Post by Josephine Moreau on Jun 28, 2009 21:12:27 GMT -6
((Hey guys, this is Finance Your Bones, a.k.a. Weegee. I thought an introductory post for Josephine would be good, since she won't be around forever. I really like this character, and I hope you do too! I'd love for your characters to get to know her. Go ahead and interrupt her quiet time! ;D ))
There were far too many graveyards in this city, far, far too many. Every year a new one cropped up, either on the outskirts, or beneath the bridge at the very edge of the city, and every time the area filled up with that same stench. By now, Josephine had gotten used to it, or at least she thought she had. That second epidemic had hit without any warning; people began dropping likes flies, and the autopsies revealed that their bodies were decomposing from the inside out. That contaminated Zydrate was so corrosive that it killed them almost instantly, but they were able to feel that high for a short while. They were able to leave the earth and float in the storm clouds that always blanketed the sky, but when they returned, all that was left was suffering. She had seen some die while walking through an alley way a few years back: they were all huddled together, moaning, grabbing each other, scratching at disgusting sores on their faces and limbs. They already had that ghastly gray color that usually dead skin has, and they groaned with a strange efficacy that made her, even her of all people, shudder just a tad. Their cries were all in unison, like they all knew they were going to die. It was so strange, but so fascinating as well. Even old enemies conspired together, sometimes ending their grudge matches by ending each other’s agony with a gun shot to the head.
There had been so many suicides after the rumors ran abundant. GeneCo nearly collapsed due to all the “bad PR,” as Eleonora so bluntly put it, and Burliconium only did so much for hardcore Z addicts. Some heard about her rehab facility, and ended up throwing themselves into the river. They were still cleaning out parts of the sewage areas and abandoned buildings for the bodies of suicides, and murders too. There were cases of parents going mad and attacking Graverobbers; they blamed them for their children’s deaths. Countless GeneCops were dragged away by mobs and seemingly eaten alive. Graverobbers preferred death to continuing their professions, so suicide groups cropped up. One particular homicide case had stuck with her: a Graverobber was extracting Z from a dead man. His young children, the oldest of them 12 at the most, beat the Graverobber to death with bats, bricks, and whatever else they could get their hands on. They were acquitted, but put into the rehab facility, which they probably never left. While the first epidemic had a silver lining, with the creation of GeneCo. and the advances in medical science, the second destroyed a little part of every remaining human being. The battered psyche of the human race reared its ugly head and roared.
Because of the mass number of deaths, tombstones were only given for those who paid; the unknown bodies were thrown away, down into the many tunnels in the desolate parts of town. Josephine was standing in one now, searching for what, she was not sure. Graverobbers barely crawled around these parts anymore, especially with Eleonora’s installation of cameras basically everywhere. She actually couldn’t think of a place that didn’t have cameras. Constantly being watched bugged her, but Josephine knew full well that history was doomed to repeat itself. She was one of the few people who actually studied the past; it intrigued, no, fascinated her. She loved every aspect of it, even its various horrors. Back then the sun used to shine upon war; now, it was too bleak, too dark, too boring. Even blood looked to be of a duller red.
She sat down on one of the tombstones, balancing by placing her hands upon it. It was cold and hard against her soft, moisturized hands. Unlike some other Repos, Josephine actually cared about her appearance. She did not want to go out in public and look frightening; that was not the point. In the early 2030s, the Repos fit right into normal society. They were only known as Repos to Rotti Largo. Now, they were easy to spot. She could pick out almost all of her colleagues in public, whether they be walking home or stalking a target. She could even tell their specific motions and thus what their goal was. Still, she had to remind herself that Eleonora had appointed her as Head Repo for more than a few reasons, and that was one of them: she was very keen, almost too a fault. It had even bothered El a little bit, hence why she wanted to keep Josephine close. Remembering the Largo woman’s expression when she had told her of her appointment made Josephine smile a little.
“You’re cold as stone. I expect to see you in Hell,” Eleonora had said. Josephine nearly chuckled at the thought.
There were far too many graveyards in this city, far, far too many. Every year a new one cropped up, either on the outskirts, or beneath the bridge at the very edge of the city, and every time the area filled up with that same stench. By now, Josephine had gotten used to it, or at least she thought she had. That second epidemic had hit without any warning; people began dropping likes flies, and the autopsies revealed that their bodies were decomposing from the inside out. That contaminated Zydrate was so corrosive that it killed them almost instantly, but they were able to feel that high for a short while. They were able to leave the earth and float in the storm clouds that always blanketed the sky, but when they returned, all that was left was suffering. She had seen some die while walking through an alley way a few years back: they were all huddled together, moaning, grabbing each other, scratching at disgusting sores on their faces and limbs. They already had that ghastly gray color that usually dead skin has, and they groaned with a strange efficacy that made her, even her of all people, shudder just a tad. Their cries were all in unison, like they all knew they were going to die. It was so strange, but so fascinating as well. Even old enemies conspired together, sometimes ending their grudge matches by ending each other’s agony with a gun shot to the head.
There had been so many suicides after the rumors ran abundant. GeneCo nearly collapsed due to all the “bad PR,” as Eleonora so bluntly put it, and Burliconium only did so much for hardcore Z addicts. Some heard about her rehab facility, and ended up throwing themselves into the river. They were still cleaning out parts of the sewage areas and abandoned buildings for the bodies of suicides, and murders too. There were cases of parents going mad and attacking Graverobbers; they blamed them for their children’s deaths. Countless GeneCops were dragged away by mobs and seemingly eaten alive. Graverobbers preferred death to continuing their professions, so suicide groups cropped up. One particular homicide case had stuck with her: a Graverobber was extracting Z from a dead man. His young children, the oldest of them 12 at the most, beat the Graverobber to death with bats, bricks, and whatever else they could get their hands on. They were acquitted, but put into the rehab facility, which they probably never left. While the first epidemic had a silver lining, with the creation of GeneCo. and the advances in medical science, the second destroyed a little part of every remaining human being. The battered psyche of the human race reared its ugly head and roared.
Because of the mass number of deaths, tombstones were only given for those who paid; the unknown bodies were thrown away, down into the many tunnels in the desolate parts of town. Josephine was standing in one now, searching for what, she was not sure. Graverobbers barely crawled around these parts anymore, especially with Eleonora’s installation of cameras basically everywhere. She actually couldn’t think of a place that didn’t have cameras. Constantly being watched bugged her, but Josephine knew full well that history was doomed to repeat itself. She was one of the few people who actually studied the past; it intrigued, no, fascinated her. She loved every aspect of it, even its various horrors. Back then the sun used to shine upon war; now, it was too bleak, too dark, too boring. Even blood looked to be of a duller red.
She sat down on one of the tombstones, balancing by placing her hands upon it. It was cold and hard against her soft, moisturized hands. Unlike some other Repos, Josephine actually cared about her appearance. She did not want to go out in public and look frightening; that was not the point. In the early 2030s, the Repos fit right into normal society. They were only known as Repos to Rotti Largo. Now, they were easy to spot. She could pick out almost all of her colleagues in public, whether they be walking home or stalking a target. She could even tell their specific motions and thus what their goal was. Still, she had to remind herself that Eleonora had appointed her as Head Repo for more than a few reasons, and that was one of them: she was very keen, almost too a fault. It had even bothered El a little bit, hence why she wanted to keep Josephine close. Remembering the Largo woman’s expression when she had told her of her appointment made Josephine smile a little.
“You’re cold as stone. I expect to see you in Hell,” Eleonora had said. Josephine nearly chuckled at the thought.