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Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2016 3:12:05 GMT
It was a mistake, but if it meant being in Chicago or meant walking into a bar and getting drunk on his first night back home he did not know. Either felt like a terrible idea, something he would regret in the morning, but terrible ideas seemed to be the only thing Isaac could ever have. The taste of his drink was atrocious, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes with every new swing of it, but it was alcohol, and it helped to forget, no matter how much he hated the damn thing. And he did hate the damn thing, but after so many years, and so many memories he wished he never had, it was hard to do without. He had already forgotten how many drinks he had had that night, it only went to prove how effective it was.
Already a few of his memories escaped him, and he couldn't recall why he was in Chicago in the first place. Was he here to meet someone? Couldn't be right, he did not know anyone around, know anyone anymore... He was here for something, definitely, otherwise he would have never set foot back in the city. But as he looked at his glass, now almost empty, his eyes blurring out as he took a last sip, he did not have the strength to fight his brain to remember. As he put the glass down it slipped away from his shaking hand, landing on the counter harder than he had intended it to. It brought upon him the attention of a few of the other customers, but in his state he did not take notice of it. After a second the heads turned back, all except two, but Isaac hadn't seen them.
It was hard not to break apart right then, it always was, but he tried to chase away the tears and reached out to his tags hanging around his neck, as they always did, and would probably always do. Much like alcohol, he hated them, but couldn't do much without them. How many times had he tried to throw them away, only to stop himself at the last second, clinging onto them as if to dear life. Maybe it was that, after all. Dear life... Nothing too dear about his. Nothing too dear about Chicago either, other than his sister, if she was still around... No, no, not now, not the tears. He needed to get out, leave Chicago now. He did not know how he would do it, but he needed to leave. Needed to leave...
Arms barely supporting his weight he pushed himself up, precariously standing on his two shaking legs and holding himself on the counter when he finally stepped off the stool. His head started spinning, as he hadn't thought of how fast he had made his move, but he did not have the time to wait for it to work properly again. He needed to leave. As he turned around, with all intentions of carrying on the mission he had set for himself, he was stopped by a figure posting itself in front of him, a muscular arm pushing him back against the counter. His back hit it hard, and he lost his breath on the impact, eyes so wet and out of focus he couldn't see who had pushed him.
@debbie
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Post by Deleted on Dec 5, 2016 22:25:27 GMT
Many roads to take Some to joy, some to heart-ache
Debra was looking for Jamie. Bobby was home with the kids and Jamie was… well she had kind of gone off on some sort of spiral and started drinking. Debra and Bobby kept taking turns pulling her away from the bar. Jamie wasn’t too bright she usually went to the same bar. It just so happened that was exactly where her sister was. Debra took a seat beside her, when Jamie finished her drink Debra flipped her sisters glass upside down. Putting a hand on her back she was thinking that perhaps there was something she could do. Though Jamie wasn’t that simple.
The older sibling understood the need to drink and the conversation between the two turned to French. It was much more common between the sisters than English when they were personal, in public. Sure some people understood them; but not every person who walked by. “Jamie, tu ne peux pas tenir ça comme ça. Votre famille a besoin de vous.”1 She set to rubbing the younger sister’s back. Debra couldn’t watch Jamie put her whole life down the drain. Nor was she going to let her do such a thing.
“Bobby est à la maison. Ils sont probablement au lit déjà.”2 Jamie replied. Jamie’s french was much more Americanized than the older sibling’s in terms of accent. Though her words just contained a glare for Jamie. One of them that meant she was BS.
“Ce n'est pas le point que j'essayais de faire et vous le savez.”3 Debra’s voice was a bit stern but Jamie just nodded as she played the glass that was turned upside down. All Debra could do was be there for her sister. “On devrait te ramener chez toi, avant que ton mari ne s'inquičte pour toi, oui?”4 Jamie shrugged and Debra just rubbed her back some more. Jamie was stubborn and when Jamie didn’t want to do something, it didn’t get done. “Donnez-moi quel...”5 Her words were interrupted by one man slamming the other against the side of the bar. Debra sighed. This is why she didn’t do the whole bar thing.
1. Jamie, you cannot hold onto this like this. Your family needs you.
2. Bobby is at home. They are probably in bed already.
3. This is not the point that I was trying to make and you know it.
4. We should get you home, before your husband worries about you, yes?
5. Give me a few minutes and I will get the car (doesn’t finish speaking)
Brighton @isaac Oxford NOTES: notes here |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 8, 2016 15:59:22 GMT
"Well well well, if it isn't little Isey back to base." Isaac tried to push himself back up, but his arm let go under him and he crashed back into the counter. Another figure walked up behind the first, but he was trying so hard to remember to whom the voice belonged to he did not see anything of it. 'Isey', 'back to base'... his head hurt from trying to piece it together, but he was so far gone his mind could only scream 'Leave!'. He tried to get up again, but his hand slipped against the surface and his side fell onto it, his ribs receiving all the weight of his body. "We haven't seen you for what, 20 years?" He blinked, his side hurting so badly he couldn't move. The second voice he hadn't recognized either, but from what they said, they had recognized him, yet he couldn't imagine how. They had to know him first to recognize him.
Wait. The army. "17..." He said it more to himself than to the two unidentified figures, out in a breath he was still searching for. He did not know who, but how. He had left Chicago 17 years ago, a transfer to another base because of... No, no thinking of that, but it made sense. Were the two soldiers from back when? "I don't see your little boyfriend around, what happened to him?" The realization came crashing down into him so fast he felt his legs give out under him, the voice echoing through his ears as he fell. An arm caught him before he hit the ground, dragging him up and pushing him to his side into the stool. "Trouble in paradise?"
The second voice made his stomach flip. Not them, oh please no not them. He had taken the precaution of avoiding all the bars he knew soldiers frequented, and he had still managed to get across them. Unconsciously he started shaking, hand grabbing his tags so hard it hurt, the side of them digging into his palm so deeply he was sure he could bleed. His legs, so weak they could give up again at any moment, his mind, taken over by shear fear and panic. "No. No, no I'm not... I'm not...." He shook his head, closing his eyes, a constant flow of 'No I'm not' going through his head. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Snapping out of it he turned, eye wide, voice loud yet weak. "Don't touch me!" His available arm swung out, pushing the one that held him so violently he turned with it, his other hand still clutching at his tags.
"Or what?" His bones shook, memories flashing before his eyes. Punches, slurs, swears, tears and blood. He backed up into the counter, terrified of the man in front of him. "Not like your boyfriend is around to save you this time." The first man who had spoken stepped forward, while the other one stood a few steps behind, blocking the way so Isaac couldn't escape. No way his legs would let him even if he tried. "He's not... I'm not.. No, no, no..." He shook his head frantically, tears on his cheeks as he pushed himself further into the counter behind him. No, he was trapped. "Jake is dead..." He barely heard it himself as he said it, vision blurred from the alcohol and the tears. "What I didn't hear you?"
The punch hit him before he could do anything, and after it landed, he was grabbed by the collar and hauled to the side. He landed on the ground, back against a table. It's a wonder it did not break from the impact. "Can't believe they still let your kind walk around." The man that had stayed away walked up to him, and before he knew it, he was kicked in the stomach. Another myriad of 'I'm not' came stumbling out of Isaac's mouth, but another kick shut him up, and he was left curled up on the floor, holding onto his tags. "You look better on the ground." He didn't which of the two man did it, but he was sure one of them spit on him.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2016 4:28:07 GMT
Many roads to take Some to joy, some to heart-ache
When the fight broke out Debra and Jamie both got on their feet. Jamie was drunk herself but at least she could help to restrain one of them. Jamie was soon breaking apart one of the males who had went after the man who was hurt. Jamie and Debra did not take anyone well to anyone messing with former or current military. It wasn’t any easy task, the men were stronger and military trained. Though both blondes managed the upper hand. “Move and I break your arm” Jamie hissed. Debra slid her a pair of handcuffs once she had the male at hand in custody.
“The two of you are under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney then one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you and do wish to talk to the FBI?” Debra rambled out.
Jamie paid no attention to the fact that she was wearing Bobby’s coast guard jacket, not the one he had for work but merely the one that even civilians could own. Jamie shot a look at her sister, was she really going to arrest these two twits? Knowing Debra that was a high chance. There were some things that she didn’t up with and that was one of them.
Debra called in for a local transport as she dialed her phone. Several other officers who were off duty got up to help once they realized the FBI was acting. That left Jamie free to go help Isaac up of the floor. Jamie extended a hand. As soon as Debra got off the phone Jamie knew what was going to happen. Debbie was going to go all mother hen. The phone went down. Cue 3… 2… 1.
Jamie had opened her mouth to try and warn the guy but Debra put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and eyes darted to the bar. Her sister was drunk, so Debra was careful. Though Deb’s attention was once more back on Isaac. “Can I get you anything?” she asked as she motioned to the bartender for some ice and a rag.
Brighton @isaac Oxford NOTES: notes here |
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2016 0:22:41 GMT
He had hopes that after that they would leave him alone, but in the haze of memories he remembered that they had never done so in the past, and before he knew it a foot connected with his rib cage again, and all of the air in his lungs was suddenly gone. His hand reached out to grab the foot pushing down on him, hoping he had enough strength to push it away, but his fingers slipped on the boot, and a whimper escaped him. The more the man pushed the more it hurt, and the less strength he had in his hand to push him away. Then the pressure was gone, but he did not have time to realise it before he saw the man leaning down over him, and reaching out to grab his tags. "You don't need that. Give it to me." The man yanked them away and Isaac's neck protested violently, but his hands grabbed onto his tags as hard as he could, tugging them back towards him. "No!" He screamed as loud as he could, as loud as his burning lungs allowed him, but the man never stopped pulling.
The man was still pulling when a young lady Isaac hadn't seen before tried to drag him away, and as she did, Isaac could only follow the motion, follow his tags, his neck hurting so bad he cried out in pain. His hands were still trying to free himself from the man's grip, but he was too weak to even protest the pull. "This is none of your business blondie, it's between us and little Isey here." The man turned to her abruptly, snatching his arm away from her grasp. It was quick enough to remove Isaac's tags from around his neck and send him flying backwards, right back against the table. The loss of a pull back made the man lose his balance, and before he knew it his arms were dragged behind his back. "No..." Isaac's own hand weakly reached out, pleading for the unknown lady to stop. If she did this, it would only turn out even worse for him, they'd come after him, they'd blame him. "I'd like to see you try." He heard the man hiss right back at the lady, trying to free himself, but never letting go of the tags, not even when Isaac tried to catch them.
A few feet behind he could see another lady stopping the first man before he took a step in his direction. After a moment of protest he turned to her, pointing towards Isaac as he did. "So you wanna defend him?" So much disgust transpired through the pronoun Isaac recoiled against the table as he heard it, retracting his hand towards himself. "His kind doesn't belong here, anywhere, shouldn't even have been allowed to join in the first place." He was still trying to get away from her, and Isaac was thorn between running away as far as he could or fight his way to his tags. Neither he could really do in his state, no, all he could do was curl up on himself, a rapid succession of 'It's not true.' and 'I'm not.' coming out of his mouth. But then the second unknown lady dragged him back in and he found the man himself cuffed, having to listen to his rights being told. "The FBI? You kidding me right?" The same thought struck Isaac as he heard Debbie's words. No it made it worse, they would blame him, they would come after him again.
As the woman who held him grabbed her phone he pushed her to the side and tried to get away, only to be caught by an officer no one had seen coming. Isaac hadn't seen it all happen, he was curled up on the ground, eyes shut, still mumbling. He did see the man that had kicked him being dragged further away by another officer, did not see that an officer had grabbed back his tags from him and was standing there, eyeing up the two ladies and wondering what he should do with them. He hadn't seen the younger sibling extending a hand in his direction. No, he hadn't seen anything, but he heard the shouting, slowly getting away with the man that had said it. "You shouldn't have come back, you weirdo, you shouldn't even be-" alive. It hadn't been said, but he knew it was the next word, every one knew it was the next word. It forced Isaac to curl up even more, crying out at the pressure it caused to his ribs.
He still wasn't aware of the lady leaning over him, aware that the other sibling wasn't on the phone anymore. He barely registered the words that were said to him, his ears still ringing with the last words of his attacker. "My tags..." it came out in a whisper as he slowly extended a hand towards where he had last touched them. He only hoped they weren't gone with the man. "Please..." He needed them more than he needed the ice, he wasn't anyone without them, but he couldn't tell the lady. He could only shake, feeling the strength in his held out hand fading away as it fell to the ground.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2017 23:24:11 GMT
all the kids cried out please stop you're scaring me I can't help this awful energy  god damn right you should be scared of me who is in control? Jamie was handed a set of dog tags by the officer who took the men away in handcuffs. It was clear they didn't belong to the man they had arrested. Jamie pocketed them for safe keeping until she could get back to her sister and the guy on the floor. Why did her sister have to drag her into things like this? Jamie would never understand really. Deb was the nurturing type, Jamison... not so much. But Jamie was the protective type. This was going to be complicated. Debra didn't honestly care if the man laying on the ground didn't want help. She was considered a mandatory reporter and she had to act. He could hate her all he wanted. She was going her job. The girls simply ignored those who were doing the assaulting. They were used to the back lash for any numerous things. They were not as feminine as they appeared to be. Debra was only feminine around her family; but at work it had no place. She had always been good at separating. The girls had no idea what was going on. Jamie got on the phone. "This is Lieutenant Oxford, Chicago Police. Badge 16108. 10-10 advisement for an 11-41. Code 217. Victim Male appears to be in his 30's. Injuries unassessed. Please be advised 10-97." Jamie dealt with the 911 dispatch as Debra handled the injured party. Debra could tell that the man was delusional. "Lieutenant Oxford has them. Right now I need you to focus on me alright." She knew she had to try and keep him awake. "Can you tell me your name?" She offered. Sure she could have asked Jamie for it from the dog tags but that was less personable. Debra sighed. Debra wore a set of dog tags but they were not military issue. More so they were for in case anything happened in her line of work, and coming from a military family she didn't think anything of them. 10-10: Off Duty Officer 11-41: Ambulance Needed Code 217: Assault 10-97: Police On Scene @isaac |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2017 18:47:11 GMT
Even if he had had the opportunity to ask for help he wouldn't have. No, help, he was terrified of, utterly scared of the subsequent consequences if he did ask for it, of the retaliation he knew would come right after he did just that, for it had before. This situation he was far too familiar with, a reason for which he had tried to avoid the bars he knew the military frequented in the first place, but he had only found it again. It hadn't happened in a long time, ever since he had left Chicago so many years ago, but the last time it had... it hadn't ended well for Ja-... for the person that had helped him, and he couldn't let it happen again to someone else. So no, no he hadn't wanted help, he wasn't even sure his brain could have had the thought to ask for it, but he wouldn't hate Debbie for it, more so would be afraid for her safety for as long as he knew the two man to be out there. Were they to be put behind bars or not, he knew them to be resourceful enough to go through with a revenge, even if it wasn't by their own hands.
Fear, alcohol and pain, a mixture that, although well known to him by now, still made him dizzy, and even if he tried, he couldn't concentrate enough to make out the scene around him. It was all a weird composition of noises, voices and footsteps, a distant ringing in his ears alongside the echo of words he would rather forget. From far off he heard codes, police codes, and even if he did not know any of them, his confused brain thought it did, and it tried to understand what they meant. Only, when it didn't understand any of them, as it should have known, it threw itself into a state of panic that Isaac couldn't fight against. As Debbie spoke to him once again, still having no knowledge of her being next to him and with his brain so confused, it took him by surprise, and he shifted further against the table that was still against his back. Panic was taking over, made stronger by the fear he still felt, so he barely understood her request.
His name? But Why? He shook his head, the back of it bumping against the leg of the table and eliciting a grimace out of him, blurring his vision for a moment. He couldn't tell her, no one should even know he was in Chicago. But his tags, in the hands of someone else, no, that shouldn't be. "Please, I need them..." He couldn't extend his hand this time, his arm was too weak. He was asking for them more because of the sentimental value they carried than for the practical use they had, he did not feel like anyone without them, but truly, it was a need he had constructed for himself. But the panic made the need for them even more present, and he had to ask again, and he would until he got them. He tried to look up to the lady over him, tried to plead, but he couldn't distinguish her face. His own face was hurting, and he felt tired, eyes barely kept opened.
note: sorry this took so long...
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Post by Deleted on Feb 13, 2017 22:40:55 GMT
Many roads to take Some to joy, some to heart-ache
Debra and Jamie were no strangers to being targets of people who wanted revenge. You didn't get to be where they were without making lots of enemies. Though Jamie made them much easier than her older sister. That was just part of being the more hot headed of the two. Debra only got a temper when she got mother hen protective over people. Usually she was fairly chill. Though her hot headedness came out around her sister a lot more. There was a lot to be said for that.
The FBI agent heard ambulance sirens. They must have been close. Though she was glad when she caught sight of the uniform. Grabbing the dog tags from Jamie she looped them around the man's neck. She let the medics do their thing as she explained what happened to one them. Debra was going to let the CPD handle it but that didn't mean she wasn't going to stick her nose in to make sure that the CPD took care of the people who had done this. Debra wasn't the type to push, if he wasn't going to give a name... she wasn't going to push.
Debra looked towards the medics. "I'm going." She told them. They gave her a raised brow. "I want to make sure that he makes it to med." Debra also needed to talk to him when he was more coherent. Though she had things to do, she had a feeling he was going to need the protection outside his room. Call it police instinct.
Brighton @isaac Oxford NOTES: notes here |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2017 16:03:02 GMT
They never really had to do revenge in the past, for he had never really done anything to protest against them, but he knew they could do it if it came to that. Once it had happened, and he had sworn they would never have to do it again if he could do anything about it. He could use the little tempter that he had, from time to time, but against the people that had assaulted him, he never could. Showing any intention of fighting back only made the assault worse, and the hits heavier. He had learned, over the years. So if to avoid any sort of revenge exercised on him, or anyone he knew, all he could do was to get hit and not say a word, he would do it. Whether he wanted it or not, he never really had the strength to fight back anyway.
He must have hit his head quite hard against the table behind him, he was hearing things, hearing sirens in the echoing distance. Or maybe it was because of the alcohol, but still, they shouldn't be there. So many things weren't right. He could hear people walking into the room now, so many voices and footsteps, but he couldn't see anything. He could have made a bigger effort to realise what was happening, but his mind still was set on getting his dog tags back. It was a great wave of relief that coursed through him as he felt their familiar weight around his neck, that is, until he realised someone was touching him. It must have been the same lady that had asked him his name, but the shock was enough that he jerked away, hitting his head again.
That is when he found himself crowded with new faces and odd uniforms he couldn't quite place, and his panic rose as he tried to get away from the hands that were reaching out for him. He couldn't hear Debbie as she explained the situation to one of the medics, barely heard the words that were said to him. However, after a bit, he heard her as she said she was coming. For a moment he wondered where exactly, but as she said med, he was back into panic mode. "No. No no no, please, I can't go." He screamed, pushing himself away. "I'm fine. I don't need to go." He wasn't fine, of course, but he really did not think that a trip to the hospital was necessary.
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