lynnchvn

[lynnchvn]

call me medusa for my monstrosity is not mine to bear, but yours to fear.

a.c (via domrps)

[lynnchvn]

JAVIER SUAREZ.

@lynnchvn

What a rough go it had been for Lynn Chen lately. Javi doesn’t know her too terribly well. The two of them have some shared bond over similar ranking structure within the organization. Have both stumbled and found their footing in the way of managing a small group of delinquents, while also somehow molding them into machines. If he’s being entirely honest, when she ascended, he wasn’t sure how long she was going to last at their level. Couldn’t get a good read on her at first; but she’d proven to be more resourceful than she seemed. Enter Javier at the butt of all this. He has no delusions about his role within the syndicate, and even less when it comes to his operation in relation to Henri. There was a special sort of understanding, whereas Javi, functioning at a lower level (although almost entirely at the behest of Henri himself) had become a sort of… intermediary between ‘upper management’ (if you will) and those who operated at, or below him. Not that he particularly minded in any way. It wasn’t a grab for power, nor did it feed into some inflatable ego that he’d cultivated over the years. Instead, it allowed for a sort of peace between the ranks. One he’d fancied himself quite adept at maintaining. He’s garnered himself some intel on Lynn Chen’s whereabouts. Knows that she spent a little time at the hospital, and it didn’t take very much convincing on his part to come up with the details of her discharge. He’s parked out front, just outside of a loading zone, and every time someone taps on the window of the black BMW that most certainly does not belong to him, he mutters something along the lines of, ’my cancer laden wife is on her way out from chemo’, and no one dares challenge him on it. It’s not until he’s caught sight of a familiar shape as it exits the front door of the hospital that he’s decidedly calling attention to the car with a resounding ’honk’. Javi isn’t sure whether or not she’d recognize it the vehicle, but here’s hoping.

Lynn had heard many times before a quote that had now crossed her mind, considering her current situation: pain means you’re alive; the Capo couldn’t help but think that whoever had said that had clearly never experienced pain on an almost daily basis. After what she had been through the last few weeks, the pain came as an annoyance rather than a reminder that she was breathing. Now, thanks to some bitch, with either good aim or a terrible one, she could feel that reminder every time she took a breath.

The day she had been waiting for had finally arrived: she could flip off the hospital and be on her merry way and hopefully never get admitted into one ever again. It was a vain wish, considering what she did for a living. She’d hold on to the possibility that the next time she’d be in a hospital bed, it’d be one headed for the morgue. Her hand rested, absentmindedly, on her left side, just over the covered wound; be careful to not pull your stitches, don’t strain yourself with physical activity ---- every warning had become a blur in Lynn’s head and she didn’t intend to follow them down to a T. 

The moment she opened the hospital door, it was as if the electricity in the air found her again. The impending bloodshed. Her attention didn’t stick around in her thoughts for too long before she heard a car honk and immediately looked at the source. A black BMW. Flashes of a night she’d like to forget appeared in her mind; the quiet night, the feeling of her doom just right around the corner, the shovel that she used to dig her supposed grave in and the nonchalance that followed right after, courtesy of the car’s owner. 

Lynn bit her lip and let out a sharp exhale, rolling her eyes as she stopped in her tracks, amidst a couple of stairs. Great, another fucking grave digging road trip. The Capo knew she had fucked up; she knew that she should’ve looked better, she knew she should’ve been more cautious because of everything that had happened. If she had done her job properly, they wouldn’t have lost precious cargo. She could feel her chest tightening, knowing that she couldn’t handle yet another mess. Lynn breathed in and then slowly breathed out, accepting whatever was to come to her. 

Walking the last few steps towards the car, Lynn opened the passenger’s side door and parted her lips, ready to tell Arend that she was not getting into another car with him without a clear idea of what was going to happen. Instead, she spotted a familiar and yet unexpected face. A wave of relief washed over her expression, though her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Javier?” Although it had been a stupid thing to say, it was the first thing that left her lips. “Why do you have Arend’s car?” 

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ALEX BARNES.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He agreed with a chuckle. He was always showing off, every chance he got. “The day that I’m not in one piece is when all hell will break loose. You better stay and fight when that happens.” Alex was confident enough that he’d always be in one piece. He was still standing after … a lot of injuries. “I’m the same,” He was debating bringing up his conversation with Ronnie but decided against it. “I’m ready to kill whoever did this. Did you see it all go down?”

Lynn furrowed her eyebrows at Alex’s words, not because of what they had told her but because he had said them in the first place; the reality of their job was that they never knew what was going to happen to them, whether it was just losing a member or losing their lives. “I hope you’re not doubting I will.” The Capo teased, giving Alex a small, teasing smile. Lynn shook her head, “I didn’t see much. Just heard the gunshot and Veronica’s...” scream, despair, Lynn could go on, “and, well, everyone going crazy after. What about you? Did you see anything? Anyone?” 

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SANTIAGO FLORES.

“I can’t say that’s been a popular area to hurt me. Most go for my face since it’s pretty irresistible. But the secret to being hot is being confident so those people are idiots.” He was just playing along with her conversation. “What are you, a fire extinguisher?” He said amusingly, laughing at himself. “Call me El Jefe.” He knew better than to tell anyone his real name and gave her a name to match his face. 

Lynn couldn’t help but let out a scoff, a small laugh hidden underneath it. "Whoever told you your face is irresistible is not your friend.” Her remark could either be taken as amusing or as annoying but either way, no matter how the conversation ended, Lynn didn’t care. A punch to the face is nothing these days. “Yeah, I thought that much was obvious,” her words dripped with sarcasm, a slight roll of her eyes taking place before she looked at the man again, eyebrows raised, “El Jefe? The Boss? Really? I’m not calling you that, buddy.”

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DIANA MOREAU.

Diana tossed her cigarette to the ground and crushed it under the heel of her boot before she moved her way over to the familiar car. Her hood flew off in the wind as she opened the car door, hopping in quickly and shutting it behind her. Before she put on her seatbelt, the woman looked over at the familiar face and gave her a grateful smile - even though warm emotions weren’t always in the repertoire for Lynn Chen.

“Thanks for coming to get me. I would’ve called Henri but I wouldn’t trust that he’s sober enough to drive.” She shrugged, letting an exhausted sigh fall from her lips as the woman began driving.

Lynn nodded her head at Diana’s grateful words. Truth be told, the Capo wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of her heart because that’s not how things worked. She wouldn’t say anything about it, however, not unless prompted. And if that was the case, there would be no sugarcoating or white lies because, in this business, no one cared how you felt. “Henri wouldn’t have come,” the woman began, eyes never leaving the road before her, “he’s a bit... Busy,” Lynn decided, thinking back to what he had done with his free time. 

For a second, she looked at Diana, then her eyes were focused on the road again, “How are you feeling?” The brunette began, pressing her lips together. She would ease her way into more important questions.

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HECTOR KENT.

“Lynn.” Her pronouncement of the world always having been shitty was on par for her. It was a pattern with them, it seemed. Trading punches and being slammed to the mat while talking about the state of the world was the basis of their relationship. Either that or talking about the same topics over beer. He had a passing moment of wonderment at how she found him but her question made that concern turn tail.

“He was in secondary with me, but I knew his sister far better. They were both two years below me. Ronnie was my science lab partner, she was smart as all get out.” The school they attended together wasn’t a place built for kids like Hector, it was a place for kids like the Vittori twins, but Ronnie tried her best to not let that get to him. He was grateful to her back then, and devastated for her now. “Did you know him?”

Lynn pressed her lips together, a resemblance of a smile dripping over. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she let her inability to carry on with a human interaction speak for itself. If they were talking about gang-related topics, she wouldn’t feel as awkward. Lynn knew what those were about. But talking about life, anything that could come anywhere near being a real talk? The Capo knew how to shoot people but not how to talk to them. 

The woman couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows ever so slightly at Hector’s story time. “You seem to have known him well. And Veronica.” Lynn listened, carefully and with interest. Over and over, Hector seemed to prove that he was far more involved than he knew and Lynn really didn’t want anything to tip over and drive her to do some damage control. She shook her head at his question. “Not really,” which wasn’t a lie, “just here and there, I suppose.” 

Lynn gulped. “How are you feeling?”

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HENRI BAUDELAIRE.

Henri never enjoyed killing for purpose. He liked to pick his victims, take his time in the game he played with them - gaining their trust, drawing them in - from time to time allowing Diana to join him in the sick, bloody game. Killing for work? There was no pleasure in the slice of his blade, torturing a man’s wife before his eyes before flaying him too, the feeling of his blade slicing through sinew and muscle as his screamed were gagged and muted didn’t carry the same note of muse that his kills often did. 

This was work - not fun. There was a distinction. 

But Henri had done what needed to be done - to set an example to those within the family that failing to protect Vincent Vittori had not been an excused blunder, and that a similar failure to protect Veronica would result in a far more brutal execution - if one could be imagined. The two bodies were grossly displayed in his apartment, the idle family member invited to preview his handiwork, to let the image sink into the brains. The Under-Boss had a duty to strike fear and loyalty into the heart of every man and woman in his unit - and so there he was, being magnificently terrifying. 

He’d wanted Lynn there to witness his work, but also to talk business - it had been some time since they’d last spoken of loyalty. Where hers laid. Her casual words at her entrance would lead the blood-soaked man, shirtless and in a pair of red-spattered jeans to pace in, blood finger-tips clutching a sandwich he’d just prepared. “Ah, Lynn. Come in, chérie. Tell me… What do you think of my art?”

There was something in the air the moment she walked into Henri’s place. Lynn felt uneasy, an electricity in the air threatening to mess with her mind. Perhaps she was being paranoid or maybe her instincts were screaming at her as loud as they could, only to be ignored by her duty to follow rank. The moment her eyes laid on the Underboss, Lynn’s eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed with every second that passed, the Capo looking closer and closer each time; whatever had happened in that place, it was nothing good. With each step she took, she felt as if she was walking hand-in-hand with death.

To say the sight of Henri in such a way was surprising would be an understatement; not because it wasn’t something he wouldn’t do but because, of all the things her mind had come up with, this was nowhere near the ballpark of that. 

And then she saw them. Things couldn’t have gone better if Henri had planned to the last detail. His words sounded in her brain just as soon as her eyes fell to the bodies, the blood on and around them, soaking itself into the protective plastic layer. Just like that, the metallic smell invaded her nostrils and the picture had become clearer; pieces of the man’s skin laid around him, his crimson muscles underneath painting a picture of pain. 

Lynn looked away after allowing herself to take it all in, trying to see who the victims were ---- alas, they were too far gone. Despite the almost two decades she had spent surrounded by nothing but things like that, the Capo still couldn’t take it upon herself to accept the monstrosity of some of the things they had to do or even the things she had done. Some, like Henri, reveled at the sight of blood and gore. Lynn preferred to avoid it, even if she had a knack for pulling it off. 

She looked at Henri; anything would be better than seeing the mutilated bodies. Lynn inhaled before she spoke, “Seems like it was a lot of work,” was all she could bring herself to say for the first few moments, “it’ll be a bitch to clean up. Who was the unlucky couple?” 

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AREND FEHLER.

Arend has to give it to her, the calm — the determination to die? fucking millenials — is truly impressive, in either case. Driving someone preemptively suicidal into the middle of the woods feels… just a tad like a waste of time, and takes just about half the intended effect out of it. But it’s okay. 

He can do nonchalance.

Keys taken out of ignition, Arend steps outside, a little hurry up gesture with the end of his gun as he walks by the passenger door and slides it open for Chen — Arend Fehler is nothing, if he is not a gentleman — before going for the trunk of the black BMW. “Lynn,” and it’s sweet and wistful, very we had such a good thing going, and now look what you’ve done. None of this is his usual modus operandi. None of it is what he wants it to be. He expects people to come to him, with problems that could endanger the family, problems that he could take care of instead of resorting to all this barbaric nonsense. 

If instead they lie and choose to just hope he won’t find out — well, they have made their own bed. ( The air is fresh and brisk, wonderful this time of the night, as he walks just several steps away from the car and sticks the shovel into a patch of earth. )

Have dug their own grave, if you will.

“I’ll let you contemplate whether it’s some fucked up drill over a bit of manual labour,” with a cheerful tap on the handle, Arend moves to lean on the side of the car, letting Lynn take the reign over this one. After all, he would never. “Clears the mind.”

Without really taking his eyes off Chen, wondering just how long a proper confession will take — hoping, for her sake, that it will come at all — Arend sighs, prompting and making it clear… vaguely, that there’s hardly much to hide at this point. He really just needs her to out with the whole thing, first. “I’ll help. Xian Hu, seventeenth of September. Rings any bells?”

The silence outside of the car was deafening. There was nothing around them but darkness and miles and miles of thick woods. One thing Lynn knew with certainty was that her body would never be found; or maybe one lone hitchhiker would get his day ruined, a lack of luck coming into play. The familiar rustling click of a gun didn’t scare her. Seeing the gun in Arend’s hand didn’t make her any more anxious than she already was --- was she truly anxious or just impatient to get everything over with?

Without thinking about it, Lynn did what Arend ---- and the gun ---- had silently told her to do. She stepped out and closed the car door behind her. Lynn’s eyes followed the Consigliere, watching every step as he headed for the trunk of the car. You’ve gotta be kidding me. Reality had hit her, yet again, without seeing anything else. The dots weren’t hard to connect. The way Arend said her name had been clear enough, she just wished he would get it over with instead of wrapping everything in theatrics. Nothing about Lynn’s life was like that, so why should her death be any different? 

Lynn had to wonder if what she was feeling at the moment was what death row prisoners felt. 

The sight of the shovel made her chest deal with a sharp, small pain in the middle of it as it rose and fell with shallow breaths; it was as if breathing had become secondary to all of her thoughts. The rest of her kept itself together, or so she hoped. Lynn didn’t move as he walked by her and stopped a few feet away. 

Digging her own grave. How fitting. His words were poisonous and yet Lynn obliged, like the good soldier she was. Lynn scoffed, finally taking the steps to close the distance between them; her death row walk. “Wouldn’t want to die with a messy mind,” the Capo spoke, looking at Arend in the eye before snatching the shovel from his hand.

One, two, three --- dig after dig, Lynn was more annoyed than anything. It was too much to ask for a quick death these days. 

Her digging stopped when she heard him speak again. Lynn never thought she would hear that name again nor did she think she would think about that date again. Her grip on the handle tightened, anger long buried inside of her bubbling to the surface. The man that changed her mind forever and the date she had wore black for the worse reason there is. 

Everything around her had frozen and there was a rising tightening sensation in her forehead. Was that ringing in her ears? Lynn gulped, thinking of what she should say. It seemed like everything she did and said were of the utmost importance at that moment. She began digging again, shrugging her shoulders and trying to not let show that he had struck something. “I’m not good with names or dates,” neither denying or confirming his words.

Lynn didn’t know how he knew but it made her uncomfortable. Her past was supposed to remain just where it was: the past. Of all the things she thought she’d be killed for, that was the worst reason.

[lynnchvn]

“am I supposed to be grateful to have survived this?”

— Brenna Twohy, from “I Know It’s a Little Late,” Forgive Me My Salt

[lynnchvn]

[lynnchvn]

#rip me  #she looks so damn good

[lynnchvn]

TIME: Late at night LOCATION: Henri’s place STATUS: Closed, @henri-phillipe

In the midst of the ongoing chaos inside and outside of her mind, Lynn enjoyed the calmness that came with an empty apartment. Despite the nothingness at her place, Lynn could still feel the looming tsunami about to raid everyone’s life with crimson waves and many would drown. She took a long inhale, knowing her thoughts were treading through a dangerous path and then took a sip from the cooling coffee, her borrowed energy for the night. 

Her guns could do with some cleaning, so maybe she’d do that before trying to get some sleep. How good would a sleepy soldier be? 

A familiar beep echoed between the walls. Lynn took her phone from her back pocket and read the text she had gotten. It was sudden, random and didn’t give enough details. With furrowed eyebrows, her mind quickly went through the possibilities that awaited her. Without hesitation, she buried it in its place again, got her jacket and walked out, locking the door behind her. When duty called, she answered ---- it wasn’t like she had much of a choice either. 

It hadn’t taken her long to get to where she was called to. Walking through semi-familiar halls, Lynn made her way towards where Henri was, as instructed. “’Kay, I’m here,” a greeting that was both casual and tamed, “what do you need me to do?” 

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DERMOT SCANLAN.

It was an easy supply run, Dermot was all set to send the black trucks full of drugs down the streets of Montreal to their desired locations – that was until he started hearing loud cracks of gunfire. Frantically looking around him he had watched as his employees fell one by one dropping like flies. One thing led to another and with a bruised eye and bloodied he managed to take down the sniper and bring her back down to the docks. He really shouldn’t have been surprised when he saw who it was. He really spared no expense to make sure she was as uncomfortable as possible, nothing at all really only have zip-tie to make sure she’d stay put while he figured out what to do. The cold floor and atmosphere came as a bonus.

It was near around 2am when she started to gain consciousness, Dermot only watched without interruption while he let her work out what had happened. “I figured we were passed the dinner stage when you killed all my men, sweetheart,” sitting up from the box he had previously been sitting on he walked over to her. Boots crunching debris and glass from who knows what. Looking down at her he flicked open his lighter to douse her in the light from the flame.

“This really is a good look for you; you should be thankful. If I was anyone else you might have just ended up in a ditch somewhere,” he flicked the lighter closed and replaced it with a knife. “But out of the kindness of my heart, I’m going to let you live.” he slid the blade down her cheek, her chest, and resting the tip at her thigh where he stabbed downwards in with sudden aggression. “Do you have any idea, how much money you cost me, killing my boys? Do you have any God. Damn. Idea how much good help costs?”

Whatever Dermot had in store for her, Lynn was at peace with it but it didn’t mean she was going to enjoy being at his mercy. At that moment, she was vulnerable to anything he would do to her. The pain didn’t scare Lynn but she wasn’t a fan of giving him the satisfaction of having the upper hand. Truth be told, she didn’t think she would be in this situation. It was supposed to be an easy job, take a brick from the base of the operation and make things difficult for those that deserved it. She was judge, jury, and executioner of her own plan and the fate of the men that chose to work for Dermot. 

There was unforgiving darkness in her eyes and she was ready to do anything. A smirk appeared on her lips when she heard Dermot’s words, a scoff escaping before she spoke, “I didn’t kill all of them. I had to leave some of them alive so you can see how much you’ve lost.” Her words were poisonous even if she was in no position to say such things. Her eyes never left him, watching his every step as he got closer and closer. Her lips were pressed together, her face unreadable apart from the clear anger. Even with a small flame so close to her, she didn’t flinch, even with every reason to. Lynn would rather burn again than show Dermot any sign of weakness.

“How thoughtful of you to tie me up and keep me in this dirty place,” sarcasm dripped from every word that left her mouth, “and if you untie me I can show you just how grateful I am.” Again, those words were spoken by someone that was in no position to do so.

The moment the blade buried itself in her thigh, Lynn let out a sharp, small cry of help. Her body tensed up and her calm, collected breaths were replaced by sharp and quick ones, escaping through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Every moment that passed, the pain got worse; she didn’t miss it one bit. Small groans of pain mixed themselves with every exhale of hers. Her nostrils widened, her eyes falling to the bleeding wound before slowly going up and up and up to finally meet Dermot’s. 

The pain hadn’t left her thoughts, still very much present with every breath and every small, absentminded movement. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk numbers. They bore me,” Lynn began, “and that sounds like a you problem.” Her breathing had become uneven, small groans escaping as she tried to move and find a position that would make the pain slightly less... well, painful. “Maybe you’ll know better next time and give me a challenge.”

[lynnchvn]

DIANA MOREAU.

[ @lynnchvn ]

Everything about going back to the hospital made Diana feel nauseous and overwhelmed - not because of the fact that she particularly hated hospitals, but because she had to do so sober and she was not about that on a day like today. Her body was still recovering from being trampled on at the museum, so getting a in a session was even more important to her daily routine. Though she didn’t feel as though she was okay to drive herself home after this appointment, she knew somebody who could - somebody who would pull through for her in the same ways she had pulled through for them.

Lynn Chen. The woman Diana was constantly trying to impress and make good in front of as she was her way deeper into the Vittori gang. She knew the woman was taking an interest in her as more than just an informant and casual lackey, so if she needed one small favor from the woman, wouldn’t she oblige?

Diana had made her call and reassured her doctor she wouldn’t be leaving without her driver present - which was true no matter how much she wanted to lie to him. So as she waited outside of the hospital, her lungs caught wind of the cigarette she was smoking while she waited for the woman to pull up where she had asked her to meet.

Lynn’s hand was gripping the steering wheel with enough pressure that her usual bloodied and worn out knuckles were turning white. There was dangerous anger bubbling underneath her skin; the thought that they were being played like a fiddle, at the mercy of whoever killed Vincent, was frustrating for her. Every action they took was a shot in the dark and the only thing that was doable was pointless retaliation and Lynn found herself wishing for it, even if she wanted to avoid bloodshed. Her empty wishes were thrown out the window when Vincent’s brain splattered all over Veronica. 

The business had to carry on as usual, and Lynn was both angry about it and thankful for the distraction. The latest distraction was one of the prospects, Diana Moreau, injured. Truthfully, she was at the bottom of Lynn’s priorities but she knew that cultivating trust, respect, and loyalty was essential and so she found herself driving to the hospital to give Diana a ride.

As soon as she spotted the woman, Lynn hit the breaks and the tires let out a screeching sound. The window on the passenger side lowered and Lynn leaned over to look at Diana as she spoke, “Come on, let's get you out of here.”

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RENNATA MARTINEZ.

“Hmm I’ve had some of those.” Rennie nodded once. Altohugh if she was honest, it had been a good couple of years since she had a terrible one because no matter how bad her days or weeks were, none could be compared to those in prison. After going through that and living with a person you didn’t trust at all that wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, Rennata’s view of bad weeks were different now.

“Sure, sexy.” She chuckled, leaning against the bar. “I mean, first round is on me. Then it¿s all you. What you fancy tonight?” 

Lynn let out a sharp, huffed breath, shaking her head at Rennie’s answer, a small smirk gracing her lips. The Capo couldn’t remember a week in her life that most wouldn’t consider a bad one; lucky for her, the baseline for comparison in her life was as shitty as they come. Rising an eyebrow, in a tempting way, “If you tell me your week was just as shitty, it might make me feel better,” it wouldn’t, but Lynn had a persona to keep up with when interacting with people that were not part of her hidden life.

Tequila, she needed some tequila. But first, she had a good answer in mind. A devious look made an appearance. “What if I order an entire bottle? Does that still count as first round?”

[lynnchvn]

[lynnchvn]

                                                       did it ever occur to you

     i might like [ keeping ] what happened to me

                                                                      buried down d e e p ?