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 


The minute her hands wrapped around that hard earned badge the warning sprang forth from her trainer. "Be prepared to be hated by the world. It's very lonely out there when you don the blue." Her mentor had never been more correct. She had to give up so much just to do what she loved. This included letting go of those who she held close.

Was the sacrifice worth it? She didn't know, but she honestly didn't care anymore. 


The day was just starting for her despite the late hour, and tattooed digits skimmed over that polyester and wool blend of a uniform, making sure that everything was in place. .A heavy leather duty belt made a protesting sound as she slung it over her head and motioned to clip it around her waist. 

 Duty gear for some reason gave a comforting feeling. A false sense of protection perhaps. Either way it was a routine that always seemed to ground her. Something she desperately needed. Much like a switch that changed the woman from vulnerable to a creature of the night Zoey always seemed to don a different mindset when she got ready.

 Snapping small keeper bands here and there around the thick strip of leather she sighed. It was time for another roll call. Another work day. Another bout of "Yes ma'am, and No sir..." Of paperwork and citations. Of being hit, yelled at, and notified of what orifice she should put her involvement in. It was time to go perform her duties. 


- "What good is there in behaving anymore...?" -


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

Not with the way  the city was changing. 

People just didn't get it.

There were demented creatures afoot. Sadistic tormentors, golden tongued crime lords, and those that got everything they wished for right into the palm of their hand.

People were acting like nothing but sheep. Blindly believing that they would never once in their lifetime encounter these individuals. That there was absolutely no need for rule and regulation.  She'd always called 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 absolutely loved interacting with the scum of the world in a work capacity. Even if it was to break up their fun and put them behind bars.

Over time though, watching when they benefited from what they did.....she could see why crime was so beguiling.

Their offers to her to join their side had been a little bit more than tempting. 



Slamming that blue metal door shut, Zoey checked herself in a wall length mirror to make sure everything was in place. Hands reached up above her breast pocket to adjust the large silver oval that blared her department and badge number.

A small tear from a fight a few days ago caught her attention.  

"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. 

'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.

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. They were in charge, and were going to be listened to. Their rule was not a suggestion.

 It's what each of them in her department started working hard to reinstate. 




   Shoving thoughts from her head she turned from the changing room, and walked down that old abandoned school hallway. Digits skimming across the old blue metal lockers and layered white paint upon brick.

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 crazy call from the night before involving a nude runner and a man who got himself into a horrible predicament in a cactus garden, or was it the naked man on the horse attempting to offer her a beer? Either way, everyone continued about their business. Pre-shift antics were in abundance, paperwork was being reviewed and turned in, and others were finishing up previous night's reports.

Eventually the babbling of officers was quickly overlapped by a male voice of authority, snapping their attention to the front of the room. Assignments were being called. 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..."


Zoey 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. 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 had lovingly dubbed it:




She loved the challenge. 






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 rise a rebellion in the guise of a march.

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


Even then, They began to demand and create a purge. Their claims did not fall on deaf ears. They wanted people to think that officers were the violent ones. And their followers started to listen. 140 have been killed in the line of duty. 140 officers fallen victim to evils' wrath in less than a year's time.

Unfortunately there are many 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, 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 loose to these people.


If she had to take a life....so be it. She no longer had any remorse.





O F F I C E R    

E L I Z A B E T H    A M E L I A     R Y D E R


Known Alias: Zoey Ryder

Height:  5'10

Weight:  155 lbs

Eyes:  Amber

Hair:  Raven

Body Type:  Fit/Hourglass

Sexuality:  Bi-Sexual


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.  Don't let that ornate line work fool you, amidst all the splendor tells the reality. It's a carefully constructed tale well woven into the very fibers of her being. Each one gives her a sense of protection from the scars it covers. They whisper of the fragility she carries by means of floral works and angelic scenery, which is in sharply contrasted on it's opposite side; calling out to it's reader of the deadly nightshades 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. 

Her body forever remains a statue of peak physical condition, worked hard through years of rigor. 

[Note: Zoey is generally portrayed as human, unless otherwise plotted.]



- Hand to Hand Combatives -

- Expert Marksman -

- Field Training Officer -


- Certified Diver -

 The hands of an officer can carry a heavy burden. The most powerful being the fact that they can give life or take it away on a moments notice. The mind must forever remain sharp and in a fraction of a second one must be able to plan and take action, 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 what that statute or penal code  she is supposed to enforce entails. 




-Protective -

-Cautious -


- Rebellious - 

-Neutral Good-




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

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

She is smiles and warmth, and yet she's a fiery inferno that can engulf you alive. 

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

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











"Love and relationships have always been an unfortunate sacrifice of the job."



Relationship Status: Single






T H E    P A S T


Zoey never knew the names of her parents. She was the result of a surrogacy gone awry. A creature created out of love and heartache. What was once a blessing suddenly became the worst thing that had ever come of her life. Hours of labor resulted in the fruition of every nightmare, a stillborn birth. Blue in the face and silent the nurses and doctors swept the female baby away to work on her elsewhere and never returned with good news.



 On the night of her 18th birthday, Zoey walked out the door and stepped right into the arms of the Army. It was a place she hoped that she could find shelter, money and food.

Over time Zoey eventually tracked down her surrogate mother in a small town north of her state’s capital. The woman, now in her late 40’s wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. Had a criminal history sheet a mile long, and told her it was the worst decision of her life. That her involvement with her had been a mistake.


"I'm glad they thought you were dead, I wouldn't have kept you anyways."



 M I L I T A R Y   S E R V I C E


Fleeing a nightmareish hell of a place Zoey took to the streets before she found the Army. With no food, shelter, or a place to go it was going to be a hard transition. That is until warm brown eyes settled on her and the dark ebony skin on the hands of a man reached out and asked if she needed help. 

At first, she was hesitant. At first she didn't know what he was trying to get from her. Everyone had a master game plan, right? He had as well, but when he explained that option of enlistment to her, well it sounded like heaven. 

She sold her soul to them, but would have done it a million times if it meant the promise of belonging somewhere. 


Little did Zoey know she'd find out a hard truth:

Instincts are born in the rage of war.


It hadn't been by her choice. The young black haired boy who pointed that AK47 at them forced her hand. Before she knew what was going on her index finger was sliding into that trigger well and softly pressing down. His splashes of red would scorch her dreams, become the subject of so many nightmares from that day forward. 





Army Motto






T H E    S I D E    J O B




Personal protection. What an easy way to use law enforcement abilities for money.  But this wasn't an 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?

She never judged what they did, and in turn they never once judged her. 

As a one of it's kind company, Zoey's made a name for herself doing what she does best.


Want to get on the clientele waiting list? 


Acquire a card and ask around.



It's up to you to find out everything else. 

If you manage to get your hands on one of those rare matte black pieces of cardstock there is only one word you'll find: 



 B I N D S






A N    U N T O L D    F U T U R E




What is there to do when an officer has had enough? Work with those who have just 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.


People who were so twisted that they could manipulate everything around them by their words and actions alone. People who felt it perfectly natural to sink their hands into a person's body with their weapon of choice. She wanted to know the why. And perhaps figure out why she had urges like that 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. 





From left to right:

-2 Ammo Magazines  -  Taser (Not Pictured)  -  Radio  -  Flashlight -  2x Handcuffs -

-  Keys - Baton  -  Gun  -  Gloves  -  Pepper Spray -




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."



- Handgun -

- Glock 19, Generation 4 -

-.40 -



- Rifle -

 - Bushmaster Police M4 -

- 5.56/2.23 -




- Bushmaster with Door Breech

- 12 gauge -



- Taser -

- X26 -

-50,000 volts -











T H E    P A T R O L   CAR   -   6 4 7 5



- V8 Dodge Charger Police Package Edition -

- Rear Partition/Center Weapon Console -









-18+ Please, respect me on this. Player is over 21.-

-I am not here to find a relationship, I'm here to play. Of course I might grow pretty fond of you OOC/IC, but don't expect anything to come of this IRL.-

-Absolutely NO modding my character unless we agree on something.-

-I'm a fan of gore, violence, sex and narcotics in my story lines. Just don't expect this to turn into some - every time we write - crazy porno. You'll get the boot.-

-I'm dirty minded, and have a dark sense of humor, take it or leave it .-

-Multi Para to Novella Writer-

-If you friend request me leave a comment or  inbox message. I have a glitch for some reason on this account that wont let me see adds.-

-Sometimes replies take a while. For this I am sorry. Zoey and I share the same job. Training happens.Court time and sequesters happen. Writers block happens. Life happens. -

-You add me, you start. Unless we've agreed otherwise.-

-Let me know if you have a romantic interest in mind for Zoey.-

- Plotting heavily preferred. -

- Skype (Messenger Only): Zoey.Ryder1  -















Zoey Ryder FC: Cleo Wattenström

Cop Zoey FC: Michelle Rodriguez (SWAT)


Profile Style (customize your page with CSS here!)

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Character Name

Elizabeth Zoey Ryder

Character Species


Character Gender


Character Relationship Status

Not really looking....

Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Multi-Para, Novella

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

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

About the Writer (OOC)

Busy many days, I try to write when I can.

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  • "Don't be stupid, I don't lay my bike down.

    Why? Weren't worried about me, were ya?"

  • || Take your time! I know I've been there. It's a pain.

  • It really wasn't his place to chastize,but this was time sensitive. If they didn't fuck off,they'd have huge issues without weaponry. His ears pricked at the sound of a bike and artillery. Shit yeah,he knew how to ride. Fuck,he wasn't sure if he was excited more about the bike than he was about her kiss. Being able to mount something fast and furious was more than something he'd get giddy about. Swaggering closer to the cruiser,his brows furrowed. She was asking him to be seated in the front? 

    Oh... Ha ha.

    Yeah yeah,laugh it off,he felt. "Maybe,once or twice.." He murmured subtly. Not wanting to go into details about the fucked up shit he'd done in his past. Although at the time,he felt he was being reasonable. He still felt he was a reasonable man,albeit less boundaries since the rise and fall of governments this given opportunity. His mind was still pecolating thoughts about her leaving him in the cell. Negan was vague about most things he kept to himself,and his forever cryptic features never gave way that the wheels in his head were turning.
    Still was needing some type of closure on that shit. More than a mere apology would suffice.

    (Ignore drivers seat portion)

    Negan did prefer being up close and personal. And letting off steam would be nice,depending on the weapon of choice-or should he say,whatever fucking weapon she felt he could use. Jesus fucking Christ,he may as well drop himself off at home and grab his baseball bat. A couple whacks to the cranium and that would've been enough to knock anyone's block off,let alone the walkers. Seems like a great idea,if he was being honest with himself. "Alright,in and out,I won't touch shit,but then I need to get back to my place for a moment." his tone was quiet,as he hopped into the passenger seat,shifting his weight more toward the door as he ensured it was locked and then left his legs spread. What a fucking day.

  • Was she safe around him? Ehh.. Mildly. The well known Daddy Dom wasn't an easy man to oppress,much less tease and expect attitude from doing so. A little taken back when she snapped at him,he figured they were both gonna leave and get to safety. Although it did cross his mind about other things. He's a fucking man,what does anyone expect? So far,he'd lost his wife,came out of the hospital with snarling jowls devouring the living as if it were their last meal-which... Obviously they were fucking mindless zombies craving the need to feed once they reanimated. That much remained to be seen. And then she threw his ass into the slammer,and he escaped,only for her to come looking for him,kiss him and then walk away?

    Nuh nuh nuh..

    "Zoey.. This isn't a fucking joke!! There are goddamn walkers everywhere!! We need to leave,N O W." he urged. Now it was a matter of life or death,and suddenly the one thought in his mind,was now the furthest. They had to find somewhere safe,and figure out the rest later. Board up back at the hospital? No,that's not gonna work. There were bodies laying strewn across the corridors,all bullet wounds and biters alike. What if they went higher? Was that a possibility? Higher ground?
    "Wait... Let's grab some guns. We're gonna need them anyway." he hoped to reason. If she was wound up tighter than a virgin during prom,then he was shit out of luck with the artillery. Even still,they needed some kind of weaponry.

  • Welp.. Negan didn't see that comin'. Although he always knew things betwixt him and the oppsoite gender,typically had the same ending,but it was a first to have a woman pushing the envelope... Kudos Zoey,he thought. Supple lips met his own beneath the peppered stuble that gently trickled along her chin. A smug grin following soon afterward once she pulled away. Slender digit in the lightest tapping the tip of his nose as she purred. Ahh,no wonder he's a womanizer. With beauty such as that,how could any man not get weak in the knee's? Well. Fuck yeah.

    Kissing his teeth as his tongue pushed along the inside of his cheek,he opted to remain close. Invading her personal space,something that the well known demagogue familiarized himself with,when it came to anybody. A) People tend to cower and become more subservient,and B) She was fucking hot,despite the original set up behind bars.
    Would've been a first time Negan would've gotten anywhere with someone of her caliber. A cop? Pfft. Jesus. With his record,he couldn't believe that much,himself.

    "Tempted to make it up to me?" He murmured huskily. His toothy grin fading as he playfully slid his finger along her upper arm,before pulling away. "You seem eager enough as it is,all things considered. Tracking my ass down and apologizing and shit. I've a feeling you'll be making it up to me sooner than you realize." Cocky? More than likely. He held reason to be that way. No point being over confident if he felt he had nothing to offer. "But yeah. Let's fuck off out of here. Find somewhere safer."

  • Welp, If I come across disjointed go with it. Shaking out the cobwebs while I get back into the swing of things. 

  • "I wouldn't know.. You thought of me,hm? I'm intrigued.. I've been curious too,though..
    Curious as to why you fucking left me there.. Curious why you're here acting although nothings wrong.
    Curious why you're still wearing all that clothing."
    -Did he want a taste? Perhaps. Was he mad? A little. Was he going to make her pay? Heavily.-

  • "Am I still a pain in the ass....Well,I guess it takes one to know one,hm?"

    "Interesting to see you again.. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  • I had to do some serious adulting. I didn't mean to run away but it happens with me. I'm slowly returning.

  • //Yep... I deserve at least a smack in the head, I'm sorry! I'LL BE BETTER, I SWEAR

    "Oh c'mon, my dyna's a modest girl; ain't showin' too many shiny parts,
    and I bet she's got more power in her than your little race replica there.

    Don't be jealous 'cos mine's the prettiest and comfier to ride, baby.
    Might even let you ride bitch and see for yourself if you ask nicely."

This reply was deleted.