Zombiedude101

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

Just popping in for a second to say that I'm still around. I'll likely get a post out today.

@Zombiedude101 Still with us?

@Vanny

Yeah, busy week mind. I'll get something out soon.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Somewhere in swampass Louisiana.

---

A faint snort of relief passed through his nostrils. Clay was glad to be somewhere with actual paved roads and buildings, not just endless backwater swampland. Though it probably was only a little different back in Memphis, the humidity felt just a little worse here, a little stickier, a little more poisonous. Whatever possessed the French to set up shop here a couple hundred years ago, he didn't rate it much.

But he was here for a reason, which had gone by the name of Eleanor Black. The recent turn of his career had been a clusterfuck - the only thing he could figure of it, and from what he had actually heard, was that Black played a part in that.

His career was all but over, he was eighty-five percent certain. Granted, charges would be difficult to stick, and the Department would've been reluctant to pursue one of its own, but the shitshow that came after Black "resigned" and skipped town was enough to almost guarantee there would be too much heat on him. On the slim odds he kept his job, that the internal review of his conduct turned up inconclusive, well... he'd be looking over his shoulders until he stepped out.

Options on where he could go from here was anyone's guess. Go private security; that was one option. Ex-law enforcement, even those with murky stories, could find work there easy enough. He'd considered it, but he'd also made a share of enemies out in Memphis. The badge wasn't a shield he could rely on anymore. Become a private investigator, well it's not like he didn't have the credentials, but he wasn't sure he wanted to spend the rest of his days casing out cheating spouses and serving court papers. Assuming the past didn't catch up with him, he could go anywhere now. It's not like he was tied down anymore.

He eyeballed the wedding band around his finger. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered taking it with him. That ship had sailed, struck an iceberg and plummeted to the depths of the ocean. He'd played his part in that breakup, but it stung nonetheless.

Death by a thousand cuts.

She wanted a family, and he'd been reluctant about the whole idea, at least at that point of his life. What did he know about being a father? He was a badge, and that was his limit. Was he even capable of being a half-decent father? What baseline point of reference did he actually have for fatherhood?

It wasn't just his old man giving him a couple lumps, though it didn't help. As a cop, he'd seen enough kids in a bad way, babies left in week old diapers next to crack pipes, toddlers sifting through and eating garbage because their folks were too busy shooting up to feed them. He hadn't realised at first, but he'd subconsciously built up a higher standard of what a parent should be - and he couldn't live up to that. Half-decent didn't cut it.

Part of him still hated her for the divorce, though. The way it was done. God dammit, he'd tried to make sure she was taken care of no matter what. They didn't lack for means, but it wasn't enough, and the extracurricular work had made Lisa suspicious. Fair, he hadn't always been at the bar like he'd sometimes said, but that didn't mean he was sleeping around. For all his failings, all his loose plays, he had been faithful to their marriage. If it wasn't for that, the house being sold off, and all the other hassle inolved, he wouldn't have even needed the money.

Frustrated, Clayton slammed a palm on his dashboard. It didn't matter. What was done, was done - and he'd not travelled all the way to bumfuck nowhere for the god damn sightseeing. Checking himself over, and making sure his things were in order, he climbed out of the car and eyeballed the sign not too far away.

"Webb Family Coffee House"

Right now, a coffee wouldn't be a bad idea. He'd missed out on that particular morning ritual for long enough.

---

@Fernstone
The Webb Family Coffee House

---

For a little while, he sat off to the side, nursing a mocha in one hand and a ring donut in the other. He was nothing, if not habitual, and a part of his old routine was as much. Others trickled into the place, meeting under this Jennifer. Most of them looked like they were kids, or close enough. And he was willing to bet they were all out of town. None of the crawdad drawl you'd get around this side of the Gulf.

Hearing the stories, for a second he considered just upping and leaving. Million dollar question - who was Eleanor Black? By the word of these guys, she'd been a mother, daughter, doctor, lover, friend - but not a cop. For a moment, he wondered if he'd been wasting his time. Maybe these people were just conspiracists on a loose trail, or Black had been playing some other game - but it didn't add up. This was the screwy thing. He'd known an Eleanor Black, and in broad strokes she shared some common factors with the others - foreign romance and parenthood excluded. As the story went, she'd come in on transfer out of Quintin, backyard swampland, and ingratiated herself with enough competency that she joined the MPD's Investigative Division. But these guys were, for the most part, describing a Black that was wholly different. But he was out of options and the alternatives weren't worth considering; either wait for the music and spend most of his remaining life in a cell, or go on the run with nothing but the clothes on his back. At least this way, he had some damage control. For now, he'd play ball, see what he could find out. Worst case scenario, he'd just delayed the inevitable.

The truth was that Black was the only other badge that knew about the money. Moreso, she was one of the only people who knew how they came across the money, and what they'd done to keep it. When he asked, nobody said a word to him. But at the same time, this didn't smell like witness protection, and witnesses generally didn't get to make off with a stash of several million dollars.

As the talk shifted to this enigmatic family matriach, Mary-Louise Black, he gulped down another mouthful of his caffeinated cocoa. It was unfolding into a wild goosechase. Haunted swamps and old slaveholder families camped out on their rotting plantations, exherting influence through some incestuous connections to the town. He got the impression, at the very least, that local law enforcement would be indifferent at best, and obstruct them at worst - he wasn't willing to play the MPD card either, just in case that pulled the wrong strings back home. Not to mention the locals probably were none too friendly, but there were a couple different answers to that problem. So speaking to the woman herself, he was willing to hold fire for a little while, let someone else tackle that alligator.

The other leads, his brow arched at. The butler wasn't a bad start. Might've had a grudge, but that might've played in his favour, having background of the family and all. The missing girls, on the other hand... how long had they been missing, one night? Something about that spooked him just a little. They were jumping to conclusions, possibly, in assuming this local doctor was involved - but he could understand some of the rationale that one might go to hit that conclusion.

"Sorry, didn't want to interrupt. I'm Carl," Clay lied, "Eleanor is... was my wife, I guess." He briefly glanced at the metal band around his ring finger, then pushed some air back through his nostrils, "And I'm just tryin' to figure out what's happened with her and us."

The best lies are grounded in truth. Mentally, he built up a small profile of this new persona - making sure not to stray too far from a real foundation.

"It makes sense what you're saying, hurts to say it, but there's a consistent trend there. The Eleanors we know walked out on all of us without a trace, as far as we can tell, so they... she probably doesn't want to be found. Same is probably gonna go for these people from the old families."

While he wanted to go after the butler, a pang of... something made him think back to the missing girls. He looked towards the English kid who claimed an Eleanor Black from Quinton, Louisiana was her mother - and her suggestion of going after the doctor. "It's not a bad idea, what were you thinking?"

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Clay

Clayton Terry

_______________________________________________ (Former) Detective Clayton Terry Him | 39 | African-American | 5'10 | 192lbs _______________________________________________ Disgraced. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents ___________________________________ [+] Casework ⫻ Nearly 20 years on the the MPD has given Clay a good set of instincts. He has an idea of the kind of questions to ask, and the buttons to push. Along with the fine intricacies of policework, he has the training and experience that any reasonably seasoned law enforcement officer would have.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ An endomorphic man approaching his mid-life years, Clay is at the point where age is starting to show. His skin is fairly weathered by the Tennessee sun, and he has calluses along his feet from walking a collective hundreds of miles on the job. He's no athlete, but he has the tone in his legs and sinew on his arms to show he's not just some desk jockey. A short layer of coarse, dark beard clings to his jawline - a similarly cropped layer of coarse, dark hair keeps the sun off the back of his head. Along his forearm up to the elbow is a scar from a field injury; the consequence of carelessly vaulting through a broken window.

_{Psychology
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Most of it's pissing in the sea."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Tie up loose ends and figure things out from there.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Clay's view to the world is to maintain a level of control, above all else. If you asked him during a forthcoming moment, he might reflect in crude terms that human nature would inevitably kick in whether or not you tried to stop it, and that energy was best directed towards steering it down the path of least resistance.

SECRETS ⫻ Aside from what is probably going to end up as a career ending disgrace, Clay has a loose end to tie up.

SEXUALITY ⫻ On-hold, on account of one dead marriage.

FEARS ⫻ Losing control of his life; dying in prison is a fairly shitty way to go. Years of work amounting to nothing.

WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ An ex-colleague, drinking buddy, and a loose end.

FLAWS ⫻ Arrogance, greed, these are a couple of the things that have laid Clay low. In his own worldview, what he's done are acceptable evils. He's not really a bad guy, it's not like he hurt anyone who didn't have it coming. In the MPD, he had a mindset that so long as he dealt with the real filth, took care of the kids and the broken birds out there, he was doing it right.

_{Backstory
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Nearly twenny years, down the fucking drain."

Clay's early life is nothing special to talk about; growing up around Memphis, his situation was far from perfect, money wasn't always on the table and his old man took a lot of it out on the kids. He got out early, spent some time living with a loose relative who's boyfriend was in the Memphis PD. Far from a saint, the guy was a complex character, but he took a liking to Clay and eventually encouraged him to join his line of work.

Clay went through the grind; training and signing on, and found he had a knack for the job. With few years or so on the beat and a couple of prior failed attempts, he made the exam for Detective and signed on as an Investigator with MPD. He started with generally honest intentions - but over time this slipped, some in part to the nature of the job, and some in part to personality. What started off with some good will eventually shifted towards what he viewed as a pragmatic approach, with some acceptable losses here, rough edges there, and skimming a little off the top every once in a while. Did it matter if he twisted someone's arm to get to the truth of a situation?

When he was hauling a stack of cash from some dope fiend's apartment, would anyone ]really miss a few thousands pocked off a stack of a quarter million dollars? Salary wasn't anything fancy after all, and it wasn't like anyone would really miss it. In the MPD, Clay found a couple of like minded officers - some who encouraged him, and some he did a little encouraging himself. Good guys, really, they just had realistic expectations of the world and how to handle it. Eleanor Black was one of them, a transfer in from some backwater sheriff's department out by the swamps. As it happened, Eleanor was another good guy, someone who Clay came to trust - as far as a badge could, anyhow.

But it fell apart. Clay went through a messy divorce, and part of that meant the financial difficulties anyone could expect. Skimming a few thousand off the top just wasn't going to cut it this time, and he got greedy. In a case where he made a multi-million dollar bust, a large M out of that fell into his and Black's care. It wasn't as clean as he wanted it to be, and he had a loose end which had to be tied up, and in the aftermath things came crashing down. Someone had sold him out; or at least said enough to cast doubt on his conduct. Clay found himself suspended. He hadn't been charged... yet, and when he considered his escape options - Black was gone, along with his retirement fund. Word was she'd resigned and gone back to her hometown, somewhere in the armpit of the South.

His career circling the toilet, his retirement options gone and a key witness against him possibly out there with his money, he took a vacation - a road trip to Louisiana. Better to get ahead of things while he could.

Recollections: Who Is Eleanor Black [CANCELLED]

Sorry for the delay GN, my team just took on responsibility for a poorly run client account last week (with me being the SME for that on account of history with them) and my spare time was eaten up dealing with some dumb escalations and staff shortages. Anyhow, I have a long weekend and don't go back till Monday next week. Without further ado:

Clay

Clayton Terry

_______________________________________________ (Former) Detective Clayton Terry Him | 39 | African-American | 5'10 | 192lbs _______________________________________________ Disgraced. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents ___________________________________ [+] Casework ⫻ Nearly 20 years on the the MPD has given Clay a good set of instincts. He has an idea of the kind of questions to ask, and the buttons to push. Along with the fine intricacies of policework, he has the training and experience that any reasonably seasoned law enforcement officer would have.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ An endomorphic man approaching his mid-life years, Clay is at the point where age is starting to show. His skin is fairly weathered by the Tennessee sun, and he has calluses along his feet from walking a collective hundreds of miles on the job. He's no athlete, but he has the tone in his legs and sinew on his arms to show he's not just some desk jockey. A short layer of coarse, dark beard clings to his jawline - a similarly cropped layer of coarse, dark hair keeps the sun off the back of his head. Along his forearm up to the elbow is a scar from a field injury; the consequence of carelessly vaulting through a broken window.

_{Psychology
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Most of it's pissing in the sea."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ Tie up loose ends and figure things out from there.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Clay's view to the world is to maintain a level of control, above all else. If you asked him during a forthcoming moment, he might reflect in crude terms that human nature would inevitably kick in whether or not you tried to stop it, and that energy was best directed towards steering it down the path of least resistance.

SECRETS ⫻ Aside from what is probably going to end up as a career ending disgrace, Clay has a loose end to tie up.

SEXUALITY ⫻ On-hold, on account of one dead marriage.

FEARS ⫻ Losing control of his life; dying in prison is a fairly shitty way to go. Years of work amounting to nothing.

WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ An ex-colleague, drinking buddy, and a loose end.

FLAWS ⫻ Arrogance, greed, these are a couple of the things that have laid Clay low. In his own worldview, what he's done are acceptable evils. He's not really a bad guy, it's not like he hurt anyone who didn't have it coming. In the MPD, he had a mindset that so long as he dealt with the real filth, took care of the kids and the broken birds out there, he was doing it right.

_{Backstory
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"Nearly twenny years, down the fucking drain."

Clay's early life is nothing special to talk about; growing up around Memphis, his situation was far from perfect, money wasn't always on the table and his old man took a lot of it out on the kids. He got out early, spent some time living with a loose relative who's boyfriend was in the Memphis PD. Far from a saint, the guy was a complex character, but he took a liking to Clay and eventually encouraged him to join his line of work.

Clay went through the grind; training and signing on, and found he had a knack for the job. With few years or so on the beat and a couple of prior failed attempts, he made the exam for Detective and signed on as an Investigator with MPD. He started with generally honest intentions - but over time this slipped, some in part to the nature of the job, and some in part to personality. What started off with some good will eventually shifted towards what he viewed as a pragmatic approach, with some acceptable losses here, rough edges there, and skimming a little off the top every once in a while. Did it matter if he twisted someone's arm to get to the truth of a situation?

When he was hauling a stack of cash from some dope fiend's apartment, would anyone ]really miss a few thousands pocked off a stack of a quarter million dollars? Salary wasn't anything fancy after all, and it wasn't like anyone would really miss it. In the MPD, Clay found a couple of like minded officers - some who encouraged him, and some he did a little encouraging himself. Good guys, really, they just had realistic expectations of the world and how to handle it. Eleanor Black was one of them, a transfer in from some backwater sheriff's department out by the swamps. As it happened, Eleanor was another good guy, someone who Clay came to trust - as far as a badge could, anyhow.

But it fell apart. Clay went through a messy divorce, and part of that meant the financial difficulties anyone could expect. Skimming a few thousand off the top just wasn't going to cut it this time, and he got greedy. In a case where he made a multi-million dollar bust, a large M out of that fell into his and Black's care. It wasn't as clean as he wanted it to be, and he had a loose end which had to be tied up, and in the aftermath things came crashing down. Someone had sold him out; or at least said enough to cast doubt on his conduct. Clay found himself suspended. He hadn't been charged... yet, and when he considered his escape options - Black was gone, along with his retirement fund. Word was she'd resigned and gone back to her hometown, somewhere in the armpit of the South.

His career circling the toilet, his retirement options gone and a key witness against him possibly out there with his money, he took a vacation - a road trip to Louisiana. Better to get ahead of things while he could.

REZORT: VACATION FROM HELL

Say @Vanny, are you still accepting char sheets? I've this loose idea of a sleeper hit type celebrity (thinking actor/performer) with a Yorkshire (think Sheffield Pub Dweller) accent ending up tangled in this affair.

Shelter: A Zombie Survival Story

Is there any possibility you'd be willing to facilitate a player playing as a member of the faculty? Nothing perverse, before people get that impression. I can send you a rough idea of my character if you're not sure.

Thornwood Asylum For The Criminal Insane- A Villain Roleplay. (Closed Indefinitely)

Glad you got this going. I just got swamped with 60-80hr weeks on-call. Major Inc Management is a good gig though.

The Borehole - A Supervillain Prison Break

Still intending to do this, just got a little more overwhelmed by work at a nee job than I planned. Keep em rolling folks.

The Borehole - A Supervillain Prison Break

This looks interesting! I only saw the IC today, so I was wondering how long the OOC will be open for before the RP starts? If not very long, I wouldn't want you to wait on my behalf as I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow and I know I likely won't be alert enough to make a CS for at least a day or two.

Or maybe if this is starting soon and there's a way to jump in during the RP (maybe helping the prison break or something, I dunno), I can do that.

@Zapdos

Throw it in if you want to work on something. I'm getting tied by by work myself at the moment.

The Borehole - A Superhuman Prison Break RP

Space still available? It sounds interesting

@Kazemitsu

You're welcome to throw in a CS, aye.