Fuck off!

                     wild curls now hang soaking against her back and shoulder blades, wet ringlets splaying against her cheeks with each turn of her head. mascara is clumped against her lashes as hands smear a concoction of rain water, black goop, and hair against her cheek. knees are caked in mud, sheer stockings once something she’d have been proud of now look like a last resort when fighting crime. hands smush into the muck beneath her as eyes narrow in through the intense down pour, a single hand extending to the small animal coiled beneath the drain hood. she wasn’t a good person, no not by any means -- hell she’s one of the worst. yet, something about animals burned in her chest. nestled between her steel like ribs and burned like white hot iron -- she HAD to save this kitten. voice is a roar when water splashes upward from nearing footsteps, glare fully loaded and zeroed in on the guy standing at her side suddenly. “ way to go daffy duck, that the only way you know how to get a girl wet? or are you just as clueless as you appear? “ the words aren’t meant at all, in fact mid sentence she’s turned back to the kitten. hand extended once more in an attempt to save it, but her arms just aren’t long enough. 

               the brick beneath her fingertips relinquishes, allowing her lithe form to drop to the cement alley below. a low and cruel smirk drawing across her lips as her dark eyes appraise the people before her, small girl -- a man who has no business being around her. the usual. she draws to her full height brows arching high on her forehead before canting her head to the side, “ oh-oh-oh dont tell me, you were just walking her home right? “ she wears a snarl, a row of teeth that in the dim illumination glimmer like a sharks. muscles are loose and she can feel the static along her fingertips, as her gaze shifts to the pipe strewn across the alleyway. a low hum of approval emanates from her throat as she snatches the pipe up and turns it in her palms, brows arching as she looks to the man who surprise surprise is still dumfounded. lips purse as she cants her head once again voice bordering annoyance, “ c’mon captain cutler i aint got all night. skeeves like you are a dime a dozen and i’m itching to make a living here. “

             Kade is very skilled in parkour. Its how she escaped boarding school when she was younger, and it is how she moves around the city without really being seen. She prefers her means of transportation to be roof top if at all possible, mainly for the sense that she refuses to be trapped inside a car for too long. 

             This is also how she came about getting her house. She resides in a small townhouse that was foreclosed beneath an underpass on the slums of the city. To maintain the homes shut down appeal the front door and side greenroom door are boarded up as well as some of the windows, however on the second story porch she keeps that door free from being boarded up to enter the house. 

             The back door on the ground level is boarded up as well but, the basement doors are locked with a key she keeps on her at all times. She tends to sleep in the basement level of her home, and use the ground floor and second story as a functioning kitchen, den, and the second floor as her personal office. 

           When looking at Kades fashion sense you kind of get a sense of de ja vu. Like a 90s Taco Bell at 4 in the morning or better yet a run down 7/11 with stolen cop cars in front.

           She tends to wear very select pieces that don’t go with each other at all in reality. A pair of business slacks and her favorite classic rock band tee and combat boots with the pants leg tucked in? Leather jacket as well? You got it. Leather shorts and knee high boots with a military jacket and a “eat more beef” neon orange t shirt.

            A literal pant suit with a tube top on beneath the jacket with converse sneakers? You got it.

@fuckinjolted ; KADE DELGATO

BACKHAND TO THE SIDE OF HIS FACE ; knuckles brush melted ice cream against the black of freshly dried blood . the man winces . underneath the fluorescent light of the 7 / 11 , his complexion looks worse than it feels . painful yes , but he had been through far worse . besides , the sickly sweet chocolate covered klondike bar had effectively begun to dull the pain in his jaw – even if it was just placebo . his eyes flutter to the right of him as he pops the remainder of the bar into his mouth , crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it into the bin across from him . it misses . his gaze : impassive , as he returns to address his associate .

“     I THINK HE’LL HIT DOVER’S WAREHOUSE tomorrow night . if he so much as drops a pin , i’ll hear it .     ”     it’s a bitter aftertaste , like drunken limes , that spills from his throat and down his chin . they were so close , he was so close .

Orange fanta icee. A favorite of hers since she was young now relieves the stinging sensation in the back of her throat and soothes the split in her lip, an ice pack with flavor. Wild curls are static, frizzed and brought to life much like her fingertips are the color of soot from the flesh being singed -- she’s a fucking battery after all. The s y r u p citrus taste mingles with the blood in the back of her throat, rinsing her stained teeth free of the crimson banner. Eyes are half lidded and bored as they stare ahead of her beyond the neon glow of the red “HOTDOGS” sign behind them, attention drawn to an acute focus. She was never bitter over letting a mouse slip through her fingertips, the idea of the chase living on only fueled her even if the sweet delicacy of accomplishment was a taste sheFAVORED.