[the name of this rp game is what if... What if Jason never married Melissa? Or what if Gathero never left Brenton? What if this and what if that. In this thread, the stories will be alternates. Something that could of happend but did not. such as when Johnny tried to take Melissa away, what if she had gone with him? So here you can write up a post about that what if question and wonder how your character`s life could had been different! You will need to put a rating of course and you can only do from your prospective of the story, using other characters and doing a rp as them is a bad thing. I`ll write an example post.]
The sun was bright, the skies were blue. Tragedy should had struck this morning, but it did not. The village was peaceful and Kohana was heading to town. He had taken a job as a railroad worker to be able to buy a house. It was a nice house bordering the plains, not too far from the river. He met up with his soon to be father in law and shook his hand. The preist was there as well. The bear was getting ready for his baptism so he could be married to the beautiful Eliza.
This morning, tragedy should had struck, but all was quiet indeed. Kohana signed the few required papers and got the key to his house. With a scarf on Eliza`s eyes, he carried her to their new home, with her hand in his, he showed her the kitchen, the room, the livingroom and all the other rooms in there. He took her to the barn, showing her where she would be keeping her horses...
It was but a week later that church bells rung. The lovely mink in a pale purple dress walking out of the church with a very happy bear. A simple treatee had been signed by the government and the bear`s father, which had prevented the army from comming in and destroying all. Kohanna would live happy with his beloved Eliza, working hard... Nine months after the wedding, the two would be proud parents of a little girl.... What if the governor had indeed signed that paper....?
New York City, Endymien. [What if Endymien had grown up in the orphanage instead of the monastary. Same exact moment as would be in Brenton.] [R]
The dirty summer rain fell through between tall brick buildings, kicking up the stink of fish and feces. Clean cut Endymien sat in a room with a red cloth hanging at the window, next to another room with the red light glowing to the street below. The whole building stunk strongly of liquor and sex. The face at the table much the same as the banker of Brenton, but a different glow to it. Unrestrained, uncut, and a look that said capable of becoming frightfully angry.
Other men at the table, less clean and sweat covered with shifty eyes poured over the paper. "Look boys. Nothing to it." Pen scratched away some numbers as the thick accent poured out harshly. "Consider, if you will my good mates, the shipments that just came in. Sailors looking to cash their payrole, ri'? Seven ships, have ya, each hundred or over men to sail'em. Now, if ya think bout how each those men gotta get cash same day from same bank.. what you say you used to get paid Joe?"
Shifty eyed bulldog looked out the window and scratched his grease-pit called hair, "two dollars a week, but that aint 'cloodin' the captain and officers. What ya gettin at Demi."
"What I am getting at, my good old friend. If they take out of the safe enough for pay, like ya been sayin', then do the math." More scribbling on paper. "That means there is at least hundred forty thousand notes sittin there easy as nuthin. No needin to go to the safe, no needin to notify authority. In and out job, boys!"
Bulldog Joe scratched again, Demi looking a bit like he would be sick from the dirt. "So, da three of us split hundred forty. Wazat make it, Demi?"
"Assuming that is an underestimate, roughly fifty thousand each." The grey tabby sighed, some of the black hair falling from behind his ear. "May I suggest that you take a bath tonight, I'm afraid they'll smell you a mile away. It would do you well."
For the first time the last man spoke. Deep, handsome voice matched with light hair and dark eyes. A mutt, but a beautiful mutt. "Well, princess Demi. Not all of us like to smell beautiful like the ladies. Don't get your skirt all bunched up!"
In a moment the grey tabby snapped. In a fluid feline movement the dogs wrist was grabbed, his body yanked toward Endymien. In the other paw a gun held pointed sharply in the gut. A look of surprise and fear now took over the mutt’s visage, and one of insanity snapped into anger on the cat's. "You know, my friend. I don't like it when people make jokes about what sorta company I keep." His brought his face close to the mutt’s, lips nearly touching his. "Money could be more split between two, right Joe?"
"Could it Demi?" Joe fit the bill well. Stink and muscle, but less brain than a fly.
"It could, Joe. Shame he's so pretty though." He said the last bit to himself, Cheshire grin spreading madly. "You remind me of this old friend I used to have. He was a pretty boy too." Lips pressed harsh and angrily at the mutt’s, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed as he pulled away.
Just as suddenly as he pulled the mut to him, he shoved him away. The dog fell on his back to the floor. The three sat in silence for the shortest of moments before insane laughter came rolling out of Endymien's mouth. Soon the other two joined him. Joe in confusion and the dog in relief to have his life. Once the laughter had died, Endymien looked to the dog on the floor. "Princess, it is a shame you are so handsome." Gun aimed at his chest and shot three times, a shrill cry from the room next to them.
"Did yer have ta do that, Demi?" Joe crinkled his already smashed up nose.
"Do that math, wouldn't you rather have seventy five thousand? Tomorrow morning, you will be that much richer."
"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration." -Charles Dickens
[ What if Jack's parents had lived? Where would he be now? Note: I was listening to Aerosmith's song, Amazing, while typing this up. ]
“ Thunder “ John Radison jogged triumphantly through the dirt pathway, sunlight flickering through well placed holes above the staging area. Terry Gardens was an up and coming theater, with a circular middle surrounded by what seemed like chairs all around that vanished into the horizon. Every, single, one of them was filled for this momentous occasion in Boxing history. The Thunder Brothers were going to brawl, for the world champion title. He had fought through every country on the free world with inspiration from the very person he was about to fight. Jack Radison had fought the same world, and left it hankerin' for revenge when John did his circuit. It was left angry, harsh, unforgiving, and just plain unfair. That is why he would win. Those were the challenges people would write about in his autobiographies. Those would be the same trials another would take before even hoping to take him down.
“ Thunder “ Jack Radison was in the middle of the arena, which was the center of the storm compared to the cheering crowds whistles, pledges of love, hate, and endearment. In all of them, he saw them in the very front row, right where they said they'd be. In his youth his father had always looked upon them with sunken hopelessness; begrudgingly calling them his sons due to the woman on his shoulders drunken mistake with another man. Before the fight, he talked to both of his sons, and finally, truly called them that for the first time of their lives. “ CLEAN HIS CLOCK JOHN! I”VE GOT TEN ON YOU! “ “ JACK! JAAAACK! BE THE BIGGER BROTHER! “ “ GIVE 'EM HELL SONS! “ “ KILL HIM! NO MERCY! “ “ I”M PROUD OF YOU, BOTH OF YOU! “ [/b] In all the fanfare, Jack could swear he could easily make out the voices of them among the hundreds, no, thousands. Yet, they all fade away as Jack locks eyes with his brother, who finally comes in an attempt to dethrone the King. They were twins; mountains of muscle tempered from years of training and hardship culminating up to this moment. Even when the Referee calls the match to a start, the brothers simply stare one another down, much to the crowds displeasure. Slowly, but surely both of them raise the padded leather worn around their calloused fists, and meet them together. With a cocky grin, John says, “ Brothers forever, right? “ Jack grins in return, “ Forever. “
What if Gath's brother hadn't died, but was wounded bad enough that he was crippled?
The coyote laid low on the rooftops waiting. Well this was a tough assignment. It had come through the mail with a heafty down payment. His employer had given him all the details he needed for traveling, including a fake new name, a history and such belonging to an actor. It was certainly very well prepared. Ever since the incident, his brother had been bedridden and Gath had to take on supporting the both of them. By day he was an honest salesman just working in a shop, but by night, the coyote took part in activites that his brother would not approve of. Stealing, carrying out a hit, smuggling, all sorts, just not kidnapping. That was way too troublesome. You had to keep them alive. Assassination was his specialty, he never once missed with his faithful rifle and it earned him enough money, and enemies but no one knew his identity. Gath was careful about it. All they knew was that the Black Assassin never missed. An uncreative name for sure, but it worked.
Today the target was someone special and he had been spending time tracking the movements of his target for the past few days, receiving updates from his employer and from the folks in the street. Gath felt bad lying to his brother about the real intentions behind the long business trip, but he had hired a reliable nurse to take care of Tomas while he was away.
Gath laid still for a while, he had seen his target enter the theatre opposite of the rooftops and so far, no one knew he was there. Even if anyone found him, they wouldn't recognise him for he had dyed his fur all black to blend into the night. While waiting, he wondered if it was truly a good thing to be assassinating this target. After all, he was an important person. Still he was in too deep and had a reputation to keep.
The door of the theatre opened and people flooded out slowly, chattering about the play. Gath continued waiting, his target would come soon and finally he saw him. A single shot rang out, it's bullet finding it's mark. A cry of horror rose from the man's companions as he fell down, a bullet hole through his head. Folks tried to see where the assassin had come from but Gath had vanished into the night.
That night, Abraham Lincoln died.
The man where Gath's roof had borrowed for the night said he was given the name John Wilkes Booth who had borrowed the rooftop to carry out some scientific experienments involving looking at the stars.
This was one payment Gath was not going to claim, and one that he would regret. He never went back home although the occasional letter came with payment for the nurse, but whatever happened to him, was a mystery. However, those who knew the true happenings of that night never spoke about it although rumours flew, that the Black Assassin was the one who had carried out the deed and that his prices now, were higher and his hits, rarer.
+++ Divide By Cucumber Error. Please Reinstall Universe And Reboot +++