noheroessarge

[noheroessarge]

Running from danger wasn't cowardly on Purge night. It was flat out common sense, especially when you were outgunned and outmanned. He'd seen how quickly a situation could get out of control on this night, people swarming out of the woodwork to fulfill their right to purge. He'd like to say that for every atrocity he witnessed, there were moments of surprising decency and courage too, but it was by no means an even split. There was far more evil on this night than good, but he still kept striving for the good, no longer content to sit in the relative safety of his home and wait and out when he knew there were people out here who didn't have that luxury.

A gunshot around the corner alerted him to another's presence, his gun raised and aimed before the other man stepped into sight and remaining steady on him as he moved closer. He didn't appear to be an immediate threat, however, and most people weren't subtle about it. Not tonight. They didn't need to pretend to be friendly or harmless to get close, not when the law sanctioned them being as unhinged and bloody as they pleased. Though he frowned--which was basically his natural expression--he pointed the gun at the asphalt. He wasn't secure enough to put it away, but general gun safety was to never point at something he wasn't prepared to shoot. He would shoot this guy, but he'd rather not if it could be avoided. Still a cop at heart, even after everything.

The frown morphed into a look of confusion as he babbled-- for what else could he call that string of nonsense comments? Everyone in the world knew what tonight was, even if no other countries had yet embraced this uniquely American horrorshow. "Close-- It's Purge Night. Killing's the least of our problems." His frown deepened at the greeting, dark eyes searching his face for some trace of familiarity. Sarge wouldn't say he never forgot a face. In truth, they all ran together, from before the Purge and after. People he'd helped or put away on the force, people he'd saved or threatened on Purge night. It was possible whatever significant memory this man obviously had about him was just a fleeting moment for Leo. "Do we know each other?"

🖤@tosinwithagrin liked for a starter

21ST MARCH 2028

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

WEAPONS OF CLASS 4 AND LOWER HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR USE DURING THE PURGE. ALL OTHER WEAPONS ARE RESTRICTED.

GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF RANKING 10 HAVE BEEN GRANTED IMMUNITY FROM THE PURGE AND SHALL NOT BE HARMED.

ANY AND ALL CRIME, INCLUDING MURDER, WILL BE LEGAL FOR 12 CONTINUOUS HOURS.

POLICE, FIRE, AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES WILL BE UNAVAILABLE UNTIL 7AM WHEN THE PURGE CONCLUDES.

BLESSED BE OUR NEW FOUNDING FATHERS AND AMERICA, A NATION REBORN.

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

07:26:03 LEFT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

With one exception, Sarge had never cared for Purge night. It went against everything he'd sworn to do as a police officer. Protect and serve. It had been hard to argue with the results those first few years though because it seemed like it worked. Overall crime did go down in the country, and it stayed down. His job got easier. Then his world ended, and he believed in the Purge a lot. The Purge kept him going that whole first year. The Purge would get him the justice he'd never see in a courtroom. The Purge would set him free.

Yeah, grief could mess with a man's head like that. It wasn't until that night that he started to see it for what it was. Who was mostly likely to be a target. (Not him.) Who suffered the most on those nights. (Not him.) And who stood to benefit the most from things staying exactly as they were. (Not. Him.) It was unfairly stacked against people of color, people of low income, people who couldn't protect themselves. And, naturally, the New Founding Fathers liked it that way. Crime wasn't lower because people got to purge their darkest impulses once a year. It was lower because it cleared out all of society's "undesirables," and the government no longer had to pay to protect them. And when the Purge wasn't effective enough on its own, they sent their own people to help.

He would know.

He hadn't been able to stomach going back to the force after that night. He'd worked on the edges of private security for a couple years but hadn't yet decided if it was going to work out. Nobody needed a bodyguard more than on Purge night, and he wasn't quite willing to give this up. He'd been warned to stay out of it, warned not to play hero, but shit, it wasn't illegal. Nothing was tonight. The worst they could do was kill him, and that could happen just as easily if he was sitting at home as out here in the thick of it. (Maybe not just as easily. But he'd rather be a hero than a sitting duck.)

It wasn't that hard to tell the government Purgers from the regular population if you knew what you were looking for. They were better trained and better funded. Sure, you'd get the occasional rich asshole on a murder spree, with piles of fancy or custom weapons they had no fucking idea how to use, but more and more these days, the rich preferred to Purge in the privacy of their homes. Get someone old or sick or dying to come on Purge night, pay their family an enormous sum of money for their sacrifice, and never risk a damn thing. You could bet the government would be extra and trained. He fucking hated those semi-trucks with the automatic weapons in the back, take out a whole block at once like it was a goddamn genocide. (Wasn't it, in a way?)

He'd gotten lucky that first night. Few people had ever dared to fight back against that kind of weaponry. He'd caught them off guard. They were prepared now, but he was too. The explosion had knocked the semi on its side and left a crater in the street, and it was a chaos of gunfire and screaming. His team might not be well-funded or ex-military, but with a sniper rifle at that range, they didn't really have to be. There were plenty of people who hated the Purge even more than he did, and they were more than willing to hit back in any way they could. A little strategy, a little target practice, a little contracting, and you got this, a little street guerilla warfare.

When everyone with body armor, gas masks, and automatic weapons was on the ground, dead or dying, he stepped out from his cover but didn't holster his gun until it was clear he wasn't being shot at. Most of the people who had been hauled out of their tenement buildings to be slaughtered had already fled at the first opportunity, but a few had stayed behind, too shocked or injured to run. All of his team wore the same matte black mask, featureless and invisible in the shadows. It was an extra precaution; they'd already thrown out a signal jammer for the cameras. Everything might be legal on Purge night, but there were 364 other days in the year where "accidents" might happen to people who fought back.

He pushed it up to reveal his face as he knelt by a girl, maybe eight, frightened and bleeding. "Hey, it's alright. Can I have a look at that?" He nodded toward her arm, gently inspecting the three-inch gash in it, likely from being pushed to the ground. "It'll be okay. Hold it up like this to stop the bleeding. You got somewhere safe to go?" This he directed at the woman who had joined them. Mother, aunt, older sister? He had no idea. When she shook her head no, he produced a business card with a single address printed on it, no other information. "Memorize it. Head that way and take a left on 5th. There are weapons and medical supplies. You'll be safe there until morning." The card disappeared back into a pocket, and he nodded a goodbye as they started down the street. He needed to move too, before the next wave, before all the noise brought vultures of a different kind down on them.

[noheroessarge]

"Day job's irrelevant tonight." He kept the gun level on him despite the fact that he didn't have one in his hands. It was hard to tell whether he was armed in the shadows of the alleyway, but he'd assume the man had weapons whether he could see them or not. Safer that way. Without taking his eyes off him, he could see the others disappearing out the other end of it behind him, and he sighed quietly. He didn't know what that was about, and he didn't want to.

"If you're with them, go. Not gonna shoot you unless you try to shoot me." He had no reason to believe Sarge was the kind of person who wouldn't shoot someone in the back. He wasn't, and if he really wanted him dead, he could have shot him in the head three times already. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He'd gone most of his career as a cop without ever drawing his weapon.

He'd never even Purged until that one night years ago had set him on this path. Protect and serve-- well, he wasn't a cop anymore, so it wasn't illegal for him to be out here doing what he was doing. Just frowned upon. The government tended not to like heroes.

muse: Leo Barnes (The Purge) open to: 21+ only please / mutuals and non-mutuals / other canon horror muses, multifandom crossovers, OCs, whatever! triggers: canon-typical, including mentions of death/dead bodies, genocide, guns, violence, classism, racism, ableism, police, grief

21ST MARCH 2028

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

WEAPONS OF CLASS 4 AND LOWER HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR USE DURING THE PURGE. ALL OTHER WEAPONS ARE RESTRICTED.

GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF RANKING 10 HAVE BEEN GRANTED IMMUNITY FROM THE PURGE AND SHALL NOT BE HARMED.

ANY AND ALL CRIME, INCLUDING MURDER, WILL BE LEGAL FOR 12 CONTINUOUS HOURS.

POLICE, FIRE, AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES WILL BE UNAVAILABLE UNTIL 7AM WHEN THE PURGE CONCLUDES.

BLESSED BE OUR NEW FOUNDING FATHERS AND AMERICA, A NATION REBORN.

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

07:26:03 LEFT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

With one exception, Sarge had never cared for Purge night. It went against everything he'd sworn to do as a police officer. Protect and serve. It had been hard to argue with the results those first few years though because it seemed like it worked. Overall crime did go down in the country, and it stayed down. His job got easier. Then his world ended, and he believed in the Purge a lot. The Purge kept him going that whole first year. The Purge would get him the justice he'd never see in a courtroom. The Purge would set him free.

Yeah, grief could mess with a man's head like that. It wasn't until that night that he started to see it for what it was. Who was mostly likely to be a target. (Not him.) Who suffered the most on those nights. (Not him.) And who stood to benefit the most from things staying exactly as they were. (Not. Him.) It was unfairly stacked against people of color, people of low income, people who couldn't protect themselves. And, naturally, the New Founding Fathers liked it that way. Crime wasn't lower because people got to purge their darkest impulses once a year. It was lower because it cleared out all of society's "undesirables," and the government no longer had to pay to protect them. And when the Purge wasn't effective enough on its own, they sent their own people to help.

He would know.

He hadn't been able to stomach going back to the force after that night. He'd worked on the edges of private security for a couple years but hadn't yet decided if it was going to work out. Nobody needed a bodyguard more than on Purge night, and he wasn't quite willing to give this up. He'd been warned to stay out of it, warned not to play hero, but shit, it wasn't illegal. Nothing was tonight. The worst they could do was kill him, and that could happen just as easily if he was sitting at home as out here in the thick of it. (Maybe not just as easily. But he'd rather be a dead hero than a sitting duck.)

It wasn't that hard to tell the government Purgers from the regular population if you knew what you were looking for. They were better trained and better funded. Sure, you'd get the occasional rich asshole on a murder spree, with piles of fancy or custom weapons they had no fucking idea how to use, but more and more these days, the rich preferred to Purge in the privacy of their homes. Get someone old or sick or dying to come on Purge night, pay their family an enormous sum of money for their sacrifice, and never risk a damn thing. You could bet the government would be extra and trained. He fucking hated those semi-trucks with the automatic weapons in the back, take out a whole block at once like it was a goddamn genocide. (Wasn't it, in a way?)

He'd gotten lucky that first night. Few people had ever dared to fight back against that kind of weaponry. He'd caught them off guard. They were prepared now, but he was too. The explosion had knocked the semi on its side and left a crater in the street, and it was a chaos of gunfire and screaming. His team might not be well-funded or ex-military, but with a sniper rifle at that range, they didn't really have to be. There were plenty of people who hated the Purge even more than he did, and they were more than willing to hit back in any way they could. A little strategy, a little target practice, a little contracting, and you got this, a little street guerilla warfare.

When everyone with body armor, gas masks, and automatic weapons was on the ground, dead or dying, he stepped out from his cover but didn't holster his gun until it was clear he wasn't being shot at. Most of the people who had been hauled out of their tenement buildings to be slaughtered had already fled at the first opportunity, but a few had stayed behind, too shocked or injured to run. All of his team wore the same matte black mask, featureless and invisible in the shadows. It was an extra precaution; they'd already thrown out a signal jammer for the cameras. Everything might be legal on Purge night, but there were 364 other days in the year where "accidents" might happen to people who fought back.

He pushed it up to reveal his face as he knelt by a girl, maybe eight, frightened and bleeding. "Hey, it's alright. Can I have a look at that?" He nodded toward her arm, gently inspecting the three-inch gash in it, likely from being pushed to the ground. "It'll be okay. Hold it up like this to stop the bleeding. You got somewhere safe to go?" This he directed at the woman who had joined them. Mother, aunt, older sister? He had no idea. When she shook her head no, he produced a business card with a single address printed on it, no other information. "Memorize it. Head that way and take a left on 5th. There are weapons and medical supplies. You'll be safe there until morning." The card disappeared back into a pocket, and he nodded a goodbye as they started down the street. He needed to move too, before the next wave, before all the noise brought vultures of a different kind down on them.

It was instinct that had him pointing the gun before he even understood what the threat was or if there was one. He couldn't see clearly enough in the shadows of the alley to tell whether it was victim, threat, or something else entirely, but he hugged the building for cover and kept his aim steady.

"Come on out of there. Slowly."

[noheroessarge]

"…No, thanks. You go ahead." He frowned slightly over his paperwork. He didn't eat that shit, but far be it from him to criticize what got people through their day.

"... does that mean you DON'T want the last doughnut?" Jelly-filled. It'd be such a waste, wouldn't it?

OPEN - dexter (test muse)

[noheroessarge]

Leo didn't have anything against Clint's skill. The archer was undeniably good at what he did, and in a fight, he'd always be glad to have him at his back. It was the talking that almost had him backing out of this job. Having to listen to him for an entire night was worse than getting shot--and since he’d done both more than once, he knew what he was talking about. The former police sergeant still struggled with insubordination even on Purge night, and he didn’t take that sort of shit from his own team. In the end, he caved for the paycheck and because Barton was actually great at his job. They both were. That was the problem.

"I know you're not talking to me like that." In contrast to Clint’s, his tone never rose or wavered, but the implied threat was all the more obvious for it. Leo might snap back or yell when it was called for, but he was far more dangerous when he was quiet. "I don't have time for your shit right now, Barton, so shut your mouth and listen. First guard outside's dead, and nobody on my floor reported it. I think we got a rat." It explained why he couldn't just use the comms to tell him what was up. It would alert the rest of the team, and if they couldn't all be trusted… well. It said a lot that he came to Clint of all people with this. They might have glaring personality differences, but he trusted him not to stab him in the back. That was a hell of a lot of trust on Purge night.

Out of all the days on the calendar, there were only three he hated; his birthday, Christmas, and Purge night. Tonight, while others were out murdering and looting, Clint was watching over his client until the sirens sounded in the morning, confirming that law and order were back in play. It wasn’t what he preferred to do but the check was undeniably large so he found himself patrolling the house while his ignorant pay day sat contently in a safe room.

Bow in hand with an arrow already nocked, the archer rounded a corner only to come face to face with a man. Instincts kicked in and the bow was raised with the string drawn back in an instant, already aimed at the other's head as his vision came into focus on who he was about to kill. Leo fucking Barnes.

"Jesus-" Lowering the bow, Clint could only shake his head with a scoff at him. "What the fuck is your problem?! Are you trying to die?! You have the first floor and I have the second. As in, this one!" He didn't want to take the assignment to begin with but when he found out Barnes was also going to be on security, he had turned it down altogether. His client had to add a substantial amount to his check for him to agree to work with Barnes. Now he was wishing he charged his client more for this.

"Unless you have something important to say get the fuck back downstairs."

@noheroessarge

[noheroessarge]

The Purge divided everyone into classes by their worth. People didn't want to look too closely at that--and Leo was old enough to remember that it had always been the case, with or without the New Founding Fathers--but it was as true now as it had been then. The night was hardest on people who couldn't afford protection, who were already struggling, who in a way had always been the real targets of Purge night. He’d spent enough nights on the street to know that the money he made from this night went further to changing things than one lone vigilante with an armored car and a handgun.

He watched the rehearsal wrap up from a distance, taking note of the different dynamics between the band members. He knew their names from his research, but watching music videos or interviews couldn't tell him what they were like together. The way Davis lingered longer than the others stood out. Not necessarily a red flag--he could be awkward, he could be into Barnes, there could be any number of perfectly innocent explanations--but he made a mental note of it all the same. On Purge night or not, statistically people were far more likely to be murdered by someone they knew than by a stranger.

"Don’t worry about it. I'm not here to interfere with your work. Leo Barnes. It's nice to meet you, Bucky." He shook his hand, his gaze shifting briefly past him where the drummer was still lingering, possibly eavesdropping. "Can we take this discussion somewhere more private?" He wasn’t being paid to protect all of them, just Bucky, and he couldn’t yet rule out that the letters and stalking weren't happening from someone close to him. He gave the smallest nod to one of his team, knowing he would keep an eye on Davis while he spoke with Barnes and make sure he actually left the property.

The last minute rehearsal at Bucky's home had been the Davis’s idea, saying they needed a little more practice before they started their first country wide tour the following week. The drummer had been just short of demanding it; not at the studio or their practice space. It had to happen at the lead singer’s home. While he had been hesitant about it given what day it, Bucky had ultimately agreed to host the rehearsal with figuring the band would be gone hours before the purge sirens would go off.

Besides, the new bodyguard his manager hired was supposed to arrive during rehearsal. Between the questionable fan mail and the upcoming purge, his manager wanted to take no chances. Something about lead singers being hard to replace while guitarists and drummers were a dime a dozen. Though Bucky didn’t share the same belief, that the band was in some way divided into classes by their worth.

With the rehearsal finally coming to an end, Bucky headed upstairs after saying goodbye to his band mates and waving them off through the backdoor, Davis lingering for a moment to gather some of his things. At the top of the basement stairs, it was hard not to spot the man his band manager had hired waiting for him in the foyer.

“Sorry for the wait.” Bucky made long strides down the hall towards the body guard. “Phil said you would be coming by today but my drummer demanded one last rehearsal and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I hope you don’t mind Elena letting you in. She’s the housekeeper.” He held out his hand when he finally reached him. “Name is James Barnes but everyone calls me Bucky.”

@noheroessarge

[noheroessarge]

muse: Leo Barnes (The Purge) open to: 21+ only please / mutuals and non-mutuals / other canon horror muses, multifandom crossovers, OCs, whatever! triggers: canon-typical, including mentions of death/dead bodies, genocide, guns, violence, classism, racism, ableism, police, grief

21ST MARCH 2028

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

WEAPONS OF CLASS 4 AND LOWER HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR USE DURING THE PURGE. ALL OTHER WEAPONS ARE RESTRICTED.

GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF RANKING 10 HAVE BEEN GRANTED IMMUNITY FROM THE PURGE AND SHALL NOT BE HARMED.

ANY AND ALL CRIME, INCLUDING MURDER, WILL BE LEGAL FOR 12 CONTINUOUS HOURS.

POLICE, FIRE, AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES WILL BE UNAVAILABLE UNTIL 7AM WHEN THE PURGE CONCLUDES.

BLESSED BE OUR NEW FOUNDING FATHERS AND AMERICA, A NATION REBORN.

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

07:26:03 LEFT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE

― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ― ≛ ―

With one exception, Sarge had never cared for Purge night. It went against everything he'd sworn to do as a police officer. Protect and serve. It had been hard to argue with the results those first few years though because it seemed like it worked. Overall crime did go down in the country, and it stayed down. His job got easier. Then his world ended, and he believed in the Purge a lot. The Purge kept him going that whole first year. The Purge would get him the justice he'd never see in a courtroom. The Purge would set him free.

Yeah, grief could mess with a man's head like that. It wasn't until that night that he started to see it for what it was. Who was mostly likely to be a target. (Not him.) Who suffered the most on those nights. (Not him.) And who stood to benefit the most from things staying exactly as they were. (Not. Him.) It was unfairly stacked against people of color, people of low income, people who couldn't protect themselves. And, naturally, the New Founding Fathers liked it that way. Crime wasn't lower because people got to purge their darkest impulses once a year. It was lower because it cleared out all of society's "undesirables," and the government no longer had to pay to protect them. And when the Purge wasn't effective enough on its own, they sent their own people to help.

He would know.

He hadn't been able to stomach going back to the force after that night. He'd worked on the edges of private security for a couple years but hadn't yet decided if it was going to work out. Nobody needed a bodyguard more than on Purge night, and he wasn't quite willing to give this up. He'd been warned to stay out of it, warned not to play hero, but shit, it wasn't illegal. Nothing was tonight. The worst they could do was kill him, and that could happen just as easily if he was sitting at home as out here in the thick of it. (Maybe not just as easily. But he'd rather be a dead hero than a sitting duck.)

It wasn't that hard to tell the government Purgers from the regular population if you knew what you were looking for. They were better trained and better funded. Sure, you'd get the occasional rich asshole on a murder spree, with piles of fancy or custom weapons they had no fucking idea how to use, but more and more these days, the rich preferred to Purge in the privacy of their homes. Get someone old or sick or dying to come on Purge night, pay their family an enormous sum of money for their sacrifice, and never risk a damn thing. You could bet the government would be extra and trained. He fucking hated those semi-trucks with the automatic weapons in the back, take out a whole block at once like it was a goddamn genocide. (Wasn't it, in a way?)

He'd gotten lucky that first night. Few people had ever dared to fight back against that kind of weaponry. He'd caught them off guard. They were prepared now, but he was too. The explosion had knocked the semi on its side and left a crater in the street, and it was a chaos of gunfire and screaming. His team might not be well-funded or ex-military, but with a sniper rifle at that range, they didn't really have to be. There were plenty of people who hated the Purge even more than he did, and they were more than willing to hit back in any way they could. A little strategy, a little target practice, a little contracting, and you got this, a little street guerilla warfare.

When everyone with body armor, gas masks, and automatic weapons was on the ground, dead or dying, he stepped out from his cover but didn't holster his gun until it was clear he wasn't being shot at. Most of the people who had been hauled out of their tenement buildings to be slaughtered had already fled at the first opportunity, but a few had stayed behind, too shocked or injured to run. All of his team wore the same matte black mask, featureless and invisible in the shadows. It was an extra precaution; they'd already thrown out a signal jammer for the cameras. Everything might be legal on Purge night, but there were 364 other days in the year where "accidents" might happen to people who fought back.

He pushed it up to reveal his face as he knelt by a girl, maybe eight, frightened and bleeding. "Hey, it's alright. Can I have a look at that?" He nodded toward her arm, gently inspecting the three-inch gash in it, likely from being pushed to the ground. "It'll be okay. Hold it up like this to stop the bleeding. You got somewhere safe to go?" This he directed at the woman who had joined them. Mother, aunt, older sister? He had no idea. When she shook her head no, he produced a business card with a single address printed on it, no other information. "Memorize it. Head that way and take a left on 5th. There are weapons and medical supplies. You'll be safe there until morning." The card disappeared back into a pocket, and he nodded a goodbye as they started down the street. He needed to move too, before the next wave, before all the noise brought vultures of a different kind down on them.

It was instinct that had him pointing the gun before he even understood what the threat was or if there was one. He couldn't see clearly enough in the shadows of the alley to tell whether it was victim, threat, or something else entirely, but he hugged the building for cover and kept his aim steady.

"Come on out of there. Slowly."

[noheroessarge]

[noheroessarge]

THE PURGE | 1.04 "Release the Beast"

[noheroessarge]

The Purge: Election Year | Charlie & Leo 

[noheroessarge]

Frank Grillo starring as Sergeant Leo Barnes THE PURGE: ANARCHY | dir. James DeMonaco (2014)

[noheroessarge]

PROMPTS FOR BODYGUARDS AND VIPs *  adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

i told you to stay there.

it's my job to protect you.

i'll come with you.

i can't stand having someone follow me around all the time.

don't you have anything better to do than just stand there?

i don't need a bodyguard. i can take care of myself.

you won't even know i'm here.

you make me feel safe.

may i please come in?

if you need me, i'm right here.

i won't let anything happen to you.

we'll talk in the car.

stop sneaking away from me!

get behind me!

they think you need protecting.

your life is in danger. that's why i'm here.

don't call me that. my first name is fine.

maybe we should get to know each other, considering you're going to be around me all the time.

can you take me home?

i feel safe with you.

you're very intimidating, you know.

i'm just doing my job.

i don't think we're allowed to do that.

i'm not supposed to drink on the job.

stay with me. please.

i can be myself around you.

i don't see you as my bodyguard. i see you as a friend.

what if someone sees us?

i'll take extra precaution.

keep the paparazzi away from me.

i'm not used to the whole bodyguard thing.

i'm coming with you.

take my jacket. you're freezing.

i would lay down my life to protect you.

why do they think you need a bodyguard?

i didn't ask for this.

if anything happens, you get behind me. understand?

ACTION PROMPTS ( sender is assumed to be the bodyguard here. send 'reverse' for opposite )

[ limo ] sender rushes to the limo before receiver gets there and holds the door open for them, helping them climb inside with an outstretched hand

[ shield ] in the midst of danger, sender uses their body to shield and hide receiver behind them

[ escort ] sender escorts receiver to the door of a fancy party, offering their arm out to receiver to take

[ alone time ] sender and receiver are alone for the first time in receiver's room

[ eye contact ] across the busy room of a crowded event, sender makes eye contact with receiver

[ meet ] sender and receiver leave a crowded event and find a private space to talk

[ tearful ] sender comforts a crying receiver after a close call

[ paparazzi ] sender guides receiver through a crowd of photographers and screaming fans, keeping them safe from harm

[ award ] receiver mentions sender's name during an acceptance speech at an award show and finds them in the crowd

[ vacation ] sender accompanies receiver on a tropical vacation

[ drink ] alone together, receiver encourages sender to stop being so official, relax, and have a drink with them

[ explode ] sender and receiver fight about receiver needing a bodyguard in the first place

[ lecture ] sender lectures receiver about putting themselves in danger

[ dinner ] as receiver dines on a fancy dinner with other people, sender lingers in the room and keeps an eye on them

[ hug ] receiver rushes into sender's arms, seeking comfort from their bodyguard

[ locate ] receiver sneaks away from sender, and sender finally tracks them down

[ perform ] while receiver is on stage during a performance, they spot sender watching them backstage

[ accidental ] sender and receiver accidentally touch hands while reaching for the same thing

[ kiss ] hidden away from the cameras and noisy crowds, sender and receiver share a kiss

[noheroessarge]

Frank Grillo as Leo Barnes | Purge: Anarchy for @sparklingbinjuice

[noheroessarge]

Frank Grillo as Leo Barnes | Purge: Election Year

[noheroessarge]

[noheroessarge]

Frank Grillo as General Ryle in “Cosmic Sin”

[noheroessarge]

🖤@tosinwithagrin liked for a starter

21ST MARCH 2028

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EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM

WEAPONS OF CLASS 4 AND LOWER HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR USE DURING THE PURGE. ALL OTHER WEAPONS ARE RESTRICTED.

GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF RANKING 10 HAVE BEEN GRANTED IMMUNITY FROM THE PURGE AND SHALL NOT BE HARMED.

ANY AND ALL CRIME, INCLUDING MURDER, WILL BE LEGAL FOR 12 CONTINUOUS HOURS.

POLICE, FIRE, AND EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES WILL BE UNAVAILABLE UNTIL 7AM WHEN THE PURGE CONCLUDES.

BLESSED BE OUR NEW FOUNDING FATHERS AND AMERICA, A NATION REBORN.

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07:26:03 LEFT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE

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With one exception, Sarge had never cared for Purge night. It went against everything he'd sworn to do as a police officer. Protect and serve. It had been hard to argue with the results those first few years though because it seemed like it worked. Overall crime did go down in the country, and it stayed down. His job got easier. Then his world ended, and he believed in the Purge a lot. The Purge kept him going that whole first year. The Purge would get him the justice he'd never see in a courtroom. The Purge would set him free.

Yeah, grief could mess with a man's head like that. It wasn't until that night that he started to see it for what it was. Who was mostly likely to be a target. (Not him.) Who suffered the most on those nights. (Not him.) And who stood to benefit the most from things staying exactly as they were. (Not. Him.) It was unfairly stacked against people of color, people of low income, people who couldn't protect themselves. And, naturally, the New Founding Fathers liked it that way. Crime wasn't lower because people got to purge their darkest impulses once a year. It was lower because it cleared out all of society's "undesirables," and the government no longer had to pay to protect them. And when the Purge wasn't effective enough on its own, they sent their own people to help.

He would know.

He hadn't been able to stomach going back to the force after that night. He'd worked on the edges of private security for a couple years but hadn't yet decided if it was going to work out. Nobody needed a bodyguard more than on Purge night, and he wasn't quite willing to give this up. He'd been warned to stay out of it, warned not to play hero, but shit, it wasn't illegal. Nothing was tonight. The worst they could do was kill him, and that could happen just as easily if he was sitting at home as out here in the thick of it. (Maybe not just as easily. But he'd rather be a hero than a sitting duck.)

It wasn't that hard to tell the government Purgers from the regular population if you knew what you were looking for. They were better trained and better funded. Sure, you'd get the occasional rich asshole on a murder spree, with piles of fancy or custom weapons they had no fucking idea how to use, but more and more these days, the rich preferred to Purge in the privacy of their homes. Get someone old or sick or dying to come on Purge night, pay their family an enormous sum of money for their sacrifice, and never risk a damn thing. You could bet the government would be extra and trained. He fucking hated those semi-trucks with the automatic weapons in the back, take out a whole block at once like it was a goddamn genocide. (Wasn't it, in a way?)

He'd gotten lucky that first night. Few people had ever dared to fight back against that kind of weaponry. He'd caught them off guard. They were prepared now, but he was too. The explosion had knocked the semi on its side and left a crater in the street, and it was a chaos of gunfire and screaming. His team might not be well-funded or ex-military, but with a sniper rifle at that range, they didn't really have to be. There were plenty of people who hated the Purge even more than he did, and they were more than willing to hit back in any way they could. A little strategy, a little target practice, a little contracting, and you got this, a little street guerilla warfare.

When everyone with body armor, gas masks, and automatic weapons was on the ground, dead or dying, he stepped out from his cover but didn't holster his gun until it was clear he wasn't being shot at. Most of the people who had been hauled out of their tenement buildings to be slaughtered had already fled at the first opportunity, but a few had stayed behind, too shocked or injured to run. All of his team wore the same matte black mask, featureless and invisible in the shadows. It was an extra precaution; they'd already thrown out a signal jammer for the cameras. Everything might be legal on Purge night, but there were 364 other days in the year where "accidents" might happen to people who fought back.

He pushed it up to reveal his face as he knelt by a girl, maybe eight, frightened and bleeding. "Hey, it's alright. Can I have a look at that?" He nodded toward her arm, gently inspecting the three-inch gash in it, likely from being pushed to the ground. "It'll be okay. Hold it up like this to stop the bleeding. You got somewhere safe to go?" This he directed at the woman who had joined them. Mother, aunt, older sister? He had no idea. When she shook her head no, he produced a business card with a single address printed on it, no other information. "Memorize it. Head that way and take a left on 5th. There are weapons and medical supplies. You'll be safe there until morning." The card disappeared back into a pocket, and he nodded a goodbye as they started down the street. He needed to move too, before the next wave, before all the noise brought vultures of a different kind down on them.

[noheroessarge]

@defectivexfragmented

A decade of Purge nights, and it was strange to think that kids growing up now had never known life without it. As a cop, Leo had never been particularly in favor of it, although at first it had seemed to follow through on its promise. Crime rates had been down those first few years, and they'd continued to go down as people seemingly got all their aggression out on one night. Then, of course, he'd had his own reasons for believing in that night, had spent almost an entire year planning to avenge his son's death.

It was only after he'd spared Nicholas's killer that he started to see just why the Purge worked so well, and it wasn't because people got to let their worst impulses out for a night. He was no hero, couldn't save everyone. What you got for being a hero was a bullet in the chest. But he couldn't do nothing. Private security paid well all year round, not just on Purge night, and it paid better every year since he'd started to gain a reputation for being damn good at it. A lot of that money went into protecting people who couldn't afford it otherwise. What the fuck was he going to do with all of it?

He'd given a fake name at the intercom, and a different one to every person he'd spoken to since, and not a single one had tried to stop him from getting inside. In other words, the security was a fucking joke, and access to Bucky Barnes was all too easy. If he'd walked in there to kill him, he would have been dead. He might not have gotten out so easily, but still, dead was a problem. It was easy to pick him out among the rest of the staff, even if he hadn't been familiar with his work, Leo's dark eyes piercing even from across the room. He was a few minutes early for their meeting, so there was no need to interrupt the rehearsal.