Thread: To Catch A Murderer (Athene & Razgriz)

... What the ... ?? As her small apartment came into view, so did something else. Running forward as quickly as possible while wearing heels and also ensuring she didn't trip like an idiot, she soon knelt down in front of her doorstep and stared at the bouquet of flowers. Not just any flowers though white orchids with some pink roses added in, even. Oh my god ... she whispered, blushing slightly. Even when her head lowered and saw the name Rick written in the green ink, she wasn't nearly as annoyed as Nancy perhaps would have been. Or should, rather. She was , however, curious. Had he planned this out? Had he hired someone to get over to her place before she arrived? If so, he did one hell of an amazing job ... she mused, slowly beginning to stand up with the bouquet held in her hands. He still isn't getting a date, she muttered, lowering her empty left hand to grab for the keys to her apartment, which were always hidden in the same spot. Nancy's mailbox. It's not ---ahhhh! The bouquet left Nancy's hand as she felt an arm wrap firmly around her. Survival instincts were the first things to kick in as Nancy squirmed and struggled, opening her mouth to scream and cry out for help. Unfortunately, the opening had been done at the best time for her assailant, and most certainly worst for Nancy. Because she got a very copious amount of chloroform more than she would have wanted to begin with. As quickly as she started fighting, the poor woman soon passed out, groaning as she slumped against whom she assumed to be Rick's chest. .... Damint, Rick, she muttered, groaning as she began coming to. That wasn't fucking funny. And now, you're going way too -- As the lighting adjusted, the first thing Nancy's eyes found were Rick in perhaps the most ironic position possible. Bound. Hogtied. If she didn't know much better, this would probably be how things would look if she were in charge. Admittedly, the thought was slightly amusing. And it probably would have been more so, if the make shift spikes weren't included underneath him. W-Wait. So .... if you're like that then ... someone else ... ?? Good evening, Ms. Miller. The new and very foreign voice made poor Nancy jump slightly, looking quickly from side to side. W-Who are you? Why do you know my name? Did Rick tell you or ... ?? Well, our work isn't exactly PG-rated ... Nancy inwardly quipped, initially thinking this man was saying Rick had been naughty because of the work he paid her to do. But when the new voice began to hint he'd been legitimately guilty of something much worse than taking provocative pictures of her, Nancy's eyes immediately narrowed. Rick? The fuck's he talking about? W-what ... am I missing? ... and you're going to play a game to determine whether or not he lives or dies. Wait, what?! Nancy cried out, feeling a bit of color drain from her face. H-Hold on, now! That's hardly fair! Okay, sure. Yeah. He can be a piece of shit. And I do wanna know whatever you're trying to hint at but ... no. That's not fair! I shouldn't have to risk being the cause of his demise! I don't want blood on my hands just because ... shit! Why does any of this even matter to you anyway?! Me, my life, my boss ... the fuck is it to you?! Now then...Onto the game, shall we? You like to drink, Miss Miller? Nancy pivoted around as the curtain moved away. If she'd already looked rather pale, Nancy's skin looked so white that she probably looked akin to a ghost. Or at least a porcelain doll. Not that much, no! she exclaimed, sounding very shocked at the number of glasses and even a bit insulted. I'm not a goddamn alcoholic! I know when to stop and all of that! This ... is way too much! Even with the stronger drinks like whiskey or sake, Nancy could avoid getting buzzed for quite some time. But .... this was 66 goddamn shot glasses. There's no way I can do this ... she fearfully thought, her body beginning to tremble violently. God, please don't make me do this. Please. There's no way! No one could finish that many ... not without ending up in the ER for some sorta complication. Please ... And yet ... as much as her boss annoyed her, Nancy wouldn't have wanted him to die. Definitely not in this sort of gruesome manner. Fuck and no. But ... did she really have to do this? Play this man's fucked up game? If she wanted to walk out, let alone do so without any 'blood on her hands', as she'd said, then yes. As Nancy shakily forced herself to her feet, she looked around again, seeking any other ways out. When none came, a scared whimper elicited as she walked beside the table. Asshole ... she thought, reaching down with a still unstable hand and gripping the first shot glass before quickly downing the contents. Setting the first of the 66 glasses down, Nancy coughed, having chugged the liquor a bit too fast, before moving down the line and trying to get through the shot glasses as fast as humanly possible. If all you really do need to do is drink these, okay. It's doable. They are just shots after all. And there's no timer. Or, if there was, the unknown man had at least been generous enough to omit that part out.