x_Cooper_x
Bust :(
The year is 1920, the roaring twenties. The height in what you could call the Art Deco style. The vision of the world was consumed by over the top architecture. It bled into the clothes, the way the cars were build. In the middle of this all steel ruled the world and the factory was the heart beat of most city landscapes, hard work was the life source, its need, its way to return into a normal setting once again. Two years before the great world war ended. It was known as the war that killed a generation. Men, boys and woman were sent into the heart of a war that no one really understood. It was a situation that ravaged the population. It was nothing anyone had ever witnessed or knew how to approach. Not many returned as it turned out to be one of the most devastating losses of young life ever. Still then those who returned did not returned all the same. Life changed in the blink of an eye, so what happens to a person who sees hell on earth and then is expected to return to a normal life. For some, the few and lucky life was as easy to pick up as before. For others it was as foreign a the land they had left.
"Cooper!" A voiced called
"Cooper! Cooper!!"
With a lunge forward a man found himself sitting straight up on his bed. His hands were shaking, his heart was thumping hard against his chest and sweat pearled on his brow. The room was dark as he struggled to adjust to the dark. His breath was stressed as he tried to stop his hands from the trembles. They found their way to his chest where a chain hugged his neck. At the bottom on the chain were tags, three army tags. Once safely in his hands his breath and heart began to calm down. Thats when he realized how hot the room was at the moment. His mouth was dry. His lips and tongue smacked together a few times trying to work moisture but to no avail. The man pulled the sheet from his legs, a pool of cold sweat marked the sheets as he swung his legs over the bed onto the flood. The necklace swinging before settling back into place against his bare chest.
"Hell" His voice was cracked from the dehydration.
With a small grown he stood up. His boxer shorts stuck to his legs as he walked to a window with the curtains drawn. He reached out and pulled them back to be met with a bright shining sun spilling into the dark room. He shielded his face with his forearm as the light burned his tired eyes. He took a few steps back as he almost fell back into bed.
"Damn it!"
The light slowly started to subside as his eyes adjusted to the light now. The once dark room was clearly visible. He was a small studio apartment with brick walls. The bathroom was behind the bed and the living area was spilling into the bedroom separated by a line with a few suits and shirts. The twin size bed looked like it had seen better days, lumps were complimented with a few springs coming from the sides. Next to the bed was a small night stand with a blown out candle and a empty bottle. There was literally nothing much to the small apartment, much like the man living there.
The man had made his way into the bathroom, the mirror was cracked with a fist impression but mainly still intact. The man looking into it was Michael Ralph Cooper. A 24 year old, dark hair, grey eyed man with the looks of a worn down individual. His face was clean shaven, but there was an age that was deeper then skin. His eyes were a pale color, a ghost of what they once were. The bottle back on the nightstand was an aid in that. The water was running as he splashed the cold water on his face to wake up. The chill felt good, the sound of the pipes echoed in the room. It spattered a bit as he knew someone else was using the water as well. He sighed as he turned off the faucet, the noise eased a bit. He took a moment as he stairs blankly for a moment at himself. His features were a little jagged, his jaw was squared off, his hair line parted to one side and brow smooth. His nose was the most slightly off center, an old broken nose. He was very much still in shape, but scares lined his body. One star shaped puncher wound rested above his heart, thats the one he was staring at for a moment. He didn't realize he was rubbing it until the scar tissue became sore. He sighed again as he turned his eyes in the reflection, it was of the window and of a large sky scraper in the distance. A very large clock clicking away, the time is what got his attention. It was quarter to seven, he had to close his eyes before coming to the realization he was going to be late.
It was fifteen minutes later before he was at the bottom of his building. The halls were large, and became larger as he approached the street. The doors were heavy as the steel took some muscle to open, they gave a squeak as he opened them to the world around him
The world was already beginning to come to life as people were starting to pour out of neighboring buildings into the square that led to the rail cars. Cooper stood at the door way as he tightened his tie closer to his neck, the white collar folded into position. It popped against the dark suit he wore. The heat would be enough for him to feel it, but maybe the breeze would keep it at bay. He put his hand in his coat pocket as he searched, he pulled out a gold lighter and a pack of cigarets. He put one against his lips as he lit it and pulled a drag. Something else come along with the pack, he pulled his hand down to see a card. His card.
M. Cooper
Private eye
1418 Broadway
{ooc: Hi, this might seem a little rusty but I hope to fall back into it. Please enjoy and jump in, if you have questions message me. Thanks}
