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

As he collided with the shorter girl, the strap on Vincent's duffel bag snapped and his sudden, jarring stop sent his gear and supplies skidding off into the street and were promptly run over by a passing taxi. Cans exploded and he could almost hear his brushes and other assorted items snapping and breaking as a mist of discharged paint flew around the crumpled bag.

This did not please Vincent and it was everything he do not to turn and roar his anger at whatever he had bumped into.

Vincent turned, all but tearing the goggles and mask from his head in anger and revealing a rather handsome, if furious, face with side burns running down to his ears, which were pierced, and a well trimmed goatee. The most noticeable part of him, however, was his green eyes. It was hard to place, but there was something in their facets that made them seem almost hypnotic, even with their currently angry stare.
The words and arguments his mind was forming died on his lips as Vincent took in the woman before him's appearance. For a moment he thought she looked like Felicity, and then his mind cleared of the haze and anger and he knew it was a simple dream.

He stood to his full height, which was increased by his heavy combat boots and eyed her up and down for a moment as his slid his goggles back around his forehead and replied, "Nein.... Denke Dir nichts dabei.", his accent wasn't the greatest, but his rather raspy voice didn't help much, but held a certain charm that had been nearly forgotten.

"The fault is mine, I shouldn't have been mindlessly running and trying to light a...", he said, trailing off as he realized his cigarette was gone. He fished around in his pockets for a moment and found another and lit it up while irritatedly kicking a ruined spray can that rolled towards him.

He slightly recognized the young woman before him, she had been around his gangs' territory here and there, he may have seen a bit of her work, but his mind was moving a mile a minute and couldn't rightly recall, and any memories of it he may have had were overshadowed as he glanced across the street. His eyes narrowed slightly, instantly recognizing Yuna. She was rather reluctant to fully swear her allegiance one way or the other, but she was formally a Depictioner like him. What truly shocked him though was the man at her side.
He had done as much recon and the like to know who the man next to her was, and he came closer to guessing where her loyalty lay.

He took a protective step towards the German woman as his right hand drifted to his belt, upon which was holstered a cleverly hidden .45 handgun.

"My apologies again Miss...but stay behind me if things go south...", he whispered to the woman before shouting across the street, "Lovely Morning Yuna! Who might your friend be?"