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thehill-rpg · 8 months ago

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Episode 1: The Hill

Printers warring, contact numbers hurled across the room like insults, folders being slapped down; the buzz of the office was as it always was come Monday morning. Journalists who detested early mornings, or working all together, acted like there was nowhere else they’d rather be, and bosses, tenser than usual, found themselves in what looked like a heated debate: no doubt over a story they’d missed or a scandal in legal that someone would get chewed out about. However, they kept drawing everyone’s eye that morning, in the way they stood, clustered closely together, talking in hushed, urgent whispers.

The smell of fresh coffee, mixed with the phones ringing off the hook and the clamor of people as they wove in and out of each other. People unaccustomed to the atmosphere might consider it mere madness. Loud wasn’t even the right word. It was raucous.

At a desk, front and center of the lion's dens, sat Violet Shard. Political Senior Journalist.

She could feel her head pounding. The bar last night may have been one step too far.

Squinting, she peered at the blazing computer screen, scrolling as written information rolled as fast as she could read. A woman’s blacked out name appeared multiple times throughout the email, her source name redacted. It was one of the most important things to Violet: that her sources could trust that she’d keep their identity safe–if she didn’t keep her word, was she any better than the politicians she brought down? Her fingers moved over the keyboard with rapid fervor, even with the fog clouding the edges of her mind. She hadn’t even had a chance to read the morning paper when she’d dashed out of bed.

Almost late.

She shouldn’t have done the last five shots. Even at the age of forty-five, Violet Shard had never shied away from a party. Especially one that had gotten her access and close to new electives. What had meant to be an early night had turned into one full of spilled dirty secrets.

But those were shelved, at least for now, to which she began typing back quickly, checking over her shoulder.

Friend, I think we should meet for another tennis match. The last one was a success. Only by playing another match will one realize its full potential. Can you confirm when you’re free? Violet.

Pressing send, she exited quickly. Code was better than saying too much.

With the article on Congress Whitlock and Congress Harris now out in the world, there was only a matter of time before it came back to bite them in the ass. There was no way they could let something that blasphemous stay out in the world like that. Which Violet was aware meant one of two things: one, they’d pay for them to take it down, which she prayed they’d never agree to? Or they silenced them, burying them under the law. Which, by the look of their cluster, might be exactly what was happening.

The article had been titled: Congress or Corruption? The people vs. Whitlock & Harris.

Once Violet had published the article, prime time on a Friday evening. Well, it had been up in arms across all journals, blogs and news sites across the states, leaking into media around the world by the following day. Discussing the purchasing and profiteering of war in neighboring countries was what American’s liked to believe as a myth in their country. But it was those men that they put their belief and power into that were disgracing this once very great country. Guns, food, medicine: essentials, hiked up in price so those in lower socio income lives would suffer, while the rich would profit.

It was an age old tale, and Violet Shard was done being a bystander.

On top of the current infamy and praise leaking through her inbox, there was a new bill being passed next week that she had to get on top of, as well as arranging a phone call with her source to go over any further information. With the increased monitoring from hackers and the government, conversations with her sources, or discussions were now limited over emails. She wasn’t a conspiracy theorist, well, not exactly. Hers pertained to what she knew: politics, people and the dirt that lined the streets of Washington, D.C. But it meant she was alert and aware.

And in her line of work, being aware meant she was one step ahead.

Violet had never been a fool to what was going on right beneath their noses: scandal, lies and corruption. Rampant, hidden, and embedded in every part of this godforsaken city.

“Shard, I need that report in twenty minutes,” Rick, an intern tasked with proof reading everything, called from her left.

“Bet you fifteen bucks I can get it done in ten.” She yelled back, a grin flashing across her mouth.

“Shard’s making bets, Eric.” Another intern to someone else. How she’d ever remember their names, she didn’t fucking know. But for now, she’d call him bouffant because, kid, that hairstyle went out years ago. Why was no one telling him?

“I’d bet more, but we all know Rick still asks his mother for pocket money,” Violet grinned.

If the room had been loud before, the hollering that followed had others turning heads.

“You got yourself a deal.” Rick clapped, those surrounding clapped, egging them on further.

It was a quick reminder of why she loved the job so much, why she’d always felt such a deep connection to this room in particular. Journalists might have been cut-throat, and willing to climb over just about anyone to get that next story, but at the end of the day – there was a sense of sibling rivalry here. Even if you felt bummed because you missed out on a prime slot. Secretly, they were happy for the person who got the story.

In nine minutes, and thirty-six seconds, not a sweat broken, Violet pressed send on the email, the sound of a gentle swoosh and the report was at Rick’s desk. From the corner of her eye, she saw him still, like a mouse caught in a trap. Slowly, turning in her chair to face him, her arms folded over her chest in that smug ease.

“Mother–” Rick started, staring at his computer in disbelief.

“I wiped your bet clean off the table, in under ten minutes–” Violet was interrupted mid-sentence.

The room went silent.

“Ms Shard.” A crisp male voice spoke from behind her.

That voice, she quickly realized, came from no one she knew. Brows drawing together in confusion, she felt the hairs begin to rise on the back of her neck. That loud, familiar clamor of the office had quieted down to a dull murmur. It was in that slow turn, catching each pair of gleaning eyes in the office, that she realized whoever was behind her wasn’t someone she would want to see.

It wasn’t corporate, and it sure as hell wasn’t the press, which meant…

Of-fucking-course.

Congressman Whitlock and Congressman Harris had finally had enough of the constant press at their heels after they’d published the deal. She’d expected flack for it, but this? Four police officers, dressed to the nines, stood in their imposing, statuesque bull-shit power tripping stance, cuffs out like she was a serial killer they’d tracked down after a month’s long manhunt.

Hands found her hips instantly, splashing that Shard Facade.

Bravo, she internally commended their theatrics, she was in her right mind to start clapping.

“Boys,” Violet cooed, a false pout pulling at her lip. “Are we really going to do this? It’s a Monday morning and I’ve got a hangover from one too many tequila shots.” She knew they would, it wasn’t the first time she’d had scrapes with the law, especially in her earlier years. She wouldn’t have been a great journalist if she didn’t, but the fact they’d gone for the throat so quickly?

It meant they were scared. And scared people made mistakes.

“Ms Shard, you’re under arrest for excessive defamation and harassment.” Cop one stated, unfortunate looking with a comb-over that screamed…do you ever want to get laid?

“Harassment?” Violet scoffed, a snort slipping out. “Oh, you’ve gotta’ be kidding me. Isn’t this America? Land of the free? Freedom of Speech? I’m not physically attacking people, I’m highlighting corruption. But I guess the MPD wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”

“Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Using his hand in a circular motion. “turn around, place your hands behind your back, miss, we’d prefer to do this the easy way.” As opposed to the hard way, she thought, eyes sliding to all the onlookers.

“Fine. Fine.” The more she struggled, the worse she’d look.

Turning, hands behind her back with only a smidgen of embarrassment coloring her cheeks, it clicked when she found all the managers watching her with that same expression. Pity. They’d known. In all honesty, Violet wasn’t sure whether to feel betrayed that they hadn’t given her a heads up, or thankful that they might’ve been trying to find a solution.

Either way, being arrested never looked good for their image, and what was a business without a great image.

“You have the right to remain silent.” The usual spiel began, but she attempted to drown it out as she felt the cold metal clasp around the soft of her wrist. “Anything you say will and can be used against you in a court of law.” It was like everyone she’d ever heard on those bad cop shows that her mother had loved so much when she was growing up. “You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have a right to a lawyer, ”

“Yeah, I know. Can someone call Jason and tell him I was arrested…again.” Chucking a glance over her shoulder, catching the Interns who looked the most genuinely concerned than those she’d worked with for years.. “Rick, pick up my jobs?”

“Yeah, course.”

Where the fuck was Ajay?

“Oh, and Rick?” Violet called, as the cops began walking her towards the elevator.

“Yeah?” He called, standing on his tiptoes like that might add to his height.

“You owe me fifteen bucks.”

#first episode: the hill #writer: admin donna #feat. violet shard #recurring feat. eric dobson #recurring feat. ricky greaves #location: the hill

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