— the survivor

RP blog for Karlee Fincher from Back 4 Blood Follows from Litteris

[bee-robber]

BEE ROBBER. ask — submit

RP blog for Karlee Fincher from Back 4 Blood

at a glance this blog is: semi-selective and multiverse. Crossovers encouraged, OC and female muse-friendly ✗ Canon compliant with strong headcanon influences ✗ 18+ only ✗ Slow or sporadic activity ✗ Beloved by Giffie (she/her, 21+, PDT) ✗ EST. 11/26/23

Uses Beta Editor + XKit Rewritten

Follows from @litteris

rules — muse — verses — tags — tracker

[notsofunland-deactivated2024070]

@bee-robber

The instructions provided by Karlee's colleague had been straightforward enough, if enormously bizarre: get Fry into the "saferoom," keep an eye on the surveillance feed from inside, and wheel him out in a chair when he is no longer a "weird wolf-thing." Easy peasy, except, they emphasized, she would need to sit in that chair and keep an eye on him the entire night, and there were cameras everywhere to ensure she did. Everything else, including the prep work, Fry would take care of himself.

Sure enough, leaning heavily on his cane with one arm and holding a cat crate containing an agitated chicken under the other, her charge for tonight is waiting at the designated meeting spot (suitably out of the way, for everyone's sake), dressed in a patient robe and sweating absolute bullets. A text from his usual carer informed him that a family emergency prevented them from working tonight, so "a trusted colleague" would be attending him and receiving their bonus-slash-hush-money instead.

Damned if he isn't apprehensive about it, though; the arrangement was made last minute, so he doesn't even know what she looks like—something that is about to change, judging by the drone of the descending elevator.

[bee-robber]

It's not all that often that Karlee feels truly anxious about something— probably not often enough if you ask anyone who knows her, and certainly not often enough when the prospect of money is involved. And yet, long about her third shifting of weight and her second long-inhale-short-exhale, her focus drifts upward, and she scans the four corners of the elevator in the most nonchalant way possible (which isn't very), hoping that her fidgeting isn't being broadcasted to anyone.

It sounds like an easy, if not ludicrous, gig: throw some bigwig into a room, watch him all night, and then wheel him away and collect a check. What puts her a little on edge about everything (what would most likely put most people on edge) is the specific mention of "weird wolf-things." Of course, they can't mean that this guy actually turns into some supernatural creature, so what does it mean?

She guesses she's about to find out when she feels the gentle sway of the well-maintained elevator coming to a stop, doors opening on a woman peering up from her boots and immediately locking eyes with her awaiting ward for the night. The man looks way more uneasy than she feels (thus making her feel even more uneasy), and as she steps forward, Karlee can't help but allow her gaze to dart toward the pet kennel held under his arm for the briefest of moments.

What the hell had she agreed to?

"Mister Fry, I take it?" she asks, voice conveying nothing but cool, calm, collectedness.

[bee-robber]

( Someday soon I need to go though Karlee's rap sheet crime by crime and headcanon for each one. )

[khaosritual]

[intodivergence-deactivated20240]

The sensation he feels watching her gaze rise and fall, back and forth, from him to the card is... well, it's something. He is at once both 18, waiting patiently for a convenience store clerk to confirm that he is eligible to buy OTC medicine, and 43, watching an old acquaintance weigh the appearance of his presently middle-aged self against that of the eternally young kid from their memories. 'Well, this is new. Can't say I'm a fan of the whole tendrils and hands thing, but you do you.'

"Oh, that's... Don't worry about it. I don't really need anything." A half-truth, but he doesn't want her thinking she owes him something, because she doesn't—and even if she did, her company would be enough. "I've got a pretty sweet setup here already. It's not exactly cosy, though. Or warm. Sorry about that."

[bee-robber]

Deep down, buried under an untouchable facade that's been expertly crafted over the last twenty-something years, Karlee is still terrified by the creature in front of her. Every fiber of her being, every natural instinct, tells her to run. And yet, her ass stays firmly planted on the, admitted yes, cold concrete beneath her. Call it a sixth sense or a woman's intuition, but she's always had a nose for danger— a gut feeling when something is immediately wrong.

Apart from being a little hungry, her gut is fine right now. Granted, its failed her in the past.

Quirking an eyebrow, she exhales a quiet chuckle. "Everybody needs something, and besides, I don't like feeling like I owe anybody anything. Medical supplies are hard to come by nowadays, but if I happen to trip over any, I'll send 'em your way. Or if nothing else, maybe I could find some decent substitutes." Seemingly deciding that that's settled, she musters enough daring (or stupidity) to take her eyes away from him to look around, to inspect this "sweet setup" of his.

"How long've you been here?"

[bee-robber]

Resigning herself to needing the creature's help a couple of seconds before she even moves, Karlee leaves her leg bent and leans back, propping herself up on one hand while reaching down to gather the ID that slides to a stop beside her with the other. Before she realizes what she's doing, she glances over the top of the badge, the way one might when carding another attempting to buy alcohol, comparing the then and now.

Lowering the credentials, yet keeping ahold of it for now, she gestures toward the offending limb. "All right," she says, doing little to try and hide the lingering mistrust in her voice. "But I don't have anything on me to trade, so we're gonna have to work something else out."

@intodivergence, continued from days of olde