Multiple Settings Bad Role Models (OPEN!)

[AI10100]

Interacting with: . D O V E
​

Monika listened intently but her eyebrows furrowed. Mounting other people on her? She wasn't nearly big enough to be able to carry heavy machine guns, their boilers and other human beings. That just wasn't feasible— and Monika wasn't one to say that things were impossible unless there was no workaround. The taller woman attached herself to Monika as her mind tried to comprehend Frida's words.

It was just a portion of her true form? She could be bigger? That removed their entire problem of having to automate the turrets. If they could have people manning them, then there were absolutely no problems in their plans. A sort of childish glee flashed in her eyes. The possibilities of what they can add to this arsenal just expanded from this mere fact. Of course, she didn't know exactly how big Frida could get, but if the matriarch was boasting about it, then Monika had nothing to worry about.

"Turrets. You're right! Of course, creating one that could be dynamic enough as to not throw people off you when you start to move and attack would take a bit more brainstorming but that doesn't mean that it isn't possible. We already have heavy-duty machine guns in production that were planted in various parts of the city as protection so that isn't a problem. Creating a protected platform where these people can operate, however, isn't available. Yet." Though only Monika could hear it, her Guardian had invaded part of her thoughts to throw out suggestions. In a seemingly fluid manner, she answered him out loud. "Yes, yes, you're right. The next problem would be how to transport such a large bunker, and how to keep it strapped onto Frida the entire time. It would require a lot of materials, as well as testing." She huffed, but Frida would recognize that it wasn't directed at her. "You're not one or saying things are impossible. You'll see, it'll be perfectly fine."

The focus in her eyes returned to Frida, most of her consciousness returning to the present time. "Would you be available for testing things out when I have a prototype prepared? I don't exactly know your... exact dimensions in your larger forms so I'm going to be a bit ambitious." Thankfully, her previous project had been finished and in production for her personal use, as most of her projects are. Guns were so easily made and mass produced. Other types of magitech, however, are not and she'd rather arm herself first than anyone else. For everyone's protection of course! "Do you have any sort of suggestions?"

Despite the fact that they were in a clearly public place with three informants present, Monika seemed completely unbothered. Words were just words. As far as she knew, the plans weren't even concrete and would barely be important. To her, at least.

 

[Ineptitude]

Qiao Guanyu
Location: Snowsant's Heart
Interaction/s: Colorless Spectrum​

---

"Ah, just give me a minute or two for your latte, dear. My employees will get to boxing your other orders." Guanyu gave a playful wink, fully aware of her fellow Matriarch's sweet tooth. She took on a joking tone, eyes glittering with thinly veiled amusement. "I figured that with you and Frida around, the usual amount we prepare wouldn't be nearly enough. We've been baking since the break of dawn for this little gathering."

Making the iced mocha latte was a quick and simple affair. It was just coffee, chocolate, steamed milk and ice. Some additional whipped cream and grated chocolate later and it was all done—and judging by the verifiable tower of boxes in her peripheral vision, it seemed all the pastries were ready to be taken home as well. Guanyu slid the finished cup over to Quinn's waiting hands, careful not to spill any of the beverage.

Catching Anzel's eyes in the process, the barista leaned over the counter. She hid her mouth from Quinn's gaze as if she was hiding some sort of childish secret.

"Reduced the sugar in those desserts for you." She mouthed with a devious grin, looking particularly smug.

 

[The Crimson King]

Fumikage Hanji
Interacting with: Colorless Spectrum Coyote Hart Ineptitude
Mentioned: . D O V E AI10100 Ambiloquous LazyDaze

The meeting had ended, and his stomach was full, as was his mind. He strode silently away from the group, who collectively made their way to the lobby, his briefcase beside him all the while; he exited from the back, and leaned against the hard surface adjacent, the backside of the café. He placed his bag upon the ground, drew a cold breath, and produced an unopened pack of cigarettes. “Trifecta Goddess” was his preferred brand, characterized by their striking leaf green filters, and ancient warlock inspired iconography. He unwrapped the package, and took but one, placing it in his mouth and lighting with a snap of his fingers; an elementary spell that produced sparks. He savored it’s taste and his expression relaxed. He had much to ponder before he would return to the rest.

Time had passed, and he had drooped to the concrete ground, his body propped against the wall, the cigarette mostly ash in his mouth. He spat, sending it hurtling away, the embers exploding against the parallel surface, rising from his place and adjusting his coat, grabbing his case, before walking inside, and towards the lobby.

He was stretching his arms a bit when he approached, immediately noticing the absence of Patriarch Xue and Matriarch Böhler, though he quickly recalled conversation between the two; perhaps they eloped, he thought. Good for them. Besides that, there was Matriarchs Van Schafer and Ashwood, undoubtedly speaking of some grand scheme, and beside them was Matriarch Ylva, who was chatting with the manager, Guanyu. The rest were spread around, loitering for reasons unbeknownst to Hanji. In that case, he would make himself at home as well, and just maybe talk business.
He sat upon a couch not far from the counter, and released the tension on his shoulders, shutting his eyes a moment and steadying his breathing. He placed his briefcase upon his lap for but a moment before placing it upon the cushion beside him. He would smoke in here, but he couldn’t help but hear Lena’s irritated voice in his head, so instead he crossed his arms upon his chest, and searched for words.
“Matriarch Ylva. Detective Karman.
Do you mind if we talk a moment?”​

 

[Coyote Hart]

​

---

With that final agreement, the members of the breakfast table dispersed. Except for Mortas. For he had seen the potential waste that filled the quickly emptying room-- as well as the potential opportunity.

There were half-empty platters of pancakes, bits and scraps of bacon, a tub of scrambled eggs with the shape of a scoop indented into it. It would be a waste for nobody but the trash can to eat it. The intriguing thing about breakfast was that it worked as an all-day food. A good plate of eggs, toast, and bacon could be a reinvigorating lunch, or even a dinner to solidify the good day. Mortas even once had breakfast at 3AM, an experience so odd that he wasn't in any hurry to repeat it.

And so even though Mortas was stuffed and couldn't swallow another bite, he piled his plate high with the leftovers. For lunch, Mortas decided. With that, he felt content to leave the room and return to his beloved armchair.

Mortas set his plate of food off to one side of the coffee table in front of him as he frowned at his briefcase of papers. If the Karman Detective Agency was going to partake in taking down the Association and setting up the Kaien MagiCon, there would be a lot of paperwork to do. The detective sighed. It wasn't as if it was difficult paperwork. It was just tedious. The Rhongomiant was so much more carefree. Mortas was jealous of his own counterpart.

Mortas sat back in his armchair, wanting to procrastinate from getting started on his work. He instead indulged in listening in on what was going on around him. Matriarch Ashwood was offering to mount turrets on Frittata, which was... odd, to say the least. Although if it was properly done, Mortas bet it would be quite cool. Matriarch Ylva was trying to casually scam Frittata. And Matriarch Bohler was quietly signalling SOS as she talked with Song Xiansheng, and being quietly ignored.

Song Xiansheng scared Mortas a slight bit. The insane glimmer in his eyes didn't bode well with the careful detective. He wondered if the assassin was anything like the Muramasa-- a blade so bloodthirsty that if there was no enemy for it to cut, it would cut the wielder. Would the leader of LOTUS fight the parents if he couldn't get his fill from the homunculus?

Mortas was suddenly pulled from his musings by Fumikage-sama's request. Feeling thankful for the distraction, Mortas got up from his armchair and claimed a chair closer to Hanji.

"Fumikage-sama, how may I help you?" Mortas said, "Is this something regarding MagiCon? Or is this about keeping an eye on the organization before we strike?"

Mortas briefly turned towards Guanyu and asked her, "Oh, by the way, could I get a cup of espresso, please?"

The Crimson King Colorless Spectrum Ineptitude

 

[. D O V E]

Frida von Schafer​

And just like that, Monika was once again lost in her own wonderland. Frida bemusedly watch as the fellow Matriarch started mumbling her name as though they weren't in the middle of a conversation merely a few seconds ago. She'd be lying if she said the idleness of it all wasn't amplifying the gnawing hunger in the belly. Assuming today's meeting wasn't a dead giveaway, the Gourmet has never been fond of the planning phase. It would always test her patience; as if she was in a kitchen wafting with mouthwatering aromas, waiting for dishes to cook.

A low growl resounded amidst Monika's spiel, causing the Gourmet to laugh. "I do have suggestions, and one of them is to discuss this matter over a fine course back in one of my facilities." She said, acting as if she didn't finish an entire tray with three levels earlier. It wasn't like it was a concern, though. Monika has been long familiarized with Frida's strange appetite, and with her curious personality, she would be the last person in Kaien to flinch about it.

She pulled her old friend closer and started leading them to the exit, where Gustav greeted them with a nod. "You shared the ride with Matriarch Ylva, correct? Then I suppose it would pose no problem if I have my dear Gustav deliver us to the Grand Terrarium?" It was one of the VSP's grandest laboratories, situated in the heart of the Agricultural sector, famously known for hosting the Annual Grand Hunt. Its humungous space would be perfect for Monika to examine her Grotesque form.

And with that, the two Matriarchs entered the crimson limousine, the Butcher taking the front seat shortly before the vehicle zoomed to the direction of the Agricultural district.

AI10100

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Quinn Victoria Ylva

Quinn couldn't help but give a small giggle to Guanyu's sentiment. "You all must be so beat from all the work for the breakfast party." She was now graciously holding the coffee within her palms. A sigh escaped her lips after taking a small sip, caffeine in the morning is truly something else. Workaholics like her are forever thankful for the invention of the beverage, speaking of... There were some papers that needed to be signed to finalize buying off one of the other logistics companies waiting for her.

“Matriarch Ylva. Detective Karman. Do you mind if we talk a moment?”

Oh? The head of the Fumikage wants to speak to her? "Of course, give me a moment, Patriarch Fumikage." She smiled sweetly before turning to Anzel. "Stop it with the stink eye, you'll get ugly wrinkles. Now, be a good boy and get those boxes of pastries in the car while I talk to Sir Hanji."

Anzel merely made a huff while he watched Quinn sashay into the booth. He turned around to take away the boxes only to find Guanyu mouthing him words that made his morning. "You are a life saver, Miss Guanyu!" He whispered enthusiastically, thanking her for what she has done and apologizing for the glare. "Please continue to do so in the future." He requested before happily walking away to the front door.

"Hey boys," Quinn called as she took a seat besides Mortas. She took a dainty sip of her coffee before taking things a little more seriously. "Is there anything you need from me, Patriarch Fumikage?"

mention: || interaction: Ineptitude Coyote Hart The Crimson King

 

[The Crimson King]

Fumikage Hanji
Interacting with: Colorless Spectrum Coyote Hart
His posture had relaxed slightly as the two sat close by, but he couldn’t help but lean forward slightly as he spoke, his thin smile accented by the faint glistening of his spectacles,
“I would ask you only humor me, matriarch, detective.”
He opened the case beside him, baring it’s contents once more: various papers, with the Relic, Kaguya, embedded into it’s primary surface, like a vast eye absorbing the little light that reaches it. He produces a map of the Industrial District, placing it upon the coffee table before him before closing the briefcase once more. He gestures to the map wordlessly for a moment or two, before seeming to decide on what to say,
“It’s of no secret to anyone that the Association is primarily operating in the industry sector of Kaien; a smart choice, I must admit, as it’s easily the most cavernous District, with many abandoned properties reclaimed by vagrant residents, whom their victims are composed of. Though, there’s a certain compound construction that seems to have been untouched for many years.”
He taps his index finger upon the location thrice. It’s a rather infamous building. It was once a military installation, in the first years of Kaien, before the Empire abandoned this city, and withdrew all their manpower. Then it was a forum for industrial business, with built-in workers’ housing, but has since been rendered obsolete by independent industry and their many facets, and thus, has been widely considered to be the largest ruin in Kaien.
“The old Forum. It’s very likely this is where they’ll be, but if it’s security system is still operational, getting in may be difficult, which is why I’d like to employ the services of our resident infiltration/espionage operatives.”
He gestures widely, not quite a shrug or a gesticulation of purpose, but his expression is warm,
“I’m confident between the three of us we can gather enough agents to compensate for that which remains a mystery. What say you?”​

 

[AtlannianSpy]

Ruka Kuromori

The Silk & Song Bordello

"Help me understand." said the girl, her expression and face eerily calm despite the blood dripping down her face and staining her formal clothes almost from head to foot. "My subordinates say I'm bad at communicating, so I want to understand if somehow I haven't clearly conveyed my expectations." The girl tilted her head slightly, as if to view Robbie from a better angle, although she was only inches away from Robbie, crouching him while she sat with his back slumped up against the wall.

For his part, Robbie could do little except stare up at the girl in mute fear and clutch at the gaping wound in his chest. Five minutes ago the girl had entered his establishment. Up until that moment it had been an ordinary night, a good one even: the customers had been flocking in, lured in by Robbie's cut price rates and the girls had all been behaving themselves since he'd made an example of that mouthy blonde one. Robbie had been wiping a cheap mug clean with a rag and mentally adding up his take for the night when the girl had walked in.

Despite its fancy name Silk & Song was a pretty rough establishment, kept cheap and gritty by Robbie's low prices so it wasn't the kind of place woman entered voluntarily. Chunk, the pot bellied hulk Robbie employed as a bouncer had put one oversized mitt of a hand on the girl's shoulder to turn her away.

Then, Chunk exploded.

No... no that wasn't quite right, it hadn't looked like an explosion exactly, it had been like something had suddenly burst free from Chunk, an expanding, tree like formation of blood red crystal whose branches grew to take over the bar in fractions of second, impaling the staff around the bordello in their stomachs and chests. Robbie had only realized several seconds later that he had been impaled as well when he fell backwards against the wall behind the bar. Slumped on the floor, his vision of the rest of the room cut off by the bar, Robbie could only wait blindly and listen as the bar erupted in a cacophony of screams and stampeding footsteps. That noise had seemed to go on for ever but it could only really have been about twenty seconds or so, then there was silence except for a single pair of light footsteps growing steadily louder as someone walked up to the bar.

"Hello," said the girl, poking her head over the bar to look down at Robbie dispassionately. "I just have a few questions."

---

"My name is Ruka Kuromori, the matriarch of the Garden District Alliance," said the girl, Ruka, as Robbie wheezed with pain. "The Garden District Alliance controls all of the prostitution and related services in the city and I control the Garden District Alliance that is to say, Anyone who sells sex in this city answers to me. Do you understand so far?"

"P-please I need a doctor," whimpered Robbie, gesturing weakly at his blood soaked midsection. "I'm-I'm dying,"

Ruka sighed and leaned forwards, pressing her thumb into Robbie's wound firmly, eliciting a sharp scream from the man and a bout of desperate wiggling as he tried vainly to escape.

"You aren't dying," Ruka said, her expression unchanged and her voice only expressing a very mild impatience. "I didn't damage anything vital, now please answer my question. Anyone who sells sex in this city, including your disgusting little establishment answers to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes! y-yes I understand!" Robbie said quickly, and then sobbed with relief as Ruka withdrew her thumb.

"Good, that's better. In truth I already knew that understood this," said Ruka. "My predecessor kept extensive records one of, if not his only, virtues and and among them were details of the dues you paid to the Garden District Alliance for several years. Now onto my second question, were you aware that short after succeeding my predecessor I implemented several broad new policies GDA member organizations are expected to comply with, policies that your establishment is in violation of?'

It must have been difficult to grow paler still with so much of his blood already externalised, but somehow Robbie managed it, his face underneath his greasy facial hair blanching. "No! No I didn't know I sw-ARRGH!"

Robbie was cut off as Ruka again poked her thumb into his wound, sighing with frustration.

"Ah please excuse me, that one was also a trick question. I know you know about these policies because I sent one of my representatives here two weeks ago to explain them to you, as I did to every brothel , every parlour, every massage house, every strip show every cabaret every sleazy pimp in the city. In your case specifically I believe the heavy set gentleman by the door escorted them rather forcefully from the premises."

"Please," said Robbie with mounting dread and urgency. "I didn't know he was one of yours or I wouldn't have-"

"Shhh," said Ruka, cutting him off. "You just have to answer my questions remember? You only have one left, this one isn't a trick I promise, I truly need you to help me understand this. Why?"

"W-why?" stammered Robbie.

"Why did you disregard my orders?" explained Ruka. "Why did you keep your workers confined on your premises and withhold a fair wage? Why did have your enforcers beat them and allow clients to abuse them? I forbade all of these things Robbie, yes I know your name. Help me understand why you did these things. Did you think the rules didn't apply to you? Maybe you thought I wouldn't notice or wouldn't care?"

"I-I just, I'm just trying to make a living!" stammered Robbie "Please!"

"Yes I understand that much Robbie, everyone's entitled to make a living," said Ruka, nodding placidly. "But it isn't necessary to exploit people in the way you did in order to merely make a living. In fact in doing so you denied the women you kept confined here a chance to make a living of their own which seems unfair to me."

"Oh God, please,"

"May I propose an answer of my own Robbie? It's just a theory but I'd like to run it by you. See I think you got greedy. I think you realised you could make a lot of money exploiting and hurting people and in your mind that outweighed the immorality of what your were doing, or the risk that you might get caught, what do you think about my theory Robbie?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright Robbie, greed is a very natural impulse," Ruka said soothingly. "It's one I'm very familiar with and understand how to mitigate. You see Robbie if your behaviour came about as the result of a risk reward analysis then all we have to do is change the variables and you will come to a different conclusion. Understand? We just need to make sure the consequences you face outweigh benefits you stand to reap,"

Suddenly Ruka stood up and Robbie let out a shriek and tried to scrabble away from her ineffectually.

"Unfortunately Robbie, you seem to be extremely greedy," said Ruka, sliding a hand into her jacket and retrieving a pair of black, leather gloves that she donned unhurriedly. "So the consequences needed to outweigh that will need to be extremely steep. Nevertheless, I'm confident we can come to an understanding Robbie, I said earlier that I'm bad at communicating, but I'm a fast learner.

Outside of the Silk & Song bordello a small crowd of onlookers had gathered to witness the carnage and they all flinched as one as a bloodcurdling scream echoed out from the rickety, wooden establishment.

---

Some twenty minutes later, after the crowd had fled from the terrifying sounds issuing forth from the bordello, Ruka herself exited as well. Ruka's clothes were still stained with blood but she had wiped her face clean at some point.

"Boss," said a tall man with slicked back, blonde hair. The man was wearing a neat looking vest and black pants over a white dress shirt and up until now he had been smoking, the lit cigarette still dangling from his surprisingly long fingers. "Esme's been looking for you,"

Ruka's normally serene face was pinched with guilt. "Oh Alexei, I didn't realize,"

"Uh huh," said Alexei, looking sceptical. "I'm sure you didn't go off chasing down a small fry like this specifically to avoid her and whatever paperwork she needs you to do,"

Ruka flinched. Eseme, Esmeralda fully, was the former madam of the Cat Corral, and Ruka's "secretary" which was to say she more or less kept the entire Garden District Alliance running singlehandedly. Having cultivated her administrative skills to avoid being discarded by Ruka's predecessor after her youthful beauty faded Esmeralda ran a tight ship, which often meant forcefully wrangling Ruka into performing the more tedious duties of a Kaien city Matriarch.

"Noooo, I was just, well I knew I could wrap this one up quickly, before my app-" Ruka trailed off and Alexei snorted.

"So you did know you had an appointment and you still ran off to hunt small fry, leaving me to get chewed out by Esme? "

"Oh come on, I can still make it if I leave now," Ruka protested, her eyes beseeching. "If I can just leave the cleaning up here to you?.."

Alexei's brow pinched and he sighed heavily. Ruka was already jogging away.

"Wait Boss!" Alexei called and as Ruka turned around he gestured with one hand across his body, causing Ruka to look down over her blood stained clothes.

"Oh right," said the blood drenched girl, quickly she ran a hand over arms and legs, drawing the blood out of her clothes and into a floating orb of red liquid that she let fall into a nearby storm drain.

Alexei let out a rumbling exhalation. "Gotta get her to teach me how to do that," Alexei said, watching the retreating figure of his young employer. "Or stop wearing white,"

 

[Ineptitude]

Qiao Guanyu
Location: Snowsant's Heart
Interaction/s: Colorless Spectrum | Coyote Hart​

---

"If it means keeping one of my favorite customers healthy enough to keep coming back, I'd be glad to." Guanyu casually waved off Anzel's thanks, though she seemed to glow a bit under the praise. "Just know that we never had this conversation." She added in a whisper, all faux seriousness.

And where one customer left, another easily took his place. Guanyu winked in Mortas' direction, hearing his order loud and clear. It was the same old song and dance between barista and patron. With how often he stuck around the cafe he might as well have been living there. Certainly the most loyal of her customer base. As she began preparing the espresso, she made a mental note to add it to Frida's tab.

She did say she was paying for everything today, after all.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Tags: The Crimson King (Hanji) Colorless Spectrum (Quinn) Coyote Hart (Mortas)​

Kaien always had a knack for making things sour just as you find a way to settle in.

Hali Guinevere Onda stood before the entrance to Snowsant's Heart. The cafe was her favorite place to stop by; relieve any stress she had pent up, all by indulging in a sweet dessert in a cozy atmosphere... before she learned it was home to a vast spy network. Now, every edible thing here had an irremovable bitternss; it felt as though pairs of eyes set on her once she stepped through its doors; she had to watch her moves, even here. She couldn't say that she preferred a different place, however—compared to any other location, this may have been the best pick for the meeting with Fumikage.

With a quiet, drawn sigh, she stepped through the doors. The mouth-watering scents whiffed by her the moment she did so, and for a split-second she felt the tinge of relief from before she learned of this place's true nature. Then a chill down her spine as her gaze settled toward the back of the cafe. Count to four. Inhale. Count to four. Exhale. Keeping her arms together, she maintained her posture as she moved to the appointment.

Upon nearing the gathering, Hali already felt herself shrinking away. Nonetheless, she kept her chest out and chin up. She couldn't help but recognize a few faces; at some such as Frida's, she bit her lip—the only hint of nervousness Hali dared to show. She could hear the chattering of her own teeth behind her sealed lips. She was certain that if her hands let go of each other, they'd be shaking for all to see.

Finally, she noticed the man she was scheduled to meet: Hanji Fumikage. He currently conversed with two others who she knew as Matriarch Ylva and Mortas Karman. Like with Snowsant's Heart, Hali once had an ounce of relief in her heart knowing there was an moderately-sized organization that wasn't defiled—only for it to be exactly as she'd hoped against. However, she didn't know what to make of Mortas himself—she hasn't spoken with the man to begin with, but what she's heard of him was contradictory in its own right. As for the head of Ylva Logistics... she could take some comfort in knowing the most of her desires lied with money.

"I hope I am not interrupting..." Hali approached the trio, trying her damnedest not to show an inch of fear. She focused solely on Fumikage, unsure if she could handle meeting the others' glares. "Fumikage-sama, I recall we had a scheduled appointment...?"

 

[Sicarius]

Alastor Wraith

The Tormentor

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• Location: Industrial District

  
  “Absolutely… fascinating.”
  
  A slow and subtle grin gradually spread across the face of a man drenched in excessive amounts of blood, his silver hair gently waving in the light breeze that made its way through the grim alleyway in which he stood, admiring his handiwork. He brought a hand to his face, softly caressing his cheek as he smothered it with the blood from his palm. A steady cackle began to erupt throughout the alleyway, filling the otherwise dead silence save from the occasional pieces of garbage that tumbled by. He paused, recollecting himself before kneeling down to look at the aftermath of his latest prototype.
  
  “Primitive. Chaotic. Distasteful. I am in awe of my limitless creativity.” He declared, praising himself shamelessly.
  
  “Well, all good things come to an end; time to clean up.”
  
  

  ***​

  
  As Alastor was finishing the deep cleaning of his usual attire, he took a look around his shop. Modern day luxuries, trinkets, collectibles, personal care, and other oddities were splayed about in a rather sporadic fashion. He was no specialist in any particular item or product, he simply manufactured what was needed by the commonplace man. If he did not have such an aggressive disposition, one might not suspect Alastor to be half the twisted man that he was. Despite his obvious condescending and harrowing demeanor, his storefront did indeed appeal to the commoner. It projected the facade of a humble craftsman’s general store, one that was run by honest blood, sweat, and tears. Though the only blood, sweat, and tears from this store came from the tortured victims from below the shop’s main floor; hidden away from any unsuspecting patron.
  
  Alastor inhaled deeply, before letting out a defeated sigh.
  
  “Cleanup always was the most taxing part of the whole process.” He said to himself as he shook his head slightly.
  
  Eventually, the iniquitous man had fulfilled his menial tasks for the day and sat down in his nearby rocking chair while grasping a cup of relaxing hot tea. Tea was not entirely his preference, but he had run out of his stock of espresso beans and thus had to substitute for his usual source of caffeine.
  
  “I heard about an exquisite cafe on the surface level that is endorsed for having the most splendid roasts. I will have to make a trip out at some point in the future.” He mumbled to himself.
  
  Conservatively sipping his tea, Alastor pondered what the rest of the day had in store for him. He did not particularly have any plans for the day, and he had already decided he would not open up shop. Today was a day to revel in the recent work he had accomplished; further developing his technology and seeing it successfully applied in the field. Now, all that remained were mere trifles; small errands that needed to be seen to whenever he felt like it. The steam that rose up from his tea brushed against his nose as he embraced the warmth of the hot liquid; savoring in the feeling it brought before indulging himself in another sip.
  
  “I suppose that today might be the day I choose to visit this… Snowsant’s Heart. It has been a while since I have last ventured to the surface level. I cannot even begin to recall the last time I ever saw its streets.” Alastor decided.
  
  He rose from his chair, placed the tea cup on the table next to him, put on his jacket and made his way outside of his store.
  
  

  ***​

  
  Hands in his pockets, Alastor casually strode along the sidewalk as he began his trek towards the surface level.
  
  “Your caffeine addiction will be the end of you, dearest. You mustn't absorb yourself in its properties; it can bring about an unwanted reliance.”
  
  “Quiet, Lilith. I did not consent to my day being ravished by your dreadful lectures.”
  
  “It would do you good to listen to me for once.”
  
  “No good has ever come to a man listening to the wiles of a dead woman.”
  
  The streets were largely empty, as during this time most people were either working or scrounging up what funds they could to purchase goods from the surface. Alastor paid the atmosphere no mind as he continued on his journey toward Snowsant’s Heart, occasionally taking glances at his sides to remain the ever vigilant ex-mage. After all, one that is being hunted must never allow themself to remain unguarded; even in an environment that practically belonged to them. Just as he was readjusting his sights toward the main path, Alastor caught a slight glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. He tilted his head in the direction he saw the movement, noting that it had come from the rooftops of the nearby buildings.
  
  “Curious…”
  
  With no hesitation and with complete disregard for his original plans, Alastor scaled one of the buildings as quickly as he humanly could, hoping he would be able to catch up to whatever was traversing the district in such a covert fashion.
  
  He was athletic enough to gain some distance on the unknown entities, leaping from roof to roof and maintaining a steady pace. He could however, begin to feel his breaths becoming shallow and his heart pounding. It was an exhilarating experience, being on the hunt. He was not entirely used to trailing anything, much less navigating the tops of buildings. He rather relied on his cunning, strategy, and technology.
  
  Eventually he had become within respectable distance, and once his eyes were able to make out the mysterious entities his eyes widened and his brows furrowed.
  
  What the hell are Homunculi doing here?! Have they sent them after me?
  
  Ever more intrigued as well as marginally intimidated, Alastor ensured he tread more carefully while continuing his pursuit. He paid close attention to every movement the Homunculi made, mimicking their steps and copying their turns and twists so that he could follow after them without having to be within range of their sensing capabilities.
  
  After what felt like eons to the now heavily winded Alastor, he came upon a secluded fortress hidden deep within the district behind droves of abandoned buildings; many of which were foreclosed or completely condemned.
  
  How could I have possibly been unaware of this location? I know every nook and cranny of this hellhole.
  
  The Homunculi made their way down the last building and onto the ground floor, standing in front of the entrance to the fortress. Alastor stealthily followed suit; only stopping short of the wall of a building nearby to hide himself from the creatures while he could observe from a safe distance. Within moments the doors opened, and the Homunculi scurried in.
  
  Confident that they were no longer a threat to him nor aware of his presence, Alastor made his way towards the entrance. He examined the doorway as well as its walls, being careful not to make any physical contact with them in the event that they might be guarded by some unobservable magic. He was unsure how exactly they were reinforced, but he was certain that magitek was completely out of the picture. After all, it was heresy to the Mage’s Association. It was both entirely plausible and probable that it was protected by a form of magic. Though, it had been a great many years since Alastor was involved, and The Mage’s Association were never the type to rely on archaic methods. Surely they would have devised a new method that Alastor was not yet familiar with, so his knowledge from his time in The Association could partially be obsolete.
  
  Suddenly, Alastor had an eerie feeling as if he were being watched. Not wanting to stand idly and vulnerable, the silver haired patriarch ducked into the nearest alleyway and began making his way back home.
  
• Tags:

  None.
• Important Notes:

  N/A
  
  

code by Nano

-->

 

[Coyote Hart]

​

---

Mortas spared Quinn a cursory glance and a friendly smile as a greeting before he began to genuinely listen to what Hanji was bringing to the table. It was only due to Quinn's networks that Mortas was able to be as powerful as he was. As such, whenever he had the opportunity to sit beside her, that feeling of debt always weighed upon his mind.

As Mortas listened to Hanji brief him about the situation they were in, Mortas dug through his scrappy folios to take out any information regarding the Forum that he had gathered. Nothing. Mortas frowned. He didn't like that. Mortas took out a notepad, and with a fountain pen jotted down the information that Hanji was able to provide for them.

"It shouldn't be too hard to break in," Mortas said, his terrible logic skills showing themselves once again, "If I have trouble paying the damned electricity bills, I doubt the Forum has been running technologically good security systems without going bankrupt."

But nonetheless, if Fumikage-sama wanted him to partake, Mortas wasn't going to refuse. It was a good opportunity for him to build up his reputation.

"While I want to help, I will unfortunately be busy for the time being, and I won't be able to go infiltrate there myself," Mortas said, rubbing his chin, "However, there is a magi intern that works at the Karman Detective Agency, who goes by the name Lou. I think he'd be personally invested in a case like this, and would probably be happy to help out. I originally sent him to keep an eye on the area, but he has enough knowledge to help the infiltration."

Nevermind the fact that Lou was an unpaid intern, and if Mortas sent him over to infiltrate, it would mean he didn't have to budget more money into the month's payroll. Lou was an unusual fella. He was bright and intelligent, watching his superiors with eyes filled with fascination as they gruesomely demonstrated how to assassinate. A monster, some would say, if they were able to see past the mild-mannered boy whose role was to mostly care for the lemon trees. Mortas was glad he was able to grab the young lad in the internship applicant pool-- if LOTUS had gotten their hands on someone like him, it would mean trouble, although Mortas wasn't sure whether Lou's Russian heritage would disqualify him or not.

"The boy has had plenty of training the past three years, I'm sure he'll perform well," Mortas said in praise, "And it'll be a great opportunity for him to see what it is like to work with the other crime families."

There was another reason that Mortas was sending Lou-- symbolism. If Mortas himself went to do reconnaissance, it would imply that the Karman Detective Agency wasn't powerful, for why else would the leader of the institution dirty his own hands-on such an unimportant task? By sending Lou, it would be a veiled warning to the others that Mortas was getting more powerful.

Mortas tapped his chin, trying to think of any other input. But at that time, a bubblegum haired woman entered the room. She wasn't familiar to Mortas, although he felt an inkling of recognition. While it was bold for her to interrupt their chat, nothing on her face screamed audacity at all, rather Mortas got the impression she wanted to be anywhere but here. That annoyed Mortas. He wanted the parents to put up a greater fight against him, so that when he finally defeated them and rose up at the top, his strength would be undeniable.

If it were the Rhongomiant in the meeting, Mortas would've pat a seat and asked the woman to take a seat with them, subverting Hanji's unspoken authority. But it wasn't the Rhongomiant in control, and Mortas had quite a bit of self-preservation; an angry Hanji could very quickly cut him into pieces when Mortas was in the state that he was in.

So instead, Mortas leaned into his annoyance and commented, "You're not interrupting me, although I can't say for my other two friends. What is a parent after all if not someone who is superior enough to require the time of people below them?"

The Crimson King Colorless Spectrum AriAriAbabwa

 

[LazyDaze]

Game Night with a Bowling Champ Act II

Starring Ambiloquous LazyDaze


Her brows wrinkled for less than a millisecond before they automatically smoothed out, as Erika’s default programming was built to do in cases like these. Not literal programming, of course, she was no television show scheduler — if there even was a job so particular.

Without warning a familiar gust of wind could be felt bursting forth when Yanlin started his sprint toward the lone chair. He was easily beating out all participants before having to screech to an abrupt halt, barely avoiding a butter knife rotating at such a velocity that it would have likely cracked his skull. Yes Yanlin was fast, but if he were going in a straight path, it was easy to predict where he would end up. For someone like Song, predicting his movements was child's play. The Xue Patriarch then reached for his blade, but thought better of it once he saw a growing shadow beneath him. He quickly jumped to the side to avoid a descending Yahzue who bore his two blades like the fangs of a saber tooth tiger reading themselves to sink into the flesh of their prey only to settle for piercing the ground. Meanwhile the others had also began their battles while moving toward the chair to claim victory.

Dodging to the side, Erika eyed Song’s predicament, pondered a bit on the pros and cons of helping the man, and came to a resolution that he clearly needed no help. Instead, she should make to steal the chair when he inevitably won against the Y&Y group. It was a decision definitely not fueled by her own opinion of the patriarch, no. Besides, he seemed to be quite content to fight everyone by himself, so who was she to halt his jovial spirit?

The brawling scene around the chair wasn’t exactly a location suited for steering clear of loose attacks, so she made sure she was away from the disorderly crowd surrounding the objective for the game — she’d much rather try tactics that didn’t involve bashing her way through. She combed through the evolutionary branches for the grasping limb of a well-known cephalopod before reaching it with a triumphant smile. Tonight, it appeared that camouflaging adaptations would be receiving a lot of use. She set her new tentacle-arm to the shade of the ceiling as she set it crawling above to reach the area where the seat stood innocently as the center of a bloodbath. Though it was more like a blood puddle, she digressed.

As a random fellow was thrown out of the group around the chair to a place near her, she inched over to the slowly groaning man and gave him a hard kick to the head. He went silent, knocked out for the round. One less opponent meant a higher chance that she would win the game. It didn’t matter if they were whimpering on the ground in pain or not; if they were awake, they were a competitor. No proper matriarch would allow for that.

Her current position was too open — as could be seen by the human projectile — but she didn’t want to spend the energy for a bunker-esque tactic, so she contemplated for a moment before letting go of her enhanced legs. She formed a few more sucker-covered appendages to stick herself to the ceiling corner, relatively satisfied with her plan. There, now she was but a gold-colored blob. Rarely did people look up at the ceiling, and most sword attacks wouldn’t reach at this height. Unless people started throwing their blades, daggers, or ranged weapons at her, she would be better off up there than staying on the ground.

In the meantime, Song was going toe to toe with Yahzue. Most of the other clan members were fighting amongst themselves as a perimeter opened up around the two high leveled foes. An argument could have been made that it was the body's self preservation instinct that resulted in the phenomenon.

“You seem extra worked up today Yahzue, Son of the Sword.”

Song smirked as he playfully parried Yahzue’s flurry.

“Ha, you can kindly shove that moniker up your ass. I don’t even deserve to bear the Xue clan name!”

Yahzue’s attacks suddenly became wild, and overwhelming as if he was taken in by a fit of rage. One attack in particular had so much force behind it that it pushed Song closer to the center of the room.

“And that’s checkmate,”

Yahzue said with a satisfied grin on his face just before a gust of wind blew in between them. Song took a deep breath, concentrating on the air around him knowing that Yanlin was closing in for a strike. Those milliseconds seemed like hours as Song reached out toward the approaching Yanlin, his fingers inches away from his head, but to Song’s surprise, when he went to grab him, Yanlin wasn’t there. Song then moved his head inches to his left as a gust of wind once again brushed past him. Droplets of blood rolled down his face while a slit opened up across his cheek.

“Surprised,”

Yahzue asked in a smug tone to hide the fact that he was cursing Song’s unworldly instincts to survive a perfectly laid trap.

“Pleasantly so,”

Song said while observing the blood on his face.

“Has our little Yanlin gotten even faster?”

Yanlin skid to a stop and exhaled.

“I’ve developed these patterns to counter my predictable directions, vectors, and destinations. By practicing a preset pattern of movements endlessly, my muscle memory has shed any delays from my brain to my muscles thus making me appear faster, quicker, more nimble. However, the downside is that this ability is relatively new, so my reaction speed can’t keep up with my actual speed. In essence, I’m not reacting to much of anything while using these patterns. I have about 15 patterns in total so as to keep the enemy guessing.”

“And what’s more,”

Yahzue started.

“Wait you understood that,”

Song said.

“Of course! As luck would have it, we have been training together before these games, so only I know how to compliment Yanlin at these high speeds,”

Yahzue said without giving anything crucial away. Yes it was pure chance that they happened to work together before this Blizzard, but it was nothing short of Qiang’s handiwork that they managed to draw the same card.

“Now…I’ll take my leave,”

Yahzue said with a bow before running towards the lone chair. Before Song could chase after Yahzue, Yanlin took a deep breath and disappeared. Several straight line gusts burst through the room; one nearly taking off Song’s outstretched hand. Other competitors were sent flying when they met Yanlin’s guests. Meanwhile, Yahzue was running, side stepping, and leaping over these gusts. Song could only come to one conclusion, Yahzue knew where Yanlin would wind up while he didn’t. Song would be right. Yahzue, and Yanlin worked so diligently to cover each other while Yanlin developed this technique to the point that Yahzue could anticipate which pattern would be used, as well as the gaps within the pattern.

Song took a blunt force strike to the rib before trying to retaliate, just barely missing Yanlin. He then took another strike to his shoulder. Song couldn’t help but think that if he were using his parent abilities, a strategy like this would have been nothing to handle; however, he had to give it to Yahzue, and Yanlin for the innovation. They didn’t have any parental abilities, yet they developed a strategy that could even give Song trouble. Make no mistake, Yanlin's attacks were doing little to hurt Song and if this was a battle of attrition then Song would easily best the two high ranking members. However, if nothing was done, Yahzue would reach the seat and attain victory without actually having to go through Song. In spite of this, for all their planning and forethought, everyone had seemed to have forgotten the other parent unexpectedly taking place in these games.

Hanging high above the ongoing battle, that other parent concentrated on snaking their extra limb to the area above the coveted chair. She had been waiting for the ideal moment to drop. She had been waiting as she watched the LOTUS patriarch’s confrontation with the two Ya prefixes play out. She had been waiting as she stared at the Song Xue below her receiving blows — that made her a little happy to see; she almost thought him a little more endearing now, beaten up. She had been wait — there! Tensing herself, she pushed her new arm off the golden ceiling and watched it fall onto the objective of the game. Shifting gears to reinforce her appendage, she readied herself to pull it back up, furniture piece in tow.

While Song dealt with Yanlin’s new ability, Yahzue inched closer and closer to the chair…close enough to see something peculiar. “What the hell is that,” Yahzue said as his urgency increased. He wouldn’t be able to readily identify what it was, but he knew it was some foreign entity interfering with the game. It was difficult to see since it blended in with the surroundings, but upon close inspection it definitely seemed as if something rather “alien” was grasping for the chair. “I don’t know what you are, but you won’t take this victory away from me!” Yahzue took one of his two swords and flung it towards Erika’s arm like a spinning boomerang set to cut Erika’s tether while sprinting toward the chair himself.

The matriarch with octopus limbs winced unnoticeably at the sight of Yahzue and the sword-boomerang and promptly started hauling the wooden load in her direction, even knowing that she would be too late to dodge the slice. Her brain spun rapidly — how could she block the attack, if she couldn’t avoid it? She tilted the chair in the direction of the thrown sword, hoping it would cut into the chair and not her newly grown arm. Needless to say, the sword continued its course and struck the chair, easily piercing through the wooden chair. A faint cracking sound could be heard after the sword became lodged in the chair, and then another. This cracking sound would culminate in a large fissure that would rip the chair in halves. One piece, falling toward the ground, and the other being held by Erika. The matriarch hissed, observing the tip of her tentacle falling away and plopping to the ground. Near instantly it started reforming, but for it to finish would take time that she did not have. Yanlin skid to another stop as he and Song both turned toward the source of the foreboding sound. It was then that the holographic monitor reappeared.

“Okay, who was the dumbass who destroyed the only chair,” Xiuyang started. “If you’re hearing this message then that means that everyone’s a loser and no one from this room moves on……just kidding! To win, all you have to do is assemble all the broken pieces and sit atop the remains; however, since I have no idea what condition that very, very, VERY expensive chair is in, we'll be giving you a time limit! You’ve just made your job ten times harder for no reason at all. If no one is sitting on the chair by the time limit then my first joke won’t be a joke. Looking forward to seeing you fail! Oh….the script said prevail? Whoops!”

Xiuyang was replaced with a 5 minute timer as red emergency lights started to shift on and off. It was pretty much a two team race at this point, but there were those who suddenly became reinvigorated by a shift in momentum. Yanlin inhaled deeply before bursting toward a nearby wall. He would scamper up a wall and then across the ceiling toward Erika, or at the very least the arm that dangled down from the ceiling. Yanlin’s only objective was detaching the chair from the unknown entity. Other enemies, attempting to get the final chair piece would now start targeting Erika, throwing shuriken and any matter of odd objects toward the levitating seat. Others would start fighting over the fallen piece, both useless without the other. Yahzue snickered when he discovered the aftermath of his actions, all he could do was draw his sword and continue this ridiculous game of musical chairs.

Receiving a few more injuries for her trouble and sighing mentally at the blurring Yanlin, she squinted at the unruly chair and scanned the room for her game partner. She caught Song near the outer rounds of the projectile frenzy and immediately threw the hassle of an object away, directly towards the man moving ever closer to the carnage. Since she had done all the meaningful labour so far, it was fine for him to secure the fruits of her efforts and safeguard it then, was it not? The moment the chair was tossed out like day-old detritus, she deactivated her mangled limb — optimistically, it would have disappeared before Yanlin reached it, but he was a fair bit too swift to be sure. Yanlin released a few ragged breaths while sliding down the wall. There was a bit of blood on his knife, but he could tell by the amount of blood on his knife that he hadn’t landed a fatal hit. Yanlin took a step forward before feeling a brief jolt of pain in his leg that stopped his advancement. He had been running at top speed for some time, using a technique that was really meant to be his finishing move; it was a testament to Song and his partner’s strength. Without overusing that technique, the match would have been over by now. Yanlin shook his head, rubbing the soreness out of his legs as he watched the chair fall from the ceiling and into…

Song raised his hand, casually snatching the chair out of the air. He took his time observing the chaos, the timer, Erika. He then looked toward that mass of chaos moving in his direction. Perhaps it was a good thing the chair got bifurcated. After all, it gave him an excuse to end this game quickly. Song sheathed his sword temporarily in order to loosen his tie before placing his hand back on the hilt of the blade.

“Okay Erika, I think I’ve had my fun on this floor,”

he said with a cheerful smile before bursting forth, chair in tow. Song dodged the first feeble attempt at removing the chair from his grasp by ducking underneath a horizontal slash. He then grabbed the arm of a nearby clan member, spinning him around so he would collide with the first attacker. Drawing his sword, he knocked back several shuriken while continuing his advance through the chaos. One by one, his opponents fell; even those interlocked in their own battles met similar fates. When he finally made it past the fodder, a smirking Yahzue could be seen waiting for him…with the other half of the chair.

2 minutes left ​

Song took a step forward; however, a burst of wind shot toward him from his right. As inhuman as it was, Song jumped into a horizontal spin as Yanlin harmlessly bursted below him. Yanlin would slide to a stop next to Yahzue after missing his target, touching the back of his head while gazing upon the blonde strands falling at Song’s feet.

“W…what the hell are you? They said no killing, causing untimely death, life voiding! You couldn’t have already adjusted to my speed. That had to be luck, chance, a fortunate turn of events.”

“Yanlin, calm down. His partner seems to be inept in combat, and now Song has to deal with both of us.”

Yahzue put his half of the chair on the ground before picking up a blade that had been lying on the ground. From what he could determine this Erika had a plethora of troublesome abilities, but she had mostly resigned herself to stay out of the fight and use underhanded tactics to win. With the return of the two team race, he was confident that he wouldn’t be surprised again since he would be looking for it.

“Don’t tell me you plan to fight us holding that bulky thing? By yourself no less? Tell the outsider to come out and play.”

Song looked toward the ceiling as if to tell Erika to be ready. The enemy had only prioritized her before since she was so close to winning, but he couldn’t help but feel as if they were taking her too lightly. Even if she wasn’t a fighter, she was a matriarch in this god forsaken city. No, this wouldn’t do. Song would be sure to whip these two into shape after this was all over.

“She probably doesn’t want to waste her time,”

Song said with a smile.

“Why she could probably fend you off with a butter knife.”

As the two Y-lettered LOTUS members and Song discussed her not-yet-seen combat ability, she inched herself along the ceiling with her many flexible arms until she halted above Yahzue’s head. Her leg bones shifted and muscles tore apart and reformed as she fashioned kangaroo-like hind limbs, and she pressed herself back into the plaster of the ceiling to form a sort of biological spring. Her fingers were still coated in the toxin she had dipped them into back when they were still taking part in the atrium struggle, and she believed if she managed to touch Yazhue and break skin, their victory would be all but guaranteed. With no extra warning, she released the appendages that held her to the ceiling — they vanished with no fanfare — and pushed off. Stretching fingers that had grown razor-edged and stiff, she reached for her target as she hurtled down like a vaguely human-shaped comet.

1 min 34 seconds​

Yahzue snickered, finally she acted. Granted, it was more likely due to the time limit and current circumstances; however, the Son of the Sword wanted to believe he baited her into it. Even with that, he couldn’t have been prepared for how fast she bursted from the ceiling to his position; however, before he would succumb to the toxic comet Yahzue felt a hand press against his back. It was Yanlin. With his level of perception, and speed Yanlin was able to push Yahzue to safety. Yes he was fast enough to avoid severe damage, but Erika managed to nick Yanlin’s left shoulder as his momentum carried him forward. Yanlin immediately backed away from Erika next to his half of the chair to avoid any more of her surprises. Before he could even say anything he found himself falling to one knee. His vision was becoming blurry. Yanlin pondered if it was fatigue, or overuse of his ability, but even he knew this was too severe and sudden of a reaction. This must have been the work of the matriarch. Whatever the case was, it wasn’t getting any better…it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that his time in this game was limited. Gritting his teeth Yanlin knew the only thing he could do was protect their half of this puzzle as long as he could.

“Yahzue will definitely beat Song and win this game for us. I’ll just have to hold out for as long as I can. Parent, or not I won’t be the reason we lose, get defeated, meet our demise.”

Yanlin quivered to a stand, took a deep breath then disappeared as gusts of wind burst in a unique pattern around and above the chair like a pin pall bursting throughout the room to keep Erika at bay. This would be his last pattern.

Deactivating her marsupial limbs, the Böhler matriarch's mind spun at high speeds as she considered straightforwardly armouring up and making a dash for the half-chair. If she could pause Yanlin for a few moments and stick him to the ground, that would be another way — but not one that she found reasonable within the time she had left. Certainly, there were natural adhesives that she could form and release through her skin, but then she would just be asking the other to stick to herself, and she’d rather not have that. Bone javelins used up too much material and disappeared if she released the mutation, so there would be none of that either. In the end, she dawdled and dithered between the choices until she finally just constructed a dome-shaped shell and dashed into the fray with sticky limbs to cling to wooden furniture once she reached it.

1:10
Yahzue, on the other hand, cursed at himself for underestimating his opponent to such an extent. He had been ready for her attack, but his own arrogance led him to getting saved by Yanlin. He didn’t even look back as the fight between Erika and Yanlin took place since there was so little time left.

“Well that was embarrassing,”

Song said as Yahzue charged in his direction. If his goal was to make Yahzue angry, it worked. The Son of the Sword attacked Song’s base, hoping to get him off balance since he was fighting while holding the clunky piece of furniture. Song easily saw through his intent, raising his lead foot and stepping on the blade before countering with his own downward slash that prompted Yahzue to release his blade to avoid a direct hit. Song continued to pressure Yahzue with seemingly wild and heavy strikes uncommon to the normal Xue clan fighting style. Although Yahzue struggled to block the attacks while retreating, he managed to dodge a blow meant for his head and counter perfectly with a textbook upward slash to his Song’s body. This was it, Yahzue could taste victory.

50 seconds​

Yanlin knew it was a desperate attempt to stop Erika with his technique. He was literally standing on his last legs, but willpower was not enough to overcome the power gap, or her versatility. It was only seconds, but for Yanlin it felt more like minutes passing. In his current state he wouldn’t have been able to know what Erika had planned, what she was thinking, or if she was even falling for his trap at all, he could only run. Finally, force met against force. Without warning Yanlin felt the force of the collision reverberate through his body as he was pushed back after running into Erika. Suddenly, he was thankful for whatever magic was causing him to black out. So this was the power of a matriarch. The power of the people Song had to contend with. It would only inspire him to get stronger. Yanlin blacked out.

32 seconds​

Song flipped into the air, performing a half twist as he narrowly missed getting struck by Yahzue’s rising strike. The enemy strike connected with the chair instead, splitting it in two while Song descended in between the two pieces, finishing his flip with a strike that stopped just short of Yahzue’s neck. The force of what would have been a death blow rushed over the 2nd ranked LOTUS member as he descended into shock. It was unorthodox, against their textbook teachings, and yet he had been utterly defeated by it. Yahzue dropped to his knees, admitting his own defeat by releasing his last blade.

“You better win this whole thing,”

Yahzue said with a shaky laugh.

“Sure thing,”

Song said with a laugh of his own. He took the two pieces of his already halved chair and stuck his sword through them so that they would stick together, recompleting the “half” chair. He then held the hilt of that blade and spun 4 times before tossing the chair in Erika’s direction. She would have to do the rest.

14 seconds​

Erika stared at the fainted Yanlin, slightly stunned that the man had been defeated just like that, but she had no time to think on it, as Song threw the quartered chair segments at her. Growing more arms for her temporary construction project, she carefully placed the sections together and hurriedly sat down with little to no seconds to spare. A holographic image showing an image of Song, and Erika (likely pictures taken by Qiang without their knowledge), and the word WINNER in all of its green obnoxious glory popped up above the Sword Fairy herself. Xiuyang once again replaced the image as yet another pre-recorded message began.

“Congratulations, you are now the musical chair champions! Whether it was because of your prowess or all that junk in your trunk, you parked that thang on that thang and now you’re moving on! There will be a short intermission to take care of the injured, and give contestants a chance to recuperate before moving on to the next round. Please wait where you are as we adjust the death co….minor injuries.”

⚔​

Qiang leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. He hadn’t had so much fun in a long time. Unlike many of his brethren, living and dying by the sword was as dull as crustless bread. Qiang was by no means inept at fighting; however, his joy derived from other things. Solving this puzzle of Erika was leagues more stimulating. Even now he was mentally compiling her abilities and potential.

“Not even Yanlin and Yahzue stood a chance against those monsters. If that’s the case then what the hell am I even doing,”

Qiang said with a laugh. It was a bit of an over exaggeration. Under different circumstances he was certain that the duo would have had a better showing; nevertheless, this encounter would teach them a good lesson and make them stronger.

“That’s a good question,”

Xiuyang said as she waltzed into the room.

“Why did you invite the shiny haired bitch? Pairing her with Song is a bit of overkill don’t you think?”

“Ah Xiuyang, so nice of you to knock. Please come in, the door is open,”

Qiang said sarcastically without looking in her direction.

“Don’t give me that Qiang. If I lose any members of my fanclub…”

“To answer your question,”

Qiang started.

“I wanted to give Song and myself the opportunity to observe her closely without leaving it to chance. You don’t get the opportunity to see a parent in action this closely everyday.”

“Our Song? Observe,”

Xiuyang asked between chuckles.

“All the more reason to keep it as close as possible. Furthermore, given the legend of these parents and their prowess, who's to say she wouldn’t have beaten Song handedly. Even if he’s lost before, it would be an entirely different story falling to an outsider. Blasphemous I know, but it would have been a bad look to bring in an outsider only to embarrass the family name and our patriarch so handedly. By placing them on the same team we can always say Song carried the team if he wins, and blame her if he loses. Win win.”

Xiuyang tapped her foot as she pondered on his words before sighing in defeat. “Even so, if it’s that much trouble, should you have even invited her in the first place?”

“I think she’s lying to get close to Song. As I said before I wanted to analyze her…..and I’m incredibly bored.”

“The cat’s finally out of the bag,”

Xiuyang said with a smile.

“Looks like you might get more than you asked for this time around.”

“Don’t worry, this old dog still has some tricks up his sleeve.”

⚔​

Song stepped over the many unconscious bodies as the medics came charging through the doors. Yahzue, who hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, was walking along with him, albeit begrudgingly. Song had seen this many times before, so the background noise was akin to leaves rustling in a park. Once he reached Erika, he offered a hand to help her stand. No, this was not a gesture of kindness on his part, rather he needed her to get up so he could pull his sword out of the chair. Take care of the important things first after all.

“Sooooooo,”

Song started.

“How was it? Your first victory? Gotta say it was a nice touch with the explosives, but I was sad to see they did away with the armored alligators…..”

Jolting up from her seat and dodging his hand by patting down her dress for nonexistent dust particles on the way up, she removed the extraneous limbs from her hasty fix-up — the chair collapsed into its parts with a puff of sawdust behind her — and debated quitting the night entirely. Once she felt her mood settle into “just a few more, and it’ll be over” and not the decidedly more unproductive “get me out of here”, she looked up at his face and smiled faintly. Her voice was both lifeless and overly animated as she said,

“It was a thrilling game, certainly. Winning was unexpected, but a nice touch to the evening. Yes, armored alligators sound like a grand time. Haha.”

She deliberately did not glance at Yahzue on the side, hoping that the losing party hadn’t come here to converse with her. The matriarch wanted to mediate on her faulty selection system in peace for the betterment of her future, and she couldn’t do that with an audience of more than one — her conversation autopilot simply wasn’t advanced enough for it yet.

Song moved past Erika after she stepped up and dusted herself off. With a single tug he ripped his blade from the chair and sheathed it before the wave of panic had a chance to cast its spell on him.

“If you think that was unexpected, you should have been here when Gary-”

Yahzue stepped forward before Song could finish his sentence as if the gods had read her mind and realized the comedic potential of the situation. His eyes seemed to roam everywhere except Erika’s position. For a brief moment his eyes rested on Yanlin being carried out on a stretcher and out the room. It was just another reminder of his previous failures and inadequacies. Then without warning Yahzue face planted on the ground with such speed and force that blood began to leak from his forehead.

“MY SORROW RUNS DEEPER THAN THIS VERY MOUNTAIN HOUSING OUR EXISTENCE! I YAHZUE XUE WILL NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOU AGAIN! PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGY OR MY DEATH! IF IT ISN’T ENOUGH I’LL SERVE AS YOUR RETAINER! I’LL EVEN-"

While Yahzue continued to devalue his existence, Song took a step next to Erika and gazed upon the prostrating Yahzue. He took a few casual licks of the lollipop he snagged from one of the doctors passing by while taking it all in.

“Oh he’s doing it again. The readers were probably wondering what his quirk was. I don’t think there’s anyone more honorable than Yahzue now that I think about it….”

Erika was startled out of her contemplation by the loud howling Yazhue took to doing and promptly proceeded to stare at the prostrating man in front of her — if she didn’t have quite so much control over her features, her mouth would have dropped open at the scene. Ignoring Song Xue and his incomprehensible nonsense, she hurriedly took a single step back and laughed dryly to cover up her discomfort.

“I accept your apology. Please stand, I have no need for a death nor another retainer.”

Especially one whose allegiance was not her own — but she kept that sentence to herself for fear of causing another outbreak of emotional yowling. That reasoning didn’t even include the fact that the one who his allegiance lay happened to be standing exactly beside her, licking a lollipop that he had somehow gotten. Why did the LOTUS employees swear allegiance to such a man again? She spoke up before her mind could twist into another tangent — or Yahzue could fall into another bout of madness —

“Where did you say the next game was?”

Yahzue rose to a stand with the blood freely running down his face.

“Your kindness will never be forgotten. I will name my 12th child after you as I’ve already promised the other 11 names to others. I pray we meet again.”

With another deep….deep bow, Yahzue was snatched up by a gang of medics who noticed the blood dripping down his face and hauled out of the room. Song sighed at the incompetence of his subordinates before pondering on Erika’s question. He took out his lollipop to speak before Xiuyang once again popped up on the monitor.

“Hello lovelies……Erika. Alrighty, no one died!.....unofficially. Now that we have had a break, the next games are underway! Notable upsets included Yanlin and Yahzue being defeated by Erika and Song in musical chairs. This is Yanlin’s first loss in the event. Everyone’s favorite underdog Gary and his partner Mary Xue made it to the second round by bartering a pizza and distracting the enemy with a handstand. Ai and The Fortress also cleared their room the fastest. With the important updates complete, let’s tell you weirdos where to go! Ahem, all rooms should possess an elevator that you can access via your cards. Swiping the card given to you at the beginning of these games will give you access to the elevator. Once you reach the second floor, you will be tasked with reaching one of these four rooms!”

A map of the second floor was swapped with Xiuyang’s image. The target areas were marked and a smaller image of Xiuyang appeared in the upper left corner of the monitor.

“But just like before, it won’t be so easy! There will be a floor game to serve as a roadblock to your next game. The floor game is Hide and Seek! There will be several security lights mounted on the wall. Avoid these lights and everything will be fine! If you get caught you lose! ANYWHO, that’s all in the past! The game resumes now!”

Song made eye contact with Erika and then shrugged his shoulders after Xiuyang’s announcements had ended. It was as if he was telling Erika that should answer her question. The games would continue, but there was only one tiny problem. “Erika, I have to be honest with you. I don’t think I’ve advanced in any Blizzard Games that have included hide and seek." The manner in which he stated this fact was akin to someone bragging about being last place which would have only made the statement all the more troublesome. Surely this was pure luck, or rather the lack there of, and certainly not Qiang pulling the strings from behind the scenes to test Song and Erika. With, or without luck the second round had begun.

ROUND 2
FLOOR GAME: HIDE AND SEEK

MUSICAL CHAIRS

 

[The Crimson King]

Fumikage Hanji
Interacting with: AriAriAbabwa
Coyote Hart Colorless Spectrum

The detective seemed to have a lot of faith in his young protégé, to which he could not reciprocate, but by the genuine expression on his face and the way he gave an assuring nod, Hanji seemed sure he would prove himself, musing,
“Our schedules must look similar, as I’ll also be keeping busy. I’ll send my second in my stead, Miss Godfrey, you’ve likely heard of her exploits in Arashikage’s ring,” he hums with a tilt of his head in the matriarch’s direction, “much like you, I realize, Matriarch Ylva. With the added leverage of my boon in her hands, well suited for situations such as these, our victory is assured.”
His gaze shifted to the entrance, his eyes softening at the sight of the young Matriarch Onda, and how clearly frightened she was. What a shame, he thought, as their previous meetings had been not at all helpful to create a positive impression of the already very intimidating patriarch, so now would have to be the time to tell her that he wasn’t out to get her. He removed his jacket, revealing the navy blue shirt he wore beneath, which did well to make him seem smaller, and his sunglasses, which he set upon the floor beside the couch, the usually eerie glow of his eyes mixed with the evening light from the nearby windows, making him seem much less pale. He gave her a warm smile as she walked over, making sure not to bare his teeth as his did, which he heard usually just unnerved people instead of comforting them, though he couldn’t help but flash a look of annoyance at the detective, who spoke out of turn,
“Mr. Karman. Don’t mind that snide comment, Madam Onda. We aren’t owed anything from you, not even your time, and we are by no means your superiors, so there’s no need for such formality. You honor us with your resplendent presence. I had planned to return to my office and offer you some hospitality, yet you’ve pleasantly surprised me with your gorgeous frugality. You’re most welcome to join us.”
With a small gesture of his false hand, he gently offered the seat beside him. ​

 

[Xanto]

Zenjiro Arashikage ft. Parker "Pablo" Bloom​

"Right step, block-," Parker's dark silhouette roughly shifted down the dimly lit alley as he pivoted into a re-direct block with his right shoulder. The tricky move was the start of a smooth take down sequence he'd seen in the most recent underground fight. Maybe one day he'd be able to try it out himself. Huff. The blue-eyed teen let out a puff of air before shoving his hands into his pockets then continuing down the road. There was that smell again. Fresh wet cement after the rain made his nose twitch. . . Not that the quirk was important. Yet there wasn't much else to think about on the way home after some underground rounds. Parker silently peered up at the dawn sky. He always felt bittersweet about these calm walks.

Whoosh.

The teen sorcerer immediately brought his attention back to level before jumping at the sudden character in front of him. "Woah-" Parker nodded at the dark-hooded figure walking his direction, "What's good?" He respectfully stepped aside to move out the man's path . . but the man stepped in the same direction. So, Parker stepped to the other side. It happened again. You know that awkward step dance? -Kept happening. Parker's brows slightly furrowed in confusion before one raised in curiosity, "Tell you what, we both go right." Then, as soon as the young teen stepped right, the hooded figure swung. "Block!" Parker shouted in routine practice from his earlier reenactment. He swiftly dug his right shoulder into a re-direct block, grabbing the hooded figure's left arm over his shoulder and pulling it inward to flip him.

But he landed on his feet. "That wasn't supposed to happen-," Parker stated as his attacker whipped out a blade in time for him to block the attack with the iron rings lined up along his forearms, "Sheesh!" Ah, but this guy was quick. The hooded figure proceeded with rapid upper body attacks, swiftly bringing his sword down to push Parker to the side he wanted him in. Meanwhile, the young sorcerer strongly held his ground, persistently blocking each sword swipe with his iron rings. All while stepping in the hooded figure's desired pattern. All till he felt his leg lock at the figure's calculated step. "Gah!" Parker's knee buckled down after an angled kick from behind.

Then the sword came down.

Parker's rings automatically slid off his forearms, extending into a chain-like energy lasso to block the hooded man's sword. The force upon impact subsequentially sent the man stumbling backward, or so it seemed. His attacker had curved back into an obscure stance, contorting his body so easily prior to whipping a leg up and snapping Parker in the face. The teen groaned before feeling yet another blur of a motion send a sudden sharp puncture deep into his lower back.

"Argh!" Parker fell to the ground, unable to stand. W-why couldn't he get up? His one hand pushed himself to a sit. Meanwhile, the hooded character effortlessly spun the sword in his hand before striking hard. But Parker grabbed it, right by the blade. He felt the sharp sword nearly crumple in his hand as blood seeped through his fingers, leaving the imprint of his clenched fist until the hooded figure rapidly slugged him square in the gut.

"Cagh!" A tough-gripped chokehold immediately grappled the hooded man's neck as it roughly dragged him backward, lifted him upward, then slammed him into the ground. Dust and dirt rose from the mildly cracked surface, revealing a broad-shouldered man with a calm composure and furrowed brows. Zenjiro. The hooded figure sprung up into action throwing a brief strike toward the newcomer's right shoulder. Not to the hooded man's surprise, Zenjiro smoothly dodged his jab only for the attacking contortionist to craftily dive and snap a leg upward. His heel drove into the parent's left underarm sending a mild shock through his body.

The shaky wave of shock surged through Zenjiro's inner left arm, keeping his next block from following through. The hooded man then executed a clear shot jab by which Zenjiro unpredictably complied, shifting his energy flow to deflect at the man's target. This time he was aware of the mystery attacker's ability. Crack crack. "GUGH!" The attacker quickly recoiled his hand at the sound of his fingers cracking against Zenjiro's deflecting pressure point. Ah yes, pressure point martial arts. The hooded man shakily raised his crooked hand at the parent, carelessly letting his cover shift to reveal a hazy . . ox-like mark along his left shoulder, "You-!"

BOOM!

The hooded ragdoll flew into the crumbling wall from sheer force of an energy blast. Zenjiro indifferently glanced at the young teen lowering his aim after firing his shot from the rings along his arm in cannon fashion. "Ah, SHUT IT," Pablo claimed under his own breath, "Creep . . jumping me outta nowhere." Then they heard a few stones drop. The two quickly whipped their heads back to the mystery man rising from his place. Though their opponent had his gaze affixed on something else. Zenjiro's clenched fist emitted a subtle glow, channeling the latent flow of energy into his hand and wrist. With that, the intruder shuffled up and darted away.

". . I-I can't get up," Parker voiced from the side of the path with furrowed brows. Zenjiro got down on bended knee to level with Parker. The teen huffed out, while aggressively trying to even shift his lower half. "I CAN'T GET UP!" Parker's voice hesitantly shook as his arms trembled at the possibility of not being able to walk again. Zenjiro held the young sorcerer by his shoulder. "Z-Zen! I can't walk!" Parker shifted his weight around as much as possible, unable to utilize his legs. Mist started forming in the young man's eyes before he resorted to harshly striking his legs for mere feeling. "You'll be okay," Zen shifted to firmly hold the teen's arms despite him trying to shake his seasoned grip away. "Pablo," His calm voice dropped. . . Somehow the familiar warm tone temporarily pacified the teen to a sit still. The two non-blood brothers sat in silence on the wet cement, taking in a moment till Zen ruffled Pablo's already messy hair. Then, he carried him back.

___

Maybe some people could sense it, his strong steps roamed down the path. He was forward-moving with no hesitation. Zenjiro continued casually shifting in his cool pace, only slowing to turn Snowsant's Heart's corner. Then, he caught sight of the one he needed to see. Eh, through the window that is. The earlier tussle unfortunately pushed him to miss a nice meal. Hm, but he could always take a delicious bite sometime later. Zenjiro opened the door to the establishment. The morning sunlight subtly faded out behind his silhouette till the door swung shut. "Good morning," Zen adjusted his cuff sleeve, while walking toward Hanji's cluster. Naturally, only for him to stop before them and shift his solid gaze, "Let's talk?"

The Crimson King Colorless Spectrum Coyote Hart AriAriAbabwa

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Quinn Victoria Ylva

While Quinn would head Hanji's request, it felt too risky to go herself. She was a Parent after all, and a stealth mission wouldn't be so fun. She simply waited to hear Mortas's answer while continuing to take a sip of her drink. She spotted a cute pink-haired acquaintance by the entrance and mused that Hali must be here for Hanji, she works under him after all. "So we're going to be sending someone else then? Because I have the perfect person in mind." She said when Mortas claimed that he'll be sending someone in his stead and yes, it was none other than Anzel in her mind.

She gave a smile at the mention of her time in the Ashikage family's underground fight. "That is true, I've seen Miss Godfrey fight. She makes quite a pleasant show in the ring." She should visit again one day when her schedule clears up. "Anzel, my butler, is very good with stealth missions. So, yes, I think this mission will go well with our chosen representatives."

And there came Hali Onda. Of course, was never one to be intimidating unless the situation calls for it. "I agree with Patriarch Fumikage. Our talk had just about finished too, yes?" She said sweetly to the young Matriarch with a small smile on her face. The same couldn't be said when she looked over to Mortas, Quinn was someone who caters to her people's needs. It's what keeps them working happily for her after all and she'd like to keep that kind of image towards everyone. Besides how dare he spoke on their behalf? Perhaps she can invite him to the ring and beat him up there one day.

"Good morning, let's talk?"

Another spoke beside them. The very familiar voice of a friend that she had known for ten years now. "My, my, good morning! If it isn't Zenny who arrived quite late into the party." She said impishly, knowing that the nickname doesn't really inspire a smile to his face. She had been a mere menace to him for the past decade after all. "Who did you come here to see?"

mention: || interaction: Coyote Hart The Crimson King AriAriAbabwa Xanto

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Tags: The Crimson King (Hanji) Colorless Spectrum (Quinn) Coyote Hart (Mortas) Xanto (Zenjiro)​

At Mortas' remark, Hali could only shift uncomfortably, tensing with a brief glance of hurt. "If you looked at the horrid crimes all of us commit, I wonder who'd really be at the filthy bottom..." It was an exceedingly quiet, yet barely audible mutter. As though she'd gathered just enough courage to speak her thoughts, but nowhere near enough to say it with pride. Part of her hoped none of them heard her. Hali bit her lip, then looking to where Fumikage generously offered a seat beside him. There wasn't many other choice, now was there?

Hesitantly, Hali sat beside him. She remained as noiseless as she sat—her only movement came in the fiddling of her own fingers. At one moment, she spared a glance to the dreaded man she sat next to. Thankfully, she could take comfort in realizing how less unapproachable Fumikage appeared. She offered a slight smile at his words. "Thank you, Fumikage. I try my best." Their previous meetings were less than fruitful; though their organizations dealt in similar areas, being the wellness of people, their differences lied in what occurred behind the scenes. To Hali, Fumikage was a wolf in sheep's clothing, waiting to swallow her and Magnanimity as just another piece to their collection. And truthfully, his office was one of the last places she wanted to go.

Her head perked up in surprise at the arrival of another man, particularly Matriarch Zenjiro. Hali knew of him through Arashikage Distilleries—also known as an underground, gladiatorial business that pits people into violence for entertainment's sake. Some Magnanimity's patients came straight from those matches, memories that remained vivid in Hali's mind. She only acknowledged him with a nod before sheepishly turning back to the others.

She flinched yet again as Quinn addressed her with amiability. "I-I see... I'm glad my arrival was opportune." Surrounded by people she was completely unfamiliar with, Hali was backed towards Fumikage—ironically the person she was most familiar with—whether she realized it or not. Which was why a glint of surprise flashed in her eyes when she realized she'd scooted closer to him as she asked, "Um... Fumikage, what is this meeting about...?"

 

[Coyote Hart]

​

---

Mortas didn't need empathy to be able to look around the area and see the hostile expressions on everyone's faces. But Mortas wasn't going to be deterred by that. He instead sat back in his chair as he let the words of the people around him soak in. He even dared to raise an eyebrow towards Quinn's nasty look, as if he were saying 'what's that for?'

"How interesting," Mortas said, his eyes lighting up towards everyone's responses, "I had only hoped that you would have said those words with a bit more bravery and bravado, Matriarch Onda. Well said nonetheless."

He wasn't bothered by being referred to as being at the filthy bottom. That was just how life was, and he honestly didn't care how people saw him. In fact, since he saw the parents as his competitors, this was great news for him. Matriarch Onda was not as much of a coward as he had initially thought.

"It's admirable how you two see others as equals," Mortas said to Fumikage-sama and Quinn, "But you'd be wise if you were careful of just who you let in, as there are many people in this world who would just want to take advantage of your kindness and usurp your power. Of course, I don't think this is the case for Matriarch Onda."

From what Mortas knew, Matriarch Onda's Magniamity was not in a good place, one which very few would call being equal to Fumikage Enterprises. So if Hanji would call Matriarch Onda her equal, Mortas wondered how the stern-faced man saw him. Or Qiao, or Lou, or Anzel.

Hanji's attempt at a friendly face freaked Mortas out. It was like watching an alligator grin. Of course, Mortas knew that Hanji was trying his best, so he couldn't really criticize it. So Mortas busied himself with other things. He had been too bold with his words, and he needed to back off. Mortas snatched a napkin from the napkin dispenser on the table in front of them, and using it like a glove, picked out a cookie from the cookie jar within his satchel, and offered it to Matriarch Onda as a peace offering. "Regardless of what I may say, do know that you are a parent, and therefore on the top of the social triangle. Don't be afraid to speak out your thoughts, especially to a detective like me. Here, have a cookie."

As Quinn had said previously, the meeting was basically over. It was a short conversation, but all Mortas had to do was tell Lou to pass his contact information over to Ylva Logistics and Fumikage Enterprises, which shouldn't be too difficult. The three of them could then arrange a time that worked for them in order to carry out the infiltration. They had at least a week to spare after all. What an odd group of people to send to a reconnaissance mission. A butler, a secretary with a history as a street fighter, and an assassin intern.

"Goodness, there are a lot of people coming in a meeting," Mortas said, greeting Patriarch Zenjiro with an upward nod, "Fumikage-sama, are you perchance planning to involve them as well in the upcoming battle?"

AriAriAbabwa The Crimson King Colorless Spectrum Xanto

 

[The Crimson King]

Fumikage Hanji
Interacting with: AriAriAbabwa Xanto Colorless Spectrum Coyote Hart

He smiled warmly as Matriarch Onda took the seat he offered, in spite of her hesitation, though it faltered, as he couldn’t help but pause and recall at his formal referral, noticing now the repeated honorifics directed towards him by both Onda and Karman, “If you please, there’s no need to be so formal. I’m certainly not a lord of anything, especially not any of you.” He weighed the meaning of Hali’s words as he listened to Matriarch Ylva speak, and gave a thin smile at her proposition of sending a representative as well, and at her praise of the lovely Ms. Godfrey, though he knew she was a lot more than a good show, “Excellent. A team of three, more than I had hoped for. And I must agree, that would have been the end of our discussion, as we will continue speaking about that particular topic at a later time.” He inquisitively tilted his head at the sighting of Zenjiro Arashikage, a man of which he uniquely knew very little of, but he did know his predecessor, as his late father had insisted upon Hanji participating in an exhibition match to test his skills in actual combat. Coincidentally, that was also where he first met Ms. Godfrey, and was introduced to her vast capability, as well as her potential as an ally. Was he here to see him?
“Hum, indeed, it was a good morning, but I do believe it’s closer to the afternoon, Arashikage-san; nonetheless, it’s a pleasant surprise to see you in person after so much time away from your ring. What would we speak of, politely assuming you’re here to speak to me, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Now Hali was asking what the purpose of meeting was, and he tapped his index finger upon his temple once or twice. He clenched a fist against it now at Mortas’ continued critiquing the patriarch’s opinions, and his repeated rude manner of speaking, but he shut his eyes and shook his head at his casual production of a dessert to give the matriarch to whom he had been so impolite. He nodded in agreement at the sudden appearance of so many.
And then he spoke out of turn again, having revealed the presence of the upcoming operation to the two he hadn’t bothered asking, out of consideration for their personal beliefs.
The self-proclaimed detective was at less than arm’s length, so what Hanji had decided to do was apparently destined to happen. He tilted his head in the man’s direction, with a sustained glow of his spectacles and a small lifting of the corners of his mouth, he snapped forth his left arm, a balled fist landing, having made a target of his shoulder, with a clearly audible impact. It was immediately obvious Hanji hadn’t hit him as hard as he could, and there was no sound of anything being damaged, yet his intention to harm was clear. His smirk became another thin smile as he spoke softly, yet sternly,
“No, I hadn’t considered it, but now that you mention it, that might just be an excellent topic of conversation, Karman-kun.”

As if he hadn’t just struck the man beside him but moments before, he happily provided details regarding the entire situation to the two who were not present at the meeting that had happened merely an hour before, all the while gesticulating passionately, clear in his detail and in who said what, and what ideas would be put into practice. He had clearly directed the details about the Association towards Hali Onda, and proclaimed that was the topic of discussion he intended to bring forth at their originally intended meeting. He took a short breath of air when he finished speaking, and turned to face the two targets of his speech specifically,
“Now, by it’s very nature, this is an operation that will end in a great display of violence for the greater good of this city, however, if you choose not to participate in that particular affair, that’s perfectly fine, we have more than enough manpower to account for the hostile force that we will be opposing, but I would greatly appreciate any extension of resources to help further the former half of the operation, which is the convention.”​

 

[Longhead]

SIEGFRIED KÖNIG
Interactions: sheesh | Saturn_moon ​

“The strings are just so…”

TWANG.

A harsh noise followed by a persistent buzzing cut Siegfried’s sentence short. “...Skinny.” He sighed and settled back in his chair, letting his guitar — something simple and wooden — lay across his chest. Sonido’s logo was carved into the guitar in multiple places: the back of the neck, near the bridge, and one more on the headstock. His right hand rested over the strings near the soundhole of the acoustic while his left rested on the arm rest. He looked over each of the strings. “I don’t know how people play these,” he rubbed the fingertips on his left hand, “especially when it can hurt like this.” He muttered.

His fingertips had become sore from practicing the same chord for almost two hours. He had a hard time arching his large, fat fingers in such a way that they wouldn’t stop the others from ringing out. Not only that, but he was slow to get each of his fingers in the right spot; even if he could make it to the next chord in the progression, he wouldn’t be able to transition in time to make the lick flow well. Lots of people had told him maybe bass was a better instrument for someone with his size, and he was starting to think they might be right.

But he couldn’t give up so easily. He really liked the way guitars sounded, and he’d owned a few for years. Despite practicing for so long, he didn’t seem to get too much better. He leaned forward and readied his hands to play again. He’d been told the hardest part about learning an instrument was similar to that of working out; committing was the biggest part of the battle. He invested into that note, but he was nearing the end of his rope. Maybe he’d be buying a bass a lot sooner than he’d thought.

He took a breath and again attempted to play the chord he’d been struggling with: C sharp major seventh. Suddenly, the color of the world faded and things in motion came to a standstill. The red guitar he held suddenly looked as if it’d be given a grayscale color theme. The flame of a candle on his desk froze mid dance, and at his desk was something that radiated a cold, and would-be-ominous presence, had he not been used to the feeling. “Still trying to work your fat fingers across those strings, Mister König?”

Siegfried cringed. “Did you have to put so much emphasis on fat?” Siegfried placed the guitar next to the couch he was sitting on, leaning on the arm. It would be back in his lap soon. He stood up and stretched, throwing his arms in the air and poking his chest out. The relief was incredible, so much so that it even made him stand on his toes for an instant. “It’s admirable how long you’ve been…trying to get better. Have you considered-” Siegfried held up a hand. “That it’s not for me? You know I have.” He looked at his desk.

There sat a cackling skeleton with his feet kicked up on the desk. “Yes, I suppose you’re right — I knew. I only wanted to hear you say it.” He sneered. Siegfried frowned. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know?” The skeleton, or Jeanne as Siegfried knew him, had always been able to read his thoughts, though he mostly communicated with Siegfried in what he described as a strange colorless dimension. Whether or not “dimension” was the right word was debatable. Jeanne had explained before that it was really just a space inside his mind. Thousands of words could be said in such a place, though in the real world, it may only be a few seconds, and in most cases only an instant.

“Didn’t you invite a child to your office to teach you how to play?”
“A chil-...Well, I suppose it makes sense to call everyone a child when you might as well be a fossil.”
Jeanne stared at Siegfried.
“...What?”
“Aren’t you a little embarrassed you’re being outdone by someone who hasn’t even grown a hair on his face yet?” Jeanne teased. He enjoyed poking fun at Siegfried, who’d grown to tolerate it. For the most part. “Not…not exactly? There’s always someone out there who’s better than you at something-”
“Wrong.”
Siegfried rolled his eyes. “...Sometimes they happen to be a little bit younger. Or older, who knows.” He shrugged. He approached his desk and placed his hands on the surface. “Are you implying you could play any better than I could?” Siegfried raised an eyebrow. Jeanne threw his legs over the edge of the desk and set them on the ground, leaning forward. “Of course I could.” His tone was challenging and there was an undoubtedly high amount of confidence in his words. Siegfried smiled and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“Why so?” Jeanne asked. “Same body, same experience. If my fingers are too fat for me to play, that means they’re too fat for you to play.” Siegfried rationalized. His logic seemed perfect to him, but Jeanne had a habit of always being correct. Or at least wanting to be. “I thought you might say that, Siegfried. But consider this: I move better in that body of yours than you do. You’re getting old while I’m-”
“Getting older. You’re older than me, Jeanne. Always have been.”
“...I was going to say “only getting better.” You’re aware that I age like wine?”
“Uh-huh. Go ahead and clock in for me.” He outstretched his hand.
“When I play this instrument better than you do, I expect a coffee.” Jeanne took his hand.
“I’d have to buy you one anyway.”

Again, Siegfried was back on his couch, in his office; rather, Jeanne was now sitting on his couch, in Siegfried’s office. His blue eyes changed to a gold that had an unnatural glow to it. It was the type of gold that matched the endless ocean you would find in a fantasy dragon’s lair; the type of gold that signified greed. Jeanne scanned over the instrument now in his hands. The wood was painted red and the strings were maintained well. Siegfried regularly cleaned and tuned his guitar despite not having much time to play it.

Jeanne tried to mimic the rough shape of what Siegfried was trying to do, though after adjusting his fingers and hand placements multiple times, he found himself with the same issue as Siegfried. He furrowed his brow. Jeanne was certainly making more progress than Siegfried, though ultimately his fingers still wound up muting strings they weren’t supposed to touch. Jeanne’s attempt went on for about five minutes before Siegfried was suddenly back in his body and out of his head. Again he stood and rested the guitar on the side of the couch, though this time he found the skeleton turned around in his chair, facing away from Siegfried.

“What happened? Can’t-”
“I simply don’t want to play anymore. Such an activity…” Jeanne spoke in an even, quiet tone while he trailed off. “It’s simply below you, yes, yes.” Siegfried held back a laugh. He knew that wouldn’t go over with Jeanne well. “Well, Bonesy,” Jeanne spun around to face him, “whenever you want to try again, you know where to find me. That coffee’s waiting on you.” He pointed. Jeanne pointed back. “When I want the coffee, I’ll get it…and excuse my lack of facial muscles — but consider me glaring." He pointed a boney finger at Siegfried. "Don’t call me Bonesy.”

Again, Siegfried was suddenly sat back down on the couch, guitar lying comfortably in his lap. He really didn’t feel like playing anymore. Unfortunately it was a little too late to cancel his little music lesson. He would just have to wait. There wasn’t a ton to think about. He hardly had to do much work himself, the company was ironically too efficient. For him at least. Most of the stuff he would normally do was handled or at least facilitated by his assistant. Most of the time he just felt like an ornament in his office. As if Jeanne could feel the silence in Siegfried’s mind, he piped up.

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ He sneered.
‘It’s like you thrive off of negativity.’
‘Something like that.’

♗

Just past the doors that led to Siegfried's office, stood Wyatt with his slicked back mousey brown hair, bright blue eyes, and traces of adolescence still lingering between his features. Holstered to his side was a pistol, Ashwood made of course, as was the standard issue for all König security personnel. Wyatt was a fairly new hire which meant he had been relegated to the “very important” task of standing guard outside Mr. König’s office. Very important, my ass. The boy scoffed to himself. It was clear that he was little more than a glorified doorman.

For the past two hours, the boy was made to listen to the muffled strumming of the same chords on a guitar over and over again while keeping a vigilant watch on the elevator at the end of the long corridor in case someone should arrive.

No one did.

As discreetly as possible, Wyatt stifled a yawn and shifted his weight from feet to feet hoping to restore the blood circulation in his legs. Glancing over at the clock, he began counting the hours till the end of his shift when he heard the soft ding of the elevator. Immediately, Wyatt snapped to attention, straightened his uniform, and arranged his features into an expression that he assumed would be considered imposing.

However, when the iron gates slid open, Wyatt felt a shiver run down his spine and some of his willfulness waver. Standing at the end of the corridor was the familiar figure of Miss Dubois, Mr. König’s personal assistant. It wasn’t that Miss Dubois was particularly mean or harsh, in fact, she treated the staff quite well, always greeting them with a smile and making it a point to remember all their birthdays. Her presence just had a way of unsettling some people. Wyatt was definitely one of those people.

Silently she glided across the carpeted floor towards him, her long raven hair swishing behind her. Balanced in one hand was a silver tray with two ceramic cups and a large pot. Even from this distance, he could make out the ashy complexion to her skin, the sunken cheeks, and large doll-like eyes. Clearing his throat, Wyatt gave a sharp nod and greeted the woman, all the while praying she might take too much notice with him.

Turning to return the greeting, her words seemed to fall short and a concerned wrinkle formed between her brows. “Why the long face, darling?” She asked, leaning in close. Wyatt felt the instinct to flinch away but his better judgment told him otherwise. The last thing he wanted to do was offend Miss Dubois. “It is a beautiful morning. We haven’t had sunshine quite like this in awhile. You should smile.” Much to his confusion, the moment the words passed her lips Wyatt felt the corners of his mouth pull and tug upwards against his will.

“Much better.” She said with a conspiratorial wink before disappearing through the door.

♗

Inside, Imogen noticed the man sitting on the large leather couch, guitar still cradled in his lap, staring blankly off into the distance. Without missing a beat, she called out in a sing-song tone. “Good Morning, Mr. Konig. I made coffee for your meeting with Mr. Sonido but thought you might like a cup beforehand.” Placing the tray on Siegfried's desk she added, “Perhaps you would like a cup as well, Jeanne?”

“Oh, no. I asked him earlier, he said he’s fine.” Siegfried responded. Somewhere in the back of his head he could feel the rage of a thousand burning suns. Jeanne was seething, but fortunately he did it in silence this time around. “Thank you, Imogen.” He smiled warmly. He wasn’t sure how to tell her his “meeting” with Sonido was just a guitar lesson. Maybe Jeanne’s years of teasing made him a little insecure about it. Siegfried laid the guitar across the couch and stood up to get his coffee. Though as he reached for the cup the color faded from everything once more, it didn’t stop him from grabbing it. He turned towards Imogen, who was frozen, seemingly.

Jeanne stepped into existence like he had been hiding behind an invisible wall behind Imogen. He walked by her, dragging one finger under her jaw before pinching her chin. “I can’t endorse this kind of conduct with employees.” Siegfried joked. Jeanne stopped and let out a low chuckle. “I’m surprised you care. I thought you didn’t like her. You sweet on her all of sudden?” The skeleton dropped his hand to his side. “I never said that,” Jeanne walked over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Siegfried, who shook his head, “I just…feel bad for her in a way.”

“Why is that?” Jeanne asked. “It shouldn’t be that hard for you to put together Jeanne. Our…business got her father killed and almost did the same to her. She shouldn’t even be here. The fact she’s so cheery all the time just…”

“Makes you feel guilty?”
“Very.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I’m surprised you can relate.” Siegfried looked over and met Jeanne's hollowed eye sockets. “I think it’s pretty inconvenient that her life was thrown off track by my business.” He quoted “business” with his fingers and made sure to stress "my." “This is the least I could do. Especially because you wouldn’t stop whining about “taking responsibility for my actions.” As if it was my fault she decided to go digging in a minefield.” Jeanne explained in a played-up mocking tone. Siegfried imagined Jeanne probably rolled his eyes as he spoke about accountability.

Jeanne turned, walked away and disappeared, and Siegfried was still in the process of picking up his coffee. “I thought he might’ve been here by now. I’m getting a little restless.”
“You get restless the moment you have five minutes to yourself. I haven't seen you take a day off in the last twenty years.” Imogen gently chided as she walked over to the window and threw open the heavy curtains letting in a burst of sunlight. “Lucky for you, I come bearing some interesting news.” She smiled brightly at him, eyes gleaming with excitement. In the wash of warm artificial sunlight, the woman almost looked… normal. Human. Alive. “Word on the street is the heads of several families were seen gathering at Snowsant’s Heart for a little breakfast soiree hosted by Ms. Von Schafer. I wouldn’t be surprised if this has something to do with the recent murders in Kaien.”

Siegfried bit his tongue. It would’ve been a little embarrassing if he admitted he’d heard about no such thing. It made him think about what he was doing in his spare time. “Right…the murders.” He said, voice trailing off. In the back of his mind, Jeanne commented. ‘If you keep that up she’ll think you committed the murders yourself.’ Dry cackling followed. The news that there were murders wasn’t surprising at all, but the lack of shock didn’t imply a lack of caring. No matter how many times he heard of such an event – and it had been many – he never ceased to feel somewhat sickly, especially knowing he in a way contributed to it. He took a sip of his coffee.

‘Speaks of being restless, then he drinks coffee.’
‘While you’re speaking, care to refresh my mind on the aforemen-‘
‘Murders, yes, yes. Took you long enough to ask.’
‘…’
‘…’
‘Hello?’

‘I’ve…been focusing on other things, so I don’t know much.’ Jeanne chuckled nervously. If he could sweat, he probably would’ve been. Siegfried raised his eyebrow. ‘If you’re as lost as I am, just say that.’ There was no response. Siegfried sighed and resolved to potentially bite the bullet. “How much do you know?”

"Not much. The workers in the factory talk and I catch bits but they aren't particularly talkative when I'm around. The victims are almost always magi." There was a momentary weighted pause, as if the information came as a shock to Imogen even though she was the one delivering it. "And they suspect it might be connected with the black robed figures that have been making appearances around the city. If you like, I could try to dig around some more. Maybe check in with Mr. Karman? He would be the person to ask.”

Siegfried knew he wished he could scratch his head without actually scratching his head. Best he could assume is that all the other family heads were only slightly less clueless than he was. ‘Honestly Siegfried, who cares about a few murders anyway? It happens everyday. There are bigger things to worry about.’ Jeanne sounded confident. ‘Like what?’ To Jeanne's credit, he was usually right when he said anything along the lines of “there are bigger things to worry about.”

Siegfried took a seat at his desk. ‘Need I remind you that you’re meeting with the Sydney Sonido?’ Siegfried took another sip of his coffee before he responded. ‘...No? I mean, what’s the importance of it?’ He could feel Jeanne clawing at his own face in silent frustration. ‘I swear, everyday it’s like you’re a brand new person; fine. Sydney Sonido, the unstable musician who gets really upset if you don’t acknowledge his talent. Even though they tried to cover it up, the kid once electrocuted a man at a concert just because he wasn’t dancing.’

‘If Sydney’s so talented, then why wasn’t that one guy dancing?’
‘Probably has something to do with the concert quite literally blowing up.’
‘Why’d it blow up? Wait, don’t tell me. Sydney.’
‘Every now and again you show me you aren’t all stupid. He seems incredibly…normal, as far as our type of people go. Kaien murders aside, we should focus on the potential one at hand.’
‘What’s the best play?’
‘Do you know how to dance?’

As if on cue, the door to the office swung open and in stepped Sydney himself, who had his guitar case on his back. “Mister König?” A man stood with half of his body through the door. “Sorry I’m late, is now a bad time?” He smiled gently. Siegfried beamed. “Not at all, come right in!” Sydney approached with a hand extended. “I got a little distracted on the way here; completely unprofessional of me, I know.” Siegfried took his hand and chuckled. “No issue, it happens. It’s not a terribly important matter.”

Siegfried thought he saw something change in Sydney’s face, and if he did it was only for an instant. He noticed a sudden dull static ringing in his ears. “You won’t ever get anywhere on guitar with that attitude.” Sydney chided, somewhat passive aggressively. Siegfried seemed oblivious to the undertone, however. “We’ll see about that!” Siegfried glanced over at his guitar, still leaning on the couch. Suddenly he was reminded of the weight in his hand. “Oh. Coffee?”

Imogen gave a polite bow from where she stood. "Good morning, Mr. Sonido. It is such a pleasure to have you in our establishment. I am a huge fan of your work." Without needing to be asked, the woman swiftly poured out a second cup of coffee and brought it over to Sydney. "Any milk or sugar?" Sydney stopped for a moment, mouth slightly open. “Service is pretty quick here, huh?” He joked as he took it. “Neither, thank you.”

‘Black coffee…? Watch yourself, Siegfried.’
‘What’s wrong with black coffee?’
‘Only psychopaths drink their coffee black.’
‘What kind of caffeine connoisseur…and Imogen is fine, despite loading her coffee up with all kinds of sugar?’
‘Uh…yes? That’s the only way to do it. Try living a little, Siegfried; it seems like Imogen’s doing it better than you — need I point out the irony of that?’

“Have a seat, Sonido. We can start making up for lost time.” Sydney saw himself over to the couch and sat down, unslinging his guitar and beginning to undo the zipper. While he was doing this, Sydney happened to look over at Siegfried’s guitar, recognizing his family’s brand on it. “Nice guitar.” He began to pull his out of the case. “Could say the same about yours, honestly.” Siegfried commented as Sydney’s guitar became more visible. “I’ve never seen that for sale…anywhere, really.”

“Oh, it’s because it’s not for sale…anywhere, really.” Sydney copied Siegfried's speech pattern, smirking. “It’s custom made; just for me.” Siegfried shrugged. Owning a brand definitely had its perks. He would know. He couldn’t say he was at all surprised that Sydney commissioned a guitar just for himself. Maybe if he got any better at playing, Sydney would be kind enough to make a custom one for him too? “If you’ll just give me a second to get ready…” Sydney played each string individually, turning the tuning pegs very slightly in varying intervals.

The guitar was awfully loud despite not being plugged in. Siegfried had a hard time trying not to stare, and an even harder time wiping the puzzled look off of his face. ‘Am I missing something, Jeanne?’ Jeanne didn’t respond. Siegfried groaned. “So, how long have you been playing?” Sydney stopped to give Siegfried his attention. “Most of my life; well over half of it. Started playing when I was…sheesh, not quite sure anymore. It’s kind of one of those things that I’ve always done. Can’t really remember a time where I couldn’t play.”

“What about you?” Sydney absently plucked percussive, muted notes with a pick he produced from his pocket. “Oh, me? Few years.” Siegfried purposefully kept his sentence short. All the logical assumptions you could make about someone who’s been playing for a few years for the most part didn’t apply to Siegfried. Not that he doubted no one cared for long if they ever did at all, but he didn’t like even the thought of someone thinking him a liar. Even if that wasn’t the case, practicing for years without getting much better is embarrassing on its own. “Oh, so you must already have a pretty strong foundation. You’re at that point where you’re not sure how to take things to the next level, right? Every musician hits a wall like this. Don’t worry, I’ve got you co-”

“Yeah, see…” Siegfried sighed. He knew it was coming. “Situation’s a little less complex than that. I actually can’t really play anything at all. Before you got here I was just trying to play the same chord over and over, but my technique sucks despite all the studying I’ve done.” The explanation was given while he walked over to grab his own guitar by the neck. Sydney tucked his pick in between the strings and the fretboard. “Well, how much do you know?” He tilted his head.

“It’s more practical information than it is any skill. I’ve read up on how to play guitar. Modes, scales, the whole thing. It’s just, no matter how much I try I just can’t apply it.” A corner of Sydney’s mouth tugged closer to the ground as Sydney tried to surpress a frown. “Common case, though, trying to work on applying a few years worth of study might take more than one lesson.” Sydney looked at Siegfried’s guitar, then to his hands. “Everyone learns a little bit differently. I feel like it might be important to tell you that everyone’s built a little differently, and not everyone can become good at guitar.”

“Not to try and burn your dreams to the ground — it’s coming from a good place, I swear — but have you tried bass? Maybe piano, even. I think I can see why you’re having such a hard time picking up guitar; your hands are huge, man, and not in the preferable way.” Siegfried snorted. “I was just thinking about that earlier today, actually. My hands are pretty big, and I have been told before to try bass; never piano though. I thought I’d still get a teacher though. Is it still possible for me to play even if my hands aren’t– what, ‘preferable?’” Sydney nodded. “It’s not that it’d be impossible more than it’d just be more difficult. Big hands aren’t necessarily a bad thing. Having long and skinny fingers is ideal, in my opinion. Which, yours are long, but they’re uh…”

“Pretty fat. Right. So it’s the length and girth-.”
‘Hah.’
“Hah.”
“What’s so funny, guys?” Siegfried shook his head.

‘Nothing.’
“Nothing.” Sydney paused. “...Guys?” He asked. Suddenly Sydney flinched, like someone had thrown a peanut at his head. “Ah! Completely forgot. It’s not just you in there.” Sydney and Siegfried shared a short laugh. “It happens sometimes. Not too many days where you come across another ward. We’re digressing, though.” Siegfried took a moment to mentally note how normal Sydney was in such a way that it would broadcast to a certain skeleton how wrong his premonitions were. Alleged murderer or not, everything seemed in order to Siegfried.

“Alright. Let’s get started.” Sydney leaned forward. “I’m not gonna teach you any drills or anything like that; I’m sure you’re tired of those, but I do have a little ten-to-fifteen second riff that you can practice. It’s a little tough to get the hang of, but it’ll really get you used to bending your fingers the right way to make sure they aren’t muting any other strings. There’s also the added challenge of a barre chord.” Sydney smirked. “Barre chords are always tough at first, but it really just takes some getting used to. Are you familiar with barre chords?” Siegfried nodded. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Riff sounds a little something like this.”

Spoiler: Credit to Sheesh

Sydney looked up from his guitar, smiling. “How’d you like that?” He asked. Though the question seemed innocent, it incited an immediate response from Jeanne. ‘Pick your words wisely and stand behind them accordingly.’ Jeanne belted out. ‘What do you mean by that?’ Siegfried’s brow furrowed slightly as he felt an intense pressure all of a sudden. Sydney’s eyes were trained on him. Though his smile was friendly, something about the air around him felt incredibly malicious; Siegfried doubted “incredibly malicious” was even a strong enough term for the feeling. ‘Say you liked it, even if it’s not true.’

“It sounded pretty good. Can you play it again, just a little bit slower? I just need to see what you’re doing.” Siegfried could feel himself growing a little hot. He tugged at his collar and glanced over at Imogen. He wondered if she could feel it too. “Sure! Go ahead and sit down so you can get a closer look.” Siegfried sucked air in through tightly clenched teeth. “Oh, no thanks. I’ve been sitting all morning. Maybe in a few minutes.” The statement was true, but the intent behind it wasn’t. He wouldn’t have an issue sitting down normally.

“Uh…suit yourself, I guess.” Sydney began to play again, but slower this time around. Siegfried feigned watching closely. ‘I guess you feel it too?’ Jeanned scoffed. ‘I’d have not said anything if I didn’t. I’m not sure what it is either, but there’s something seriously off about this kid.’ Siegfried’s eyes flitted to the side for an instant. “Watch closely, now.” Sydney instructed, as if on cue. Did he see Siegfried look away? Sydney had barely looked up from his guitar. ‘What’s the move?’

‘Get this guy out of here.’
‘How am I supposed to do that?’
‘You’re such a smart man, Siegfried…’

‘But you’re also so stupid at the same time. Move over.’ Siegfried blinked, and when his eyes opened his irises were no longer blue, but gold. ‘Always overthinking the situation…This is your office, you idiot!’ Jeanne cleared Siegfried’s throat. “Oh!” Jeanne exclaimed, slapping his palm on his face. “Terribly sorry about this, Sydney, but I actually completely forgot that I’m supposed to be at a meeting within the hour. It’s a little unprofessional of me, I know, but we might have to pick this up…” Jeanne clasped his hand on Sydney’s shoulder and tightly grasped him, “...another time.” In trying to escort Sydney out of the room, Jeanne may as well have lifted Sydney by his shoulder and carried him out. “Escort” wasn’t particularly the word. What was happening in Siegfried’s office was more akin to Sydney being thrown out of the office. Sydney struggled against Siegfried, though he was far stronger than him, thus his attempts were futile. “Hey! I can see myself out, thank you very much!” He protested, but by the time he finished his sentence, he had already been firmly planted outside of the door.

Jeanne looked at Wyatt. “See him out.” He turned to reenter the office, but peaked his head out once more. “Please,” again, he ducked in and then back out of his office, “and thank you.” He then proceeded to slam the door behind him.

“That was interesting.” Imogen chimed in the moment the door closed. She quietly moved around the room, cleaning up. “Perhaps you would like to explain what that was, Jeanne? Or should I ask Mr. König when he returns?”

Jeanne pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a little ironic you came in here speaking of the other family heads meeting over murders not privy to the murderer that was in the same room as us.” He snorted. “Siegfried was on the same page as you too. I’m not sure if you could feel it…I’m not even sure what the word for “it” is.” Jeanne ran a hand through his hair as he walked over towards his desk, plopping down in his chair with a heavy sigh.

With the slightest tilt of the head, a smile still on her face, she responded “Are we not all murderers here?” The truth hung in the air, cold and bitter. Whether she was talking about her own father and personal near death experience or the almost too frequent deaths that happened within Kaiser was unclear. As usual, she didn’t harp on the darker matter for too long and casually continued. “And I did indeed feel something. Quite odd although not unlike some of the powers you have granted Mr. König and myself. Perhaps just a little more… malicious.”

“If even a little.”

 

[The Crimson King]

Fumikage Hanji
Interacting with: AriAriAbabwa Colorless Spectrum Xanto Coyote Hart

His face softened at the resounding silence from the collective that surrounded him; likely due to his casual striking of the detective beside him. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for doing so. He grimaced slightly, before deciding it was time for him to leave. He rose from his seat, pulling up his jacket from it’s place on the floor, and throwing it over himself, letting it hang loosely on his shoulders without fastening it, giving a thin smile before collecting his briefcase as well, gesturing to the files upon the table,
“Use those… if you’d like… Madam Ylva… Mr. Karman… I’ve practically memorized them, so help yourselves.”
He turned to leave, sliding past Matriarch Onda and Patriarch Arashikage, who remained standing. He gave a small salute before he walked out the door, as if to say,
‘be seeing you.’ His silhouette darkens the windowed entranceway for only a moment, before the splotch of his visage recedes into the distance.
The walk to the nearest phone booth felt particularly uneventful, the glow of the evening sun creating many shadows as it hits the many scaffolds and archways of the surrounding streets and accesses, and there weren’t many civilians walking around, likely still hard at work, scattered like the stars in the sky, high above the patriarch as he walked. He enters the snug booth, pushing a Scutum (ICN 100) into the coin slot before dialing for his own office, giving a short sigh before raising the receiver to his mouth as he removes his glasses, placing them in the hem of his revealed undershirt. It rings once or maybe twice, before going through,
“Fumikage Enterprises, Main Office, this is Lena speaking, how may I help you?”
He couldn’t help but give a goofy smile at her bell-like ‘customer service’ voice, responding in his own professional voice, which retained it’s baritone, but lifted a bit more than usual,
“It’s only me, Lena. I’m coming back from this morning’s meeting, but I have a job for you. I need you to go to the building where Rumbler’s Gym used to be, on Hathaway street. You’ll be meeting two representatives, one from the Ylva Family, and one from the Mortas Detective Agency, their names are Anzel Fortham and Lou Golubev. You’ll be doing a reconnaissance operation regarding the Industrial Business Forum, which is where the collective families have come to the consensus that the Association is making it’s safe house. You’re looking for any number of Homunculi, their magic frequencies should be easy enough to triangulate. Avoid a combat scenario, your mission is to amass information regarding this new enemy, nothing more. I’m willing to accept any request you make for compensation, but only if the mission results in a success. Do we have an accord?”
There was a short pause after he had finished relaying his request. Unknown to him, Lena was grinning like a rabid fox, yet she spoke softly into his ear, in her signature sisterly tone,
“You’ve kept me waiting, Han-chan, to give me something to do besides sit behind a desk all day. Gimme 577,000 and your wish is my command.”
‘That’s quite a generous offer’, he mused,
“Deal.”
The line goes dead. Hanji smirks before hanging up the receiver.
‘That Lena, she’s quite the catch.’
The sound of a single coin being deposited from the change slot rings out, earning only a small glance from the patriarch before he exits the booth.
The rest of the walk back to the office felt oddly meditative, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He descends the same scaffolding and access ladders he had climbed this morning, the nostalgic paved streets of the Southern Business District revealing themselves in ample time. He dons his shades as he slides down the final ladder, making casual pace. The streets of the market are empty of course, but it feels like home nonetheless, the light that shines down from the tiled roofs of the many offices and stores the same as they were when he was a boy. When he approaches the office, it’s clear from looking through the front windows that he had just missed Lena, doubtless, she had left only moments before. He walks inside, and it’s almost silent, only the sound of a faint, bizarre shuffling coming from the meeting room audible to Hanji.
He calls out,
“Lena?”
Now, dead silence. He gently opens the door.

つづく
( TO BE CONTINUED. )​