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A   B E A C O N   O F   H O P E   I N   T H E   G R E A T E S T   T I M E   O F   N E E D,

    A    S H A D O W    O F   S I N   I N   A   S H A D Y   D I S T R I C T

 

++++++++++

Nemo Me Impune Lacessit 

++++++++++

 

 "Be prepared to be hated by the world. It's very lonely out there when you don the blue."

 

God, had her Sargent ever been more accurate in that warning? Probably not. It's one of the hardest lessons a police officer learns. Your entire life is what you give to do what you love. 

 

Was the sacrifice worth it for Zoey? She didn't know, but over time she honestly didn't care. 

---

The day was starting for her despite the late hour, and tattooed digits skimmed over that polyester and wool blend of threads compromising her uniform; she was making sure that everything was in place. A heavy leather duty belt protested in a groan as she slung it over her head and clipped it around her waist, each pouch upon it holding a necessary tool of her trade 

Getting dressed was a routine that always seemed to ground her.  To an officer, duty gear can give everything from a comforting feeling to a false sense of protection. Much like what her body armor did... It was always something desperately needed. Over time, putting on her uniform became a flick of a switch. Observant, quiet, and vulnerable, the creature of the night morphed into someone entirely different. A woman capable of it all, armed with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. 

Small keeper bands clicked into place here and there around the thick strip of leather, all the meanwhile eliciting a sigh. It was time for another roll call. Another workday. Another bout of "Yes ma'am, and No sir..." Of paperwork and citations. Of being hit, yelled at, and notified of what orifice her involvement should go in. It didn't matter if she loved or hated it; it was time to perform her duties. 

 

a03f3479dbb9f5eaf10d1471f3cf5c79.jpg?width=300- "What good is there in behaving anymore...?" -

 

It was a haunting thought that seemed ever to plague her. Was there even a point in pretending? Sure, she believed in her job and the need to uphold the law. But was it worth being entirely and unquestioningly good? No, It just wasn't cutting it.  

Not with the way their city was changing. 

People didn't get it.

There were insane creatures afoot. Sadistic tormentors, golden-tongued crime lords, and those that got everything they wished for right into the palm of their hand without worrying what it did to other individuals.

People, however,  were acting like nothing but sheep, blindly believing that they would never once in their lifetime encounter these individuals. That there was no need for rule and regulation. That they could protect themselves. They nicknamed them societal idiots, Fools living in glass bubbles, oblivious to the world of evil that surrounded them. 

Despite her ever-growing and learned hatred of people, Zoey loved interacting with the scum of the world in a work capacity. They proved to be the challenge she needed and ultimately craved. 

Over time, watching when they benefited from what they did.....she could see why crime became so beguiling. The crime was always that siren's call, especially when her life was working hard for little pay and slim results. 

Their offers to her to join their side quickly became a tempting goal.

                                                                                                                                

Slamming that blue metal door shut, Zoey checked herself one more time in a wall-length mirror to5c133ec5ea3f96c2d9db956c03e45bdd.jpg?width=300 make sure everything continued to stay in place.

 Hands reached up above her breast pocket to adjust the sizeable silver oval that blared her department and badge number. Sarge would get after her even for that minor infraction if he noticed, and It's not exactly something she needed.

And then a small tear from a fight a few days ago caught her attention. Damnit. 

   "That's the last fucking time they get the first hit off. I'm sick of their shit..." She muttered. 

  Try as she might to avoid it, she was beginning to change. And her co-workers? They were starting to see it as well. The woman wasn't exactly silent in her opinion, in fact, she was straight-up vocal. 

'It doesn't matter how I do my job. All that matters to me is that it's done.'

It was something that she had spouted one day, the phrase catching some attention. Especially to those who were quite like-minded. They couldn't help but agree. They felt it too. 

Turn off the video camera, ditch the mic, and take it back to how it was before any of the babying and propriety was around. These people in this day and age were nothing but complete spoiled brats. When it came to calls and Zoey's boot touched a scene, she became the person in charge and was going to be listened to. Their rule was not a suggestion. Community policing, like they had demanded caused nothing but chaos.

 

---

 

   Shoving thoughts from her head she turned from the changing room and walked down that old abandoned school hallway. It still smelled faintly of dry erase boards, pencils, and textbooks. 

At night, it was even slightly creepy thanks to all the lockers still residing inside. Zoey often wondered if they might still hold any remaining contents. Long ago the building had been considered condemned and too dangerous for its students. A magic word for their city to mean: cheap operating costs.

Eventually, a right-hand turn brought her into the roll call room.

A few faces turned towards her, calling out her name and waving an arm to join. They wanted to hear about that one particular crazy call from the night before involving a nude runner who somehow managed himself into a horrible predicament with a cactus garden, or was it the drunk man on the horse attempting to offer her a beer? Either way, everyone bantered, told stories and continued about their business. Pre-shift antics were always in abundance, paperwork was forever being reviewed and turned in, and others took to desperately working on finishing up previous night's reports.

Eventually, the babbling of officers became overlapped by a male voice of authority, snapping their attention to the front of the room. Assignments time. Zoey wound up nestled into the crook of an arm that belonged to one of her SWAT training buddies and waited out the lists, listening for her roll call number.

 

"Twenty-one thirty-five..."

 

She flicked a hand up in response to her number.

"Car six-four-seven-five, and district three charlie thirty-one. Have fun Ryder, You got the ditch tonight."

 

The Ditch, Sunrise. It was Satan's spawn of a place. Where every night wasn't complete without a shooting, a foot chase, a car chase, and at least 4 arrests. Many of the officers lovingly dubbed it:

 

'GUNRISE'

 
 
 

________________________________________________________

 
 
 
 
 

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T H E   R A G E

 

Someone, somewhere,  decided that their rally cry would involve a call to arms against the men and women in blue. Their seething hatred seemed to spread, like a trend. And when it reached the pinnacle? Well, they were completely successful in using that popularity to raise a rebellion in the guise of a march.

It wasn't a protest like they claimed, it was an all-out battle.

 

Even then, those rioting criminals began to demand and create a purge. Their claims so fervently spoken did not fall on deaf ears. They wanted people to think that officers were the violent ones. And their followers started to listen. 146 have been killed in the line of duty. 146 officers fallen victim to evils' wrath in less than a year's time.

Unfortunately, there are much more that will follow. 

 

"Kill the pigs. All deserve to die!" When Zoey had one of her partners gunned down at a stoplight one fateful evening by a man toting an AK 47, something inside the woman snapped. 

 

----------

 

Every time she heard the threats, every time they attempted to take her life Zoey pushed back. 

 

I will not go down without a fight. 

I will not lose to these people.

 

They threatened to kill her. If it meant that she would go home, and continue to survive...Zoey would gladly take a life. She no longer had any remorse on the topic.

 
 
 
 

________________________________________________________

 
 
 
 
 

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O F F I C E R

ELIZABETH  AMELIA  RYDER

 

#2135

 

Known Alias: Zoey Ryder, Elizabeth Culainn, Noelle, Noel.

Height:  5'10

Weight:  155 lbs

Eyes:  Amber

Hair:  Raven

Body Type:  Hourglass/Fit

Sexuality:  Bi-Sexual

 Markings: Tattoos- Full Bodysuit

 

Inch by silken inch those ornate tattoos splay across the entirety of her body. If there's a place that one might dare dream to walk their fingers, they can surely find something.  Somewhere amidst all the splendor tells the reality. It describes a tale well woven into the very fibers of her being and gives her a sense of protection from the scars it covers. It whispers of the fragility she carries down floral works of angelic means and speaks of the deadly path her life leads by the nightshades on the arm that extends to her trigger hand.

Someone once said that tattoos should have meaning. For Zoey, it's undeniably true. 

 

Taking a simple look at a picture is a start, but one might not see the woman Zoey truly is. One might be lucky enough to catch her gaze, and when they do they can see the shimmer of fire that sits ever kindling behind hues flecked in honey and gold.

Her skin, despite its rough duties...remains a silken span rarely touched. 

Hair falls in raven waves, spilling down her shoulders to frame a delicate waist and catch soft caresses where hips begin and legs go on for miles. 

 
 

                                   

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A B I L I T I E S

-Hand to Hand Combatives-

-Sniper-

 -Field Training Officer-

-SWAT-

- Certified Diver -

 

The hands of an officer can carry a heavy burden. The most daunting being the fact that they can give life or take it away on a moment's notice. 

Besides keeping the body strong the mind must forever remain sharp. Capable in a fraction of a second working a plan and figuring out how to take action. All without ever giving any of it away to their threat. 

The career demands that she remains knowledgeable in the laws, and requires her to be able to remember countless pages of the statute or penal codes, their penalties, and what she can or cannot do in that particular situation. More often than not her hands are heavily bound. 

 
 

 

 
 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

 

How do you describe a woman of simplicity who is yet so infinitely complex?

Zoey is the kind who would give you the shirt off her back simply because your situation would be bettered by the gesture. 

But she will not be played the fool.

Betraying her or losing her trust is not a smart option in the slightest.  

She loves with an open heart, fully and completely to the point where it undoubtedly gets herself hurt. But it remains hidden behind a carefully constructed shell.  

Most days she's stoic and serious. But don't let it fool you into thinking that's all she is. That facade had always been a carefully constructed shield. 

Once you find yourself past the barriers Zoey is smiles and warmth, or a fiery inferno that can engulf you alive. 

She's also fiercely loyal.

Some days she's content not to say a word; forever watching the chaotic swirl of every nature in the world. On other days...she will vocalize it all, letting one know exactly what's on her mind. 

She's never needed baubles,  shiny things, expensive clothes or fancy lifestyles. All she needs is those around her who care and have her back. 

 

 

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“Her friendship is something to be treasured; enmity something to be feared.”

 
 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 

 

 
 
 

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

 
 

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He's that heady world of woad and slate.

A charmer with his gilded tongue.

 

Lost without him.

   There was one man who managed to sneak up on her and steal her heart. An oafish brute who came from only the gods knew where. The Celt was a man like every other, but with his strong build, and impulsivities, to some he came across as large and imposing.

Zoey knew better. Cullen's heart was warm, he filled the room with his personality and saved

 

space for those he cared about most. His smile, always wide, forever offered jovial happiness, his arms, stayed open for those who wanted a dance.

 

Cullen didn't care about the wall that sat in front of the woman. Instead, he took his sweet time, breaking down every inch. If she wanted to let herself build it back up behind him he was content in letting her do so.

 

He'd made his mark, and didn't have any plans of letting a soul take his place.

 

But, time does things, and when he disappeared, Zoey wondered. 

Was the Celt lost to the land of Tir Na Nog?

Was this goodbye forever?

Or was it something far more nefarious? 

 

 

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"A year and a day, you brutish oaf..." Words repeated themselves, despite his lack of presence;  restarting that promise to him as the time grew near. 

 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 
 

T H E    P A S T

 

Zoey never knew her surname. A surrogacy gone awry saw to that one.

No one knew where exactly it all began, but the earliest notion was told about a young woman lured in with the promise of money. She needed to trade only the use of one thing. Her body.

It was a wicked little deal. Something that could have been so different and beautiful. But the world isn't easy like that.

The rules were simple:

-Grow a life and get paid for it.

 
 

When claimed by none there is only one thing to do:

- St. Mary's -

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"I'm glad they thought said you were dead,...

because I shouldn't have let you into this world."

 

"Keeping you alive was the worst decision of my life."

 

------------------------------------

 

18 years can do a lot to a child's mentality in such a place. 

It can create the deranged or drive the determined. 

 
 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

M I L I T A R Y   S E R V I C E

SGT Ryder


2b3e7e4b21ff4aeecccb233d3c3cc1c0.jpg?width=300Being thrust from one nightmare to the next Zoey was handed over to the streets at the age of 18. The government was no longer in charge of her life, she was.

With no food, shelter, or a place to go to it was going to be a hard transition. She only had enough for roughly a week to survive. A voucher for a motel and the clothes on her back.

That is until warm brown eyes settled on her. He was a large man, with dark ebony skin. Muscular and bound with authority. At first, Zoey hesitated. But his hands held sincerity.

The hands of a man willing to reach out "Do you need help? Or do you want to help yourself ?" 

At first, she was skeptical. She didn't know him or what he was trying to get from her. Everyone had a master game plan, right?

It was obvious the man had a fraction of something he needed from her since the job for him was all about numbers, but when he explained that option of enlistment to her, it sounded like heaven. 

A home to live in. Her own private space over time. Being paid and given somewhere to live, a chance at a job and college. All she needed to do was sign a contract.

Some say they gave away their life, Zoey sold her soul. 

No matter what they say she would have done it a million times over if it meant getting what she was given.

A place to belong.

 

---

 

It didn't take long for Zoey to know a hard truth about her chosen profession:

Instincts are born in the rage of war.

It was something that would scar her for life. 

 

It hadn't been by her choice. He forced her hand.

 

The young black-haired boy who pointed out that AK47 at them kept her from having a decision in the matter. The situation was far to dire, and when it came down to it Required that knee-jerk reaction. An index finger was sliding into that trigger well and softly pressing down.

She heard the ping of the heavy spring in her weapon, felt the jarring against her shoulder.  A view she would never forget as she watched him go down.

His splashes of red scorched her dream and became the subject of so many nightmares from that day forward. 

 

By the time Zoey got home she felt the distance from everyone she cared for. The cold shoulders and knowing look made her feel like a monster. Her so-called newly found civilian family and friends had seen the news reports. They turned on her. Called her an abomination.

Once more they were giving her a reason to completely shut herself off and never once since then did she speak of those nightmares. It was the perfect thing to make it that much easier when she went back for round number two.

 


"THIS WE WILL DEFEND."

Army Motto

 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

T H E    S I D E    J O B

 
 
 

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Personal protection.

What an easy way to use law enforcement abilities for money.

 But this was no ordinary company.

This was the adult entertainment and the BDSM industry.

Where else was she going to find a place that welcomed her with open arms? Take her into the fold willingly?

She never judged what they did, and in turn, they never once judged her. Which was perfect, because she so easily could find herself falling into their world, and she did. 

 

As a one of its kind company Zoey made a name for herself doing what she does best. Being a Bodyguard and Security Manager.

 

Want to get on the clientele waiting list? 

Acquire a card and ask around.

 
 

 B I N D S

 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

A N    U N T O L D    F U T U R E

 
 

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What is there to do for this officer who has retired?

Work with those who have as twisted of a mind. 

Over time as every officer ends their first career they roll into a second.

For Zoey, she knew from day one that the criminal mind was a fascination. A subject she fervently studied. 

People were so twisted. Masterminds that allowed them to manipulate everything around them by their words and actions alone.

These were the types of individuals who felt it perfectly natural to sink their hands into a person's body with their weapon of choice.

And she wanted to, had to know the why of it all. If only so she could figure out the urges of her own.

 

Generally, if Zoey is not working in the jails, then she's taking on contracts for police departments in times of trauma. 

 
 

[ Forensic Psychology: The intersection between psychology and the justice system. It involves understanding fundamental legal principles, particularly with regard to expert witness testimony. This may also incorporate service to understanding the criminal mind and their actions.  ]

 
 
 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

T H E    G E A R

"35lbs to remind you that you are responsible for the world."

 

Just like every other officer, Zoey is equipped with a plethora of tools. As Zoey likes to say, it's a "Lady Batman Belt." The name had been dubbed by a small child she had once saved from horrible conditions.

The duty belt is everything an officer has at their disposal, and it's key. The possible difference between life and death. 

 
 
 

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DUTY  BELT

From left to right: 2 Ammo Magazines  -  Taser (Not Pictured)  -  Radio  -  Flashlight -

-  2x Handcuffs -  Keys - Baton  -  Gun  -  Gloves  -  Pepper Spray

 
 
 

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BULLET   PROOF   VEST

Gel composite with a steel stab plate. Heavy round impact capable.

 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

 T H E     W E A P O N S

 

"The only difference I get in a life or death situation."

 
 

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MELODY

- Handgun -

- Glock 19, Generation 4 -

-.40 -

 
 
 

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HARMONY

- Rifle -

 - Bushmaster Police M4 -

- 5.56/2.23 -

 
 
 
 

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SYMPHONY

-Shotgun-

- Bushmaster with Door Breech

- 12 gauge -

 
 
 
 

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DISCORD

- Taser -

- X26 -

-50,000 volts -

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 
 
 

T H E    P A T R O L   V E H I C L E S   -   6 4 7 5 / 6 4 7 9

 
 

-V8 Dodge Charger Police Package Edition-

-Police Sportbike KTM Prototype-

 

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_____________________________________________________________________________

 

TOO LONG, DIDN'T READ:

 

Zoey is a police officer who is starting to question the rules. She's working in a society that is slowly turning against cops, and finding herself alienated by everyone she cares about.

She's been burned. Hard. Even by the people she considered close friends. She wants to love but is finding it hard to allow that to happen (Persistence storyline is different on that end). She's beautiful, stubborn, feisty, and can return or take a hit or two. 

She became an orphan by odd design and joined the military once she was too old to adopt. Returning home, she became a cop. 

Eventually, she retired and became a Forensic Psychologist.

 

Also: Guns and cars.

 

___________________________________________________________________

 
 

R U L E S

                                                                  

 

- 21+ Only-

-Multi-Para to Novella style.-

-Expect adult themes. Gore, violence, sex and narcotics appear in my story lines. -

- No anime/cartoon,  child or underage characters, please. -

-Zoey does have alt story lines to fit many occasions. I also have a supernatural aspect to her written out if that is more your style.-

-Plotting Preferred-

- Inbox or PM -

- If you friend request me please leave a comment or inbox message. -

-The Earth and Persistence/Hellifyno story lines are different.-

- I might grow very fond of you  OOC/IC but I'm not using this place to find a romantic relationship IRL. -

- Sometimes replies take a while. Zoey and I share the same job. Court time and sequesters happen. Writer's block happens. Life happens. -

-Smut happens, but Zoey isn't here to be your porn star.-

 
 
 
 

Zoey Ryder FC: Cleo Wattenström

Cop Zoey FC: Michelle Rodriguez (SWAT)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

Profile Style (Customize your page with CSS here!)

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Character Species

Human


Character Gender

Female


Character Relationship Status

Single


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Multi-Para, Novella


Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Realistic, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure


Comment Wall

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Comments

  • Apparently so.
    I know; can barely contain your excitement, right?

    3741278280?profile=RESIZE_180x180

  • "Pfft. Whiskey goes down like water if you're a fucking fish."

    326861868?profile=RESIZE_710x

  • If you're getting a reply my writing is a little ADHD right now but I promise it gets better. It's been a while. 

  • "True.... I wouldn't mind bein' frisked by you.
    What took your cute ass so long,hm? You fuckin' disappearing on me all the time,Zo."

    133511784?profile=RESIZE_710x

  • |: Oh my fuck.. Maria Brink is my goddamn wife.
    Honestly,I've never seen a woman so perfect. I mean,her face looks like it got smushed between elevator doors and her voice sounds like a dying cat in a barrel,but my god,that body. The shit I would do to her.

  • "You hintin' at somethin', darlin'?"

    132484018?profile=RESIZE_710x

  • |: I'll throw some words your way,if you want. >:D~

  • Life is life. Busy and hectic. But I'm missing words. Come out and play of you feel like it.
    128629749?profile=RESIZE_710x

  • 50393659?profile=RESIZE_710x"Hey hey hey... Operative word 'missed' isn't really in my vocabulary.
    Gotta do more than a mere kiss to get me to miss anything,sweetheart."
    -Implying? Subtly. The artistry that doused her body was no dout a masterpiece,however the mouth on her
    wasn't something he needed at the same time. Well.. Unless the obvious,but that was something he knew wasn't going to happen.
    Fucking brat.-

    "Why don't you uh... Come over later? We can get reacquainted.." He purred. His free hand quickly blocking his balls for safety precautions. Never can tell with the fallen authority.

  • "I think you might've missed my ass,Zo."

    50385239?profile=original

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