I have had this idea for some time. Even started it a couple times. It is always a fun and exciting rp to me.
This is a good picture I found. She is young, but I think old enough to have a law degree.
Here is the opener:
Tom Bailey was a sleazebag. He made no effort to hide his guilt to Tarin Harding, relying on client privilege to keep her quiet. “Hey, Babe. You get me off and I will make sure you get a good bonus. I can get season tickets for the Rams. You know what that is worth? Come on now, I know you can do it.”
She glared at him, not giving him the least bit of sympathy. “You are going to walk, Tom. But I have no interest in football tickets. It’s the law, I am sworn to do my duty as a public defender.”
“You can come and see me anytime, Cutie. I can show you a good time. You know where I live.” he oogled her slender figure.
“I know you better than that, Tom. You like little girls...now get out of my sight. I will see you in court.” she left the jail and walked to the courthouse. She hated this. Letting a monster like this walk was not why she had spent four years at Berkely law school and the last five years as a public defender. She wanted to defend innocent people who had no way to defend themselves!
It was all over by noon. Case dismissed for lack of evidence. Yet another botched bit of lab work. The State lab was overwhelmed with work. Mistakes happen, they were only human. She was frustrated and angry. That night she sat in her house and fumed. She needed to do something.
She took out her case files and studied her notes. She did not want to see Tom harm another little girl. He was cagey, ran off at the slightest hint of witnesses.
She got up early on the next day, her dawn exercises done and an idea hit her. He was too free with his mouth. He had given her a hint of where he liked to prowl. The Hispanic neighborhood was full of cute little girls as well as gangs and drug dealers. Some of the buildings were close to being condemned. A perfect place for a sleaze like Tom to prowl.
Tarin was familiar with the neighborhood too. She had clients here, and a few friends. Nothing that anyone in the Justice System might suspect. She was in running clothes, hoodie with her hair totally tucked in and not visible, and running shoes. Huge dark sunglasses. A fanny pack on her waist to keep her hands free. Inside were several plastic grocery bags, a surgical scalpel, a pair of surgical gloves, and a covered filled syringe.
The drug was one easily bought in a farm store for use on animals, a tranquilizer used to make dealing with cattle or horses that were too injured or berzerk to handle safely. She had used it before, on her horse Jasper, who had a bad habit of biting and kicking the farrier. The vet had given her the drug and instructed her on its use. Trusting her to use it appropriately. The horse was sold long ago and she had no use for the tranquilizer now, but it might work very well. She would have to destroy them completely when she was done.
She drove around the neighborhood for a good hour. The wisp of smoke from the restaurant caught her attention. Soon the sound of sirens reached her and she went around the block. A condemned building was down the street from the now flaming restaurant. A crowd started gathering.
She was taking a huge chance. All she needed was an opportunity to catch Tom in the act. The condemned building would be perfect. Signs all over it to discourage homeless. The building was slated to be blown up and the debris hauled away to the landfill twenty miles upstate. No doubt a place that Tom thought would make a good way to dispose of a young victim. Would she be in luck today or was it a false hope?
She found her mouth dry and her heart pounding when she spotted Tom as he disappeared into the condemned apartment building. He had a dark haired girl by the hand and was leading her as if he was her father. The girl appeared in a daze, probably drugged. No one paid attention to him as the fire in the restaurant two blocks down had the whole neighborhood out to stare. Sirens and fire trucks were screaming up to the restaurant. Tom figured one child sneaking off would not be noticed.
Tarin parked in a clinic parking lot, got out and ran to the building. Smoke was billowing in the air and people were all focused on the fire. Pulling on the gloves as she went. She raced up the stairs quietly. Listening to the sounds in the old building. She heard it then, a girl crying and Tom’s voice telling her to shut up. Tarin did not have time to do anything but creep up to the door and peer in. He had his back to the door, his pants down and had the girl tied up to a broken bed frame. She was blindfolded and gagged.
Tarin was not going to let him hurt this child. Racing in she jabbed the syringe into his bare ass. It was instantly into his system. In the few seconds it took for the drug to work, he knew who she was. “You…” He staggered to the door and fell. His pants still around his ankles.
The girl was crying and Tarin wanted to reassure her, but she remained silent. Time was ticking by. With her surgical gloves on she rolled Tom over, This was not something one did lightly. She already knew the drug had probably killed Tom, but she wanted to make sure. That, and if he was found in this position with the girl, it would be a sort of poetic justice. Tarin could not speak to the girl, as much as she wanted to. She wanted no witnesses, and the girl was blindfolded.
Grasping his genitals in her left hand, she sawed at the soft tissue, blood leaking onto the floor. With a sadistic sense of pleasure, she stuffed them into his mouth. If blood loss did not kill him, he would suffocate. She made sure by pulling a plastic bag over his head, tying it with a string. She waited until she could not feel a pulse. Tarin was careful, checking for blood splatters on her clothes. She had used his shirt to block the spray of blood. Wiping her gloved hands on his shirt. Tarin was familiar with crime scenes and what would incriminate her. She had no intention of leaving anything behind, not even a stray hair from her head. Careful to not step in the spreading pool of blood, she left the room, glancing at the girl to make sure she was not hurt. The girl was quietly sobbing. She had no idea what was happening. Her hands were tied and she could not see anything at all.
Tarin stuffed the gloves in the plastic bag she had in her backpack along with the empty syringe and the knife. She wiped her hands with a wetnap and that went in there too. She crept down the stairs. Pulling her hood up and wearing her large dark glasses she checked for people before stepping out to jog leisurely to her car. It was parked in a clinic parking lot, two blocks away. It was too close to drop the bag here, in spite of the temptation of the dumpster.
She drove to the bottom of the hill and found a very full dumpster with a lot of similar bags in it. A full five miles from her crime. The garbage truck was already moving down the street and would pick this load up soon, the dumpster was nearly overflowing with enough trash that her little bag would not be found.
Finally she called 911 from a pay phone, whispering hoarsely to disguise her voice. She gave the dispatcher an address and a simple need for police and paramedics. The girl would be found along with the body of her potential killer. At least this girl was still alive. Carefully she wiped the pay phone off with a wet nap, removing any fingerprints.
She went home and had just enough time to shower and dress for work. The running clothes and shoes went into the washer to remove all evidence of her crime. By the time she made it to the office she was calm and collected. She had rid the world of one more scumbag.
Tarin was at her desk at her usual time. The buzz around the office began in the background. The news was full of the story. She got up from her desk and looked out into the hallway. Going to the break room to get a cup of coffee she stopped there and looked at the TV. The cameras were on the scene, and she knew from the SUV parked outside the old building that the LAPD was on the job.
Joe Stamson came into the break room and remarked, “Hey, Tarin, is that another one of yours?” he was joking and she turned to frown at him. There were already jokes about Tarin and her jinx. She laughed them off as the jokes would only get worse if she looked upset.
“It is? Well I’ll be damned!” she gave a good performance of total shock. Then she giggled and told Joe, “Don’t jinx me!! Next thing we know LAPD will be questioning me! Can I get a good attorney here?” she pretended to be a scared lady looking for a Public Defender.
Joe cracked up laughing, “You? Come on! The Office Mouse would never kill a guy!!” he continued laughing as he spread the story around the office. Soon Tarin was back at her desk getting occasional jibes about her secret identity as the Scumbag Killer or some other silly name. It was perfect, even if LAPD did show up to question her it would be laughed out of hand. She could even see them all lining up to offer their services as a defense attorney.
She had plenty to do to keep busy, more court appearances. Lucky for her none of the cases were of the kind to get away. Evidence was clear and witnesses were solid. The best she could do would be a plea bargain for a lesser sentence. As good as she was at her job, sometimes the system worked. The few times she might need to do something were not that often. At least she hoped they would not be. She opened her purse and pulled out a small pill bottle. She had not taken any of these in a long time. The prescription had her name on it, the doctor who prescribed them had given her the longest length of time to renew. Valium, the relaxer. The mind seducer, making you think everything is alright, no matter what happens.
Did she really need it? She put the bottle back, maybe not yet.
Your role if you accept it, can be anything law related, City Police, FBI, or even a Private Detective. I would not mind another lawyer who is suspicous of her. The cat and mouse game can start with YC being told of the crime. He may or may not know the PD who is connected to the cases, but it is fine either way.
I am looking for an imaginative and creative writer, someone who can keep up with my voracious posting speed...ok maybe I can wait a week...but daily posts will keep the intensity up, and keep my Muse happy.
If you like to do more than one character for a long term rp I would be delighted to match you in number of characters. Playing a scum bag who gets killed or a relative of one who was killed by the Vigilante would be good. I like lots of plot twists and excitement.
OOC communication is paramount. Please have decent grammar skills and be willing to use spellcheck. I am easily confused by run-on sentences that go in circles. If English is your second language I will make allowances, but I will gently correct you if you don't mind.PM me with your character idea.
He can either be sympathetic to her vigillante justice or vow to bring her in. We can decide that as we go even, as I like to ad lib a story with no clear ending in mind.