((Do I have to reset a timeline or something XD Wiezelga is no more. Wiezen is gone. There is no Wiezen, only Y'iel.))

(God, we spent a whole page just talking about Wizelga. This RP really has no hope)

( COOLAA :((( i'll do anything for you to bring him back! plleeeeasseee!! i can kill flynn xD and maybe elijah too. but pwwweeeeeeaaaaassseeeee :((((

(Should I spare myself the embarrassment and close this RP down..... I'm gonna close it down)

((But Wind, "iT tAkEs TiMe" XD))

(Yeah, until Black Death was brought to it. And just like the real plague, anything that thing touches dies. Or is dead to me. So in short, we can chock this up to another great RP that was killed by a bad RP)

((xD So...in short, this Constipatables RP killed itself?))

(No, Wizelga did)

((So...Jade did it XD))

... :(

(In all seriousness, let's actually try to get somewhere in this RP. And keep any mentions of the garbage RP in comments of posts)

*Joel stepped into his car, the pink and blue neon lights drowning the car in a sea of blinding colors. Turning the engine on and driving from the scene of the crime. The Cleaners would deal with it on their own. He made his way back to the station, prepared for another long night as he turned his radio on. Passing by a dozen cars, driven by humans, living corpses, and creatures with massive horns. Large billboards that advertised all sorts of drinks and movies, all played by famous Hollywood actors like Big Foot and Nessie. Joel just kept his eyes on the road as he made his way to the station, turning the music up to drown out his underlying stress*

Name: Scorn

Species: ???

Affiliation: ???

(Well I'll be damned)

*Joel continue down the street in total silence, lighting a cigarette in his mouth as he turned the radio off. He was never a fan of the whole jazzy kind of music that they played. Instead, he put in his mix tape, blasting loud metal music from inside his car, turning it up loud enough to where it almost drowned out the noise of the New York traffic. Almost*

Name: Walter Moore
Species: Werewolf
Personality: When in human form, calm and considerate. When in werewolf, sadistic and violent to his enemies
Bio: Barely able to keep his werewolf form at bay, he joined the Constables in the hopes of finding one of the two solutions: Put his violent behavior to some use or be killed before he harms any innocent people
Description: A regular man with a white dress shirt and tie with black open over shirt. Has brown unkempt hair, hairy arms, a short brown beard, and slightly pointed ears.

Name: Karen Constantine

Age: 25

Species: Human(Gifted)

Occupation/Affiliation: Occult Officer
^
Occult Officers: The Occult Officers, Founded by Johnathan Hunts'More Constantine the 3rd in 1994, are a sub-branch of the Constables that specialize in the "Purification" of rogue demons and ghouls that have committed what would be considered High Level Crimes.

~Extra~

[The Name Constantine]:
Before the establishment of the Constables, the Constatines were a well known family that specialized in exorcising and diminishing demons in their earliest years until their knowledge of other creatures spread. But if not their name ringing in the ears of hunters and demons, it is their methods of dealing with monsters deemed to be too dangerous for society, which is only another reason for why their name is both feared and despised.

The Constantine Family are one of the few known to bare what is called The Gift, which is fairly seen more as a curse. The Gift is an ability said to be able to cast strange effects upon those who are unlucky enough to be under their thorough eye. Some claim it to be a blessing, others see it to be a curse, just as the last name Constantine has become. Their are many mysteries and rumors that surround this family name, but the secrets held by this family can only be found with those who hold their blood. Or are they?

*Joel stopped his car as he made his way into the police station, taking notice of the lack of officers inside the building, aside from a few at their desks. Others were already on patrol or in their beds asleep. Joel wish he could at least have that luxury. Instead, he marched towards his desk, sat down in the chair, and began his series of paperwork for the chief tomorrow morning, already anticipating him to berate him about another casualty in the zombie cases*

"Goddammit-mother-FUCK--!" The man's voice, full of outright frustration and anger could be heard, the thick soles of casual shiny boots connecting with the ground. "I knew it! Should've just put that damn blonde on the fuckin--" A man, brown hair teetering on the brink of sliding into the territory of grey, casually dressed in a shirt that couldn't be told if it was a some strange shade of green (or a disturbing color of grey) with a pair of jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his pace of brisk but smooth, his hand lifting slowly to place a rolled cigarette to his lips and take a long drag. His eyes were dead set on Joel as he approached his desk. Brushing off his shirt and adjusting the pistol holster on his left arm, he spoke with a painfully bitter tone of cheerfulness, his jaw clenched. The chief had appeared a bit earlier than expected.

"Hey hey, the guy with the plan! The man of the hour with the power!" He gave a sort of sound that couldn't be told if it were to be an attempt at a chuckle or a choke. "Again? Tell me what's your excuse this time Jo'mmm? What, this the fourth time now?"

~

Name:
Fredrick Nicholi

Race:
Shapeshifter

Occupation/Affiliation: Chief of Police Department

~Extra~

"They frowns upon the skins of the many in which we are.."

*Joel just passed him by, his hands in his pocket as he sat down at his desk, clicking his pen as he read over the papers* There is no reason. I found the target, he refused to comply, so he had to be put down. He was clearly lost, and I was just following Constable regulations. If any protesters have a problem with it, they can send me all their hate mail to the usual place. *He took out a cigarette, lighting it with a silver lighter, taking a long drag from it before releasing a cloud of smoke from the other side of his lips*

"That's not the damn point Jo. That has been your excuse each an every time, that they "don't comply"," Nicholi said, mocking Joel with a choked impersonation while he blew smoke from his nostrils. "You have been the ONLY one who some how, some way, manages to be put in that very situation where someone "didn't comply", so much so that now they're starting to see you as a fucking racist. There are numerous ways to go about handling a target that won't comply, and you just keep throwing out bullets. And now, the media and news are all up my ass about finding a solution to you and if it gets too bad, then what? I'll tell you what. Either you straighten up your act or you're going to be suspended point blank period and handing your badge over faster than you can shoot another person from the LD(Living Dead) society. We clear? Or do I need to go ahead and do that now instead of being lenient with you again?"

*Joel put his cigarette out in the ash tray, finally lifting his eyes up from his papers as he responded* You know just as well as I do that when a monster is hungry for blood and human flesh, they are far gone and unable to be regained. So if stopping more people from being killed makes me look like a racist, so fucking be it. I'm here to do my job, I'm not here to satisfy the whole damn city."
"But it would certainly help your case, Officer Cooper". From the opposite end of the desk sat another Constable officer, going by the name of Walter Moore. He sat down at his desk just a few ways from Joel, before Joel spoke up. "Oh, it if isn't the stations number one ass kisser. Mind your own business, Moore."

"It doesn't matter who you're here to fucking satisfy! The fact of the matter is that there's a fine line between ass kissing and having the brains to know when asskissing is needed, Cooper." Nicholi said sharply. "Just like there's one between doing your job and killing people just because you think they're too far gone and actually attempting to do your job CORRECTLY and following protocols and procedures needed for the situation. And since you clearly lack this reasoning, I'm going to be assigning you a partner whom will be your superior to keep an eye on you for the next task coming in. Because clearly, you need some means of supervision before I end up canning your ass Jo, and you know damn well how I feel about doing that."

*Joel couldn't help but roll his eyes as Nicholi continued to get on his case, but his attention was brought forward at the mention of a partner. Joel responded in an annoyed tone.* I don't do partners, chief. You know that better than anyone

"Oh, you don't do partners huh?" Nicholi said sarcastically as if it were his first time hearing this information. "Well you know what we don't do? Make ourselves out to be an organization hell bent on ridding society of all zombies like you're making us out to be, deputy. Maybe having a partner will brighten that bulb in your head enough for you to get the bigger picture. You said a minute ago that you're doing your job and taking care of the blood thirsty monsters right? Well consider this as me doing my job and making sure you keep yours. Your partner should be here soon. You should be lucky that I didn't just decide on sticking you with Walt and have him dog your ass every you stepped out of line--no puns or offense there either, Walt." And with that, Nicholi turned on his heels and headed back towards his office.

*Once Nicholi walked off, he turned to his desk, already frustrated, as he picked back up his cigarette, doing his best to straighten it out and smoke it again. It wasn't long before Walter came up with a quip* "It's okay, Joel. We all make mistakes. We just don't kill people"
"Yeah, fuck you too, furball" *He gave a sigh as he lit his cigarette again* What lovely partner do I have to work with this time, I wonder

Back in the office, Nicholi let out a tedious sigh, one in which was built from the foundations of stress and frustrations. He trudged over to his desk, walking around it on the plain cream colored carpeting that it sat on and eased himself down into his chair where he slumped down some. He shook his head slowly, massaging his temples before pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned his elbows onto his desk before finally lifting his head, and his eyes to the picture frame that had been placed face down near his desktop. Light creases appeared on his forehead as his brows slowly furrowed, a small frown appearing at the corners of his mouth.

He reached for the picture to place it back how it should have been, where the dimpled half-smile of a brunette within her 40s would be smiling at him with those almond brown eyes. But the closer his hand got to the frame, the slower its path towards it became until he stopped completely and retreated.

---

It turned out that when Nicholi said "shortly", he was pretty sure of it. Which came as no surprise since he was sure of most things he set into place. It was only about twenty minutes later that footsteps could be heard against the floor, very light but holding an unsettling tap of an echo to them. And they seemed to stretch on for eternity until a brunette walked in; a young woman with just beyond natural pale skin, her drained blue eyes bordering on a silver-grey. The black-grey infused coat that she wore was lined with white, and the dark grey-black shirt and white tie that she wore underneath the open coat bore a symbol: the symbol being a long white line that looked as if it had been sketched onto it, horizontal lines striking through it. At the beginning of the vertical and horizontal lines on the breast of the shirt were surrounding by more that entwined into a strange circle of loops. The Hucruxes, much like her eyes, the Constantine Family symbol. Her bottom attire was a solid black.

She held a solemn and wary expression, her attention not seeming to be directed towards anyone around her as she was making her way towards Nicholi's office.

*Joel finally picked up his eyes as he saw the woman walk into Nicholi's office. All he needed was a single glance at her and the symbol she wore to know who she was* Constantine. What's one of them doing in a place like this?

*In an abandoned apartment building, lined with rotted, stained walls and graffiti of many different slang and terms, two men sat inside, one resting on top of a torn couch, the other staring out a window with his arms crossed. The one on the couch was a massive man, larger than that of any normal human and most likely a sort of monster. He worse a grey suit with a red tie, his face concealed behind a worn out hockey mask, only covering the face of his bald head. The man at the window wore a black leather uniform with a hood over top of it, with straps holding many different weapons. He worse a plague doctor mask over his face. He gave a sigh before turning to the man in the hockey mask and spoke in a raspy tone.* "Where's Scorn? He's late again."

"Excuse me, Commissioner Fredrick Nicholi?"

Nicholi lowered his coffee mug, his posture stiffening slightly as he straightened himself in his chair. He rested the pen he was using down onto the small stack of papers that he had been signing and cleared his throat. "Detective Constantine. I didn't expect you to be this early."

"Yes, well according to the report within my Drafting Documents things seemed quite serious, so I took the initiative of making my way down to perhaps become more familiar with the landscape here. Permission to enter, sir?"

"What are you, a vamp?" Nicholi replied with an attempt at a joke. But upon seeing that the woman was clearly not amused, he gave a dismissive gesture of hand. "Forget I said that. 'Course you do, come on in."

The door closed behind the woman, nudged into doing so by the heel of the boots that she wore, and she made her way over to the chair in front of the desk on her side, though she didn't pull it out to take a seat. Her expression hadn't changed at all from when she had entered the building.

"So if you've read the report already, then you also have knowledge on the situation here I assume?" Nicholi asked, lifting his mug to his lips again as he awaited an answer and taking a long sip.

"Yes. Both of them. But the second request was peculiar to me. My superior notified me that I will also be required to be assigned a...partner?" Her left eyebrow raised slightly in question.

"Correct. One of our deputies here requires a little more egging in the right direction. I'll also assume that you've heard the recent news of what's been going on here on our side of things to." Nicholi grimaced.

"I will let the media affairs remain with the media. With all do respect Chief, they are the least of our concerns as of this moment. On my way in I also noticed a...werewolf." The woman gave the man in front of her a questioning stare.

"So..it's true what they say about your family tree huh?" Nicholi's gaze drifted to the symbol on the woman's shirt before lifting back to her gaze. "Yes, one of our Constables. Walter Moore, good guy. He isn't a danger to any of us here, and he knows a thing or two about getting around his urges. I can assure you that. Now on to the more pressing matters--"

"The case." The detective ushered in their next subject. The main reason that she had been drafted from her district to began with.

Nicholi nodded and unlocked a file drawer under his desk and pulled out a vanilla folder, tossing it onto the desk. "Fifty dead, all with puncture wounds similar to what we would usually find on a vampire case. The catch his that the punctures were found on the top of the victims' head and skull. Their autopsies all reported the same thing. The inside of the skulls had been drained of all fluids, as well as the deep marks around the wrists and ankles where it looked as if the victim could have been restrained by force."

"Are there anything that the victims have in common? Blood type, activities, places that they might have all gone to before?"

"None." Nicholi answered with another grimace. "From what we were able to discover during our investigation with the aid of a separate district, all the victims came from neighboring cities including this one. Unfortunately, that's where our trail ends."

"And where mine begins." The detective dully, though there was a small glint in her eyes now. "Out of curiosity sir, why have you chosen me for this case? Most agencies shy away once they have a good look at the name."

Nicholi thought for a moment, and then started scratching at his temple slightly with his index finger. "You see...there weren't very many that were willing to accept this case. Not only that, but I don't think that there is going to be any else that can actually handle this case either. So if it makes it any better, you were actually my last option. Not only that, but this is considered as assistance from an outside source, so if things go south, we won't be taking all of the heat ourselves. It'll fall on you as well. I can't afford to have another "racist deputy" label be thrown around to fuck things up for this agency. Speaking of which, if we're done here now, I can take you to meet your new partner."

~

Scorn. Noun. Definition: the feeling or belief that someone or something is worthless or despicable; contempt. Verb: to feel or express contempt or derision for something.

And now we have Scorn, dressed in stripes of black and grey, a bat like weapon with sharp nails jutting out of its sides hanging across his shoulder. He was dressed rather strangely, but in the shadows of the night, he was unseen as he ventured into the abandoned building and started on his way up the stairs.

*Walter leaned in to talk to Joel* I heard that she's here to work on the new cases. The one that had fifty victims
That case again? *Joel continued to look through his papers before continuing* I thought we had every cop in the city on that one

*The man with the plague mask continued to look out the window, continuing to talk with the man in the hockey mask* Did he say anything before heading out, Rage?

Rage. Noun. Definition: Violent, uncontrollable anger. Verb. To feel or expression violent anger

"Yep, said I was goin' to jack me a bag of cheezits and Frostie." Scorn's woodchipped voice came from the door as it was in the middle of opening and being closed again. "Out and about, thought the wait would have all of your panties in knots, so I decided to make the trip short and drop back by first." The man's voice was stained with years of cigarette smoke and a crackling to it from liquor consumption. "Whaddaya want?"

~

Nicholi's office door opened with a sharp swing, the hinges coming to an abrupt halt. The shadowy silhouettes of two covered the wall on the opposite side, their forms sketching over one another and hazing before Nicholi and the detective stepped out into the hallway. Nicholi held a briskness to his step as he made his way back towards the front desks, the woman that accompanied him still holding her steely expression. Her eyes stare was as if she was looking through Walter and Joel as they approached.

Nicholi's mouth opened to speak as his hands were already in the middle of patting himself down in search of his cigarettes and lighter. "Cooper. Moore. I would like to welcome and introduce our temporarily new member from District 31 up north. This is Detective Karen Constantine. She's going to be with us for a good while and helping us get back on track. She is also going to be your new upper officer and partner, Cooper."

*The man in the mask turned to him, already bothered by his wording, before he spoke up* You heard the news about an Undead in the Harlem district, right? He's dead. Shot in the head by a damn Constable. They just don't stop killing. They do what they damn well please and I'm tired of it. We need to gather more to our unit. It won't be any good if it's just you, Rage, and I. It won't be true freedom unless the Constables are all dead.

*Cooper looked up at Constantine, taking notice of her expression. The thought of a Constantine being his partner with the rumors didn't exactly motivate him to get out and solve crimes, but he knew that Nicholi was stubborn as can be. So he just sighed* Jeez, Nicholi. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hired her as my replacement

"If I wanted to get rid of you, your ass would be grass in the past Jo. Like I said before, consider this a favor. You should be happy I'm even allowin' you to keep a desk." Nicholi clenched his jaw slightly, restraining a sigh and giving Joel a wary glance; his eyes narrowed at the Constantine unwillingly, and he finally pulled himself together stiffly, turning to the woman and giving a nod. "Detective, this is Joel Cooper, the--"

"Potential liability that may decrease our chances of closing our current cases." Karen interrupted with a dull comment. Her gaze fell upon the man. "Labeled a racist zombie killing bigot by the public, a boogie man by the Undead Community. twenty-four cases, seven in which the undead were involved, six of those in which the undead victim lost their lives at your hands." A pressure seemed to press down onto the atmosphere, its presence wavering before lifting.

Nicholi's posture stiffened further when he felt the pressure fall into the room, like a thick, heavy anchor of tension was weighing down into the air. And when it began to lift, exhaled silently, but sharply.

"The other seventeen cases were closed sloppily handled, but completed and closed," Karen continued, "So I will say that this minor set back of being assigned a sidekick is...manageable. You're physically capable at least, and for now, that should do well for us both." She extended her hand out to him. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Officer."

~

"I mean, I don't really care if they die or not. Besides, I thought I already told you two that I'm in this shit for the lulz man." Scorn gave a careless shrug as he went and flopped down on the dusty, age eaten couch tat had been abandoned along with the building.
"And yeah, zombies are pretty fuckin' boring too. They just walk around all day groanin' and shit anyways, what's a few less really gonna effect?"

*The man in the mask was silent, before he turned to Scorn* Don't forget, this affects you too. You're a monster yourself, aren't you? And you have a criminal record. They won't think twice about gunning you down because of it. Those glorified killers are just a cancer on the world. Only way to stop it is to show how meaningless they are to this city and this earth. Just do what you must to kill them, but do not kill any civilians. We may be bastards, but we are not as low as them to murder innocence

*Joel looked at Karen, his eyes moving down to her hand in silence, before he turned his eyes to Nicholi, ignoring her hand completely* I think being fired and labeled a racist is a preferable option at this point, Nic.

"Listen, Jo," Nicholi let out a tedious sigh. "This is me obviously giving your ass another goddamn chance. Because if I fired you, not only will you not be hired anywhere else due to the reputation you have now, but you'll be a target if you aren't one already. You think it's going to be easy to find a job with that? And with a loss of a steady income along with the bullshit their going to slap down onto your plate, then what? You still going to give the same, "preferable option" shit as now huh? Suck it up and be fucking man Jo." The last of Nicholi's words left the room silent before he turned towards his office, shaking his head as he left them with that.

Karen said nothing, her only reaction being to turn her head and watch Nicholi retreat back to his office. She could almost see the fumes coming off of him before his door slammed shut. Her attention was drawn back to Joel and Walter, looking from one to the other. But just as she was about to speak, she heard the loud vibration of the phone within her coat and removed it swiftly to answer. "This is Detective Constantine speaking. State your business." Her eyes slowly began to furrow as the person on the other line spoke. But the conversation was short lived. "Understood, Chief."

When she hung up the phone, her attention went to Joel. "There is a nest thirty miles off the city borderline to the northwest. The paperwork should be arriving shortly via scanning. Are you going to take the Commissioner's advice, or do you plan to stay here? Whichever you decide however, will not detour my investigation."

~

Scorn gave another shrug. "I mean technically, I'm just another guy that tried to live his life. A monster though? Those are your words, not mine. I'd like to see myself as more of a...bridge between the words if you get me. Buuuuut, if I gotta split a few noggins then hell, why not? But don't expect me to go out and start some fuckin' murder fest or somethin'."

*With that, he gave a nod, his arms crossed before answering* Alright then. If you have a plan on what we can d first, let me know

*Joel watched as Nicholi walked out of the room, before he turned his attention to his desk, ignoring Karen's conversation. But once she spoke to him again, he looked at her, preferring to stay. But just mentioning paperwork put a grimace on his face* Goddammit! *He stood up from his chair, taking his overcoat and heading to the exit* We'll take my car. Come on!

Karen took one last glance at Walter before following behind Joel until she matched his pace, eventually starting to pass him. "Then if you are taking your car, just make sure that you'll be able to keep up." As they pushed out the doors and into the cool but humid air of the night, she reached into her coat and pulled out a key ring with a single key. "Do you have the proper equipment for the investigation? If not, I will gladly supply you with everything we need. Where is your vehicle?"

~

"Well, for starters, I'd say that we need to focus more on recruiting for the time being. You're basically talking about going to war with an entire organization. Do you really think we're just going to walk outside, kill a few people and it'll work? Nah man, they have entire fuckin' forces." Scorn said. "It's like playing Arma Tactics, or Warhammer 40k. Strategy."

*Joel gave a sigh as he made his way to a used mustang, clearly showing age, as he spoke* I have my wits, and if anything tries to kill me, I have a gun. I think I got all the equipment I need *Joel spoke, but could only think about how condesending she was being, and it irritated him*

*Rage nodded in agreement* Scorn is correct. It would be foolish to try and rush in head on without a bigger group, Plague

Plague. Noun. a contagious bacterial disease characterized by fever and delirium, typically with the formation of buboes (see bubonic plague) and sometimes infection of the lungs (pneumonic plague)
Verb. To cause continual trouble or distress to

*Plague could not help but nod* Alright. First we recruit. Then, we destroy

"Excellent....is what I would have said if wits and a simple standardized pistol would be enough of "equipment". For a normal task, this probably would have been fine. However, this is not a normal task Officer Joel." Karen's eyes came across Joel's Mustang, and a bit of interest entered her voice. "Hm, so they do not require the use of the issued vehicles here it seems.' And despite the condition that the car was in, she added, "A nice Stang you have, and a peculiar model."

She walked around to the trunk of the Mustang, eyeing its features as she went by. After a moment, she tapped on the hood. "Alright, lets see if you are as prepared equipment wise as you claim that you are."

*Joel gave a sigh as he unlocked the car door and got inside* According to the boss, kill no monsters whatsoever, even when they are drunk on blood and already more beast than anything else. I don't got much tools needed aside from basic detective skills *He turned on the engine of the car, already loud music came from the radio before he turned it down and spoke again* So where is the location of this nest you spoke of?

Karen went to the driver's side door and leaned against the side of the car slightly. "The Commissioner and I have already discussed how we will be handling operations from now on. And aside from that, this case is out of the jurisdiction of Nicholi as well. This case is one sent from my district up north, another one of the many reasons I am here. Pull your car around to mind. I may have something more than suitable for you."

She left the car, pressing the unlock button on her key, and a small chirp was heard two or three cars down. With another button clicked on the key, she heard the click of her own trunk opening up. Her car, the only old school vehicle within the parking lot. At first glance, the Old VW Beetle was almost laughable. But the smooth ashen black paint that mirrored the color of her clothing changed what was laughable into something beastly. On closer inspection of the vehicle, it was obvious that it was no normal oldschool car, and it looked as if it was a VW Beetle mashed together with a Porsche. It sat low to the ground, it's plain black tires thick and still looking to be in perfect condition. The ghostly looking tint that the car had made it stand out even moreso along with the mufflers that peeked out from the sides.

((Karen's Car Without the orange on the windshield the the words on the headlights.))

*Joel was just badly wanting to get this night over with, but he gave a sigh and pulled up to her car, rolling down his window* Alright, what is it you want to show me

"Something that you will hopefully be grateful to have by the end of the night." Karen answered, lifting up the door of her trunk. Surprisingly, the trunk was completely empty, aside from the many filled clip compartments on the top of trunk door's inside. Or so one would think until she grabbed onto a small handle a tugged on it, stepping away from the car as she did. The wide compartment extended outwards much like a drawer would, and within that drawer was an entire link of weaponry, weaponry that had been collected over the years.

"Due to the last second notice of being transferred to this district, I didn't have time to pack the first half of my tools, and the second half is a three day drive. Due to this, I brought what I could and deemed to be needed." She said, leaning down for a moment to pick one of the weapons up from the trunk before turning to him. And in her arms, was a link. She walked over to Joel's car. "This is a 40 cal. 46 millimeter Type RBG-6 semi-automatic shoulder-fired grenade launcher. With it I have brought 2 incendiary light rounds, an explosive round and a flash pod round. All in which will most likely be used tonight." She paused for a moment. "I take it that you only have the issued firearm as well? I'm afraid that that will not do for tonight." She returned to her trunk for a moment and returned with a fairly large pistol.
"But a Desert Eagle .44 will suite you nicely considering your size."

*Joel couldn't help but looked socked as she pulled out a grenade launcher* We're only going to a single location. I don't think we need something like that *But as she returned, he gave her a nod* But I will accept that gun

"Where we are going is most likely going to be remote since what we are going after is a nest. Secluded, which will be what works in our favor. If it were a vampire's nest we were going to however, I would agree with you." Karen explained. "However, this is no vampire nest, but not that far from it." And with that, she handed him the Desert Eagle through the window which was followed shortly by the grenade launcher. She went to her trunk and pushed the compartment back it, closing the trunk afterwards and glancing back at Joel. "And please, try not to misfire the launcher. It is loaded, so that wouldn't end too well."
She went to her car's driver side door and added while opening it, "Follow me and don't fall too far behind!"

*Joel was just planning to throw the launcher into the backseat before he was told it was loaded, and carefully sat it down onto the car seat* Yeah, I don't plan on falling behind

Karen slipped the softly firm driver's seat, closing her door the moment she got inside. She reached to her waste and pulled her own pistol from its holster, a steely Ruger LCRX .22 revolver. She checked the chamber for all of its bullets and restored it to its rightful place before starting the engine. It came to life with a surprising war as she stepped on the gas pedal a little, her other foot firmly on the break as the engine lowered into a strong purr. It had taken five years to get the car into the condition that she saw as perfect.

She pulled out of the parking spot that she had taken and flashed on her signal lights for the left to signal what way they were going to be going first.

(I’m surprised COLA actually partakes in this... still xD)

*Joel watched as the car Karen was in pulled out of the station parking lot, and followed behind her. Though he kept his focus on her car, he didn't hesitate to turn the radio in his car back on, the music drowning out everything else*

Karen on the other hand, road in complete silence, the way that she preferred to do so. It brought piece to her mind and allowed her more time to think things over more clearly while remaining focused on the road ahead. Her gaze shifted to the rear view mirror for a split second to see that Joel was behind her still, and she had to make sure that she didn't press down on the gas a little more out of habit.

*Joel was sitting perfectly still, the music drowning everything out around him, bringing a sort of ironic peace to his mind as he continued to follow behind her*

It didn't take long for Karen to start drifting off into her thoughts again, her foot easing down on the gas pedal more and more until she was reaching eighty miles per hour easily in the next second. Luckily, there were only a few cars on the empty road, something that was foreign to her but strangely refreshing as well. It didn't take her long before she took notice of her drifting off, and had to glance in her rear-view mirror to see if Joel was still behind her, only to see She was going to let out a sigh when all she saw was darkness, until the headlights of the old mustang appeared.

In the next hour and a few after minutes, the tires of the VW were slowing into a cruise, it's body being maneuvered to a stop at the beginning of a side road. The engine cut off, and Karen climbed out of her car with her hand already on her holster. She pushed her door closed gently, her head turning for her gaze to met the vacant turnoff where the cement was cracked and worn, small shrubs and hints of grass poking through the cracks as she awaited Joel.