A slight figure clad completely in black straddled their motorcycle, a sleek machine put together by the rider's very own hands. The rider stretched their arms, drawing attention to the dragon embroidered onto the back of her armored jacket. Beneath the tinted visor, a pair of steel-gray eyes flashed as their owner geared up for the race. The paint job of "The Wyvern" glinted menacingly as it roared to life under its rider's touch; they were ready to blow through this race. This particular rider wasn't in it for the glory, just for the adrenaline, the thrill of moving so fast, even her own thoughts couldn't keep up.
Lucretia bent low over the handle bars, antsy. Around her, other cyclists were doing the same, ready to get this show on the road, literally.
The starting gun sounded, and six illegal motorcycles thundered down the track, all vying for the position of first place. Lucretia was currently neck-and-neck with a well-muscled rider who went by "Dark" on the track, the same way she went by "Dragon". They rounded a tight corner, too tight for Lucretia to handle.
Lucretia's heart was nearly in her throat as she saw a concrete wall suddenly appear before her, and then everything was black.
Lucretia awoke, surprisingly feeling refreshed, although a tad stiff, on a cold stone floor. She picked herself off the ground, and then took a quick inventory of herself. Black , scuffed, boots still on her feet, pitch-colored pants still tucked into said boots, gloved hands still attached to leather-bound arms, which were still connected to her torso, bound chest and all. She cracked her neck, and then lifted her helmet off of her face so she could get a clear view of where she was.
It looked like she was in some sort of wine-cellar, although how the hell she had ended up here was beyond her. Lucretia knew how fast she was going when she rounded that corner, and there was no way in hell that she managed to survive that unscathed. The sparse lanterns flickered on the walls, providing just barely enough light to see by.
"Am I… Dead?" the thought swirled through her mind as she tried to get her bearings. Lucretia held out her helmet in front of her so she could see her reflection on the tinted visor. Same straight nose, same large almond-shaped gray eyes, same bowed mouth, same short-cropped black hair that made her look like a guy, although her bangs alone were down to her cheekbones now, same pink bow-shaped mouth. "I don't feel dead…" Lucretia said to herself, as if trying to reaffirm the point.
Experimentally, she kicked a rack that held a countless amount of dusty bottles. Her eyes watered as she stubbed her toe. Yup, she could still feel pain. Lucretia shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to figure out what to do next. "Obviously I need to go and find someone." She thought with some hesitation, somehow she doubted that the owner of this wine cellar would be particularly pleased with a random person suddenly showing up in their basement.
Lucretia poked around until she found a set of wooden stairs heading up, assumedly to another floor. However, before she could climb them, a man with a scarred face and ginger hair opened the door and descended the stairs. He looked at her quizzically, "I don't rembembah you on the guest list! Whatcha doin' down here?"
Lucretia simply said "Where am I exactly? I… I just woke up and I'm not sure how I got here." She looked hopefully at the man.
He looked her up and down then nodded "It happens to tha best of us. You're in Mastah Reavah's mansion." He narrowed his eyes at her once he saw the blank look on her face. "Millifields, Ring any bells?"
Lucretia's face simply continued to cloud with confusion the more the man tried to explain their location to her. Why the fuck was she in some rich person's manner? Why did this guy have a British accent? What was with his clothes, they looked like something a you'd see at a steam-punk convention.
Lucretia cleared her throat then said "Uh…No. I've never heard of any of this." A sudden idea popped into existence "Oh, is this a LARPing event or something?" That would make a bit of sense, some hard-core players refused to break character until the event was over, immersion was quite important for them.
The man looked at her as if she was crazy. "Tell ya what, I'm gonna take ya down to have a talk with Mastah Revah. He's gonna wanna hear this". Without another word he grabbed her by the arm and led her up the steps.
What felt like a rock suddenly formed in Lucretia's stomach. Somehow, she knew that this was probably not going to end well.
Top-hat slightly askew, but besides that, impeccable, Reaver was enjoying the company of two very lovely blondes when a maid tapped him on the shoulder. His dark eyes flashed in annoyance, he rested his hand on the butt of the gun strapped to his hip. He didn't care if they were currently in the middle of a party, no one was about to tell of his habit of picking off the staff that displeased him.
"Master, we have found a young woman dressed as a man, in strange black clothing, poking around in the wine cellar." Her tone was fearful; Reaver was well known to shoot the messenger when the message was something he didn't like.
Reaver slapped the slightly bustier blonde on the rump, and flashed a dashing grin at both of them "Come up to my chambers after the party you two," He growled seductively "We'll have a private little party of our own with a few other people once I'm done taking care of this.. Business…" Smirking he said "A young woman dressed as a man hm? Maybe they'll join us as well!" The blondes giggled; utterly delighted in his invitation.
Reaver's expression grew cold all of a sudden, and the blondes fluttered away, perhaps rethinking on accepting that offer. He turned to the maid, who turned white when she saw his expression.
"Where is she now?" He snapped, his gun suddenly drawn and aimed at the maid's head, he was not terribly enthusiastic about being interrupted from his conquests, even if it was for something as interesting as a cross-dressing young intruder.
The maid quivered in fear "With Barry, headed to your office I think."
Without another word, he holstered his gun and set off to his office. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he could get back to those two exquisite blondes.
Lucretia went along with the ginger man, who had just introduced himself as "Barry". Her senses were overwhelmed as he walked her through party, clothes of near impossible hues hung on the party-goers, the sharp smell of alcohol, sweat, and sin hung in the air, it was quite a bit. Almost like a Victorian themed rave of some sort. But they were soon away from the crowd and walking quickly down an magnificent hallway. He ushered her through a large wooden door, and into a richly decorated office. It was all red, gold, and dark wood. No expense was spared.
Lucretia was gaping at the large portrait of a handsome man when the now-familiar pressure of Barry's fingers left her arm. She turned to see what was going on when her heart stopped. Now talking hurriedly to Barry, was the most stunning specimen of a man she had ever seen. He was tall, well built, and had a face that could make a girl swoon. Although the white coat he wore with heavy black fur seemed over-the-top, and his hat was simply outrageous, it somehow suited him perfectly. The portrait hanging on the wall couldn't capture the man's natural charisma; he simply had a presence that demanded attention.
Barry had quickly brought Reaver up to speed about this intruder, like her odd questions, and how it was impossible that she had gotten into the wine cellar without essentially teleporting.
The handsome man smiled at Lucretia, she simply stared back, her mind frozen. Somewhere in her thoughts of "Ohmygodheissofreakinghot" Lucretia made the connection between him and the portrait. This was Reaver, the owner of the mansion.
Reaver chuckled at her reaction to meeting him in the flesh; it wasn't particularly often that this happened, though it did from time to time. It was a bit cute to see her dazzled by his glory.
Reaver said with a lupine smile "So, tell me dear, where did you come from?"
Lucretia shook herself out of the daze he had put her into. "Oh, Washington D.C."
Reaver's face suddenly contorted into a barely reigned-in expression of irritation, in a few short steps he was suddenly towering over Lucretia. Cute or not, no one messed around with him. A gloved hand grabbed Lucretia's chin to force her to look Reaver in the eye "What did you just say girl?" He was going to get the truth out of her, one way or another.
Lucretia was taken aback in the Reaver's sudden shift of demeanor, but her face didn't show it. Racing had given her nerves of steel, and intimidation was something other riders did in attempts to distract her and screw with her head.
"D.C. District of Columbia, just north of Virginia, just south of Maryland, United States of America… It's On the Potomac river…" Lucretia tried to get a reading off of Reaver's face, and came up empty handed. The stone that formed in her stomach earlier sunk to a new depth, the distinct feeling that she wasn't going to be able to get home tonight began to settle around her.
His eyes scoured hers, trying to locate any sign that she might be lying. Out of nowhere, he pressed his lips firmly onto hers. Lucretia's body stiffened, she instinctively dropped her helmet, which had been tucked under her arm, and shoved with all of her strength against him. Once the pervert was a safe distance away, she grimaced, clearly disgusted. Trying to keep herself from retching, she scrubbed her face with the back of her glove, trying to wipe away the taste of expensive wine that had come with his mouth.
Reaver stumbled back about two steps when the curious little creature shoved him; she was much stronger than she looked. "Interesting"he thought. It was a shame she rejected his kiss though, it would have made getting real answers a much easier task. He eyed her, contemplating his next move. Without a hint of qualm, he raised his cane and struck her on the side of the head, effectively knocking her out.
Lucretia didn't even see him raise his hand before she was on the ground, out cold. Reaver pressed a foot against her side, testing to see if she was actually out, or if simply faking. Convinced that his blow had indeed done the trick he turned away from the strange girl and said firmly to Barry "Get her cleaned up and dressed in something easy to remove. Search her clothes for anything useful, and…" He raised a single eyebrow "Don't harm her anymore unless necessary, I want coherent answers." Reaver thought for a moment "Put her in one of the cages, the ones in my second bedroom of course. Now, I have some important matters to attend to, Tatty bye!" Reaver strutted off to return to the warm company of the blondes and a few others; he could deal with this problem in the morning.