Millennium City: Nova - {Pocket D}

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Under most circumstances Maxwell would have had a witty retort to throw back. However, after a second strike to his suit which would not come out easy, combined with a non-verbal threat and earlier assault. The magician decided he would finally give the scientist a reason to hate him as much as he did. Maxwell turned away from the vulnerable Wilson and watched the bartender work and hummed a ragtime song he remembered from his past.
Though he looked to be ignoring Wilson his eye's shifted to the corner as he watched as the scientist remained face-down and unaware, he wouldn't even know what hit him.
Maxwell stretched a leg towards Wilson's chair and in one swift motion he pushed it over quickly with his foot, knocking it and the scientist on to the floor. Though the shadow magician only took a drag of his cigar and pretended not to take interest with only the slightest hint of a satisfied smile on his face.

Haz. Haz. BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2
 
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  • Frank's grip- normally rough around the edges- became relatively light as he pulled the rapier out from Jeanette's grasp. He frowned, letting the cold feeling spread through his hands as he thought on where he could put the sword. He finally decided to wedge it between his back and the M16, making a tight fit but still manageable.

    "It ain't a machete, but I guess it'll do. But if you're right about being able to kill this King guy only with this sword, then that's a shame," The blue-eyed soldier noted, patting the sword down just before the image of the duo's target flashed through their minds. It startled him, and as the demon let out a low growl the male drew the rapier and pointed it at the demon just before returning to reality- and nothing to be truly worried about. He sighed as he lowered his guard again.

    "A fair warning before you do that would be nice next time," The Marine complained through grit teeth, yet didn't say much about the huge freak they were supposed to attack- the mental note was stored within his brain. It was a shame that their chances of stealth were now reduced- if not completely obliterated- if the monstrosity actually saw them.

    "Yeah. So much for directly sneaking up on this fucker after all. If we want to take him out quietly, us two are gonna need to stay away from The King, maybe let some other folks get closer to him," He frowned, relaxing just a little bit more and slinging the rapier over his shoulder again.

    "And you mean to tell us that if we fuck up getting rid of freakface, we're gonna have more shit tossed at us afterwards? That's very comforting." A sigh escaped his lips as he plopped into his chair again to lean backwards. He sighed again as his brain processed the final piece of the mini-puzzle the duo had- They needed the devil's name to truly be effective, which meant they would have to do even more sleuthing.

    When Shilo gave Woods a smirk and asked him of his opinion, he couldn't help but return her simper. Truth be told, he was starting to already like her as a partner, and besides, she probably couldn't take down some space monster on her own despite how competent she seemed thanks to Frank's first impressions.

    "Yeah, why not? It's not like I'm planning to retire in this whacked-out world just yet, and I don't think I'm gonna simply walk away knowing some giant demon could be looking for us as we speak," The Marine responded- somewhat nonchalantly- before turning to the dancer.

    "I don't suppose you have a set of 'party' clothes that you could lend us- a tuxedo and dress, maybe? And maybe a concealable sheath for the sword?" Woods took one look at his weapons and his ammo belt.

    "If the guy's having a party, we can't exactly walk in with the clothes we have on us right now. I dunno about you-" Another glance straight into Shilo's good eye- "But I'd rather not get caught the moment we enter because we can't blend into the crowd.

    "Oh, and we're also gonna need to get a couple of the guys out at the bar to help. Got anything else to offer, though? Maybe blueprints on the building this King is staying in, or a contact that could make our lives easier while making our way through the party?"
 
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Infuriated Infant said:
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    Wilson cracked an uneasy smile, abruptly coughing up a smidgen of blood onto Maxwell's collar, a rather violent response to the northsman's "gentle" backhand, stretching Wulfrik a painfully anxious grin as he struggled to not fall flat on his face whilst vomitting in pain and simultaneous terror.
    "Y-Yes, thank you. You're too generous." Higgsbury blarneyed, clenching his ribs in agony.
    "I feel like all the bones in my body shattered under the pressure of a million shockwaves..." He scoffed to the magician, his frantic panting coupled with his sickly wheezing making him sound like a voice synthesizer dropped down the peak of Mount Fuji.
    At last, after presumably coughing up all of his vital organs, including his literal and figurative guts, he quieted down, shooting Maxwell a glare equivalent to "Speak of this to anyone and I will strangle you to death with a kettle and some string", an analogy oddly fitting to someone of his calibre.
    He sharply turned, taking a swig of his scotch before planting his forehead on the countertop, a murmur or two escaping his ghastly breathing.

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ManyFaces said:
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Under most circumstances Maxwell would have had a witty retort to throw back. However, after a second strike to his suit which would not come out easy, combined with a non-verbal threat and earlier assault. The magician decided he would finally give the scientist a reason to hate him as much as he did. Maxwell turned away from the vulnerable Wilson and watched the bartender work and hummed a ragtime song he remembered from his past.
Though he looked to be ignoring Wilson his eye's shifted to the corner as he watched as the scientist remained face-down and unaware, he wouldn't even know what hit him.
Maxwell stretched a leg towards Wilson's chair and in one swift motion he pushed it over quickly with his foot, knocking it and the scientist on to the floor. Though the shadow magician only took a drag of his cigar and pretended not to take interest with only the slightest hint of a satisfied smile on his face.

Haz. Haz. BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2
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Wulfrik simply nodded at Wilson. The norrthman stepped back a little bit, though he didn't look or walk away just yet. "I know I am. You're quite welcome. I'll be here all week, every week." He tilted his head to the side a bit at the next statement. "All I did was give you a gentle pat, boy. I guess we're both lucky I didn't put as much arm in it as I usually do, or else I'd have another mess to clean up!" Before Wulfrik could laugh at his own joke, though, the northman, who, as stated, had never turned around or looked away at any point, watched Maxwell kick the chair out from under fellow guest, Wilson.

A moment of silence passed from Wulfrik as servers rushed to Wilson's aid, helping him up and setting the stool back up. They each gave the towering giant a nervous look before going back to what they were doing. Maxwell didn't need to turn around to feel the crimson eyes of the man burrowing into the back of skull. It was almost as though the man's presence commanded attention, in much the same way that Jeanette's aura did, only his commanded fear. It was more than the power of presence, it was more along the lines of a magical effect.

When Wulfrik spoke to Maxwell and Wilson, his voice, much as it did to Kanye, carried a magical power to it, the northman's strange, bird-like fluted tongue briefly visible. The words actively forced them to focus on him, a challenge that simply could not be refused by anything short of a god. "You have the gall to not only do that in my restaurant, you do it right in front of me!? Are you fucking stupid? Is that what it is?" Wulfrik grabbed each of them by their necks, moving with a blinding speed unexpected of a man of his stature. Attempts to resist were met by a tightening grip, and even stronger abilities seemed to fizzle out entirely when used. It was hard to tell if that was Pocket D's doing, or Wulfrik's.

The man didn't wait for a response, either. He just walked backstage, and continued on as performers and staff dodged around them with expressions that ranged from sympathetic to fearful. Before too long, he opened the door to Jeanette's dressing room, throwing them onto the floor in front of his wife, Shilo, and Frank.
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FactionGuerrilla said:

  • (WIP)
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-Nightwisher- said:
~Shilo Saga~
Interactions: Frank Woods ( FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla ) and Jeannette ( BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 )
Mentions: The King
Location: Pocket D (Back Rooms)
​
The raven haired woman watched as Frank stepped forward and looted the body, handing her the gun, apparently it was a 1191, not one of Shilo's favorites, but beggars really couldn't be choosers. Then again, she really wasn't begging to have a gun. She had always been more of an up close and personal kind of gal when it came to fighting, and especially killing. She didn't enjoy either activity, but there was something about killing up close... it was so personal. A gun just seemed like cheating. There was no respect, there was no apology that could be made with a kill shot. Nonetheless, the assassin took the gun and the spare ammo, checking the clip inside the gun before checking the chamber. She once again wished she had her Bowie knife and holster. She reloaded the gun, flipped the safety on, and slipped the gun inside of the pocket that hid on the inside of her jacket. It fit well and didn't bulge out of the jacket, which was nice. She pocketed the extra clip as well, so it was easily attainable for quick access. Shilo nodded a thank you to Frank, turning back to give her attention to the singer.

Shilo narrowed her eyes a bit at Jeannette. If The King wasn't like her, but wasn't like them either... did that mean that there were other kinds of creatures out there? Luckily enough, Shilo didn't have to ask. When the singer waved her hand and brought forth the rapier, the assassin couldn't help the small twitch in the corner of her mouth. It had been years since she had had a sword fight. However, when the rapier was offered to Frank and not herself, the assassin looked back up at Jeannette to hear the explanation about the sword. Cold iron...? Shilo thought as she looked back down at the weapon. The coal haired woman raised her eyes once more, in time to see the throwing knives appear. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, reaching out a hand to take them gently. Shilo had been using the same knives since she was sixteen years old and was used to a very certain type of cut and weight. She picked up one of the knives, twirling it around in her hands to check the weight, before tossing it up in the air to watch it spin before letting it fall back down. She caught it easily between her fingers, spinning it around her hand once more before placing it back where it belonged. All the while she'd been listening closely to Jeannette's explanation of The King.

The assassin blinked a few times as they were shown the vision of the Pit Fiend. Never thought I'd say this. The woman thought as she looked over the monster, trying to find any obvious weaknesses. But this job may be a bit above my pay grade. The leader of Team 73 didn't exactly make an income, no one on the Team did, as they were just given any thing they asked for from anyone they asked for it.

"Oh, awesome. Thanks." Shilo sighed, rubbing a gloved thumb against her forehead in slight annoyance. Whatever upper hand that they could have had by spying on him like that was now ruined. If she had known that could have been the case, she would have just asked for a verbal description. "You're saying there are more powerful things out there that might come after us if we kill this thing?" The assassin asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked away, off to a corner in the room, the tip of her tongue running slowly back and forth between the right corner of her mouth and a third of the way across her top lip before returning back to the corner. She mulled over the quest, her mind rushing through all the possibilities. A good number of them ended up with her, or at least another ally of some sort, dead. But at the same time, any risk was worth getting back to her Team... or at least trying to get back. If anything, the six hundred dollars that was being offered would help them out quite a bit while in the City.

Shilo tilted her head up a bit to meet Frank's gaze, giving him a nod. "Yeah," she said, looking back to Jeannette. "I'll take the job and recruit a couple of people out there," the assassin turned to face Frank, offering a bit of a playful smirk. "You in for a bit of a challenge?" It was obvious that she and the Marine worked well together. There was some kind of connection, probably from a trauma recognize trauma sort of deal. After all, Shilo had seen more shit by the age of thirteen than most people did in their entire lives, and that had been before she'd actually taken her first life as an assassin. That was all besides the point though. The point was that Frank and Shilo got each other, at least to some level, and in a brand new city that was the kind of thing you needed to survive.
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The singer had been about to address each concern when this happened, as well. She looked down at the two and blinked. "I'm not hungry right now, Wulfy. Could you put them in the back with the others?" Jeanette smiled sweetly at her husband, who, to his credit, seemed to soften up a little bit, the angry expression fading momentarily. With a nod, he started dragging the two of them by their boots to another door across the room that Shilo and Frank hadn't noticed before. The door resembled that of a large refrigerator or freezer door.

Before he could open it, though, something seemed to occur to the woman. Again disappearing from view in the blink of an eye, Wilson and Maxwell felt a slight breeze as the woman, an unknown to them aside from being the singer that had been on stage a minute ago, appeared in front of Wulfrik. Her hand was outstretched, meeting him in the gut. The woman was easily two feet shorter than her husband, but she stopped him dead in his tracks with little effort, a little bit of breath escaping him as he walked into it a bit harder than intended. "Huh? Change your mind, dearest? Want 'em now?" The northman reached up and began to pull the massive greatsword off his back. A sort of doting adoration shined in the red glow of his irises as he did so, like murdering the two of them on the spot was something he would not only be okay with doing, but, rather, if it was in the service of Jeanette, he would do it a million times over.

She shook her head in response, smiling apologetically. "No, my love. I think they could be useful. Let them get up and join us. Maybe they'll redeem themselves in our little side venture." The woman looked down at Wilson and bit her lower lip a bit, her fang-like canines briefly showing. Though briefly looking confused, Wulfrik did as he was told, and briefly left to go back into the main area and keep things calm, ducking through doorways all the way.

A hand was extended to Maxwell and Wilson, offering to help them up. The same breeze seemed to enter the room, and she was, in the blink of eye, again sitting on a seemingly invisible chair in front of Shilo and Frank. "Where were we? Oh, yeah. Killing the King. You can have these two. If they don't provide some kind of help or run away, tell us. We'll take care of it. As for if something more powerful would come after you... I don't think so. Not if you don't let yourself get caught. Then, they won't know to come after you."

She shook her head dismissively. "He knows where you are right now. He doesn't know who you are, and, once you leave, he'll lose sight of you. It seems he could see my 'eye.' He couldn't see us. Just that we were watching. It's important that you move quickly, though, because if one of his agents shows up to check it out, he will know who you are and that you're coming." The singer leaned back in whatever she was sitting in. "And, yes, you have to kill him with one of those. Your bullets won't just be less effective, like they would be on a large beast. They will not hurt him, and, under no circumstance in any situation will they ever hurt him. Not even a tickle. It's not physical hardiness." She waved her fingers a little bit, almost doing jazz hands. "It's magic."

The woman tilted her her head at the next query, but then simply nodded. "Help yourself to whatever you can find backstage. Should be plenty of suits and dresses. One in your size, I'm not sure about, but there should be a few. The party is that the King's club, the Nine Hells. The clientele there is... a bit fiendish. You'll see what I mean. Ask the bartender for a Planetar on the rocks. He'll help you. Tell the bouncer out front that you like his eyes to get in. Now, as for you two," Jeanette turned in her chair to face Wilson and Maxwell, her legs crossed to keep her revealing dress from showing a bit too much. She stood and walked around them, seeming to size them up. As before, her aura was beyond alluring. It was intoxicating. If one was attracted to her, it was like every word was an invitation. If one wasn't, the thing left a bad taste in their mouth.

"What can you handsome men do that adds to the mission? The others will explain it to you. I just need to know if you have any... weapons of choice." Her nail traced along Wilson's chin as she spoke.

Nightwisher Nightwisher FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Haz. Haz. ManyFaces ManyFaces​
 
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    Wilson let out a petrified yelp as Wulfrik snatched him by the throat and effortlessly tore him off of his seat, practically dislocating his neck with how casually he dragged him across the bar. After slaying monsters of varying sizes and strengths, after toppling creatures who viewed him as no more than a resilient meal, this was how he'd die? In a city, surrounded by a civilisation he found more disturbing than fascinating, where no one would hear him scream as a 7-foot-something man dragged him backstage where, for all he knew, he could be planning to shred him into topping and serve him on a salad.
    Alas, he wasn't too far off. Higgsbury hit the planks with a hard thud, the clattering of his teeth all-too comically audible to all those who surrounded him. It wasn't often he'd find himself this piss-yourself scared, practically frozen in motion and too fearful to look up.
    "Please put me back in the Constant, put me back in the Constant, put me back in the Constant..." He softly murmured to himself repeatedly. His terror would've been hilarious, had it not been the demeanour of anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in his shoes.
    "What can you handsome men do that adds to the mission? The others will explain it to you. I just need to know if you have any... weapons of choice."
    And then... His sobbing ceased. The voice of Jeanette froze him, but in a way much different than that of Wulfrik's. He felt entranced, his head moving along like a paperweight as the woman's finger traced along his chin. He opened his mouth to speak, but found no words escaping his breath. His teeth shut tight around his tongue, digging into the flesh and squeezing out a drop of blood, which dribbled from the corner of his lips. Despite that, however, he found himself unflinching. Unmoving, even, as though he wasn't even aware of it.
    "I... P-Prefer..." He could hardly finish his sentence, let alone speak without sounding like his vocal cords were being wrangled by a frog.
    "I prefer staves, m-ma'am."

 
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~Shilo Saga~
Interactions: Frank Woods ( FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla ) and Jeannette ( BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 )
Mentions: Maxwell ( ManyFaces ManyFaces ) and Wilson Higgsbury ( Haz. Haz. )
Location: Pocket D (Back Rooms)​

Shilo flashed a look at Frank when he mentioned 'party clothing'. It was a good plan, but Shilo didn't know how she would be able to wear that type of clothing around this group, in this city. It had taken nearly a year of living with the Team before she'd been comfortable enough to engage in missions other than stealth, where she didn't have to talk to people or pretend to be someone else. The raven haired woman wore her leather jacket, her gloves, all of it, for a very specific reason. After all, the very thought of human touch made the woman freeze in fear. It had been something she'd been working on, and had made quite a bit of progress in, obviously, but... enough to wear a party dress around people she barely knew? The assassin, opened her mouth to suggest something when they were interrupted by Maxwell, Wilson, and the man the Jeannette affectionately called 'Wulfy'.

The woman's one good eye glanced over the two men on the ground, quickly glancing between Frank, Jeannette, and then back again as the performer spoke about 'putting them with the others'. Shilo stiffened a bit, wondering if that meant what she thought. She watched as 'Wulfy' dragged the two males away, only to be stopped by the one who had given the order. There was something about the way that Wulfrik reacted to his lover. A kind of passionate willingness to provide her with anything that she wanted. Something about it made the assassin's stomach ache. She couldn't tell what it was, possibly jealousy for never having that kind of power over someone, or disgust for Jeannette's ability to have that kind of power over someone.

There was definitely a kind of intoxicating idea to being able to entice people so much that they would do your bidding without question, even killing strangers... but at the same time, there was a type of loss of will in that kind of behavior, and Shilo didn't like that thought at all. No one, under any circumstances, should ever feel like they had no will of their own. She, herself, had felt that kind of loss of self for eleven years. Though, it hadn't been a romanticized, loving type of loss.

The assassin took a deep breath, it was silent, but her chest extended out further than normal, showing the larger intake of air. She held it for a few moments, before slowly letting it out through her nose. She had gotten lost in thought, thinking back to her child hood. She had hated that time, and now felt a bit uneasy about being in the back rooms much longer. Fresh air, the star-y sky, anything other than a cramped room filled with people that she barely knew.

Shilo flexed her hands a bit, trying to steady herself. While she'd been focused on her thoughts, Jeannette had apparently recruited Maxwell and Wilson as more members for the mission. Fine by her, the two men could come in handy, in some way or another. The twenty-one year old woman watched as the singer sat back down on some invisible chair, trying to follow along as she explained that it was somewhat unlikely that the group would be followed after they had followed through the with the murder of The King. Well, that was at least comforting. At the clarification that their new target didn't know anything about them other than their whereabouts, Shilo gave a curt nod. That was an easy fix. They could get ready at a moments notice, grab a few more recruits that could be helpful on this type of mission, and head out within fifteen minutes if they played their cards right.

The young woman gave a gentle scoff at the word 'magic', looking back over the knives that she had been given. "Yeah... magic..." She murmured. For a brief moment, Shilo remembered the fairy tails that her mother used to read to her at night, filled with magic and monsters. They'd always left her curious if that kind of thing had ever existed across all the different dimensions and worlds. Apparently, somehow, she'd been pulled into one that had it. Younger me would flip her fucking shit if she had any idea that this was going to happen to her someday. Shilo thought to herself as she slid the knives into different spots on her belt. It was easy to tell the cold iron throwing knives from the others that she had hidden on her person, luckily. The last thing they needed was the perfect shot and for her to pull out the wrong knife.

Once again, at the mention of a change in wardrobe, Shilo hesitated. Her boots, pants, and t-shirt combo really were not a good pair to blend into this kind of crowd, obviously. She let out a gentle, sigh, brushing a hand through her hair. She flashed Frank a look, almost as if to silently voice her discomfort, but her lack of speaking up proved that she knew changing was a good idea. She gave another nod to Jeannette as she explained the instructions of what to do once they made it to the next club, easily storing it in her memory before heading out of the room and to find her change in costume.

As expected, Shilo didn't take long to find a dress that she rationalize wearing. It was wine red that showed more skin than she wanted, but it was the only she found that had a long and loose skirt, which she needed to hide her knives. It was good that Frank looked so much older than she did, so no one would second guess why a girl her age would be wearing a dress that was closer to evening wear than club wear. She grabbed a pair of black heels before slipping out of her jacket to reveal the athletic tape that she had wrapped around her arms from her wrists to three fourths of the way up her forearm. It was as gray-brown color from rubbing against her leather jacket, the ends of it rolled up as it lost its adhesiveness. As if she did this everyday, the woman grabbed the end of the tape and unwrapped it quickly, in an almost rhythmic motion. She tossed the two balls of tape away before heading into a changing room where she'd be able to clean the sticky residue off of her arms before slipping into the dress.

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The assassin stepped out of dressing room, balancing easily in the heels as she readjusted the black silk ribbon around her throat, making sure it was tight enough to stay, but not too tight as to choke her. Shilo's fit well into the dress, her natural c-cup sized breasts adding a bit more cleavage to the garment than she had expected them to. She bit the inside of her lip as she looked over the dress, brushing her long, black hair over her left shoulder, keeping her bangs in place to cover her eye. "Ready to kill a Pit Fiend?" She asked, meeting Frank's gaze.
 
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Lucario

Lucario could definitely tell that he was throwing Aoba off with his switches in personality. The canine had always given such a reaction to many new allies in how he could switch from determined to happy to completely serious in just a few beats. No one back home was ever able to figure him out- not even those at the Expedition Society. The name of the organization that Lucario had run with before being taken here brought him some memories... both good and bad, unfortunately.

This did not keep Lucario from feeling horrible about his unintentional ability to completely turn around the tone of a conversation, though. Aoba actually sounded quite concerned with how Lucario was acting all of a sudden. The Aura Pokemon tried to save it with a reassuring laugh. That failed, too; his chuckle was so forced that pretty much anyone who would hear it knew it was fake. Lucario forced himself to shut his mouth and not speak anymore while he scolded himself- I'd just make this situation worse... again...

"You know if there's something bothering you you can just talk to me about it. I mean, I'm not a certified psychologist but I'm always happy to offer a hand," Aoba suddenly said and jolted Lucario from the growing emptiness in his heart. Such words... they felt so wonderful to Lucario. The canine leaned forward and gave what he presumed was a human a hug out of what seemed to be nowhere. To Lucario... this truly was just another day.

Mentions:
Mythias Mythias ​
 
The blue creature hung around near the door, sitting on a bench near it and just thinking. After a while they seemingly feel asleep. This in truth was only half right, they were resting but their body was still on alert, as the only body available sleeping in a strange place full of other creatures set off a good number of nature's alarms, lovingly crafted into their instinct. Nonetheless they looked asleep and for the most part they were. Their thoughts slowed, as did their breathing and the rest of their functions. After however they got here they were tired... and hungry.
 

  • Frank couldn't help but feel disgusted as Jeannette implied that her main meals consisted of human flesh. He managed to keep in line, hiding his feelings, before the superhuman woman addressed him and Shilo. Seems they would have to do the job quietly unless they wanted their heads cut off.

    "So you're telling me that we more or less have to get rid of this 'King' quietly?" The Marine inquired, exhaling aloud as he rubbed his chin. The stakes seemed high- higher than what odds he had faced back in the Black Ops division, that was for sure. At the notion that the King had no clue exactly who they were sans they were located in Pocket D, he nodded.

    "Alright, good. At least we know he doesn't know who exactly you're gonna send- but I'd still be careful and add reinforcements to my guard list and have another agent check it out if I were him. I don't think he's gonna just straight-up ignore the fact that we just got caught spying on him." He leaned onto the table as he spoke, quietly disliking the idea of magic making his gun literally feckless.

    "Alright, so we're not going in completely blind. Good," The male shook his head up and down, mentally putting the intel away for the time being. After doing so, he silently watched his new partner-in-crime's reaction, including her expression at his proposal. He continued watching up to the point where she took the tape off, revealing the cut skin underneath. At that point, he figured it would be good to change appearance too.

    After a few moments, the Vietnam veteran emerged from the hallways, wearing a relatively untouched tuxedo with bow tie. It wasn't as comfortable as his loose-fitting T-shirt, but it could fit a play scabbard, which in turn hid his cold-steel weapon. As for his beloved M16, it would just have to stay lest it gave his appearance away, so as soon as he entered Jeannette's room he put it on the desk.

    MZ00032_BLACK

    "All I got to say is that nothing better happen to my gun," Woods grumbled, looking up just in time to see Shilo re-enter, looking like a brand new girl. She still seemed to keep her cool air as she asked him if he was ready to head out.

    "Pit Fiend, demon, monster- who really cares what it's called? If it's killable, I think we can get rid of it," The Marine smirked, before taking of the final piece of clothing that made him remotely resemble like a ragged warrior- his green bandanna. He wrapped it around the M16, allowing others to see- along the fact that it was armed to the teeth with attachments- that it was his rifle and nobody else's.
 
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Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: YellowTemperence YellowTemperence
Mood: Slightly bored/Little bit bewildered
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Nostalgia

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YellowTemperence said:
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Lucario

Lucario could definitely tell that he was throwing Aoba off with his switches in personality. The canine had always given such a reaction to many new allies in how he could switch from determined to happy to completely serious in just a few beats. No one back home was ever able to figure him out- not even those at the Expedition Society. The name of the organization that Lucario had run with before being taken here brought him some memories... both good and bad, unfortunately.

This did not keep Lucario from feeling horrible about his unintentional ability to completely turn around the tone of a conversation, though. Aoba actually sounded quite concerned with how Lucario was acting all of a sudden. The Aura Pokemon tried to save it with a reassuring laugh. That failed, too; his chuckle was so forced that pretty much anyone who would hear it knew it was fake. Lucario forced himself to shut his mouth and not speak anymore while he scolded himself- I'd just make this situation worse... again...

"You know if there's something bothering you you can just talk to me about it. I mean, I'm not a certified psychologist but I'm always happy to offer a hand," Aoba suddenly said and jolted Lucario from the growing emptiness in his heart. Such words... they felt so wonderful to Lucario. The canine leaned forward and gave what he presumed was a human a hug out of what seemed to be nowhere. To Lucario... this truly was just another day.

Mentions:
Mythias Mythias ​
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"Uh..." Aoba was confused in a concerned way for Lucario as he was observing the latter's conflicted body language. He realised that his words had definitely set the Pokemon off in a negative - or even traumatic - way, although Aoba wasn't sure as to what exactly was on Lucario's mind. Regardless of the scenario that was inside the canine-like entity, Aoba was still extremely worried for the former's well-being. He knew that most people who had some sort of internal turmoil always put on a happy-go-lucky exterior, and considering how "human" Lucario was behaving, from his overly-excited but otherwise intricate speech patterns to his rollercoaster-like emotional phases, it was likely he was also doing the same.

The forced chuckle the Pokemon let out also sounded fake. In fact, it was so fake to the point it actually made Aoba even more concerned, and he found himself, butting his head in other's personal affairs again, asking Lucario, "Are you okay? Do you want me to get a glass of water to help you calm down?" Whatever the answer that Lucario gave to the last question, Aoba quickly turned to the bartender's line of sight and asked the latter to give him a glass of water. After a few seconds, the request was fulfilled, and he clutched onto the glass, before offering it to the seemingly-distressed Pokemon. "Here, drink some water."

As soon as Aoba finished his statement, Lucario had leaned forward and gave him a hug. Caught completely off guard, Aoba nearly dropped the full glass onto the glossy flooring beneath his feet, but his reflexes were quick enough for him to just slosh out a few water droplets onto his shoes. "WOAH!" Aoba was a little embarrassed at the Aura Pokemon's sudden affection, especially since he was in the view of the public. However, he knew that if he were to shrug Lucario off right now, then his words would've been seen as lies, so Aoba returned the hug as well, in hopes that the Pokemon would calm down.

"It's okay, I'm here." Aoba patted Lucario's back a few times to comfort the latter. He felt like a parent watching over their child as he was doing so, but it did feel nice to try and help others in need.
 
It was worth giving Wilson a taste of his own medicine. Not worth it enough though to be eaten by Wulfrik's presumed girlfriend or frozen and then eaten. Being tossed to the ground like discarded trash probably left some marks, however he was relieved that he wasn't going to be eaten.
Albeit still afraid of being eaten, Maxwell was also curious as to what she was with fangs and all.
"You're too kind..." Maxwell drawled, he got up slowly by himself. He wasn't about to start trusting the same woman who saw him as a potential meal.
He'd failed to notice before but he saw the soldier from earlier and the woman who helped defeat the cyborg from when he'd first came to the city. They'd already been told this mission by the looks of it and already knew what to do.
He hadn't the faintest idea what was going on right now but he'd listen. But he picked up that if he didn't help then he'd be dead as a doorknob.
The magician avoided the woman's gaze and looked at her from the corner of his eyes. He cleared his throat "I can use magic... and I don't require anything... Unless you have some armor. But, if I might ask, what kind of being is this king you want killed?" Maxwell decided probing for some information could greatly increase his chance of survival.

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Nightwisher Nightwisher Haz. Haz.
 
Infuriated Infant said:
  • View attachment 419141

    Wilson let out a petrified yelp as Wulfrik snatched him by the throat and effortlessly tore him off of his seat, practically dislocating his neck with how casually he dragged him across the bar. After slaying monsters of varying sizes and strengths, after toppling creatures who viewed him as no more than a resilient meal, this was how he'd die? In a city, surrounded by a civilisation he found more disturbing than fascinating, where no one would hear him scream as a 7-foot-something man dragged him backstage where, for all he knew, he could be planning to shred him into topping and serve him on a salad.
    Alas, he wasn't too far off. Higgsbury hit the planks with a hard thud, the clattering of his teeth all-too comically audible to all those who surrounded him. It wasn't often he'd find himself this piss-yourself scared, practically frozen in motion and too fearful to look up.
    "Please put me back in the Constant, put me back in the Constant, put me back in the Constant..." He softly murmured to himself repeatedly. His terror would've been hilarious, had it not been the demeanour of anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in his shoes.
    "What can you handsome men do that adds to the mission? The others will explain it to you. I just need to know if you have any... weapons of choice."
    And then... His sobbing ceased. The voice of Jeanette froze him, but in a way much different than that of Wulfrik's. He felt entranced, his head moving along like a paperweight as the woman's finger traced along his chin. He opened his mouth to speak, but found no words escaping his breath. His teeth shut tight around his tongue, digging into the flesh and squeezing out a drop of blood, which dribbled from the corner of his lips. Despite that, however, he found himself unflinching. Unmoving, even, as though he wasn't even aware of it.
    "I... P-Prefer..." He could hardly finish his sentence, let alone speak without sounding like his vocal cords were being wrangled by a frog.
    "I prefer staves, m-ma'am."

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Jeannette smiled faintly at the man. She looked like she was probably a bit younger than Wilson. Her finger traced up along his cheek until she came away with the blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Licking it off her finger, for a split second, her eyes almost seemed to turn a deep red. Before one could really ask about it, though, they returned to normal. "Staves... a bit hard to bludgeon such a being to death, but I will provide you with such a weapon." Her hand dragged along the air, and, in that empty space, a long, metallic quarterstaff appeared, the metal frigid to the touch as she handed it to Wilson. If he'd been expecting the staff to actually do anything, though, he'd be sorely disappointed.
​
-Nightwisher- said:
~Shilo Saga~
Interactions: Frank Woods ( FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla ) and Jeannette ( BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 )
Mentions: Maxwell ( ManyFaces ManyFaces ) and Wilson Higgsbury ( Haz. Haz. )
Location: Pocket D (Back Rooms)​

Shilo flashed a look at Frank when he mentioned 'party clothing'. It was a good plan, but Shilo didn't know how she would be able to wear that type of clothing around this group, in this city. It had taken nearly a year of living with the Team before she'd been comfortable enough to engage in missions other than stealth, where she didn't have to talk to people or pretend to be someone else. The raven haired woman wore her leather jacket, her gloves, all of it, for a very specific reason. After all, the very thought of human touch made the woman freeze in fear. It had been something she'd been working on, and had made quite a bit of progress in, obviously, but... enough to wear a party dress around people she barely knew? The assassin, opened her mouth to suggest something when they were interrupted by Maxwell, Wilson, and the man the Jeannette affectionately called 'Wulfy'.

The woman's one good eye glanced over the two men on the ground, quickly glancing between Frank, Jeannette, and then back again as the performer spoke about 'putting them with the others'. Shilo stiffened a bit, wondering if that meant what she thought. She watched as 'Wulfy' dragged the two males away, only to be stopped by the one who had given the order. There was something about the way that Wulfrik reacted to his lover. A kind of passionate willingness to provide her with anything that she wanted. Something about it made the assassin's stomach ache. She couldn't tell what it was, possibly jealousy for never having that kind of power over someone, or disgust for Jeannette's ability to have that kind of power over someone.

There was definitely a kind of intoxicating idea to being able to entice people so much that they would do your bidding without question, even killing strangers... but at the same time, there was a type of loss of will in that kind of behavior, and Shilo didn't like that thought at all. No one, under any circumstances, should ever feel like they had no will of their own. She, herself, had felt that kind of loss of self for eleven years. Though, it hadn't been a romanticized, loving type of loss.

The assassin took a deep breath, it was silent, but her chest extended out further than normal, showing the larger intake of air. She held it for a few moments, before slowly letting it out through her nose. She had gotten lost in thought, thinking back to her child hood. She had hated that time, and now felt a bit uneasy about being in the back rooms much longer. Fresh air, the star-y sky, anything other than a cramped room filled with people that she barely knew.

Shilo flexed her hands a bit, trying to steady herself. While she'd been focused on her thoughts, Jeannette had apparently recruited Maxwell and Wilson as more members for the mission. Fine by her, the two men could come in handy, in some way or another. The twenty-one year old woman watched as the singer sat back down on some invisible chair, trying to follow along as she explained that it was somewhat unlikely that the group would be followed after they had followed through the with the murder of The King. Well, that was at least comforting. At the clarification that their new target didn't know anything about them other than their whereabouts, Shilo gave a curt nod. That was an easy fix. They could get ready at a moments notice, grab a few more recruits that could be helpful on this type of mission, and head out within fifteen minutes if they played their cards right.

The young woman gave a gentle scoff at the word 'magic', looking back over the knives that she had been given. "Yeah... magic..." She murmured. For a brief moment, Shilo remembered the fairy tails that her mother used to read to her at night, filled with magic and monsters. They'd always left her curious if that kind of thing had ever existed across all the different dimensions and worlds. Apparently, somehow, she'd been pulled into one that had it. Younger me would flip her fucking shit if she had any idea that this was going to happen to her someday. Shilo thought to herself as she slid the knives into different spots on her belt. It was easy to tell the cold iron throwing knives from the others that she had hidden on her person, luckily. The last thing they needed was the perfect shot and for her to pull out the wrong knife.

Once again, at the mention of a change in wardrobe, Shilo hesitated. Her boots, pants, and t-shirt combo really were not a good pair to blend into this kind of crowd, obviously. She let out a gentle, sigh, brushing a hand through her hair. She flashed Frank a look, almost as if to silently voice her discomfort, but her lack of speaking up proved that she knew changing was a good idea. She gave another nod to Jeannette as she explained the instructions of what to do once they made it to the next club, easily storing it in her memory before heading out of the room and to find her change in costume.

As expected, Shilo didn't take long to find a dress that she rationalize wearing. It was wine red that showed more skin than she wanted, but it was the only she found that had a long and loose skirt, which she needed to hide her knives. It was good that Frank looked so much older than she did, so no one would second guess why a girl her age would be wearing a dress that was closer to evening wear than club wear. She grabbed a pair of black heels before slipping out of her jacket to reveal the athletic tape that she had wrapped around her arms from her wrists to three fourths of the way up her forearm. It was as gray-brown color from rubbing against her leather jacket, the ends of it rolled up as it lost its adhesiveness. As if she did this everyday, the woman grabbed the end of the tape and unwrapped it quickly, in an almost rhythmic motion. She tossed the two balls of tape away before heading into a changing room where she'd be able to clean the sticky residue off of her arms before slipping into the dress.

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The assassin stepped out of dressing room, balancing easily in the heels as she readjusted the black silk ribbon around her throat, making sure it was tight enough to stay, but not too tight as to choke her. Shilo's fit well into the dress, her natural c-cup sized breasts adding a bit more cleavage to the garment than she had expected them to. She bit the inside of her lip as she looked over the dress, brushing her long, black hair over her left shoulder, keeping her bangs in place to cover her eye. "Ready to kill a Pit Fiend?" She asked, meeting Frank's gaze.
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FactionGuerrilla said:

  • (WIP)
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Jeanette's eyes turned towards the two of them. She licked her lips. "I could just eat you both up. Glad to see you're so eager. Be careful, though. This being is beyond the strength of mortal men. If you've ever faced anything even close to it in power, aside from myself, I'd honestly be surprised." The singer's head tilted to the side as they continued to ask questions. "Yes, you have to do it quietly. If you want to live, anyways. I guarantee you that every seemingly weaker patron in there could break you in half, let alone the bodyguards. That is, if you decide to kill him. Diplomacy is an option, if you think you'd be better off convincing him to stop, than killing him. Maybe offer a favor, or even your service, in return. I'll still pay you, if that happens, and you can keep the weapons, for what they're worth."

"I'd also be very careful with what you refer to him as. Do not call anyone in that club a demon. Don't even say the word demon. You will die. Worse, you'll be taken to Hell and turned into a Lemure to serve as a drink tray." Again, she seemed very serious all of the sudden. "Going there is, truly, a fate worse than death."
​
ManyFaces said:
It was worth giving Wilson a taste of his own medicine. Not worth it enough though to be eaten by Wulfrik's presumed girlfriend or frozen and then eaten. Being tossed to the ground like discarded trash probably left some marks, however he was relieved that he wasn't going to be eaten.
Albeit still afraid of being eaten, Maxwell was also curious as to what she was with fangs and all.
"You're too kind..." Maxwell drawled, he got up slowly by himself. He wasn't about to start trusting the same woman who saw him as a potential meal.
He'd failed to notice before but he saw the soldier from earlier and the woman who helped defeat the cyborg from when he'd first came to the city. They'd already been told this mission by the looks of it and already knew what to do.
He hadn't the faintest idea what was going on right now but he'd listen. But he picked up that if he didn't help then he'd be dead as a doorknob.
The magician avoided the woman's gaze and looked at her from the corner of his eyes. He cleared his throat "I can use magic... and I don't require anything... Unless you have some armor. But, if I might ask, what kind of being is this king you want killed?" Maxwell decided probing for some information could greatly increase his chance of survival.

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Nightwisher Nightwisher Haz. Haz.
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Without immediately answering, Jeannette waved a hand, causing a chain-mail hauberk to appear. It didn't appear to be made of any strange material. It was just an iron hauberk. "The King is a Pit Fiend. A prince of the Nine Hells. I do not know his true name, but I do not think he is one of the Dukes, and I know he is not one of the Archdevils, or else he'd already have killed all of us. You need either magic, cold iron, or silver to kill him, so, if you have magic, you should be fine. Subtlety is of the utmost importance though, as, if you are discovered, you will likely be dead before you even have a chance to defend yourself, unless you are very fast talkers."

ManyFaces ManyFaces FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Haz. Haz. Nightwisher Nightwisher
​
 
BarrenThin2 said:

Geralt frowned a bit. Artificial slave. That was a harsh way to put it. One thing CHEF certainly had over golems and elementals was his intelligence. If he didn't know any better, Geralt would even say that CHEF reminded him of a human in his sentience, but he wasn't sure that a construct could ever achieve that kind of independent thought, so much as whatever thought its creator planted there. "At least you're free now, right?"

CHEF then rattled off several things, none of which meant anything to Geralt. "Honestly, friend, I don't have a clue what you just said, but nice job taking it down, I guess." The Witcher shook his head and took another bite of his food. "If we can get you that strong again, we might just stand a chance. Me, I'm not feeling really all there. Could really use my armor and my swords, if only to make me feel a bit better."
​



Geralt leaned forward, too, hi bright yellow, cat-like eyes searching Rick's for any hint of hidden motivation. "If I may be blunt, I have no idea what a police station is. I'm going to guess you mean a guard house, or something along those lines; in which case, no. We only just got here. Now, maybe, just maybe I heard something, but it'd take something pretty serious to jog my memory."

Wulfrik watched the table closely, across the room.

fRick fRick DapperDogman DapperDogman Corrosion Corrosion uwupolice uwupolice​
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"As free as a robot can be, yes," the machine says, almost sounding somewhat dejected, and dismissive of the idea of 'freedom'. Where he came from, Robots served. That was their purpose. While intelligent, he could think of no other purpose than serving humans "My service goes beyond an order or a directive...I know no other function, I bear no other ambition"

He opens his hands upwards as if to mime the emptiness he was explaining "'Freedom is the power to choose your own chains' - Jean Jaques Rousseau" he says somewhat simply "I am free to choose who I serve, but without a master...My existence would mean nothing"

"The day I can make freedom my goal, I will have it. Is that not poetic in its own tragic sort of way?" he asks, pondering the question himself for a long moment as if having a sudden epiphany about the nature of his slavery. The idea that his slavery came from within himself.

uwupolice uwupolice BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Corrosion Corrosion fRick fRick​
 
A Common Man said:
Mood: Still Happy Hour
Interactions: Mythias Mythias YellowTemperence YellowTemperence darkred darkred

Vault Boy smiled and listened as the weird alien thing introduced himself as Jak, and introduced someone called Lucario. Vault Boy turned to look around and noticed the blue...weird alien thing? "Nice to meet you too. But yeah, this place seems pretty wild." Vault Boy said with a chuckle.

When did the weird blue thing even come here? I swear weird blue alien thing was not here before. Vault Boy thought. Vault Boy also waved at the blue haird boy. Oh so that's Lucario. Vault Boy thought. He then raised his eyes a bit when the blue haired boy mentioned his name was Aoba. If he is Aoba and the weird alien thing is Jak, then who is Lucario? Vault Boy thought.

He was a bit too drunk to know the weird blue thing was Lucario."So how are you folks doing so far?" Vault Boy asked.
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[
Mythias said:
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: YellowTemperence YellowTemperence
Mood: Slightly bored/Little bit bewildered
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Nostalgia

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"Uh..." Aoba was confused in a concerned way for Lucario as he was observing the latter's conflicted body language. He realised that his words had definitely set the Pokemon off in a negative - or even traumatic - way, although Aoba wasn't sure as to what exactly was on Lucario's mind. Regardless of the scenario that was inside the canine-like entity, Aoba was still extremely worried for the former's well-being. He knew that most people who had some sort of internal turmoil always put on a happy-go-lucky exterior, and considering how "human" Lucario was behaving, from his overly-excited but otherwise intricate speech patterns to his rollercoaster-like emotional phases, it was likely he was also doing the same.

The forced chuckle the Pokemon let out also sounded fake. In fact, it was so fake to the point it actually made Aoba even more concerned, and he found himself, butting his head in other's personal affairs again, asking Lucario, "Are you okay? Do you want me to get a glass of water to help you calm down?" Whatever the answer that Lucario gave to the last question, Aoba quickly turned to the bartender's line of sight and asked the latter to give him a glass of water. After a few seconds, the request was fulfilled, and he clutched onto the glass, before offering it to the seemingly-distressed Pokemon. "Here, drink some water."

As soon as Aoba finished his statement, Lucario had leaned forward and gave him a hug. Caught completely off guard, Aoba nearly dropped the full glass onto the glossy flooring beneath his feet, but his reflexes were quick enough for him to just slosh out a few water droplets onto his shoes. "WOAH!" Aoba was a little embarrassed at the Aura Pokemon's sudden affection, especially since he was in the view of the public. However, he knew that if he were to shrug Lucario off right now, then his words would've been seen as lies, so Aoba returned the hug as well, in hopes that the Pokemon would calm down.

"It's okay, I'm here." Aoba patted Lucario's back a few times to comfort the latter. He felt like a parent watching over their child as he was doing so, but it did feel nice to try and help others in need.
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Jak eyed Vault boy and shrugged "Other than it being quiet, I guess I can say I'm alright."

He looked over at Aoba and looked over at Lucario "Hey, Lucario... are you alright?

He may of looked cold from the outside, but inside he worried a bit.

YellowTemperence YellowTemperence Mythias Mythias
 
image.png


The club was buzzing with life, it appeared to be in some of its peak hours in the passing few hours but that was unexpected from the club detached from time. People were cheering, dancing, singing, chatting, it was the whole works tonight. Jeanette was out performing on stage today and the patrons of the club were loving it. Drinks were shared, stories were told, business was thriving. Shortly after the singer had entered backstage with Shilo and Woods, the entrance of the club was lightly pushed open by a feminine hand.

The figure entered the club, door gently swinging shut behind her. She took short strides as she walked down the isle of the establishment, the short strides didn't echo naivete but rather confidence and pride. Brown shoes contrasting the bright, flamboyant costume donned by the woman. A mesh of red, orange and yellow complimented by a set of luscious green hair painted the picture that had been seen once before by the group of 'heroes'. The old face, Niwatori had found her way into the club after seemingly disappearing for a lengthy period of time.

She had the usual young, timid look about her, the same as before she had left. Pitchfork in hand, she stands and surveys the club; a proud and relaxed smile on her face. Eyes resting at the backstage entrance, she turns her head and walks to bar, taking a seat on one of the stools far down the row away from any familiar faces. The bartender would offer for her order to which she responded with a glass of water. Swinging her legs on the stool in a child-like fashion, the chicken would hum a upbeat tune to herself, waiting for her drink.

When served, the green-haired girl would shoot a warm smile at the bartender, thanking him for his hospitality. Niwatori sat at the stool almost as if she was in a world of her own, taking small sips from her glass of water almost looking like she was preoccupied with something else.

Shortly after, Maxwell and Wilson were dragged backstage by Wulfrick. Instinctively noticing this, she swings off her seat and swigs down the rest of her drink, taking her weapon in her hand; following straight behind the two trouble-makers.

Striding through the performers was easy enough for her, she practically blended in as part of the act in her carnival costume, peering in backstage as the singer talked to the group of familiar faces. Straightening her costume; she smiles and turns the corner, stretching her arms as she announced her presence to the backstage group.

"Hi everyone, I'm Niwatori if you forgot who I was!" She proclaimed to the group, intruding in on their conversation.
"Don't worry, I'm not part of the staff! I know my costume almost makes it look that way, but I'm not; I promise." She continued to speak in a complacent manner.

Looking rather cheerful, a small Verdin flutters down from some sort of perch near the ceiling, presumably from the curtain pole and lands on her shoulder.
"So, I heard about your adventure! You mind if I come along too? I promise I'll do good!"

image.png


BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 ​
 
'Was mache ich denn da..? (What am I doing..?)'



Ever since she had done what was very likely a criminal act, Asuka found herself questioning her own morality as she wandered around the streets, her eyes looking off towards crowds, and crowds, of people walking by, minding their own business. She knows what she had done, but she can't help but feel guilty about it. If she had told her parents all about it, they would've readily abandoned her and gotten a new Asuka, while she, the reject, would be hunted down by the police. At the same time, if she kept her mouth shut, eventually, her parents would've found out and, just like that, booted her away before getting said new Asuka. Luckily, this was a dilemma she didn't have to face back in her native home, Germany, since she was not there. Nonetheless, she was worrying all about it because she thought, someday she will be caught.

Because she could be recognized as a criminal at any time.

As she desperately looked for a place to stay, where she might blend in, the young German girl began hearing calming jazz music from a nearby place. She wondered where it might be coming from, so she began looking around for the source of that music. Eventually, when she finally found the source of the music, she had stumbled near Pocket D, an old, antique-looking nightclub, glowing with neon in the stark darkness of Millennium City itself. Although she did get a few mixed messages, such as a few details here and there, she did not mind them as though it at least was not that haunted house from before. Now, she was intrigued; never in her life had she been in a nightclub before, and she thought it was just for adults who don't let their kids stay up late all night long. Then, she began to make her entrance in the glamour of Pocket D itself.



As Asuka finally entered the place she found herself greeted by what was a large, dazzling grandeur of an interior. Musicians were on stage, playing the music that she first heard while out on the streets as though they have nothing to worry about at time time. The red satin walls, red, dim spotlights, dark red fabric-smooth sofas, rich mahogany tables, the carpet, oh, oh, that all not only complimented the beauty of Pocket D, but actually added to it. The food, too, was a luxurious sight, AND smell, with the servings of immaculately-cooked meat catching her attention. Because she was hungry, she couldn't help but to readily accept a seat offering just so she could finally eat, after all those days of stress. All of that served to give her a warm, calm feeling of safety after so long, and it looked as though she would want to live there if it were a hotel that holds guests in rooms, or "pockets", instead.

Well, mostly.

At the same time of the calming sensory, while the little girl ordered water and hot dogs, there was a little bit of chaos going on around here. Namely, Wilson and Maxwell were being carried backdoors by a large, burly man who had found their arguing and tussling to be simply too much for the guests in the club to fathom. Asuka wondered what had happened to lead to this point in the dispute, but despite so, she no longer minded it as soon as she waited for her food. A blue-skinned creature was sitting around near the door, hungry, as it waited for someone else to possibly tend to it. Again, she did not mind that, as she looked towards a conversation going on between the eco warrior, Lucario, Aoba, and the Vault Boy. Eventually, her order arrived, and she was about to eat it, until she realized that she was in a mech suit.

So, Asuka proceeded to reach for the eject button located at the ceiling of her mech's cockpit and pressed it. The Eva's back opened up, and spouted out a pair of stairs, allowing her to safely climb back down from the robot itself. However, when she tried to get out, she found out with a nasty surprise that her legs were asleep, causing some difficulty in getting out of the robot. This worried her; she tried kicking, but her legs remained asleep, so she tried kicking again, again without response from her legs. Eventually, however, she began feeling a slight burning, and tingling, sensation with her legs, as they awakened.

Relieved, as soon as her legs awakened enough for her to move them around reliably, she finally climbed out of the mech, but if anyone were to look at her, she looked rather unkempt. Her hair was messed up from the constant headbanging due to the ongoing constant action almost everywhere she went. Her eyes had black-and-purple bags under them, meaning that she had gotten a little tired from controlling that robot all day. However, her clothes remained relatively clean and tidy, if a little slightly tampered, the ribbon slightly undone, and a little bit wrinkled. Despite so, it was a relief for Asuka, as she had never gotten out of her robot for the first time in a while.

The little girl proceeded to step to another, nearby stool and sat there before bringing her hot dogs and water near her. Then, she started by eating the hot dogs. How the hot dogs tasted were irresistibly delicious; juicy, tasty, and it was though it was enough to take her to flavor heaven. in other words, the hot dogs were perfect to her, and she now felt as though she would want to come back here just so she can eat. The redhead pilot's attention was not caught by virtually anything that was going on in the interior of Pocket D.

Well, that is, until she wondered what was going on at the backstage of the very nightclub, Pocket D.

The pilot did not want to miss out on what was happening between Wilson and Maxwell after they had been taken there, so she proceeded to gulp down her food and drink. Afterwards, she proceeded to go back to her robot, climb up its stairs, and then enter the cockpit before the mech detected that she had fully entered it, so it then closed its back. Grabbing onto the handles once again, she began pulling them, controlling the mech to get up and go towards the backstage door. She then stumbled across what looked like that team of antiheroes from before, among others, including the likes of Niwatori, Shilo, Jeanette, CHEF, Alex Mercer, Detective Rick, and Frank. Finally, Asuka controlled her mech to put its hand up, but slightly.

"H--Hawwo...uh... Vat is zis? (H--Hello...uh... What is this?)"

Asuka said. Just like before, this was not a good attempt at English, since she based that speech off what other people have said, plus, it was heavily accented.

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Nightwisher Nightwisher Centurion_ Centurion_ DapperDogman DapperDogman Corrosion Corrosion fRick fRick FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla​
 
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widowmaker | amelié lacroix









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    Amelies gaze slowly danced between the three as they talked with the newcomer, her knife and fork sliding along the steak. She made sure to rid of any fat and cut them into precise squares before guiding them into her mouth.
    The curious skinned woman continued to quietly eat and take sips of her pinot noir, observing her table and eventually those around her.

    It was filled to the brim with eerily familiar faces and even more entering the red-bricked building.
    Soon, commotion ensued and she shifted her golden orbs back to her fellow allies - and the detective.
    "Should we check that out..?" The assassin asked in a lower tone, brushing down her form-fitting dress.

    (( eugh, sorry. Was really short but I needed to get this done

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    mood: nani?!
    health: parfait
    location: pocket d
    outfit:     jazzy
    ability: widow's kiss and grappling hook
    interactions: Corrosion Corrosion BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 DapperDogman DapperDogman fRick fRick @ whoever else lol. I'm too lazyyyy
    music: [/div][/div][/div]

[/div][/div][/div]
 
~Shilo Saga~
Interactions: Frank Woods ( FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla ), Jeannette ( BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 ), Maxwell ( ManyFaces ManyFaces ), and Asuka ( marc122 marc122 )
Mentions: Wilson Higgsbury ( Haz. Haz. ), Lucario ( YellowTemperence YellowTemperence ), The King, and Niwatori ( Centurion_ Centurion_ )
Location: Pocket D (Back Rooms) ​

Frank was right about the battle wounds on Shilo's arms and hands. The closes thing to self-harm that the assassin had ever gotten to was accidentally cutting herself during throwing practice. She was already in enough pain, there was no reason for her to add onto her suffering. When she had finally adjusted everything so it was comfortable and safe, the assassin slipped her gloves off and wrapped it with the rest of her clothes. She held the clump of leather and cloth close to her as if it was precious. After all, this was all her safety and comfort. These were the things that allowed her to go through the world like a normal human being. She walked back to the Jeannette's dressing room with Frank, setting her clothes, and the gun that she had just received from the failed assassin, next to the Marine's weapons. At Jeannette's comment about "eating them up" Shilo rolled her shoulder's back, a bit uncomfortable. Not so much for the hint at the other woman's obvious other worldliness, but at the hint of a compliment. The assassin didn't take praise very well, which was a mix of never being in someone's spotlight, hating attention, and just hating people addressing how she looked in general. There was something about the call to her looks that made the woman feel a myriad of emotions that she just hated feeling.

As Shilo walked by, she shot a side ways glance at Wilson and Maxwell trying to figure out how they could come in handy. Wilson seemed to be a quick thinker, and good with his hands and his surroundings, from what she could remember in the aftermath of the fight with the Nazi Stroheim. He had healed Lucario's wounds with some kind of solve... however, how helpful would that be against a Pit Fiend? Maxwell, on the other hand, had a darker kind of aura around him. Something about the man put the assassin on edge, much like Jeannette did. Something other worldly, something that just wasn't a normal thing for Shilo to find in her own world. That was what Maxwell reminded her of. Maybe whatever he could do was helpful. They would need to discuss it before hand, obviously, but for now, the assassin stuck closer to Frank, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in her new outfit.

However, her discomfort didn't show much. The heels forced Shilo's hips to sway in a more exaggerated manner, closer to how the singer's did when she walked. Over all, the assassin had a much more sexy vibe to her. Everything about her just seemed more delicate and elegant. The young woman always seemed graceful, but there was a toughness behind the grace. Now, she just seemed graceful. Her ability to walk in heels was one that she'd recently developed, thank you to her Team member Artemis. The older woman demanded that all members of Team 73 learned to walk in heels. It had been a fun training session, watching the 6 foot 4 Marine Vincent, Shilo's best friend, walking around in four in heels, while Shilo tried her like in five inches. The memory fondly flashed in the assassin's memory as she clipped her away across the floors.

Shilo furrowed her brow when she heard Wilson say he preferred staves as a weapon... How helpful could that possibly be to their cause? For now, the assassin didn't know... but she hoped to be proven wrong that it was useless, more to just see a staff beat a fifteen foot tall Hell beast. Now that would be a story for the ages. The corner of the assassin's mouth twitched a bit in amusement when Maxwell asked for armor, before stepping forward to address the shadow man. "When you say 'magic' what exactly do you mean? How are you going to be helpful to this mission?" Shilo asked, genuinely curious. The question held no sarcasm or hint of another meaning behind it, she just wanted to know why and who this man was going to be useful or if he was just going to be cannon fodder.

"Wait, we can choose the diplomatic route?" Shilo turned back to Jeannette, meeting the singer's gaze. "Do you have any suggestions on how to take that route? Like things we may be able to offer, or anything like that?" The assassin liked the thought of a challenge, and as this was a territory fight over two gangs she had nothing to do with, she could have a little bit of fun with it right? Why not try the diplomatic approach? If it didn't work out, they could just kill him and head out easily. The young woman looked at Frank with a gentle smirk dancing across her lips, the playful glint returning to her eye. This kind of thing, it was nothing more than a game to the assassin. After all, this wasn't exactly a big deal, at least not to what she was used to as the leader of Team 73, whose job was to, in not so many words, run the world. A little spat between super natural club owners was nothing at all. Maybe more dangerous, but in terms of importance? I barley even made the cut for entertainment.

At the threat of being dragged to Hell for calling the fine patrons of The King's club "demons" a genuine smile, the first she'd ever shown in her entire time in Millennium City, painted across her lips. Shilo's teeth were all white and straight, her canines, though nothing compared to Jeannette's, were long -- more than average, but nothing inhumane by any means. "Sounds great." There was just something about the way that the singer had warned them that genuinely amused the assassin. However, at the mention of the different weapons that were needed to kill the Pit Fiend, the assassin quirked an eyebrow. The throwing knives that had been given to her by the Stroheim fight greatly resembled those that she had inherited from Borys when he died, silver with a sapphire carefully embedded in the center of it. Good, if the cold iron was somehow used or taken, maybe she could find a way to hold onto those ones. She hid them more carefully on her body, considering they had sentimental value opposed to the cold iron knives.

While in the middle of her thoughts, the a familiar face stepped into the back area of the Pocket D club, interrupting the group. She a split second, Shilo wondered why the security in this place wasn't any better, but she pushed the thought aside to listen to the female's introduction and request. Niwatori promised to be good? What did that even mean? The assassin said nothing, but flashed a glance at Frank as if to ask "can we babysit and get the job done?" After all, Shilo, knew nothing about the other woman except that when the assassin had first joined the group, Frank had been keen on taking care of her. That wasn't an issue, but would they even be able to do that whilst also trying to either convince The King to stop with the dispute with Pocket D, let alone if it broke into an legitimate fight? That would be up to Frank, Jeannette, and Niwatori to decide. She wasn't going to comment on any of it.

To Shilo's surprise, however, another figure entered into the back rooms. The assassin blinked a few times before stepping forward, careful to keep an extra few inches from her already strict twelve inches away from those surrounding her. It was getting harder to do so as more and more people found their way back to the rooms. "Hey, Asuka. Oh, wir treffen uns nur über eine mission." ("Hey, Asuka. Oh, we're just meeting about a mission.") Shilo hesitated, knowing that Asuka was young, but also knowing that the child was quite effective in her mech suit. As the party grew, so did their chances of beating The King in a fight... however, so did their chances of getting caught. The assassin gently rubbed her jaw line with her middle finger as she thought about the plan, in her mind, as a whole and where it stood right now. The raven haired woman decided that the child might as well know what was going on, and then decide on what she wanted to do herself. And so, Shilo explained the situation to the young German girl to as much detail as she would any adult she was briefing for a mission.

After discussing everything with Asuka though assassin turned back to her Marine ally, finally getting the chance to take in how he looked in his new get up. The young leader of Team 73 looked over Frank in the tuxedo, her teal eye taking in everything about him to make sure he looked good enough. As she did so, the young woman grabbed her braided hair and wrapped it around into a bun, pulling a few strands down into a classy, yet still sexy, bun. Her bangs still hung in front of her eye as if it was their mission to make sure Shilo's full face was never seen. "Your bow tie is a little off. Want me to fix it?" she asked, waiting for an answer before she approached the Marine. He did look good enough, by the way, though that wasn't something Shilo cared to comment on.
 

  • "Well, whatever a Lemure is, it sure doesn't sound fun to hold drinks for whatever asswipes live down in Hell," Frank noted sarcastically, falling silent temporarily to weigh his options. He didn't want to go "diplomat" on the King considering he might be a bloodthirsty asshole- rather, he wished for a clean kill. If only the partygoers weren't actually harmful and were just harmless dumbasses- that would help a lot more. The chances of them pulling an assassination off seemed to shrink by the moment- too bad he was already acquainted with that kind of gamble.

    "So the odds are stacked against our favor? That's not really new news, but thanks for the tip,"     A sigh escaped the soldier's lips as he folded his arms, watching Saga's dicomfort. He also caught on to her glance at Wilson and Maxwell, in turn prompting him into thinking about both of them. At the mention of "magic", he couldn't help but question the effectiveness of such voodoo and whether or not it would work in the first place. There were way more unknowns than he would normally like.

    Once more, diplomacy was brought up. And once more, the Marine didn't like such ideas. He was a bit hesitant at doing such deals with the devil- hence making him more cautious than someone else, an extremity that was probably induced by the unknowns of Millennium.

    "I mean, if you're fine with that kinda approach, I guess we could try it. But I'm thinking that if he's literally a devil, he's not gonna be satisfied by a mere compromise. Hell, he might come back for more, and then we'd have to deal with his ass a second time. I say we smoke this guy real quiet, confirm the kill, and make sure we don't have to deal with this threat twice."

    At Shilo's response, Frank couldn't help but be reminded of him if he were younger and if he knew that he was in Vietnam rather than some freaky science-book city. He'd be a lot more confident if he didn't have shit like magic to wrap his head around; regardless, Niwatori's reappearance made him balk at the idea of going in gung-ho. One extra person to deal with, one extra possibility to fuck up their cover at the party.

    In response to Agent Saga's look, the S.O.G. member couldn't help but flash a face reading "There's no fucking way this isn't gonna go FUBAR,"- not in front of the Chicken "warrior", of course. But as he did so, the German girl showed up too, pretty much discarding any and all hopes he had for a quiet assassination attempt. The broken English was a surprise, though, and he couldn't help but wonder where she got it from.

    "Have you been teaching the kid English? Or has she found a way to actually try to talk our language?"     He asked Shilo with a tilt of his head. He paused for a moment, frowning, before declaring something else.

    "Y'know, maybe we should reconsider our options since we have more people here..." Woods stated. He watched Agent Saga as she made a bun in her hair, noting her aura of confidence. When she offered to fix his bow tie, he felt a little off-balance for whatever reason. He blinked a couple times, then nodded and took a couple of steps towards her, letting her get as close to the six-foot soldier as she wished.

    "If you're fine with doing that, sweetheart, then go ahead,"     Frank replied, letting a joking smirk creep up the corner of his lip.

 
lucario lean.png

Lucario

Lucario was so wrapped up in his own thoughts now that it was difficult to concentrate on what everyone was saying. They became blurs- distant sentences that felt like they belonged in another world. No matter how important, how shady, or how odd any conversation that Lucario would usually hear was, the canine tuned it all out. The only thing he did here was Aoba's question on if the Aura Pokemon wanted a glass of water. Yes, that would be simple enough. Water. Just water. An element Lucario was familiar with. Through his clouded mind, Lucario managed to form enough willpower to nod, though the movement was so slight that it was almost unnoticeable.

When the protector of Aura almost caused Aoba to spill the glass due to his hug, Lucario cared little for how much water actually spilled out. Despite the impressive fact of Aoba preventing the glass from fully falling out of his hands and shattering (which would probably anger some employees of this foreign place), Lucario ignored the almost-disaster and continued his embrace. The pats on the back from the blue-haired person felt wonderful to the canine. It was like he was back home with his stepfather, Carracosta, comforting him whenever he had slipped, fallen, and wounded himself. No matter how small the cut was, Lucario's stepfather was always there to take away the pain, and with this... 'Aoba,' it was like Carracosta was never taken from him.

Jak's question did not prompt Lucario to open his eyes and break off the hug. The protector of Aura instead pressed the hug slightly tighter and nodded. "I'm okay... I'm okay..." he repeated over and over again for a few seconds, though the statements were difficult to form in Lucario's chest and sounded empty even to him.

Mentions:
Mythias Mythias
darkred darkred
​
 
"Well, Wulfrik's certainly attracted quite a few new customers..." a soft voice spoke, before the sound of some paper being drawn from a pocket could be heard next to Lucario "I've seen a lot of fighters in my time...You got that special something about you, kid" the man speaks, offering a folded sheet to him "Drop by sometime if you're ever looking to make some money putting those skills to good use"

He walks away without another word, stopping to glance around the other patrons of the club, furrowing his brow as his eyes seemed to spend a long moment on each person, looking for that 'special something'. He stops after a long moment and approaches the bar, speaking to the tender "If you'd kindly inform Wulfrik that my employer has offered to double his last offer should he come fight for us...I'd appreciate it" not being very subtle at all, he slides a folded pair of $100 bills across the counter "Consider it a tip, made in good faith my message will be delivered"

As he walks back through the club, his eyes linger on a few people, but he doesn't hand out any further fliers. Though anyone who cared to hear his pitch could find him outside, enjoying a moment of peace and smoking a cigarette

YellowTemperence YellowTemperence Mythias Mythias BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2​
 
lucario kinda surprise expression.png

Lucario

Lucario's eyes snapped open this time. His head whipped around for his eyes to meet the man who was handing out a flier. His aura... the canine whispered in his mind. Odd... Lucario gently wiggled out of the hug between him and Aoba to free his arms and take the flier, the shine of a few tears visible in the fur on his cheeks. The Aura Pokemon stared at the sheet for about twenty seconds in confusion. By the time he looked up, the man had already left. With his mouth now agape and a gasp being let out, Lucario let his field of vision trace around the crowd of the bar. He wasn't able to find the fellow who had made his offer. That unnamed man was long gone from being distinguished in the sea of people occupying the building, and Lucario realized his ability to find him with much more ease too late.

Long after the man had exited and started smoking to relax, Lucario had given up on using his natural vision and sat down on one of the chairs and closed his eyes in deep focus. Slowly, the four black appendages on the back of his head raised up in the air, no longer hanging loose from the mask-like pattern on Lucario's face. The gradually-fading empty feeling in his chest worked against Lucario's 'Aura Vision,' muddying the auras of everyone and making them difficult to discern from one another. However, he picked up a faint trace of an energy similar to the one that handed him the sheet just outside. This aura... I can't focus on it enough... Lucario shook his head and opened his eyes, breaking his focus and causing the appendages on the back of his head to droop down to his shoulders again. With all the weight that he felt on his body, he was unable to tell the intentions of the man- he would have to get answers by talking to him. Still, the man said something about putting his fighting to good use. If this was underground business...

There was an aching in Lucario's stomach, forcing the canine to place a paw to the hurting area. It did not come from hunger; rather, this sensation was more of a caving-in. The guardian of Aura stumbled from his chair and shakily escorted himself outside. "H-Hello?!" He called out in hopes the man could hear him while he pushed his body against the wall to try and support himself.

Mentions:
Mythias Mythias
DapperDogman DapperDogman ​
 
YellowTemperence said:
View attachment 423115

Lucario

Lucario's eyes snapped open this time. His head whipped around for his eyes to meet the man who was handing out a flier. His aura... the canine whispered in his mind. Odd... Lucario gently wiggled out of the hug between him and Aoba to free his arms and take the flier, the shine of a few tears visible in the fur on his cheeks. The Aura Pokemon stared at the sheet for about twenty seconds in confusion. By the time he looked up, the man had already left. With his mouth now agape and a gasp being let out, Lucario let his field of vision trace around the crowd of the bar. He wasn't able to find the fellow who had made his offer. That unnamed man was long gone from being distinguished in the sea of people occupying the building, and Lucario realized his ability to find him with much more ease too late.

Long after the man had exited and started smoking to relax, Lucario had given up on using his natural vision and sat down on one of the chairs and closed his eyes in deep focus. Slowly, the four black appendages on the back of his head raised up in the air, no longer hanging loose from the mask-like pattern on Lucario's face. The gradually-fading empty feeling in his chest worked against Lucario's 'Aura Vision,' muddying the auras of everyone and making them difficult to discern from one another. However, he picked up a faint trace of an energy similar to the one that handed him the sheet just outside. This aura... I can't focus on it enough... Lucario shook his head and opened his eyes, breaking his focus and causing the appendages on the back of his head to droop down to his shoulders again. With all the weight that he felt on his body, he was unable to tell the intentions of the man- he would have to get answers by talking to him. Still, the man said something about putting his fighting to good use. If this was underground business...

There was an aching in Lucario's stomach, forcing the canine to place a paw to the hurting area. It did not come from hunger; rather, this sensation was more of a caving-in. The guardian of Aura stumbled from his chair and shakily escorted himself outside. "H-Hello?!" He called out in hopes the man could hear him while he pushed his body against the wall to try and support himself.

Mentions:
Mythias Mythias
DapperDogman DapperDogman ​
Click to expand...
"Ah. I expected you'd have some questions" the man says, not turning his head, but instead removing the hat he wore, revealing a long pair of ears as he exhales a lungful of smoke and flicks his smoke away "If it's about money, you needn't worry. Our fighters are well taken care of" he says, finally turning to fave the pokemon "And if it's about how I know you can fight, and fight well...Well, it's always been my gift to know all about people"

His eyes seemed more like swirling grey pearls than what you'd normally see resting within a person's head, and it was clear by the way they gave off a sift light, he could see more than most, perhaps it was this ability that let him see the fighting spirit of the pokemon before him. "Those are the usual questions, so if it's not one of those, feel free to ask away. I'm expecting a few others inside to find their way here, so it's of no inconvenience to me"

YellowTemperence YellowTemperence​
 
lucario surprise.png

Lucario

Lucario's red eyes zero in on the man once he starts speaking. Using his shoulder, the Aura Pokemon pushes himself away from the wall and almost loses balance. With a short struggle to keep himself upright while the man talks about how he had expected Lucario to come out and ask some things of him, the canine managed to keep his footing and looked up only to see the man's long ears. The appearance was quite jarring for the blue dog- was this man perhaps not human at all? The statement of "it's always been my gift to know all about people" caused a shiver to run down Lucario's spine. The idea reminded him of his world's Mewtwo- an engineered, psychic weapon of mass destruction that was not meant to be. If this man knew all about Lucario... the pain in the Aura protector's stomach came back even harder. Just what did this guy know?

Lucario would waste no time in vocalizing that as his first question. "What do you know about me? Why did you come up to me and give me this?" The Aura Pokemon waved the still-folded flier out in front of him, his eyes narrowed at the man. There was no way he could use his aura-sensing ability at this moment- there were too many thoughts and questions corrupting Lucario's mind...​
 
efa40bb979021c86d7496cc82ade13e0.png
Maxwell looked at the armor with distaste. Not only did it not look fashionable, it also probably made a lot of noise and he had doubts about it protecting him from the Pit Fiend, as powerful as it sounded. "Thank you..." was all the magician said to Jeanette, as he kept thinking of how the armor might help. He might not even need it if they were to take the diplomatic route.
The magician turned to Shilo with a sly smirk on his face "The dark and shadowy kind that allows me to use the powers of creatures from the abyss... Among other things a spellbook can provide." Maxwell rubbed his chin in thought about how he could be of use "And well of course this magic would be effective against this Pit Fiend or if the diplomatic route is what we're going for I can be quite persuasive to the point that maybe even a creature as fierce as a Pit Fiend might listen to reason." he stated, though his attention turned to the newcomers.
Had being dragged back here by Wulfrik caused some sort of domino effect? What could come next? Now there was a child in some kind of mechanical suit and a woman that was skimpily clad in a bird outfit. Maxwell had seen odder things in his time in The Constant but he felt no sort of hope from more people arriving. While there was strength in numbers it could also increase the chances of someone slipping up and he had no intentions of dying, especially not for someone else. As selfish as the thought was the only reason he'd stuck around was because if he'd try to leave he'd be facing certain death.

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Nightwisher Nightwisher Centurion_ Centurion_ Haz. Haz. marc122 marc122 (ANYONE ELSE >:U)
 
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