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Konig observed the paper for a little longer before a call woke up mind up. Konig! Of course. His order was done. He heaved a sigh and silently strode to the counter, grabbing his coffee- the second one that morning- and returning to his seat. This time it was not spiked- less effective, honestly- but the caffeine would still help. He took a sip of the scalding hot liquid before continuing to write, his dark eyes flitting over the paper. He was in the middle of a note when there was a ping, then another, from his phone. Grumbling irritably, he went to silence the damned thing when he saw the sticky notes, like on the computer. He read them and his eyes narrowed considerably. I'm not stupid. You're here. That was all he texted back as his gaze immediately snapped up, roving over the small shop. Since the pings had just occured, it most likely was someone that was actively on their phone- or computer. He located two possible targets, one of them being a masked bright orange gangly looking male that could pass for gamer of the century. That looked about right. He recalled noticing when the carrot moved- the name Quinn had been called. What did the sticky notes say they were from? Qu1ckC0d32. Also started with a Q. Not a big connection, but big enough. Konig was a detective, after all, and all the hints had just been dropped in his lap. His dark gaze just managed to catch the carrot looking at him. That confirmed his suspicions. You literally look like a fucking carrot that got out of the wrong side of the bed and drank way too much alcohol- in a bad way. Please don't tell me that's you. PLEASE inform me that you're not the orange-haired sleepy headed black masked computer geek in the corner. He groaned lightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his phone on the table and scribbling down another note on the paper. Damn. |
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Quinn Gensin Quinn read over the message and smiled beneath the mask. Aw! His pookie was so smart <3. He hummed softly, leaning back in his chair. He didn't reply immediately. He couldn't be to suspicious could he? He leaned forward, texting Stace and Lee. G0D: Pookies on to me. He's so smart <3 He messaged. Only to get bombarded with messages from Stace and Lee yelling at him to be careful and all the baloni. He was fine. He knew how to lie. He texted back a slow response, fingers tapping at his keys easily. Awww, pookie, good guess! But wrong sadly enough :[ Cant be caught yet can I? Also, I think you forgot how many security cameras are around you <3 He messaged, leaning back. His eyes went to the door. Watching as Stace judt about knocked the doors down, throwing her short blonde hair behind her, she was still doing her mascara as she came in. No one even looked up. Welcome to New York City! She walked over, plopping in the seat across from him and closing his laptop. She stared at him and he raised an eyebrow. "Hello to you to." Quinn said, laughing awkwardly. Well she looked pissed- "You stupid-!" She began, then paused, finishing her mascara in her phone camera and shoving the cap back on, and dropping it on her bag. She took a deep breath, brushing off her shirt. "... you're an idiot." She grumbled. He smirked underneath his mask. "Aw thank you!" He said, tilting her head at him. Although it sorta hurt Konig was so mean. Meh. He was used to being called names. He liked his hair. Well, maybe he just liked not having his moms hair. Same difference. Stace huffed, walking away to go order and rant to Lee while he pulled out his phone. Quinn looked his phone over in boredom, reading the news with mild interest. |
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Konig kept a side eye on the carrot figure, observing every movement. He had a hunch that this was the guy, whatever the new sticky note said that had just popped up. A small smirk flitted onto his face as he read it. I believe you as far as I can throw you. Which, mind you, is absolutely zero, as you claim to be nowhere near me. Honestly, if Konig ever managed to get his hands on the person who was sending him these notes... he would throw them. Very. Far. And he would hope it hurt. He heard someone burst in the doors, and he glanced up, his eyebrows lifting slightly at the hurricane of blond hair and mascara that met his gaze, but he returned his gaze to his paper soon after. She wasn't anything special for NY. Although, it was interesting that she went to carrot head. The conversation he could overhear because she was loud and he had good hearing was also interesting. He knew that the person that had been texting him was good with computers, and he didn't doubt that they could easily see him on the video camers dotted around the place... but he also believed that the same person was sitting no more than 20 feet from him. |
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(Aw- the reveal came so soon 😔) Quinn Gensin Quinn glanced down at his phone, typing a response. Thankfully, Stace looked down at her phone do and glared at it, then looked up at Quinn. Ah, he loved when she played along. Meh. You're so cranky, pookie 😔 He messaged, then turned off his phone and looked up, earning himself another eyeroll from Stacy. Both glanced up as Lee came over, glaring at them. Stacy rolled her eyes and Quinn smiled. "Heyyy Le-" He was cut off by the brown and red haired male talking over him. "Literally go jump in traffic." Lee said, deadpan. Stacy snorted as Quinn placed a hand on his chest. "You seriously wound me." He sighed, pathetically. Lee rolled his eyes and shrugged, walking off back to work. Quinn scoffed at his audacity, leaning forward and taking another sip of his drink. His eyes darted over to Konig, who was watching him. That made him feel giddy. Again. He smiled at the male before turning back to Stace, who was looking at him, unimpressed. "Dumbass. Literal dumbass." She grumbled, Quinn rolled his eyes, again. "Like you aren't obsessed with your beautiful girlfriend." He teased. Stacey turned a brilliant shade of red, voice going an octave higher. "My girlfriend is beautiful!" She squeaked. The vibrant haired male laughed at how red she was. Ah this was so much fun. See! He could have fun without stalking Konig! Well- he always right there so that was nice. We'll, it was nice other then he didn't like his hair. Which sorta hurt. He wasn't gonna lie. |
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(Konig is smart xD) - The tall, muscular man took his gaze away from carrot head and peered back at the paper, scowling slightly as he scribbled something down. "Damn paperwork." He muttered under his breath, sucking in a low breath and putting down the pen as his phone buzzed again. Not only did he need to put it on silent, but he also needed to return to work. He glanced at it and opened the chat thread. <Tis not my fault that I'm having a bad day> He typed out with a slight grimace, downing the rest of his coffee like it was alcohol and he was broken hearted. Neither of which was true, but he could hope for the first one. He cast a glance at carrot head, finding them having looked at him and smiled- very much confirmed his suspicions- and collected his paper, standing to leave. He wasn't in the mood to do anything and didn't have the time, anyway. Konig swept past everyone with cold power emanating from him... he had a habit of looking like he may be going to kill someone, even though he usually wasn't. He had paid beforehand, per usual, so he just had to leave.. thankfully. He exited the store, his long strides taking him round the corner and away rather quickly. He wondered if Mr. Stalker really was carrot head- and if so, why he had such bad luck. Honestly, if he was into tall buff guys, the universe handed him a little fluffy bright orange adorable rabbit. [Did you just think of carrot head as an adorable rabbit?] He thought, groaning slightly and pinching the bridge of his nose, quickening his strides. Of course, his brain was now malfunctioning. Too many hours staring at a computer did that to him. And everyone, in his opinion, because honestly... HE wasn't the brightest choice for Mr. Stalker. He was more likely to spew shit out of his mouth than entertain whatever the hell was going on. Still... he had humored them all this time, hadn't he? What did that say about him? Konig shook his head with a sigh, turning a corner and moving back to the station. Maybe there he'd be.. Safe. |
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Quinn Gensin ~Timeskip~
Quinn groaned as he collapsed face-first onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. His arms sprawled out over the sheets, fingers curling slightly into the fabric. The day had already drained him—he’d had his morning coffee, successfully annoyed König, and now all he wanted was a nap. But, of course, the universe had other plans. The city outside was alive, a cacophony of noise streaming through his thin apartment walls. Honking cars, distant shouts, the occasional bark of a stray dog, and the rhythmic pounding of someone’s music upstairs blended into an unrelenting soundtrack that made rest impossible. Quinn clenched his eyes shut, willing the chaos away, but it was no use. With a groan of defeat, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The paint was cracked in the corner near the window—a detail he’d never noticed before. Funny, considering how often he found himself lying here, avoiding responsibilities. He let out a long sigh before pushing himself upright, his hands dragging down his face. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well do something productive—not that he was particularly motivated. He reached for his bag, pulling out his laptop with sluggish movements. The familiar weight of it settled on his lap as he scooted his chair closer to his desk. A few loose papers slid off the surface, fluttering to the floor, but he ignored them. He plugged in his laptop, powered up his monitor, and slumped back in his chair, rubbing his eyes as the screen cast a pale glow over his face. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he clicked open his messages. The chat with Lee and Stace sat there, untouched, the cursor blinking in an empty text box. He thought about saying something, maybe tossing in a sarcastic comment about his thoughts, but the words wouldn’t come. After a moment of hesitation, he closed the chat and switched to another thread-- his messages with König. Quinn chewed on his tongue, staring at the conversation, rereading their most recent messages. Should he stop messaging him for a while? Maybe stop messaging? Distancing so he didn't realize it was him he had seen? That would probably be the mature thing to do. But the thought of pulling away made something in his chest squirm. He sighed, tilting his head back dramatically as if the weight of his decision was physically crushing him. Yeah. No. Screw that. He wasn’t going to give up on König that easily. He’d just act normal, pretend nothing had changed. Decision made, he clicked off his monitor. His fingers tapped absently against the wooden surface as his gaze flickered toward his reflection in the darkened computer screen. Pushing himself to his feet, he peeled off his shirt and stretched, his muscles stiff from being hunched over all morning. He wandered into the bathroom, flicking the light on with a lazy swipe of his hand. The small space was cluttered—his toothbrush resting precariously on the edge of the sink, an empty tube of toothpaste crumpled beside it, and a collection of half-used skincare products shoved into the corners of the counter. Crouching down, he pulled open the cabinet beneath the sink and started rummaging through the mess of bottles and containers. His fingers brushed against an old can of shaving cream, a nearly empty bottle of mouthwash, and a pack of extra toothbrush heads before finally landing on what he was looking for—his hair dye remover. He pulled it out and set it on the counter with a soft thud, then resumed his search for his designated dye towel. It took longer than expected to find. He shoved aside a few mismatched towels, an unopened pack of cotton swabs, and—why did he even have a bottle of hotel shampoo in here?—before finally pulling out the familiar dark-stained fabric of his "dye towel." He shook it out and wrapped it around his shoulders, securing it loosely as he met his own gaze in the mirror. The sight made him pause. He lifted a hand to his hair, running his fingers through the strands. The orange had been fun, a little reckless, a little loud—kind of like him. He’d liked the way it stood out, the way it caught the light in certain angles. But it was time for a change. “Guess I’ll be stuck with black hair for a while,” he muttered to himself, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Still… he was going to miss the orange. (Hello! I am very sorry I was gone for so long. Things happened and my mental health crashed so I had to take a break from HEE and roleplaying and everything. I am back for now and would like to try and start this up again. If you want to move on, I totally understand and don't mind at all. Just PM me if you do or don't.) |
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Konig Rahka +++ The lean, muscular man lay face up in his small bed, arm dangling over one side, hand on his chest, boots still on, staring at the ceiling. He had just gotten back from work, 3 hours late, as his boss had given him quite the array of extra work. An hour ago, maybe two, he had been in a terrible mood, but at the moment, he was too tired to summon up anger. He had been up early this morning for a run, earlier than normal, and he hadn't really slept the night before. All in all, it had been a bad day. His vision was blurry, but he wasn't really focused on anything, so what could he expect. Letting his eyes drift shut, he blew out a long, low breath, tense muscles relaxing just slightly. After a couple long moments, he felt himself slowly slipping away, and instead of getting up to take off his boots or change out of his work clothes or eat... he let himself fall asleep. Konig awoke to a bang. Or a boom? A loud noise of some sort. His head immediately jerked up and hand went to the holster still on his belt, gun inside. After a minute, with no more noise, he stood slowly and stalked around his small house that he had just gotten maybe a month or two ago. Nothing. It had been days since he cleaned, which was unusual... he could be a bit of a neat freak. Frowning slightly, he straightened and glanced out the window. What he saw set him on edge. There was an unfamiliar black car parked outside his neighbors home, and ... Konig tensed and clenched his jaw as he saw that the back door to his neighbors house was swinging open, the handle broken. He immediately moved silently out of his house, not stopping to think. Drawing his gun, he held it at the ready and approached the door, glancing inside. Nothing. He crept into the unfamiliar home, flinching as a crash came from what he assumed was the living room, then a voice. An angry one. His grip tightened on his gun and he licked his lips, moving forward until he was around the corner. Konig blew out a silent breath and paused, listening. The voice, again, loud and clear. "If you don't give me my flipping money I'm gonna put a bullet through your skull!" Next, a gunshot and a scream, then quiet sobs. He knew he had to move now. He reeled around the corner, gun held up, and pointed it at the attacker. They swung their gun to point it at him. "This is the police. Drop your weapon immediately." He commanded with a glare, dark eyes sparkling dangerously. The attacker seemed to make a split second decision, and Konig saw them start to swing their gun towards a person laying on the floor. He leaped that way just as a shot rang out. Pain ripped through his thigh and he tumbled against the ground, slamming into the wall with a snarl of agony. His vision went cross-eyed but he jerked his gun up immediately and loosed 4 rounds into the assailants chest before they had time to move. They crumpled to the ground, gun falling against the floor. Shocked, but snapping out of their stupor, the woman on the floor scrambled up, blabbering something Konig didn't hear and rushing to go get a phone. That's what he thought, anyway. Everything grew rather dim as blood roared through his ears. He pushed himself upright and touched his pant leg, already soaked in blood, the tear in it visible. "He SHOT me." He hissed under his breath. A sudden wave of dizziness slammed into him and he sank back against the wall, just before the world went black. Konig awoke in a hospital room, dim lights shining through his eyelids. He heard a voice- one he knew. He forced his eyes to open as gently throbbing pain started to pulse through his leg, squinting slightly against the light. His boss stood there, next to a comrade, talking to a nurse. Clearing his throat, he lifted a hand to rub his temple. "Why are you here?" His voice came out more gravelly than normal, but he didn't care. His captain, Jackson, turned and looked at him with a half frown half relieved look. "Good. You're awake. I would hate to lose my best detective. It was mighty reckless what you did." They said sternly. Konig's eyes narrowed. "Someone was in danger. It was my job to help them." He stated lowly, voice coming out as a growl. He felt irritation towards Jackson... of course the guy didn't give a flying tadpole that he was hurt, just that he could go back to work. He scowled slightly. "When will I get out of here?" He directed the next question at the nurse. She turned towards him, glancing at a notepad. "Ah, well Mr. Rakha, the bullet tore through quite a bit of muscle. Even if you could stand, it would hurt like the dickens to walk. On that note, if you recover well, the hospital will release you in two days time, but you will not be allowed to go back to your job for 2 weeks minimum." She stated evenly. ×Two weeks!× Konig thought, despair threatening to overrun the pain. He couldn't be out of the field for two weeks- he'd die of boredom. "Oh, and it'll just be a desk job. You aren't allowed to go back in the field for at least a month." The nurse added before leaving. His boss waved a hand. "For these two weeks, you will be on paid leave. Don't worry about anything. Focus on healing." The next thing he knew, the room was empty and he was alone with his depressing thoughts. The only small comfort he could think of was the fact he would, indeed, have contact with one person. Contact through computer, but still contact, nevertheless. His stalker, putting it nicely. - (It did not end up being as short as I thought and now I'm late xD) |
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Quinn Gensin
Quinn watched himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side, examining the black air that now fell against his forehead. He didn't like it. Not one bit. He missed his orange hair, he missed the statement it gave. He looked bland again. But it was fine, it was all fine. He walked out of his bathroom, wiping his hands off on a towel. It had been a few days since he last messaged Konig. The 'not ignoring,' Konig hadn't gone the way he wanted, and it was killing him. Sitting down at his desk, he spun his chair around, flipping on his monitor to be hit with a torrent of messages. Not just messages, emails, and pictures. He blinked, then scowled, fumbling for his headphones quickly. He grabbed them, shoving them on over his ears and scowling. Stace? What? He clicked on the private message thread between him and her, squinting at his screen. Slvt: Look at this. It could be nothing, or it could be something. The message read, his eyebrow raised at the link she attached. Clicking on the blue letters, it brought him straight to a news blog, the headline catching his attention. Burglar breaks into home, one left dead. His lips pressed into a tight line. Guess he wasn't getting much else done today. Well, actually, that's not true. He would get something done if Stace hadn't found anything, otherwise, he'd be sitting here talking to her for his day. He closed out the news vlog, going to his email and clicking on Stacie's first email reading her findings over. Seems like the family had a camera system. Hm. He clicked through her emails in silent curiosity, occasionally marking something in notes. He noted that the police covered this case, though they closed it fairly soon. He pulled up Konig's messaging thread, moving his mouse and clicking on the textbox. He quickly typed in a message to him. Seems like you and your co-workers had a fun time last night, pookie. :3 He messaged before leaning back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment in thought. He and Stacy really shouldn't get too involved in this. But he wanted to know more. Wait no he doesn't. The last time he did that it did not end well. He rubbed the scar on his shoulder subconsciously. |
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Konig Rakha +++ Konig had been staring at the ceiling with ever increasing insanity swirling in his mind when he heard a low vibration. He immediately tensed, the sound making memories fly back to his head, mostly totally unrelated ones. Four years ago, shot twice, once in the shoulder, once in the stomach. 2 years ago, stabbed in the stomach. A year ago, shot in the calf, just about shattering his bone. Just now, shot in the thigh, ripped through enough muscle that he knew he wouldn't ever be able to walk without a limp. He closed his eyes, breathing shallowly as he tried to rid himself of the memories, but they just kept coming. Every time he had been seriously hurt, even going all the way back to when he had been first backhanded by his father. His nostrils flared and he snapped his eyes open, fists gripping the edges of the bed, knuckles turning white. Mere minutes later, though it felt like hours, they ebbed, leaving him all but gasping for air, as he realized he had been holding his breath. With a low groan, he remembered the vibration, shuddering slightly. His eyes flicked to a small table near the hospital bed, and he saw on it was his phone. Realization spread through his mind as he realized he had been messaged. Konig leaned forward, grabbing it off of the table. He pulled back and opened up the phone, eyebrows crinckling slightly. He then noticed the chat thread opened in the corner. He enlarged it and realized it was from Mr. Stalker. His head tilted slightly as he read the message, an almost wry smile flitting across his face. . You may want to look further into that burglary. . He typed, glad that at least his fingers weren't broken. For once. He put down the phone, leaning back with a sigh. It was going to be a long couple days, but he could probably get through it. He had done things like this before, the worst being the shattered bone. It took months to heal, but the doctors had managed a miracle in restoring it to its former glory. Exhaling slowly, he let his head drop back against the bed frame, lifting his hand to rub his shoulder with all the burn marks. Ah, if only life was easy. But no, he had been cursed. That was the simplest way to put it. |
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Quinn Gensin
Quinn glanced at his monitor, reading over the message and smirked. He leaned forward, fingers tapping over the keyboard quickly before pressing the enter key. Gasp! You're asking poor old me to help you! He messaged. His smile faded as he grabbed his mouse, his cursor flying against the screen, clicking off of the messages and to the email. Guess he was indeed looking further into this. I mean, why wouldn't he? Pookie asked him after all. Quinn stared at his screen, watching the video footage of the break in. Stace had compiled them in timed order, following the thief throughout the house. He had found out Konig had been the one to find the thief and had been shot in the thigh, ouch. He sighed, watching the footage, eyebrows furrowed. He just kept replaying it. Over and over. Something about this seemed so... weird. The woman on the couch, the man on the floor, the thief. Something seemed wrong. Very very wrong. But what could it be. He groaned, slumping forward and setting his forehead to the wood table. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling. Yes he knew something was wrong, but what was wrong. He didn't know. He sat up, clicking on the thread with Konig once again. Somethings wrong. He sent. Quinn's message contained no funny face or silly emoji, no nicknames either. Because Something was wrong. What was it that was wrong? Stace hadn't been able to find it, she told him. But she knew something was off too. But her girlfriend hadn't noticed anything. Why? Why hadn't she noticed anything, but Stacie and Quinn did? Fuckkkkk his head hurt. |
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Epic Blizzard ! Stock up on Supplies
