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

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Isobel Pham
SCENE:
July 2019 | Pre-Arc 1 [Coffee's On Me]
LOCATION:
Tigers' HQ, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Matsuda, Isobel
Coffee's On Me
Isobel took no notice of any of the compliments Matsuda had peppered through his speech. All she could think about while listening to him ramble on was how much of an idiot this man was. Arguably, a rather adorable one - the same way you might look at a puppy who has just tripped over its own tail and think it was adorable - but still very much an idiot.

When he started giggling to himself again, Isobel rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him. Nevermind. She'd done what she'd set out to do and as far as she could tell, Matsuda seemed perfectly fine. Evidently, she had been overthinking the situation. Still, as she tried to walk away, she found herself hesitating as if there was something holding her back.

Holding a fist to her chest she drew a slow circular motion. I'm sorry. What she was sorry for she wasn't entirely sure. Was it a gesture of sympathy, empathy, or guilt? She thought back to the day the collectors had shown up at her desk looking for the older Russo. She didn't even think twice about it when she handed his location over to them. It wasn't until later when she heard about what had transpired that she realized the role she might have played. The lines between the three were so grey sometimes it was hard to distinguish one from the other. She didn't even think he understood what she'd signed but that was okay. He didn't need to understand.

She did however want him to understand the next things she had to say. Taking out her phone she began rapidly typing a message out on it before showing it to Matsuda. Barely readable on her horribly cracked phone screen were three short sentences:

Always watch your back.
Don't get on Markus' bad side.
Call Lost & Found if you need help.​


@Caffeine_Obsessed
 
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Jacob Weber
SCENE:
June 3, 2022 | Post-Arc 3 [In the Tiger's Web]
LOCATION:
Nameless Storefront, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Dagger, Elias, Ezra, Jennifer
In the Tiger's Web
As this entire debacle was taking place before him, Jacob Weber felt... not much of anything really. Because you see, Jacob Weber is a cool guy and a professional criminal who has done and seen many many terrible and surprising things in his long-ish life. Longer than most people might expect just looking at his appearance. Even when he found himself trapped under a pile of vicious phantom wolves, he does not evidence a modicum of surprise. What an absolute champ. Honestly, the most surprising thing in this situation was perhaps Jennifer coming to his aid. Before today, he was certain his daughter had forgone her family entirely for that blue-streaked punk and yet here they were. What an oddly delightful turn of events.

Low in his throat, he felt a chuckle bubble up. "Let the princess go, dear. We've got what we asked for and they have all the information I can possibly give." He glanced up at the Yumin heir from his awkward position on the floor. He knew what Elias was capable of. The Stewards all did. It was easy to figure out once you took a step back and looked at the big picture. It also helped that they had eyes everywhere.

"You know, you could have just asked. No need for all the dramatics." He continued breezily. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm quite sensitive to mutts."


The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit simj26 simj26 QuirkyAngel QuirkyAngel Lucem Lucem
 
Bushineko (NPC)
CS Link
SCENE:
Why Do House Cats Sharpen Their Claws?
LOCATION:
Central District, Grubtopia Grocery Store
TIME:
June 10th, 2022 | | Post-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
Why Do House Cats Sharpen Their Claws?

Tall buildings set to crumble underneath their weight as their foundations had been rocked to their very core. Muddied water seeped through the ground, oozing out of cracks in the ground and flooding the streets from busted pipes. Piles of rubble decorated the streets, abruptly cutting off sidewalks, amalgamations of glass, stone, and iron.

An earthquake that had ripped through the concrete jungle, tearing at it from the seams had clear effects. Its operations were disrupted, and daily life had been distorted. The streets were empty, hauntingly so, as many had retreated to find shelter elsewhere. The only signs of people at all were the bright colors of green, orange, and yellow that made up the various construction efforts. Cranes rose high above toppled buildings carrying heavy payloads, as men and women in bright green vests wheeled around materials for repair, traffic cones and signs guiding their way. An effort was being made to repair what had been lost, but there’s no telling how long it would take for any sense of normalcy to come back to Central.

In times like this, people find themselves dripping to some semblance of light. Like moths lost in the darkness. A taste of hope, and positivity, no matter how small, could be just what they needed to flap their wings a bit longer through the night.

For one reason in particular, the moths found themselves drifting towards a dimly lit sign, a few of its letters missing or entirely broken from the destruction of the earthquake. Luckily its identity was so well known, the sign was an afterthought. Its massive parking lot has suffered damage, creases, and crevices formed in the asphalt, but the large building in the center still stood proud, a pillar of importance, one thing that no one could live without,

A supermarket!

Grubtopia, a massive market that prided itself on its large selection and cheap prices. Every day, thousands of people relied on its doors opening to get their food for the day. Even after the earthquake, they shut their doors only for a short while before opening back up again, figuring out a way to secure deliveries through the massive amount of catastrophe. Their sales might not be doing as well, but their public image has increased tenfold. Still, they needed some way to attract more customers after the disaster.

So, the CEO of Grubtopia made a phone call.

Now, their store was packed full of customers, all the attention they wanted. But they didn’t come here to cross off a grocery list, their intentions were much different. You could get the faintest idea from the merchandise many of them had come in wearing.

“I can’t believe they’re bringing it back! I never thought I’d get to taste it again!”

“I haven’t had it since I was a child…”
“As if! It wasn’t that long ago, Dad!”

“She’s coming here in our time of need! She is an angel sent to Earth!”

The numerous murmurs and shouts resonated through the cramped store aisles, the crowds moving like a wave as they all tried to make their way toward the back of the store, where they could witness their dreams come true.

The return of the beloved limited edition cereal from Our☆Dream Entertainment, Iroi’s, Petal Pieces™!

And not just the cereal, either! The famous idol herself was here to sign for the first people to get the boxes in stores. Truly, in this time of need, she was the bright star that everyone needed!

“Heheheh. If I get a box signed, I’m gonna be able to sell it for loads of money, right? They’re probably gonna pull this stuff from the shelves again shortly anyway.” The sly murmurs of a specific individual brought the focus on him, arms crossed as he leaned against the donut display in the bakeshop section, he wore a messy tank top with jeans, a scar going over his face and breaking up the stubble he had above his lips.

“Yeah, all the fans of that lady ain’t nothin’ but suckers. She’s just a dried-up hag thinkin’ she’s still in her glory days.” Another man bitterly added he was more occupied in peering through the cake display, leaning forward to get a good look as he scratched at his cornrows while his other hand was in his baggy sweatpants.

His partner looked up toward the ceiling, a faint chuckle paired with the smirk that came across his lips in response to the comment, “Heh, you ain’t wrong about that. I don’t get how people can still swarm to whatever dumb shit she puts on.”

“You insolent curs! You have the gall to talk about Iroi-sama in such a way-zarunyan!?”

A sudden, high-pitched voice caused both men to raise their heads, scowls immediately gracing their faces as they glared forward at where the voice came from.

“Haaaahhh!?” They spat out in typical thuggish fashion, but their expressions flattened when they realized that there was no one standing there. They glanced at each other in confusion, a “Are we hearing things” look as they both awkwardly scratched the back of their necks.

“I know you heard me, knaves! Now face me like men!”

There was that voice again! So, they weren’t hearing things. They looked back in front of them before their heads and eyes slowly trailed downward to the ground. The beginnings of who was so bold to shout at them came into view.

Cat ears twitched above his turquoise helmet, a hilted katana sat tied around his hip, and his twin tails flicked from behind, raised proudly. It stared up at both of them with slitted eyes, its fluffy paws crossed.

“I am a merciful warrior. So I will give you one last chance to apologize-zarunyan.” The creature threatened through its sharpened teeth, its shiny eyes glaring at the men. They stared silently for a moment, taking in what they were looking at…

“PFFFF! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!”

Before they both burst out in laughter, clutching their stomachs as the guffaws came right from their gut. When they finally were able to get enough of a handle on themselves, they leaned down with tears still in the corner of their eyes, meeting eye-to-eye with the tiny creature.

“What the hell is this thing? Some kinda toy?” The scarred man quipped, poking the cat samurai on the forehead, making it furrow its brow.

“No toy talks like that, idiot! It’s gotta be someone’s kid in a costume! Probably some guy trying to impress their favorite idol by showing off their cute kid! Get a popular photo op and all that!” The man with the cornrows reasoned, dismissing the idea of a living toy entirely.

Both men rose back up straight, looking down at the Playmate with a cocky sneer, “Well, whatever it is. I guess I should teach it a lesson, huh?!” The scarred grunt sneered, and like a soccer ball player twisted his upper body to the side while his leg twisted backward in preparation for a kick.

“Take this, you shrimp! ORAAAAAHHHH!” He roared, as his leg shot forward, being trailed by a gust of wind and thick lines of shading tracing its motion as it approached the small shogun’s face. Every moment it got closer, it seemed that he was about to get punted right into the stratosphere, but as the foot seemed to make contact, all it felt was air as the creature’s whole body turned into a blur of afterimages before disappearing.

“Huh!?” Both thugs sputtered, watching the thing disappear in front of their very eyes. But before they could even question where it went, the sounds of footsteps behind them made their heads snap rearward.

With his back facing towards him, paws gripped tightly to the grip of his blade as it peeked out of its sheath, the glimmering sheen of the blade indicating its sharpness.

“You both lack the discipline to take me on-zarunyan.” He whispered, sliding his blade back into place with an audible click.

Instantly in an explosion of fabric and fibers, both men's pants tattered into bits, flying in every direction as they could only look down in horror as their underpants were exposed for all to see. The screams they uttered instantly caught the attention of many in the crowd, a series of fingers pointing and laughing at them.

“Woah, those guys are walking around without any pants!”

“It’s a pair of perverts! Make sure they don’t get close to Iroi!”

“Oh man, this is going on my page! Hahaha!”

“Damn!” The man in cornrows cursed, before both he and his partner turned to run away, leaving a cloud of dust behind in their sudden dash, “We won’t forget this!” They both shouted behind them as they rounded the corner.

Watching them leave, Bushineko only shook his head in disappointment, “I let myself be held up by those two-zarunyan. At this rate, I’ll be too late to get what I came for.” He scoffed, turning away to focus back on what he came for in the first place. His feet squeaked cutely as he walked away, a determined glare on his face as he walked toward the back of the store.

“No matter what…I will get my box of signed Petal Pieces from Iroi-sama!”


 
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Takahiro Sugita
CS Link
SCENE:
Post Arc-3|| Confidential Motivations
LOCATION:
North District, Taka's Apartment
DATE:
July 1st, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Takahiro, Peyton ( Coyote Hart Coyote Hart )
Confidential Motivations
The thought of intentionally making Raph jealous was something he couldn't do. Despite the toughness and rather indifference Raph showed towards him, Taka still liked him a considerable amount. Raph was always dwelling in the back of his mind, for better or worse. Before Taka could open his mouth to voice his protest, Peyton had taken control of the situation. His face turned a few shades brighter as Peyton lifted his shirt. Taka visibly winced as Peyton dug his teeth into him, though he was used to this type of rough play. He was prepared to let Peyton do what he wanted with him. It didn't take long for Peyton to venture to other areas, Taka enjoying every bit of it. "Oh my..."

Taka didn't plan on getting frisky today, but you couldn't always plan those things out. Despite their differences, he found Peyton to be a pleasurable person to be around, especially since Peyton had no issue in indulging in those pleasures. After the pleasant experience had finished, he sat up on the couch, slipping on his pants as he prepared to get up. Taka grabbed a pack of cigarettes that was laying on the coffee table, fishing in his pocket for the lighter. He tossed the pack back onto the table once he retrieved one, lighting the smoke. He took in a deep breath, letting out a swath of smoke. He made sure to let it out away from Peyton, he didn't know how comfortable he was with smoke. "I'll be right back, just gonna take another bump darling."

He got up from the couch, cigarette dangling from his lips. The pouch of snow that he had on him was empty, so he needed to fish around for some more. Luckily, he kept it all in the same drawer. Taka pulled open a drawer, grabbing another small bag of the white powder. He poured a line onto the counter, putting the bag back into the drawer before snorting it. His eyes lit up again, enjoying the high the drug was giving him. After taking another drag from his cigarette, he plopped himself down next to Peyton. Taka played around with Peyton's hair with his freehand, holding his smoke in the other. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. You are definitely one of my favorites, I may have to keep you around." He gave him a bright smile, bringing his smoke to his mouth to take another hit.

Now that Taka had a few moments to sit, he was able to convey a few thoughts that he had on his mind. "I know that you're really into Raph, I am too. I don't want that to push us apart. Not many people are nice to me... you are one of those people. I know that I'm attracted to malicious types of people but that doesn't mean I want to be around them all the time. I hope that you want to spend more time with me in the future." Taka didn't want Peyton to hold any contempt against him. He didn't have a long list of friends. That's why he didn't want Peyton to dislike him, he was always afraid of losing friends.
 
ERIC EVENSEN
CS Link
SCENE:
Cleaning Duty
TIME:
Nighttime, February 19th 2022, Post-Arc 2
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Inigo, Eric
CLEANING DUTY
Eric took on a defensive stance as the woman approached, lunging at him with her blade thrused forward. Her technique was nothing short of atrocious, big windup as well as leaving the rest of her body completely exposed, only putting any sort of attention in her simplistic attack. Eric easily dodged to the side, leaning his torso to the left. Overshooting her clumsy attack, the woman's arm went past Eric, allowing the detective an easy chance to grab a hold of her wrist. With his free hand, he thrust his palm upwards, hitting the back of her arm. The ugly sound of an arm breaking could be heard as her arm bent on the opposite way, a loud cry of pain was let out instantly after. Still keeping a hold of her broken arm, Eric pulled her close as he delivered a haymaker to her face, the impact's momentum slightly increased by light that emanaged from his fist. The woman fell to the ground, consciousness leaving her shortly after.

"It's okay, no biggie" Said Eric in response to his partner's debatably serious question. His shrugging motion interrupted by a new stream of bullets raining down on the two. Instinctively, the detective performed a tactical roll to the side, seeking cover behind a solid pillar. It may be true that the bullets weren't such a big deal, especially with their relatively small calibers, but they still hurt, you know? Also it was never a good idea to just let his suit get riddled with holes, or else he would have to listen to Chikage giving him a speech on proper care and etiquette and blah blah blah.

"Actually, fried spam's on me if you help me put the kids to bed" The Detective's hands glowed with radiance once more as he leaned over, taking a quick glance at the remaining foes. Itt seems there was only around six or seven of them, and judging by their over-reliance of their firepower, one could assume they were most likely NPs.

"I expect a fancy follow up, alright?" said Eric as he went on the offence once more, joining his hands together and thrusting them forward, summoning three large arrows of light, swiftly soaring through the air in a slight arc, hitting some of the criminals with refrained force.


simj26 simj26
 
Dante Aguilar
CS Link
SCENE:
B T S I T R U M Y M T O
TIME:
April 19th, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
LOCATION:
A Bar in Central District
INTERACTIONS:
Tak ( thebigfella thebigfella ), Hiachi ( miki miki ), Dante
Being The Smartest In The Room Usually Means You're Missing The Obvious

Neon lights hung and flicked a hum-buzz somewhere along the ceiling; decadent, it filled the air nicely, mixed in with the androgynous chatter going around. As he usually would, Dante found himself sitting on his own at one of the dim corners.

No hum-buzz, hollowing silence. Back angled, straight at a wall. Elbows propped on the worn, weathered oak countertop with all the scratches and aged aromas of cheap alcohol deep-rooted like they were a part of it. A mix of that and the ever-slightest scent of coffee intermingling somewhere in there.

He’d been scratching at the label of a plain beer bottle for a while now; just waiting.

Unlike his usual self, Dante had different airs about him tonight. He wasn’t the tall, pale man with the bright golden eyes creeping in the dark. Tonight, he was just the quiet figure of the bunch, fading into existence out the corner of your eye; maybe after a long day at work, maybe after a sleepless night— no one knew, no one would know.

And that’s what he liked about places like these. There was a silent understanding between the crowd, a fleeting connection, he could just come here and un-exist for the night. Transient. Passive. Observant. It was always quieter than the usual — “…” — And quiet was nice for a change, nicer than he thought it’d be.

Being alone and in company at a crowded place was a paradox in of itself. Not that such a soppy, nerdy introspection was something a guy like him would hang on. Nah, he wasn’t the one to put much thought into it. Why he felt a pull from spots like these? He just felt it, deep like a stab wound. Simple as.

“Fuck’s this guy at…?” — He sighed, finally taking a swig out of the bottle he’d been molesting this whole time, bringing the phone out of his pocket and re-reading the message Tak had sent him.

He didn’t know when he’d started to look forward to Tak’s sudden hangouts, but now he had an idiot smile every time he’d get a message from him. It was disgusting, really. Dante was chalking it up to taking Tak as a quick detox, out of sheer force of impulse, maybe. The guy was fun to hang around after all.

Hell, he was even starting to be mindful enough to invite him at night. That, or it was just coincidence.

Either way, it was nice.

This time around, it seemed way too quiet, way too simple. Too good to be true when you had experience hanging around Tak; Dante was half-expecting all of these bar-goers to be trained assassins; there was always a twist. A twist that felt like a brainfuck and a half.

Maybe that one guy at the corner of the bar with the slight cross-eye and the big ass nose was one of the assassins… Maybe he had a potential that could suck up all the oxygen around him just on one whiff out of that mutant nose.

That’s the thing, he didn’t know.

It sure as hell wouldn’t take him by surprise this time around. The charm was starting to wear on him, he figured. For now, though, he’d wait and see.

And wait and see he did.

The crowd poured their spirits, their libations. Some lone figures waved and shifted on their seats, looking about as bored as he was. Others formed a sea of strangers, smudged silhouettes. Long shadows under the neon light—budding shoulders out of it. Taking quick sips every now and then, rounding on each-other as their conversations went on.

It was trivia night, apparently. Something, something about giraffes being able to go on without water for over a million years— didn’t know, didn’t care.

Dante sat there scrolling through his phone like a weirdo— his other hand mindlessly giving half-hearted spins at one of those swirly chairs with the swirly top they had at the bar, like a toddler— up until he couldn’t. The night wore on, Tak was taking too long.

He took another pull, rattling the bottle down on the bar as he finally unweaved threads of his un-existance from the unity of the bar— some turning to look at him once he stood up, some not caring much at all. No more than an awkward moment of silence, then their eyes tore off. Dante made his way to the entrance.

The night was somewhat chilly, his breath hung out of his mouth and he’d see it faint before his eyes. The moon; she was pretty as always. Not much to complain about, it was still nice and quiet. He’d been wanting to put up a play-act of him being angry at Tak arriving late, like a scolding wife from the 80’s at her drunk husband, but the calmness had taken the evil spirits from him.

He just leaned into one of the gray-ish walls, scrolling a bit more on his phone. All until he heard a pair of footsteps breaking ahead into the darkness, his eyes immediately snapped into the direction. Bright gold blurring in a flash of movement, locking in, glimmering— the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Yo,”— He called out, hands moving into his pant pockets— “I’ve been waiting all night.”— He slicked the hair out of his face, eyes narrowed, weighted with a tinge of grogginess— “Holy fuck, you’re slow… How’re you inviting someone out for drinks and having them arrive before you?”

He snapped up at Tak, looking down on him with a shit-eating grin as he went to bump him on the shoulder. Dante didn’t know when, but they were already at the ‘Greeting each other with fistbumps’ phase. Concerning, truly — “Didn’t even give me a..—" — He stopped mid-sentence, looking off to the side and squinting his eyes. Putting some brainpower into it — “Did you give me a specific hour for this shit? Can’t remember…”

“Eh.”— He dismissed it as fast as he’d brought it up.

“I’ve got some sea..—“ — Right as he was about to urge him inside the bar, his eyes bared down on the small figure at Tak’s side, not even managing to recognize her with his night-vision eyeballs. She was still way too quiet — “Ah…”— He feigned a moment of realization, mouth hanging open in ‘surprise’ — “Sup, Hiachi.”

Dante gave her a smile, his eyebrows creasing and his head tilting like his neck had a rotor set on it. First time in his life he’d ever smiled looking as confused as he was. The look crossed his face for a heartbeat, then it faded.

Dante reached out a fistbump to her as well, having to stoop down slightly. She had fistbumping rights too, after that whole mess at the zoo, he figured — "Didn’t know you were coming too, man.” — Unlike the way he spoke to Tak, Dante’s tone was less blunt when addressing Hiachi. His voice turned a decibel gentle, more no-nonsense— plain.

“Think I’ve got a seat saved up for you too.”
 
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SYLVIE SLEZÁK
CS Link
SCENE:
8 Dollar Jackpot
LOCATION:
Principality Coffee, outside New Oasis
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3, April 16th 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Sylvie, Hiachi
8 DOLLAR JACKPOT

Sylvie ate away at his lunch, eyeing Hiachi as he did so, until it looked like she had taken in what he was showing her. Bringing his phone back towards him, he locked it, tucking it away in his pocket to give her his full attention again. Though he was confident in his plan, it was hard to tell what she was feeling, and he sensed this would be a common thing. She still seemed on board though, so that was fine.

“Glad to hear that.” He thought for a while about the distance, but had an answer for her second question immediately. “Oh don’t worry, today is just us. I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I have a lot of friends that you should meet, we all like to gamble. You will like them.” Sylvie didn’t think she would, at least not right now, but he was nervous around the Tigers when he was brand new as well. “As for Litore, it isn’t far. Hour in the car, perhaps a bit more? Let’s see how traffic is.”

He ate the last bite of his lunch and returned to his phone, ready to leave but not wanting to hurry Hiachi.

 
SYLVIE SLEZÁK
CS Link
SCENE:
Reaching The Heavens From Hell
TIME:
Pre Arc-3
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Sylvie Slezák, Shishido Takakazu
Reaching The Heavens From Hell
Sylvie laughed off Tak's response, before his smile faded as he devolved to begging. Now it was a little awkward, but Sylvie couldn't run a charity here. If the guy's skill matched his words, he wouldn't need to beg. His own fault if he loses it all.

"Okay, go do that! Slots are a fun, casual game." He was glad for his opponent's decision. If he was busy there he wouldn't be around trying to mess with Sylvie's game. He couldn't help but slide one last snide remark, though it meant very little. Roulette was hardly any more complicated, and Sylvie was fond of the slots as well.

As the man in front received his chips, Sylvie locked eyes with the one behind the cash desk, walking up with a newly-formed grin. He chose to keep the small-talk to a minimum, rather than hold things up further. One thing he didn't hold back on was letting slip about his rival waiting behind him, speaking in hushed tones. A remark elicited a shared laugh, waved off by Sylvie as he walked away, ready to multiply his, by his standards, meager allowance.

He looked back to Tak, before making a beeline towards the roulette tables. They were all crowded, and the patrons were riled up with excitement. Perfect. Of course, one could argue that it made no difference, as all was up to chance anyway, but Sylvie thrived off of the atmosphere. He squeezed into a gap and gazed upon the table, immediately placing chips down as the wheel began to spin…

 
DEIREST
CS Link
SCENE:
The Dead and The Deathless
LOCATION:
Vandalized Lot, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Deirest, Peyton
The Dead and The Deathless
There was screaming. Tap, drag, tap, drag. It was loud. Always so loud. The concrete. How it shrieked.

Blood gushed from the snake's leg as it fled. Wimpers, pleas, and prayers for salvation trailed in his wake, as hot and red as the trail of vermillion that he painted behind him. His voice had not been alone. Not until a moment ago. There had been others. Others screaming as he did, but they were gone. He was alone. No, not alone. He could still hear her. No, it.

Somewhere, metal crashed, clattering loudly against the concrete. Closer, a fence rattled noisily. Closer yet, red, wet footsteps started to echo down the alley. Plop plop. The noise advanced down the twisting passage, bouncing off of red-brick walls and red-stained pavement. The snake's breath heaved under his own weight. The weight of his fear, his sins, his... Was this what they meant when they said that your life flashes before your eyes?

Something burbled inside him. His throat rippled. He couldn't stop it. A gout of red and brown spluttered out of his mouth, blood and bile, but to his credit, he soldiered on. That was all he could do.

"Ah." Harrowed. Hysteric. Hollow. Hurt. Hungry. A voice that smiled. The footsteps hastened, excited. Fast and wet. They were like rain. "You're fine."

Whatever strength he had left in his body, he summoned it. Willed it, begged it to be with him now. For once in his life, for the last time in his life, he needed to be strong. A prayer escaped his lips in whimpers, one to any god or devil that was listening. He'd do anything. He'd become a good person, a worse person, for fuck's sake, he'd live the rest of his life with a peg leg if they gave him to strength to run away right. now.

But nobody was listening. There was no secret wellspring of hidden strength within him, nor any divine second wind without. If there had been such as thing in his life, it would've been the narcotics. The nose candy. The zroom-zroom. Those blisters that made him feel like a god. But-

There was a halt, a stilling in the night. Ambient, polluted moonlight shone down on him. That pitter-patter of footsteps like the rain had stopped, and now the storm cloud loomed tall. A cumulonimbus of matted hair and fresh, shining viscera, of frenzied, malhuman voracity.

There were no people in that alley. There was that thing, and then there was him. A snake. He'd thought he was a snake. A viper, a cobra, a python, a Serpent. But, no, no. That was a delusion. Snakes slithered. He slithered. But snakes were swift and clever, too. And they didn't leave trails either. Fat, red ones that led right to him, like a pirate's map.

He'd left a trail, painted with that useless, worse-than-a-peg leg. He slithered, but he wasn't a snake. He was a slug.

"Hiiiiiiii..." Boomed the cloud, no, the cougar, now, as it stalked forward. Why was a cougar hunting a slug? It didn't make any sense. "I..... Think something happened to those other ones?"

She did. She happened. Right? They weren't loud, like the ones in orange, but they were noisy. They were noisy and they touched.

"There's... There is- There's. Somethin' gone wrong up here." Up in the clouds. Where her head went. Where it was. "Errethin's tooooooo..." She winced. Too BRIGHT, too BRIGHT and LOUD and-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" The slug screamed. She'd gotten close to him. So close. She could see his sad, fat little slug body. Naked and afraid. With no shell. No shell. No shell. No shell. No-

"Ow." Something slipped into her. Into her skin. Cold. No, hot. There it was again. Noise.

"Ow." She breathed in, and felt the intrustion come with her. The slug fell away from her, quivering as it did. Her eyes went with him, down to her bare stomach, dressed only in blood. No, not only. Blood and wounds and metal. Another fat, long blade hung from her torso.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW" There it was again. The rain. This time of words. It, she, the cloud, slapped at the metal intrusion, but that only made it worse. The knife plunged deeper. She remembered what this was. It was hurt.

Pain.

"aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" She fell on him. Screaming. Her hand clapped down on his shoulder like thunder. A grip like iron dug into his flesh like it was clay. "That hurt. I hate that."

And then he was gone. She tossed him. Like a wet paper bag. His body went limp, but still breathed. Still cried. Still begged.

"Plea-"

"-ease?" Just like that, the raging whirl of her emotions stopped. Or changed. Back to before. Before the backstabbing. No, the frontstabbing.

"Please?" The word felt foreign on her mouth. Like all words. But a little less. Not foreign. Familiar. "I know that. That's..." M. It started with an M. Maul? Metal? Murder? M- "Manners! I remember manners. Those were... Important."

What for? She couldn't remember. Maybe she just needed practice.

"Pllleeassseeeee. Can you help me?" She was getting excited. She walked or stalked or shambled over to the slug. Her slug. Her helper slug. "Y'see I'm... Missing something. I think. I thought. Help me find it, ple-"

Then there was something. A sensation.

"-eeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-?"

There was wind in her hair. What was this? It was on the tip of her tongue.

"-ssssssssssseeeeeeeee?" Her face slapped into the cold, cold concrete. Two of the knives tumbled and fell away from her impact. One, the slug's one, sunk even deeper in. It hurt. Again. But the pain helped. Again. She remembered what this was. She was falling. She'd fallen. And now she was on the ground.

"Ow." She spat, muffled, into the pavement. A shape loomed over her.

"Are youuuu......?" She searched for the word. What caused falling again? "....Grravvvity?"

She hated gravity.

Coyote Hart Coyote Hart

 
ELEANORE
CS Link
SCENE:
{=Clipped Wings Cannot Rebirth=}
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Helva, Pei, Red, Corvo, Eleanore
Clipped Wings Cannot Rebirth
When the message reached Eleanore, she had been idly staring at a screen, tapping her fingers against her computer's mouse. That wasn’t really an important activity, Eleanore justified to herself, parking her car and stepping out. Just because you don’t expect any official work, doesn’t mean the world stops, she knew that, and taking a break would hardly be a valid excuse if it turned out to be important. The phone call had certainly spoken of something important, someone claiming to know the truth behind the Phoenixes’ “problem”, and there was no real world where she wouldn’t drop anything and everything after hearing it. It was just irritating, having to run the risk of missing something you wanted to not miss even if there were no real consequences. She would, with significant regret as she came to terms with the thought, just have to live with it.

Attempting to move on from that mindset, she brought her mind around to a more useful matter and considered the scenario in more detail. The Roost being a second home to her did help sooth her nerves, certainly, and the riddle had immediately made the location jump to mind. There was always a very tiny voice in her head that said anything could be an ambush, so everything should be prepared as one, but it was such home turf that Eleanore could only pity the idea someone would dare profane the graveyard just to ambush her. Perhaps she was just biased towards the place, but it had always struck her as relaxing. A respectful way to honor both the dead and one’s time, and she assumed anyone smart would view it in the same way.

Eleanore came to a short stop upon hearing the noises of conversation up ahead. She tapped down her suit, in a gesture that both creased out any wrinkles and reminded her muscles of where things were to use if things did actually go south inside. And then she walked into the Roost, making no efforts to hide her entrance. She was just... here now, giving the three people already inside discussing things a brief nod before looking up at the flames burning around the Roost, taking a few precise steps away from the entrance.. She did not have any intent to start a conversation, appearing to assume that if one of them is the caller, they’d be the one to inform her and not vice versa.

thebigfella thebigfella miki miki Peckinou Peckinou Roda the Red Roda the Red AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa
 
Zentsupa Pei
CS Link
SCENE:
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
TIME:
2019 || Pre-Arc 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Eleanore ( mechanicalmania mechanicalmania )
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes

The days of bright lights and bright lights. The shadows of dark alleys that sat between the secret clubs that gave a taste of heaven and the bitter stairs that guided toward the disgusting stench of purgatory. People wearing suits and dresses could walk side by side with those who had only put on sweatpants and a t-shirt. The embrace of the night did not discriminate. Its doors opened to all brave enough to be guided by its flames, hung close for the sparks of enjoyment or flew too close and became engulfed in the inferno.

No one ever expected it could have all been washed away so easily. Water flooded through any opening it could find within the sturdy foundations, tearing out any structure or form of balance it could. It roared through the streets, cleaning it of its year of accumulated grime. Glass crushed under pressure, wood cracked from the weight.

Bodies were flushed of their sins, floating across the streets like lilies in the pond. Whether they were a civilian or a gang member, it no longer mattered. Dark clouds loomed in the distance, thunder sounded, but no sparks cracked through the sky. The silhouette of the massive fortress, the headquarters of those whose burning wings were supposed to fly them to the top.

They were submerged, snuffed. Their flight towards the heavens was interrupted as the typhoon saturated their wings, obscuring the once visible towering structure amidst the relentless downpour, mercilessly propelled by the fierce gusts of wind.

The sounds of the structure being torn apart could barely be heard, hardly above a whisper among the splashing of water, the clamoring winds. The destruction muffled, a suffocated execution.

It wasn’t that long ago.

Clouds eventually parted, the sun would have no choice but to rise again. The rotation of the planet was fueled by the flames of survival, stoked by the fuel of revenge and the demands of answers. Their feathers were now dry under the clear sky, and it was only a matter of time before the fiery wings took flight again. However, it remains to be seen whether they will burn as brightly as they once did.

Puddles still soaked the walkways, droplets still trailed down the pipes of gutters. The sidewalks were overflowing with soggy heaps of debris, disarrayed buildings and waterlogged interiors. The streets resembled a chaotic mosaic of shattered glass, splintered wood, and clogged gutters obstructed by abandoned garments. Furniture scattered across the streets, lost, disregarded, purposeless with no home to return to.

Footsteps splashed through puddles, they shambled along like soulless husks, directionless as they tried to find their purpose. Picking up the pieces, not yet accepting their grief as they had yet to process what was lost. They looked at each other for answers, but what they found was only the same hollowness looking back at them, empty.

Everywhere, there were wandering spirits trapped in the threshold between existence and the afterlife. As the door eventually shut, they discovered themselves on the opposite shore. However, a lingering sensation persisted within them, signifying that a part of their being remained incomplete on the other side.

Reconstruction hadn’t even been considered or sought, as everyone tried to reclaim the humanity they once had.

Among the aimless wandering, a pair of feet planted themselves down on the ground with the reverberation of life, a dull hum that coursed through their body. They strode with determination, purposefully stepping around puddles, mindful of the consequence it could entail, fully aware that there was more at stake than just wet socks.

Their hands rested in their pocket, a casual posture as the perspective panned up their broad back. He remained unaffected by the disaster that unfolded around him, disregarding the inquisitive stares, suspicious glares, and bewildered looks directed towards him. He steadfastly maintained his unwavering concentration. He couldn’t afford distraction, not when his sights were set so high.

His green eyes motioned upward, the glint of the sun glazing across his irises as his focus rose higher and higher. He could see it in all its glory, it had sustained damage, but the hurricane did not wash away its purpose. It still stood proud. He could only grin when he saw it, a twisted grin full of jagged teeth, a chuckle full of just as much pity as amusement as he saw its mangled form.

The HQ of the Phoenixes.

“Kekekekekek.” The continued subdued laugh finally petered off, the owner of the impish snicker was revealed as the perspective shifted to show his face. His expression dripped with a sheen of confidence, a pre-certified understanding of his success. A pair of demonic horns and wings would fit him perfectly.

“Time for my big debut.”




The hurricane didn’t come close to leveling the HQ. It was a sturdy building, for reasons exactly like this. Though the damage it sustained wasn’t something that couldn’t be brushed off. It was only one small part of the massive damage the district had received.

The Phenoxies, being more accustomed to devastation, swiftly recovered from the destruction compared to the civilians. After all, it would be a disservice to their reputation if they didn't. However, it would be dishonest to claim that they were not deeply affected by the attack.

There was so much to do, recovery had too many aspects that they could just twiddle their thumbs. The identification and disposal of bodies, the search for missing individuals, the reconstruction process - all of this requires cleaning as the first step.

With so many focuses trained on different aspects, it wasn’t a surprise how empty the area around HQ seemed. The gang stretched thin, but the palpable tension in the air hadn’t dispersed with their members. The Phoenixes who kept themselves out in the open were clearly on edge, the uncertainty of their attackers still tickling the back of their mind.

This uncertainty was especially prominent among those who lingered near the core of headquarters. The fear of someone arriving to complete the task, taking advantage of their weakened state to deliver the final blow, was a prevailing concern. They stood fearlessly, determined to protect their family's home, not bothering to conceal themselves and challenging anyone who dared to attack.

With their gaze fixed far away, they eagerly awaited any sign of approach - be it an ally bearing good news or an enemy to channel their pent-up anxiety against. The thought of a neutral party never occurred to them.

Even as an unfamiliar silhouette walked towards their front door.

He approached with no visible signs of aggression, but not a single ounce or hesitation, and not even the beginning of surrender. As he went from a dark shadow to a vibrant figure, the grin on his features didn’t do anything to give them answers.

He was walking brazenly towards them after an attack, he was playing a dangerous game, one that could easily end up with him being killed.

As he grew closer, the Phoenixes on watch shifted, the ones who were relaxed by crouching or slouched against walls had stood up straight, those standing off to the side had joined with the rest to form into the main group. Shadows shifted from behind Pei, the gaps between buildings and the shaded alleys were prepped for ambush.

But he couldn't care less. He stopped in his tracks, his shoes skidding slightly against the ground. He did not stop because he feared attack, but because he had no necessity to go further. He continued to look at the Phoenixes with a grin, silent, unflinching, he had nothing to say to them.

token_1_2.png
“What’s your deal?”

A velvety voice, calm in timbre, made Pei’s attention shift over. A man who was brave enough to break the tense silence, a cigarette hung from his lips, wisps of smoke coming from its end. The reflection across his glasses kept one of his eyes hidden, “You got a death wish or something? We don’t have any time for your suicidal games,” he stated, he clearly didn’t see a threat, only a troublesome nuisance. How could you not, in a situation of such disgusting handicap. Outnumbered and overpowered.


If only that was true.

“Kekekekek…KEKEKEKEHKEH!”

Despite the glares directed towards him, Pei couldn't help but burst into a hearty laugh, raising his head and placing his hands confidently on his hips, finding amusement in the situation. The fear of death did not come to him, the smell of it avoided him. It had no reason to get close, because he wasn’t going to die.

He turned his head back down, giving all that looked at him the same cocky leer.

“I’m here to join your ranks, you skittish chickenshits,” He spoke with gradation, not holding back the venom in his words as he spoke with uncaring savagery.

Under different circumstances, his audacious declaration would have elicited a few laughs from the Phoenixes who simply couldn't resist mocking the arrogance of a novice. However, in this instance, humor was absent, replaced instead by an abrupt rise in temperature caused by the withering stares directed at him.


token_2_1.png
“Tch! Fuck off!"

The next Phoenix, with a fiery temperament, lashed out against him. Her brows furrowed in intense loathing for the audacious man. "What makes you think we would allow a suspicious person like you to join up!?" She shouted with a scowl, just about ready to take care of the blonde herself.

“KEKKEKEHAHAHAH”

Once again, came the obnoxious laugh, as the sharp-eared boy dropped to sit on the ground below. The man abruptly stopped laughing and lifted his finger, indicating something in the distance beyond the Phoenixes obstructing his path, as he prepared to make a bold statement.

“Why!? Because I’m gonna help you repair all this damage, you shitheads!”

Anger had been misplaced, and filled in by confusion. Sharpened glares replaced by dulled gazes of bewilderment. He was going to do repairs? How?

Questions that found themselves forgotten as the ground began to shake.

Everyone looked down but Pei tried to comprehend what was happening, before quickly snapping back to look at the blonde who had talked such a big game until now. He must have been the cause, what was he doing?

Not a single thing was revealed by his expression about what was going on in his head, and his body language gave no indication of any action, since he had not yet taken any. The question wasn’t what he had done, but what he did.

Slowly it became visible in the distance, a cloud of dust, a stampede caused by hundreds of tiny figures. At first, it seemed like distance was the reason behind their short stature, but as they grew closer it was shown this wasn’t the case.

Hundreds of child-sized beavers came rushing towards the scene of destruction, bright orange construction hats on all their heads. Some had tools on their backs, from hammers to pickaxes, others drove tiny trucks or small construction machines. It was a full construction team made up of nothing but looked to be nothing but toys.

The Phoenixes on guard could only move out of the way, raising their feet as the crowd of toys motioned past them, already given clear orders. Upon assuming their respective positions, a beaver donning a bright yellow cap emerged and, communicating through unintelligible squeals, proceeded to issue instructions to the remaining beavers as to their respective duties. Without delay, the busy workers swarmed the area and began their work, quickly dispersing in all directions.

The Phoenixes could only look around in awe and bewilderment. Some thought they were dreaming.

Pei watched on, laughing all the while as he reveled in the absurdity of the situation of his own machinations, crossing his arms in satisfaction. He only stopped when someone’s shadow cast above him, causing him to shift his attention to look at the same glasses man from earlier looming over him.

He had lost his previous indifference and replaced it with a subtle smirk as he took the cigarette from his mouth. "You truly are quite intriguing, kid." You got some real balls. You want to join the gang? Then I’ll sponsor your crazy ass,” he bluntly offered, might it have been a bit too early to start trusting? Most likely, but for this man, his gut instincts told him to humor the brat.

The sharp-toothed blonde stared at him with the same patient silence he displayed before, his eyes boring past the man’s glasses to peer into his mind. He had gotten what he wanted, just like he had said, a way into the gang, it was that easy.

“I’ll pass.”

The outright rejection of the proposal reverberated across the area, capturing the interest of all those within earshot. Some were left gobsmacked, while others fixed their gaze with suspicion.

“He turned down Theo’s offer?”

It was a collective thought of questioning, even if Pei had not known how established Theo was as a Phoenix, turning down a sponsorship when his goal was to join the gang made no sense.

At least to everyone else, but Theo didn’t miss a beat as he put his cigarette back into his mouth. “... I had a feelin’ you’d say that. Thought I’d try anyway.” He coolly replied, leaning back up straight as he turned to walk away.

“I can tell you’re the type who chooses your sponsor.”

He didn’t expect an answer to his question, evident by the fact he continued to walk away, leaving Pei back to sitting alone by himself.

He didn’t need to give an answer anyway; the question had been answered before it had been asked.

“Kekekekek….that old bastard could read my eyes, huh?” Pei remarked, as he placed a hand on his chin, slouching forward as his eyes gazed forward. He didn’t care for the other Phoenixes, nor for the Playmates he had set for the construction job. His focus was plain and simple.

Waiting for the person who would be fit to be his sponsor to come to him.

 
Last edited:
Gideon Gray
CS Link
SCENE:
Loose Exhibition
LOCATION:
Premier Motors, South District
TIME:
April 1st, 2022 | Post Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Gideon, Zulin
Loose Exhibition
"You rascal," Gideon chuckled. He reached over while driving to bump Zulin playfully on the shoulder. Catching trash on fire? What a chaotic thing to do.

Even as they were free from the initial nail-biting ordeal of stealing the car, and by Zulin's guess, they were clear from any pursuit, they still had to deal with figuring out how to make the car seemingly street legal. Despite the potential headache this posed, Gideon was sure that Zulin's assertion of their next steps were important. He would need to wait a little bit before taking the car out in public. Patience was a virtue, after all.

The issue was, Gideon didn't know of anyone who provided such services. Helva scared Gideon, and so the burgeoning villain wanted to do his best to find someone else to assist with the task. There was definitely someone in the Phoenixes that Gideon could ask to get the job done for him, but was he in the position to ask for such a favor? No. The answer was no. He was in no position to.

This only left Helva as the person for Gideon to go to. She wouldn't be a bad person to owe a favor to. Unfortunately, Gideon was scared of the woman. The few times he had fought by her side, Gideon had been traumatized by the bloody and gory methods of killing that she employed. And Gideon always had an inkling that Helva felt some sort of negative emotion about him... wry amusement? Pity? Gideon didn't know, but he felt that it must have been something disparaging.

"Where would Helva be right now? HQ?" Gideon asked. The car came to a stop at a red light, and Gideon took advantage of the moment to take out his phone and begin to chart a course through the map application. But before he did so, he wanted to offer Zulin something in return for his help, even though he didn't know what he even had, "Actually, is there anywhere you wanna stop by before that? Any mischief you want to pull me into?"

In a way, it almost sounded like Gideon was asking for another favor. But Gideon knew that Zulin found it fun to drag Gideon into his mischief. Since Zulin had helped out with the car, it only felt right to go along with any of Zulin's ideas.

It was a Friday and it was getting to the time when people were starting to get off of work and head home. And so, the intersection was surprisingly full of cars, leaving Gideon plenty of time to tap impatiently on the top of the car wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.

"What is Helva's opinion of me anyways?" Gideon asked Zulin, "I feel like you'd know since you're her shadow."


Peckinou Peckinou
 
PEYTON XIONG
CS Link
SCENE:
The Dead and The Deathless
LOCATION:
Vandalized Lot, North District
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 || Circa June 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Deirest

THE DEAD AND THE DEATHLESS
The air tasted like blood. The corrosive metallic flavor lingered in the night air and announced that someone was dying. Somewhere in one of the back alleys, a blood curdling scream echoed across the empty streets. It was a commonplace sound in the North District with its slum vibes and its doggy dog world. And so, Peyton ignored it as he trudged back home in the early morning.

He had finished with a late night shift at the bar, and he yawned as he stretched towards the dark sky where the moon waxed. With a bounce of his shoulders, Peyton jolted a burst of energy back into his tired body as he pulled himself back to his and August's house.

Then he heard it again. Another scream pierced the dark blanket of the night. It was from someone else. A woman. And it was closer, which meant that Peyton was probably going to cross paths with the murder-in-progress on his way home. If that was the case... then there was no reason not to check it out. Maybe Peyton could even join in the violence and make sure that order was restored. After all, just because he rejoined the Serpents didn't mean that his values changed overnight. He still believed that order was important and that it was best administered with a dose of excessive violence.

It didn't take much to find the source of the screams. All Peyton had to do was follow the voices that echoed down the decrepit alleyways. And there, he was greeted with a bloody sight. A stocky man was crumpled on the floor, who Peyton vaguely recognized. A woman with orange highlights in her hair stood above him, talking in a manner that almost seemed vaguely incoherent to Peyton. She hadn't noticed him yet, leaving Peyton an opportunity.

And what did he do?

Well, he pushed her over, of course.

Peyton reached up to the taller woman's back and gave her a hearty shove. As she crashed to the ground, Peyton set the butt of his rifle against her back, preventing her from getting up. A Cheshire grin spread across Peyton's face as he squatted down to the ground so that he could level with the lady's face. The jubilant look only widened when she asked if he was gravity, with Peyton's eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Nope! I'm not gravity! My name is Peyton!" the half-zombie chirped. He was courting danger, being so close to a woman who was very intent on violence, "You look cool! Especially your hair!"

A few feet away, the injured Serpent did his best to pull himself off of the ground but found that his strength was quickly waning. All he could do was scootch himself a few feet away from Peyton and his assailant.

"Oh thank God," the Serpent said, "You saved me. Sh-sh-she's a monster, get her away from me!"

Peyton ignored him. He recognized the man as one of the people who vocally despised Peyton for leaving the Serpents and rejoining. However, unlike the other Serpents who disapproved of Peyton, this man didn't have the balls to enforce his beliefs. Even when Peyton offered the man an opportunity to fight Peyton, the slug-like Serpent always got cold feet and backed out. Instead, he continued to insult and belittle Peyton.

Honestly, Peyton loved the trash talking. Mean people were the best. But it was rather pathetic and boring of him to immediately change his tune when he was in danger. If not for his gun being occupied with the woman beneath him, Peyton would've killed the man himself.

"So you're looking for something?" Peyton offered, "Are you going on a fun killing spree and hoping you find it? Cause if you are, maybe we can tear each other apart!"

If a fight would help the lady, then Peyton was obliged to help. His dangerous offer was presented with the night sky shrouding most of his face. Even in night though, his cat-like golden eyes glowed with the moon casting a silhouette on his figure. But despite the light pollution, the meaningless blush on his face and the whites of his teeth were visible.

So, cool and violent newcomer. What's your move?

The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
ELEANORE
CS Link
SCENE:
{=Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes=}
LOCATION:
Mainly Phoenix HQ, South District
TIME:
2019 {Pre-Arc 1}
PARTICIPANTS:
Pei { thebigfella thebigfella }
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes
LOCATION: Lakeside Cabin, Undisclosed Waterfront

“𝔜ou shouldn’t worry about it. 𝔖tay out of the city, stay offline, wait a few days, check in when it feels right.”

That should’ve been a warning to Eleanore. None of the other dates and locations on this listicle came with such a sentence. Some of them had a

“𝔖hort skirmish with the Serpents, your presence will change the outcome.”

“𝔐edium sized fire, alert the standing guard two days beforehand.”

“𝔄ttempted assassination via a rifle and a poison related potential. 𝔜ou can handle it.”

or other sort of short explanation. Leonard’s timetable didn’t need to explain why it was talking to Eleanore. Leonard never had felt the need to elaborate often, because he knew he was just right. It was your ill-educated choice to ignore his words, and having grown up with the man, Eleanore made the right choice every time. But this just felt… different. Waiting in a purposefully hidden cabin in the middle of nowhere but close enough to everywhere of importance, it had done something to Eleanore that she hadn’t had happen to her in a long time. She was nervous.

Eleanore paced around the vacation home, from room to room fidgeting with her hands. Obviously, something important was going to happen, or had happened, or was currently happening. It was important enough that this was the last thing that her modern day oracle of a father had written down, with a vague message. “Don’t worry”, of course she’s going to worry. If you had wanted her to not worry, Eleanore half snarled at the book lying on an end table next to a comfortable chair, you could give her just a line or two. It wouldn’t be hard, he was obviously capable of it. It was taking a significant amount of her self restraint in this antsy period to not just open her burner phone, see what the world was hiding from her in this little building of paradise.

The cabin wasn’t even bad. That also stung. It’d have been nicer if there was some busywork, a crack in the roof to funnel her rage at or a leaking pipe to replace as if that was her only problem. No, if Eleanore wanted to relax in her days here, it would’ve been easy. A good view, clean windows, a collection of board games that were all delightfully vintage, and it was so far away from civilization and neighbors that it’d be a very nice place to either hide out or hide someone else out. And if Eleanore enjoyed fishing, or kayaking, or swimming… swimming wasn’t bad, actually, she just wasn’t in the mood. If she was in the mood, there was a picturesque lake just outside. It was almost too much. It looked so good she wondered if she’d have the heart to dump a body in it if she had to.

With a defeated sigh, she sat down on the edge of one of the kitchen chairs, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before leaning onto the table. Seems she had ended up here, maybe it’s a subconscious message from her mind that she needs to eat. She hadn’t bought or brought anything before she arrived, but the place was stocked enough to eat comfortably well despite that, as long as you didn’t have any strong opinions about MREs and packaged foods with no plans to expire for the next century or two. Eleanore shifted backwards in the chair, deciding to give herself a moment to lounge before scrounging around the cabinets. She deserves it.

One pack of Cheese Tortellini in Tomato Sauce later, Eleanore took a look outside. What a beautiful sunset, reflecting just right off a pristine, clear, clean lake. It’s a postcard brought to life. She sighed, tapping at her pocket. Her burner phone had been set to silent and the news had gone unread, as of the request. Had it been long enough? Leonard wrote to check in “when it feels right”, which was so delightfully vague. Her father had been a decent man and Eleanore could think no wrong of him, but what did that define? Arguably, whenever she decided to check would be the correct time. She’d just… check it, now. Rip the bandage off. It’d been a few days, it was time to see what was happening that required her to be out of New Oasis.

…

Despite not being present for the hurricane, it still hit her like one. There wasn’t a news story more important than it in New Oasis, so she drowned in the details. “God’s will”, it was called, that an entire chunk of the city had been washed away. “Evacuation efforts turn up mostly fruitless”, “Unknown casualties with heavy infrastructure damage”, “Damage confined to the southern district”, all sentences quickly entering Eleanore’s mind and nestling there like an unwelcome worm. It didn’t even take five minutes for Eleanore to leave, throwing together what small personal effects she had brought with her. If it wasn’t for the unspoken rule of the cabin, that you don’t leave signs of your presence, she wouldn’t even have done that.

LOCATION: New Oasis, Southern District

For how the world reacted to her, she might as well have been mistaken as the Grim Reaper, gliding down the damaged and barely starting to heal streets of South District, looking around from side to side as if she was searching for any lost souls still trying to hang onto the world after the catastrophe. Tall, with her coat waving behind her not from the wind but from the speed she managed to walk. Over each shoulder was a weapon that she had made no efforts to conceal and in fact was seeming to showcase, as if daring the world to bring something to try to put in her way. Anyone who had a reason to be walking these streets were very certain that giving her a wide berth was the only intelligent option.

Eleanore’s hair seemed to hold the same opinion, not getting into the way of her eyes or face as if it also feared the consequences of such an action. Her face was half covered by a shadow with no discernible origin, anyways, so the hair would have to fight pretty hard to find any room on it to occupy. Everything about her seemed to be trying to stay out of her path, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, legs taking long and purposeful strides. Her clothes were creased, bent at odd angles that were normally pristinely ironed away. Hitting her home, seeing if it survived, was a secondary priority to her current goal. She seemed straight off of a storybook page, overly illustrated to ensure that the point, the threat she represented, wouldn’t be lost on any mind old or young.

Eleanore came to a stop, her shoe thudding against a piece of pavement that at one point held a crack running across it and now had been split in two along that weakness, as she took a brief moment to compose herself. Since the night that she had first found out about the crisis, it had been remarkably hard to do so, and it required constant work to keep herself in check. It didn’t matter that she had managed to get here half a day after she found out, it didn’t matter she was only two days late, because she should’ve been here in the first place. She didn’t know what she could possibly have done against a natural disaster, but maybe if anyone other than her had gotten the warning… compose, compose. She cannot do anything about it now. Move on. Move on… her feet began moving again, listening to the rational argument.

She needs to get to HQ. Partly because she needs some form of order. Not even the Phoenixes were going to be able to bounce back, no matter how strong their grasp on Central had been until now. They would be scrambling, and it was Eleanore’s duty to be scrambling along them. This would be a stressful time, and the fact that she had been vacationing during the worst of it was not lost on her, helping to throw more stress on the pile. The other part was that she needed to touch HQ. She needed something to tell her that the Phoenixes were still, physically, a presence. And if it was gone, demolished by this, she needed to know herself immediately. She wasn’t going to find out about it second hand. She was prepared for the worst.

The relief she felt at seeing it, the top shining and still standing strong among the city’s skyline, was just enough to pull her mental state back. It didn’t matter how damaged it was, it was still there, and that meant she could slow down. Handle it one step at a time, see if they had moved somewhere more secure or if this was still the HQ she had left. She began taking the shortest path, ducking and hopping over rubble with the intent to no longer remain in the dark, to finally be up to speed with the-- That was a beaver. That took a second to reconciliate with reality.

Somehow, seeing a beaver {Not, to Eleanore’s knowledge, a native fauna to New Oasis} wasn’t enough to bring her to a stop. It didn’t look like a beaver, despite moving like one. It seemed more like what a kid would think a beaver would look like and would want to hold somewhere in their bed, and the shiny orange helmet didn’t vouch much for the credentials of the beaver either, but it wasn’t important to Eleanore. Let there be a wild beaver running across the sidewalk with a piece of PVC pipe across it’s shoulder. It’s none of her business, and it’s quite simple to ignore things that aren’t relevant to you. What did bring Eleanore to a stop, and was her business, was seeing a swarm of the same, hard working beavers appearing to be fixing the Scarlet Phoenix HQ, setting up scaffolding and directing one another on patching the damage.

And then it made sense. There’s a small army of Phoenixes standing outside, ready for anything and unbothered with the strange sight, at least from a glance at this distance. She recognized some, but not all, and that was fine. Someone who she didn’t know among the Phoenixes had a potential capable of this, whatever “this” is, and was using it to get them back on their feet. Good. Then they’ll recover faster. With the beaver situation squared away in Eleanore’s mind, she’d hardly been held up for a second by the absurd sight before marching forwards. Her main concern was actually entering HQ, not loitering outside when the situation is under control and not having time to talk to the door guard. She was walking straight inside and everything and everyone else is going to get out of her way or get out of her way.

 
BLACK CLOAKS (NPCS)
CS Link
SCENE:
The Murder Above The Coffin
LOCATION:
Central District > North District
TIME:
June 8th, 2022 || Post-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Areith, Deirest ( The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit )
THE MURDER ABOVE THE COFFIN

The keys stacked upon each other like rows of stairs, each note holding its own tone and pitch. The patterns of black and white all glistened with the same glossy sheen, delicately maintained.

The creaking of wood as the composer sat upon the stool, the creasing of the leather cushion. Fabric ruffled as white gloved hands reached outside a pair of black sleeves, the silk fingers rubbing against each other. They hovered over the keys, fingers tracing through the air as they prepared to play the first sting.

Their fingers found their placement, flexing and twisting for the exact placement they wanted, and exerted pressure.

Wails and cries reverberated through the pipes, the vibrations of the metal shifting their pitch as it entered through the air. The haunting comfort of the screeches of angels, divinity that had been ascribed by a pen and quill, taking shape from stains upon paper to tangible faith.

The intensity of the organ ramped up, it echoed and reverberated through the emptied halls. Until it could be heard far beyond the confines of the cramped walls.

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​
The shadows hooked themselves into the crevices between buildings, their wings fluttered across the rooftops, blocking out the view of the moon. The cold night wind rippled across their flesh, shifting in the darkness. They avoided the light as if it would burn them to cinders, darkness was their only home. A faceless aggregation, any distinct features they could have hidden underneath a sheen of black. They moved in unison, disjointed but linked by creed, whether they hung close to the ground or flapped through the open sky, a goal was clear in mind. Although facing the challenges of a devastated land after a destructive earthquake, they effortlessly navigated through the wreckage and destruction as if it were their natural habitat.

Whispers had reached their ears, murmurs of rumors. The earthquake, the sign of Cataclysm, had awakened something resting, almost as if it was placed there just for this moment.

“It is His sign! He has sent us our Messiah!” Was her gospel, the assurance of His will. This was a sign of tremendous importance, the one who could rise again. Investigating further was never a choice. They would find out the future of their faith with open arms. The answer grew closer.

A thin thread of crime scene tape stood between them and the barely standing foundations of a destroyed building where the answers waited for them. They could have easily slipped past it, from above or below, but as it flimsy waved in the wind it acted as a desecration of what was holy land. They tore it in half as they marched onward, their movements barely above that of a whisper as they entered the crime scene. The surroundings were illuminated by temporary floodlights, casting light across the ground and revealing the rubble of the collapsed walls, as well as the cracks and gaps that hinted at the lower floor beneath.

The scene was marked by splatters of dried blood, and the absence of the bodies left the imagination to wonder about the fate that had befallen the victims and the number of people involved. It dripped from the edge of a sharp brick, pooled around a rusted pole of rebar, soaked into the ground with a pair of lost teeth. Tiny yellow labels marked each spot of interest. All such signs indicated the brutal display, almost like an act of retribution. These deaths were not those of unfortunate victims of the earthquake.

“What kind of monster would do this?” A question echoed through the debris, a heretic walking on sacred land without understanding its importance. His uniform was identifiable, a police officer. A flashlight was in his hands as he scanned across the scene.

“17 innocent people dead. Damn shame, after this earthquake we need all the help we can get.” A different officer added on, kneeling by a puddle of blood that had dried up nearby. A hanging cigarette rested in his mouth, its glowing embers faintly illuminated within the dim lighting, just at the edge of a floodlight's reach. He rose back up to his feet, dusting his uniform off as he looked over his shoulder at his partner, speaking in a gravely tone that could only be gained from years of smoking, “Where’s Sahara? She already left?”

"Yeah," the first officer responded, directing his flashlight towards the rear of the structure, illuminating a staircase that was on the verge of collapsing due to the deteriorating ceiling. "She came just to look at that coffin again. Thinks it's the key to figuring out what happened.”

Puffing a cloud of smoke out of his nose, the officer glanced towards the stairs himself, “There’s no way it ain’t. They probably found some typa treasure in there or something and one guy didn’t want to share, took the rest of ‘em out and is on the run. That’s my guess!” The man confidently voiced his half-formed hypothesis, removing his cigarette from his mouth and casually flicking it to the ground. In the dark, the sparks from the burning cigarette glowed faintly as the man pivoted and walked away, leaving it behind.


That small light abruptly snuffed out, the faintest crunch indicating someone else had stomped it out. The man’s head whipped around, flashlight moving around to try and see if it was just his imagination. His eyes glanced downward, and immediately he noticed something was amiss. The cigarette butt he discarded earlier was gone; not even the ashes were left.

His hand shot down to unholster his gun, raising it with his one free hand as the safety clicked off. “GCPD! Show yourself! I will use force if necessary!” He authoritatively commanded, eyes scanning around as his body moved, but he didn’t spot anything.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy.

“Lewis, stay alert, somethin’ ain't right,” he cautioned his fellow officer, grimacing as he continued to survey the surroundings. But he received no response, just his own voice echoing through the empty room.

“Lewis!?” He shouted out, hoping for an answer. Maybe he had just gone downstairs without him realizing, but he still got no response, “...Shit.” He clicked his teeth, holding his gun as he slowly stepped backwards toward the stairs. He needed to get down there, the area there was less confined, less likely for ambush. He just needed to move a few more steps, and he’d be safe, he was almost there.

He bumped against something, it was not a wall. He could tell from how it gave against the back of his head when he bumped into it, the faint warmth he felt of body heat. His head turned quicker to his body, encompassing blackness surrounding his vision, the skin of a dry cracked hand raised to his face, grasping around his jaw, muffling his screams.





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As they descended the staircase, newly placed lights by the late contractors illuminated their path through ceiling fixtures, providing temporary guidance. Foundation beams had been placed through the stairwell to secure it. Each step reverberated through the claustrophobic space. They went deeper underground, deeper into the sacred grounds, with still breaths.

They reached the end, stepping into a room that was more gruesome than the last. Bloody handprints painted a nearby wall, skid marks of blood underneath their feet. Bits of flesh still stuck to the ground, the stench of death permeated through the air. A display of might, the punishment of the unworthy. But the most blood did not come from the bodies of the recently slain.

It came from the open casket, dried blood soaked into the divots, caked underneath the metal bolts. The forceful deformation around the edges reveals their hasty attempt to open it, disrupting the natural course of events like forcefully tearing open a cocoon before the wings have fully developed. Their impatience resulted in punishment, as was inevitably intended. Some of the cloaks fell onto their knees, hands clasping together, heads dropping in prayer at the sight. Others walked forward, inspecting the metal coffin closely, but they dare not touch it.

"Sister Marai," the cloaked figure who had been leading the group all along finally spoke. He paused before the casket, making way for the taller member next to him to step forward. There were no other words that needed to be shared; she knew of her duty.

The hood of her cloak was tugged by a bronzed hand, uncovering the side of her disfigured face where a severe burn had left a permanent mark, revealing her teeth through the scant flesh that remained. Her tongue slid out from her lips as she leaned forward, placing it against the desiccated ichor, the muscle flexing across a rivet as the taste of rust permeated across her tongue. It retracted back into her mouth, her lips closing as she savored the taste, analyzing it fully. Her hand retreated from the hood's edge, causing her face to vanish back to an enigmatic shadow. Gradually, a subtle crimson radiance emanated from her eyes, as her pupils contracted and contorted, resembling a camera skillfully adjusting its focus.

“... I found it.”

With those words, those of the covenant who were kneeling in prayer rose back up to their feet. They all formed into a circle, looking at each other from underneath their hoods. A silent agreement of what they must do next. They ascended the stairs again, making their way to the ruined remains of Central. They carefully traversed the debris, their attention now drawn to the other side of the river. The flowing water shimmered under the moonlight, mirroring the distant buildings that stood in perfect harmony with the city's skyline.

To meet the Messiah, they had to go North.

Once again, the murder took off to the sky.


 
Last edited:
JOZEF DAALMAN

CS Link
SCENE:
Spotting The Wingless
LOCATION:
East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Celeste, Jozef, [NPCs: Flea, Tick] | Keith, Nona-Me [NPCs: Dragons x2]
SPOTTING THE WINGLESS

One Dragon stifled a yawn, the other checked his watch, running a finger over a crack in the clock face. The streets they patrolled continued to be dead. Not even the stray cats were about.

“Have you-”

Just as one spoke, their radios crackled to life, startling one to clutch his sword, ready for action. It was one of their scouts. The elder of the pair immediately looked over towards some buildings, knowing exactly where they were on account of his upbringing in the heart of this neighbourhood. Wordlessly, he broke into a quiet run, the other dragon following close behind as they ventured into the side roads that connected the many businesses of the area.

“We’ll be there shortly, prepare to back us up.”


“Me too, I need to work out which bus to take home.” Jozef closed his eyes as Celeste reached for his hair, smiling like a content cat. “Well, I want to stick close to you so you don’t get hurt, so I think that works out perfectly!”

He took a glance over to the Serpents below, before looking up at Celeste. “At least we’re getting paid, right?”


“You can take a break when we’re done.”

Flea glared daggers at her colleague as he wiped sweat from his brow. With the help of one of Cynthia’s men, the task of transporting the goods would be done quickly. Their strength certainly helped, but after a long day of work, Tick was feeling the fatigue of all the lifting. He ignored his aching muscles, and got back to work, doubling the amount he was carrying. Flea looked back to Cynthia, who stared at her through thick glasses.

“I wish more of your people were like you.”

“Huh?”

“Usually they send men that are so ill-mannered, so disrespectful. Your gang is lucky they dominate their industry, else they’d lose a lot of business.”

Flea looked at the elder, gobsmacked. She wasn’t going senile in her old age, right? She knew this was a gang of drug dealers, right? Flea wondered what she expected, but then, she didn’t even know what this lady had to do with the Serpents to begin with. Flea didn’t even consider herself to have good manners, having been a little too demanding of the old woman just moments before, but politeness was low on her priority list. She’d been spat on, threatened with weapons, and received the most disgusting comments from the people she dealt with. To be complimented, if one could even call it a compliment when the woman spoke with such a patronizing tone, was a complete shock. She mumbled out a few words, sheepish, unsure how to tackle it. Cynthia smiled, perfectly on cue as the man she sent inside returned with an envelope.

“Little something extra.”

The envelope was passed from one hand to another, into Flea’s. She didn’t have to open it to feel its worth. She felt the thick stack of notes and slipped it into a jacket pocket that was promptly zipped up. She felt slightly less disdain for the woman now, and happier knowing they would be home soon….

“Nobody move.”

“What the fuck?”

All eyes were on the two that just came into view, swords brandished, one pointing menacingly at the group.

Busted.

“Oh dear, what’s going on?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Cynthia’s men were on each side of her. Flea and Tick stood, sandwiched between the two groups. Despite the danger, they didn’t flee, though Tick trembled under the new pressure. A 2v2 was risky, but the pair had hope in their backup.

Jozef yawned. He hadn’t looked back to see the situation yet.

 
CHARLIE HUGHES
CS Link
SCENE:
To Live in the Shadows
TIME:
Nighttime, Pre-Arc 1, June 10th 2020
LOCATION:
Falcon's Perch, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Helva
To Live in the Shadows
With slightly agitated breaths, Charlie awaited prepared for the swordsman's next attack, knowing full well that the man's rampage was far from over. The waiter grit his teeth, a combination of emotions welling up from within him. The main sentiments were undoubtedly that of fear and anxiety, he was no fighter, only having really fought a single person in his entire life, bacl when he was in middle school, a rowdy high-school delinquent girl had beef with him for no reason whatsoever, it was a good thing that she was kind of a weakling all things considered, but this? There was a WORLD of difference between that girl and the criminal standing in front of him, his legs were shaking at the acknowledgement of genuine danger. But then, there was something else, another emotion beneath the others, a small bud far from being anywhere close to blossoming...a sensation of excitement, the sense of danger, the feeling of exchanging blows, there was something oddly satisfying about it. This feeling only served to puzzle the boy even further.

An attempt for a follow up attack was made, however, the man was barely able to take even a step, as a shadowy figure creeped up from behind him, injuring his legs. Charlie observed in surprise as he recognized the figure: the fancy lady from earlier, it seems like she had left the restaurant at some point, but then, what about the large man she was fighting?

His eyes opened even wider as he listened to their conversation, revealing the woman's identity as a member of the Scarlet Phoenixes. Charlie knew about the gang, if course he did, just who in the entirety of New Oasis didn't know about the great four gangs? The most powerful criminal organizations in the entire city, if not all of Amestria, the waiter himself had seen some of their movement in the past, but naturally, as a simple civilian, decided it was better to keep a low profile a distance from them whenever it happened. But as fate would do every now and then, the Phoenixes were sent his way. Charlie cringed as he watched the girl beat the man down, hopefully he only passed out, might be the case considering how tough he proved to be earlier.

He took a few steps forward, still gripping tightly at the broom stick without even realizing, with a combination of fear and awe, he spoke. "...Thanks, miss, I appreciate that". She replied back, asking for the manager of the restaurant. At the mere mention of him, Charlie gasped, his hands opening in shock, the broom making a loud thud as it fell on the ground. THE RESTAURANT, while his attention was completely occupied with the attackers, he had forgotten to check on the place right away. Without giving the woman a single word further, the waiter turned 180 degrees and rushed inside.

In the restaurant, the majority of the customers had fled the scene, be it through the windows or through the backdoor. A few tables were even turned, most likely due to panicked customers not caring about tumbling some furniture on their way out to safety. Charlie gave the place a good look around, his eyes darting from right to left. That is, until his sight locked on to the dead body lying on the middle of the place. He gasped once again even louder this time, his hands reaching up for his face, covering his mouth. The crimson puddle spreading from beneath corpse released an eerie metalic stench that invaded the boy's nostrils. He stood there, frozen in place, for while death and violence were no strangers in the accursed city, such a lifeless sight was new to him, a young man whose whole existence up to this point had been one of either sheltered luxury, or discrete mundanity.

The kitchen door opened, the creaking of the old and dry hinges brought the boy back to reality. From it walked out Charlie's boss, a man in his fourties of an unremarkable appareance, he appaeared to be visibly distressed, his arm that was still holding onto the door's handle was clearly shaking, and sweat covered his forehead and neck, giving them an unsightly sheen. Charlie rushed to the man, shouting out his title, the waiter attempted to get a closer look of the man, to see if he had any injuries, but was stopping by a single raised open hand, signaling for him to keep his distance.

"Charlie, what happened to the others"

"I-It's okay now! I took care of them, I don't think they'll come back after that"

"I see" said the man, before giving the corpse a long, distressed look "Fuck...The police is going to show up soon now" Then, he turned to look at Charlie once again. "Kid...I'm gonna need you to leave now"

Charlie gave him a confused look, not being able to understand why he'd ask him to go back home at such a dire moment "But Boss! I can't leave just yet, let me help"

"No, Charlie"

"I can clean! I or I can check if everyone is alri-"

"YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH"

The waiter was startled by the sudden rising of his boss' voice, a tone very uncharacteristic of the usually calm and stalwart man. The chef reached for his hat, taking it off the top of his head and using it to wipe off the sweat from his forehead.

"I know you had good intentions, but do you have ANY idea of the trouble you've gotten me into now? The cops are going to arrive and we're gonna have to admit that the staff got involved in the scuffle that resulted into a DEAD MAN in the middle of my restaurant! We'll be forced to close for days if not even weeks! This is a vital time of the year to make real profits and the setback is going to be massive!"

Charlie felt a cold, petrifying chill running down his spine, his throat shaking as the realization of the situation truly hit him. "B-But Boss...I-I had to do something! I was just helping!"

"You helped, yes, by getting in the way and getting all of us involved! Had it remained an issue between the customers only, the police and commitee of security would not get on my back so hard, but since you did and someone died in the end, I'm gonna go through legal HELL now..."

He released his other hand from the door, rubbing his temples with his fingers, most of his shock and anxiety now turned into anger and frustration.

"I'm sorry kid, but playing hero like that is just now how we survive in this god-forsaken place, and I can't afford you to do it again...And I know you will, you're a good kid, and that's exactly the problem" He slowly walked forward, awkwardly avoiding to step on the corpse as he directed himself towards the entrance, likely waiting for the incoming police.

"Don't come back tomorrow, don't even bother asking or begging...I'll make sure you get paid the rest of the month, hopefully that can help you a bit"

Without uttering a single word, Charlie could feel his legs weakening, shaking and ultimately giving up, causing the boy to knee on the floor, staring into nothingness as the sorrow started to manifest into tears. He had finally found a job he was happy with, one that could finally save him from homelesness for good.

Was this...really the end?



Peckinou Peckinou
 
PEYTON XIONG
CS Link
SCENE:
Meet and Grit
LOCATION:
The Third Eye, Central District
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 || Morning of July 8th
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Keith

MEET AND GRIT
That was a pleasant surprise. Peyton hadn't expected the one book that he brought to also be Keith's favorite. It seemed the two of them had at least a little in common-- ignoring the heat thing. Peyton had no idea how Keith could consider the temperature to be cold. Maybe it was because hot temperatures weren't good for cultivating diseases like the one that ran through his body, but Peyton distinctly felt uncomfortable by the warm weather. Rather desperately, Peyton took another spoonful of rocky road and greedily licked it up.

Regardless, at that moment, Peyton had a very similar thought to Keith's. With how they shared a common interest in Mrs. Mallick's works, it seemed like Keith would be the type of guy that Peyton could hang out with.

Then, with Keith's question of where Peyton came from, Peyton perked up. Keith was from the East? Then perhaps Peyton's sense of deja vu wasn't deja vu at all. Maybe he had met Keith somewhere. Maybe they had passed by each other in the streets!

"I live in the North! But I did live in the East for a while!" Peyton replied, neglecting to mention anything about gang activity, "I worked at this bookstore in Heiwana Sasayaki a while back! If you wanna talk to people who read Mallick's stuff, that's the place to go!"

Ever since defecting to the Serpents, he hadn't had any contact with the bookstore he had worked at for over three years. Instead, he found himself working in a library with diminished pay and very few customers. It seemed that everyone was either too caught up with their lives or were too obsessed with killing each other to spare a moment to sit down with a book. Which was kinda sad. Although, now that he met Keith, maybe his shifts could be less boring!

"Oh, I also work at a library! It's not too far up in the North from here! You should come by! We can talk about books all the time! That is, if I have a shift," Peyton kinda shrunk at the end of his sentence, and further shrunk when he remembered something else, "And when the Serpents aren't trying to trash the place."

Honestly, Peyton probably should ask for a pay raise. Defending the manga section wasn't a part of his job description after all.

Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
CHARLIE HUGHES
CS Link
SCENE:
The Ties that Bond Us
TIME:
Daytime, Post Arc 3
LOCATION:
Noodle Nirvana, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Jesper
The Ties that Bond Us
Charlie listened to what Jesper had to say in contemplating silence. The dragon's words inflicting pain on him like daggers stabbing through his chest. Every single sentence, each carried a sentiment of familiarity to the Phoenix. The feeling of helplesness from one's upbringing, to meet the expectations of one's parents, the pursue of approval, to feel what you do must be the right thing...All of it was simply too relatable to Charlie. Yet, there was also something else...A lingering feeling of annoyance, irritation at Jesper's words, especially that one last part. He couldn't quite put it into words, but something about someone from an enemy gang calling the others "Worse" was just...absurd. Maybe it was because of the natural hipocrisy of it, maybe it was because he was just trying to find a way to justify his actions...Or maybe, despite what he would like to claim, the rookie was still far from free from the Scarlet Phoenixes' indoctrination.

"I get what you mean, Jespy..." Uttered Charlie as he crossed his arms. "I've felt like that for a long time too...Back when I lived with my parents in West" He closed his eyes in contemplation, carefully thinking what could be his next choice of words.

"But are you sure those people really deserved it, or were they just in the Dragons' way?" He may not have admited to anything yet, but the way he spoke and the tone he used, they were ones of someone who was all too familiar with the gang life. "The other gangs can be terrible, yeah...But I've seen the things Dragons have done before, I don't need you to sugarcoat it for me"


AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa
 
Zentsupa Pei
CS Link
SCENE:
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
TIME:
2019 || Pre-Arc 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Eleanore ( mechanicalmania mechanicalmania )
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes

Chew. Chew. Chew.

Time had flowed by, the sun had shifted its position in the sky, the clouds had changed shapes and locations.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

The construction process was already in progress, as a multitude of small hands had been brought to headquarters to lay down the foundations for repairs. Little legs moved quickly across the ground, while tails energetically slapped concrete into place. Meanwhile, a line of tiny beavers carried pieces of rebar, their feet squeaking as they passed by.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

A piece of gum mushed underneath jagged sharp teeth, shifting through its peaks as lips smacked together, uncaring about the sounds they were making. They came together closely, blowing a deep purple bubble right in front of his face. It burst with a satisfying pop, leaving him to skillfully scoop it back into his mouth using his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands remained occupied with the small, square-shaped portable console that he held.

Pei hadn’t moved a single inch since he first sat down, even as things moved by him. Phoenixes had come to see what was going on, bewildered, and had left just as bewildered. They had no choice but to accept the absurdity as they walked around HQ seeing much of the tiny workers around.

The guards stationed outside still watched the boy intently, suspicion mixed with curiosity at what he was trying to accomplish. The beavers were the work of his potential, but they worked autonomously. Why was he just sitting around? In any other situation a loiterer like that would have been quickly shooed away, but this wasn’t any other situation.

Their focus on the strange kid was broken at the sound of weighty footsteps approaching, their eyes raised upward to look at the imposing figure in the distance. Many people immediately recognized the silhouette, causing some to furrow their brows and tense up, while others let out a sparse sigh of relief. Most simply displayed a stagnant apathy towards the approaching reaper.

They knew who she was, and what she was capable of, even then some questions bubbled at the back of many of their throats, all coming from the smile bile in their stomach. “Where were you when the hurricane struck?”

Some pondered innocently, others interrogated antagonistically, those who did know who her father was, and what he was capable of. Where was that knowledge beyond years at a time like this? Information beyond death.

But, even though they knew, they knew now wasn’t the time to speak of such ills, nor was it their place. For now, they chose to remain silent, watching her approach with tense and apprehensive glances that betrayed their growing unease, keeping their suspicions alive and fueling their anxiety.

But they would let her pass with no contention.

At least, that was the plan, until he stood in the way.

He looked up at her, glaring through the handful of inches that separated them to pierce right into her eyes. His hands rested in his pockets as he kept a knee leisurely propped up with his leg. Rather than grinning as he usually did, he confidently stood up and blocked the woman's path, unwaveringly analyzing her as he continued to chew his gum.

There was a stable silence in the air, as words weren’t shared. They had nothing to share, they held completely different realms of thoughts and intentions, a divide between realms that couldn’t be crossed easily. The cocky brat who acted as if he could care less, and the woman who would give anything for the family, were at odds on a fundamental level.

“Hey, old hag,” Pei barged through the muted air with a battering ram, addressing the reaper with vulgarity.








“Sponsor me.”








His lips formed together to blow another bubble, not breaking eye contact as it grew larger and larger.



 
Keith Sullivan
CS Link
SCENE:
Meet and Grit
LOCATION:
The Third Eye, Central District
TIME:
Morning, July 8th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Keith
Meet and Grit
Keith's expression turned once again into one of excitement as Peyton spoke, was he just asked to hang out with him? Did he make a friend already? Was making friends really that easy after all? for an introverted nervous wreck like Keith who had only made a single friend without the convenience of the Dragons in the last year, the idea just casually befriending someone in such a casual manner was nothing short of alien.

"Y-Yeah! I would love to go, that sounds, so if you don't mind it..." Then, his face turned into a slight grimace, as Peyton brought up the topic of...them.

"Right, of course it's them...those scum...always ruining everything" The tone in his voice had turned much more somber for a second, his face shifting to a expression that could be described as a middlepoint between angry and crestfallen.

Of course he would be angry, of course he would be resentful. A hundred of them could fall by his hand, a hundred years could pass, but the bitterness that had ingrained itself into him when it came to the serpents was never going to fade, he would never be able to bring them up into a conversation without his mind turning nebulous and resentful.

Then, there was a light ringing sound heard several meters away, shortly followed by the cheers on those at the front of the line. Like a cat whose attention was diverted by a stray vermin showing up into its field of view, Keith perked up, noticing the cheers with hopeful expectation.

"O-Oh! Look, the signing started now! It's a good thing we got here early so we won't have to wait too much" He turned to his phone, letting the screen go bright showing the time of day. "Take it with a grain of salt but...we might be there in fourty-five minutes or so...That's what I think, at least"



Coyote Hart Coyote Hart
 
Dagger
CS Link
SCENE:
Sweet Talkin' Woman
TIME:
December 22nd, 2021 | Pre Arc 3
LOCATION:
The Dollhouse, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Dagger
Sweet Talkin' Woman

She hadn't missed the unconscious body on the ground as she was dragged out of the establishment. While the bouncers would surely find their colleague within minutes after tossing her out into the cold dark, they would not know as she did that this was the handiwork of one Passeri Park. That girl didn't look it, and neither was she truly capable of more violent acts, but she was still willing to do what it took to see the job done.

Dagger winced as she rubbed her jaw. Not a small wonder, really. This job was her own. People would achieve what others would have thought impossible for them if it was their close associates on the line. Most, anyway. Definitely not tired dogs of war like her.

She pushed her way past the faceless mob that had started to form, either from busybodies on the street hearing about a commotion inside or those who had vacated the premises as she busied herself with making a scene. Even after the dust had settled, the brothel part of the building was in no condition to continue operating for the night. The dimly lit halls and the cloying smells would do little to hide the blood, broken teeth and shards of wood and glass. She had cost them much, and, no doubt, had she been any other drunkard, she would not have made it out of the building without a missing digit or two.

Thankfully, they had chosen not to settle for much other than the immediate expulsion of what they presumed to be a Ruthenian mercenary. It wouldn't do well for them, after all, if her associates came looking for compensation, and mercenaries only cared for payment in gold, or blood. Neither of these were worth it.

She staggered across the road with only the garish neon lights of the casino-brothel's signs illuminating a sickly path ahead for her. The van was no longer there. Park must have whisked her friend away with it. It looked as if she might have to walk home from here. She'd do just that…right after she caught her breath. She threw herself onto the ground, leaning her sore body against the wall of what looked to be a pawn shop.

Brawls required a completely different experience than one would need in a knife fight. While it was true that she abstained from drink for almost her entire life, she had been thrown into a furball by much of Olive Tree's drunken shenanigans before. Talbain hitting on the wrong girl, Alphonse getting into petty squabbles with other squad leaders, Chloe hitting on the wrong guy, so on and so forth. Back then, though, she was fighting alongside her pack.

Tonight, outside of Park's one KO, she had only her own fangs to rely on. She had been doing just that for several years now, but each time she had to bare those fangs, the knowledge that she would have been doing so with her family if she hadn't screwed it all up continued to drape itself over her shoulders, weighing deeply and darkly on her soul.

She produced a crushed carton of cigarettes from one of her pockets and rifled through its contents. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found that a few of them, and the lighter that she had stashed inside, thankfully survived the beatdown. She carefully pinched one out of the carton, and raised it to her mouth. The lighter followed suit.

Its flame barely touched the tip of the cigarette before a drop of water fell from above and extinguished it.She looked up and squinted.

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me."

She only managed that much before the rest of its fellows followed suit. She groaned, and slumped back against the wall. She watched as the other people on the street began to hurry back inside the shelter of the casino, or into their parked cars. She couldn't be bothered to move. A stray dog like her didn't need shelter. Through rain, through snow, through ash, through dust, she had braved it all, and alone.

Little surprise that nothing had changed. The only thanks wild dogs like her got were, at best, to be ignored by the general populace. It was as good as it got, and she was fine with it.

She let out another tired sigh. No smokes, no car, no shelter, and nobody. It was almost funny. Just a whole bunch of 'no's. She spat out the cigarette between her lips.

"You know," a voice that she would have thought long left the mess of a scene slid through the rushing rain. "I'm pretty sure there was a way to do that where you didn't need to let them beat you into a heap."

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me." She let out a laugh that sounded as if it was unsure that it should even exist. She brushed her hair back from her good eye.

Park stood over her, her features shadowed by the umbrella she held above her head. The neon lights barely grazed her face. Dagger leaned her head back against the brick wall, and said nothing more. She fought because it was the only thing she was good at. Any other song or dance routine was never part of her repertoire. Violence was her answer, and it had always proven to be a good one. A wardog like her didn't need the talk. She didn't need anyone.

"But, it worked out in the end. She's back in the van. Thanks. Really."

A hand came into the view of her good eye. The wolf looked at it, then at its owner, almost incredulous. She hesitated, then clicked her tongue. "Dammit." She caught the woman's hand, and pushed herself up to her feet. She brushed herself down, vacating small streams of water from her suit jacket and her shirt, like a dog attempting to shake its wet fur dry.

She took a deep breath and straightened up. "Let's get you both home, then."



The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
Being The Smartest In The Room Usually Means Your Missing The Obvious
LOCATION:
West District
DATE:
April 19th, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Tak, Hiachi ( miki miki ), Dante ( Haze- Haze- )
Being The Smartest In The Room Usually Means Your Missing The Obvious

Squinting his eyes he tried to stare through the darkness, his eyes attempting to part through the cloak that came from the lack of streetlights outside the dingy little bar. As if somehow he would suddenly be gifted with the powers of night-vision to spot Dante first. Sadly such a thing didn’t happen, and it was only when he heard the man’s voice did featureless shadows suddenly start to shape into an actual person, as if Dante had somehow taken off a camouflage.

Compared to Dante’s quickly-shaping smirk upon seeing him, Tak’s expression turned dour in response, almost like a reflection, the space between his eyebrows shaking as he was preemptively expecting something to come out of Dante’s mouth. He was right of course, he knew Dante too well, and Dante knew him just about the same. He always did the same thing, inviting Dante out, then acting pissed when he actually shows his face, as if he was in the wrong for actually taking him seriously.

“You’re sure doin’ a lot of damn complainin’ for someone who’s getting treated. Goes to show where my generosity gets me, huh?” Tak cocked his head back with a sneer at Dante’s grievances, unapologetic in the slightest, “Not my fault you ain’t got anything better going on and rushed over here. Learn how to take some scenic routes or somethin’! Life ain’t all about point A and point B!” He returned Dante’s shoulder bump with his own weak shove in an attempt to really put some weight behind his words. It probably wouldn’t be a surprise if it had escalated to a play fight, if it wasn’t for someone else being in the audience.

Tak only gave Hiachi a corner glance out of his eye in recognition that she was still there by his side, casually putting a hand on the back of his neck and turning his focus back to the bar, “I decided to bring her along for a bit of extra firepower. We might actually stand a chance now,” he spoke vaguely as his focus fiercely narrowed.

Maybe Dante was right about the bar being full of assassins.

“C’mon, let’s get movin’. It’s about time for the main event.” Tak continued to avoid giving an explanation of what was going on, as if everyone else understood the methods of his madness. He braced his forearm against the door to push it open as its hinges creaked, the wood scraping across the cracked burgundy tiles.

As his off-color white rubber soles stepped within the interior, there was a physical change in the mood. This was the time in the movies that the jukebox would scratch the record as heads turned. It seemed almost every eye in the bar had paused what they were doing to gaze upon the disheveled man, from the group of tattooed bikers who sat around the bar, to the pair of twins who had both shaved their heads bald and compensated with a flowing beard, and the man who sat by himself in an expensive suit and fancy wristwatch that didn’t fit the cheap atmosphere.

Hell, even the cross-eyes man with the big ass nose had stopped leaning back on his seat to pay attention.

There was silence as the bartender polished a glass with a rag, giving the same anticipatory stare as everyone else. What the hell was this? Had Tak really dragged his friends along to take part in a massive bar fight?

“Well I’ll be! Whadda a sight for sore eyes!” A thick southern accent rode through the tension, accompanied by the sounds of cowboy spurs as thick cowhide boots strode across the ground. They were accented by a pair of bright white cowboy chaps, golden stars embedded into the thick leather, going up to his waist to the giant belt he wore with a bull-head buckle. A matching white vest hung above a black long-sleeve shirt, and finally finishing with a massive ten gallon hat that almost reached all the way to the roof, standing on top of his graying hair.

He eyes Tak with a cocky grin, hooking his fingers in his belt as he stopped in front of the taller ruffian, looking up at him stoutly, “If it ain't tha biggest loser in trivia history! No-Nuffin Numskull Takakazu!”

No-Nuffin Numskull glared at him, his lips up turning into something that matched a feral growl as venom dripped from his fangs as he had choice but to address the man.

“Melvin Mcclain…” He seethed, hands forming into fists as his nails dug into his palms.

“Uhp uhp uhp! That’s 'Doctor' Melvin Mcclain to ya, partner.” Melvin made sure to correct him, giving a friendly pat on his chest, as Tak’s teeth gritted together so hard it sounded like stones being rubbed against each other.

“So, what are ya doin’ here feller? SURELY ya ain’t tryna play trivia again, not with your streak!” The man questioned his presence, placing a hand on the brim of his hat with a small shake of his head, “Do I need to remind ya again?” He said with a snap of his fingers, “Barkeep, tally up his score for me again will ya?!”

The barkeep barely held back a sigh as his posture dropped a bit, clearly not having too much joy in responding to Melvin’s order, but resigned to it nonetheless, “36 games, 36 losses. Last place every time,” he robotically responded, as if he had said it thousands of times.

“HEEEEEHAWHAWHAW!’ Melvin immediately burst out laughing, slapping his knee as his portly stomach jiggled as he chortled from his gut, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “It gets funnier every time I hear it! HEHAWHAWHAW!”

“Yeah, go ahead and keep laughin’. You ain’t gonna be doin’ it for much longer.”

Tak spoke with certainty, the anger he showcased earlier had dissipated and was replaced by overflowing confidence, enough to cause Melvin to stop laughing and turn his attention upward to look at Tak’s face. What he saw was no longer a brainless brute who kept coming around to be publicly embarrassed at his lack of knowledge, but the clarity of a man who had gone a long journey of self reflection, a hue of enlightenment in his pupilless eyes.

“I’ll admit. I’ve had my ass handed to me every time in the solo category. Ain’t never stood a chance,” Tak crossed his arms, a rare admittance of his faults that would naturally come with a caveat; the growing grin on his face showcased that clearly.

“... But tonight ain’t solos, is it?”

Melvin’s fingers went back to his waist as his cockiness from before faded away to an aggressive glower, “What are you tryin’ to insinuate, feller?” He asked, a glint of curiosity glossing across his eyes.


“Heh. Say your prayers, asshole! Today is the day your 87 game win streak ends, because I bought a pair of secret weapons to bring your ass down!” Tak proclaimed, spreading his arms aside to step aside and introduce his two partners in crime, the trump cards that would finally change the trajectory of trivia night for the future of all trivia lovers everywhere.


… Wait, they were here for TRIVIA!?

 
Artemis Mac Naught
CS Link
SCENE MUSIC:
Checklist
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 | December 15th 2020
LOCATION:
Goldshire Streets, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Missy, Eric ( Roda the Red Roda the Red )
All I Want For Christmas Is Your Money

Eat a fucking dick

At least that’s what she wanted to scream at some of these suckers. She’d never met a group with less intelligence and more attitude, except maybe some of her old bosses. She didn’t even need to activate her potential for some of these idiots, her skill was more than enough when it came down to the average joes. It was almost a shame no one with actual skill tended to play when they weren’t the dealer.

She had a funny feeling that shouting that at these losers would wind up with her needing to run for her life and that just wasn’t a bet she was willing to make. Instead she avoided showing her emotions as she put on her best customer service facade. Out with Missy and in with Juliet. She flipped her last card over signing the defeat of the next player in her circle.

“Whooopsyyyyy, it looks like I win this one!”

She slapped her hands together in a clap before cupping them together and reaching forwards for her riches to be tossed to her. The men around her may grumble and whine but it wasn’t like they weren’t all getting their kicks from her pretty damsel act. She pulled her hands back filled with her newly acquired amestriyen. If she wanted to get any amount of decent coin for Christmas she’d need to pay her dues early.

She looked around seeing the dudes around her all hyping each other up for another round trying to taunt each other with friendly barbs. Unfortunately they were starting to lack the will to go on with the groups pockets being drained a bit already meaning she needed to reel in some new blood. She pocked the money in her little side coin purse before springing up without warning.

With a glance up and down at the people passing by she began to note new marks and prepare to reel. The average joes were best for quick money since they tended to play only as much as they could afford to lose, which meant she could just scam em and let em run. Luck would have it she saw a little trio of good marks passing by, one with highlights and plainest looking winter clothes looked like he could stand to be a few coins lighter. She cupped her hands around her mouth before shouting in a register higher and more energetic than her natural tone could ever be.

“HEY! Do you wanna come play us? I betcha you’re realllllly good at games right?”

 
ELEANORE
CS Link
SCENE:
{=Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes=}
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
TIME:
2019 {Pre-Arc 1}
PARTICIPANTS:
Pei { thebigfella thebigfella }
Doused Flames Bring Lost Ashes
The thing about most “unstoppable forces” is that they are only as unstoppable as two variables. The first variable is context. A large boulder rolling down a hill is “unstoppable” in that the only things that are there to stop it are some dead trees and barely grown saplings, maybe an especially unlucky member of the wildlife that didn’t move out of the way in time. The same boulder pushed off a ramp into a city garage will not reach the same distance, even if it causes more monetary damage and several court cases where your lawyer attempts to get you off on a sudden heat induced spurt of insanity.

The other variable is how many things bother trying to stop it. It’s easy to write off an unstoppable force as purely unstoppable, but if you had to, you could probably rearrange the rocks, the trees, tie them together with some vines and the more bendable twigs, cushion the whole thing with plenty of dead leaves, with a makeshift barricade you could stop that boulder halfway down the hill. That’s a lot of work, time and energy put in to something just to stop one boulder. That doesn’t change that it’s a possibility to do. It just means most people would rather step out of the way.

The guards understood this fact. One of them could shout at her. Voice the concerns that they knew everyone else was feeling. But then you risked either being completely ignored, or worse, actually getting Eleanore’s attention, and just because everyone was feeling the same way doesn’t mean any of them would be willing to back you up once you run your mouth. Better to let someone who Eleanore knows or respects or whatever goes on in that mind that makes her listen to someone to raise the topic, and then hopefully you’ll find something out later on down the grapevine without the confrontation. The new punk, however, seemed to be someone willing to put a lot more work against a boulder.

Pei had decided to actually walk into Eleanore’s path, and managed to also enter her vision. Both of these would be mistakes for anyone else, and at the time, Eleanore didn’t know that it wasn’t a mistake for this kid. She kept walking, showing no signs of changing her predetermined path just because of something as simple as “some unknown force is physically in her way”. He seemed intent on not moving, and Eleanore couldn’t care less. It wasn’t going to be her problem if he didn’t move. It wasn’t even her problem when he began, quite stupidly, talking around his chewing gum.

“Hey, old hag,”

Boring start, cheap insult if he had some problem with her. Eleanore did bother looking him in the eyes, not for that, but because what he finished speaking with was so much more interesting.

“Sponsor me.”

It was probably not the first mental takeaway Pei expected Eleanore to have during that stretch of eye contact, that first thought of “Great, he’s not a Phoenix, I need to go easy on him.”

Her second thoughts were something along the lines of these guards being so lackluster that an unaffiliated civilian of any kind, even someone trying in what Eleanore saw as a pathetic attempt to join them, was just lounging around outside of HQ with no real sense of purpose.

{The idea that the strange face of HQ, being covered with working beavers and toylike construction equipment, and the idea of this snaggletoothed bum, had not been related in her mind yet, and it was likely things would’ve gone worse for everyone if she had, in this second, connected them.}​

Her third thought was "Me? Giving anyone a sponsorship? He doesn't know anything."

She hadn’t stopped walking, from the time those standing in front of HQ first spotted her to now. She took another step, and then two more, sighing ever so slightly for the audience of herself alone as her footsteps multiplied. The logical thing might’ve been to talk, figure out the situation to any extent, and then act, but logic must’ve gotten washed away in the hurricane. Eleanore had no intent on stopping now, even for someone who felt so self important to try to stop her, let alone demand her sponsorship. Neither of her would give it.

Eleanore walked forwards, walked through where Pei had just been standing, and upwards, taking a step up from the road to the sidewalk, walking past the guards with a flick of her head backwards. “Sort him out” was the obvious message, Eleanore thinking that this was just a minor reminder of the group’s job and not any sort of upset in the slightest. This series of actions was only possible, of course, because Eleanore also had split from Eleanore, ran up to Pei, gripped him by the shoulder with one arm, and in a mixture of a fling and a shove, sent him sprawling against the damaged roadway with a single, clean, and admittedly more forceful than necessary motion, in the series of about a second.

The cloned Eleanore stepped out of the way of the Eleanore who still intended to enter the HQ, turning to Pei and noting with just a bit of satisfaction that the bubblegum’s bubble had not survived the fall. Hopefully he was still conscious, but she didn’t really care one way or the other. If he wasn’t after something like that, he had no business of even trying to stand in front of HQ.

”Go home.”

With the situation squared away, at least in Eleanore’s understanding of it, the one standing over Pei vanished, turning a bit transparent and then fading away like an image burnt into a TV screen finally recovering, while Eleanore prime walked up to the doors of HQ, opening one normally as if the building was just the DMV and no theatrics were required or had just happened. Real business awaited her.

 
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