jordana-velasquez

[jordana-velasquez]

“There was that one time…” Her voice trailed off, laced with playful teasing. Their friendship had been born through a mutual connection back in Porto—it was comforting, grounding, to have a familiar face around. More familia.

Both had grown up on the streets of Porto, clawing their way out of what many would call the slums to carve out names for themselves. That journey alone had earned Jordana’s deep respect for the man beside her. She knew firsthand what it meant to survive Cávado.

“If I hadn’t thrown all my money on Ayaz, I would’ve bet on you too.” The honesty rang clear in her voice, her smile warm and genuine.

Óscar always had an open invitation to Puerto Escondido—dinner, drinks, when ever he needed.

“Gracias. Puede que no esté de acuerdo contigo en eso,” she replied, her voice softening as she slipped comfortably into her mother tongue.

"Te ves guapo." A quick once-over with a hint of a smirk. "¿Viniste con una cita?"

"You say that like I’ve ever brought anything less," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into something just shy of a smile.

Óscar glanced her way, took in the calm glint in her eyes, the quiet calculation behind the compliment. Jordana didn’t hand out praise unless it was earned—or unless she knew exactly what she was doing with it. Smart. But he wasn’t here for easy. He’d seen the match list. Knew what it meant. Knew who it meant.

He glanced her way, noting the glint in her eyes—measured, calm. Jordana didn’t cross rooms without a reason, "I’m not worried," he added, voice steady. Then, with a dry edge, "Should I be?"

Still, he didn’t flinch. Just let the moment sit.

"Appreciate the boost, though," A soft nod. "You look good tonight. Tell Mateo to stop letting you outshine him."

[jordana-velasquez]

The way the other woman said "interesting" didn’t sit well with Jordana—especially the lingering glance she cast over her outfit. Still, Jordana kept her composure, a polite smile tugging at her lips.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked smoothly. She could play nice… when she wanted to.

Odile hadn't intended to step in her way, but when she did — something caused the smirk on her lips to amlify. Turning, champagne in hand as her eyes trailed down the outfit that the other woman wore. "Interesting." was all she quipped, before a smile tightened her lips. "Hello Jordana."

[jordana-velasquez]

"Welcome back." Jordana’s gaze drifted to the two fighters in the ring for a moment before flicking back to Adriana.

"Not yet. I bet my life savings on Ayaz, and now he’s being his petty self, telling me he’s going to lose on purpose." She let out a short, amused chuckle. "What about you?"

"That's because I wasn't here." Her attention had been on the ring, but as Giordana approached he diverted it to the woman. "Lose any money yet?"

[jordana-velasquez]

"I do. Drink." Her tone was smooth and composed, eyes steady, uncertain of what exactly he was trying to prove. She had seen the matchups for the two Russian women—both had caught her attention.

"And you?" She countered.

Roman nodded at the woman. He had seen the list and knew that this was going to be Nadya's little pet - and looking at her, it should be easy enough. After all, Nadya was something else.

"You drink?" He asked.

[jordana-velasquez]

where: the underground when: pre-fights who: @amaroadriana

The woman offered Adriana a drink with a warm smile. "It's nice to see you out." It had been a while since they'd crossed paths, as she wasn’t one to pry into others’ affairs.

[jordana-velasquez]

"I won’t. We both know that. The fact that you think I have just £8.50 in my account shows how little you actually know me. That’s exactly why I plan to live off Mateo."

"You realise my pride is non-existent, right? I'm tempted to lose on purpose now you've said that, just to be a petty bitch. A whole £8.50 down the toilet, Jordana. How will you financially recover from this?"

[jordana-velasquez]

where: the underground when: pre-fights who: @oscar-velholobo

Jordana’s gaze locked onto Óscar from across the bar, her curiosity piqued not only by his name on the list but also by the match he’d been assigned. It wasn’t going to be an easy one.

"I’m going to go say hi to a friend," she murmured, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on Mateo’s cheek before slipping out of her seat. She crossed the room, heading toward the Rutherford bodyguard.

"You’re going to need to bring your A-game tonight," she said, stepping up beside him. "But I think you’ve got this." She offered him a subtle smile, knowing there was no harm in boosting his confidence a little.

[jordana-velasquez]

Jordana knew her limits when it came to what she could handle. Normally, she wasn’t one to engage in conflict unless absolutely necessary, but she kept up with her regular training—something Mateo had always insisted on. One drink wouldn’t hurt her.

"Yes and no." The Lieutenant had been observing the blonde ever since her release from prison, looking for signs of growth. While there had been noticeable progress, she could still see the cracks—the Achilles' heel she planned to exploit. Tonight would be the perfect test. "I know exactly where to poke."

While others were comfortable drinking before their fights, Nevra chose to abstain. She had enough going on in her head to deal with. She didn't blame others for partaking though.

"You seem calm. Not worried about Isla?" The blonde might be small but she could pack a punch. She knew that well enough from the times they'd sparred together.

[jordana-velasquez]

who: @ayaz--ates where: the underground london when: prefights

"I bet money on you. My whole life savings. Don't lose." She teases, taking a seat beside him.

[jordana-velasquez]

Jordana had no idea what Benjamin had done to provoke Lara, but she couldn’t help feeling a little sympathy for him. It might be good for his character, though. She also knew that Melissa would ensure he got the medical attention he needed.

"I don’t bet," she said with a slight pause. "If I had to make a guess, I would say over." Jordana stated.

@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club 2025 -Pre Fights

Félix glanced around the room, his fingers tight around his drink.For all he tried to keep some distance between the true nature of the Rutherford family business and himself, even he wasn't above placing a bet or two on sport. Maybe not sport this bloody, but when in Rome.

"What's the over/under that Vox walks out of that ring with his spleen intact?" Judging from the look of his opponent, not good.

[jordana-velasquez]

where: the underground london who: @mobscene-starters when: prefights.

Jordana had seen who she was being paired with and it slightly intrigued her, but she planned to make something out of it.

With a drink in hand, she turned towards the table Mateo was, when a body stepped in front of her. "Hello."

[jordana-velasquez]

Jordana Velasquez attends Fight Club 2025 Date: Friday April 4, 2025 Escorted by: Mateo Herrera

[jordana-velasquez]

It had been a rough few months, but that didn't mean Jordana slacked in any form, the woman worked harder. She always did wanting to continue to prove her worth to the organisation. That meant that she had been working with Melissa a little more and there was something to learn from the older woman.

They had a meeting scheduled for today, going over a few reports that she had taken over certain territories and how they wished to deal with the infestation of those beneath them. The lieutenant did not mind getting her hands dirty when necessary.

Ms. Lin's assistant allowed her through, arriving ten minutes before their meeting time, a knock on the door before she entered.

"If you want me to wait outside, I can?"

FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Mayfair, office. Meeting.

Melissa lay the files out one by one. Today, she had no helpers. This she would do alone. This meeting wasn't for the ears of the common man, and everything had to be perfect. So she did what she'd always done best — became a perfectionist. It was in that she bared the resemblance of her mother.

Although Melissa Lin remained involved in the life she'd been gifted—the killing, outright, unforgiving murder—she wasn't completely desensitized to that part. And while she'd killed someone last year...it still sat there, in her sternum. A reminder of the brutality they all had inside of them.

It was a festering pit, eternally there. Melissa was immune to most things. Empathy rarity to be found within her, but this was a new. Something she hadn't quite felt before. Once that shot had left her gun — all politics and civility had flown out the window. All she'd seen was the clear, distinctive need to protect.

Maybe her only motherly instinct she'd ever brandished so willingly, openly.

These thoughts were keeping her awake, but her appearance didn't tell that story.

the door opened, Melissa's hand outstretched with a file. She paused, hovering over an open spot on the table.

"You're early."

[jordana-velasquez]

[jordana-velasquez]

where: her office who: @benjaminvox when: 16th of december, 2024

It was an odd message to receive a message requesting that she deal with a matter for Melissa Lin, and more so, with the assistance of Benjamin Vox. She knew of the male, not usually in a position where they conversed, but giving what was being asked, she would not refuse help, not when it came to her boss.

"Come in," a knock placed at her door, her assistant opening it.

"There is a Mr. Vox here for you."

"Send him in." Jordana closed what she was working on, pushing down the laptop screen when her guest walked in. "Benjamin, have a seat." A hand gestures to the seat across from her. "I thought we could debrief a little before we head out." She was not one that left anywhere without a plan. Her promise to come home every night to Mateo.

[jordana-velasquez]

Jordana respected the man standing in front of her and the extent he went to keep from being in the family business. Perhaps if she had the opportunities he did growing up, she might not be standing where she was, and had the privilege of following her passions like dance.

Those dreams were for silly girls.

There was no holding back the receptive laugh that slipped her parted lips at Gideon's words. At least she was still able to appreciate being able to weather a hangover. "I try my best not to judge others music tastes." Which was a lie, she did judge. "What are siblings if they are not giving each other a hard time. Family is everything."

All hope is lost when another song breaks through the cheering crowd, still subject to the torment ringing through the room. Delightful.

"Mateo Herra." Jordana can't help but smile thinking about him. "He owns Puerto Escondido. You should come by some time." There was no need to hide the truth from Gideon, he may be inclined to be on the outside of the business his father ran, but he was well aware of what it was. "He works for your father. We couldn't stand each other at first, but over time, it changed. I couldn't imagine him not in my life."

'There are many things you don't know about me.'

Gideon throws her a noncommittal smile, but doesn't otherwise reply. It's true. Part of it is circumstance; they don't work in jobs that often intersect. Part of it is choice; he's already unwillingly associated with his father's mob through the loved ones he has in it — as much as possible, Gideon resists further bonds, lest he one day find he's chained to that against which he's fought all his life to be free.

"Seems I've crossed many marks that come with age. I don't weather a hangover nearly as well as I used to, and I cannot, for the life of me, appreciate this music." He chuckles. "I'm able to live with those consequences, though ask my siblings and they'll probably class this as a medical emergency. Damon, especially."

A cheer erupts through the crowd as the music transitions into a new beat. Yet another piece that's apparently familiar to everyone but him.

... And Jordana. He throws her another glance. "So who's the lucky guy?"

[jordana-velasquez]

Outside of her business with the Rutherfords, her job, there was another side of Jordana. Family was important to the woman. Not family by blood, but one by those she chose to have around her. That at the end of the day, they would come together to share a meal, laughs and at times, dancing.

"There are many things you don't know about me." She teased with a smirk painted on her lips.

From what she gathered about Gideon, he wished not to be part of the family business and she could respect that. It made interactions with them few, but he was still one she would watch over.

A laugh escapes, a real one, at the notion of being called grandma. "We are, but see, I haven't hit the marker that you so happen to have crossed." Another jest in his direction. "You will have all the seniors fawning over you. When you are ready, I'll help you find the perfect care home." Hues glance around the room before finding his. "I'm waiting for him to make the move to put a ring on it."

He listens to her description of a worthwhile genre in music, initially with only passing interest, but admittedly hooked by the time she's done. The surgeon turns to give her a glance, taking in the rhythmic sway of her hips and the smile curving on her mouth.

"Look at you, Lieutenant... A real artiste. Who would've thought?"

He wouldn't have, surely. Granted, they've had few opportunities to interact like this, but whenever he's seen Jordana, it's always been at a distance, and usually in settings where she looks quite stern. Gideon supposes it's part of the job.

"Hold your horses, grandma. You just admitted we're close in age. Pot meet kettle and all that." The Rutherford laughs, not offended in the slightest. Of all the matters he has to be sensitive about, age sure as hell isn't one of them. Still, it's easy entertainment to have a new nickname for her. "Besides. I'm not interested in dating. Maybe I'm saving it for when I make my move to the care home. What's your excuse?"