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Alias: Ruth
Age: 33
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JESSICA JONES

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Dec 31 2017, 12:05 PM


Jessica laid sprawled out on her dirty orange couch, her legs hanging over the armrest and boots still on, in one hand her phone and in the other a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Her eyes eyed the dimly lit screen and her latest text sent to Melissa, the one stating that she maybe had an idea. The more accurate truth was that she did have an idea, but it was possibly a horrible one. With a displeased grunt she threw the phone onto the coffee table and sat herself up halfway in order to be able to take a drink out of the bottle. "Ah, shit." The angle from which she was trying to drink proved itself to be a bad one as some liquid spilled onto her grey sweater.

It seemed like a good time as any to sit herself up and then move out anyway because the little ball of whirling insinuations in her chest, were getting tighter and tighter. It was the kind of pressure she couldn't stand, the one that more often than not sent her moving out the door and into situations that weren't always beneficial. Even though there was hesitation in her mind still, Jessica knew that she also had made up her mind about this. The worry was the most real out of all of those feelings though, the worry that if she waited for too long, she would change her mind.

Before she knew it, she had slipped into her jacket and pushed the door into her apartment slash office closed with a booted foot, emptying the bottle on her way down the elevator. It had been almost forty minutes since she'd texted Melissa but the evidence of the chaos could be both seen and heard. Some sirens echoed through the streets of Hell's Kitchen and an ambulance passed her on the way down the street. That meant that audience. Good.

The PI carefully skirted the scene and the law enforcement and only a block away, she spotted the Songbird sitting on the curb with shoulders heavier than Jessica had ever seen them. It was enough to make her pause and again, consider this idea of hers. It wouldn't give either of them any happiness that was for sure, but it had potentially to get Melissa in the clear, a situation that she had partly helped create. Make it goddamn right, Jones.

Her steps felt heavy but determined, uncertain but still promising. She walked the last part of the street and came to a stop in front of her friend, black boots scraping to a halt. "I was gonna bring you a drink, but I forgot and drank it all." At first, her plan had to get straight to it, but Melissa deserved some kind of heads-up, that was the very least she could do. "How're you holding up?"



@MELISSA GOLD
Dec 17 2017, 05:49 PM


"Are you sure about this?"
"Nope. Do you have a better idea?"
"No."

Malcolm had pulled the car to a stop a couple of blocks away from Jessica's intended destination. She had her hand on the door handle, but hesitated momentarily, mostly because of the cold. That and she heavily considered another drink. At her feet sat her bag and after another second of thought, she dove into it with both her hands and got out an almost depleted bottle of whiskey, which she promptly finished. "At least, it'll help you keep warm," her self-appointed assistant offered helpfully, which earned him a scowl. "You're very thoughtful," she drawled as she tossed the empty bottle of her shoulder and into the backseat.

That the booze would keep her warm while outside, was only a fleeting hope, given what she was wearing. Her usual outfit jeans and a simple sweater had been replaced by something far more revealing. Tonight she was sporting black fishnets, on top of that a pair of short shorts and on her upper-body a flimsy top that shifted in emerald and teal. It would've been a complete picture if it wasn't for the fact that she was wearing boots still but high heels was for her a no go, as they immediately would give her away. Jess wormed her way into her jacket and checked her make-up one last time in the review mirror before she reached for the handle of the door.

"You look great." A quick hand found its way to the back of Malcolm's head. "Ow! I was trying to be encouraging." Jessica had pushed the door open and without looking back at him she said "Shut up," and then was well on her way.

Had there been another way, she would've tried it. This, what she was doing now, was a last desperate scramble in hopes of finding a couple families' missing daughters. She had done several stakeouts that week but nothing, absolutely, nothing had given any indication that the young women where to be find in the venue. At the same time, other clues told here it was the most likely spot that she would find them in. Breaking in was out of the question and she didn't have any money to bribe someone with, so playing dress-up was what it had been reduced to. Her whole plan was based off of the assumption that she was gonna get in and then the rest would have to figure itself out. A great plan, in other words.

As it soon turned out, after having walked up to the two stationed giants at the door, getting in wasn't a problem. After the mandatory frisking she was led by the arm deeper into the belly of the beast. From just looking around, it was way bigger than Jessica had expected. There were a crowd no doubt, containing a variety of different type of people. At the best of her abilities, without rising suspicion, she glanced around, almost stopped at the sight of what looked like a brightly lit room and someone clad in a cloak.

"Why are you here?"

The voice was suave and belonged to a man in a tailored suit, eyes reminding her about a snake preparing to devour its prey. She hated that look and just in last second, she reminded herself why she was there and offered a smile and reached out to brush a few fingers against the lapel of his jacket. "I heard the pay was good..." The man appeared amused and then gave her a scrutinizing once over, with a minor gesture of his hand asking her to spin. Jessica spun slowly, flicking her ebony-black hair over her shoulder in a well-practiced gesture. "You heard right," he then said, seeming pleased but then continued with utmost graveness. "We can offer you a place here but there are rules to abide and will you fail to do so, you will be short-lived."

"Here or, are you talking literally?" There was no answer, just a firm glance. "Okay then. Hook me up." Another vague gesture with his hand and two men appeared--with pistols both of them, she noted--and escorted her further into the building. Jessica thought she was off to a great start. She was inside, her cover was intact. Now she just needed to find out whether the two women where her or not, and then figure out a way to get the hell out.



@LUKE CAGE @MATTHEW MURDOCK
Oct 21 2017, 03:03 PM


It was without a doubt, the last place Jessica Jones wanted to be.

A room that wasn't really a room but more of a hall, filled with a lot of the kind of thing that she wanted to avoid, which was people. Even worse, most of them weren't even adults and in Jessica's eyes most of they youngsters were seemingly running around screeching, similar to hyenas or vultures, on the prowl for... something. Probably attention. On top of that the whole hall reeked of scientific prowess and interest, both of which she had nothing of. The only thing that she found remotely interesting and appealing had been the pretzel cart she'd passed on the way and now she was hovering by the guy who sold hot dogs, waiting for her turn.

"Thanks." The PI stuffed a bill into the hand of them an, moving slowly down one of the isles while munching away on the hot dog, camera slung over shoulders. She wasn't at the Stark Expo because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Another incident of having to repair her door had led her checking account to be more empty than she would've preferred and the man who'd hired her, paid more than she was asking, enough to make Jessica wonder if there were more reasons for him wanting to find out if his wife was cheating or not. Maybe even a lover of his own. Proof of a cheating wife would give him the momentum needed to break it off. Not that it mattered to Jessica.

Finishing her hot dog, she eyed the group of judges moving painstakingly slow down the boots and in particularly Mrs Velasquez. Jess was still chewing the last of her food when she raised the camera and got herself a shot of the judge running her hand along a male colleague's tie. As a little extra spice, he reached down and squeezed her behind. "Well, it's a start," she muttered to herself and lowered the camera, only to reach into her bag for the thermos, that most definitively didn't hold coffee. It had registered in the scanners when she had walked in but an offhand excuse about not drinking anything but organic coffee, had made them leave the thermos well enough alone.

As one of the exhibits suddenly burst into fire, Jessica quirked a brow, not very surprised. When there was a second, both of her brows were raised and she was starting to get suspicious. "Oh, shit." The curse was accompanied by a sharp exhale as armed men busted through the doors and the sound of screams, shattering glass, bullets and trample of feet was soon heard through out the hall like a thundering echo of the situation. One bullet whistled past her, uncomfortably close and the next one dug itself into to an elderly man next to her. "Sorry about this!" Jessica pushed him to the ground and then threw herself towards a teen that seemed to be running straight into the line of fire.



@FELICIA HARDY
Sep 16 2017, 04:26 PM



Stalking down the hallway towards the door to her joint office and apartment, Jessica wrestled with her camera bag, trying to force it to stay atop the shoulder, something that was proving to be a lot harder to do when sober. Which was also the reason she had decided to stop by the apartment in the first place. The thermos she'd brought with her for tonight's work hadn't offered more than a mouthful--it was never gonna do. She had already tried her card at the corner store a block down the street, finding that the remaining three dollars wasn't even enough to get her a six-pack of beer. You'd think that being one of the most frequent customers would grant a discount every now and then, but Jessica had been in the wrong about that, too.

Not bothering to close the door behind her, she started to go through her cupboards and every nook and cranny she could come to think of, unceremoniously tipping items as she went. Not unsurprisingly it had Malcolm peek his head out of his apartment and he was soon at her door, questioning what she was doing. They had reached that state of their friendship where he could do that without having a sarcastic remark instantly shot back in his face. "I'm out of money and booze, apparently." With a thumb, the younger man gestured over his shoulder. "But that's good, right?" Being out of booze, I mean. This time, however, Jessica shot him a look over her shoulder.

"...I got a Bacardi in my apartment. But--"
"I'll take it."

The rain started as she was back out on the streets and she was halfway towards the destination when she pulled the bottle out of her bag, popped the cap off and only spat after taking her first drink. Bacardi as in Breezer. She wasn't that desperate. She dropped the bottle in the first garbage can she could find and after putting a bit of more distance in her boots, she arrived at the apartment complex. After a not so gracious jump and them climb along the fire escape, she stood outside peeking into what appeared to be a small kitchen. A small window left ajar seemed to be a good way in as any.

Jessica pushed it open and as she did music streamed through. She dropped the bag in first, then the camera only to a second later insert herself through the narrow space--and then get stuck. Legs flailing behind her and hip uncomfortable rubbing against the window-border she tried to reach something with her hands so she could pull herself in. "Shit." The tip of her fingers graced the top of the fridge and in a grand misjudgment of strength, her fingers not only made indentations in the metal, but also made the appliance topple over and crash against the counter. It didn't stop there. The door opened, a lonely orange rolled out, soon followed by a white stream of milk that was quickly pooling on the floor.

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@MELISSA GOLD

Sep 14 2017, 02:34 AM
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- Former model and child TV star.<br>
- Resents her time as a child TV star, much due to her mothers controlling and abusing nature.<br>
- Was as a teen addicted to drugs and caused a fire in a nightclub.<br>
- To put out some of the PR fire, her mother adopted Jessica Jones, who had recently lost her whole family in a car accident.<br>
- The two bonded, Trish by keeping Jessica's secret and Jessica staving Dorothy Walker's continued abuse.<br>
- Is currently a successful talk show host.<br>
- Determined, headstrong and occasionally obsessed with overcoming her own weaknesses. Speaks French fluently and regularly trains martial arts, such as Krav Maga.


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<td><div style="width: 200px; height: 200px; background-image: url(https://68.media.tumblr.com/eb8fb6f7321e4ac22cccaee21a6aab1a/tumblr_oendy2bqRz1sxqz3eo1_250.gif);"><div class="vancode24">

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<div class="vancodetitle1">TRISH WALKER</div>

<div class="vancodefctitle1">FC: R. Taylor</div>

<div style="width: 160px; border-top: 1px dotted #fff; margin-left: 10px;"></div>

<div class="vancoderqdesc">33 years old<br>
radio talk show host<br>
human</div>

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- Grew up in a family that dutifully helped others. His father work on community projects for the poor and his mother prayed in church for the sick and dying. <br>
- This shaped Malcolm to be selfless and created a desire to make a difference. <br>
- After finishing high school he engaged himself in various community projects before finally deciding to become a social worker. <br>
- Malcolm graduate at 25 and spent some time working for the Lutheran Social Services.<br>
- In 2014 he was attacked by two muggers and saved by Jessica Jones. <br>
- At a later date, he unfortunately met Kilgrave, whom then proceeded to exploit him for his own uses also got him hooked on drugs. <br>
- After getting rid of his addiction, he set about to righting his wrongs. <br>
- He runs a Kilgrave Victim Support Group and occasionally takes upon himself as the role of Jessica's assistant.<br>
- Malcolm's skilled at staying undetected and to appear insignificant. He also speaks Haitian Creole.

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<div class="vancodetitle1">malcolm ducasse</div>

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<div style="width: 160px; border-top: 1px dotted #fff; margin-left: 10px;"></div>

<div class="vancoderqdesc">28 years old<br>
former social-worker<br>
human</div>

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<div style="width: 350px; text-align: right; font-family: arial; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 5px;">THANKS ♥</div>
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