Forums » General Roleplay » Trick or Treat:🔥The Infernal Fire Station🔥

Rowen was standing outside the bar, dressed in a robber costume. Complete with a black, long sleeve shirt, black pants that hugged her shapely legs, black sneakers, and a black bandits mask that was tied over her eyes, making the big, round, sultry green orbs appear even more alluring and mysterious. Her blonde hair fell freely to frame her dramatically featured face, her caring too little to fuss with it.
In one hand, she clutched a beige sack that had a big, black, sharpied '$' symbol in the middle. Tucked into the waist line of her pants was a black gun, pressing into her round hip.

Between her plump, pillowy, some-what chapped lips was a lit cigarette. The strongly fumed smoke rising idly up her striking face and into the nights air.

Rowen had a lot of odd interests. For some examples, she loved cranky elderly people, she enjoyed flirting with people who were obviously not interested, and she loved making people uncomfortable. Another of her strange interests includes her love for the Halloween holiday. It was a time she was free to be as ghoulish and creepy as she pleased, and people wouldn't find it as necessary as usual to call the police on her.

She enjoyed the creepy feel, the tricks, and of course, the treats. Rowen thoroughly enjoyed making herself quite sick on booze and candies, it was a delight.

As she smoked her cigarette, her large eyes found themselves watching a paper flyer fluttering down the sidewalk with the fallen leaves, carried on the slight breeze. She bent to pick it up and glanced it over. A Haunted House of sorts? And firemen? This wasn't something Rowen felt she could miss. Sure, there was a high chance it was for children and families, but Rowen wasn't a stranger to crashing family friendly events and being escorted out by police.

The flyer gave the address, and Rowen was pleased to find it was the fire station down the next block, the one she passed every day on her way to her apartment complex. How spookily perfect.

With that, she quickly sucked down the rest of her cigarette and flicked it to the sidewalk, crushing it under the toe of her black sneaker as she began walking towards the fire station.

~

When she arrived, she was delighted to see the decorations, and the muscle-wrapped fire men around, handing out candy.

She stalked up to the entrance, a foxy smirk curling the corners of her plump lips as she approached.

Waving a green arm peeling in places and the paint crackling along joints and creases, Triston thanked the officers for their help and told them to have a happy Halloween themselves. He expected there might be a possible wave of new guests if the cops managed to spread their flyers further than his buddies here had managed to do. He just hoped they could cope with the crowd.

And what a crowd it was.

Besides from the people already in the station with their family and friends, some new people also popped in from around the block. It was actually a surprise that there was somewhat a bigger ratio of adults than children—they had planned the event for trick-or-treaters, thus the candies and spooky yet corny decor—and a lot were women, in fact. That was strange. But a glance at the ruckus happening in and out of their garage, Triston realized why. If you paraded a bunch of burly men, their bodies stripped to the waist, all sweaty and purposely flexing their bulges to ever single visitor, then the ladies would definitely come. There had been an offer for a calendar before, and their chief had been flooded with requests to finally say yes.

He was about to welcome a couple of new visitors—a menacing witch and a voluptuous lady thief that was causing a murmur among his buddies—when a little boy and his friend or probably sister bump into his legs and Triston had to bend down to talk to them. He reached down to give their bags a handful of sweets and... came out empty. Huh? Empty again? He had just refilled these a while ago. Either the men were giving away too much or something strange was pilfering the goods.

"Aww, sorry kids. We're out of candies for a bit. Care for some meat pies?" The big guy winced as the children kicked his shin bones with a thwack and ran away. He took comfort in the fact that those pesky little devils didn't get what they want. But now he was worried. No candies? "Hey guys, someone needs to go out and restock. We're out of sweets," he whispered to the men nearest to him. He hoped this new situation wouldn't cause a stampede of screaming children.

It was a little more lively in here than Rowen had imagined, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. She did her best in these settings, lots of people, lots of noise. She was quite the social butterfly.

There were many children, little... elves? Random tv show or comic characters Rowen didn't recognize. Some adults in some superhero costumes, a witch, and a woman that Rowen couldn't tell what she was dressed up as. Perhaps she wasn't dressed up at all.

The decorations were impressive, she had to admit. Not the most terrifying she'd witnessed, but it was neat. Spooky. Done up as if the fire station was hell itself. The blood-red lighting illuminated Rowen's dramatic facial features quite devilishly.

There were only three things Rowen was concerned with, the candy, the drinks, and the fire fighters.

Blowing a chunk of hair out of her pale face she walked up to a pair of previously mentioned, shirtless fire fighters. Her sultry eyes shined with mischief under her black bandit mask, as if she were smirking through her gaze. She pulled the black gun out of her waistline, raising and aiming it at the fire fighters.

"Put all your candy in the bag." She demanded, holding out the '$' sack in her other hand.

Jacky watched a clammer of half size humans run off. She got out of their way. Her shins had been good to her, she owed it to them to move.

They're out? Damn. She still had a lot of places to hit. Waiting around for a refill would probably be doing herself a disservice, and she didn't think meat pie was a stand in she could work with. The list said candy. Junk. Sugar. Meat pies looked more like a clever ploy to trick some kids into eating a real meal while they were out burning calories.
It was cute, actually. One of the wives probably thought of it. Or hell, she didn't know. She wasn't ready to forsake a firefighter of his meat pie idea.

Shirtless firefighter.
Why hadn't she noticed that before?
Her mouth drew a line. The decision of whether or not to wait around made itself. She'd been fine, but now that she KNEW- she couldn't- her eyes would not leave them.
Oh my god. She was reliving Silas. She had to vamoose. Jacky bailed the way she'd come, slightly red faced. She figured marking as many items as she could off Morti's request was better than getting hung up on one.
She still had to mark Abandoned Ward Candy off her list. That was going to be hard. The 'abandoned' part implied no one was going to be handing out candy there. She was just going to have to hope someone had flipped one into a haunted house.

Damn that kid.

The busy investigator was in his office with a friend who was still in the police force, chatting about a current case that landed on his lap, when the police radio suddenly buzzed with chatter about trouble at the fire station reported by an unknown caller. A couple of cops had already been dispatched right after that, but the man decided to come along to check. Before he managed to leave though, Carl—the supposedly helpful assistant who could only manage to infuriate him to no end—told him it was a costumed event and that he would stand out dressed as no one.

So now Gunther wore a couple of LED horns blinking red every couple of seconds.

But the moment he had arrived at the scene and before he could even asses the commotion happening inside, a witch suddenly ran out of the garage and bumped into him straight-on. He could only grab her shoulders as they both fell down off-balance.

"What the hell—"

"Anything good happen while I was gone?" A hairy fireman dressed as a satyr, complete with horns, fake hooves, and furry leggings—a brown carpet from the showers was murdered earlier that day—came bounding into the open garage with a sack over his shoulder. He leaned over to Triston, putting a hand over his mouth and loudly whispering. "One of the moms mentioned a while ago that we were low on sweets-ay and candies-ay, if you know what I mean." Then an obvious wink.

If Triston knew how to roll his eyes, he would've given himself a massive headache at his buddy's attempt at Pig Latin. But given the situation, he was actually glad that the supplies came just right in time. Hooking an arm around the shorter guy, he laughed as he shared what happened while the man was away and guided him inside where they stored the empty bowls. "You don't know how perfect your timing was—"

"Woah there, momma. Allelujah!" The burly satyr suddenly ducked out from under his arm towards a smiling woman surrounded with a couple more of his mates. The sack of treats was offered immediately to her, even going as far as telling the lady with the fake gun that it was all hers.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. My friend here—there are children watching, go back out there!—uhh, he's just kidding. Of course, you can have some but we need to refill the candy bowls now. Here," Triston pushed some of the guys back and dug a hand into the sack. He took out a full-sized bar of chocolate and offered it to the robber. "D'you like Snickers?"

Her head was turned. She hit something solid. She thought for sure it was the wall, but it had give. She whipped her head around. Oh. Jacky's eyebrows worried upward. A person. She checked for a shirt, then thanked her lucky stars he had one. She would have turned a new color.

"Sorry!" She yelped before they had even fully gone down. "Are you okay?" Again, before they were even finished stumbling.

Dumb question. She was only a few inches shorter than him, but he had her on width, and one look at that face assured her that she would not be able to match even his neutralist of scowls. He looked old. Not senior. Timeworn, like he was always coming home from a hard day.

She looked like she'd barely breached adult hood. That was a lie. Jacky'd seen some things.
Her legs just sort of gave up because adding more force to a fall was just stoking the fire.

Rowen was rolling in the attention, drinking it up and killing the roll of the sexy, villainous vixen. Man, she loved Cat-Woman. She wondered if that DVD had made it with her in the move...

The vixen played pouty when the offer sacked of sweets was retracted by a fireman with a more sensible head on those gloriously stacked shoulders. She stuck out her pillowy, bottom lip, narrowing those big ol’ eyes ever so slightly under the bandit mask.

She ‘tsk’ed a couple times, shaking her head. “I dont think that’s how robberies work, Mr.” She teased, devilishly. Closing one of her eyes, she raised the black painted gun and said,” Bang,” in a low voice, before squeezing the trigger. A stream of harsh smelling liquid shot out and pelted the hulking man in his flaking, green painted chest.

A playful grin spread on her mouth as she moved the gun to her face and licked the tip, collecting any remaining drips of the booze that had been shot out.
“I’m just joshin’,” She chuckled, sounding like a deep, rumbling, sort of raspy purr. The intensely sensual-like act she’d been playing dropped in almost a blink of the eye. Still, she paid no mind to the fact this was mostly a children’s event and there were families around- and mothers giving her the stink eye.
She stuffed the gun back into the waistline of her black pants, then held open her ‘$’ sack towards the Hulk.
“I love Snickers.” She answered, with a wink.

There was nothing left to do but allow his weight to succumb to gravity as the unsuspecting woman and the oblivious man fell into a sudden heap on the floor. They weren't entirely helpless though, of course, and managed to catch themselves in time before completely going down to any kind of injury. Just a bump, a fall, maybe a curse word or two.

Reaching around for the infernal red horns that clattered around somewhere nearby, the bulky ex-cop closed his meaty fingers on the headband and gripped it hard that it nearly snapped in two. Gunther placed it back on his head—it must've broke when it fell, but the lights weren't working anymore, thank God—and pushed himself up.

"That was embarrassing. Sorry, didn't see you there, miss. Here, let me help you up." Gunn pushed back a sleeve to his elbows and extended an arm to the downed girl.

Half-expecting for a foam-tipped bullet, or at the very least maybe a pellet, to shoot out of the lady's gun, Triston was caught completely off-guard when something streamed out of the pistol's tiny hole towards him. At first, the fireman thought it was just water, but what squirted out towards him was definitely not something he would've imagined would be appropriate for the children's event.

"Woah, what—" Triston could only shudder in surprise and stand there looking down on himself as a stream of what seemed to be high-proofed liquid splashed onto his exposed body; dribbling down between his chest and stomach, trickling along its crevices, teasingly washing some of the thick paint away to reveal the sweaty skin beneath. Under normal circumstances, it would've prompted to develop into something more, but as it is—and the amount of wholesome families around them as reluctant witnesses—the man could only stop the wet mess with his hands before it drenched the front of his pants. "Is this alcohol?"

The warmly embarrassed man let out a sigh and shook his head, before eclipsing into a smile and digging into his bulging sack to pull out a bigger bar. "No worries, ma'am. I was planning on repainting myself later anyway. Here's a bigger piece for your trouble, Happy Halloween."

“That’s mighty kind’a ya, Mr.” Rowen drawled, watching him dig through that buldging sack with an almost feline-like, predatory gaze from behind her thin mask.

She held out her ‘$’ sack towards him, so he could drop the large chocolate bar inside. She gave a half smirk at the little tug it gave her hands when the large bar hit the bottom of the sack.

“Well, it seems I’m a bit out of place here. Wouldn’t wanna spoil your little shindig.” Yes she would.
“But, thanks for the candy.” She said, bundling closed her beige loot sack and slinging it over a shoulder.

She ran her large, pale green orbs over the firehouse scene on last time, drinking in the cheesy, spooky decorations, the obnoxious children running around, and lastly, the hunky, half-dressed, human sculptures- or firemen. When her eyes landed back upon ‘the Hulk’, she presented a sly, foxy smirk on her pillowy mouth.

“Maybe next time I stop by, I can get a taste of some other sweets.” She teased, winking one last time before twirling on her black sneakers towards the large garage door she’d entered.

“Happy Halloween, Mr!” She bid.

He wasn't mad, and Jacky counted her blessings. She had a long night ahead of her. Peeving off a cop would be a poor way to start it, and she didn't have Herman around to be her silver-tongued helper. He was better at dealing with people.
The boy could cut through a Black Friday crowd like a shark.

"It was my fault." She looked at his hand like she'd just been offered a cactus bulb, then fixed her face, rolled to gather up her witch's hat, and took the hand without arguing. He was just being nice.

Jacky came to her feet easily, almost with a spring. She still had that barely twenty something energy that everyone else started to miss when they hit thirty.
"I'll slow down." She brushed her knees off. If he'd been a kid, she might have accidentally knee'd someone in the face.

That would have been bad.
"Um." She looked around him. Blessed freedom was a hop and a skip away. He was a wide thing, but he couldn't compete with a garage door. "Well if you're okay then I got .. uh. Places to be."

From the start of their encounter, Gunther had wrongly assumed he had just brought down some kind of teen—although to his defense, there hadn't been much to see as everything had happened as quickly as it was over and the place was just crawling with children—that he suddenly realized with a slight shock the the little miss was actually a woman. Well, the witch costume notwithstanding, the figure that he had just helped up was definitely not a kid.

"That makes both of us. I should've been looking where I'm walking," Gunn picked up a long weird stick off the ground and handed it back to her as she was fixing up a weird cone on her head that had a dangling animal off of it. Was that chicken? He wasn't really an expert on the occult nor any famous characters that he just wrote it off as one of such. "You won't hear any complaint from me. No injuries whatsoever."

The man was just about to let her pass, but the young woman seemed to have left something else on the ground. Picking it up, Gunn couldn't help but glance on the stuff written upon it; a bunch of candies, which wasn't really that peculiar as it was Halloween after all. But, fire station candy?

"Fire station candy?" He echoed his thoughts with a raise of a brow and piqued interest. "I guess you can check this off the list then. Here, you dropped this."

With his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, gulping both air and surprise at the leaving woman's lascivious suggestions, Triston waved her a farewell and well wishes as she probably went on to more conquests with her gun and dangerous smile.

After refilling some bowls and handing over the sack of sweets to another fireman to finish the task, the hulking green man—well, actually the semi-washed off costume had transformed him into looking something like a half-Frankenstein in the middle of transformation—then grabbed some paint to retouch his look.

Halfway through though, one of his buddies came back with an empty sack and an "Oops!" look on his face. What now?

"Let me guess, we're out of candy again? Well, I already did the refilling, you guys go buy and take care of it this time. And hurry!" He shouted to the chuckling man as the guy ran out of the building.

"Hey, guys? You think you can help with some mystery here? Someone or something is stealing the candies faster than we could get them," Triston walked over to a small group of people nearby; the couple of superheroes and the redhead. "I still don't know where elf-boy went and I've a feeling he might not be off the mark. And can any of you help painting my back?"

"Alright alright I was just having some fun. I put a spell that makes the sweeties relocate! See??? You drop it in this basket and it immediately turns up in my pocket" grinned Achu sticking the head and coming over.

"As for painting your back... let me help you with that..." nodded Achu with a smile of mischief.



"Yr hyn a welaf
gwnewch yn go iawn
troi y dyn hwn
i mewn i'r creadur"

which meant...

What I see
make it real
turn this man
into the creature

He stood and waited wondering if his magic would indeed turn the fireman into the Hulk himself and what would happen then.