Who: Caprice Turner Where: Jerry's Diner, New York When: Monday, December 28th; Late at night Rating: PG-13 Summary: Caprice discovers that her father has been murdered
Caprice was sitting on the dining table of her tiny and still apartment. Despite multiple lamps and lights, they all remained off, the only light being the dim moonlight outside her window. Pouring herself another shot, Caprice brought the glass cup to her lips, drank it as if it were water, and set it back on the table. The cup was now stained with blood. In fact, not only was the cup stained with blood because of her hands, but her shirt was stained with blood as well. As her pants, her shoes, her face..
Walking down the all too familiar road to her father's diner, Caprice already fumbled for the diner key in her pocket. It was thirty minutes past close, so even the regulars would have headed home by now. Despite having seen her father just a few days ago, she hadn't been to his diner in the longest time and she had been craving a strawberry malt (no one made them better!).
Just as she turned the corner to her father's shop, it took her no more than one second to register the condition of the shop before she began running full speed into the diner, immediately taking out the gun tucked in her jeans. The diner was in ruins, one of the glass windows were shattered, chairs flipped over, registers unopened,.. But everyone knew not to touch this store. They knew the retributions that would come for crossing a Turner.
Absentmindedly, Caprice began to pour another shot (which clearly looked like at least two) into the cup. Her face was tear-stained but her eyes showed apathy, her gaze was blank. She shut her eyes tightly, as if it would make the images so engraved in her mind go away. It would not. She put the cool cup to her cheek--
She held her father and put her cheek to his. It was cool to the touch. A puddle of blood was on the floor from where he got shot. From the blood marks dragged on the floor, it appeared as he was trying to get away or -- Caprice looked in the direction he was going, his office -- to get the gun. The smallest of smiles graced her lips. Turners never ran away from a fight.
Caprice threw the glass cup against the wall after taking her whatever-number-she-was-on shot. The nearly empty bottle of vodka before her indicated it was a rather high number. Throwing her head into her hands, Caprice shut her eyes, two tears immediately streaming down. Had the gangs found out? Did Aiden and Bryce piss off the wrong people? Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Her father was dead and there would be hell to pay.
After kissing her father on his head gently, she embraced him one last time before kicking his office door open and taking out two guns from the hiding places. She took one last look at Jerry's Diner before running off to the worse parts of New York which she was all too familiar with. Whoever the hell it was that murdered her father would remember the night Jerry Turner was killed. She would not be silent, she would not be still. Not until the gangs were in mourning, crawling to her and begging for their lives. Someone would talk and until then, she would not stop.
Wiping one of her tears with her fingertips, she idly looked outside at the moon. It beckoned her to continue. That the moon would provide her light, yet cloak her in her darkness. Caprice washed her hands of the bloods upon it, grabbed several guns and knives, and headed out. It was not over. She had no leads and her father was still dead. She would provide him justice, peace. And until then, she would paint the town red.