TRAIL OF TEARS -ROWEN-

[PHILLIPA JEAN REGAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] dying on A TRAIL OF TEARS PHILLIPA HAD RECEIVED THE INVITATION TO ATTEND THE EVENT WHICH WAS ESSENTIALLY AN ENGAGEMENT PARTY FOR ONE OF THE BIGGEST CRIMINALS IN ALL OF BOSTON. SHE HAD A LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH CONNOR SELWYN. WITHOUT HIM AND HIS MURDEROUS RAMPAGE, SHE WOULD STILL BE A PUPPET SLAVE TO THE RUSSIAN MAFIA. BUT HE WAS STILL A CRIMINAL. HE BASICALLY OWNED BOSTON, AND SHE HATED HIM FOR IT. BUT SHE COULDN'T FORGET THE DEBT SHE FELT IN HER SOUL FOR HIM FREEING HER EVEN IF IT HADN'T BEEN AN INTENTIONAL RESULT. IT WAS THAT REMINDER SHE KEPT HER IN MIND SO SHE COULD HATE HIM: HE HADN'T INTENDED TO FREE HER. IT WAS JUST A HAPPY RESULT OF THE CARNAGE HE'D INFLICTED. SHE'D ESCAPED WITH HER LIFE BECAUSE THE SLAVES ESCAPED WHEN THEIR CAPTORS WERE MURDERED. SHE DIDN'T MISS NATALIA OR ANY OF THE OTHERS. SHE WAS GLAD THEY WERE DEAD, HONESTLY. SHE'D BEEN RAPED AND ABUSED BECAUSE OF THAT WOMAN. SHE'D BEEN DEGRADED AND TURNED INTO A COURT JESTER ALL FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF THE RUSSIAN WOMAN AND HER GUESTS. PHILLIPA HAD HATED THEM, AND THAT WAS WHAT HELPED HER UPHOLD HER PROMISE TO HER FATHER TO CLEAN UP BOSTON. AS THE MAYOR OF THE CITY WHEN HE'D BEEN KILLED, HE HAD TAKEN THE PROMISE TO HEART TO PROTECT THE CITY. WHEN HE'D SEEN HIS OWN LIFE ENDING, HE'D ENTRUSTED HER WITH THAT GOAL, AND SHE HAD VOWED TO UPHOLD HIS WISHES. THREE YEARS LATER, SHE FINALLY HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO. DRESSED IN A BLACK IRIDESCENT DRESS THAT CAME HALFWAY DOWN HER HIPS, BARELY CUPPING HER ROUND BUTT NICELY, SHE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL ON THE CASINO BOAT, HER HAZEL-GREEN EYES SCANNING THE FACES AT THE TABLES. ROULETTE PINGED OFF TO HER RIGHT AS BLACK JACK PLAYED OUT FARTHER IN THE DISTANCE TO THE LEFT. JAZZ MUSIC PLAYED OVER SPEAKERS FROM THE LIVE BAND SOMEWHERE ON THE VESSEL, AND SERVERS MOVED EFFORTLESSLY THROUGH THE CROWDS OFFERING BEVERAGES AND EVEN HOR D'OEUVRES. POLITELY REFUSING A WAITER WITH A PASSING TRAY OF CHAMPAGNE, SHE CAUGHT SIGHT OF CONNOR SELWYN AND HIS FIANCEE. SHE WATCHED THEM FOR A MOMENT. SHE'D SEEN HIM RUTHLESS, LITERALLY COVERED HEAD-TO-TOE IN BLOOD, AND SHE NEVER IMAGINED HIM AS A MAN CAPABLE OF LOVING ANYONE. BUT HE SEEMED HONESTLY IN LOVE WITH THE BLOND AT HIS SIDE. PUSHING ASIDE HER CONFLICTING EMOTIONS OVER CONNOR SELWYN, SHE LOOKED OVER THE REST OF THE CROWD UNTIL SHE SAW A FACE SHE RECOGNIZED. ROWEN BRODERICK. HE WAS HER TARGET TONIGHT. AS NYX, HER ALTER EGO, SHE HAD MARKED HIM AS THE FIRST TO GO. AS ENTRENCHED AS SHE'D BECOME IN THE LAW - AS A HOBBY AND A JOB - SHE KNEW HE WAS THE ONE WHO'D MURDERED THE GIRL AT THE MASQUERADE BALL JUST A WEEK BEFORE SHE'D ARRIVED BACK IN TOWN. SHE'D SEEN THE NEWSPAPER ARTICLES ABOUT THE CARNAGE, HEARD ABOUT THE RAPE AND THE ATTEMPTED MURDER ON A SECOND VICTIM. SHE KNEW NONE OF THE NAMES, BUT HIS NAME HAD BECOME FIRST ON HER LIST. THERE WAS NO PLACE FOR NEEDLESS KILLING IN BOSTON. THIS ALL HAD TO STOP SOMEWHERE. DUCKING OUT OF THE LIGHT, SHE SLIPPED INTO A SUITE OFF OF THE HALLWAY AND CHANGED OUT OF HER DRESS INTO A BLACK FITTED JUMPSUIT THAT WOULDN'T HINDER HER MOVEMENT AT ALL. THE NECESSARY MASK, TO HIDE HER TRUE IDENTITY, SLIPPED ON OVER HER FACE AND BENEATH HER HAIR. STOWING HER DRESSY CLOTHES, SHE SLIPPED SOUNDLESSLY THROUGH THE EXIT, HER HAZEL EYES HONING IN ON HER TARGET AS HE MOVED INTO THE HALLWAY WHERE SHE AWAITED HIM. THE HALLWAY WAS DESERTED, AND SHE COULD TELL BY THE WAY HE MOVED THAT HE'D ALREADY DONE SOMETHING ATROCIOUS THIS NIGHT. THE KNIFE IN HIS HAND WAS AN OBVIOUS CLUE, BUT BY THE SILENCE OF THE PARTY, SHE GUESSED NO ONE HAD DISCOVERED HIS INDISCRETION YET. SHIMMYING UP THE WALL, SHE HELD HER BODY AGAINST THE CEILING BY BRACING HER FEET AND ARMS UNTIL ROWEN PASSED BENEATH HER. DROPPING WITH A SOFT PLOP ON HER FEET, SHE GLARED AT HIM AS HE TURNED TO REALIZE SHE WAS BEHIND HIM. "WHAT WAS IT THIS TIME? ANOTHER RAPE? DID YOU KILL SOMEONE?" SHE ASKED, HER VOICE DEEPER THAN USUAL IN A NATURAL DEFENSE MECHANISM SO NO ONE WOULD GUESS WHO SHE WAS. HER HAIR WAS NEATLY TUCKED AWAY SO THE BROWN WAS HIDDEN, AND THE ONLY DEFINING FEATURE OF HER FACE WAS HER EYES AS SHE GLARED HOTLY AT THE SERIAL KILLER BEFORE HER. TOO LAZY TO COUNT OH NO... OUTFIT ---------------- CREDIT

[rowen]

^{STEALING IS LAME! MADE BY STEPH<3}

With each day the slowly trudged by from the day he killed the masquerade doll, he was haunted by knowing that his damsel doll was still alive and well. He waited for her to be alone in the company of her own home, but she never was alone. She was never alone, period, there was always someone there. He loathed the elite - they had enough money to blow on armed bodyguards after some poor bitch gets the snot beat from her nose and stabbed to bleed out. Apparently for some reason that he'll never fully grasp, people cared about this doll. She wasn't as done up as other women, but her features were just like a doll and she was so timid, shy, mousy like a woman with her features should be. He didn't know if he loved her or not, but she was his object of obsession currently. Between the masquerade ball kill and now, he killed two more women in his time out of the spotlight. One he grew so obsessive over that he didn't want her to share her with the world. When she wouldn't stay at home and be what he wanted her to be, he killed her. He kept her with him, always, a lock of her knotted in the center, He kept it in the breast pocked of his button down shirt. He was obsessed with Darla and he killed her sister out of entire repulsion for what she was. He didn't regret nor feel remorseful because he knew Darla was always with him now, they would never have to be separated.

If he could find Charlotte alone, she would join him forever as well. Their exchange was pure luck, but he was obsessed with the idea of her. She was worth so much, she had such a nice price tag on her wrist that he couldn't just pass up the idea of killing her. He watched her in her little black dress, hand gripping a glass of rum and coke tightly. She was nervous and anxious, but she looked so radiant. This entire boat was hers and he knew she was here to watch it operate smoothly. Her eyes twinkled in a smile every time someone complimented the boat. Rowen scoffed at her foolish pride every time she mingled with business partners. She was so naive, these people would eat her if she didn't grow a backbone. Luckily for her, he was going to wrench her right out of the limelight so she wouldn't be such a try hard. She could become one with him and darla and alexandria and ana. She belonged to rest forever with him now that he found her. Steve liked the way her blood felt on his surface and they would do anything to put her back there.

When she finally broke from the pack of people, he downed his bourbon quickly in childish excitement and pure glee. Finally he could get to her, hurt her in a way she deserved to be hurt. Make her one with him. He was foolish about how closely he followed, but she never turned to greet him. He was positive she knew he was behind her and he wanted nothing more for than to kill her right here in front of everyone, but she kept walking. Someone shoved him, he snarled as it seemed to be a crowd moving to another room. He lost her, he couldn't find her, but he knew she was down the hall. Waiting for the herd to pass and be long gone, he stalked down the hall way.

He swore he heard her speaking to a man - they must of fornicated while the herd was moving. He never knew her to be so daring, he chuckled out how much a whore she really was beneath the mousy act and unflattering clothes. He stood outside the door, listening to the bed jump and bodies smack. None of it was really a stimulant for arousal for him, he just wanted the woman on the other side. he heard them finish and talk, his ears strained to hear her voice. He started to worry it wasn't her, suddenly. The man came out of the room first and Rowen attacked him without much thought. When he tried for her, she was gone, there was no woman at all. He was sure that this man surely wasn't by himself, but as he tore the room apart, he couldn't find her.

Happy by at least one person on their way to death after attacking them, he stalked down the hallway towards the herd of people. Somewhere she was here, she was the damn hostess with the most-est and he was going to get her. On his way to find her he was distracted and caught. Turning around to face the voice talking to him, he smiled delightfully at her. "Stay out of the way, wannabe, and you won't have to die today. You think you know me? You don't know a fucking thing. I can kills you just as fast as the next fucking whore. Go back and do what you're supposed to. Like sucking cock - your lips look mighty suited for that job instead of the hero."

[/div]

^{STEALING IS LAME! MADE BY STEPH<3}

[PHILLIPA JEAN REGAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #fff; width: 505px; border-top: 10px #95D9DE solid, bTable] dying on A TRAIL OF TEARS PHILLIPA HATED CRIMINALS. SHE HATED CRIME. SHE HATED KILLING. SHE HATED VIOLENCE. THAT WAS WHAT MADE HER PROMISE TO HER FATHER BOTH DIFFICULT AND EASY. HER ABHORRENCE OF EVERYTHING EVIL MADE IT SIMPLE FOR HER TO WANT TO RID BOSTON OF EVERY PERSON WHO COULD HURT IT. HER HATRED OF VIOLENCE MADE IT ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO DO SO. SHE DIDN'T WANT TO KILL ANYONE. THAT WOULD MAKE HER JUST AS BAD AS THE CRIMINALS SHE TARGETED, WOULDN'T IT? SHE DIDN'T WANT TO BE A MONSTER. SHE WANTED TO BE A HERO, BUT WHERE WAS THAT LINE AND HOW CLOSE WAS SHE TO CROSSING IT? SHE'D WATCHED SUPER HERO MOVIES THROUGHOUT HER CHILDHOOD. SHE'D SEEN BATMAN AND SUPERMAN AND IRON MAN AND THE REST OF THEM. PART OF HER HAD NEVER AGREED WITH BATMAN'S STYLE. HE ALWAYS TWISTED A SITUATION WHERE THE BAD GUY WAS THROWN IN JAIL, BUT ULTIMATELY, WHAT DID THAT DO? THEY ALWAYS ESCAPED; HE WOULD HAVE TO FIGHT THEM AGAIN. GRANTED, THIS WAS ALL A COMIC BOOK SERIES, A TELEVISION SERIES, A MOVIE SERIES, AND TO MAKE MONEY YOU HAVE TO HAVE A GOOD STORY. BUT THE CONCEPT WAS SIMPLE TO HER. IF YOU DON'T DO SOMETHING PERMANENT TO STOP A CRIMINAL, THEY KEEP COMING. PHILLIPA HAD NEVER KILLED ANYONE. SHE'D SEEN IT HAPPEN WHEN SHE WAS A SLAVE OF THE RUSSIANS. SHE'D SEEN PLENTY OF KILLING AS NATALIA'S PERSONAL SERVANT GIRL. SHE'D BECOME DESENSITIZED TO IT, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN SHE WOULD BE CAPABLE OF MURDER. SOMETHING TOLD HER THAT WASN'T WHAT HER FATHER INTENDED WHEN HE MADE HER VOW TO PROTECT BOSTON, BUT ANOTHER PART OF HER KNEW THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT HE EXPECTED. LIVE UP TO HIS EXPECTATIONS OR HIS WISHES? IT WAS SUCH A DELICATE BALANCE, AND IT CONFUSED HER. SHE NEEDED TO GET HER MIND IN ORDER IF SHE WAS EVER GOING TO TAKE DOWN THE CRIME IN THIS CITY. SHE HEARD THE SCUFFLING THAT SIGNIFIED WHERE ROWEN WAS BEFORE SHE EVER ACTUALLY SAW HIM. HIDING IN A DOORWAY AS A WOMAN A BIT TALLER THAN HER SKITTERED PAST AND DISAPPEARED INTO THE CROWD, SHE WAITED PATIENTLY UNTIL SHE HEARD HIM COMING AND SLID HERSELF UP TO THE CEILING. HER BODY STRENGTH WAS REMARKABLE, THANKFULLY, BUT HER ARMS BEGAN TO SHAKE AS HE MOVED BENEATH HER UNTIL SHE WAS FORCED TO DROP DOWN BEHIND HIM. HIS WORDS ENRAGED HER, AND SHE KNEW SHE HAD TO KEEP HER ANGER IN CHECK, BUT IT WAS DIFFICULT. SHE'D LITERALLY SPENT YEARS BEING RIDICULED BY THE RUSSIANS WHO OWNED HER, AND HIS RUDE WORDS HIT HER ON A RAW NERVE. THAT ANGER FUELED HER CONFIDENCE, AND HER FISTS BALLED UP AT HER SIDES, MAKING THE LEATHER GLOVES ON HER HANDS CREAK FROM THE STRAIN OF THE FABRIC. "I'M NOT A HERO," SHE GROWLED, HER TONE LOW AND DANGEROUS AS SHE GLARED AT HIM. "I'M HERE FOR JUSTICE. HEROES GET GLORY, AND I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT." with a lightning quick movement, she kicked out at him, hoping to catch him on the side of his head. unfortunately, this also opened her up for him to grab her leg if his reflexes were quick enough, but she hoped they weren't. baring her teeth, she twisted her upper body and threw a punch at his chiseled jaw, the black spandex of her outfit molding to her frame so she had full movement of her body as if she wore nothing at all. twisting away from him, she fell to her hands on the floor, swinging a foot around in a half-circle, hoping to throw him off balance and perhaps even take him to the floor. TOO LAZY TO COUNT OH NO... OUTFIT ---------------- CREDIT

[rowen]

^{STEALING IS LAME! MADE BY STEPH<3}

He was not a man who was very tolerant or patient when it came to people who liked to meddle or people who liked to save the day. Nothing sickened him more than a hero complex and he believed this woman to fully have one as she intercepted him from following and hunting his prey. She wasn't any bit of a woman that he would target, but if she annoyed him enough than her life was his. He would teach her a lesson she would never forget as she was itching for a fight that he was willing to give. Rowen wasn't a weak man and he didn't rely on his knife to save him. His knife was his tool, how he left his mark, but he was much more skilled in combat than anyone would think a man that wielded a knife would be. Snarling, at her words, he knew she was nothing but a liar from the way she carried herself. She did want all the glory, attention, and fame that came from being a hero. She was something of a hypocrite herself and maybe, he mused, she was a criminal behind the spandex as well.

Rowen wasn't raised in a fashion that would have made him a caring and gentle person. He was raised by distant parents and that made a distant child. He hated how his mother was so obsessed over making dressed for the perfect doll, to make her shine in an ugly use of fabrics. If anything, Rowen wanted to destroy his own parent's wealth in the only way that he knew how. He would take away the clientele slowly, and with precision. This woman was getting in his way from a potential client for his mother. Charlotte Murphy was the perfect doll and his newest obsession. He would take her and make her his before he killed her. A total domination over another human being. His eyes were dangerous and wild as he watched her, this woman was nothing but a joke to him. Yet she as dressed so poorly and he knew what color would suit her entirely better than what she wore. If he could only paint her in red would everything work out for the better.

Her leg swung out at him, but he was able to catch it in time. Her hand came around to punch him, and while he avoided direct contact, the force of the slight hit was enough to make him stumble backwards. She landed against the ground and her leg came out in a half circle to catch him off balance, but he grabbed the leg and pulled her. Using all his brute strength he threw her and slammed her into the wall that was in close proximity as the hallway wasn't as wide as it appeared. Yet this woman didn't want to give up, and he was genuinely surprised, but he was ultimately tired. Throwing her against the wall would have knocked her out if he was a supernatural monster, but he wasn't. He was just a monster going in for the kill and all he had to rely on was foresight, patience, and quick actions. Unsheathing his knife, they became a tango and he lashed out with his knife wherever he could. His goal wasn't to dismember, but he felt the knife cut her skin in ways that weren't shallow but wasn't life-threatening.

Trying to jab the knife against the soft tissue of her abdomen or even against her heart, he wasn't quite quick enough and it was frustrating. Tossing the knife from one hand to the other, he used his strength to throw a punch to connect straight between her eyes, the easiest target he could focus on. If she was going to win here, he wouldn't go down without a fight. If anyone came down this hallway, she would be risking their lives as well. No one was safe against him, he killed his own girlfriend in cold blood and an absolute stranger's death wouldn't cause him much remorse at all. Snarling, they circled in a stand off. He didn't like this woman, why she was so hell bent on ruining his night and his glorious purpose.

"Boo you whore. Go home."

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^{STEALING IS LAME! MADE BY STEPH<3}