"We don't need anymore of your type..." was the beginning of a train of words that meant less and less to her as she started fade; consciousness slipping from her beaten and bruised body as mind reeled into the past.
~Three Hours Earlier~
Thunder cracked with a flare of lightning overhead the streets of San Paro; its citizens running amok for cover, but not from the usual storm of bullets. The night had swelled with blackened clouds, blotting out the stars as it sweltered with a hard, cold rain. A cat-and-dog weather that encouraged the innocent and the wicked alike to take shelter in the many rundown establishments nearby. One little pub in particular was stuffed full of the criminally insane and those who just wanted to make it by another day... the poor girl being a part of the latter. Despite efforts to remain unnoticed, white locks of lush hair contrasting with natural-mocha flesh did plenty to garner the attention of undesirables, and none of it helped being wrapped about a curvaceous frame crafted by nature to have all the right curves, catching any unwanted wanton eyes. With little more than a clear raincoat to hide her crop-top and jean-clad hide, the best she could was hope to avoid causing a ruckus.
Though what encouraged her to hide might not have been obvious fear a few others displayed around the typical tattoo-bearing thug. No, it was the price on her head she'd carried over from city to city that had thrown this woman into such ambiguous state of being. It was unfortunate she'd never considered San Paro to, perhaps, be the wrong place to hide. It was because of such lack of consideration she hadn't been prepared, or even aware of the city's condition until now. Behind her, a noise caught her attention... with slender frame prying itself from the counter she once so delicately leaned upon, she twisted around to answer, with eyes only, the soft cry: a meager plead for help. Before her very eyes a hardened thug, desert scar around his neck to partially conceal the many tattoos that no doubt ran down from his neck to attach to the tribal spirals on his arms, was harassing a rather meek young woman. A woman who's comely features and amiable appeal attracted more than the eye from the White-haired gal sitting at the counter. When the man began to get rough, growling down into her ear, Malise got a bit confrontational- her first mistake of the night.
"Look here, Bub. How about you lay off the young woman before someone gets upset and causes trouble in this fine establishment?" Her tone was as non-threatening as possible, but that only brought a wide, sadistic grin from the man. Though his attention has been torn from the weaker woman he'd been harassing, it was now, unfortunately, upon Malise. "Trouble...?" he repeats the word with hands going out as if he'd been questioned, "Who in this fine establishment would cause such trouble around a..." he bites his bottom lip, looking her over and making the girl suddenly quite uncomfortable. "Around such a sweet little treat like you?" He finishes, taking a step closer to her- before reeling back with a cry of pain. Blood gushed from his nose, Malise having brought her fist around in a crushing blow moment prior, before throwing her knee up into the hunched-over man's stomach. When he fell to his knees, she glared down upon him, spitting out "Don't call me girl, girl." Insult to the injury, and maybe a little salt to her. She wasn't one for being lewd and spewing out obscenities, so while it may have seemed tame to others, to her it was a humiliating defeat for the poor sod on his knees.
Well, poor Sod until she noticed the badge lying on the floor. A cry brought her attention again, eyes lifting straight up towards a table of men and women, whom had stood up and produced a handful of weapons. All pointed at her. "Run!" The meek woman cried out, sprinting away- and without much thought put into it, it's all she could do. Turning about just in time and dashing towards a nearby door, a hail of bullets followed, barking at her from behind as they collided with the molding, splintering the wood around her, but leaving her ultimately unscathed. After triumphing a flight of stairs, she was on her way through the halls of a very small apartment complex above the bar below; the thugs on her tail in hot pursuit. All the while questions began running through her mind; thoughts trying to bring logic to why a thug would have had a badge- why, if they were cops, they lacked uniforms and just open fired on her like that. There hadn't even been a verbal warning! Those same thoughts, however, distracted her from her goal - leaving her oblivious to the shadow of a man that hid around the corner.
Barely having time to gasp, an armored woman spun about, into the hall, and Malise's face collided with the butt of a rifle. She was seeing stars as she fell onto her back, still clinging to consciousness, and as she started to roll over and push herself up, she felt a pinch upon her butt. About to consider how inappropriate it was for anyone to be taking the time to pinch someone's ass, she suddenly went stiff, bleating out in pain as sparks ripped through her form from toe to top. Like that, she was down, unmoving, breathing ragged.. and soon, in cuffs in the back of a colorful car marked with C.S.A Enforcers. That's about the time the wheelman started having a chat with her, despite she was barely listening. Confused and dazed, she came to again- escaping the flashback only to spy the blaring headlights of a massive armored truck to her left. Thankfully she was in the right hand, rear-passenger side. However, she also wasn't wearing a seat belt. When the car rolled, she tumbled inside, shoulder heard snapping and metal screeching out in deafening tones. Pain by now had become an abstract compared to the blurred world around her; eyes weren't making sense of things. She saw figured moving, as if they were walking on the cieling and opening doors... and then she could barely feel herself being dragged out, carried by two, one who barked out something about blood and her eyes.
Where are am I going...? Was the last thought to run through her mind before she slipped into unconsciousness, eyes barely catching a drop of blood spilling towards the rain-soaked asphalt below, only to be washed away... perhaps like the past she once lived. Her new life in San Paro was just beginning.
( I'm not the best writer but I couldn't think of a better entrance to San Paro without being flashy and completely out of character. :3 )
~Three Hours Earlier~
Thunder cracked with a flare of lightning overhead the streets of San Paro; its citizens running amok for cover, but not from the usual storm of bullets. The night had swelled with blackened clouds, blotting out the stars as it sweltered with a hard, cold rain. A cat-and-dog weather that encouraged the innocent and the wicked alike to take shelter in the many rundown establishments nearby. One little pub in particular was stuffed full of the criminally insane and those who just wanted to make it by another day... the poor girl being a part of the latter. Despite efforts to remain unnoticed, white locks of lush hair contrasting with natural-mocha flesh did plenty to garner the attention of undesirables, and none of it helped being wrapped about a curvaceous frame crafted by nature to have all the right curves, catching any unwanted wanton eyes. With little more than a clear raincoat to hide her crop-top and jean-clad hide, the best she could was hope to avoid causing a ruckus.
Though what encouraged her to hide might not have been obvious fear a few others displayed around the typical tattoo-bearing thug. No, it was the price on her head she'd carried over from city to city that had thrown this woman into such ambiguous state of being. It was unfortunate she'd never considered San Paro to, perhaps, be the wrong place to hide. It was because of such lack of consideration she hadn't been prepared, or even aware of the city's condition until now. Behind her, a noise caught her attention... with slender frame prying itself from the counter she once so delicately leaned upon, she twisted around to answer, with eyes only, the soft cry: a meager plead for help. Before her very eyes a hardened thug, desert scar around his neck to partially conceal the many tattoos that no doubt ran down from his neck to attach to the tribal spirals on his arms, was harassing a rather meek young woman. A woman who's comely features and amiable appeal attracted more than the eye from the White-haired gal sitting at the counter. When the man began to get rough, growling down into her ear, Malise got a bit confrontational- her first mistake of the night.
"Look here, Bub. How about you lay off the young woman before someone gets upset and causes trouble in this fine establishment?" Her tone was as non-threatening as possible, but that only brought a wide, sadistic grin from the man. Though his attention has been torn from the weaker woman he'd been harassing, it was now, unfortunately, upon Malise. "Trouble...?" he repeats the word with hands going out as if he'd been questioned, "Who in this fine establishment would cause such trouble around a..." he bites his bottom lip, looking her over and making the girl suddenly quite uncomfortable. "Around such a sweet little treat like you?" He finishes, taking a step closer to her- before reeling back with a cry of pain. Blood gushed from his nose, Malise having brought her fist around in a crushing blow moment prior, before throwing her knee up into the hunched-over man's stomach. When he fell to his knees, she glared down upon him, spitting out "Don't call me girl, girl." Insult to the injury, and maybe a little salt to her. She wasn't one for being lewd and spewing out obscenities, so while it may have seemed tame to others, to her it was a humiliating defeat for the poor sod on his knees.
Well, poor Sod until she noticed the badge lying on the floor. A cry brought her attention again, eyes lifting straight up towards a table of men and women, whom had stood up and produced a handful of weapons. All pointed at her. "Run!" The meek woman cried out, sprinting away- and without much thought put into it, it's all she could do. Turning about just in time and dashing towards a nearby door, a hail of bullets followed, barking at her from behind as they collided with the molding, splintering the wood around her, but leaving her ultimately unscathed. After triumphing a flight of stairs, she was on her way through the halls of a very small apartment complex above the bar below; the thugs on her tail in hot pursuit. All the while questions began running through her mind; thoughts trying to bring logic to why a thug would have had a badge- why, if they were cops, they lacked uniforms and just open fired on her like that. There hadn't even been a verbal warning! Those same thoughts, however, distracted her from her goal - leaving her oblivious to the shadow of a man that hid around the corner.
Barely having time to gasp, an armored woman spun about, into the hall, and Malise's face collided with the butt of a rifle. She was seeing stars as she fell onto her back, still clinging to consciousness, and as she started to roll over and push herself up, she felt a pinch upon her butt. About to consider how inappropriate it was for anyone to be taking the time to pinch someone's ass, she suddenly went stiff, bleating out in pain as sparks ripped through her form from toe to top. Like that, she was down, unmoving, breathing ragged.. and soon, in cuffs in the back of a colorful car marked with C.S.A Enforcers. That's about the time the wheelman started having a chat with her, despite she was barely listening. Confused and dazed, she came to again- escaping the flashback only to spy the blaring headlights of a massive armored truck to her left. Thankfully she was in the right hand, rear-passenger side. However, she also wasn't wearing a seat belt. When the car rolled, she tumbled inside, shoulder heard snapping and metal screeching out in deafening tones. Pain by now had become an abstract compared to the blurred world around her; eyes weren't making sense of things. She saw figured moving, as if they were walking on the cieling and opening doors... and then she could barely feel herself being dragged out, carried by two, one who barked out something about blood and her eyes.
Where are am I going...? Was the last thought to run through her mind before she slipped into unconsciousness, eyes barely catching a drop of blood spilling towards the rain-soaked asphalt below, only to be washed away... perhaps like the past she once lived. Her new life in San Paro was just beginning.
( I'm not the best writer but I couldn't think of a better entrance to San Paro without being flashy and completely out of character. :3 )
