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Snippet #2725509

located in London, 1950., a part of This Dirty Old Town., one of the many universes on RPG.

London, 1950.



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stephen Hampton Character Portrait: Henry Earle
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For Henry, a walk back from the family distillery was usually a joyful occasion. The sweet smell of whiskey aging gracefully in the finest wooden barrels was the equivalent of fresh backed cookies to the youngest Earle. A happy day soon turned to dread as Henry walked by a dark alley. It was a sunny day in London, but sudden corners can be shroud in shadows. Arms reached out and grabbed him! His mouth was covered before he could let out any noise. A punch to his stomach and face caused him to lose his breathe. His eyes couldn't identify his attackers due to the bandanas covering their mouths. While Henry is in prime physical condition, fighting was never a strength of his. His father was always disappointed by that fact.

"You need to keep your nose out of things, kid." Ah... Henry was investigating a possible forced prostitution ring by a large, but unorganized, gang. He was getting close to finding the head of the group. Henry understood women who did what they had to to support their family, but forcing women to do that was not something Henry could ignore.

"I will not submit to you." A dangerous thing to say when clearly outnumbered, but Henry's father would rather him to lose badly than to give in. He would do anything to have his father see him as success.

One of the two men's fist connected with his right eye. Henry grinded his teeth, tensing up though it did nothing to ease the pain. The sound of a gun cocking made Henry begin too silently plea to any god that could be listening. The prayers must've been answered as the blows to his body ceased. Upon opening his eyes, the gods out there must have a flawed sense of humor. The stone cold face of Stephen Hampton was, almost, not scary any more. A worker for his father, the muscle seemed to be more like a babysitter for the baby of the Earle family. Whenever Henry was in a situation such as this one, Stephen appeared suddenly. Henry's attackers looked ready to run as Stephen's guns was held to both of their heads. Henry tried to meet Stephen's eyes.

"It's not worth it. Let them go." Unlike his father and brothers, Henry has no blood on his hands. IT still made him innocent, something he despised about himself. The terrifying man before him was considered the devil by his enemies. A sudden grin crossed his bruised face, a picture example of a light bulb going off in his head.