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Amelia Spiers

Grass, Screw, Runner, Thief, Junkie- Call me what you will. Won't be laughing for long.

0 · 197 views · located in Wing City Town Square

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by oldtimereminiscence

Description

Yeah. Yeah I know that. What's it to you?

Naahhh, don't give me that. Ain't born yesterday, y'know? You're askin', so it's worth. Pay up, I'll tell yah plenty. It's good, baby, Tesla's always got the goods for the price.

Oh her? Yeah. I know where she's at. Take you there, too. All you gotta do is pay the girl. Somethin' makes me feel shiney, sexy. You know you can do it.

Mmm. That's the pure stuff. Pure stuff, pure info. Come on, big man, I'll show you where she's at. Anythin' for a price.

So begins...

Amelia Spiers's Story

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
There was a knack to walking like you didn't care where you ended up. A stumble here or there, fingers wrapped in half-discintegrated woolen gloves reaching into one trash can, fishing after one particularly likely looking morsel. Discarded, though. Even Lia wasn't that hungry.

But then again, it wasn't hard to spot one of Them, either. Didn't matter what colour, what band on their arm, badge on their... badge... All the same underneath. Watchful eyes. Good quality shoes. Always the shoes. Mother had told her.

Cracked lips purse beneath the dirty fabric of the jacket, amusement. Momma had always been right. Well, until the point old Bobby had seen to it she wasn't right. Silly cow.

She makes her way, shuffling and stumbling, to the can beside the bench with the.. She casts a look out of the corner of her eye, before dismissing the notion. Like she cared.

"Looks like a man whose lookin'." She could have been talking to the trash for all that she moves, dark, dirty nails scratching through old cigarette ends and discarded coffee cups even as the words leave her mouth.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
There was a knack to walking like you didn't care where you ended up. A stumble here or there, fingers wrapped in half-discintegrated woolen gloves reaching into one trash can, fishing after one particularly likely looking morsel. Discarded, though. Even Lia wasn't that hungry.

But then again, it wasn't hard to spot one of Them, either. Didn't matter what colour, what band on their arm, badge on their... badge... All the same underneath. Watchful eyes. Good quality shoes. Always the shoes. Mother had told her.

Cracked lips purse beneath the dirty fabric of the jacket, amusement. Momma had always been right. Well, until the point old Bobby had seen to it she wasn't right. Silly cow.

She makes her way, shuffling and stumbling, to the can beside the bench with the.. She casts a look out of the corner of her eye, before dismissing the notion. Like she cared.

"Looks like a man whose lookin'." She could have been talking to the trash for all that she moves, dark, dirty nails scratching through old cigarette ends and discarded coffee cups even as the words leave her mouth.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"I'm not the only one looking," stated McLoughlan. He had spotted the girl out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to pry into her business but she spoke and he replied. McLoughlan turned his head to study her closer. A prickle ran up the back of his neck. It made his left eyebrow arch quizzically.

"Do you like coffee?" asked McLoughlan. He held the insulated paper cup out to her. It was still warm but not hot.

"I haven't drank from it. I promise," he said to her. The coffee was really there just to keep him company.

The girl looked like a drug addict. There were too many to count in Wing City. All those intergalatic foreign visitors brought their space drugs to the city and ruined hundreds of thousands of lives. He could be wrong. She could have just been one of the homeless.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
"Can mosey right along, if you're not." She replies, shoulders shrugging somewhere beneath countless layers of ill-fitting, hole-baring cloth. At the offer of coffee her head turns almost of its own accord, and she takes it from his hand with barely a word.

It takes a few long moments, the cup cradles to her face, eyes half-closed as she inhales the scent of warm brewed caffine. Eventually it would tilt, sending the dark liquid towards eager lips. Only when she'd had enough to warm her tongue, to feel the slither of heat down her throat and into the pit of her belly, does she appear to notice the stranger.

As though she would forget. But they would think that, wouldn't they?

"Doesn't buy you much, coffee." She tells him, dubiously. "Maybe buys you some though. Cha' lookin' for?" She glances around the paths, the strangers who hustle by. No time for one of her kind. No time for her. Suits her. She saw them and their sordid secrets. Everything had a price... everything.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan was having a hard time deciphering what the girl was trying to say. Maybe his first judgment of her being an addict was more correct than he wanted to believe. He turned on the bench to face her for forwardly.

"That depends on what you have on you," McLoughlan said. "What can you offer right here and now?" He crossed his arms across his chest. There was a mustard stain on his red tie and his white shirt was wrinkled from McLoughlan rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

The detective assumed that she'd rummage through her pockets and pull out morphine, heroine, or meth out from beneath some layers of her rags. If she did he was going to arrest her. It was simple as that. He was a cop. It was his job.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
She looks at him, her expression covered more with cynisim and disbelief than it was the dirt that caked her flesh.

"Bastard Cop Shop. Give something for nothing. Nothing free!" She spits to one side, careful to avoid his shoes but only slightly. She was, after all, irritated, not insane.

"What does you know, eh? Spill it like that? Not how it works, sweetcake." She looks at him them, up and down as though he has just crawled from the most dense, foul sewer beneath the City. "He tells her what he needs to know. She tells him what she knows. Or finds it." She sniffed, raising her free hand to wipe harshly at her nose as she does so. "Findin's extra."

She turns her attention back to the coffee, at least, she appears to. She's met all sorts. Shiney badges, shiney shoes... shiney even as they swung towards her face. Not fast enough. Or too fast. Saw too much. Everyone has a price, she knows that. Not stupid. Never stupid.

"So. Sat out here. On his own. Good the look. So what is it?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"Ah, an information trader," McLoughlan said. He rubbed his jaw and his dark eyes narrowed at the girl. The prickle at the back of his neck wasn't going away. McLoughlan looked up toward the sky with an inquiry in his stare. There came no answer. The Man Upstairs was as quiet as he always had been. The detective sighed through his nostrils.

"What is your name?" asked McLoughlan. He doubted that she would answer or even answer with her true name. Information traders were not keen on giving out their identities. For all he knew her entire appearance was just a front to keep herself safe. McLoughlan tipped up the brim of his fedora.

The damn thing was cliche but it looked good on McLoughlan.

"I'm detective McLoughlan," he offered.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
At his question, Lia looks down at the dark coffee, feeling the vapours still rising to meet her nose as she cradles it close to her face. It was small payment, sure, but then it was a small thing he asked.

"Lia." She tells him, a simple enough answer and true enough to be worth the few notes he'd spent on the damnable caffine he'd so readily given up for her. She tilts the cup towards him in a simple, quiet gesture. "It's paid, that." She sniffs again, and rubs more aggressivly at the nose that appeared to be intent upon ruining the first hot beverage that she'd had in... how long? Too long.

Mind's wandering. Back to it. Stay sharp, that's what momma said. May the stupid cow rest in some piece. Maybe pieces. He had been angry, had old Bobby.

Focus!

"McLoughlan" she echoes, her lips twisting around the word before she wrinkles her nose at it. "Mouthful. Chuckles." She grins to herself at that. He did appear to be a man in sore need of amusement. Clever, Lia, she congratulates herself. Clever.

"Didn't come here for a name though. I knows that."

She sniffed again, glancing towards the others side. "Ahn Whoospie Ladies're that way. So. Cha want, Chuckles?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan placed his hands on his knees and stood up. There was no creak in his bones or soreness in his muscles. And yet, McLoughlan still felt his age. He bit back a groan of exhaustion.

"I don't want anything from you, Lia. You have a nice name. Do you need money for food?" McLoughlan asked. When he turned to her a strange event occurred. The white clouds parted in the sky and it almost seemed like a ray of light was illuminating McLoughlan. He radiated warmth and comfort.

A light glimmered above his head and then it was gone. The event lasted a single second.

McLoughlan seemed to not notice as he took out his bill fold from his back pocket. He rifled through a few bills and debated on which to give to Lia.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
At his assertion that he didn't want anything from her, Lia's expression moved from cynical to outright suspicious. Lips, previously warmed to a rosy pink by the coffee, become a tight, compressed line.

"Don't owe none of you nothing." She snaps back, slamming back the remainder of the bitter liquid in one shot, casting the cup into the garbage, and ramming her hands deeply in the pocket of the black-turned-brown-turned-grey-turned...what-the-hell-*is*-that? coat that did it's best to protect her from the elements.

She sees, but does not comprehend the lightplay that falls forth from the clouds, and illumination or not, she's known enough coppers that will drop you in all the trouble in the world if they own you.

Something for free. Thats the start of it. Tricksey.

"Don't want your money for nothin'."

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"Very well then," McLoughlan said to Lia. "If you don't want my money then I won't give any to you. Not for free at least. Do you clean? Cook?" There was a high possibility that Lia didn't know how to do either. She didn't seem like the type. The question was worth asking anyway. McLoughlan was understanding of Lia and her need to earn her pay. He was the same way. Morals held up fast in some individuals no matter what state they were in.

Some even died for their morals. McLoughlan knew that story all too well himself.

"I may have a job for you if you do," McLoughlan said as he put his wallet back into his pocket. The job was cleaning his apartment, which he rarely ever stayed in, and shoving a few cooked meals into his fridge for when he was there. Not many people would have offered such a personal job but McLoughlan was a sucker for females in distress.

And this one was obviously in distress.

"Take the job or leave it. It's up to you, Lia," said McLoughlan and he attempted to look her dead in the eye.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
It takes a good fifteen seconds for her to wrap her head around the offer that Chuckles seems to be making, and she blinks at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief as the scorn vanishes from her features.

"Offerin' work? For you?" She looks down at herself. At the layers of frayed and battered clothing that do their best to protect her from the worst elements of Wing City's weather. Yeah, and it's populous too. She's no fool, either. She knows that beneath are enough marks and tracks to make her nature clear, even to one as intent on...

What was he intent on?

"You stupid?" the question bursts from her lips despite herself, and qualifiers seem keen to follow after; "Can't trust no one at the best of times, an' here you want to go offerin' some random street-bitch access to all thats yours?" She shakes her head in disbelief. She wasn't stupid, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this man was, or so well intentioned that he was going to walk headfirst into the worst of trouble.

Momma's voice echoes from the very back of her skull, crawling through years of substance abuse, through smoke and powder and alcohol to reach her ears. "Good people. Them's rare. An' you as best as you can by 'em, or there'll be none soon 'nuff."

She blinks the memory back and shakes her head again at the policeman. "Can take you to th' dolly shop. Gives folks for work like it. Safer. Can't be askin' just anyone, could do anythin... didn't your momma teach you nothin?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan shook his head. She was stuck fast and going nowhere soon. The prickling at the back of his neck stopped. The man let out a great sigh as if accepting some unknown defeat. He slipped his hand into his shirt pocket and produced a crumpled box of cigarettes.

"I don't want a dolly. I wanted to employ you, Lia, but seeing as you're not interested in having access to snooping around a cops place, I guess I will go have to find another street crawler to employ," McLoughlan said as he pinched the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

"Trust and kindness is rare in these parts," said McLoughlan to Lia. "You pass up the only opportunity and you'll never see it again." He took a long drag from the cigarette and let the smoke out real slow from his nostrils.

"When you're dying on the street from hunger or overdose, you're gonna come back to this moment and wonder why you didn't accept my offer. I hope that doesn't happen but it will." The man tucked his hands into his pant pockets.

"I'll keep you in my prayers," McLoughlan said before he began to walk away from Lia.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers Character Portrait: Arneth "Father" Jarrend
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#, as written by Akiyo
"You must do this. It is for the Crimson Family." He remembered the Crimson Sergeant telling him. Now the New Blood stood at the Wing City Center, his body rigged with explosives installed into his chest and clothes. He was covered in sweat as he walked his final steps. The detonator bounced slightly in his shaking hand. He walked out into the middle of the street, cars slammed on their breaks and horns yelled at him. They might as well have been miles away because he could only hear his heart beat.

"For the Crimson Family." He said as he closed his eyes and activated the detonator.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and when he looked at the detonator a voice clicked into his radio, "good work son, you are ready to face death. Leave that place and meet us at the location you went to this morning."

The New Blood left the street and and disappeared into the crowd.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
"Hey, Now. Ain't sayin' nothin' like that. Just trying to save you from your own stupid head."

Her head twitches slightly at the cacophony of horns and angry shouts that explodes to her left, before looking back to Chuckles, her feet already moving to bring her into step beside him rather than allowing him to simply walk away.

There was very little to say, her mind stuttered over the idea of honest work for long, quiet moments, before she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "How comes you don't want a real maid anyways? Safer, yanno." Thin shoulders rise and fall as she speaks. "Just anyone off the street. Wait until you're gone, take everythin'. Gone into nothing..." fingers half-covered by moth eaten gloves expand outwards in emphisis. "Poof."

A bitter wind sweeps in from one side, and she grunts, wrapping her battered coat more firmly around herself as she walks with the policeman. Hah. Her. Policeman. Didn't see that one comin', huh Momma? It isnt that the offer doesn't sound too good to be true. It does. Nor that the man offering it to her seems too... well.. nice to be picking up girls to work for him... That thought makes her shove her hands back into her pockets. She wouldn't be after THAT if it was his intention. No sir. Call her many things, but she wasn't one of them fancy dollies. You had to draw the line somewhere, right?

She looks up to the looming figure, and simply prompts "Hn?" as though she were impatient for his response, rather than sidetracked by her own thoughts.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
Cameron. Caleb. Carson. Crake.

Chaz. Chaz McLoughlan Jr. That would work. The man couldn’t remember his real name so he had to supplement on a whim. Didn’t he introduce himself as Casey once? McLoughlan cound’t remember. And he wasn’t about to remember anytime soon seeing as he had a follower.

Not a single word was spoken when McLoughlan saw Lia fall into step with him. He puffed on his coffin nail—Chaz’s eyes mentall y rolled—and watched the urchin woman from the corner of his eyes. When McLoughlan was prompted to speak he stopped on the sidewalk and looked down at the shorter woman.

“I ain’t like normal people,” McLoughlan said to Lia. “I get gut feelings about certain individuals and I tend to follow them. You could call me a man of instinct and I have good instincts with you. Now, you could come and work for me and then steal all the nothing that I own. That’s well and fine. Lesson learned on my end, Lia.”

McLoughlan paused to puff more pollution around his head.

“Or you could come and earn a few bucks to buy you some new rags. It’s about to be winter and it’s going to be a cold one this year. The choice is all yours. It don’t make no difference to me, Lia.” His eyes narrowed in thought before he made one more suggestion to the woman.

“Try it for a day. Don’t like it then you can leave with a day’s pay and no need for explantions.”

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
He was offering her an out. Lia glanced quickly to the man beside her, surprised enough that it involves turning her head entirely rather than the subtle glances she generally preferred. Better if they didn't see how hungry you were, how desperate, how willing... Them as what know your wants, knows your weakness. That's what Momma said.

"I'll give it a go, Chuckles." She says at last. "But if I walk, won't be no one can find me." It was unclear, even within Lia's own mind exactly who the statement was meant to reassure, but it seems to shore up her own mental defences enough that she comes to a sudden halt, and pulls her right hand from the pocket, offering it to the policeman who'd, apparently, engaged her services, grimy fingers, vaguely-sticky gloves and all. "See what's about it, hn?"

She watches his face, now, attempting to keep her expression relaxed, but her eyes held far more intensity, and far less wandering drug-haze, than she'd like to admit. You could tell a lot from a man's face, Momma had taught her that too. 'Course, Momma had gotten herself dead by a man, so maybe she wasn't the best to listen to. Stupid cow.

"When do we start, Mr?"

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The Rocketeer stops, muttering something about having to get off-planet, and fast.