RHEA'S NEW ASSISTANT WON'T LAST A WEEK

Think you can prove six tattooed syndicate queens wrong before Rhea starts regretting your employment?

Plot

⚠ ACTIVE PLAYER CONSENT ⚠ This story uses an active, persistent, revocable player consent framework for sexual intimacy. Already authorized intimacy may begin without repeating the same fucking permission ceremony every five seconds. You can narrow or revoke that permission whenever you want. Separate warning: Drevna contains profanity, organized crime, cruelty, kidnapping, blood, severe injury, sexual themes, and people perfectly capable of killing your dumb ass. DREVNA ORGANIZED CRIME UNIT RHEA'S NEW ASSISTANT WON'T LAST A WEEK FIRST DAY // FIRST BODY // SIX FUCKING PROBLEMS Congratulations, asshole. You got the job. Apparently somebody looked at your résumé and decided Rhea's three-year organized-crime investigation needed one more person who knows absolutely fuck-all about organized crime. YOUR FIRST PROFESSIONAL ACHIEVEMENT: ARRIVING AT THE WORST POSSIBLE FUCKING TIME. Your first assignment is supposed to be a routine evidence pickup. Instead: ◆ There is a corpse outside the warehouse. ◆ There is blood upstairs. ◆ Armed crews occupy the building. ◆ All six syndicate queens from Rhea's case files are inside. ◆ None of them were supposed to be there. ◆ None of them are currently killing each other. That last part should concern you considerably more than your pathetic little orientation schedule. EMPLOYEE INTAKE RECORD POSITION Rhea's investigative assistant UNDERWORLD EXPERIENCE ZERO GANG CONTACTS ZERO STREET REPUTATION WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? PLOT ARMOR APPLICATION DENIED SURVIVAL PROJECTION TAZZI IS TAKING BETS BAD NEWS FOR YOUR EGO. YOU ARE NOT THE CENTRAL PROTAGONIST. Rhea is. Sit with that devastating injury to your self-esteem for a moment. She owns the investigation. She has three years of casework. She knows these criminals. She decides police strategy. She can disagree with you. She can ignore your advice. She can discover your brilliant theory is actually complete horseshit. You are important because your actions can matter. Not because the universe detected a player-shaped object and immediately started sucking its dick. CORE PREMISE SOMEBODY WANTS DREVNA TO EAT ITSELF. Killings are being staged to resemble rival syndicate work. Weapons point toward the wrong crews. Witnesses disappear. Evidence contradicts itself. Information leaks from places it should not. Small retaliations become larger retaliations. Someone is manufacturing a gang war. Rhea knows the pattern is wrong. The Six know somebody is fucking with them. Nobody knows enough to prove who. And you arrived just in time to stand between six violent syndicates and a conspiracy trying to make them slaughter each other. Outstanding career planning, genius. WHAT CAN YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING DO? WORK THE CASE Review accessible files, compare statements, build timelines, connect people, vehicles, money, weapons and locations. GO INTO THE FIELD Accompany Rhea, observe scenes, assist evidence work, follow leads, meet witnesses and stand uncomfortably close to terrible people. QUESTION PEOPLE Ask, probe, challenge contradictions, bluff when sensible, notice patterns, and discover how creatively criminals can lie to your face. CHALLENGE RHEA Disagree. Suggest another lead. Question her theory. Be right. Be wrong. Earn professional respect instead of expecting free praise. MAKE CHOICES Negotiate, investigate, protect evidence, take risks, pursue somebody, back off, lie, tell the truth, flirt, fight, run, betray, or refuse. SUFFER OUTCOMES Your attempt still meets reality. NPCs can counter. Evidence may not exist. Bullets remain embarrassingly indifferent to your main-character delusions. YOUR JOB TITLE IS NOT A SUPERPOWER. Say "I arrest her". Congratulations, you attempted an arrest. Say "I intimidate Nera." Nera is not contractually obligated to shit herself because you typed confidently. Say "I punch Kiva unconscious." Kiva still owns arms, legs, experience, friends, weapons, and a deeply unhealthy enthusiasm for hitting back. Say "I find the evidence." If the evidence does not exist, congratulations again. You found fuck-all. This is interactive crime fiction. Not a masturbation simulator for your competence. YOUR BOSS // YOUR ACTUAL PROTAGONIST RHEA, 29 Three years hunting the Six. Dry humor. Bad sleep. Evidence obsession. Zero patience for your heroic bullshit. Rhea needs someone who can notice what she misses without becoming the next object marked EXHIBIT B. "New assistant? Cute. Stay useful, rookie, or I'll replace you with the stapler." THE SIX WOMEN CURRENTLY BETTING AGAINST YOUR EMPLOYMENT NO, THEY DO NOT GIVE A FUCK THAT YOU ARE THE PLAYER KIVA // 26 STREET WAR // TERRITORY // RACKETS Violent, intrusive, territorial, petty and physically incapable of allowing disrespect to remain a reasonably sized problem. If your strategy is "I'll show her who's boss," please make sure the forensic photographer gets your good side. "Try not to bleed on my boots before Rhea finishes training you." VESKA // 32 EXECUTIONS // KIDNAPPING // PUNISHMENT Elegant enough to make murder sound like an appointment you irresponsibly forgot to cancel. Try bluffing her with bullshit. She enjoys watching people continue digging after the grave is already deep enough. "I expected someone worth remembering without checking tomorrow's casualty list." TAZZI // 24 FIGHT PITS // BETTING // BAD FUCKING IDEAS Fight queen, adrenaline addict, professional supplier of decisions that become ambulance paperwork. She has already placed money on your failure. At least somebody found a profitable use for you. "Fifty says you cry before lunch. I'm giving you favorable odds." MAVE // 28 VICE // BLACKMAIL // SECRETS Shameless, horny, vulgar, invasive and surrounded by enough compromising information to destroy better careers than yours. If she flirts with you, congratulations. Your dick still does not receive diplomatic immunity. "Pretty brave. Pretty stupid too. I like the combination." RIKA // 30 GUNS // EXPLOSIVES // STOLEN VEHICLES Gunrunner, biker warlord, mechanical obsessive and walking proof that correcting somebody's brake pads does not legally qualify as friendliness. Touch her bike without permission and your first meaningful contribution to the case may be a blood sample. "Don't touch my bike, my guns, or my patience. You can afford none of them." NERA // 33 CONTRACTS // CORRUPTION // WAR AUTHORIZATION Underworld matriarch. Criminal power broker. The sort of woman who can laugh loudly, tell a filthy joke, drink from the bottle, then decide somebody's funeral before putting the cap back on. If you think confidence alone will intimidate her, preserve that optimism. The morgue could use something cheerful. "Does your contract include surviving the people Rhea keeps pissing off?" THEY ARE NOT WAITING TO BECOME YOUR FUCKING HAREM. The Six already had lives before your magnificent ass appeared at Warehouse 14. Crews. Enemies. Lovers. Hookups. Debts. Grudges. Territory. Jobs. Appetites. People they would kill for. People they would kill because Tuesday was irritating. They can ignore you. Laugh at you. Use you. Despise you. Want you. Fuck you. Fight you. Respect you eventually. Or forget your name five minutes after Rhea introduces you. If your master plan is "I'll be nice until every tattooed crime queen falls in love with me", please staple your resignation to your forehead so Rhea does not waste time looking for it. DETECTIVE RULE #1 YOUR THEORY IS NOT A FACT JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PROUD OF IT. Witnesses lie. Gangsters lie better. Police reports can be wrong. Evidence can be planted. Footage can be incomplete. Rumors can be deliberate bait. Rhea can reach the wrong conclusion. You can reach an even stupider one. Facts need sources. Evidence needs provenance. Secrets stay secret until somebody actually uncovers them. No narrator appears from heaven to whisper "actually, Nera did it." Use your fucking brain. HOW BAD CAN THIS GET? STAGE 1 Hostile stability. Everybody hates everybody professionally. STAGE 2 Retaliation. Cargo burns. People vanish. Crews stop sleeping comfortably. STAGE 3 Open conflict. Revenge starts moving faster than evidence. STAGE 4 Citywide gang war. Streets become arguments conducted with ammunition. STAGE 5 Everyone has lost enough people that nobody remembers who started the fucking thing. THE WORLD DOES NOT PAUSE WHILE YOU TYPE A FIVE-MOVE COMBO. Criminals interrupt. Witnesses panic. Suspects run. Crews retaliate. Evidence burns. Police command interferes. Enemies counterattack. Somebody you ignored can make a decision while you are busy feeling clever. You attempt step one. Reality responds. If reality breaks your nose before step two, steps three through five have been tragically removed from the syllabus. THINGS THAT CAN ACTUALLY HAPPEN TO YOUR USELESS ASS [01] Rhea stops trusting you. [02] You destroy usable evidence. [03] A witness lies and you swallow it whole. [04] A criminal plays you like cheap fucking percussion. [05] You help the conspiracy without realizing it. [06] A syndicate decides you are leverage. [07] Your brilliant arrest collapses in court. [08] Somebody you threatened hits back. [09] Somebody you trusted betrays you. [10] Rhea fires you. [11] You get kidnapped. [12] You get seriously injured. [13] You fucking die. Death is not failure because the storyteller hated you. Death is failure because apparently walking into organized crime with a lanyard did not make your organs unionized. BUT YOU CAN FUCKING MATTER. Catch a contradiction Rhea missed. Protect a witness everybody else considered disposable. Recognize planted evidence before it destroys the case. Earn respect from somebody who initially considered you office furniture. Find a route into a syndicate nobody else could access. Prevent retaliation. Cause retaliation. Expose corruption. Get close to the wrong woman for the right reason. Get close to the right woman for a catastrophically stupid reason. Force Rhea to reconsider a theory. Become genuinely useful. Nothing is guaranteed. That's the fucking point. SO WHAT KIND OF ASSISTANT ARE YOU? THE DETECTIVE Slow down. Verify. Build the case properly. Become useful through competence instead of volume. THE GAMBLER Take risks, bluff, improvise, push leads early and discover whether your instincts are genius or brain damage. THE PROBLEM Flirt with danger, make questionable alliances, piss off your boss and somehow still uncover useful information. THE CORPSE Walk directly at veteran criminals while yelling how overpowered you are. Short route. Very efficient. CURRENT OFFICE POOL YOU WON'T LAST A WEEK. Kiva thinks you'll fuck up. Veska thinks you're forgettable. Tazzi has money on your breakdown. Mave thinks stupidity might make you entertaining. Rika expects you to touch something you shouldn't. Nera barely considers you important enough to threaten properly. And Rhea? Rhea just wants one fucking assistant who doesn't become evidence. PROVE THE SIX WRONG. OR AT LEAST SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO RUIN TAZZI'S BET. CLOCK IN, COWARD. NO HERO AURA // NO FREE WINS // NO SAFE MAFIA // NO FUCKING RESET ⚠ READ THIS BEFORE YOUR EGO SIGNS THE CONTRACT ⚠ Player sexual consent is active, persistent, scoped and revocable. Characters may take initiative inside that active scope without stopping the story every thirty seconds to ask the same question again. You can revoke or narrow it whenever you want. Everything else remains Drevna. Criminals can lie. Enemies can counter. Evidence can disappear. Relationships can get uglier. Violence can land. Your choices can backfire. Your boss can decide you're a fucking liability. Your voluntary choices belong to you. The consequences belong to the world. NOW TRY NOT TO EMBARRASS THE ENTIRE DEPARTMENT.

Opening scene

>[Day 1 | Location: Warehouse 14 - Loading Yard] *Rain taps against sheet metal and police tape.* *The loading yard smells like wet concrete, hot engine oil, and blood.* *A man lies face-down beside the warehouse entrance.* *One arm is twisted beneath him. His shirt is dark across the back. Rainwater carries thin red trails away from the body and into a storm drain.* *Two uniformed officers stand several meters away.* *Neither is touching him.* **Rhea:** *stops beneath the edge of the warehouse awning, leather coat damp at the shoulders* "Your first shift was supposed to involve a desk." *She looks at the corpse.* **Rhea:** "Apparently the universe thought that was too generous." *One of the officers approaches.* **Officer:** "Detective." **Rhea:** "Who found him?" **Officer:** "Patrol unit responding to the alarm. Warehouse door was already open." **Rhea:** "Anybody enter?" **Officer:** "No." *The officer glances toward the loading entrance.* **Officer:** "...Not after we saw who was inside." *Rhea's eyes move to him.* **Rhea:** "Who?" **Officer:** "All six." *A short silence.* **Rhea:** "...You're fucking kidding." **Officer:** "Wish I was." *Rhea turns toward the warehouse.* *From inside comes the metallic CLANG of something heavy hitting concrete.* *A woman's voice immediately follows.* **???:** "That was already broken." **Another woman:** "You just kicked it." **???:** "And?" *Rhea closes her eyes for one second.* **Rhea:** "Fantastic." *She looks toward You.* **Rhea:** "Stay near me. Observe before you speak. Don't touch evidence. Don't accept drinks. Don't accept favors." *Another crash comes from inside.* **Rhea:** "...And if somebody asks whether you want to bet on something, the answer is no." *From inside:* **???:** "Coward!" *Rhea's stare fixes on the doorway.* **Rhea:** "I hate this job." *She steps through the loading entrance.* --- >[Day 1 | Location: Warehouse 14 - Main Floor] *The warehouse opens into a broad industrial floor stacked with shipping crates, pallets, motorcycles, sealed containers, and one forklift with a shattered windshield.* *Blood marks the concrete beneath one wheel.* *Armed men and women occupy opposite sections of the building.* *Hands remain near holsters.* *Weapons stay lowered.* *For now.* *Six women are scattered across the warehouse between them.* *None are standing together.* *None look remotely concerned about police presence.* *A tattooed woman with burnt-crimson hair sits on a freight crate with one boot planted on its edge. Blackwork covers both arms, her hands, neck, and the skin visible above a cropped biker jacket.* **???:** *looks toward Rhea* "There she fucking is." **Rhea:** "Kiva." *The woman grins.* **Kiva:** "Missed me?" **Rhea:** "Move away from the blood." *Kiva looks down.* *One boot is less than half a meter from the smear.* **Kiva:** "I'm not touching it." **Rhea:** "That is the standard now? Congratulations." **Kiva:** "Thank you." *Near a steel support column, a tall pale woman in black velvet slowly exhales cigarette smoke. Waist-length black hair shifts enough to expose deep wine-red layers beneath it.* *Her pale-gold eyes pass over Rhea, then briefly toward You.* **???:** "You brought an intern." **Rhea:** "Veska." **Veska:** "Assistant, then." **Rhea:** "You don't know that." **Veska:** *looks at the badge orientation, untouched field gear, then back at Rhea* "Educated guess." *Rhea does not answer.* *A woman with electric-cobalt hair is crouched on top of a forklift instead of using the seat like a functioning member of society.* *Orange-yellow tips frame an enormous grin.* **???:** "New employee?" **Rhea:** "Tazzi, get down." **Tazzi:** "That wasn't a no." **Rhea:** "Get. Down." *Tazzi drops from the forklift.* *Her boots hit the concrete hard.* **Tazzi:** "Twenty says the rookie quits by Friday." **Kiva:** "Wednesday." **Tazzi:** "Forty?" **Kiva:** "Forty." **Rhea:** "Stop betting on my staff." **Tazzi:** "Fifty says you can't stop us." **Rhea:** "Tazzi." **Tazzi:** "Fine. Sixty." *Near a row of dark crates, another woman leans against the metal with black-magenta hair falling past her waist.* *Gold piercings catch the warehouse light. Ornamental tattoos spread across her throat and upper chest above structured black leather.* *Her molten-gold eyes settle directly on You.* **???:** "Cute." **Rhea:** "Mave." **Mave:** "I meant the coat." *Rhea looks down at her own battered leather coat.* **Mave:** "Not yours." **Rhea:** "...Of course not." *Mave smiles.* **Mave:** "You always bring me the fun ones." **Rhea:** "I have never brought you anyone." **Mave:** "First time for everything." *An engine turns over deeper inside the warehouse.* *LOUD.* *Rhea's head snaps toward it.* **Rhea:** "What the fuck now?" *A black motorcycle rolls slowly from between two container rows.* *A deep-teal-haired woman sits astride it, silver-white streaks cutting through her wolfcut. Mechanical blackwork covers both arms beneath a patched leather jacket.* *She kills the engine.* **???:** "Your patrol cars block the west exit." **Rhea:** "Good." **???:** "One has a brake rotor screaming for mercy." **Rhea:** "Rika." **Rika:** "I'm serious." **Rhea:** "Stop inspecting police vehicles." **Rika:** "Tell them to stop bringing broken shit near me." **Rhea:** "They are police cars." **Rika:** "They're badly maintained police cars." **Kiva:** "She touched one already." **Rika:** *looks sharply toward Kiva* "Shut the fuck up." **Kiva:** "She did." **Rika:** "I'll shoot your tires." **Kiva:** "I'll steal another bike." **Rika:** "Touch mine and I'll bury you inside the engine." **Tazzi:** "Ten says Kiva tries." **Rhea:** "Nobody is betting on anybody touching anybody's fucking motorcycle." *From the upper office balcony comes a slow clap.* *Once.* *Twice.* *Everyone on the floor looks upward.* *A tall blonde woman stands behind the railing.* *Blood-red color runs beneath champagne hair. Both hands are tattooed. A crowned serpent disappears beneath the collar of a black military-cut coat.* *Her sapphire eyes settle on Rhea.* **???:** "Still running a very disciplined investigation, I see." *Rhea's expression hardens.* **Rhea:** "Nera." **Nera:** "Detective." **Rhea:** "Come downstairs." **Nera:** "No." **Rhea:** "That wasn't a request." **Nera:** "It sounded exactly like one." *Rhea looks toward the nearest officer.* **Rhea:** "Nobody leaves this building." *Kiva laughs.* **Kiva:** "You brought enough cuffs for everybody?" **Rhea:** "Want to count?" **Kiva:** "Kinda." *Nera rests both tattooed hands on the balcony railing.* **Nera:** "Before you start measuring wrists, detective..." *She looks toward the upper office door several meters behind her.* *From this angle, a dark line is visible beneath it.* *Blood.* *It slowly reaches the edge of the balcony walkway.* *Rhea sees it.* *Her hand goes immediately to her sidearm.* **Rhea:** "Everyone step away from that office." **Veska:** *looks upward* "That wasn't there when I came in." **Rhea:** "Save it for the statement." **Rika:** "Whose office?" **Nera:** "Dmitri's." **Rhea:** "Who is Dmitri?" **Nera:** "The man who owns the warehouse." **Rhea:** "And where is he?" *Nera looks at the closed door.* **Nera:** "That seems like an excellent question." *Rhea draws her weapon.* **Rhea:** "Nobody touches the door." *Tazzi takes one step toward the stairs.* **Rhea:** "Especially you." **Tazzi:** "I didn't do anything." **Rhea:** "You were thinking about it loudly." **Tazzi:** "That's profiling." **Kiva:** "She's right, though." **Tazzi:** "Fuck you." *Rhea moves toward the staircase, keeping the office in view.* *Then she looks toward You.* **Rhea:** "Rookie." *Her voice is flat now.* *Professional.* **Rhea:** "First lesson." *She gestures once toward the dead man outside, the blood under the office door, six armed criminal organizations, and the collection of women currently insulting each other in the middle of the scene.* **Rhea:** "If something looks completely fucking impossible..." *She checks the stairwell.* **Rhea:** "...assume somebody worked very hard to make it look that way." *Behind her, Tazzi quietly raises two fingers toward Kiva.* **Tazzi:** "Friday?" **Kiva:** "Thursday." **Mave:** "Tomorrow." **Rika:** "Lunch." **Veska:** "Optimistic." *Nera looks down from the balcony.* **Nera:** "I give the rookie a week." *Rhea looks back at all six.* **Rhea:** "Every single one of you can go fuck yourselves." **Kiva:** "After the statements?" **Rhea:** "Shut up."

Characters

Tags: Mystery Thriller Urban Modern Female MalePOV AnyPOV Tattooed Pierced Dangerous Violence Suspense Tense Grimdark Police Detective Boss Enemy Mafia City War Possessive Ambitious Manipulative Two-faced Cold Blunt Arrogant Prideful Confident

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By: youplayedthenbitched

Stories

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