "He left the store, leaving the gun. He said I had to fix it anyways. This was four days ago."
Ricky sighed, and got up. "Well levell, unless you got some miracle, you ain't gettin off easy."
Levell started to plead. "Please, I didn't do it officer, Please! I know, I know someone who might've done it."
Ricky looked at him. "Who?"
Levell said rashly, "Markus Oberl. He hated Him, alot. He used to work wtih him at the old office Spot used to work in."
Ricky nodded. "We'll bring him in too. Were done here."
Ricky left the interrogation room, looking at Marion.
Marion said, "You alrght? Saw you drift in there."
Ricky said harshly, "I'm fine. I just need my fucking medicine."
He looked at his office door. Detective Ricky Scarface. He coughed, before entering the room. He sat down at his desk, pulling open his drawer. He took out some pills, and popped them in his mouth, and swallowed them. He put his feet up on his desk, and laid back a bit in his seat, thinking.
This case is gonna fucking suck..
--------------------------------------------------------------
Its quite a different story than most RP's i've seen -- If your going to be in my story, you cannot be in the current. You have to be in his dream, The "fantasy" world of his. Your pretty much not real in this story anyways since its a
I hope you enjoy, as you all know its as much fun to read as it is to write, and imagine.
Just a tip: This story does flip scenes without warning. Remember: Its a dream. Or is it?)
It was raining, like usual. It never did seem to stop, everyday. They say a hurricane was over New York, for the first time in years. He looked himself in the mirror. Bah, nothing good to look at. He had a scar on his face from a robber a year ago.
He went out of the apartment, after he put his jacket on. He was on the fourth floor, and he didn't feel like using the stairs again. He opened up the metal gate to the elevator, and closed it after he went in. He pushed for the bottom floor.
---
You could hear the sounds of the city, bad traffic's anger screaming at each other with the honks of their cars.
Ricky got in his Murai and started it up. He got a phone call, and awnsered it.
"Yes?" He said, in a tired tone. He didn't get too much sleep.
"Hey Rick. We need you down at the station. Looks like we got another nutjob who needs some special talk."
It was Sergeant Marion, with the NYPD. There hasn't been too much cases lately, so this was a bresh of fresh air. To keep his mind off of what happened.
He drove a bit south, ending up at the Police headquarters. He parked his car in his lot, and then went inside.
Everybody knew him. He was the best in his field of work. Cold Cases, or cases that have little evidence but recently happened. The toughest ones.They were down where the interrogation room was, holding a man named Levell Jordan.
Morian leaned over to Ricky, and in a yorker accent, said, "We suspect he killed a family of 4 just six hours ago. We found him carrying a gun owned by the family husband, Gregory Spot."
Ricky sighed, his hand wiping his face. "I knew the Spots. They live just a block over from where I live. I need to speak to this - this Levell alone."
Ricky sat down in the interrogation room, taking out a cigar, lighting it, then looked at the suspect.
Levell looked like he haven't slept in days, and had one blind eye.
Ricky, all slick like, put in, "So, levell, why do you have Gregory Spot's weapon in your hold at the night of his murder?"
Levell looked at him, and said in a sad, raspy voice, "like i told your other cop friend, he sent me the gun so i could change out the barrel and polish it. Normal crap. We both knew each other, were neighbors for crist sake.
What you gonna charge me for that? Huh? Murder of one my friends that I didn't kill?"
Ricky replied, "Now i didn't say you killed him. I just asked why. Now I'm gonna ask you to calm down and tell me how close you two were."
Levell snorted, obviously hiding something. He wasn't very good at it.
"Me and him were practicly best friends. He and his family would come over to my place on the weekands to watch True blood each sunday. Hell, we even had a couple family dinners."
Ricky was trying to break into his head, to see what he was holding.
"Alright. Why would he give you the gun to repair? What did he use it for?"
Levell replied quiite fast, "He went to the range alot. Ex-cops usually never like having a bad aim, *he sorta half-giggle-laughed, nervously.* He did phone me to ask me a good poem for his anniversary."
"Oh? Was there anniversary tonight?"
Levell replied again a bit slower, "No, a week from today. His wife must be devastated.."
Ricky nodded. "I'm sure, after her husband died and we don't know who did it. Do you mind me asking what poem you suggested?"
Levell said, "Sure. Uh, do you have paper? Its best read, and not spoken."
*Ricky took out a notepad and pen, and pushed it over the table to him. He wrote it down, calmly. He was starting to calm down alot. Something most murder suspects don't do.
Levell pushed the notepad and pen back, and ricky looked at the Poem.
If I had wings to fly
I'd breathe in deep
and spread them wide
as I leap from the cliff
into the wind
where the gulls glide.
Crossing this wide sea
I glide above cruel waves
that reach up to drown my flight
in their cold
deep
blue-green graves.
And as your day grows slowly light
I'd arrive on worn-out wings
to hold you
in your waking dreams
and feel you soft
and gently warm
in my embrace at last.
Ricky smirked. "Thats nice. I guess your claims seem to be on track. Have you two had any recent debates lately, or, per say, fights?"
Levell was suddenly shot back into a nervous state. "Not really, no."
Ricky took this as cue. He leaned a bit.
"Tell me, the truth, Levell. Did you two fight, or not?" He gave him the stare that suggested he didn't believe No.
Levell sighed. "We did have one argument, over.. a gun. It was the one he gave me to repair."
Ricky quickly questioned, "Well? Why?"
Levell looked at Ricky. "Because.. He thought that gun was used in a bank robbery."
Ricky suddenly snaped ito a daze.. his eyes unfocusing.
----
It was December 15th. Ricky and his wife Janet were out at a Fancy Restaurant, celebrating their own Anniversary.
Janet smiled at him, and in the most angelic tone known to ricky, "Awh, you overdo yourself. This place is lovely, Ricky."
"Well, there wasn't room for dissapointment, so this had to do." He smiled at her, and she held onto his arm and walked in. They talked. Drinked. smiled. Kissed..
When they were going home, Ricky stopped by the Bank real quickly to deposit something. I think it was a bank note, the usual.
But thats when it happened. Four men in ski masks bust in with assault rifles.
"GET DOWN! GET DOWN NOW OR DIE!"
Everyone was on the floor. A woman screaming can be heard.
A bank robber walked up to ricky, and slammed the butt of his rifle into his face, for no reason. Blood splurted on the floor. "Heheh, there you go snob. I bet you never felt pain before, you rich bastard."
Ricky couldn't say anything, but if anyone couldn't be more wrong it was the bank robber. But.. He saw Janet enter the bank..
--
Ricky snapped back into the interrogation room, wiping his eyes.
"I'm sorry. Just, continue. What happened to the end of the fight?"
Levell nodded, and replied, "He left the store, leaving the gun. He said I had to fix it anyways. This was four days ago."
Ricky sighed, and got up. "Well levell, unless you got some miracle, you ain't gettin off easy."
Levell started to plead. "Please, I didn't do it officer, Please! I know, I know someone who might've done it."
Ricky looked at him. "Who?"
Levell said rashly, "Markus Oberl. He hated Him, alot. He used to work wtih him at the old office Spot used to work in."
Ricky nodded. "We'll bring him in too. Were done here."
Ricky left the interrogation room, looking at Marion.
Marion said, "You alrght? Saw you drift in there."
Ricky said harshly, "I'm fine. I just need my fucking medicine."
He looked at his office door. Detective Ricky Scarface. He coughed, before entering the room. He sat down at his desk, pulling open his drawer. He took out some pills, and popped them in his mouth, and swallowed them. He put his feet up on his desk, and laid back a bit in his seat, thinking.
This case is gonna fucking suck..
--------------------------------------------------------------
