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The Graffiti Wars: The Beginnings

New York City - New York

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a part of The Graffiti Wars: The Beginnings, by reveries.

None

reveries holds sovereignty over New York City - New York, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

248 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic84375.html

Setting

Default Location for The Graffiti Wars: The Beginnings
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New York City - New York is a part of The Graffiti Wars: The Beginnings.

7 Characters Here

Trinity Vargas [2] "My colors may be bright and "girly" in this damn dark, vicious world, but that means I must be gaining one's attention."
Kane Harrison [0] "I want it to STOP!"
Ayaki "Kaoru" Yamagata [0] Did you know that I could kill you with 73 items in this room? That includes the room itself by the way.
Jeremy Cyrway [0] "Shiit. I don't give a damn if you don't like my art, or if you just don't like art in general. But don't go around being ignorant, thinking that's there's only one way to create art."
Markus Finch [0] Well, at least this is fun.
Jeong-Yun "Yuna" Choi [0] "I'll carry a weapon, and I'll beat up anyone who messes with my stuff. But don't think for single moment that I'll fight for meaningless gains. That's not how I roll."
Abi Kirsch [0] I am not a killer. I am an artist. Killing is something that I would perfer not to be associated with.

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Jeong-Yun "Yuna" Choi

She shook the spray paint can that was held tight in her hands, and made the finally touches to the wall that she had now claimed, adding her almost barely noticeable signature "yuNA" at the bottom in white, the Korean American took a step back to look at her work. She had been working vigorously and with much enthusiasm, Yuna knew that this could be one of her greatest works yet. However, 'could' was being the keyword here.

She threw the empty can onto the ground when she had finished using up, ignoring the >clank< sound that it made behind her, not caring much if she had just littered the ground with it. She wasn't much of an environmental enthusiast after all.

Before the young, short Korean-American, was her latest work, as she looked over it. It was odd, like most of her works. A mural of bright colors, it could probably give people a migraine from the splash of red, yellow, orange, blue, green, white and black. Various shapes were sprayed, portrayed like a jelly-like substance, that reminded her of liquid mercury. Among the disarray images of weird shapes, was a single eye, that she had put much time into making as realistic as possible. Yuna took several steps back, as a lop-sided grin that could be confused for a smirk, made way to her face. Should one had step back, they'd see that the shapes made a face, a feminine one, the shapes making up the rest of her features and her long hair framing it, covering what would've been another eye.

She felt a feeling of pride pit in her stomach, but made a scowl as it didn't turn out the way she had hoped.
".. Hm, not much of what I had in mind." She murmured, disappointed with the outcome, her brows coming to a frown. She had been in a slump as of lately, and it showed in her murals.

Truly, it was disappointing. At the same time however, she resented the fact because of her ties to the Depictioners, that she had just claimed some more territory for the gang, rather than just freely expressing herself. Yuna scowled even further, and then began gathering her stuff, before some Po-po got sight of what she was doing. Paperwork and all that shit was too troublesome to try and do this legally at this time. Though, her lack of caring for it was probably why she had been scouted out by a Depictioner.

Yuna shoved her paints into a bag, and slung it over her shoulder, but deciding against it as it was heavy. She straightened out her white shirt that had many paint splatter marks, and dusted her old jeans. Dragging the bag behind her, she struggled to pick it up and walk a few feet, before dropping it in exhaustion. Over her shoulder, she knew that the sun would be up, and the sunrise will be appearing soon over the city.


Jeremy Cyrway

Jeremy would usually take walks in the early mornings, as his sleepless night when he does not drink are restless. With his hood up, and walking around for about an hour now, his bed had been forgotten and abandoned. The light was starting to peek in, and brightening the sky, now a grayish color. He wandered the alleyways, and whenever a person walked by, he gave a cold, frightening stare, that made them back off. He wasn't getting jacked. In fact, he never did. Few had to wonder why. Many knew the reason. Despite his hostile aura, he was just itching for a fight. But most of the people who came his way were scrawny, little guys, at least in his eyes, that weren't worth much of a fight, seeing as soon they caught his glare, they detoured to another path or walked the other way across the street.

Wandering some more, he looked over the familiar streets of the territory of which belonged to him. Boredom was quickly seeping in, and he began to change his route to go home. As he was about to go back to his apartment though, the sight of a figure trying to haul away a bag caught his attention when he passed by an alleyway from his position from the concrete sidewalk. Usually, he'd pay no heed, because it could've been some person throwing away a corpse, and he wouldn't really care. He'd walk away, and continue on with life, seeing as it didn't concern him nor interest him. But what got him to turn was the fact that he recognized the figure, and the wall that was only feet away, of a mural and style he would've recognized anywhere, despite the fact that it looked more like a Hound's today. Was that Yuna?

His thick brows pulled together in confused interest. The dirty blonde made his way towards her, and his suspicions were confirmed. In an somewhat awkward stance, he called out nevertheless. "..Hey."

She turned, and then greeted back, as he went over to pick up her bag effortlessly. In the far distance, he can see people already up and about, and then motioned her to start walking with him, quickly. It wasn't good for the two to be seen so carelessly. He already knew of her Depictioner status, though, he wasn't too sure if she knew about him. It was highly unlikely though.

In silence, they walked together, idly chatting away. Though, Jeremy knew that someone must've already saw them, and it worried him so. After all, his status came with heavy prices, and he didn't want anyone other than himself, especially not Yuna, to be paying them.

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Ayaki "Kaoru" Yamagata

Kaoru sighed as she walked the barely sunlit streets, hands shoved deep into pockets. The day before had been a bad one, she was stumped, stuck fast in a rut. With a thirst for inspiration she left her studio apartment and began to walk, she didn't really know where she was going at the time. But she honestly didn't care.

Kaoru wasn't wearing her usual classy clothes, she was wearing the clothes she would normally sleep in. But she didn't bother to change before leaving, because to most they would just look like casual clothes. Simple, well worn jeans and a blue flannel shirt, thongs adorning her feet. Her hair was a mess to, though it kept it's usual shape of long on one side and short on the other.

She paused at an alley way where she lit a cigarette. Koaru wouldn't usually smoke, but it sometimes helps her relax, to let her mind wonder. She shut her eyes and took a long drag, opening them again as she breathed slowly out. Once her vision focused again she couldn't help but notice something... odd.
"Did I accidentally buy weed rather than cigarettes?" She thought aloud as she watched her leader and that cute white officer from the Dipictioners walk together, chatting. "... He isn't betraying us is he?" She continued to wonder. But neither of her questions were answered.

Kaoru ran a hand though her hair, as she turned to leave. 'I'll have to talk to him about this later,' she thought, 'Hopefully he's just trying to get into her pants or info or something...'

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Character Portrait: Trinity Vargas
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#, as written by Jaybt9
Trinity "C.C." Vargas

A set of horns played aloud into a girl's ears, causing her to open her eyes and catch sight of a large artwork filled with iridescent letters and illustrations.

The Latina girl, named Trinity, planned on pulling an “all-nighter” as some would say, but sometime between 2:00AM and sunrise, she dozed off on the couch in the painting studio. Being an artist takes plenty of dedication, patience, and energy, as it seemed. Trinity took a quick yawn, stretching her arms and back to loosen any knots, or hear any pops and cracks. Her hair was in a disarrayed ponytail after shifting positions on the couch so much. She still wore the clothes she had on the night before: a black long-sleeved shirt, and light gray sweatpants covered in various colors of paint. The windows were still open so the fumes from her spray cans could escape the room.

The Latin rhythmic sounds of Joe Bataan playing in the background set the scene for the studio. “Gypsy Woman” was a song that Trinity truly admired, as well as admiring the musician because of how much his life compared to hers; living in a neighborhood of hardship and struggle with nothing but gangs surrounding every corner. The use of the arts was his way to escape from the neck of the woods into a better lifestyle, which Trinity plans on achieving for her family.

Trinity stood up from the couch, admiring her cool-colored canvas. “Serenidad” she called it. Wanting to display this sense of “serenity” a large butterfly blending into the splatters of rich violet and blue hues. This was something that she had never done before, but the meaning of the artwork she had on her mind ever since she was born.

While it was unfinished, Trinity was relieved enough to work on it since her Spring semester had ended, and she was finally on Summer Break. School was interesting to say the least, and it somewhat distracted with her art, so this was like her therapy, but for today, she was needed some breakfast, and knew exactly where to go.

She opened up her backpack revealing a change of clothes. A more “settling attire”: a deep blue trapeze tanktop, white summer shorts, and blue Nike tennis shoes to display some sort of color coordination.

After letting her hair down, and putting on some lip gloss, she closed the windows, turned off her radio, as well as the lights in the studio, and made her exit from the building into the New York cityscape. Walking a few corners from the building lead to the entrance of a subway station. Practically living in New York has benefited her into knowing the locations and destinations around the city by subway.

With Trinity's headphones relaxed around her ears, Joe Bataan still played in her head as she strolled down the stairway to the underground station. The pedestrians were at full storm this morning, so slithering around the crowd wasn't as effective as it usually was, but she still managed to make it closer to the front before the train could arrive. All she had to do was wait.

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Kane walked down the street, carrying his baseball bat in his right hand and a burlap bag in the his left. If one looked closely in the bag, they would see a few cans of spray paint, a pack or two of chalk, a few small bottles of tempara paint, small box of about 5 pastels, a bottle of water, and a few paintbrushes of varying in size. and what seemed to be a small folded piece of paper. Noticing the sun starting to rise as the peaceful streets become a little busier, he started to run. He did this because he knew he needed to get to that nice blank wall soon. If he didn't someone else might take it up or, while he was doing his art, someone would see and call the cops. And after last time, that was not an experience he wanted to repeat. So, as he reached the wall, his heart sank. He saw two pieces of art. Well, one, and then something else no one would ever want to see. He saw a bright mural with a variety of colors and a spray can in the corner. This was fresh. He didn't mind too much, but then he saw the ugly thing a few yards away, also scrawled on the wall. It was an ugly black spray paint signature of some stupid gang or other. He hated things like this, he almost wanted to paint over it but was a tad worried. He knew this gang happened to be pretty big, and he didn't want to give the m a bone to pick. So, he settled for the small space between the two works, and with a bottle of red, he dipped a paintbrush in and wrote one word in slow block letters. "OR." Having a moment of whimsy, he wrote more "Or" arranging them into a pattern so the, when looked at from afar, one would see an oar, like he had once used at a summer camp to steer a canoe. The "Or"s got thicker at the bottom and thinner at the top, looking as an oar should look. There were a few flat stones nearby he used as a stepping stool. After this was done, he took a bottle of dark blue and wrote a small border of "or"s around it and created a small border. The border was made so that it looked like a line; the "or"s on the side pointed toward the main oar, so the border was thinner then if the "or"s were pointed downwards. Please with his work, he walked away quickly after packing up his materials and carefully washing his paintbrushes with a bottle of water.

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Abi Kirsh

Abi dawdled. it was morning. Morning meant sleep crusted eyes and a belly filled with the smog of sleep. Her hands shook slightly as she stretched for the third time, pausing to fully arc her back. It was early yet, and the German had things to do, but not much motivation on this particular morn. She'd just finished a project and now was the time to muse and find a good place to create the next one. And to decide what to create. Of late the ideas simply hadn't flown right through her. Even when she'd found the perfect spot no images or even the faintest inkling of a perfect idea sprung to her mind. Which was rather depressing.

To the mirror it was then, rubbing her face and blinking away the sticky ugly dregs of sleep that grabbed at her eyelids and her head, weighing her down, teasing and tempting her back into sleep. But the girl resisted the allure. She leaned against the little vanity in her even small her bedroom and leaned close to the glass. She didn't look horrid, but not very good either. First was to flatten her hair and clean out her eyes. A topical check then to the shower. And back again to the beloved mirror. She paired hr face sparingly, for there wasn't need for anything heavy. Just a dab of this here and a smear of that there. And a new stud. The small diamond one perhaps? Leaning back to check her work, the red-golden girl found her handy-work acceptable. At least make-up didn't take too much inspiration. more skill and finesse than anything, really.

Then to get properly dressed in a capped-shoulder T-shirt and jeans. She grabbed a bagel and a bottle of water. It was time to hunt down a new place to paint. A jacket, something light, was pulled onto her shoulders and a smile and a sigh radiated from Abi's being as she exited her apartment. The bagel went into her pocket. She'd eat that when she was hungry, but she was too lost in her thoughts to feel hungry at the moment. why waste food when it was not needed? She walked a few blocks before deciding to break into a light jog, getting more into the rhythm of her feet and of the world around her than looking for a suitable place to paint now. Sometimes running was thought clearing. Sometimes it could open her mind for more creative images. Hopefully it would. The woman sang lightly to herself in lilting German as she jogged, too quiet for anyone else to catch the words.

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Markus Finch

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

One blue eye fluttered open. It found a large green eye starting back at it. Markus jerked up, knocking Margo from his chest. "Ai, Margo, don't stare at me like that. It makes me feel like you're trying to eat my soul." The man shook himself, jerking sleep from the very core of his body. What time was it?

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

And what was that sound? Blinking the sweet film of sleep from his eyes, Markus searched the tiny table next to the couch for his phone. And knocked it off. The black chunk of wired metal thunked on the floor, almost blending in with the dark carpet. The carpet he'd managed to turn black. It hadn't come that way. The original color had been a ugly brown, but Mark found it easier to hide a mess when the carpet was darker. Well, unless it was a light colored mess. But black cat equaled black fur, so black carpet was the next logical step. Mark shot a look at Margo, who was staring back at him from her new spot on his knees. "Hey, Margo. Fetch." He said. He could almost see her eyebrow raise. I don't think so. her entire expression told him.

Ah, felines. They never did anything to make themselves worth keeping, but Markus couldn't help but love the slender pitch cat. She flicked her tail at him and blinked slowly. Mark rolled his eyes and sighed. Well then. He stretched down to get his phone, and the slight animal leaped from his lap onto the floor, stalking away as the man overbalanced at the sudden loss of ten pounds from his knees and joined his phone on the floor. "Damn you, Margo. You did that on purpose!" He called after the retreating tail. "For that I'm not gonna feed you until lunchtime, so there!" A slight smile lifted his face however. Ah, it was rather sad to say, but the cat was his favorite companion in the world. And she seemed to like him alright as well.

Mark flipped open his phone, the old piece of junk that it was, and found it to be much later that he would have liked. How long had the alarm been going off? He rubbed his eyes, stretching and standing up lazily. Mornings weren't the best time of day for him. Too sleepy. The man pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans, grabbed a soda from his little fridge, and collected his bag of tools. His hand jumped slightly as he did so, but he gave it a stern look. It seemingly cowed under his stern blue gaze, and didn't continue to shake.

He poured the golden carbonated liquid down his throat and then he was ready to go.

Margo stretched on his leg, her paws reaching the pocket of his jeans. Trying to distract him, eh? She gave a curling mewl of question, but Mark brushed her off. "I'll play with you later, Mar, but right now I have other things to do. Don't open anything, don't eat the drapes, got it?" He told her, giving his friend and ear scratched before relocating her to the couch.

Then he exited the room, shuffled down the stairs, and out the door. Perhaps there would be a good place across town. There surely weren't any near his place anymore. Markus had made sure of that. of course, he couldn't stop others from taking spots there too, but so long as they were Hounds it didn't matter.

Languidly he strolled to the subway station, ignoring the people who moved around him in one big crush and flow of human. he let out a half sigh as he found himself a spot to stand. Usually cold disregard worked best for getting other people out of his way. He managed to emerge near the front of the crowd with a little jostling. Okay, maybe a more than a bit, but it was worth it, no?

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Jeong-Yun "Yuna" Choi

Yuna pulled up her hoodie, making sure that her appearance was discreet as she begun to notice just how quickly everyone was waking up. They were to appear just as two normal walking people, not as an normal individual and a member of one of the biggest underground gangs involved with art in all of New York's history, as rich as it was. It was bad for her to be seen with him, enemies get the wrong idea and shoot at all associates involved with opposing forces, and she would know. The memory to when the time she was still a plank, of the little boy beside her when she got into a nasty fight, whom had been shot by some small time gang who retreated afterwards when hearing a siren. It still sent shudders down her spine. She reassured her companion when he had noticed and commented. "It's nothing."

One day, she'd have to tell him about these gang issues.. perhaps when they turn old. Now, would be too difficult. Yuna was never one for drama, despite how much it made her a hypocrite. Being in an organization like the Depictioners just screamed problems to be developed, which led to drama. And considering her role as a White Officer, dealing with the government with so much issues brought up by her fellow trouble magnet members, it seemed even more twisted. She shook her head to let the train disappear into whatever corners of her mind.

"Let's go to that downtown cafe. I'm in the mood for caffeine." She nonchalantly suggested, glancing towards him. "We can take the sub."

Jeremy Cyrway

As they were walking, he scanned the area for anyone. The city of New York was waking up quickly. Garbage trucks were already up and at 'em, cars were being started and being driven on the one the way street, pedestrians begun to populate the streets. He shifted their route, continuing to speak in quiet chatter, and kept her bag close to his person, as they maneuvered through the streets. Yuna had decided to hide her face, head sort of low. He felt somewhat thankful for her quick thinking, seeing as it would appear suspicious for her to hide herself when she didn't know that he was a Hound, or that he knew about her Depictioners' status.

He became quiet when she suddenly became quiet, her face indicating her deep take into thought as most as he could tell, tilting his head slightly to see. When he asked in concern, she shrugged it off, assuring that it was nothing to ponder too much on. But he kept silent as she plunged herself into more depts of thought, and waited for her to snap back to reality. Jeremy smiled a little when she mentioned the small cafe they went to sometimes, and followed behind her closely as they changed their route to onwards of their destination.

A sudden thought took him for several moments, and as they walked, he took out his cell. There was to be some meeting with all members for a mass graffiti all over the city, to take over some territories. They had to show the Depictioners just who owned this city. He only rather'd that they didn't take in too much violence. Brawling for the shits of it is alright, but if it was to be over their art, man, he'd not be bothered.
[ Hey. Delver's home. Mine. 5. Be there. Sharp. ]

He made it vague, should there be any futures of him being being captured or so by some troublesome police, and they try to charge him for 'vandalism' or what shit not. 'Delver's home' was usual code for his place, just so to tip off any eyes that tried to get his phone. He put it back in his pocket, as Yuna urged him to "hurry the hell up". Jeremy would look forward to seeing all the members in one place.

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Ayaki "Kaoru" Yamagata

Kaoru had already moved far from the scene with her boss and the Depictioner White Officer, she was used to moving fast just in case police were around. They suspected that she was part of one of these gangs and they also suspected that she was a Black Officer, seeing as the same signature she used in her paintings showed up at crime scenes every now and again. Though they had no real proof it was her. It was then her phone vibrated in her pocket. She flipped open the lid with a small frown,
[ Hey. Delver's home. Mine. 5. Be there. Sharp. ] it read.

Kaoru huffed, now she had to go home and get changed into her usual attire before heading to the meeting... Which happened to be in the opposite direction to her house.
"Always makin' my life difficult, eh boss?" she mumbled to herself, pace quickening. She also had a deadline to meet for her next 'comic' at 3. So she would have to do a massive circle around the city to get everything done. But she knew she would be on time, she always was.

As an after thought she sent a text back, smirking to herself.
[You gonna score that DP chick? Boss?]
DP being her usual slang for a Dipictioner. Letting Jeremy know it was her because she changed phones often, so no one ever had her number.
[Also, be more discrete next time... Someone might get the wrong idea...] She added a few moments later, as sort of vague a warning.

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#, as written by Jaybt9
Trinity "C.C." Vargas

The sound of wheels rowing on the tracks made notice to Trinity's ears, gradually raising higher in volume. The anticipation that the pedestrians around her were having, waiting for the subway train to appear from the tunnel. Trinity could feel the expression of impatience from them. Many were already beginning to clinch their belongings and sneak their way to the front, nearest to the subway board. Even some tried to push, but they were failing to make any impact from it as they were pushed right back.

While the sound of the wheels erupted to a higher volume, Trinity could hear the brakes sounding off like nails on a chalkboard. That was one thing that she disliked about the subway. Hearing that sound used to haunt her as a child, because it was so screechy and earsplitting. Eventually, she learned to overcome that fear, because she knew that she would have to take the subway dozens of times. Three or four times a day, to say the least.

The louder the brakes were, the more the pedestrians began to thrust. Clearly their impatience was beginning to develop into an extreme since of arrogance, and once the subway appeared from the tunnel, beginning to make a stop, Trinity felt that all hell was about to break loose in that subway station. The metal doors expanding away from each other.

Trinity tried to make her way in, but she kept getting pushed by nearly every man and woman. Thankfully she was able to make it in before they could close on her. She went for a seat closest to the door, next to an older man and two businessmen. As she sat down, she unzipped her backpack after placing it on the ground, and dug through the rubble for one thing only: her favorite snack of the day, bubble gum. Cotton Candy bubble gum, to be specific. Just chewing bubble gum set her in a restful mood, especially with this busy crowd surrounding her like smoke.

With her legs crossed, she proceeded to wait for the doors to close.