Forums » General Roleplay » Mr. Detective West [OPEN]

//Yes, My character's name is Alexander West, which is the name of another character on here, though that belonged to my best friend who finally gave me back my character, in which I may rightfully play as my character. Anyone may join, and I hope you enjoy. WARNING: SWEARING//

‘What’s that metronome I hear? Perhaps the end is drawing near. You never hear the shot that takes you down. They say when death strikes, you hear a bell. Something so blissful. I wonder if she heard the bell. Yes, the bell gently pulling your departed soul to the heavens, where you belong. My sweet Anna Vwen West~ I swear on my life that I will find the man who killed you. Who took your precious life away from me. I will find him.

I realize it has been about five years since you died. Regardless, I believe you want me to keep looking. I know you are thinking I am wasting my time looking for a murderer when I could be living my life out. I think this is what I need to live out. This is what I am meant to do. Not only bring justice to the dead, but bring it to you as well. Haha...I even still have my secret weapon. I know I’ve been chasing him for a while, but he is just as good as me. I’ve had enough...So I believe I’ll be using that secret weapon now. Haha~’

A gloved hand gently ran over the rough cement of a tombstone. The glove was slick, and dripped from the rain that was soaking them. The gloved hand would soon retract and pick up a bouquet of white roses, with a single crimson one in the middle. The hand would place it on the ground along with several other roses, as the hand lifted and traced over a name. Soon, the hand would press down against the ground to help a male up.

This male’s name was Alexander Adam West, better known in the region as Detective West. A small smile tugged across his face, his features riddled with anger, sadness, and perhaps exhaustion. This male certainly appeared to have a classy way of dressing. His suit was a gently ebony, so it was only faded a little bit, not all that much.

His dress shirt was an off white, the first four buttons being unbuttoned, while his tie hung loosely under the collar of his shirt. His suit’s jacket rustling in the wind as he looked into the sky, letting the rain gently caress his masculine features. His fair skin was a decorated with a fading scar on his left cheek, and a soft pink that would brush over his cheeks,

It was a drunkard’s flush. He was greatly intoxicated. Regardless he believed he was to go ahead and find a bar to have another drink. Perhaps one, or two, possibly three, perhaps four. The more drinks he thought about, the better he felt. The happier his heart began to feel about the situation.

He quickly would direct himself to the pavement a couple of steps away, and began walking down the night streets. He always traveled at night, his heart being more peaceful that way. Any other time of day and he would perhaps start griping a lot. He began to think to himself in a matter of seconds.

‘I am not a normal man. I have seen things that people would use to torture softer minds than my own. I have seen murders and other cases. Truth be told, I have never failed at getting my job done. I kind of refuse letting the case go unsolved. Yet, I waver on this certain case. The case of my own wife, my own lover. Why did it happen to her? What did she even do to deserve such a horrible thing? To get murdered when I was away. She was kind to everyone, but then again...maybe it was not her fault. Maybe it was my own. Maybe I solved a case before her death that is related to this one? In due time I will know, I suppose.’


The man with the most handsome of features, but yet a tired and exhausted posture, could be seen taking a simple walk around a cafe at this point. Sure this was a rich town, and yes the male was just around well dress, but there still was that hint of messy that showed he worked an awful lot. He wore an ebony, leather glove only on his left hand, as if he had something to hide, but for some reason, it only made his look fit. Since everything was loosened on him, this meant he must’ve just gotten off of work before he visited the grave of his dead lover. His raven black hair was a bit messy, as if he combed his fingers through it in pure frustration perhaps?

He was a young male, perhaps in in twenties or thirties? Whatever the age, he was able to smoke, judging by the fact he had placed a cigarette gently between his his pained lips. His hair would every once in a while tickle his fair skin, making him quickly push his hair back. He looked as if he had seen Satan himself at the current moment, as if he couldn’t easily get his mind off of a certain subject.

He decided more than just four drinks would perhaps calm him down, judging by how he was heading to a bar a bit faster. This was no regular bar though. There were more than just tough guys, but simply the toughest guys in the city were there, not to mention the city’s fair share of assholes. The male pushed the rusted door open, a bell ringing when he did. He sighed as the whole bar stopped and stared at him. They watched him not make eye contact with a single male, him looking down as he walked. Once he sat down in front of the bartender, he asked for vodka, and the whole place continued their conversations.

This was a place that would hurt you for being a milk drinker. Soon, the vodka was put in front of him, another hand but his own grabbing it. Before he knew it, a tall, brutish looking male decided to go start some trouble. The brute slowly smiled and would say,

“Gee, thanks for the Vodka, Squeaker. I’m glad you’re so nice to give it up.”

The male watched as the brute took a sip of his Vodka, noticing he was catching the attention of the others in the bar. He suddenly slung the front of his wrist under the cup in the other’s hand, causing it to fly in the air, and land in Alexander’s hand. This is when he would wipe the lip of the glass, sip it, and turn away. The brute would grow angry as he suddenly went to punch Alexander in the jaw, but before he knew it, he was punching air. Alexander had leaned back and was still drinking down his Vodka.

He then would kick the brute’s knee, a loud crack being heard as it bent to the side and the brute fell. The whole bar went silent, shocked that the toughest guy in there had been defeated so easily. He merely shook his head and said,

“If you wanted a drink so damn bad, I’m not the only one in here. Ask your friends.”

He would then sit there in silence, taking a sip every once in a while, him sighing and noticing that the once filled chairs around him were now empty, and the people who were in them had found a seat further away.

Meanwhile, outside in the heavily raining city in his hoodie and walking along the somewhat isolated city was a anthro fox who clearly looked armed, but somewhat authorized to carry these weapons with him. The weapons consisted of a gun and a sword. But they didn't look like your normal sword and gun. The sword for starters had a hole inside that glowed a red aura and around the edges of the blade with each space was a black shard but they somewhat had a shine to them. As for the gun, it was a very exotic if not rare looking weapon that looked as though you couldn't get it anywhere else. This fox's blue eyes shone in the dark as he walked on, somewhat not bothered by how his fur was getting drenched.

This fox's name was Max Wicked. This particular fox had a somewhat reputation in different places of which he traveled and helped and most people would call him by his public title 'Herofox.' As he walked and looked about in his surroundings he noticed this would be the one city that would have a rumored detective that himself had shared a fate of losing a loved one like Max. Max wondered if he could help this detective and at the same time wonder if it was possible for his past to be solved as well and find the bandits responsible for killing his family and destroying his home.

Getting a little thirsty from his travels, he noticed the particular bar in the distance that didn't look like it welcomed anyone friendly. But taking no chances, Max opened the rusty door and made his way inside. However, he noticed the crowd was already silent when he was inside and just at that very moment, he witnessed the small figure take back his drink from the brute. He watched as people made way for this detective and saw the seats get empty. Removing his hoodie, it revealed a fox with brown hair and a friendly face. The fox made his way to the empty stools in the corner of where the detective sat and ordered himself a non-alcoholic drink and gave a impressed look at the detective.

Not wanting to come off as strange, Max responded "...Impressive comeback. Does every absent-minded brute fall for your tricks?" he asked as his drink came to him and he took a sip.