Welcome to Graceland! We are a brand new AU rp based on USA's Graceland, loosely based during season 2. If you haven't seen the show, that's fine too! We're ready and willing to get you involved regardless! We have a 350 word count. We accept canons from all current crime dramas if you can integrate them into our plotline. Please register with First Last in proper capitalization and have fun!
JULY 21 Welcome to Graceland is officially open! Please pop into the cbox and say hi or start an application!
It was a motto that seemed to ring throughout the halls each and every day, followed only by the sting of skin on skin as she reeled from the collision of knuckles to her cheek. Daddy never hit his little princess, no, he had his friends and son to do it for him. Lucia's mother had died of liver failure from excessive when the girl was only four, and the girl would spend years wishing for her to come back, hating her for leaving her alone in a house full of boys who never listened.
"Little puta wants to play big bad? What is little Lucia going to do, eh?"
The taunting was ruthless and it turned a innocent little girl into a hard, take-no-bullshit, kick your ass, steal your cash kind of girl. She had never wanted to be like that, not really. She idolized her father and his power, the way that he commanded respect. That was all she wanted; respect. But in her father's eyes, it was a man's world and she was most definitely not a man.
"Sit down, shut up, and look pretty. That's all I want from you."
And so Lucia was stifled. Her input, while often well-thought out, was invalidated by her elder brother's or another one of her father's lackies. She was treated like a fragile little thing that needed protecting and loving and sheltering... until she opened her mouth. From day one that was the way it had been. Speak and be silenced, stay silent and be coddled. Even at a young age, it was infuriating, and the bruises were something she could easily have done without.
"This hurts me as much as it hurts you."
Bullshit. It was always bullshit. Everything out of everyone's mouth was a lie. Every kind gesture came with an attached price and Lucia wised up quick. She learned that she wasn't going to get what she wanted by speaking out -- that would only get her beat. By fourteen, the girl known for her mouth was known for something else entirely. Lucia thanked God every day that her Mama wasn't around to see her doing what she did. There was no pride in spreading your legs to get what you wanted, especially when the men finding their way between them were at least twice your age.
"What would your Mama think if she saw you now, niña chiquita?
Men were pigs, but they served their purpose. Every dirty word whispered in one ear went straight out the other. Even when they moved inside of her they spoke to her like a child, those filthy hands gripping the hips of a girl that was only barely a woman. It sickened her, wrung her stomach and made her heave every night once they'd left. But it was the price she'd pay for respect, for recognition, and for power. Papa had always said "Anything for power." and even then, even after he had cast her aside as useless, she idolized him and followed his words, whispering them like a mantra when another man would kiss her throat. "Anything for power."
"Little whore! Do you know who I am?"
Lucia was eighteen the first time she felt real power. A threat to her father's cartel had been realized and he had buffed security up big time, two guards inside her room and two out. No one would touch the golden girl while she slumbered. Except for the fact that by then, her reputation had long since spread through his lackeys and only barely missed her father's ears.Apparently, the two jerkoffs in her room hadn't gotten the message; it was on her terms, when she wanted it. She had been sleeping sound and peaceful when she felt the weight over her, hands pressing into her shoulders, a heavy body spreading itself atop her. Lucia hadn't done what normals girls would. She didn't scream or thrash or cry - she went along with it, sliding her hands down his body until she found the gun on his hip. Before he'd even known what had happened, she'd pressed the metal to his body and pulled the trigger. When the other man that had been guarding her tried to run, she raised the gun and shot him too. Laying in her bed, covered in a dead man's blood with another corpse by the door, Lucia finally knew why her father did what he did.
"Clean up your mess, and then we'll talk."
And that was all it took. Double homicide and suddenly Lucia was a blip on Daddy's deep, dark radar. It wasn't everything she'd ever dreamed of, but hell, it was a start. Suddenly she found herself shadowing Carlito, her father whispering 'just in case' in her ear. Just in case of what? Just in case his temper got in the way? Carlito was a madman and he never played fair but for some reason people respected him. Lucia was desperate to find out why and soon enough she did - fear. At nineteen, she watched Carlito blow a guy's head off with an antique gun because he wore the same polo to a family affair. People didn't respect Carlito, they were scared shitless of him and so they watched where they stepped. If Lucia hadn't been rock solid before, she got that way fast.
"Excuse my sister, she thinks she's worth something."
Even after earning her father's respect, she still hadn't earned Carlito's. Carlito still treated her like a pawn to play with, a toy he could toss around and rent out to his friends for a little something in return. Lucia's loyalty was to her father and she did what Carlito asked as a result, but God, did she want to wring his neck in his sleep. Still, she took his continual abuse and his shitstorm methods, hanging around his side and trying to be a voice of reason when he took things too far.
"What do you mean, there's a threat?"
It was through Lucia that her father learned of Caza's interference in Southern California. It didn't take long for him to ship off his children to a property he owned on the other side of the border. It was lavish and Lucia and Carlito were provided for, but living alone with Carlito was hell at best. He dragged her around like a prize, tossing her around as a bargaining chip and using her for information. Lucia was the one who had extracted the information on Mike the Marine and Lucia who had delivered it. Naturally, Carlito took the credit.
"He'll be dead and we'll go back to Mexico, how's that sound?"
Now twenty-five (and too-rapidly approaching twenty-six) Lucia is just struggling to keep it together. She doesn't want to go back to Mexico and she certainly doesn't want to play her brother's keeper anymore. She's tired of his ruffians and his fights, his gunshots, battles, parties, and everything else. The hit failed and God only knows what kind of shit is about to hit the fan. Frankly, Lucia doesn't want to find out.