recon.

everything is being replied to this weekend ok

“let the girl go, take me.” that phrase was not something ashley had expected to hear, it was the only phrase that she was actually able to pick out and it sparked a feeling of hope that spread through her body quickly. maybe she would actually be able to get out of this. 

but that was just wishful thinking on her end, because the gun is gone but it’s replaced by the other men grabbing at her arms, painfully yanking her to her feet again and it feels like her heart breaks because there goes her chance of surviving this mess. ashley is crying and screaming for help as the masked men drag her off to the back exit, practically tripping over her feet as she struggles to get out of their grip. her gaze desperately lands on the male that had tried to save her, panic in her eyes as she tries calling for help again. which is the wrong thing to do, because there’s suddenly a quick and sharp slap to her jaw, immediately shutting her up and making her cry for a different reason now.

she can’t focus on much besides the sting on her face and how she can feel her lip split open, dripping little droplets of blood down her chin as the men pause by the back door, arguing over what to do now. eventually she’s dragged out of the back, where there’s surprisingly no one waiting for them. though they’re still sneaking around, and ashley is becoming numb to the terror, a gun pressed into her ribcage harshly.

Guns pulled from the equation makes the rest of the bank a little bit brave, instead of it being just David fighting, it’s all of them (for the record, David is the strongest one, does most of the work but -- yay, teamwork.) Criminal subdued, law enforcement finally storms in, two steps behind David as he sprints off towards the back exit. He can still smell the exhaust, whatever they took off in long down the road. 

It’s all white noise after that, David is a sore loser. Shrugging off offers of medical attention and using his right to not talk about what happened (even if it’s not really his right, the man has more important things to do now,) he takes off for his place. He can deal with the money another day. Not the one for pro-bono work, David can’t shake this -- no man left behind -- a woman, in this case, he could leave it to the cops, feds, whoever is in charge of kidnappings but he’s already made up his mind about this. They didn’t see her look him in the eyes and ask for refuge.

Everything he thinks he’ll need in the trunk of his car, he drives over to the headquarters. It would have been a simple phone call but David wanted to get a visual on what he was working with before he walked into a fight. “You know... this isn’t your mission, right? You survived, you didn’t blow your cover. Take this is a dub and let the cops find her,” Oz says as he types away, hacking into the back alley bank CCTV, clearing up the picture, putting the license plate into the system. “Dude --” David starts but the audio takes his attention back to the multiple monitors in front of him, a dozen screens showing her get smacked around before tossed in the trunk of the car. A masked figure turning around to shoot the camera out, ending the footage. 

her attempt at staying focused didn’t work at all, not when she hears another bang and the answering cry from the security guard. a terrified whimper spilled out past ash’s lips, her eyes briefly shutting to try and get back from the edge of giving in to her fear. the voice of the stranger beside her helps, even if he is just commenting on the situation taking place. his words don’t even have to mean anything, not really. they just serve to help her feel more calm.

but the situation clearly worsens, and ash is staring determinedly at the floor, fingers trembling at the sound of the police outside. it agitates the robbers, and it’s at the worst time that the male speaks, because she’s so anxious and nervous that his flat whisper pulls a terrified and quiet giggle from her lips. it gets the masked men’s attention, and before she knows it there’s a pair of boots in her vision. there’s a hand in her hair, yanking her up to her feet and ashley is crying now, dragged away from her belongings and her place in line, noticing through her tears that the other men are doing the same to others. ashley’s heart is pounding in her ears, vision blurry from her tears as she’s forced near the door and onto her knees, trembling as the barrel of the gun is pressed to the side of her head, shouts of the men unintelligible to her ears.

As the situation escalates, he realizes he actually has to do something. What’s the point of being the strongest guy in the room if he doesn’t put it towards something? David operates in a morally grey area, as long as they aren’t actually trying to hurt him? It shouldn’t be his concern if he’s not getting paid? How he feels about the situation shouldn’t matter yet here he is still trying to figure out how to defuse the situation. He tells himself it’s not because he actually cares about these people but that he doesn’t like having his time wasted, that stealing money in this day and age is easier and faster online and not in an actual bank.

“Hey --” three guns point to him at the sound of his voice, he raises slowly, hands up in defense, he’s got a couple inches and then some on all of them but what they lack in height they make up in with high powered machine guns. “Let the girl go, take me.” He saw a cop say that on a TV show once, David isn’t the type to typically negotiate so this is all improv for him. “C’mon...” his eyes trail to her, how terrified she looks, it steels his resolve. David doesn’t know about everyone else but he’s going to try and save her. “You can’t go out the front door of this place and expect to live. At least let me help you get out of here.” 

CRIME  BASED  SENTENCE   PROMPTS  || status: always accepting || @9sik

it was part of ashley’s weekly routine, going through the mundane task of gathering all her tips from the nail salon and heading to the bank to deposit them. not her favorite thing to do, especially on busy days like this one. the line seemed endless, she barely even noticed anyone around her, so absorbed by her phone while she waited.

but the sound of a gun shooting off accompanied with the loud yell brought her crashing back to reality, fear spiking as she let in a sharp gasp of air. everything seemed so surreal as she dropped down to the floor, pupils blown wide as her palms press into the ground, breathing heavily from her body’s natural response to the precarious situation everyone was in.

though ashley tried not to move too much, not wanting to draw attention to herself from the robbers, she does turn her head and catches the male’s gaze who was waiting in line behind her. the shrug has her brows furrowing in confusion, trembling in her spot from her confusion on how he seemed so calm even in this situation. though his calmness did help her, even if only slightly, because if he could be calm then surely ashley could too, right? and so she kept her gaze more or less focused on him, needing something, anything, to keep her from losing her cool and giving in to the fear of the moment.

Getting shot is the outcome of most of the scenarios he has cooking in his mind right now. David isn’t averse to being shot, bullets or, blood. He would prefer to be on the other side of the gun but if he gets shot? It’s not the end of the world -- hell, it’s not the end of the day either, his pain tolerance is quite high. It’s not recommended and they’ve tried to prevent it in the past but David has gone at least a day or two with a bullet lodged in him. It’s a little fascinating in a sick way, how he can feel it shift and move within him after the pain has ebbed away. David isn’t averse to being shot but, with guys like these? He wouldn’t be the only one getting shot if he tries something. They’re outnumbered, countless customers in the bank, only four robbers. But those four musketeers have high powered machine guns and David doesn’t casually travel with an AR-15 on his day off, that would be... yeah, no. 

David is still trying to access the situation, he totally didn’t factor in bank security, going through different ways he can try and defuse the situation without anyone dying, the gunfire pulls him from his thoughts and great -- he can’t roll his eyes in annoyance and seem like a psychopath or in on the job and he’s not going to go over there and see if the guard is okay, either. Because, technically he was just doing his job and once upon a time, playing the hero seemed fun to David as well but he really just wants to deposit this cash and go get something to eat, not get shot. “Cops will be here at any moment, probably.” He says as quietly as he can, eyes on the floor. “Four in here, I’m hoping number five is a Nascar driver unless they were dumb enough to all come in without someone waiting on the outside.”

                     the  motel  has  seen  better  days, but who hadn’t in this town? the locations of this town were much like it’s citizens; hollow, broken, worn sometimes beyond recognition and yet despite it — on the outside, functional. this place is just far away enough from town to make it not as noticeable. his insult rolls off her back with ease, she’d heard ruder words in crueler ways.  ❛  you’re  in  everette  —  so  it  can’t  be  that  important.  ❜  she glanced him over, outsiders always made her jumpy. in no small part due to their propensity for being the type that hunted and stalked innocent people.  ❛  why  are  you  here.  don’t  bullshit  me.  ❜

CRIME  BASED  SENTENCE   PROMPTS  || status: always accepting || @querenciant

It’s a fun way but not the smartest way.

He’s given a picture, an invite to the event and a vial.

A long time ago, he was into vibrant colors and soft material. A closet of nothing but tracksuits and sweatpants, t-shirts with pop culture references or luxury brands - he was a walking billboard. He traded that for tactical pants and the standard t-shirt given to him for PT. He’s got a good body for a suit but the only one he tolerates is his dress blues. He’s a chameleon, he wears the skin they want him to and doesn’t complain. Plus he can’t catch her attention the way he wants looking like a propaganda model for the American military system. David knows how to read a room. 

A lot of lies, cocksure smirks behind champagne flutes, piano music under the murmurs of the countries elite’s pissing contests. That’s all these events really are, show up in your nicest garb, and talk about your latest business venture, that big donation to a charity that only exists for tax purposes. David is too good looking to be a waiter at one of these so he’s posed himself as one of them, spewing off tales about falling asleep in the Blue Grotto on a two-person rowboat and waking up with a crick in his neck, nights in Tokyo that seemed to never end. David has his audience enthralled, her in particular, which helps in his favor, she’s making his job just that easier by hanging off of his every word and she doesn’t even realize it. 

The crowd naturally begins to disperse, leaving her lingering. She’s beautiful, David notices, very much aware of the subtle grab for the nape of her neck, scratching the side of her neck to show off the tan line of where a nice rock used to rest. She’s beautiful, newly divorced and posed for a hefty settlement her ex-husband does not want to pay so naturally instead of paying her to leave him alone, he uses that same money to get rid of her altogether. David could care less about the lack of logic in the situation, he just goes where he’s paid to. He sweet talks her into following him to the bar, keeping her attention on everything but his arm sliding behind them onto the bar top, vial no longer than his pinky finger being emptied into her glass. 

She thinks it’s the liquor that’s hitting her harder than usual, the wobble in her ankles, her grip on the lapels of his jacket as he all but drags them to the women’s room, forcing her to finish her drink, she begins to seize in his arms. He watches her fall, convulsing on the floor until she suddenly goes still; David crouches down, watches the light dim slowly in her eyes, leather gloved fingers push her eyelids down. She’s beautiful, David notices again. 

Confidence and exhibitionism do not go hand in hand, despite what many people would believe. He’s damn good at his job, he enjoys it. Maybe a little too much but that doesn’t mean he needs an audience critiquing his work. It throws him off of his game and he either ends up does too much or even worse: the bare minimum and gets branded boring. David would rather be called over the top than boring, anything but boring. 

He pulls his gloves off as he stands to his full height, only turning his head when he’s questioned.

Oops?

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Well…” Protocol calls for extra disposal when needed but tonight can only have one freak accident, there would need more planning in advance if he has someone as high profile as the heiress. Is that David being boring? “I thought this was the men’s room and --” he gestures at the dead body. “Yep.” 

 CRIME  BASED  SENTENCE   PROMPTS  || status: always accepting || @eterneli

“Are you really -- wait, don’t say anything.” Bad enough he’s wearing that weird ass mask (in the dark no less,) he’s going full monty with the voice changing.  David isn’t really into the caped crusader charade. He isn’t one for cloaking his appearance because he does his best work from a rooftop yards away with a McMilllan TAC-50, no use in covering his biggest money-maker up. Maybe this guy is ugly? The mask (those fuckin’ horns -- ) does him no favors. 

“Is this one of yours?” David crouches down to begin the fold the body up for disposal. “Or are you bored and I’m your unwilling victim? Also --” he stands once the body is wrapped tight in the plastic he was laying on, the rip of duct tape louder than needed as he tears a long rectangle off. “I don’t share paychecks so... if he is one of yours? Too bad, you’re gonna have to wait for the next one.”