The Graffiti Wars

The Graffiti Wars Open

Despite their conflicts down the years, they've both had a single thing in common: their love for art. But the two gangs that color the streets of the New York undergrounds, may have to put aside their mutual passions when they cannot forgive and forget.

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Owner: reveries
Game Masters: reveries
Tags: art, fanfic, fight, gangs, graffiti, original, rivalry, romance, violence, war (Add Tags »)

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OOC Notes

Vincent 'The Heretic' Mornnis

Vincent stood on a remote rooftop that he knew was well within Hound "territory", but he cared little.

He took a long hit from a coke-laced cigarette and let it out in a long sigh as he smiled darkly at the outlined mural before him. He had come up here the night before and did a general 'sketch' of his newest masterpiece tonight, and he only hoped he would not be interrupted until he was finished.
He quickly finished the cigarette as his cheeks gently flushed as his heart rate kicked up a bit, but he was unconcerned, for a torrent of ideas for his coming creation were flooding into his mind. He pulled a bottle of water from his pack and down a good quarter of it, slapped his pentacle designed goggles over his eyes and pulled up his gas mask and made sure all was sealed, in place, and in working order.

After a few moments, Vincent was satisfied with his check and threw his bag of cans and other assorted gear to the wall and began rummaging through for his first choice of paint.



After a several long hours of work, three more cigarettes, two bottles of water, not mention some harsh language and at least thirteen plays of "Hate Me", by Five Finger Death Punch, Vincent finally stood back and looked at his creation.

To most it would be rather disturbing to look upon. Most of it was dark, various shades of blacks, reds, and blues, all intermingling to create a chilly atmosphere that the poor lighting in the area enhanced. Out of the darkness of the far right corner came a creature from a Lovecraftian nightmare. Tentacles and claws sprang out of a central, serpentine eye that glowed a horrid red, while the main body was obscured by darkness, shadow, and clouds splintered with lightning.
They beast reached from it's position towards a lovely, solitary women that was a shining beacon of white in the gloom. Her dress blew in some unseen breeze as the tentacles drew around her, but she was safe in that frozen moment, for standing just before her was a man, a demon, horns rising from his head as his hand extended, fire dancing across his fingers.
But the last part, most might not notice at first, was the octopi creature slinking out of the shadow behind the woman, it's own appendages sliding towards her legs and the hem of her skirt while their attention was focused on the larger beast.

"What do you think Felicity?", Vincent asked in a deep, raspy voice as he addressed the darkness and scanned over his mural. "Do you like it...?"

His sprayed his signature at the bottom in red, "The Heretic", and stepped back, gathering his supplies as he nodded too himself.

"Of course you do...thank you....you were always my best critic and saw what I was going for in my designs."

He looked up, seeing the sun cresting the horizon and was rather disappointed the Hounds hadn't noticed him working and come to investigate. It matter little in the long run however, so he grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder as he took off at a brisk jog to the other side of the roof, tightening the red bag around his body before leaping over the edge, his hand snapping out and grabbing the ladder's rail before sliding down it to the fire escape.
He quickly ran down the metal steps, the roar of clanging metal filled the alley every time his boots hit home, but he cared not, his music blared in his ears, the chemicals ran through his veins, and his newest addition to this wretched city was there for those who cared to look to see.

A short while later, Vincent was still jogging, his inexhaustible stamina coupled with the coke made him feel all but unstoppable, but stop he did, for as he pulled his head phones off, bent his head and lit a cigarette he noticed an out of the ordinary song reach his ears.

Was it German?

Perhaps. Certainly not Russian or anything like that.

He didn't have time to finish his thoughts as he collided with the owner of the voice, his attention having been on his thoughts and of trying to light a cigarette while running.