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Fantasy New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides

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ERIC EVENSEN
SCENE:
Cleaning Duty
TIME:
Nighttime, February 19th 2022, Post-Arc 2
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Inigo, Eric
CLEANING DUTY
...Well, that certainly was a distraction, alright

By pure reflex, the hostage takers rose his arms at the sight of the incoming crystal shards, a few of them missing, but others stabbing their arms, one spike even managing to lodge itself into one of the takers' side, both of them grunted, looking at their wounds in light panic. The hostages themselves, given their already low position, ducked down even further, safely avoiding the crystal barrage.

"What the? MOTHERFU-" The blonde delinquent raised his gun, aiming towards the Sergeant, but before he was able to pull the trigger, a quick bolt of light hit the man in the hand, causing him to wince in pain and drop his weapon. Eric rushed to the man as the other vandals barely managed to process just what was happening, and delivered a mid-air kick at the man's face, making him fall face up against the floor. With his hands, Eric had been casting a stronger orb of light, however, this one wasn't of an offensive nature.

"Ini, your eyes!" Hoping that was all he needed to say in order to warn his partner, the Detective raised his hands upwards, the orb exploding into a burst of blinding light, bathing the entirety of the club's main room in dazzling radiance. Eric, due to his eyes' remarkable resistance to his own flashbangs, was able to make out the silhouette of the hostage takers. Rushing in, he was able to attack them while they were still occupied by their wounds and flashed eyes. With his energy "sword" he swiped at the criminals, pushing them away, then, as a final effort, he grabbed the confused hostages by the collars of their shirts, and sprinted away towards the entrance.


simj26 simj26
 
MILO NAGISA
SCENE:
Carry On My Wayward Son
LOCATION:
Nighttime, Post-Arc 3, June 25th 2022
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Christina, Hector, Milo
CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON
Milo followed Charlie through the shadowy arteries of the Feralia Art Gallery, his eyes shimmering with anticipation like a kid about to be unleashed in a candy store. Each new room unfolded before him, luring him deeper into a kaleidoscope of creativity. It was overwhelming to try and take in all at once, but in a good way! His heart had always found solace in art, and so stepping into this temple, where every corner whispered stories of passion and defiance, made his spirits soar...

In spite of the company he was forced to keep.

He shot a glance around, wondering where Hector had stalked off to. Luckily, he'd hear him coming before he saw him, by the way he'd been trudging around in here.

As they entered the realm of classical paintings, Milo stumbled upon a landscape that leaped from the canvas, sunlight frolicking across verdant hills. The scene stirred up old memories across the theatre of his mind, the dappled sunlight and the sound of laughter entwined within him. Milo's heart twinged with bittersweet nostalgia, but he pressed on, buoyed by the connection he felt to the artists whose creations lined these halls. In them he found kindred spirits, and a hope to one day be counted among them.

The gallery continued to unfurl, leading Milo by the tip of his illuminated torch from the classical realm to a vibrant chaos of abstract works. Oh, how he wished to come back during the daytime! He found himself stopping in front of one in particular, instantly dumbstruck. Suspended from the ceiling by a thin, almost invisible wire, it appeared to float before him. Comprised of a chaotic arrangement of geographic shapes and organic forms, the piece seemed to invite Milo to try and crack its meaning.

As the gallery's track lighting—some of the few lights that remained on even when the museum was closed—played across its surface, shadows danced within its many crevices and contours. It was an endless, ever-changing dance of light and darkness.

It was maddening. And yet, the more Milo studied it, the more it began to make sense. Patterns and rhythms emerged from out of chaos. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, but—hearing Charlie and company trailing further away—Milo thought it best he moved on. But not before sparing the piece one last, contemplative look.

Milo hurried into the next room. These were the works of a 17th century Fusillian Revivalist. Milo shone his flashlight on the nearest canvas. Charlie and Christina were just beside him, chatting. Absently, and without prompting, Milo started to speak, as if he could no longer keep the words from spilling from behind his lips.

"You see this piece, Charlie? This is an excellent example of classical portraiture."

Milo didn't wait for Charlie to answer. He didn't bother to check if he, or Christina, were even actually listening. He went on.

"Notice the subtle use of chiaroscuro. That's a Fusillian term that refers to the interplay of light and shadow on the subject. It's what makes the portrait feel so... Alive."

Milo swept the torchlight across the canvas, searching hungrily for more to digest. He was talking, now, more to himself than anyone else.

"I mean, just look at the level of detail. You can actually see individual strands of hair. And the intricate patterns on the clothing? This guy was a genius." He breathed a little shakily, his voice full of reverence.

The subject of the portrait was not someone Milo recognized. Probably, he had been some petty lord or duke, or something. At least one thing was certain. In life he had been a generous patron of the arts. And this was his reward: immortality.

"Oh, another thing." Milo adjusted his grip on the flashlight as he leaned in to study the background. "A lot of these were, like, meant as a sort of visual biography. Little details about the subject's life, who they were, what they did, what they were like... Was infused into the piece itself."

Milo picked out everything he could find: an open book and a globe rested on an ornately carved table, a portrait of a landscape in the background, ships, a harbor—perhaps some kind of ship's captain? or navigator—a lute, leaning against the table leg, and lastly, a meticulously painted family crest adorning the upper corner of the portrait. Milo didn't recognize it, but his knowledge of Fusillian Revival history had already stretched beyond its limits by the time Hector stomped onto the scene.

Milo turned, expecting to have the Queen's ire directed his way, for one reason or another. To his surprise, Milo noted that Charlie seemed to be on the receiving end of Hector's barbs. He glanced over, his expression a question, though he said nothing. It was painful remembering that this was a job, not a field-trip.

 
MdLJ4uG.jpg

𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐
𝒜𝓈: 𝒩𝒶𝑜
I am here: Streets of the Northern District
With: Tak
Scene: Getting Bigger Means You Get Worse At Hiding Small Things
Time: Pre Arc 1 || 2021

"When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely"



Naomi couldn't help but laugh at the banana comment from the keeled over man in front of her. It was partially a scoff, a "how could this man talk to me like this," and partially a genuine laugh. "I'm sure you could find one if you tried hard enough," she quipped back, a subtle innuendo that made her inwardly groan as soon as it was out. Stupid cocaine, making her too confident in saying such dumb things. Hopefully he wouldn't catch it. She was already mortified she had said it, although she thought she hid it well. Normally she was better than this! What was it about this man that made her speak like an idiot?

She watched him walk away, still clearly in an immense amount of pain from her attack, and she began to wonder if stupidity was contagious. She chased after him, and couldn't help but laugh again when she saw the light drain out of his eyes at the sound of her voice. Good. She'd annoy the hell out of him until he decided the North wasn't worth it and went back to whichever district he had come from. His head dramatically swiveled to where she was standing, smiling pretty and innocently at him. He looked devastated. But, to Naomi's somewhat surprise, he didn't tell her to buzz off. Instead, he started off on a lecture that made Naomi feel dizzy, like her head was surrounded by stars. A lesson...every day? "Are you the homeless guy?" Naomi quipped, her mouth curled up like a cat's. She didn't think he was some perverted flasher, genuinely, but hanging around in a garbage can had...done him no favors.

She scoffed when he told her that she was asking stupid questions, rolling her eyes and looking the opposite direction, her lips pouty as she crossed her arms in front of her. But he pulled something from his pocket, immediately drawing her attention back. Naomi looked at it for a second. Blinked. Looked at it again. Blinked some more. She looked at his haughty face as he announced he had a map, and blinked some more. The stupid was definitely contagious. There was no doubt in her mind, now. "That...is a child's 'X marks the spot' drawing. Do you even know where you're on in the map? Or what street the X is on?" Naomi asked, reaching for the map with two slender fingers so she could examine it closer, see if she could figure out what streets it was supposed to represent.


((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((Mr. Jones))


thebigfella thebigfella
 
Sang-Cheol Man
SCENE:
The New Oasis Way
LOCATION:
Streets of South District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, August 20th 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Charlie
The New Oasis Way

If it were any one of his workers were here in his place, sans Rebecca, then Charlie might have had a chance. Sang-Cheol didn't say the combination of the two punches, along with the headbutt, caused him to recoil back. For a moment, someone might think that Charlie pulled off a miracle and defeated the Lab Head of Icarus. "If you wanted to kill me. You'll have to try a lot harder than that." With each word, the intensity of anger grew exponentially.

Sang-Cheol had fought all kinds of opponents. One tried to electrocute him, the other controlled the air and sent him crashing into a variety of objects, and another stabbed in thirty times in various locations of his body. Getting punched by a wimp wasn't going to knock him out. And he wasn't going to let the Rookie go. "And if you wanted to kill someone, then allow me to demonstrate!" Grabbing the Rookie's shoulders, the Serpent hardened his stance and delivered of his own. "HAH!" Without relenting, he then pulled Charlie forward and knee him in the sternum.

"And if you wanted to enforce your beliefs onto someone else, then you better have the fucking mettle to do it!" Sometime between their scuffle, Sang-Cheol landed on top of Charlie. His legs prevented Charlie from raising up his arms, and his weight was pressed down onto the Rookie's stomach. One of his fists raised high up in the air. BANG. And then his other fist. BANG! And another. BANG! And another. BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Sang-Cheol lost count of how many times he had beaten down the Rookie. His own fists were starting to grow bloody, and it was hard to tell whether it was his blood or the Phoenix's blood. Regardless, Sang-Cheol didn't stop as one punch after another was thrown down.

 
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Callista Reinhart
Scene:
Shadows On The Line
Time:
Pre Arc 1 - February 2020
Location:
Reinhart Home, South District
Participants:
Callista, Faelan
Shadows On The Line
The blonde heiress woke up in a jolt, gasping for air. It was as if her lungs were on fire. Unwelcome tears streamed down her face, and her body was covered in cold sweat. She'd awoken from the same nightmare that haunted her every night since that day. She could still hear it clearly: the sound of screeching tires, the crunching of metal, the shattering of glass. Memories of that day floated across her vision — so vivid that it seemed just like yesterday — forcing her to relive a moment she tried so hard to forget.

Callista remembered every detail before the crash. The radio had spun a romantic ballad, slow and soothing. The sky took on lovely shades of pink and tangerine as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon. Why? Those had been her father’s last words during the last sunset they shared together, as the light slowly drained away from his eyes.

“B-Because…! her lips quivered as she dug her fingers into the blanket, her voice breaking into choked sobs. “...No one else was coming to save me,” she gasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “I-I had to do it myself!” Callista's eyes were wide and frenzied as she answered the ghost from her past. But the dead could no longer speak. There was only heavy silence, accompanied by the ticking of the clock.

The moon was full, casting an eerie glow in the room and illuminating the shadows on her face. Callista pulled herself out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold tiles. She walked to the window and stared at the dimly lit streets below, trying to distract herself from the guilt that threatened to consume her. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and drag her back into the past. Callista bit her lip and fiddled with the fabric of her night dress, unable to think straight.

As she tried to push images of her wretched father away from her mind, another face resurfaced. The face of a friend—sometimes a lover—whom she’d turned her back on after that fateful day. She owed him an explanation and a heartfelt apology. Yet, the thought of him shunning her and condemning her far outweighed her fear of losing him forever. She was selfish for that. But how could she go on if those emerald eyes ever beheld her with disdain? Pathetic.

Callista held back another wave of tears. There was an ache in her chest, as if a glass shard had been lodged up her heart. It was hard to breathe. Every second felt like she was trapped in a race: the kind where she couldn’t outrun the shadows of her past — one where she couldn’t reach the finish line no matter how hard she tried. Maybe it was time to stop running.

I have to call him… But what would she say to him? Before her courage could wane, Callista grabbed her phone and dialed a number she’d memorized by heart.

ʚɞ ʚɞ ʚɞ
Who knew a knock could sound so daunting? It echoed in the quiet halls, and her heart raced with trepidation. On the other side of the door was Faelan. He always had an air about him, a quiet intensity whenever he was nearby. She could feel it even from behind these large doors. Callista’s hand slowly reached up and hovered close to the doorknob, and she bit her lip as she mustered up courage. Finally, she swung the door open.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him standing there, his face a mixture of sadness, hope, and doubt. It all made her stomach churn. But beyond the fear, she felt comfort. She realized how much she’d missed him, yet she stayed frozen where she stood, her feet glued to the ground, her tongue too stiff to utter a greeting. Callista wanted to seek comfort in the arms of her friend, but how could she? She’d abandoned him and left him alone to deal with his grief. After tonight, she may never see him in these halls again. "...Come in."

Without another word, Callista led him up the grand staircase, then down the large hall that led to her room. This house had been a refuge for Faelan in the past, a second home. Her father had allowed him to visit her any time for it kept her quiet and obedient. It kept her entertained enough to stop asking questions about the world outside of these lonely walls.

Callista had been grateful. She'd been under the impression that her father had gifted her a friend—a sort of luxury one could only have—and the closer they became, the more he leveraged him against her. Do something I don't like, and I take your friend away. Like a bone you'd wave in front of a dog to get it to perform tricks in hopes of a reward; Faelan was the bone, her father was the trainer, and she was the dog.

They reached the door to Callista's room, and she walked through it quietly, leaving it open for him to enter through. When she heard the door shut close, she turned around and looked at him with an expression full of anguish and despair. Dark shadows sat underneath her eyes to show evidence of sleepless nights.

"...I did it," She croaked, wincing as if speaking those words had driven a stake through her heart. "I caused the accident... I killed him." The confession was barely spoken above a whisper, but her words would reach him clearly amidst the deafening silence. Before he could utter a response, Callista closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. A silent plea that seemed to say, 'Don't leave. I'm sorry.'

 
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Callista Reinhart
Scene:
Bleeding Hart
Time:
Pre Arc 1 - March 2020
Location:
Reinhart Home
Participants:
Callista, Ashley
Bleeding Hart
The first rays of sunshine came seeping through the white voile curtains, illuminating the ostentatious room with warm light. Fresh flowers adorned every corner of the room, and elaborate paintings decorated the high walls, depicting flowery landscapes and fair women in silk dresses.

"I can't hang out with you today, Faelan." The blonde maiden held a phone to her ear as she made herself comfortable on a lofty red couch. "Why? That's… Well—" Crimson eyes flitted toward the raven-haired man who was tucked peacefully in a large canopy bed. He had been asleep for many hours, recuperating from a fatal injury. "I'm looking after an injured bird I found after the hurricane. It's a miracle it's still alive, really. I found it in such a terrible—"
There was a knock on the door, and a maid entered the room with a tray of food in her hands. The bowl of hot soup had been remade twice at her behest: the first one had been too salty, and the second one too bland. She only wanted to serve the perfect kind to her guest. "Ah, time for me to feed it. Gotta go!" She chirped, ending the call and dropping her phone beside her on the couch.

The woman rose from her seat and took the tray before dismissing the maid. Then she walked over to the bedside table and set it down gently. On the silver tray were a bowl of chicken soup, a small platter of tomato bruschetta with balsamic glaze, and a few slices of apple. The food's aroma wafted through the air, stimulating the maiden's appetite. She'd have breakfast later, but for now... "Still sleeping?"

She peered down at the man and studied his boyish features. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. The speed of his recovery was remarkable. Color had already returned to his pale face, and the cuts and bruises had nearly faded away completely. She lifted the blanket and examined the bandages wrapped around his torso, and her gaze narrowed at the red stains. They'd have to be replaced soon.

In her peripheral, she noticed the man's face twitch, his jaws tensing. He looked troubled even as he slept, as if he was dreaming of unpleasant memories that ate away at him. It was a feeling she knew all too well shadows of the past haunting the darkest corners of the subconscious. A gentle hand reached out to brush the stray hairs away from his forehead, and the woman whispered gently, "It's time to wake up."

 
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CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
[The Hellion Charge]
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, May 2021
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hide, Charlie
The Hellion Charge
Charlie was admitedly a little taken aback by Hide's explosive reaction, even getting a little startled by the sudden table slam, his shoulders raising by pure instinct. However, his expression was visibly filled with glee as he listened to Hide's response, in fact, were they not sitting on the opposite ends of a table, the rookie would've given him a big hug.

"I'm so glad! I'll be honest, I was a bit worried about you declining, I just know it's gonna go great! I'll make sure to arrange everything and I'll contact you for the time and location for meeting up, oh and after we're done, I can invite you for coffee again next time with the money, my treat!" Charlie continued to enjoy his drink and sweet pastry, his expression a lot more joyful as the worry lifted off his shoulders, then, a moment of pause as a small detail on the job came back to the forefront of his mind.

"By the way...You're not against wearing a suit...right?"


__________________________________________________

Two Days later, 8:45 AM


And so there he stood, Charlie was freshly showered and wearing a brand new suit that he aimed to debut just for this very occasion. He was leaning against a wall, waiting for both his partner and their employer at the arranged spot: The White Peak Central Park, one of the nicer places on the district. The phoenix pulled out his phone, part of him worried about Hide's participation on the job...or rather, his possible lack thereof. The white-and-black haired man was as unpredictable as it gets, even if just last night he still seemed willing to cooperate and join in, there was no guarantee he could just wake up in a bad mood and decide to just ditch the gig. The worst part is that the two-men deal was non-negotiable, he had to show up or else it was all for naught.

There was no way that inviting Hide was a mistake...right?



Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed
 
Sabrina Felton
SCENE:
The Meaning of Music
LOCATION:
North District, Lab Icarus
TIME:
Pre Arc-3 | March 16th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Sabrina
The Meaning of Music

Walking through the opened door, Sabrina followed Sang-Cheol without a word, her eyes occasionally flickering here and there where workers loitered the halls or a particular drug-making tool caught her eye, but, for the most part, she kept them on Sang-Cheol; Getting lost in this maze of a lab didn’t interest her in the least.

As she stepped into the room where the blood drawing would take place, Sabrina took a seat on the gestured stool and started to roll up her sleeves. The sooner they got this done, the sooner she could leave.

She had only gotten the dark fabric up to her elbow when Sang-Cheol started talking. “...what?”

Diagnose? Musician? Devastating?

Was he high on something?

“The fuck are you on about?” Aggressive though her words may be, there was genuine confusion in them as well…at least until Sang-Cheol posed his nonsensical order–a demand to sing. Brows furrowing, Sabrina crossed her arms stubbornly. “Why should I?”

The days where she sang on demand were over.

Music was still something she loved. She still sang for the kids at Blue Hill Orphanage, in seedy bars whenever she needed spare cash, in the privacy of Valerie’s home, etc. Even in one-time gigs like the pre-opening of Yumin’s bloody restaurant - which gave her a big enough payout to last for quite a while. Singing, and making music, wasn’t something she could give up, even within a gang like the Sable Serpents. However, Sabrina had resolved to sing only for herself. To no longer give a damn about anyone else thought about her songs and sing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Sang-Choel telling her to sing, when she saw no reason to be singing, ticked her off and reminded her of dark times - times where she grew to hate the thing she loved.



Misuteeku Misuteeku
 
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CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
[The New Oasis Way]
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, August 20th 2020
LOCATION:
Streets of South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Sang-Cheol
THE NEW OASIS WAY
It was no use, despite his best efforts to retaliate against the serpent, Charlie's blows, despite their seemingly effective damage at first, the enemy was able to shrug them off, keeping his stance, and arguably only making things worse, as it simply arose his ire. The rookie was in a weakened state, the serpent overpowering him not only physically, but mentally as well. From then on, a barrage of strikes were delivered towards Charlie, subsequently pinning him down on the ground, before continuing with the merciless assault. The phoenix raised his arms, attempting to cover his weakest spots against the seemingly endless blows. His arms, sides, stomach, hips, and even his face on occasion where his guard wavered, every inch of his upper half was subject to punches, the metal of the brass knuckles pummeling his progressively softening body.

Once again, he found himself wondering if he was at death's door. His allies were busy taking care of the job, and the enemy in front of him, not only was he an unsurmountable mountain, but also a bloodthirsty beast, unwilling to stop until his prey's heart stopped beating. He was bruised, he was bleeding at a worrying rate,m and all the while it hurt so, so much, undoubtedly the biggest pain he had ever felt in his entire life. He wanted to cry, he wanted to pass out and let the suffering end. As his consciousness started to fade, his vision slowly starting to blur, an image came into his mind. It was the visage of Helva, his sponsor, giving him a pat on the shoulder, it was the the sight of the phoenixes in HQ who warmly welcomed him, even though he had only joined them for a single day. Lastly, there was the image of Seer, nay, Ulysses, the man who, despite his seemingly cold exterior, welcomed the rookie with open arms into his first job, placing a trust in him that Charlie felt unworthy of, especially at this point. He had finally found it, a family that cared for him unconditionally, that supported him and trusted him, feelings that he felt were missing in his heart for what felt like an eternity now.

He had no plans to let some filthy Serpent take away that from him, just as he was finally able to grasp it.

Mustering all of his remaining strength, Charlie was able to lift his leg, sliding it into the small gap between the two's torsos, and alining his foot as well as he managed, he pushed the man back, chucking him backwards several meters. As the weight of the assailant was removed from his chest, as well as the flames quickly dying out, Charlie was able to gasp desperately, grasping for air, a luxury that he was denied of merely seconds ago. He coughed blood between the erratic gasps, and once his lungs were full of dear oxygen, he uncontrollably let out pained cries of agony, unable to resist the overwhelming suffering his body was in.

Things didn't look good for him still, far from it, as not only was the damage from the push almost nonexistent, but in his weakened state, the phoenix wasn't even able to get back up on his feet.



Misuteeku Misuteeku
 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
Carry On My Wayward Son
TIME:
Nighttime, Post-Arc 3, June 25th 2022
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Christina, Hector, Milo
Carry On My Wayward Son
Charlie was glad to hear Christina's optimistic response, not only was it just generally a good thing to see that she was definitely putting in the effort and the attitude towards the job, she definitely didn't seem like the slacker type! But beyond that, it was refreshing to meet a new rookie that was neither a grimacing jerk or an explosive, volatile hothead, she instead seemed, ironically, quite cool and nice!

"That's good to hear! I may hit the coffee vending machine in a couple hours, as for the others, Milo was right behind me just a few moments ago, but I think he got a bit caught up on all the art" He scratched the back of his head as he laughed nervously, his smile disappearing at the reminder of the Queen. "Uhh, I don't know where Pharaoh is...Oh, speak of the devil!" Charlie's glee returned as he caught sight of a returning Milo, one that refrain from pulling any punches, going on a long rambling about the subtle elegance of a specific piece he highlighted. While not really getting what Milo was saying all that much, the blue haired phoenix couldn't help but giggle at his friend's pure and unabashed passion for the craft, even if something like Kyaroskooro completely went over his head "I-I See! That's really interesting...I really like how they drew the eyes" He was probably grasping at straws, but hey, he needed to at least make an effort for his buddy.

Unfortunately, all good moments eventually had to come to an end, as the sound of heavy boots stomping on the floor grew progressively louder, a sign that the man Charlie was the least excited to see had rejoined them. Even after nearly a month from the mission, Charlie was still far from comfortable being near the Queen's presence, and what made things even worse was the words that came out of Hector's mouth, not exactly their message, but rather the tone in which they were delivered, it felt like an oppressive, crushing weight on the rookie's back, his superior was clearly still quite pissed off about having lost their target.

"I-I'm fine, don't worry, these kinds of jobs are my bread and butter, after all!" He tried to mask his nervous disposition with a good dose of manufactured high spirits, even doing his usual flexing pose to go the extra mile, the subtlety of this performance being questionable at best. "Only a few more hours and we should be able to call it a day...err, night...morning?" He shook his head, most people usually don't work this late into the night, so unfortunately common saying like that don't really fit. "I'll probably have a generous breakfast at the nearby cafe once we're out, anyone's more than welcome to join me if you want."

@Infab Elenion Aura Elenion Aura WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Monday Brunch
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | June 5th
LOCATION:
Passeri's Penthouse, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park, Ryutaro Hashimoto
Monday Brunch
Ding. Metal jaws parted, and the pitter-patter of regal footsteps graced her ears.

"Likewise!" With a hop and a skip, took Ryutaro's hand into her own. A smile beamed on her lips. "I've honestly been meaning to make your acquaintance for a while now. I hope the boys downstairs didn't give you too much trouble. They've always been a bit too forward about things." And with good reason. Most of the men who appeared at her building were not, in fact, members of the underworld nobility. There were only so many overzealous fans that the average person could deal with before becoming tired of it all.

"But never mind that! Are you hungry at all? I asked my cook to prepare some snacks for our chat." She returned to her place beside the table, gesturing for Ryutaro to follow. "I haven't had much in the way of anything today, myself, so I hope you won't mind if I take the chance to have a nibble here and there."

Atop the glass tabletop, over a dozen bowls and platters were spread about, each offering some sort of light snack, finger food, dip, or exotic chip. It was far more food than two people would ever need. Louis had gotten carried away. When all of this was said and done, Passeri supposed she'd share it with her snowy-haired contractor, who was resting not far away. She always looked like she could use a bite to eat.

"Take a seat wherever you like. I'd recommend one away from the window, though. The view is... Not what it used to be." Soft, midmorning light washed over the table, pouring in from a vast window which framed a panorama of the city's skyline. It had been beautiful, before its crown jewel had been snatched away. The concrete peaks that once crested the horizon were gone, an oblique reminder of her failures.

"Though I suppose you'll be taking full advantage of that, right? A city in ruins must be fertile soil for the illustrious Hashimoto Real Estate." It reminded her of a forest fire. How new growth would always spring up from the ashes. "That's one of the things I admire about this city, you know? It always bounces back! I doubt anything short of an atomic bomb would be enough to put it down."

"...But that's not why I asked you here today." Passeri took a moment to take a seat along the side of the dining table. "I don't know if it's reached your ears yet, but Isobel is out of the job." She'd been questioning whether or not she wanted to share the piece of information for a while, but ultimately, she doubted it'd be long before the Queen caught wind of it anyway. "And unfortunately, I'm her replacement."

There was a genuine strain in Passeri's voice. She'd already been dancing along the knife's edge, and her change in position had made things ever more complicated.

"So, I'd like for us to figure out where we stand! This is all still quite a shock to me, and I'm sure you of all people can understand, considering how things with Lucy went." She took a vegetable stick from one of the platters, and let it dance between her fingers. "There's really quite a lot going on with our little kitty club, and you know how Markus is, so I'd like to hear your perspective. From one side of the proverbial courtroom to the other... How do you think this kingdom fares?"

joshuadim joshuadim
 
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MARKUS WEISS
SCENE:
Clad in Golden Dreams
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | June 16th, 2022
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Ezra, Viss, Mark, Jess, Hiachi, Tak, Elias, Jesper
CLAD IN GOLDEN DREAMS
As the evening spun along on its predictable axis, something changed. The air in the hall suddenly quivered, time seeming to hang suspended. An inexplicable chill crept along the floor, the ceiling, the walls, a whispered breath of unease that left those gathered shivering beneath their finery. Something momentous was coming, poised on the unseen edge of the horizon, the dark of the moon.

Outside the grand doors, the faint echo of footsteps reverberated. A small army approached. Tension hung in the air, reaching a fevered pitch, an overwrought violin string straining under the burden of potential.

And then, in an instant, the atmosphere shifted again. The wide, ornate double-doors swung open, and Markus and his entourage made their entrance. It was like all the oxygen fled the room, a collective holding of breath.

Pausing on the threshold, the Tiger King cast a long shadow over the grand hall. His eyes, cold as winter, swept the fields of pale, pudgy faces with an air of contempt. Some he recognized. Others were new. But they were all the same. His eyes trailed the rest of the hall, his expression a hard, unbroken line. The glittering chandeliers and gilded decor—the tie like a noose around his neck—did not suit him.

His gaze flicked dismissively over the assemblage, finding nothing of worth in the sea of faces. Without warning, he walked on, his polished shoes stomping across the marble floor, the sound resonating through the hall like a clarion call. His entourage swiftly followed.

They all sported tailored suits and elegant dresses, the fabrics rich and the colors bold. Cufflinks adorned the wrists of their suits, their shirt collars crisp and clean. They wore tasteful jewelry that sparkled in the chandelier light.

But beneath the veneer of sophistication, their true nature poked through. Broad shoulders strained against the confines of suits, while muscled arms flexed beneath the delicate fabric of gowns. Their hands, rough and calloused, looked out of place grasping champagne flutes and dainty hors d'oeuvres.

Scars crisscrossed their cheeks and chins. Eyes darted around the room, vigilant, wary. They prowled the room with purpose, the smooth glide of their steps belying the danger simmering just below the surface.

With purposeful strides, Markus led his entourage across the hall toward a large, empty table, reserved for him and his inner circle. His was a palpable kind of power. It emanated from him as he moved, parting the crowd like a sharp blade through silk. They knew who he was.

Though, his presence was usually felt, not seen. It was usually a ghostly specter, a whisper behind cupped hands and sidelong glances. To see him there, in the flesh, challenged the very delicate balance of their well-ordered lives.

Eyes darted nervously. Murmurs and hushed whispers spread through the room like wildfire. The polished veneer of politeness and etiquette threatened to crack under the weight of his presence. Some shifted uncomfortably, clutching their champagne flutes with white-knuckled fingers, while others averted their gazes, hoping to avoid the piercing glare of the tiger that now prowled among them.

They settled into their seats, a dark spot on the otherwise pristine chessboard before them. Markus sat stone-faced as the Tigers he'd brought along began a low conversation. The rumble of their voices, punctuated by the occasional growl or sharp remark, reverberated throughout the room.

Oblivious to the tension, a young, inexperienced server approached their table, armed with a platter of champagne. He moved from one member of the entourage to the next, his hands trembling slightly as he poured the golden liquid into their glasses. The storm of conversation around him grew quieter, the Tiger King's crew watching the server with a mix of amusement and disdain.

Finally, the server reached Markus himself. But instead of extending his glass, the Tiger King fixed the boy with a silent glare. The server froze, platter of champagne held aloft.

The server's nerve quickly shattered. He stumbled back, nearly spilling the remaining champagne, and quickly retreated from the table, chased by a round of chuckles from the gathered party at the poor boy's expense. Markus didn't laugh. Markus didn't smile. Levity was not a luxury he could often afford.

He was a man who danced with shadows.

In his hand lay the sceptre.

Upon his brow, a crown rested.

He was a King, and this was his kingdom.

Everyone ought do well to remember that fact.

 
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Lin Kairong
SCENE:
St. Steinburg's Maiden Voyage
LOCATION:
Port, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Elias, Zach, Taka, Yushui, Kairong, Hiachi, Tak, Sebastian
St. Steinburg's Maiden Voyage

The sea breeze was, to his old bones, refreshing. It had been long overdue, this vacation of his. He set his little satchel down on the small plastic table beside one of the recliners. WIth a sigh that had been long pent up, he sat himself down, and did as the name of his seat proposed for him. Karin can handle the tea shop in his absence. She had managed to rustle up some of her friends, including that Ottilie girl. He had full confidence in them.

As for the Dragons…he would rather not think of them. They were much better off without an old man weighing them down like this. Furthermore, his life as a member of the gang was far behind him now. His reasons for staying with them had long departed from this world. He leaned back onto the recliner, closing his eyes as he let the clean, untainted breeze wash over his body. He exhaled slowly. Perhaps his children had kept him strung to the gang, and perhaps there was some sense of loyalty that still lingered, but all things must come to an end.

He supposed, as he shifted in his recliner, that the time for it to end was sooner, than later.

He did not know how long he had left, and if he spent it fighting for the people that had already left his life, it would be wasted. He reached into his satchel and pulled out his phone. Thanks to Ruriko and Isaiah, he had gotten slightly better at operating the device. He even managed to create one ‘play list’. It was a list that included his favourite music. Though they came from a time long past, and their singers were now with his wife and his Queen in the afterlife, the songs continued to remain as dulcet memories.

He fiddled with the wires of his ear pieces. It was only polite that he did not ruin the other passengers’ experience with his ancient music. He finally succeeded in peeling the wires out from each other, and placed the pieces in his ears. Slowly, he searched through his phone for the application that had a ‘Play’ button on its icon, and tapped on it. He lay the phone down, and let the music drown out the noise of his fellow passengers.

风也真生气
雨也真生气
气我哪会无志气


He hummed softly to Weng Li-You’s voice. Peace. For once.



 
Kaede Shimokōbe
SCENE:
Get(ting) Help
LOCATION:
South District
TIME:
Post Arc-3; 2 1/2 weeks later
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Hitoshi, Ashley, Charlie, Gideon and Kaede
Get(ting) Help
Was that…a wheelchair? Kaede swallowed the sputters of smoke that threatened to blow her tranquil facade and doubled down with a hand over her mouth. It was not funny. "We haven't met. Gideon Gray, mastermind in training” or at least it wasn’t supposed to be funny. The brunette cleared her throat, but the wheelborne youth was already rolling past her. I guess you could say he was- on a roll today.

It wasn’t funny. “K..Kaede” But it was getting increasingly harder to control the mouth twitches. Fortunately, the server cut into the picture before it could escalate further and the ripples of the events smoothed out to placid calmness. “So. I feel like I’m missing some context here.” She glanced towards the wheelchair that was lifted with ease by Charlie. Right. She had almost forgotten that they were all…not normal. “How did you all become acquainted with Hitoshi?” Kaede would be lying if she said that she wasn’t curious.

They were hardly around the same age, but then again it didn't matter much as long as you could break a leg or two on your target. They were literally criminals after all, and crime doesn't discriminate between its perpetrators.


joshuadim joshuadim Roda the Red Roda the Red Lucem Lucem Coyote Hart Coyote Hart WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten
 
Cleo "PIXEL" Silva
SCENE:
If It Means A Lot To You
TIME:
Arc 3 Aftermath — May 31st, 2022
LOCATION:
Fade's Apartment, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ruriko, Isaiah, Silva (Cameo)
IF IT MEANS A LOT TO YOU
The sound of latches being slid out of place on the other side of the door sparked Silva to straighten up. He couldn’t be seen rugged and worn down. No, he was CLEO SILVA!!

However, just before the door opened, he slumped again, groaning softly as his gaze settled on Ruriko’s face. “Crazy… what ten months of death will do to you,” he muttered, referring to himself and his weakened state following his coma.

“It's okay, I can take over from here.”

Hearing the voice, Silva tensed. An ache ricocheted throughout his body, rattling down to his bones.

As he handed Ruriko over, Fade’s scrutinizing regard behind his mask of calm was easy to spot, “You need medical attention as soon as possible. Do you need help getting somewhere?”

“Hah!” Silva threw his head back, staggering a step, “Fay-hay-de, hombre! If you want more comp’ny, jus’ say so,” laughing some more.

He reached out and slapped a hand down on Fade’s shoulder, taking that as a chance to steady himself, as well, and used his spare hand to point at the bloody mess of his eye, “If this was working, Silva would wink.”

“What exactly happened?” Straight and down to business. Silva grimaced, his guilty conscience leaking out.

“Thank you. Really,” Fade added.

“Uhhhh…”

“If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell me.”

Silva scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, then said, “You know, it’s mostly a b-... -lurrr?... Actually, Silva remembers! The lady con las serpientes! Those little demonios! Yes, if you check hermosa’s wrist,” he pointed at Ruriko, “You will find a little kiss mark~ Probably venom.” Holding his chin, Silva tapped a foot, thinking.

After a moment, he snapped his fingers, a short-lived enthusiasm that quickly dwindled as he spoke, “Aha!!... Uh… By some- uh… way or the other… she might have- uhm… fallen-out-of-the-sky-and-I-landed-on-top-of-her. Anyway, Silva should probly go. Adiós!”

On that note, Silva ran, a goofy waddle and a limp in his step. And that was that.

(Interacting w/ Isaiah, Ruriko)
(Mentioned Ruthe)
Beann Beann Lucem Lucem
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
North Says No!
TIME:
February 5th, 2022
LOCATION:
Redwater High, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park, Eric Evensen
North Says No!
An uncharacteristic silence took Passeri. Usually, she always had something to say. At the very least, some small quip or word of encouragement to remain anchored in a conversation, but as Eric tangled with the drunkard, her words failed her.

"Right..." A low murmur, squeezed out between breaths. That was the most that she could muster, her tongue caught tight by some unidentifiable emotion. It wasn't fear, she knew that much. Fear she knew. It was an old friend, her sole companion on many a night narrated by her parents' screams. Something else had seized her. Shock. Realization. Disappointment. A procession of the three. A full-course meal, courtesy of the North's finest.

Receding from her spot sprawled across the table, Passeri scrutinized the mystery man. She took in the despair in his eyes, the tiredness in his wrinkles. The deep, forlorn huskiness in his voice. It was booze, obviously, that drew the worst out of him, but there was no amount of liquor that could draw out what wasn't already there.

How much did the world have to do to a man for him to shamble into a schoolyard in such a state?

Not even half of what the cesspits of the North had it offer.

"Get back to class." Passeri said, realizing herself, and pushing the feeling of shock down into the pit of her gut. Between swings, she stepped around the pair of men, and cast a barrier between the fight and the children. A gentle, but serious smile returned to her features. It wasn't the time to wonder. She had a part to do here.

"We'll talk again later, okay? Just get somewhere safe for now." Her voice was earnest. This wasn't something that she needed to put on an act for. "Trust me! We've dealt with worse than this!"

 
Ezra Knight
SCENE:
In the Tigers' Web

TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | June 3rd

LOCATION:
Nameless Storefront, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ezra, Dagger, Elias, Jennifer, Passeri
IN THE TIGERS' WEB
As he walked down the strip, scanning the barren storefronts for the location he'd been given, Ezra lazily tossed an empty coffee cup into a nearby bin. Still tasting the bitter remnants that stuck to his tongue and teeth, he took a moment to check his appearance in a grime-covered window. Seeing that his tie was a little loose, he quickly tightened the corporate leash.

Despite the nature of today's job and his recent shift in mentality, a piece of him was still dedicated to looking presentable. He'd already shown the worst sides of himself to those who were supposed to be present, but he couldn't shake it off. One of them was the Jack, after all. The new one.

Looking away from the filthy, chipped reflection, he continued on his way, his mind now filled with thoughts about the upcoming event and the role he was meant to play. He'd already contributed to Jacob Webber's capture, but now he had to assist in extracting the information the man withheld. However, the actual "questioning" would be left to others. He was just here to make sure the prisoner survived the process.

Once again, he was functioning as a human first aid kit. That was the only real value he seemed to have in the Tigers. Even after all this time, the fact that he was just a tool meant to be used by others hadn't changed. What had changed, however, was his willingness to be used. He didn't care anymore. For the first time, he'd be getting something in exchange.

He would be lying if he said he didn't have any qualms about participating in something like torture. Despite steeling himself before arriving, his stomach still churned a bit when he pictured what might happen. But he came regardless. This was something he had to do. It was for the sake of his goal.

While he was concerned about the fate of New Oasis and the people living in it, his reasons for being here were far from noble. They were far more terrible and selfish than a passion to erase the corruption that had embedded itself so deeply into the city. The guilt weighed on him, but it wasn't heavy enough to keep him from moving forward. It had taken him over two decades, but he finally discovered will and desire, concepts that were once foreign to him. He wasn't just going to let them go. So he'd offer Jacob Webber a silent apology and prayer, even if the man didn't deserve them.

At some point during his rumination, his feet had carried him to his destination. The moment he crossed the boundary would be the moment things truly started. To prepare himself for that, he took a deep breath before stepping inside.

It didn't take long for him to discover the basement, as he was guided by the sound of something knocking against metal. That something had been Elias, the fellow rookie who accompanied him and Passeri on the previous mission. Without saying a word, Ezra dipped his head a bit, offering the heir a polite greeting.

Having Elias around was somewhat of a relief. Due to the nature of the man's Potential, there was a chance that the desired information could be obtained without the need for bloodshed. However, that all depended on Passeri. As the current Jack, she was the one who had final say on how things were handled.


 
Sang-Cheol Man
SCENE:
The Meaning of Music
LOCATION:
North District, Lab Icarus
TIME:
Pre Arc-3 | March 16th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Sabrina
The Meaning of Music

Sabrina's sudden shouting made Sang-Cheol flustered. He didn't know why she was yelling when all he did was tell her what he had read from her medical file. If he had been any more awake, Sang-Cheol might have blown up back at Sabrina. Fortunately for the two of them, the exhaustion made Sang-Cheol want to placate instead of escalate the situation. "What are you talking about?" The scientist winced as Sabrina's loud voice echoed in his head. "It says, right here that-" Looking back down at the medical file, he was about to restate what he saw until he squinted closer at the paper.

Occupation: Musician

"Ah..." For a moment, the scientist stood there in silence as he looked down at the paper. He turned away from Sabrina to hide his embarrassment. "My apologies; I misread the file." Goddamit, why did the human body require sleep to function? Sang-Cheol wanted to slap himself for that mistake. Though, curiosity began to emerge from the scientist.

Back when he was younger, he'd often watch T.V. shows at the gas station or outside the electronics store. While he had a T.V. at home, his father often occupied it at all times of the day. What he watched either didn't make sense for a young kid like Sang-Cheol at the time. Back at the topic of the end, he'd often listen to commercials or music. While he liked to hear nice sounds, that was all he heard. A bunch of nice words that were meshed up with a few instruments.

He didn't understand how people could listen to it all day or even have a job that involved music. To Sang-Cheol, Sabrina seemed like a foreign organism to him. Though while he wanted to ask Sabrina about it, he had to be careful. More misword, and Sabrina would show him what a musician was. His head couldn't take another cacophony range of sounds right now.

"So, uh, why did you become a musician?" Sang-Cheol meekly said. Was that good? Was he about to set off some sort of landmine with that kind of question? He was genuinely curious, but to Sabrina, the music seemed to be a touchy subject.


 
Sang-Cheol Man
SCENE:
The New Oasis Way
LOCATION:
Streets of South District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, August 20th 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Charlie
The New Oasis Way

"Kuh!" Despite the beatdown he was giving to the rookie, the Phoenix managed to push him off. It impressed Sang-Cheol a little bit, but he wasn't to validate the rookie just yet. In the end, this was where the rookie was going to die. Sang-Cheol was pretty sure he either cracked or broke a few of the rookie's bones, so he doubted the rookie could escape from their battle. Though as he got up, he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

"Damnit!" Rolling out of the way, a few ether-potentials whizzed where he once stood. His eyes glared at the intruding party of Phoenix that was coming to rescue their little fledgling. With odds like these, it was best to make his escape. Taking out a fresh molotov, he lit the cloth on fire. "If we meet again, I'll make sure to turn you into ash!" He yelled at the rookie. Directing his focus back at the encroaching Phoenixes, he hurled the molotov.

One of the stray attacks hit the molotov mid-air, and it created a wall of fire separating him from them. Getting up from his position, he made a mad dash to exit the scene.

It seemed like whatever was inside the van was able to be retrieved. A tad bit unfortunate and a miscalculation on his part. Still, he succeeded in delaying the Phoenixes from rebuilding their foothold. His own personal goals were achieved. They had managed to acquire Seer, which meant one less name off of his Professor's list. All he needed to do now was process the Phoenix Veteran when he returned to the lab. As a bonus, he managed to teach the rookie a lesson.

Rebecca, Ahri, and Hiroki must have left the area by now. It would be timely if he rejoined them and left the South District altogether. He never really liked being in the South District, to begin with.

 
Boltius "BLITZ" Beckman
SCENE:
Bedlam Blitz!
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 — July 10th, 2021; Early morning
LOCATION:
Whiteleaf, South District; driving...
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Hector, Milo, Yukari, Raquel, Leaf, Zach
BEDLAM BLITZ!
Last night wasn’t the first case since Lyric’s disappearance of ambitious nobodies pussyfooting around Phoenix HQ. In fact, the first instance had occurred last month, then another shortly after.

Together, Hector and Boltius had appointed Phoenixes to sentinel and patrol work to boost HQ invulnerability but, as you can see, their efforts were not all-impenetrable.

Last night might have been the worst occurrence—dare it be said—so far.

Walker, a Veteran Phoenix member, who was stationed to patrol the self-storage yard, during a self-sanctioned smoke break, claimed that he had heard a scream from somewhere in the forest of storage units before the inevitable ambush.

Lucky for him, Pipsqueak, a Rookie Phoenix, happened to be nearby and rushed onto the scene. After gauging the gravity of the situation, Pipsqueak released his Locative Whistle which immediately alerted every Phoenix within 500-ft to his exact location. And like zombies to a car-alarm in every stereotypical portrayal of the flesh-eating undead, Phoenixes streamed into the storage yard from all angles to defend their territory and comrades.

Safe to say, it was an easy triumph, but it turned out to be a ruse.

While a portion of Phoenixes were defending what they thought to be the only threat at the time, Shady’s Clinic—where the resting Queen, Reika, was being kept—was under full-blown attack.

Boltius and the other storage-yard defenders were unaware until, halfway to Shady’s to get Walker the medical attention he desperately required, people’s phones started blowing up like New Years. Shady’s is under attack!They’re after Reika!The Queen’s location has been compromised!

HQ was in disarray. But…

After a fierce and bloody affray, the Phoenixes succeeded in protecting the clinic. Some of their enemies escaped, but they managed to secure a hostage whom Veteran Phoenix Raquel, aka. The Gourmet, took to seclusion for questioning. Meanwhile, Boltius and Hector gathered a crew, others got to cleaning up the aftermath of their battle’s wake, and Doctor Slim began prepping Reika for relocation.

Now, the question everyone’s asking themselves is… How did they know where to find her?

It wasn’t like members of the Phoenixes danced around shouting Reika’s whereabouts for all to hear. And if there was someone like that… they had better hope no one finds out.

— — —​

Boltius ran a hand down his face and rolled his tired eyes, turning left at the stoplight.

They had stayed up late after everything, awaiting the details of Raquel’s interrogation, and even later after that. Apparently their captive didn’t have much to say. He was limited in what he knew of the organization he worked for. Either that, or he was damned loyal up until the moment he’d lost too much blood to give an intelligible response.

The most they got was something about a place called Echo Whisper Pointe, of which a quick internet search directed them to a plot of fifteen acre farmland located just on the edge of Whitepeak, which is where they were headed now.

A bump in the road rattled the car to its very core.

“Piece of shit,” Boltius eyed the check-engine light. The radio changed channels on its own and he slapped it real hard. Being an old cheapjack that his dad bought him when he was fifteen, there was no aux port and the seatbelts were all but gone, save the driver’s, ripped out by the shady asshole who sold it to him years prior to the transaction.

“Yo, 's anyone got any questions 'fore we get there? Piss breaks? Coffee break? We're parkin' at a little spot right by the farm. The rest goes from there, so speak now or forever hold your... uh... Is it 'peace' as in... peaceful? Or is it 'piece' like a piece of pizza?” Boltius eyed those in the backseat through the rear-view mirror, sparing a quick glance at the one in the passenger seat, before returning his eyes to the road.
BOLTIUS NOTES​
— —POST RECAP: Boltius is driving to Echo Whisper Pointe. The car he is driving only seats four passengers.

— —TEMPERATURE: Neutral

— —TATTOO: (Click Here)

— —WEARING: (Click Here)

(Interacting w/ Milo, Hector, Leaf, Yukari, Zach, Raquel)
(Mentioned no one)

Elenion Aura Elenion Aura WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten Misuteeku Misuteeku QuirkyAngel QuirkyAngel Astrylan Astrylan Haze- Haze-
 
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VULKEN BECKMAN
SCENE:
Playground Affairs
LOCATION:
South District, Playground
TIME:
May 24th, 2008
PARTICIPANTS:
Kaede, Boltius
CURRENT STAGE:
0 (Current Temp: Regular)
PLAYGROUND AFFAIRS

Vulken couldn’t do anything but sigh.

Today was supposed to be easy– meet his little runt brother at the park, take him to do some potential-control training, and go home to call YY and beg her to give him the answers to their math homework that was due tomorrow.

But, as soon as he stepped foot outside, he was violently attacked by his dark-haired, extremely attractive senior. Honestly, he couldn’t complain.

And so, he gained a new member in his party, and they embarked on their journey to the playground hand-in-hand (he wished).

To be honest, Vulken had never planned for Boltius to meet so many gang-affiliated people. Ass-whoopings aside, he really did love and care for his brother– and he didn’t want the little shit getting any ideas when it came to the Phoenixes. He needed to stay his ass in school and go be a doctor or whatever the hell he wanted to be, or their mom would probably cry.

He couldn’t help but flash a stupid grin as Kaede teased Bolt. Seeing him get angry over nothing was something he’d never get tired of. That was, until he started complaining and being rude. Immediately, he lifted a fist and gently but sternly planted it on the top of his brother’s head.

Oi,” The short-haired redhead started, pushing his knuckles into his head to make sure his message was being sent. “Might as well call her big sis, since I only ever hear you talk ‘ta Ash like that.

His fist loosened into an open palm, and he rubbed the shorter boy’s citrus hair, demolishing whatever styling he may or may not have done to it. “Y’dont talk ‘ta girls like that, dimwit. Or else you’ll never get a girlfriend.

His orange eyes shifted over to Kaede, and he grinned, taking his hand off of his brother’s head and reaching over to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer. With that same stupid look on his face, he spoke again.

Speakin’ of which. Boltius, Kaede here’s my girlfriend, so you gotta be nice or I’ll kick ‘yer pale little ass. Say hi.


Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean Sei Shonagon Sei Shonagon
 
RYUTARO HASHIMOTO
CS Link
SCENE:
Monday Brunch
LOCATION:
Passeri's Penthouse, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ryutaro, Passeri
MONDAY BRUNCH

Ryu followed Passeri's lead towards the table, taking a seat near where she would take while remaining silent as she barraged him with plenty of questions and conversational bits. A few praises here and there about himself and his company were placed strategically, though Ryu didn't particularly give a response and instead only nodded as she went along with her words. The new Jack had not invited him here for pleasentries, however, as it became apparent that she wished to know him better as Queen. Particularly on the state of the Tigers as a whole - was she scoping him out? After all, she did now work for Markus.

Ryu tilted his head before giving a soft smile. "Yes, Lucy's departure was incredibly abrupt. I was taken off guard myself. And now Isobel as well." Ryu mused aloud as he picked at a grape on one of the platters nearby and twirled it in between his fingers. "A change in leadership happens, as is the course of things. But to this extent, its a signal to our rivals and not one that bodes well. "

He popped the fruit into his mouth and chewed, allowing the juices to flow inside before quickly gulping it down. "You're right about real estate. I took care of the issue on that end - G&G withdrew from New Oasis entirely, which left me as the only possible recipient with enough manpower and capital to take on a government contract for rebuilding Central." He left out the mention of his own person acquisitions he had extorted from the two Gordons, as he considered that his own positional play that needn't be revealed for the time being. "The Tigers can expect that front of business to continue unhindered for many years to come. But,"

Ryu tapped his knuckles on the table as he leaned forward closer to Passeri. "Our other venues came under assault. Our major casino was put under siege by the Phoenixes," he spoke, the mention of the southern Gang being laced with a distinct venom, "And one of our own was nearly taken from our own territory. Such a transgression, so blatant, onto our turf... and where was Markus?"

Ryu turned his head towards the window and looked at the distant ruins of Central, "Gallivanting and getting into shit when he was needed here."

The Queen turned his attention back to Passeri and frowned: "So you tell me, how fares our situation, when there is a King who fails to do his duty? Who fails to resolve the very real problems set out before us? Who holds power but without meaning or purpose? Like a petulant child who can't grasp the big picture."


The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
Raquel Filo
SCENE:
Bedlam Blitz
LOCATION:
Whiteleaf, South District; driving...
Time:
Post-Arc 3 — July 10th, 2021; Early morning
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Hector, Milo, Yukari, Raquel, Leaf, Zach
Bedlam Blitz

To say that Raquel was having one of her mood swings was a bit of an understatement. She was rolling down a rainbow of emotions. Raquel wanted to kill, yet she wanted to cry; she wanted to leap with joy, yet she wanted nothing more than to sleep. There was one constant in this surge of emotions. She was infuriated most of all. "How about I take a piece out of you, Bolt." Her voice growled into the phone. Though her facial expression softened and her tone became weaker, "Sorry about that. I'm a little sensitive, aren't we all, but I'd have to pass on the pizza if we do get one."

Raquel was currently riding a motorcycle. Not everyone could fit in Boltius's car, so she opted to ride on her own. Given the state she was in, it was probably preferable that way. A combination of lack of sleep and continuous hunger made her quite volatile, so this was probably the best option for all of them. However, the need to wear a helmet was most awful. It didn't add much fashion to a lady like herself.

" I am sorry to say that I couldn't get that much out of that traitor. It seemed like he knew much at all" Memories of the interrogation filtered through her head. Ozma and Weiyuan had come to assist her with extracting information out of the Phoenix. Though they tried a variety of torture techniques, such as having him step on a bunch of nails, disabling his senses, and Gideon's classic Mountain Dew waterboard, they weren't able to crack the nutcase. "Though don't worry about him. He won't be able to walk anytime soon. Additionally, Weiyuan is leaving him out to dry right now. Isn't that nice?" Oh man, she wondered what Weiyuan was going to cook her for this time.

She hit the brakes, and the motorcycle hit a halt. "I'm nearing the location, and I gotta say the area around it isn't too bad." A bubbly tone from the cannibal herself. She needed to wait for Hector and the others to arrive, so they could commence the mission. "Though, I think it could use a bit of red. Don't you agree?" Her stomach growled at the mention of the color. Oh, how she couldn't wait to eat.


Elenion Aura Elenion Aura Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten QuirkyAngel QuirkyAngel Astrylan Astrylan Haze- Haze-
 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
Back in the Game
TIME:
Post Arc-3; July 5
LOCATION:
Boustan [A metropolis about a four hour drive from New Oasis]
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie, Milo
BACK IN THE GAME

The night prior, Hitoshi had scored what looked to be an easy gig thanks to one of his contacts. A protection job for some big wig corpo's kid - what could go wrong? He even managed to get both Charlie and Milo on board impromptu, with the three splitting the cash they get in equal parts from this. After all, three guards was better than two or even one. Plus, he wanted field work with others rather than solo; it made things more bearable when being on the clock.

In a rental car somewhat past its prime, Hitoshi drove the trio on the highway towards the bustling coastal metropolis of Boustan, which seemed like a paradise on the surface in comparison to the devastation and chaos of New Oasis. Central was still in ruins, with reconstruction efforts only just having started, and its effects felt far and wide even outside the city as a news report on an electronic billboard at the city center reporting on the ongoing efforts to rebuild New Oasis.

Life here was normal as the city hustle and bustle raged around, with cars honking and businesses selling their commodities en masse to the brouder public, both local and tourist alike. After having called New Oasis his home for practically his whole life, Hitoshi couldn't help but expect some violent explosion to be heard in the off distance. Or some street fighting to break out... but this place wasn't that.

Ultimately, that wasn't on the forefront for Hitoshi as he sat on the hood of his rental car out in front of a high end apartment skyrise. Just by appearance alone it was fancy enough that made Hitoshi, and by extension Charlie and Milo, stick out like sore thumbs; shmucks out on the street compared to the insanely wealthy people who lived here, judging by appearances of the people who entered and exited the building and gave strange looks to the trio when their attentions trailed to them briefly.

Their watches alone cost more than the rental's value, which made Hitoshi laugh aloud nervously. And that was not even mentioning the rest of their outfits, which dwarfed any amount of money he had ever made ever likely. "I uh... didn't think we'd be dealing with corpo *royalty*." he commented to Milo and Charlie before looking down at his phone to tell the time. 10:30 in the morning, which meant they have been waiting here for a half hour already. "Jeez... they're really taking their sweet time getting down here."

He then turned back to Charlie and Milo: "Alright so, I guess we can go over the details again. The issuer said to just take their kid around the city, wherever they wanted. Don't let them out of sight. Easy peasy, bring 'em back here by 11pm. Get this out of the way, and we got ourselves an easy score. Any questions?"


Roda the Red Roda the Red Elenion Aura Elenion Aura
 
BASH HIRABAYASHI
SCENE:
I Prefer Water
LOCATION:
North District, Mysterious Black Site
TIME:
Post Arc-3 | Chapter 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Teddie
✕ POTENTIALS BANNED:
None
I PREFER WATER

Fucking IDIOTS.

Bash was furious. He’d gotten too comfortable. Trusted too much. Now, he sat in Sang-Cheol’s car with a crown he’d always wanted– but not this way.

The car was silent, but his thoughts were ear-piercing as they violently pounded within his head. He’d lost another sibling. Another person he cared deeply for was ripped out of his fucking hands. His scowl was fierce– possibly fiercer than it had ever been before. He was tired of it.

But, just like with his sister, he would get Snake back. He knew he would. He’d return the crown and take it back when he was ready. But, for now, all he could do was try to help Sang-Cheol (who was more competent– but he’d never admit it to that four-eyed fuck) get a lead.

He glanced over to the two who were in the car with him. Four-eyes he could understand, sure– but that freak Tar fuck… Why the hell was he there? He’d been in the gang longer than Bash, but they were always one of the ones he avoided (can’t ban the potential of someone you can’t touch, after all). Plus, he was batshit insane, as far as Bash knew. His golden gaze hardened into a sharp glare. What the hell did they plan on getting out of this?

He’d have to keep a close eye on him. He was the ‘Queen’ now, after all.

As soon as he heard the ‘click’ of the car door unlocking, Bash was out. He hated cars’ after all. If he’d thought about it sooner, he would have just followed the nerd on his bike. He passively listened to his fellow Serpent’s instructions while he stomped towards the place where all this bullshit went down.

Yeah, I gotta good nose, so I should be able ‘ta sniff Snake out. As for you…

His head turned back, eyes glaring daggers at the dark-skinned Serpent behind him.

Ya better not try nothin’ stupid, or I’ll fuckin’ kill ya. I know how ya are.


Misuteeku Misuteeku WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten
 

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