#lomkdrop

[lastofmykindrp]

It’s a quiet Monday evening, long after last call when Kane Seifer is locking up the Dive -- It’s a typical evening, a bit slower than usual, but about as routine as one would expect. There’s a stillness about the bar, with all the drunkards gone and the cool November breeze filling the air. There’s something almost calming about it, in comparison to the chaos that reigns through the streets each day -- Often coming at the hands of the man fiddling with the keys in the front door. Ironic. The sound of an engine interrupts the uncharacteristically serene moment, a black van comes screeching around the corner, before slamming it’s brakes at the front doors of the Dive, and in front of Kane. Within a blink, the tides change: Two masked men leap out of the car, chloroforming their victim once they’ve caught him off guard, before tossing him into the back seat. No one sees it, no one hears them. They’re gone before anyone gets the chance. Their faces are covered, but one can assume just who has come to collect the debt they feel owed. 

You’d have to either be naive or live under a rock to think that the Primordial MC wouldn’t come for blood eventually. More specifically, the Thane brothers. With Old Lady’s left for dead, club members put into hospital beds, and warehouses blown to bits -- It was only a matter of time before the camel’s back broke and something like this happened. Their faces aren’t seen, but word travels in this town, leaving residents able to put two and two together, if history is any aid. The van drives and drives and drives until it reaches a gravel road and an old house*, before their unconscious victim is pulled from the backseat and brought to a grim basement, where the true horrors begin**. He’s subjected to brutal torture before finally being put out of his misery***, though there’s no neighbors around to smell the smoke or awful scent radiating from the home. Even if they had -- Most people know better than to stare when the MC is involved, you turn a blind eye or you end up in the grave next to him. 

This is the inevitable, a bloody means to an end and a message to the people --- This war is over. 

The first person to find a memento from the evening is a shop keeper from down the street, coming to open his store at sunrise, just like they do each day. His first thought is that those Trojan bastards hadn’t put away a cheap Halloween decoration, adding another thing for him to complain about in regards to the MC. Only upon further inspection, he finds a sight more gruesome that he had imagined. To insure their message is heard loud and clear -- Kane’s head is left on a stake, in the very spot he’d been taken from. There’s a tape attached to it, with something playing on loop. The shopkeeper can’t quite hear what it is until he reaches the Dive, now plagued with having to hear the sounds of a dying man’s screams on loop. 

TRIGGER WARNING: The following threads contain much violence, torture, decapitation, body horror, mild gore, kidnapping, blood, and fire/a dying in a fire. Please read at your own risk.

* -- Part I. ** -- Part II. *** -- Part III. Part IV -- Kane’s POV.

end of act ii.

[lastofmykindrp]

The older neighborhoods in Olympus are typically a quiet place. Overgrown trees, rickety porch swings, paint chipping off the walls of homes. It’s the epitome of what Olympus was meant to be -- Something beloved for decades, where the air feels fresh and the people all know one another. The house at the end of the street is no exception -- Home to a man known simply as ‘Mr. Castillo’ to his neighbors. He’s a retired member of the Primordial MC, father to current member Blake Castillo. Seeing the two next to one another, and you could spot the relations easily. Mr. Castillo walked the fine line between being both feared and respected -- After all, no one messed with the older gentleman drinking a beer on the porch, with a loaded shot gun only a few feet away. 

But as the mail in his box began to pile up, and the bike in his drive way turned yellow with pollen, it became abundantly clear to the neighbors of this old street that something was off. There was something sinister in the whistle of the leaves on the porch of Mr. Castillo’s home, something about the way his home showed no sign of movement in at least a week becoming enough to unsettle the neighbors. And his daughter, too. On the afternoon of April 29th, after there was no answer at the door of her father’s home, Blake Castillo entered the house without a second thought -- A foul stench finding her as soon as the door opened. 

The next thing that can be heard is the sound of a scream, one that doesn’t seem to end. 

It’s unclear of the details just yet, but after the police arrive and the caution tape is put up, the police report gives all the information needed. There, lying in his home for approximately seven days was Mr. Castillo, a beloved member of the community and MC, found dead. He was shot execution style, at the hands of his own shot gun, with no lack of dried blood surrounding him. The sight was horrific enough on it’s own, but one thing truly sent everyone who witnessed the scene running, their blood turning to ice -- Spelled out on the wall above his boy read one word: TROJAN. 

This war officially has a body count. 

[lastofmykindrp]

While the Olympus Community Center was filled with the sounds of shouting wives and discomfort towards the arrangements -- The tensions between both MCs seemed to halt for the evening, the two seeming to avoid the other rather than take the opportunity to cause a scene the moment the doors closed. It’s almost more unsettling than the actual war that’s exploded, the two groups finding themselves under one roof -- There has not been one fight between members. 

There’s a steady unease in the Community Center, but the people of Olympus have learned to choose their battles. The night goes, seemingly, routine. The worst of the storm seems to let up around midnight, only the sound of the rain hitting the roof can be heard through out the building. Everyone’s settled into their cots, most tossing and turning as they float through a half awake daze; Enough for no one to see a shadowy figure leave quietly, stopping by a utility closet to grab a baseball bat. Had someone noticed, it would have been cause for contention -- But with the hour and the circumstance, most were too distracted by their own panicked concerns to notice anything else. RYDER AERON, a known member of the Trojan MC, unfortunately, is one of these people. In an attempt to escape the commotion, he found solace in a back office, far away from the majority of the evacuees. Distractions find him easily, concerns of floods and a touch of insomnia keeping him occupied -- Enough to not hear the creak of the door opening, or the foot steps that follow. 

There is no thunder cracking across the sky anymore, but something similar fills the air -- The sound of a baseball bat hitting the back of a knee, the mystery assailant showing no mercy with each hit. It’s clear what this is: Retaliation. An eye for an eye, something to settle the score. The only thing that was left unaccounted for was the person evening the score not following through -- What was supposed to be a problem being ‘fixed’, just turned into a brutal beating, with the victim still kicking. Barely. The face of who caused such a scene is only known to the victim, but once the news broke, most could put two and two together. While it’s unclear who the person was, most can bet that they were a leather cut reading the words PRIMORDIAL. 

Ryder Aeron is taken to the hospital that morning, with his wounds tended to as a best their could given the resources. As he’s wheeled out of the Community Center on a stretcher, rocks settle in each witnesses stomach, with the a cruel reminder that war shows no mercy, even in the midst of a storm. 

[lastofmykindrp]

It’s not often that things come full circle in Olympus -- Most tragedies are met with rumors, and unspoken truth, rather than actual, concrete proof of a beginning and an end. It begins with Allana Clarke, a walking mystery who arrived in Olympus like a summer breeze, stealing the hearts of every man that laid eyes on her. But through them all, she takes the hand of Maddox Hart, the two engaged with a child on the way, finding love despite the war that brews in the small, sleepy town. The two exist in a state of ‘bliss’ until a hard left turn finds them and she ends up in the hospital, bruised and beaten and now longer designing a baby nursery. 

Her attack is two things: It’s a fair assumption that this was no isolated attack, that she wasn’t someone in the wrong time at the wrong place. This was blatant, leaving the people of Olympus looking over the shoulder, knowing this ‘cold’ war has heated up, taking anyone with a tie to the MCs with it. The second, is that two months after, once the physical wounds have healed and the stages of grief are being met -- A file arrives on Sheriff Henry Fisher’s desk, one that incriminates Richard Gardner, long time member of Primordial MC before he left to join the Trojans, pinning the crime on him. The emotion tied behind it, and the desire to end senseless violence caused by the MCs in town are what put Richard in handcuffs in record time. The people of Olympus can sleep a bit easier at night knowing that at least one of the people responsible for tearing this town apart has been brought to justice, even if the details don’t quite add up. What’s even more suspicious is Allana’s disappearance, bags packed and presence gone as if she was merely a ghost. It sparks gossip, questions of who she is, what happened, and where the name Milena Barton fits in.

The arrest, in the wake of the large shoot out at Primordial Auto Shop, proves to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back -- It’s the official ‘one too many’, something that’s now brought in the OPD into the mix, rather than town rumors and suspicion. Despite the violence that has always lived in Olympus, there’s never been concrete evidence of the MC involvement -- The van is empty, the tracks are covered, and no one will admit to anything. But then again, it was believed that Primordial MC would never fall apart in the way it has, either. The news catches the attention of Anya Teras, an ATF agent who’s had an eye on Olympus but no concrete way into the town. Until a file with the record of Richard Gardner’s arrest lands on her desk, her coworker giving her a wicked sort of smile. 

This is what they’ve been waiting for.

end of act i.

[lastofmykindrp]

In the late hours of the night, long after the Founder’s Festival had ended and everyone had made their way home (Even the drunks), a certain silence fell over Olympus. Stillness fills the streets, as the town winds down after a beloved tradition. Miles away, on the south side of town, the sound of glass shattering could be heard at the Dive. It’s not uncommon to hear a commotion at all hours of the night coming from the building, but tonight -- It breaks the silence Olympus had settled into. No alarms goes off, no one near by hears. A baseball bat goes through the front door, before an intruder enters. All that can be heard is the whistle of the wind and the sound of glass crushed under the heel of a boot. 

Within a matter of minutes, chaos has broken out -- Bottles hit the floor, tables flipped over, nearly every window ending up broken just like the first. The stage is destroyed, the intruder going as far ripping a few of the floor boards up. Once the bar was destroyed, the clubhouse upstairs soon followed. By some miracle, either no members of the Trojan MC were there or seemed to be too black out drunk to notice the commotion, leaving the intruder to do his bidding. The common area was destroyed, dorm rooms torn apart. The only thing left untouched was the bar top. The area was left eerily in place, with one word spray painted atop -- Primordial.