Leave a message at the tone BEEP! --- Accepting

@inncranimal

Leave a message at the tone -BEEP! @inncranimal

  The news wasn’t clear. She had been “abducted” from the scene when Richard saved her life. She had chosen to stay with him. She had mistakenly allowed herself to care for him. 

TIP: No more pain.

  When the intruder shot her, she was so afraid. And so alone. She didn’t regret. She had never been happier in her life than when she had lived with the masked murderer. Richard Grady was no monster. He was a troubled man with a tendency to show incredible gentleness. And even in those last moments, all she thought of was him. 

TIP:  Time to let go. 

  She did see him for a moment. When he entered the bathroom she was already numb. She could see emotion in his face. He was torn apart. They both were. She wanted to tell him she loved him, because GOD that was the most pure feeling she had ever felt. With a man most would put to death, she had felt a tenderness and love she never thought possible. 

TIP: Stop breathing. 

  And he left the room. Her last moments were spent praying that he would be spared. That the intruder would become one of his victims. That Richard would LIVE. She didn’t hear a gunshot. She didn’t hear it. So she convinced herself he made it. And then she was gone. 

TIP: You’ve done enough. 

  And his regrets are left in the open air. His words fell on deaf ears. They had forgotten about her. She’d be counted as a victim of his, most likely. Even if she cared about him. Even if he was the only man she truly loved. The dead tell no stories, nor truths. She could never explain how important he was. And he’d never be able to tell her if he felt the same way. He was talking to no one. He was alone. 

Send me a Ship and I’ll Break Them DOWN | @saintsrowjaguar-in-miami . 

Obviously @inncranimal can fight me on this lol

@inncranimal

    She was dancing alone. There were plenty of ways this solo performance could go wrong and maybe she was hoping it would. Caution was instinct to her. She only took a few days to check out the prison before she attacked. She wasn’t certain how much resistance she would face. During those days, she worked on skills. Like how to pick locks. Almost a week of looking into the prison and picking locks. She knew what kind of locks the prison had. She walked the halls daily, visiting random inmates. Lying about why she was there, but never visiting her target. She didn’t want him to have extra protection. It was night now and she was stalking the halls. Blood already stuck to her clothes and the zebra mask that had become a part of her. An extension of her. The real her. She had killed three men already and she had entered the prison less than ten minutes ago. Picked the lock on the door right beside where their deliveries come in. She took a key off a guard she killed. 

  As she walked by cells, she unlocked them. Distractions to mask where she was. She would create a riot if it meant finishing her job. She could hear quick footsteps coming toward her from behind, so she opened the recently unlocked iron door and moved inside. She didn’t close the door, not all the way. She could hear the heavy breathing of a man behind her, probably scared. There was a certain high in that. Dangerous criminals being afraid of her. As soon as she heard the footsteps, two pairs, reach the door she opened it with force. The heavy metal collided with one man hard, leaving him on the ground with blood flowing from his head. Before the other could attack, Corey swung her stolen nightstick as him. It collided with his arm and he dropped his weapon. He didn’t cry out, he only gasped. He didn’t have a chance to recoil before she swung at his head with all her strength. Blood flew into the air and a cracking sound moved like thunder. He fell to the ground, he wasn’t moving. The other was disoriented. His nose looked broken from the impact. It wasn’t hard for the woman to bring her shoe down hard on his throat until the choking stopped. 

  Every time she walked by a cell, she unlocked it. She killed every uniformed person she saw. Finally, she came upon his cell. There was a thick layer of blood coating her weapon and shoes. The white of her mask showed some as well. Her clothes were also not safe from the mess. Her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she slid the key into the lock and turned until it clicked. The alarm was ringing in the air and escape was getting less likely with each minute. She had a plan, but it may not work. 

  She pushed the door open. Her vision wasn’t perfect with the mask on, but she stared at him.His blonde hair looked a darker shade with the orange jumpsuit on. He looked tired. She wondered how hard prison had been on him. It was a fleeting thought that didn’t matter. It felt like hours she looked at him, despite it only being a few minutes. The last kindred spirit she had in the goddamn world. Or she hoped they were. 

  Her voice was a little muffled by the mask and she had to speak up. Still, she was only barely heard above the alarm. 

@inncranimal

   Funny how Miles could actually manage to be a little nervous. He reported on a war and yet the idea of meeting with a murderer still sent chills down his spine. He saw plenty of death and violence back then. But soldiers killing soldiers at least made sense. Since the dawn of civilization, men had been fighting petty wars of land or gods. It seemed almost sane, despite the way it cut deep into your soul. People killing others on the streets of American cities... It was frightening. 

  He had seen men coldly recall the details of murders. It wasn’t any that he reported on, but he watched enough documentaries. He had seen people filled with remorse or insanity. He wondered which he would see first-hand today. He had done his homework. Richard J. Grady was the killer. He probably broke a world fucking record on the amount of murderers committed by one man.Even if many of the men killed were criminal bastards that the cops couldn’t put away. Most wouldn’t be missed. Still, the brutality of the murders was horrific. He was a veteran. Same war Miles had reported on. Low-income, down on his luck. 

  He was already walking down the hall to the room where Richard was being kept. Not his cell, of course. Miles had to spend a shit load of money to get him alone. A guard was outside, but he wanted this interview to be one on one. They were gonna make a movie based on his case, and Miles thought it would be interesting to hear what really happened. Maybe he could even make some money. After being fired from the company he worked for, he had to do something. He just hoped this wasn’t a waste of time. It cost this month’s rent to get the scumbags running this prison to let him be alone with the guy. 

  Once he reached the door, he checked his camera. Ready to go. With a deep breath, he opened it. This guy apparently wasn’t very talkative, and Miles had no clue why he thought he could get anything out of him. After all, he was hardly great with people. 

  Richard was sitting at an old table that looked like it belonged out back in a dumpster. Miles glanced back at the guard in the hallway before he walked in a shut the door behind him. Across from where the other was sitting was another chair, and he took a seat in it.