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You Can't Take
The Razorback

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Nova Roma

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Character Quote: why are you screaming?
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Age: 28
Player: noiz
Joined: 16-May 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Aug 14 2018, 07:01 AM
Local Time: Aug 15 2018, 03:27 PM
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My Content
Apr 9 2018, 06:43 PM
Her house, in all of its glory, with all of its immaculately decorated glamour, seemed a foreign and strange place now that she was back and seeing exactly what all had been destroyed. The empty spaces where trinkets and knick knacks once sat were a grim reminder of what happened in January. It made her insanely uncomfortable, being in her own home after such a long time. Of course, she didn't think it had been long at all, but she knew that over a month had passed and the only people to touch her house had been a cleanup crew, and most recently, a maid.

Even after she returned from the Savage Land, she had been avoiding going home. The very idea that the place she should feel the safest had been violated by a handful of intruders, and now she couldn't help but look around every corner when walking around. It was uncomfortable and weird, and ever little creak of the house settling was making her uncomfortable. At least the steady thrum of rain hitting her roof and windows helped make her feel a little more at ease, but she was still compulsively doing a full sweep of a room before entering it, and leaving a light on in almost every room of the house.

She almost wished she hadn't sent Ashton home so early in the day.

Her brother had come up for a visit at her request, because she didn't want to be alone in her home and because she wanted to just spend time with her little brother after not seeing him in so long. He'd been understanding as usual, not really pressing her for answers as to what kind of chaos her life had crumbled to, but he'd made himself clear that he expected explanations eventually. She'd agreed with him on that, the poor man deserved to know everything, especially after he'd been the one to find her after her attack.

She just didn't want to explain everything to him yet, she didn't know exactly how. All she wanted was to go shopping around antique stores with her baby brother and try to replace the various trinkets and decorations that had been destroyed. He'd helped her arrange her new purchases around her house, helping fill only a few of the many empty spaces, and then they'd parted ways, leaving her alone in her home for the first time since January 17th.

It wasn't doing her any good to sit here alone and stew in her anger. That was why she'd given Sabretooth a call and requested he make an appearance. He should have some good news for her anyway, considering he'd had all the time in the world to take care of the one tiny little task she'd charged him with. For Victor Creed, killing five stupid little men shouldn't be an issue.

She paced about her home as she waited, her bare feet padding softly across the hardwoods floors. Making her way into her kitchen, she looked at her wine rack for a few moments, trying to decide which bottle she wanted to dive into. After an agonizing moment she wrapped her slender hand around the neck of a bottle and withdrew it from the rack, uncorking it with practiced ease and pouring herself a glass, only pausing to smooth her hands over the front of her dress when she heard the front door open.

“I hope that's you Victor, and you'd better have brought me a present. I've had a hard time lately you know, it's only what's considerate.” The smirk in her voice was obvious as she grabbed her wine glass and made her way to the front hallway, poking her head out just enough so she could be seen. He'd openly admitted to being in her home before, so she didn't feel the need to show him around for a house tour.

“Come on then, this way. Was the drive easy enough?”
Nov 10 2017, 12:33 AM
She was feeling better, at least physically. She was sure she would be plagued by actual nightmares after all of this was said and done, but she'd yet to get any real sleep, so she couldn't be all that sure of how the psychological trauma was going to affect her just yet. All she knew for certain was, she couldn't go home for a long while. She wouldn't feel safe there, not alone anyways. Someone had wanted her hurt and knew where she lived and that was enough to turn her off from going back to her home. She rearranged and brushed out her hair for the hundredth time since she'd gone back to her room. It was good to be back in her own clothes as opposed to the sweats her brother had let her borrow.

Now that she was in a set of her own pajamas and among comfortable surroundings, she'd had time to properly think about what her next plan of action would be. She knew she recognized some of the men that broke into her home, she simply had to sit and think on it for a moment to dredge their names up from the banks of her memory. She sat at her vanity with a pen and paper, scribbling the names down as they came to her, though she could only come up with two. She knew the other three men were most likely associates and therefore known to her as well, but some of them she only saw in passing while they were ravaging her and her home. She looked down at the paper in front of her, her smooth handwriting staring back at her with blank honesty. At least she had two names.

She looked at herself in the mirror, relieved to see that any and all facial swelling was completely gone. She'd been a real mess, she couldn't deny it, but she'd been able to sit and apply her face, and after a while her hands had stopped shaking from the catharsis that dolling herself up always brought. She knew it was pointless to make an effort to look so pristine when no one would really see her again before bed, but it was so calming to glide the liner onto her lids and smooth the red crème over her lips. Some people needed alcohol to calm their nerves, all Samara needed was a full makeup bag and a mirror. Not that alcohol hadn't been a help at the current moment either. She'd only hat two sips of the whiskey that sit on her vanity top, but she had the full intent to get more into it, once her final task of the night was finished.

With a quiet breath, she stood and put her robe on, the one she'd previously gone ghost hunting in, and smoothed it over herself once it was properly tied and in place. She carefully folded the paper she'd been writing on, and the snatched the bottle of whiskey before she made her way out of her room and into the hallway, her bare feet carrying her almost soundlessly to the door of the few men she knew could do this job with as much brutality that was required. Her face was set into a sort of grim look, and it was strange. Usually she maintained such an aloof facial expression it seemed as though Samara didn't care about anything at all, but at this moment it looked like she had the weight of the world on her mind and shoulders. Stopping in front of the door in question, she did not knock, he'd probably hear her coming anyway, so with a fluid motion she turned the knob and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold with the confidence of the diva she was.

She closed the door behind her, then turned to face Sabretooth. “Victor Creed, I have come to make you the offer of a lifetime.”
Nov 9 2017, 11:59 PM
Whoever designed crutches had no idea what the hell they were doing. They were not ergonomic, they were not stylish, they were not helpful, and they certainly were not comfortable. Samara would be lucky if she didn't end up with bruised armpits on top of all the other injuries she'd amassed over the past twenty four hours. The frown on her face seemed as though it were carved in marble and not in flesh, it was set so firmly. She couldn't imagine anyone coming home from the hospital with a smile on their face after going through what she'd gone through.

It had been hell, absolute hell. The only relief she'd gotten was when she was unconscious, and even that was in and out. She knew she'd lay at the foot of her stairs for several hours, fading in and out and unable to move. It had been a true blessing that her brother had stopped by for a surprise visit, or else who knew how long she'd have been laying there. What hadn't been a blessing was Ashton's decision to call an ambulance and have the whole dog and pony show arrive outside of her home. She tried to tell him, she really did, she tried to tell him not to call police, but to call Ash and get him to her place. Of course the words didn't come out, it was insanely difficult to speak when your jaw had been dislocated after all.

She'd been treated for her injuries, and once she was deemed stable she'd insisted that she be discharged. That had caused an uproar alright, the doctors and nurses wanted her to stay for observation, she had head injuries, they needed to make sure she didn't have any undetected complications, blah blah blah. She'd dismissed them with a simple wave of her hand and a firm reminder that she was well within her legal rights to leave. Ashton had pleaded with her, begged her not to leave the hospital, but once she had him cornered in the car, she simply informed him that she had a personal doctor she would much prefer to see.

That sparked a whole new argument with her brother, but Samara had been able to silence him long enough, and she'd been able to placate him. She would explain everything once she was recovered and back home, but first she needed to go to New York City. He'd sputtered and fought, but in the end she was taken to NYC and allowed to go on her way. She'd hugged and kissed her sweet brother goodbye, and it really killed her to see how utterly destroyed he looked, but she reassured him that things would be alright soon enough.

She hadn't realized though, that driving the shirt distance from her brother's home to Station M would take so much out of her, and no one told her that getting out of a car with no help and needing crutches was such an inconvenience either.

She was very thankful though, when she had managed to get herself into the commons of Station M, easing herself through the door with an exasperated sigh and a groan. She really tried to smile when she saw Brother Bear, she wanted to smile at him like she always did, but everything hurt too much and she was just so damn angry with the whole world, all that she could manage was a thin and obviously forced grin.

“Hello dear, I'm here for my appointment.”


Brother Bear first, then it's a free for all <3
Nov 6 2017, 10:37 PM
This text was mass sent to everyone in Samara's phone, so if your character ever gave Samara their number, they'd get it.

[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">This is Samara's brother Ashton. I'm sorry you all have to find out like this but my sister has been attacked and is currently in hospital being worked on. Doctors say it's a little touch and go but they think she'll be alright, she's been waking up on and off and she's awake right now, if she stays awake it'll be for the best. I'll keep everyone updated, please keep my sister in your thoughts.</p>[/doHTML]

Brother Bear 5:47 PM January 17
[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">Ash dear, I'm going to be coming back to the Station very late tonight, I'll let you know later a more precise time, but I'm going to need your help, everything hurts.</p>[/doHTML]

Nov 2 2017, 01:07 PM
Station M was comfortable, Samara felt quite at home there and would never think twice about utilizing the quarters she kept there, but there was just something about her bed at home that really put her at ease. Perhaps it was the way she never had to worry about encountering someone on a late night trip to the kitchen, or the way she could just get down to a certain task and not worry about being in someone's way, despite how much she adored the mutants she called friends and teammates she did quite enjoy her privacy.

She'd never glide about the base in naught but her lingerie and a robe, it was brazen and not at all ladylike, especially since she hadn't decided that she was trying to seduce anyone from the Brotherhood at the current moment. Sure, she would probably show off new articles to her female friends there, but that was in the privacy of their bedrooms. Sometimes, when a woman was having an off day, she just needed to do whatever it took to feel her best, and sometimes whatever it took meant strutting your stuff in your cutest undergarments while listening to Glen Miller.

It was true, even Samara was capable of having an off day. She'd been unable to shake a dreary feeling from her shoulders, and people back at the Station had taken notice, so she'd decided a week or so at home would be exactly what she needed, if just to be herself and have the freedom to walk around however she pleased and readjust herself until she was feeling chipper again. She suspected that her dour mood was residual from the whole inauguration fiasco. Sighing at the very thought she poured herself a third glass of wine and retreated back into her bedroom, sprawling herself on her bed and balancing her wine glass precariously in her hand. What a mess that had turned out to be. She scowled a little before closing her eyes and exhaling slowly, it wouldn't do her any good to get upset about it all over again. It was all said and done and there was nothing she could have done to stop it, except for maybe sell herself as the terrified damsel in distress harder, which would have looked fake.

Rolling herself slightly she took a sip of her wine and took her phone out of her pocket, flicking through all of her social media, quickly realizing she would get no distraction there either, yet after a brief pause a rather devious smirk played across her lips as she got an idea and rolled with it. It had been a long time since she'd attempted a decent selfie, usually allowing others to photograph her and paying money for guaranteed results. Snapping a few she let out an airy chuckle and swiped through them, quickly deciding which one looked best and sent it, as always, being picky about who got to see it. She wasn't the type to just send a selfie to anyone, especially a selfie that was obviously taken in the comfort of her bedroom while she was in close to nothing but a robe. She laughed out loud, enjoying her moments to herself. It had been a good long while since she's been able to just goof off a little, she'd had be to be so poised and put together lately it was starting to feel more like a task than a personal preference.

With the soft tunes still floating through her house, she relaxed back into her pillows and decided now was as good a time as ever to settle in for the night. Raising her glass to her lips the took another sip of wine, intent on finishing it off before she drifted off to start a new day. She paused, only for a moment when she head a peculiar sound that almost sounded like a car door slamming. She wasn't expecting guests at all, and since she had no neighbors close by it was a very strange sound to hear at all, but when her doorbell didn't raise the alarm she shrugged and figured maybe she'd left her television on downstairs. It wouldn't have been the first time, so with a bit of wobbly grace she slid from her bed, wine glass in one hand and phone in the other, she made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs into her living room, and upon hearing voices and a small commotion she assumed that yes, she'd left it on some kind of bad teen movie. If she hadn't had nearly a bottle of wine she would have questioned it a little more, but with confident steps she crossed into the room in question and was confused at the lack of activity coming from the tv.

A small from crossed her lips as she backed out of the living room and looked around. She knew she'd heard something, something that hadn't been music and now obviously hadn't been a forgotten television program. Her green eyes darted around her dark house, wandering back toward her kitchen, almost willing to forget she'd heard anything. Ash and his ghost hunting must have put some strange ideas in her head and had her convinced she was hearing things. Turning on the dims in her kitchen she padded over to where she'd left her almost finished bottle of wine. It wouldn't hurt just to top her current glass off would it? She didn't have plans for the morning, she could afford to sleep in a little.

She stopped mid pour when she heard the voices again, this time louder, yet still indistinguishable. Her brow furrowed more as her head whipped around to look at her surrounding to see if maybe someone was playing some kind of prank on her but she didn't get the opportunity to investigate thanks to the sound of glass shattering from across the kitchen. Whirling around she saw them, three figures standing at the now broken sliders that lead out onto her patio. Her mouth dropped into an 'o' of surprise before she took a few steps backward, grabbing onto the counter to keep herself from tipping backward in her shock. They didn't hesitate like she did though, they were over the threshold in moments and were closing in on her. On sheer impulse she grabbed the wine bottle and hurled it at her attackers, and she didn't stop to see if the projectile made contact. She whirled around and dashed for the hallway, where she knew she'd be able to make it to a more secure room of the house but as she whirled around a corned she crashed into something that definitely wasn't one of her knick-knack cabinets. A fourth a fifth man, who made grabs at her but she backpedaled quickly enough to dart away and head to the staircase with a barely contained shout of pure surprise. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was stupid to scream, but she wasn't exactly thinking coherently.

Sprinting toward the stairs she was caught off guard when a sharp tug on the back of her robe slowed her and a large hand wrapping itself in her hair stopped her short. In one brief second she was whirled around and something large and hard came into abrupt contact with her face, and she instinctively dropped the full wine glass, sending more broken glass and alcohol scattering across the floor. She'd never been struck with such ferocity before, and she wasn't even given time to recover before the hand that held her phone was jerked around behind her, forcing her to drop the device in the same motion. The backs of her knees were kicked and stomped down on harshly, bringing her to the hardwood floor with a rather sickening crack and pain shot straight upward from both of the joints. One of the men was holding her from behind, that much was certain, and now she was on her knees in front of another one, who was scowling down at her with such intent she almost wanted to shrink away from the intensity of it. Wait, she recognized that face-

She didn't get to put a name to it before his fist came into contact with her face again, causing her to grunt in the most undignified way imaginable and sag to one side as her vision exploded with stars. She tasted copper and knew that meant something in her mouth was bleeding, but she was thrown the rest of the way down so harshly she didn't get the chance to figure out exactly where from. Glass dug into her palms and other bits of exposed skin and she whimpered. They were shouting insults at her now, much to her confusion. Sure she'd been insulted before but she felt she hadn't done anything to really warrant them this time, nor had she done anything to deserve such a vicious attack. She heard the sounds of things falling and breaking, and of men whooping and hollering, the sound of pure joyous malice if she ever heard it. Who knew what the other three men were doing at this moment, but she knew she had to at least try to make a stand.

“...g-get out...” She choked out, blood spraying from her mouth as she looked up at her attackers one last time. They really didn't seem to like that. The one that had been behind her reeled his booted foot back and landed a hard kick square into the small of her back, eliciting a scream from her and sending her writhing on the hardwood floor to try and escape the pain. The one who's been punching her in the face, the one she recognized, crouched down and grabbed her by the bangs, jerking her head up just enough so he could snarl in her face, the smell of halitosis and cognac on his breath making her cringe away.

“You get out, mutant bitch. There's no place for you here, you and your terrorist friends get the fuck out of this country.” He slammed her head down onto the hardwood floor again, and she felt the blows coming from both sides now. She didn't know if they were just kicking her or if they were hitting her with something, but as she curled in on herself, the stomps and blows elicited screams of pure agony from her.

It didn't take long for everything to go black once something hard hit her in the back of the head.


January 17th, 10 AM

Ashton Vane had decided, today was the day he was going to surprise his big sister with a visit. He barely ever came up to her house, she usually visited him, but this time, he wanted a change of scenery, and hopefully since they were in her home he could convince her to make some of those mararons he liked, the ones that tasted like raspberry cheesecake. He sent a small glance over at the plate of fudge he'd carefully placed onto the passenger seat of his car and chuckled to himself for the hundredth time that morning. She'd given him her recipe years ago, and he was still trying to make it as good as she did. He was under the impression though, that this time he'd outdone himself and that he had a plate full of contenders.

She'd no doubt give him another recipe to master, making his effort all for naught, but he enjoyed the little games they played, and he enjoyed his sister's company. Dare he say he loved her on some occasions, but that was kept on the down low. He didn't need his big sister thinking he'd gone soft with all that mushy stuff.

A smirk very reminiscent of Samara's own was plastered to his face as he pulled into her driveway, pleased to see that her car was still there and she hadn't dashed out for any morning errands. He'd sent her a few texts and left a voicemail but hadn't heard back yet, and he really hoped his trip wasn't going to be a waste. Then again if he showed up while she was out it was the perfect opportunity to hide in her house and try to scare her when she came home, even though that never worked. The woman was a stone wall when it came to getting scared, he just didn't get it.

Getting out of his car with his platter of offerings in hand he strut up to her front door but slowed to a halt when he saw the door was wide open. It was definitely too cold out for her to be just airing out the house, and resuming his pace he approached the door to examine it. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the door had been forced open, and without a moment's hesitation he pressed forward, confusion all over his face as he heard one of Samara's favorite songs being blared loudly from the bluetooth speakers she had installed around the house.

“Missy? Missy, are you in here? What happened to the door?”
Maybe she'd locked herself out and needed to force the door? He half expected her to come stomping out of her kitchen with her hands on her hips, giving him a scolding for the nickname she hated so much. He headed straight for the kitchen, putting the fudge on the counter before he noticed the slider was broken and there was a shattered bottle of wine on the floor. He gulped audibly and turned on his heel, powering through the house shouting for his sister.

“Missy? MISSY? Are you home? Samara-” He'd checked the living room, the dining room, the den, and when he came upon the staircase he stopped short and choked on his words.

There was his sister, laying in a sprawled heap, and he didn't know if the puddle around her was wine, blood, or a weird mix of the two. “Oh fuck.” He sprinted over to his sister's prone form, tears already streaming down his face out of his control. Ashton always did cry easily.

“Samara, Samara are you alright?” He cradled her head and grimaced at the blood that matted her hair. A tiny whimper was all he was rewarded with, and a small darting of her still closed eyes. Blind panic rose through Ashton's chest and into his throat, and he fumbled with both keeping his sister cradled in his arms and pulling his phone out of his pocket. The call was frantic, he's nearly forgotten his sister's address in his panic, his voice cracked more than once, he sobbed at least four times, and when the operator said that help was on its way, he broke down into the ugliest crying he was capable of. He dropped his phone on the hard wood and held his limp sister to his chest, if only to comfort himself and let her know that she wasn't all by herself anymore. Lord knew how long she'd been laying like this, and when his vision cleared for a moment, he hazarded a glance around the house, taking in the destruction that lay before the both of them, what struck him hardest though, was the ugly graffiti that was sprayed all over the walls.

'mutants not welcome'

Blink Brother Bear Catseye Deathstrike Exodus Hardwire Miko Mimic Notion Pyro Rat Sabretooth Savage Scarlet Witch Seamus Mellencamp Senyaka Spark Toad

Tagging all BH members just to they see what happened to Samara. I will post for her again later today that people can actually respond to.
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skinned by missy at atf, caution, & shine.
cfs by black and code script by nicole.