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

[Can Abyss]

Image by Divon/Koi

Verta Kraujas
Scene: Feed the Oracle
Location: North District - Dodgetown - Blood Works Clinic
Date: Current Date
Participants: First come, first served. All patients welcomed.
Current Patient: Divon

☆—---------------------☆

"In here," she growls. Her voice drifting through the opened door separating the clinic from the waiting room. Verta sits on the small, basic rolling computer stool chair in front of her laptop used for her clinic's 'records.' Looking more haggard than normal, her frizzy black hair is pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. The bags under her eyes are so dark, they almost seem purple under the bright fluorescent lights bouncing off the stark white paint of the sterilized room. Her clothes are clean but wrinkled, though her lab coat seems new and unwrinkled. She wears a pair of white crocs that have never left the vicinity of the clinic and are sterilized when the clinic is cleaned.

"Are you sick or something?" She asks, not even trying to look at her patient or caring if he had even entered the clinic. In the middle of the clinic is a medical chair/bed, upright in chair mode. It is covered with a plastic protector and a large sheet of paper on top for added ease to upkeep cleanliness. "Take a seat on the bed here and I'll talk to you in a minute. I need to finish up a thought I have." She starts highlighting a couple of items on the laptop screen.After a moment more of scrolling, she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Someone's messing with me," she mutters under her breath after highlighting a few more items on the laptop's screen. She then directs her attention to her new patient. "Have you read the flyer or need a breakdown of how I work before we go to the payment and treatment?"

 

[BriiAngelic]

Jackson Reese Alessi

CS Link

SCENE MUSIC:

Platonic

LOCATION:

Peyton's Old Apartment, East District

DATE:

Post-Arc 3 || Two Weeks Later

PARTICIPANTS:

Jackson, Peyton ( Coyote Hart )

Crash and Burn

He didn’t mind being threatened?

What did that even mean? He’d always known the other was a glutton for punishment, especially with how he’d respond to Jackson’s own sharp tongue. Yet he thought that was there was an understanding between them. A recognition of closeness even through the harsh words. After all wasn’t that how they all were? Rough edges scrapping against each other praying not to cut to deep and make an irreversible mistake.

Was his own perception juist completely wrong? Had he once again burned bridges he could never remake? Or was he a fool in the beginning for expecting any sort of harmony between the two dramatic forces that where himself and Peyton? He couldn’t move to react as he saw his friend down a handful of pills. It couldn’t be good to be having that many but as usual he said nothing.

As he was pulled into the embrace he just imagined what he even expected to come from this. He hated seeing Peyton like this. Somber didn’t fit his cheerful and bright friend in any measure. Hell he’d even thought it annoying with how everpresently loud the other was, but he’d rather that then whatever the hell the game they were playing now was.

He clawed at the back of Peyton as the other threw out idea after idea on how to maintain… what was he trying to maintain? They weren’t coworkers anymore. He thought they might be friend’s but would a friend go off any join a gang without the other?

Who was he kidding. This was like with Bash all over again.

Only it wasn’t. Bash wouldn’t ever let anyone control him, and Peyton crumbled like paper.

So then it didn’t matter did it?

Whether strong or weak or moral or not the serpents just kept taking.

He dug his fingernails deep as he tried to scratch as deep as he could to leave his marks.

If Peyton was going to leave his scars then Jackson could leave his own as well.

“Bullshit. Central huh? Where gang fights break out every dime a dozen. You’ll make time? Like how you snuck off for days before like a little rat? Why huh? You want to have your cake and eat it to? It’s easier just to listen to what you’re told? If you wanted to be a brat about it there were plenty of other ways you could go about it. You don’t give a shit about your life, even if you’re blind through your rose colored glasses you should still know their word doesn’t mean shit.”

 

[azenva]

KAZUE KANEKO

CS Link

SCENE:

[Thawtless Dial]

TIME:

Pre-Arc 3, December 24th, 2021

LOCATION:

Kazue’s Apartment, East District

PARTICIPANTS:

Charmy Devlin, Kazue Kaneko

THAWTLESS DIAL

Kazue was tired. The whole day could have been summarized with a drawn-out sigh. The text, the shopping trip, the outside, the game, the milk, the call…It all blended together to a frigid soup of entirely expected disappointment.

Of course this would happen.

This kind of day used to draw emotions. Anger, frustration, the feeling of red. A surge of energy, a desire to break things, to do something, anything. An idea of “this isn’t fair.” Kazue was a fossil now, and hardly had the energy to do so much as sometimes groan in mild annoyance if it was especially major and keep going. The desire to hang up and pass out right now was strong.

But Charmy did something incredible. Kazue would have been stunned into silence had she not already been silent to begin with. To call the revelation out from left field would be inaccurate—out from orbit was closer.

Charmy was finally stringing together multiple coherent sentences.

Oh, and there was also the thing about her having a child somewhere.

“What.”

Maybe strike out the coherent part. Maybe the alcoholic was mixing in some Serpent product. Charmy and children was a combination that neither side deserved to experience. Even if this child was real, Kazue did not expect it to be currently alive. Potentials weren’t genetic, but maybe the child had inherited Charmy’s ability to attract cars anyways. If it dodged that pitfall, it would have to survive presumably living on the streets of New Oasis and maybe being raised by Charmy. Neither path seemed survivable.

Kazue released a long, long-suffering sigh. So it was the usual.

“And you want me to help how.”

@BluEndings

 

[FabulousTrash]

Kanna Katsura & Cleo Silva

SCENE:

The Welcome Wagon

LOCATION:

East District, Dragon HQ

PARTICIPANTS:

Dorian, Jessamine, Keith, Lloyd, Mirza, Pavel,
Ruriko, Renjiro, Kanna, Silva

The Welcome Wagon

Kanna stared at her reflection in the mirror.

It had been a few weeks since the events in Central. And somehow, they managed not to destroy a piece of infrastructure this time. Well, mostly. The office building where she squared off against a member of the Phoenixes was in shambles.

Dressed in a tank top and shorts, the injuries Kanna sustained that day were still visible. While most of the minor scratches and bruises were gone, some of the more serious injuries were still present, mainly the stab wound in her leg. Bandages were wrapped around her lower leg, covering up the wound.

After the Dragons returned to the HQ, she took a few days to rest and recover, while also making sure others did the same. Things have been quiet since, something the Jack welcomed.

Kanna took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom of her apartment. She was the only one home as Kasumi was out doing… something. She wasn’t entirely sure, since she wasn’t home when Kanna woke up. Picking up her phone, she opened up her calendar, scrolling through it to see if anything was going on. Eventually, she stopped as her eyes noticed a particular event scheduled. And it was happening right now.

She wasted no time getting dressed, opting for clothes that covered up her arms and legs. Her hair was styled differently, as opposed to her usual ponytail. Instead, it was braided. Kanna made sure she had everything she needed, before heading out the door.

[...]

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence in a day for Cleo Silva to bounce between members of the Azure Dragons, wherever they may be, with unrestrained inquiries regarding the whereabouts of one Ruriko Ikeda.

On one particular day, about a week ago, said inquiries led him to a basic convenience store on the corner where he spied her, through the window, with a black-clad fellow whose name he couldn’t pin despite an itch of recognition squirming about his brain. Together, the two of them browsed the greeting cards section while Silva cracked theoretical jokes.

What propelled him to lurk out of sight like a creep, one could only guess, but that’s what he did. And he recorded the whole thing with live-stream enthusiasm.

It wound up being a forty-five minute video consisting of rapid, blurry snap-zooms on Ruriko’s face; spicy references to his and Mirza’s relationship from a time not so long ago; and poorly executed voice-overs of Pavel’s dialogue whenever the man opened his mouth. Around the forty-five minute mark is when an incoming call from his mother, always a pleasure, stole his attention, and he lost the trio.

Following that day, Silva did some investigating. Why was Ruriko looking at greeting cards? Who were they for? What relevance was Mirza and Brain Itch Man? And when would he be receiving one?

Except… he wouldn’t be.

Realizing this, Silva took matters into his own hands. His investigation led him to a Dragon rookie whom he discovered had received one of those special little cards from Ruriko, and he cornered said rookie with his wits. By that, I mean he took the rookie out for drinks and commenced an interesting journey into the South District. A wild night of trouble, but it ended with them both alive at the Silva Household where they told Javi the whole story. The next morning, Mama Silva fed them well, then Silva sent the rookie on his merry way.

As for the greeting card, Silva had masked an interrogation behind laughter and indirection questioning, and managed to get the details from the rookie. The greeting card wasn’t a greeting card, at all, but an invitation. An invitation to a party on a specific day.

And that day was today.

Racing down the sidewalk in a pair of glimmering, cyan rollerblades, Silva led a swirling stream of thousands of cyan specks—pixels swiped from the digital screens of billboards, cellphones, and televisions in passing.

In one hand, he clutched a bag of pickle-flavored chips. In the other, he twirled a butterfly knife in rhythm with the music bumping in his ears. He was enroute to Dragon HQ, weaving through civilians and letting the faces blur past.

Only once did he stop, and that was to admire a box of stray kittens with their mother outside of an old bookstore. Taking out his phone, Silva snapped several pictures of the feline family. “Hola, gatitos!” His voice was loud, as he couldn’t hear himself. “Quieren ir a una fiesta!?”

Asking the question, Silva handed his phone to a makeshift hand of pixels that manifested beside him, and he lifted the box of kittens with both hands, handling them gently. Nonetheless, the mother seemed stressed, yet too tired to react.

Not far behind him was Kanna, walking on the same side of the street as him. She had on one of those small backpacks that had room for all the essential items and not much else. In one of her hands, she carried a plastic bag filled with more snacks and drinks that she got at a convenience store.

She glanced up, quickening her pace to catch up to Silva, her free hand reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. She gave him a small smile as she waited for him to take off his headphones before speaking.

“Are you headed to the HQ as well?”

Silva glanced down at Kanna over his shoulder, blinking at her through green-tinted lenses until recognition lit his features with glee. “Hola, mujeeer!! You are going to HQ?”

Kanna nodded, her eyes gazing over the box of cats Silva was currently holding. Her eyebrow raised slightly.

“You don't plan on bringing those with you, do you?”

A quizzical expression swept Silva’s face when he realized he couldn’t hear the Dragon’s Jack; though, it was hidden behind his mask, and only his body language served to express his confusion before awareness brought bubbling laughter up his throat.

He handed the box of kittens off—they now rested atop a levitating surface constructed of his pixels—and removed his earbuds, stowing them into the pocket of his pants.

“You gonna ‘ave to speak louder than that, mujer, hahahahaa! How are you?” He left her no time to respond before taking the box of kittens in his arms again, at which point he tilted it for her to see inside. “Mira~ In my country- mi país- we calls them gatitos… Silva’s gonna give them to Ruri.”

Truth be told, Kanna didn’t mind much. Pets were welcome at the HQ, and they had their fair share of strays that were taken in and cared for by the Dragons. The Jack matched Silva’s pace, walking beside him as the pair proceeded to the Dragon HQ.

The walk didn’t take much longer, as they found themselves soon at the grand entrance of the compound. Kanna took the lead, opening the door to the main building and let Silva enter first, following right behind him. The girl working at the front desk glanced up at the sound of the door shutting, immediately standing up when she realized who it was. Her upper body lowered as she greeted Kanna with a small bow. Kanna returned the gesture with a bow of her own.

“Miss Kanna, welcome. How can I help?”
“Just here for the special ‘event’ going on in one of our meeting rooms.”

The receptionist’s lips curled into a smile, nodding as she sat back down. Her eyes looked over to Silva, giving the veteran a small wave.

“Of course. I assume you know your way.”
“Mhm, thank you.”

The Jack waited for Silva before leading him to one of the elevators, punching the third floor. Moments later, the elevator dinged, signaling that they had arrived at their destination. Kanna led Silva down a few hallways before they arrived at the meeting room that had been reserved ahead of time.

What Ruriko and the others that organized this meet-and-greet had planned, Kanna had no idea. Nor was she sure she wanted to know. But at the very least, someone had to make sure they didn’t do anything too crazy. She gave Silva another glance, before reaching for the door handle, pushing it open and announced their presence.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

Slinking through the door behind Kanna, Silva’s eyes locked immediately on Ruriko. “Silva es never sorry,” he mumbled with lover’s awe, mesmerized. Meanwhile…

Kanna scanned the room as she placed the bag of snacks and drinks she brought on the table. There were definitely plenty of new faces. While she was aware of every new member that joins the gang, it wasn’t always possible to meet them in person for various reasons. She gave the new rookies a small smile and a wave, before navigating towards Ruriko, speaking quietly to her.

“I hope you don't mind. I was just curious as to what was happening.”

“Mi amor,” Silva invaded the two women’s space with his box of stray kittens, urging Ruriko to peek inside. “Para ti.” The room had become filled with his pixels. They drifted idly through the air—intangible freckles of cyan light.

Beann WhiskeyMarten Roda the Red simj26 Jexon Whells tityanya Doctor Llamabean

 

[Coyote Hart]

PEYTON XIONG

CS Link

SCENE:

Confidental Motivations

LOCATION:

Taka's Apartment, North District

TIME:

Post-Arc 3 || July 1st, 2022

PARTICIPANTS:

Peyton, Takahiro

CONFIDENTAL MOTIVATIONS

Taka was right. The two of them hadn't met up to talk about Raph. And so with only a bit of delighted squirming, Peyton accepted Taka's kiss, and reciprocated by crawling across the couch and sitting between Taka's legs on the couch. His diminutive size meant that if he slumped down into the couch a little, he could rest his head on Taka's chest, the warmth from his body soaking into him. Simply pressing their bodies up against each other wasn't going to be enough after all.

"Fighting games work great for me! I love them!" Peyton said. He took the controller that Takahiro passed him and tested it out a little. When he played fighting games, Peyton was used to using retro controllers, yet the controller that Taka gave him seemed to fit in his hand regardless. He watched intently on the screen as Taka opened up a game, although halfway through the process of starting a match, he paused to ask Peyton a question.

Honestly, Peyton was the last person anybody should go to for validation. Due to the potential miring his mind, his sense of empathy had all but been shot and dead. Even Taka's expression, which displayed his emotions starkly, barely registered anything to Peyton. He knew that Taka was forlorn in some way, but couldn't connect why.

Not that it mattered. How could Peyton think that Taka was boring? The cocaine Peyton had ingested earlier had metabolized into peak high, and a continuous rush of good feelings coursed his way through his body. And fighting games-- when Peyton had been in the Dragons, he and another Dragon, who was now deceased, hung out by playing retro fighting games found in the dumpster. It hardly mattered that Taka wasn't mean.

"Nah, I'm having lots of fun!" Peyton exclaimed. He nuzzled back onto Taka and set his controller down on his lap so that he could reach up and pull at Taka's cheeks in an effort to wipe that sad look off his face. "I mean, I'd love it if you were more mean, but this is good too! I have a friend with benefits who only bullies me in bed, so a rivalry is mean enough! And I can have fun with normal stuff! So you're great!"

"I'm also happy that you're having fun. A lot of people are just angry with me when they're hanging out," Peyton added. An emotional toll on those whom he interacted with often occurred due to Peyton's love for receiving insults. He was glad to have someone to hang out normally with, cause sometimes the hate did get overwhelming.

Peyton pulled Taka's face down so that he could plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, then he released the taller man. He picked his controller back up and turned his attention back to the TV, "Alright, ready? Cause I'm gonna crush you!"

Slav

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

Return To Sender

TIME:

Post-Arc 2

LOCATION:

Hotel Gaul, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Hiachi Ito, Passeri Park

Return To Sender

"Hmmm..." Passeri pondered, a fry pursed against her lip. Was this really what she wanted to ask? She supposed she understood. There were still days when she sat and wondered what Caio thought, wherever he was, about who he was and what she'd become. She could understand that much, the desire to know what one's family thought.

"Nothing crazy, I guess? He said you were smart... But then I think complained about how you can be so stubborn, despite that? Nothing really crazy, as far as I can recall." The idol tried and tried to scrape through her brain for anything more. Memory had always been a strong point of hers, but only when she'd made the note to remember in the first place. Until today, Kenki's stray ramblings about his little sister had been just that, stray ramblings, so she'd hardly made a habit of committing them to memory.

"I think he mentioned that you were super weak to elbow drops, too...? Is that code for something? He didn't actually do elbow drops on you, did he?" She knew that siblings had a habit of roughhousing, but she couldn't imagine it ever going that far.

"Normal sibling stuff, basically." Not that she knew. Not really. As much as she thought of Caio as family, she'd never shared a roof with a brother or sister, forced to share toys and eat at the same table. "What about you? Do you have any fun secrets I can throw at him? I'm sure I could really freak him out for you if I whipped out some knowledge from his dark past, right?"

miki​

 

[Beann]

RURIKO & RENJIRO IKEDA

SCENE:

The Welcome Wagon

LOCATION:

East District, Dragon HQ

PARTICIPANTS:

A lot of dragons

THE WELCOME WAGON

Renjiro remained completely still, almost unphased as Pavel conducted his brief assessment on him. The only change in his expression was when he asked if he was in a boy band. The young Ikeda tilted his head slightly, "no, but I do play music." Meanwhile, Ruriko tried her best to not show annoyance towards Pavel's words. She knew he'd continue to jab at her so long as she reacted to it. Frowning, she turned her back to him and poured herself some tea. "Thanks! I will add protein shakes to the shopping list." Renjiro smiled, making a mental note of Pavel's suggestion (which he will probably forget about).

At the sound of a knock, both Ikedas turned their attention to the door. There was a glimpse of a man but the door immediately shut afterwards, forcing the two to blink in confusion. "Who…?" Ruriko shook her head, assuming whoever it was had the wrong room or something. Maybe she should have taped the same invitation card to the door to let everyone who was invited know that this was the correct place. Moments later though, the door opened once more, revealing two of the many rookies she invited. "Hey, Lloyd. Dorian." Ruriko nodded to both of them, making it obvious that she had to do some research on them to get the invitations to the right people.

"Name's Ruriko Ikeda. That's Pavel…uhhh…what's your last name again? Doesn't matter. And that's Renjiro." The dragon veteran pointed at her brother, cueing him to wave and greet the two. "Hello!" Good, good. This was good. Already two potential friends for Renjiro to mingle with. Ruriko nodded to herself in a bit of pride before looking back up at the door, revealing Mirza with the expected food. She grinned at the sight, happy that she could at least count on one of the two other veterans present. "Thanks for bringing the snacks, Mirza. Should be expecting a handful more — I dropped by a lot of homes with invitations so we'll see who shows up." Ruriko shrugged, reaching over the table to pick a single grape from the fruit platter.

Just as she was about to plop the grape into her mouth, another rookie had arrived. This one was straight into the point too. Ruriko took a moment to actually put the grape in her mouth, chew a few times before swallowing and then answered Jessamine's question. "Technically it wasn't breaking in if the physical structure wasn't disturbed but that's besides the point —"

Another rookie with red hair entered, cutting off Ruriko's line of thought. He seemed unsure of himself — nervous. She squinted slightly at him, wondering if this was his first official Dragon meeting. She quickly brushed off the thought, "glad to have ya, Keith. Help yourself to some snacks and tea," she gestured to the table before turning back to Jessamine. "Anyways, the reason I called you all here is —"

Ruriko was cut short again as she caught a glimpse of their Jack — and Silva trailing right behind. Why were they here?? She didn't invite them! Ruriko glanced over at Mirza and then to Pavel but there was no indication that they invited them either. She didn't mind Silva being here but Kanna was leadership — which meant they couldn't do anything fun. Her shoulders sagged a bit as Kanna approached her, forcing her to shrug. "It's fine. It's just a little thing for —" Ruriko perked up as Silva slid in between the two women, presenting her with a box of kittens, with the mama cat too. She blinked in surprise as her hands unconsciously accepted the box, "oh – wow! Thanks, Silva. They're very cute." She couldn't help but crack a smile as she looked down at the sleeping kittens. A few more in her apartment wouldn't hurt.

"Hi Silva!" Renjiro waved at Ruriko's friend, remembering him and the other Silva he had met before. He didn't have a preference between the two Silvas but he did notice this one was closer to his sister so he must be a good person. The younger Ikeda stepped in on the other side of Ruriko, peering into the box as well. "How cute," he smiled as he reached in to pick up one of the kittens, letting the sleepy feline crawl up his chest and on to his shoulder.

"Oh, right. Kanna this is my younger brother, Renjiro. He recently joined so that's kinda the whole point of — actually I'll just announce it out loud." With the box still in her hands, Ruriko turned towards the general group of rookies, "I'm sure you're all wondering why you were invited here and if it wasn't obvious, you're all rookies — well, I guess it isn't all too obvious if you all don't know each other — but that's the point! This little get together is pretty much for you rookies to make connections with other rookies; Kanna and Silva were rookies with me," she gestured to the two next to her, "and they've helped me out in more ways than one. So this is a perfect opportunity to… I don't know…make friends?"

Slav WhiskeyMarten Roda the Red simj26 Jexon Whells tityanya Doctor Llamabean FabulousTrash Coyote Hart

 

[thebigfella]

Areith Rozárie

CS Link

SCENE:

Murder Above The Coffin

LOCATION:

Abandoned Church, North District

TIME:

June 8th, 2022 || Post-Arc 3

PARTICIPANTS:

Deirest, Areith

Murder Above The Empty Coffin

Cease your fingers. Still the melody.

The pipes still sang with their last wind before their lungs went empty. Manicured, sharpened nails rose away from the keys; cloth shuffled against the fabric of the stool.

Raise your head. Steel your mind.

Stand up, for you stand upon the pathway toward salvation.

Your crimson eyes blinked open as you again find yourself placed back into reality where you belong, in the land needing your guidance. You played your music towards the heavens to be paired with the trumpets of angels, and in response, they had you a treasure. A divine gift that must be protected at all costs.

You turned to face them, hands clasped on your chest, clutching around your rosary in a silent prayer of gratitude. Soaked in viscera, filthiness, and bile was the embodiment of His love. Through the vile exterior, the layers that withheld the divine prophecy. An apple that had fallen from the sky and was devoured by worms before it could be plucked was not meant to be eaten, but with His grace, any miracle as possible. A mind corrupted by the terrible world that could be purified and reborn, a rebirth of mind and body would bring upon the revitalization and reincarnation of the world and its soul.

You understood it all; He directed it towards you in dreams, His messages, and now you finally sat where you could make His decorations into reality. His test that He knew that you could pass. That you WOULD pass.

It was your duty to herald them into the new world, to guide them ahead for the path destined.

Your hands reached forward, undisturbed, unphased; you hooked your arm around her neck while your other around her back, fingers finding themselves at her shoulder and waist, and then you softly pulled her in. Her head against your hearts, they dance in patterns, a moving succession as blood moves through your veins. The soft sounds of your breathing as your lungs inflate before the air slips through the slits within your neck.

“You are a gift,” you assured her, rubbing your hand across her back as you placed your forehead against hers. Boring into her eyes, bestial and untamed. They had yet to be grounded back to Earth from the heavens.

“They’ve stripped your wings and brought you to us,” you whispered to her, “The time for you to find yourself once more, to find your purpose again. This is your rebirth.”

The smell of iron and gastric juices did not deter your smile nor the grime underneath your fingers. You saw her for what she was. What she would.

“You are our Savior, and we are nothing but your servants, put here to guide the one who would rise again. The survivor, timeless and immortal, given His gift to shape humanity.”

You unleashed her from your grasp, letting your hands glide to her shoulders, but you did not break contact with her eyes; you would let her see your determination, your certainty of His guidance.

“This world is yours. You will be the one to save it.”

 

[miki]

Little Red

CS Link

scene:

A Daughter’s Eulogy

location:

South District

date:

2021 | Post Hurricane

participants:

Red, Jericho

A Daughter's Eulogy

Breathless heaves of air escaped her mouth, gathering in tiny vaporized clouds above her mouth. Her eyes fell to him—the crimson skin drawing attention like a whirlpool. It was effortless, though the way her head dropped made it so she wouldn’t be able to lift it again.

Red recognized him—or perhaps she did not. She saw a lot of people as she passed the world by. In flashes, corners of her consciousness, she had seen a semblance of this trait before.

She could only stare. Her fear was mostly masked by ire. Frustration that there was something she perceived as more powerful than herself. But her fear wasn’t strong enough for that. Despite being a visual anomaly, the man before her had brought her comfort. At least one person had stopped and extended the metaphorical hand.

It was overwhelming. The sickening ease she felt, the grief that had etched its way into her heart, the ice cold vapor that pricked at her skin. Her eyes, though dull, stared at him as tears welled in them.

The muscles in her face were stone, but a single tear fell out. Like the drip of a slow leak; an accident. Soon, it crystalized.

She was exhausted beyond function. The back of her throat tried to make a semblance of a noise. Without her mouth, the noises could only replicate half of her intended message. But it was obvious what she tried to say: Help. Help.

Spoiler

angel doe

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

Overcast, In Saline

TIME:

Post-Arc 3, July 7th [Evening]

LOCATION:

Clemency Private Hospital, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Eric, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante, Pei

Overcast, In Saline

It'd been a hard day. Her injuries were one thing, but the manner in which her visitors had treated her was another. Stray fetters of strain still swum in her chest, kept there by the ceaselessly monotonous press of the hospital atmosphere. Whenever her mind was idle, it was quickly filled with pangs of worry. Visions of blood on concrete.

She just hoped that nobody did anything stupid.

"Oh." Passeri had only registered about half of what the nurse had been saying. "Um- Thank you..."

The nurse was a sweet woman, she could tell that much, but she'd hardly noticed her presence. Between the painkillers and fatigue, there wasn't much that her senses were good for at this point. It was like there was a damp cloth cast over everything, leaving her with only the indefinite impressions of what lay beneath.

A faint sigh passed through her lips, and she reclined into her bed. How long had it been since she'd taken a nap? She wasn't sure if she ever even had. Passeri's eyes squeezed shut as her head sank into her pillow, and she waited for the cool embrace of unconsciousness to take her.

...For all of five seconds.

The ghoulish rivets of Pei's laughter were so sudden, that Passeri that she'd somehow managed to start dreaming before she even fell asleep, but then he kept going. There was no mistaking it. Even drained of blood and coated in bruises as she'd been, Passeri had burned this face, this voice, into her mind.

How couldn't she? In all of heaven and earth, she was rather confident that there was nobody else who spoke to her like this.

"You work fast, huh...?" As best as she could, Passeri scooped herself back up out of her bed. Her eyes, shadowed and red, regarded the devilish young man with a mixture of exhaustion and pleasant surprise. "I said I'd pay you back, right...? How's, uh-?"

One-hundred thousand. That was going to be her starting number, but the word never made it out of her throat. Passeri's bed started to rumble and jerk, and the morose beeping of hospital equipment gave way to something entirely more cartoonish.

"W-what are you doing?" Passeri met Pei's rancor with concern, immediate and pressing. Not that it was good for much. As she was, she could have really done anything with her, and she could have done equally little about it. The difference between his bashing her head in with a pipe, and turning her bedsprings into jump pads, by all means, was shockingly small, so it was a good thing that he'd gone for the latter.

Probably.

"Press wh-?" She couldn't finish the second word. Her bed sprung forward, and then the next thing Passeri knew, she was in the air. The scraps of her 'what?' were garbled into a high-pitched shriek, which was cut short as she careened into the wheelchair with a squeaky thud.

"That's... What?" She stammered out a few words. It was a good thing that the nurse had just given her another dose of painkillers, otherwise she was sure that her ribs would've been screaming at her right now.

"Fresh air? Was the catapult really necessary for that...?" She didn't even stop to question how he'd pulled it off. Resignation had completely saturated her bones around when the nurse had needed to help her use the bathroom. "Whatever... Just flip me around, please? Security is gonna rip your ass open if you're rolling me around backwards."

Spoiler: Tags

Interacted: thebigfella
Relevant: N/A

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Young-sook Baker [NPC]

SCENE:

Overcast, In Saline

TIME:

Post-Arc 3, July 7th [Morning]

LOCATION:

Clemency Private Hospital, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Eric, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante, Pei

Overcast, In Saline

Young-sook had never cared much for novels, for fiction, but even the stoic weren't immune to boredom. She'd reached the forty-seventh page of the supposed 'life-changing best seller' that she'd extracted from the hospital's entertainment pantry by the time the black-cloaked figure had stormed into her granddaughter's room, and page fifty-nine by the time that a shorter woman had awkwardly scrambled in and out of it.

Now, at page sixty-four, she was unimpressed with the novel, and side-eyeing the woman whom she was now sharing a bench with.

"A friend of yours in there?" Quietly, she folded the book shut and rested it atop her lap. Young-sook's 'Hello, how are you?' came in the form of an arched brow, and an inquisitive eye. Since leaving home, Passeri had largely kept to herself. One could hardly blame an old woman for being curious about just who it was that was paying her critically injured granddaughter a visit.

Though, honestly, anybody would have been better than that deadbeat company president of hers.

"Awfully short visit, that. You didn't get shooed off, did you?" She wouldn't have been surprised. The amount of secrets the girl had kept in her bedroom during her youth had been preposterous. Why had she even felt the need to hide a flute?

"Or is it that other one? The one that didn't bother wiping their shoes before they came in." A long trail of sad, wet floor still led to Passeri's door. It was a shame that she couldn't see beyond the slab of cold wood that separated the room from the hall, but she supposed that this woman's lack of frantic screaming meant that whatever was going on in the room was probably nothing to worry about.

"It's not a private booth, you know. You don't need to wait your turn."

Spoiler: Tags

Interacted: gxxberkit
Relevant: simj26

 

[Jexon Whells]

Lloyd Sorvocah

CS Link

TIME:

Post- Arc 3: June 27th

SCENE:

The Welcome Wagon

LOCATION:

Dragon HQ, East District

PARTICIPANTS:

'Here be dragons'

The Welcome Wagon

Lloyd politely waves back to the people already in the room when he entered. He isn't too surprised when he is called by his name, eventhough he hadn't met anyone personally. He expects that higher-ups know the new people. Besides, they have to know who to send an invitation to. The air of tension that was present starts to fade as more people enter the room. Quickly he gets out of the way to not block people from getting in. He picks a spot that allows him to observe for bit and see who else enter the room. Though he takes his eyes off the door for a second when he notices he still has his gloves on, promptly taking them off and pocketing them. The moment he looks up again, someone else had already entered. Actually, multiple people came in quite fast, one after another. One of the people seemed to be a part of the organisation of this meeting, evident by the amount of food they suddenly unpacked, and Lloyd vaguely overhears a question of how many more people are to be expected.

Then there seem to be the invited rookies arriving, one of which was quite loud with her entrance. Her rude demeanor is immediately off-putting to Lloyd, making him unconsciously frowning slightly. He almost missed another person entering, who was addressed as Keith by one of the organisers. Though he seems to be a bit shy on the initial introduction, his outward demeanor seems to change when he notices the rude little lady, who apparently goes by Jessamine. Comparing the first impressions he gets from Jessamine and Keith, Lloyd wonders what their dynamic is, and if it is as stereotypical as one would expect. But before he can continue his thoughts on it, two more people enter. At that point he doesn't know what to focus on; the fact that the organisers seem surprised at them arriving, or the fact that one of them is carrying a box of kittens. Eventually he decides not to question it. He is a rookie who was invited here, not one of the organisers.

He starts leaning against the nearest wall as he observes the room, waiting to see where things go and what exactly the plan is. Though it seems it is a sort of meet-and-greet. Not something Lloyd is particularly good at, but he has to make an attempt. They are all his colleagues afterall, and some higher-ups too. However, instead of taking action immediatly he zones out, lost on thought on what the best approach would be, even going in detail on each person. 'I rather avoid that rude little redhead. She seems to be quite explosive, which is definitely not my kind of energy. As for Keith, from a first impression he seems to spook easily. I could be wrong, but I rather not take a risk. I know from experience that some people rather avoid me. And how do I approach the leadership? Should I approach them at all, or wait to be approached? I don't want to seem disrespectful. Wait- Where is the guy who came in at the same time as me?' In such moments where Lloyd is lost in thought, his spacial awareness drops, so he isn't really noticing anything going on. That is, unless something happens that disrupts his thoughts.

Slav WhiskeyMarten Roda the Red simj26 tityanya Doctor Llamabean FabulousTrash Coyote Hart Beann

 

[Beann]

SAMIRA CALRISSIAN

CS Link

SCENE:

I am (not) your Grandpa!

LOCATION:

Calrissian HQ, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Babarutthoth, Samira

I am (not) your Grandpa!

Samira listened quietly to Babar's conditions. A place to stay, an allowance, and entry into the Albino Tigers. All three conditions were feasible considering her status and wealth. There were many minor concerns though. How could she ensure that he would hold up his end of the bargain? She was confident that he trusted her as much as she trusted him — which was near zero. It would be a game of who would betray the other first, and Samira refused to lose. Then there was the matter of finding work for him in the Tigers. Having him work directly under her would be ideal to keep a close eye on him but if his expertise was in gathering intel, he might be useful elsewhere.

She let out a slight huff as she thought about the whole situation. Her long, manicured fingernails made a rhythm sound against the desk, an obvious indicator that she was deep in consideration. "Very well." Samira decided, sitting back up straight in her chair. "A one bedroom apartment. Payment slightly above the minimum wage, and a waiver for the membership fee for the 'club'." Sliding open the top drawer, she pulled out a simple notebook and a pen. Opening the notebook to the next free page, she wrote down the conditions she would uphold. "Until I know the extent of your skills, I can't tell you what work I'll put you in but all you really need to know is that you'll report to me or another man who you'll meet later on." She explained as she began to write the conditions he was required to meet.

"You will be given a smartphone with tracking and monitoring services to ensure you remain in the area and of course, not contacting anyone outside of who I deem permissible. You will not utter a word about my affiliation or any other details you managed to pick up outside this room." Samira flipped the notebook around for Babar to confirm the conditions that were expected of each other. An informal contract. "Now the explanation of your potential."

Vorifengrous

 

[Ramjammer]

The Lion, The Witch, and The Cheque.


Lorette Lècuyer CS LINK

Scene: The Lion, The Witch, and The Cheque.

Time: Post-Arc 3. June 26th

Location: Azwa Mariam. West District.

Participants: Lorette. Passeri. Markus.


If he hadn't known better, Richard would have assumed nothing was wrong. But he did know better. He'd known better for as long as they'd been married.

Lorette's posture was rigid as she sat primly in the passenger seat. Her eyes she kept glued to the window, staring disinterestedly at the passing scenery. Richard would glance at her every so often while he drove. He noted the minute way that her brow creased. He was able to spot the barest downturn of her lips. To most people, Lorette didn't look much different from how she always did. Stony, unshakable, and unaffected. But Richard knew better.

He knew better than anyone that his wife was pissed.

Lorette hated having her time wasted. There was always something worthwhile to be done. Always someone important to talk to. She did not concern herself with the things she'd deemed unimportant. And there were few people in the world less important to Lorette than the Tiger King.

She'd ranted about it before at great length, from his lackadaisical approach to business and low expectations for entry into the gang all the way down to his appalling choice of clothing and ridiculous hair. Lorette was not a fan of taking orders from children. Taking orders from children she deemed incompetent was far worse.

Those were gripes that she left behind, however. Because, like her, Markus didn't like having his time wasted. If the Tiger King had seen fit to come out of his lair, then it was for a damn good reason. Above all else, the woman did not ignore duty. She had been called, and so she would answer.

Richard stopped in front of their final destination, an Ethiopian restaurant called Azwa Mariam. Lorette had already exited the car by the time Richard made ready to open the door for her. His huffing drew an arched brow from his wife.

"I was getting that for you." He grumbled.

"You think I don't know how to open a door?" She asked drily, moving around the front of the car to stand next to Richard on the sidewalk.

"I want to do nice things for you. Especially with the night you're about to have."

Lorette's gaze softened in the way that Richard was pleased to know only he would ever be the recipient of, and she drew him into a hug.

"Thank you. I don't say it as often as I should, so thank you." She murmured.

Richard smiled and returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of Lorette's head.

"You never need to thank me for things I enjoy doing." He said.

They stood like that for a moment longer, holding onto each other as if the other would disappear once they let go. Lorette was already late to her meeting with Markus, but Richard was loathe to let her go. Another man was having a nice dinner with his wife, after all. The little shit could wait.


The warm and inviting ambiance of the restaurant's interior was a sharp contrast to Lorette's stormy mood. Despite his best efforts, Richard could not soothe her nerves completely. She was stuck spending the evening with Markus. Sure, there was the girl as well, the one who'd orchestrated this entire affair. She'd be there, likely to mediate and keep things civil. For the life of her, Lorette could not understand why the girl would subject herself to spending an evening with two of the biggest assholes in New Oasis. She must have known something that would make the headache worth it all, but Lorette wasn't so sure.

After she'd confirmed her reservation, the Maitre'd hustled Lorette to their chosen table. She wanted to think it was because he prided himself on quick and efficient service but couldn't help the stray thought that he wanted to be rid of her and the aura of unpleasantness cloaking her. She couldn't really blame him.

There were no longer any barriers between herself and the inevitable. Lorette stood there and eyed the Tiger King cooly. Whatever their little farce of a meal was, she still had to acknowledge a single, indisputable fact.

Markus Wiess was the King of the Albino Tiger, and Lorette Lècuyer was not.

Whatever he'd done, he'd done it well enough to place himself on the throne. And despite her long list of misgivings, it was something Lorette could not deny. Markus, the young man, may have been no less than a fool in her eyes. But Markus, the Tiger King, was a very real and genuine threat to everything she was. Lorette had never been one to ignore threats to her person and so treated each one with the respect they deserved.

Straightening her spine, Lorette bowed at the waist. She was the perfect image of austere professionalism. Her eyes remained locked on Markus, a stare as disciplined and restrained as her voice when she spoke.

"Your Eminence. And honor to be here this evening."

It was a dubious honor to play the part of willing supplicant to a Boy King. But Lorette could not choose what distinctions to embrace and which to discard. It chafed against her very nature, as things that were beyond her control so often did.

Righting smoothly, Lorette finally looked at Passeri and decided to greet her.

"Miss Park, I thank you for the invitation." She said before promptly seating herself at the table.

"Though I must say, taking me to one of the few restaurants in the city that serves African Cuisine is not a choice I'd have expected you to make." She continued, her voice taking on a practiced edge.

Lorette figured that if she was going to spend however long dealing with whatever nonsense Passeri had in store, then she would at least be getting a laugh out of it.

The One Eyed Bandit Elenion Aura

 

[BriiAngelic]

Jackson Reese Alessi

CS Link

SCENE MUSIC:

Back to the Dorm

LOCATION:

North District

DATE:

Janurary 31st, 2014 || Pre-Arc 1

PARTICIPANTS:

Jackson, Kisara ( simj26 )

A Pledge to Tender Moments

He felt his face flush as he heard the genuine laugh come from the girl. His first though was that she looked cute with a grin on her face, and the second was a layer of cringe at he wondered if she was laughing at him. Did he play it up too much with the “being the dragon”? Before he could start putting his shoe in his mouth and frantically taking back his words she spoke again.

Oh okay, good he wasn’t too weird then.

“But Captain, no danger could possibly too grand for your excellency! I will simply need to rise to the occasion and prove myself worthy to be in your court!”

Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. He could at least see why she was interesting enough that Bash took interest. In all honesty maybe he had it wrong. He couldn’t see her likely to start too much trouble on her own, heck maybe it was Bash that dragged her into detention and not the other way around.

“My dreams may not be as grand as the Great Kisara but I will stand proudly at your side and scream them to the world beyond. I, Jackson Reese Alessi, will cut a path forth and ensure that the team has nothing but the finest of luxuries. All will fear the name of Kisara the great, and her grand court of jesters!”

Okay maybe they should come up with a better team name. He didn’t think Minato and Bash would appreciate being called Jesters for long. Still he didn’t really have a great talent with words. Not that they would do much better honestly though.

 

[BriiAngelic]

Jackson Reese Alessi

CS Link

SCENE MUSIC:

Death Respect

LOCATION:

East District, Brothel

TIME:

???

PARTICIPANTS:

Jackson, Takaonna (@AriAriAbabwa)

Pest Control

The screams of those that weren’t his target would bother him if the average brothel patron wasn’t a damn pig. Sure technically he would fit in on that but well… they probably wouldn’t die anyway. Whereas people would die if that thing wasn’t caught. He paused as soon as they made their escape up and out of the vent.

He flung the door open swapping songs for another with the ease of someone who didn’t really care of the song was suddenly wrong. Technically anything melodic worked but it was easier to sing if he could remember actual lyrics. The shouts lessened as people caught their senses and started to run away from his pain aura.

He would have done a more personal check if not for the lights cutting from the brothel.

“FUCK!”

He cut off his song as he kicked the closest wall next to him in both frustration and fear. He listened in for sounds nearby doing his best to get around in the pitch-black dark. If there was one thing he was doing after this it was DEMANDING windows be added. If not for safety then for his own fucking sanity.

“COME OUT BITCH. YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY FROM A BONAFIED DRAGON YOU SCUM.”

They’d pay for her death.

He started up another song with anger in a melody that was more growls and shouts than singing.

“Koukai nante kimochi wa naindarou sono nounai”

He’d hear their symphony of screams soon enough.

[[Translated Line: There’s no such thing as regret in that head of yours, is it?]]

 

[BriiAngelic]

CAIO SANTANA COELHO

CS Link

SCENE MUSIC:

Tucson

LOCATION:

North District

TIME:

~2004, Pre-Arc 1

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri ( The One Eyed Bandit ) Caio

Captives of The System

It was kinda telling that this girl had someone offering to buy her food and still worried about if they could afford it. How little kindness did she know? More over how was she even alive? He knew she was scrawny for her age but damn. At least she corrected herself before he had to. He nodded along as he motioned for her to lead the way to this “Marge’s” place.

“Well whatcha waiting for, I’m starving you’re starving and we got a load of cash to blow.”

Once they arrived he scoped out the patrons body blockling any suspicious people making sure to always keep Brandy on the side of the more normal looking ones. He’d feel like shit if his new friend had a particularly bold druggie lash out when he was trying to take her out for a treat.

“Mmm its less weird than I was imagining from your suggestion.”

Wait that was rude right? Oh well it wasn’t like it was wrong though. He grimaced a bit from his wording but simply reached a hand out to mess up her hair in a mimic of the way his brother would do to him. With a crooked smile he shrugged to a booth off on the side.

“Let’s get that one, it looks comfy enough.”

Did this place have menus? Man he should have asked more questions before one of the people at this diner called them both out. At least he knew money talked and they shouldn’t have much issue when he started to flash some cold hard cash.

“How often you come here anyways? What’s good?”

 

[BriiAngelic]

CAIO SANTANA COELHO

CS Link

SCENE Music:

Ocho Cinco

LOCATION:

Copper's Bar, North District

TIME:

2019, Pre-Arc 1

PARTICIPANTS:

Darius ( WhiskeyMarten ), Caio

TEST DRIVE

The man’s questions only made him wonder if he wasn’t used to fighting. Yeah his skin was fucked up now and his hand was more fleshy than he’d like to see but it wasn’t much worse than what would happen if he was on the wrong side of a blade. If he lasted this long without someone trying to off him then maybe it’d be even easier than he imagined to apply enough pressure to see the man break.

“Oh come now-”

But as soon as he wanted to apply that pressure they were immediately split up. He liked the bar enough, he didn’t need to stab the poor dumbass np just cause he didn’t know who he was talking to. ‘Sides Yuudai might do that anyway. He put his hands up ignoring the gory mess one was as if to show a sign of backing off.

“Okay okay we get it. Me and my friend here will just take a little walk. Cool our jets. No need to get snippy at two loyal patrons.”

He took his good hand and started to shove at the back of the other. He was sure if Darius made a run for it he wouldn’t get too far. Besides, now he had his face. There would be no escaping for this little fucker. But if he could manage to be useful and entertaining then maybe he’d be a little lighter on the spineless coward.

He took a leap forward smacking both hands on the wall trying to box in Darius to the point where he would need to shove Caio away physically or drop to the floor to escape.

“Now what was that you were squeaking before we were so rudely interrupted.”

 

[angel doe]

celestine renee cadieux

CS Link

SCENE:

friends who slay together stay together

LOCATION:

the tucker's house, north district outskirts

TIME:

post arc 3

PARTICIPANTS:

teddie, celestine

friends who slay together stay together

Celestine looked up from Carlisle as the door swung open, followed by the thud of what sounded like a body, "Welcome home! I hope your outing was pleasant." She smiled despite the unease she felt, glancing briefly at the body on the floor.

When Teddie asked if she recognized the man they had brought, Celeste stood up from where she sat on the couch to get a better look. Readjusting her hold on Carly in the process and swaying back and forth as she examined the body on the floor, "Hmm... No, I do not recognize this man. It appears to be a random guy."

Celeste shifted her gaze back to her friends, meeting the eyes of Teddie and then Eliza, "This is a dragon, though, yes?" The grief she felt clouded her mind at the mere mention of an Azure Dragon and the thought of getting some form of vengeance quickly took hold.

Celestine's eyes narrowed at the stranger, "The game you mentioned, the one you said I was permitted to join when you returned..." She looked up and locked eyes with Teddie, "Would you tell me what it entails?"

WhiskeyMarten

 

[Coyote Hart]

NPC POST - Pasha Orlov

SCENE:

Welcome Wagon

LOCATION:

The Azure Dragon's HQ, East District

TIME:

June 27 | Post Arc 3

PARTICIPANTS:

Dorian, Jessamine, Keith, Lloyd, Mirza, Pavel, Ruriko, Renjiro, Kanna, Silva

WELCOME WAGON

Pasha was late. An issue had cropped up at HQ, forcing him to take a trip to the post office. And New Oasis traffic was the worst. Sometimes Pasha wondered if an HP jogging through the streets would arrive at their location earlier than sitting through traffic, tapping the steering wheel to the radio's music. Fortunately, Pasha knew that with the Dragon's protection on his side, breaking a few traffic laws wouldn't land him in hot water, so he was only... five minutes late.

Pasha ran out of his shabby car as soon as he parked it, sprinting through the Dragon HQ's door with a hasty, "Gud mornink."

He had been taught to not be late. To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is to be unacceptable, as the Amestrians said. Pasha was in a state of 'unacceptable' even if this was just a simple introduction for the new bloods. He had promised brother to help with the paperwork today, and he had to deliver. Pavel had helped him with so much in the past, so how dare Pasha dishonor his debt by flaking?

"Sorry I'm late," Pasha said, bursting into the meeting room, "Imbeciles at office sent pipe bomb instead of tax forms."

For those in the room, the man who had just arrived could be described as both out of place and right at home. He held a strong resemblance to Pavel-- the wavy snow white hair was almost identical, and Pasha stood only an inch shorter than him. But the similarities ended at facial features. Unlike the well-built Pavel, Pasha was spindly and weak-looking; a stereotypical certified nerd. His voice was ladened with a Graad accent, owing to many years spent overseas.

Although he wasn't a full-fledged member of the Dragons, it would be unlikely for him to be considered an unfamiliar sight. Pasha usually tried to stay out of the way of the more violent gang related work, but he was always available for Dragons to dump any potential paperwork onto. Writing up torture confessions, documenting and compiling sales figures from the brothels, and documenting 'good' and 'bad' Dragon behavior were some of the more mind-melting tasks Pasha willingly threw himself into. Anything for the measly paycheck.

Pasha took several deep breaths to steady himself. The mad dash from the parking lot to the HQ had taken the wind out of Pasha's sails, and he took a seat next to Pavel. He raised a hand in a solemn wave, "Hello comrades. Name's Pasha. Don't mind me, I'm just taking this moment to make sure everyone's paperwork is up to speed."

With all the new Dragons in one room, it would be a cinch to make sure the Dragons internally had all the information they needed. Who knew that running a gang would require so much tedious red tape.

"Why are you drinking this early in the day?" Pasha asked Pavel. He turned to the Ikeda siblings and said, "I hope he hasn't been bullying you two too much."

And with that, Pasha reached into his bag to grab his paperwork, a pen, and an IV blood bag, which he unstoppered and took a sip of the red liquid from. He carefully set the paperwork on the table, moving some of Mirza's baked treats out of the way to do so. He had work to do. But even despite that, his eyes lingered on some of the baked treats. The man looked up at Mirza and asked, "Are these for the taking?"

Slav WhiskeyMarten Roda the Red simj26 tityanya Doctor Llamabean FabulousTrash Beann

 

[thebigfella]

Zentsupa Pei

CS Link

SCENE:

Overcast, in Saline

LOCATION:

Clemency Private Hospital, Central District

TIME:

July 7th, 2022 (Evening) || Post-Arc 3

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Eric, Pei, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante

Overcast, in Saline

She didn’t understand how the world worked, not one bit. The laws of nature shifted around his presence. The rules of the world were torn apart and rewritten.

Expect the unexpected was a flimsy phrase that people loved to throw around, but they never truly parsed what it meant.

The chess master who questions his opponent’s surprising opening strategy of placing a knight in C3 on white, the Go player who looks down on their opposition for their disorganized placement of stones. The old guys playing mahjong for years run through the assumptions of the Imperial Jade Hand or the Gates of Heaven. It all stems from the same case. Those who try to look into the future are always the gophers with their heads deep into the past.

Was a catapult necessary? His smirk offered any answer if Passeri truly wanted one; the answer was not a yes, neither was it a no. It was something much less profound. A maybe, a maybe not. A minuscule matter that wasn’t worth defining in black and white.

“Security? I’m not worried about that,” Pei stated, his words coming from behind his sharpened teeth as his brows knitted, his piercing gaze into hers, the shimmers of purpose only casting deeper shadows on the muddled focus of her own darkened eyes, “You should be worrying about yourself,” Pei remarked, raising himself to stand straight, removing his weight off the wheelchair as he gripped onto its handles.


“If you want to look forward, do it yourself! No one else gonna do it for ya, mangled fuck!” Pei’s twisted smirk didn’t do anything to mask his intentions as he shifted his focus away from the idol to glance down at his robotic companion.


“Alright, tin can, you know what to do!” He barked, prompting the tiny robot to immediately perk up, his antenna swirling around as he raised his fists energetically above his blocky head, “Roger! Pi-pi-po!♪” He exclaimed, before quickly crouching down and climbing underneath the wheelchair. His hands transformed into grabby claws, quickly latched onto the cross-shaped support bar underneath the seat and swung himself upward to hook his body within the middle.

“Transforming! Transforming!” Q-Bot’s robotic announcement came, as firmly in place, his torso opened to reveal a large compartment, allowing his legs to fold neatly, sliding inside the unknown darkness, quickly replaced by something much more helpful, the end of a rocket turbine. It slotted into place with an audible click, and what came next was the whirring of it building up power.

Pei’s amusement quickly turned to annoyance as his lanky posture crumbled down to the floor like he didn’t even have bones, just to peer underneath the wheelchair, his fangs barred and brows furrowed at the useless robot, “Oi! I didn’t tell you to start it yet, you fuckin’ obsolete scrap metal!” He shouted, slamming a fist against the robot’s side.

“Ow! I’m sorry, professor! But I can’t stop it now! It’s gonna come oooooouuuut!” He cried, body shaking and moving around as much as it could in its current position as visible sweat drops flew off him. Pei could only click his teeth before his smile returned to his face, taking the mishap and turning it into a revel in the madness on the flip of a dime as Q-Bot began his count down below.

“Blasting off in 3…”

“Time to get moving then! Kekekekekek!” Pei sharply turned the wheelchair around as he continued to cackle and pushed it forward, his flimsy little legs going as fast as he could to reach the door.

“2…”

He stopped, the wheels skidding as they kicked up the smoke of burned rubber, a sharp change in momentum that tossed Passeri around like she was without a seatbelt on a dune buggy ride. They found themselves right in front of the door as the whirring jet engine roared through the room, the wind blowing between Pei’s legs as his pants danced and ruffled around his legs.

“1…”

Pei’s eyes narrowed as the following words left his mouth, vicious with perverse enjoyment, leaking out his lips as viscous as an oil slick.

“Blast off.”







Th perspective abruptly snapped toward the peaceful halls of the hospital. White painted walls, glossed vinyl tiles on the ground, bright lights overhead. The muffled sounds of the busy hospital came from around corners and within rooms, the capacity at near maximum after the recent earthquake.

Lone clogs clicked across the floor, the familiar smile of the caring nurse that had checked Passeri’s vitals; her cart, which formerly held all types of medical supplies, had been replaced with one meant for food. Hot platters on trays kept covered by a steel cloche.

She stopped the cart right before the door of the idol, Passeri Park, she would take a harmless peek in, and see if the woman was interested in having her first meal in a while or if there was anything else she could get her. She had many people waiting for her recovery, men, women, and children who would be heartbroken if something more happened to her. It was their job to make sure she recovered quickly.e

As she went to step from behind the cart and go towards the door, she paused, a sound unknown tickling her eardrums. It was faint, indescribable, and coming from just behind the door.

“What is that--”

The door slammed open, bashing into the cart with enough impact to break the ceramic plates before they hit the ground; gravy, mushrooms, Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and carrots, the entire course flew into the air along with the metal covers, before they could even impact against the ground, they were blown away and splattered against the wall across the way as the wheelchair blew out of the room.

“KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEK!”

Pei’s crazed laugh echoed throughout the hospital as the wheelchair blazed down the hallway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake, leaving the nurse there with her eyes wide open, splatters of gravy and potatoes splattering across her scrubs, a piece of meat falling down and wetly slapping on her forehead.

“KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEK!”

Pei’s head was reeled back in elation at the madness of the ride, his hair fluttering in the wind as they soared through the hospital; he clutched onto the sides of the wheelchair, legs placed on its armrests, straddling on like a rabid monkey.

He finally stopped laughing to peer down towards the idol, the shadow cast on his face as the lights blurred overhead.

“We got some shit to talk about, so don’t go gettin’ sick, alright!?” He cackled, snapping back up just to see where they were going. His mouth hung open mid-guffaw as he saw a pair of doctors walking by, a cup of coffee in their hands as they talked amongst each other, unaware of the rocket wheelchair approaching them.

“OUTTA THE WAY! KEKEKEKEKEK!” Pei shouted towards them both as their heads snapped up before their eyes bulged out of their heads, and their tongues shot out of their mouths. They quickly dove out of the way, toppling onto the ground and rolling across the floor as the wheelchair whizzed past them.

Coffee splattered across their chests, and they were left to look down the hall with looks of horror before looking at each other in unison.

“We need security!”


“Kekekek, that was close.” Pei’s words brought the focus back on the pair as Pei turned his attention back down towards the victim of his wild ride; now was the time to tell her why he was bothering with any of this in the first place besides his own amusement.

“I did a bit of my own digging; you should be grateful,” Pei began his explanation with a broad grin, leaning his posture downward to close the gap between his face and Passeri’s, “I was curious. A fuckhead like that parsed out that you were Jack. And you aren’t out there showing your stripes to everyone. So how the hell did that masked pissant figure it out?”

Pei posed the question, even though he clearly already knew the answer, seemingly intent on getting Passeri’s gears turning and adrenaline pumping simultaneously. He only let his words ruminate for a bit before he continued, that self-satisfied smirk never leaving his face.

“At first, I thought it was just a spat between you and another Tiger; I just happened to drop in at a fortunate fuckin’ time. But when I decided to look into dealing with that concrete freak, it wasn’t hard to find his true affiliation. Unlike you, he wore those scales of his with pride.”

Scales came in many colors. But, in this case, there was no other color that could be relevant. A sickly color, covered in filth and grime. Despite how fast they were moving, it felt like time had slowed, the world around them becoming silent and forgotten. Pei’s unempathetic smile shifted to a knowing smirk, knowing the ramifications of his words before he spoke them out loud.

“A serpent almost took your life. You’re still under the effects of the venom, aren’t you? Kekekekekekekek!”

The One Eyed Bandit

 

[simj26]

Elise Cutter

CS Link

SCENE:

Overcast, In Saline

TIME:

Post-Arc 3, July 7th

LOCATION:

Clemency Private Hospital, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Eric, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante, Pei

Overcast, In Saline

She struggled and strained to regain her composure. She could hear the words from the Princess, soft as they were, and yet, all there was in her ears was infernal ringing. It drowned out the Princess's pleas, her 'its okay's and her 'I'll be fine's, it took hold of her own breath, her uncontrollable sobs, and molded them, slowly, into staggered, heavy breaths.

"No, no, no, no, no! Y' don't get it. It ain't about whether there's someone who can fix you." The usual contralto had risen to a harsh mezzo-soprano, and the telltale tells of her upbringing from all the way back in rural Amestria. "What if there ain't no Knight to give y' some magic panacea?" The volume was now rising alongside the pitch and the accent. "What if no one helped you? What if y' can't wake up from it?! What if–" you died?, she wanted to say, but the words were choked back by the flames, the smell and taste of metal strangling her very breath, the hoarse, anguished scream towards the red skies, the feeling of grains in her throat as she vowed death upon her enemies.

The door opened behind her, and the panicked voice that accompanied it was enough of a distraction from her rant towards the Princess. She drew a sleeve across her face in an attempt to dry the tears, and turned away from Passeri. Her breath was staggered by remnants of her sobs. "I'm going to take a walk," she said, her voice returning to what most of her New Oasis acquaintances would associate her with, the cold, laconic ice.

She pulled her hand away from the Princess's, and picked up her black coat. Like night falling upon the land, it seemed to slide itself over her arms and drape itself upon her shoulders. For now, the Princess was safe, and Knight will fix her. But that wasn't enough. She had to send a message, just as she had all those years ago. String them up, gut them, bleach their bones under the sun, showcase their splayed, broken bodies to the world, send the message.

She should have been there. She should have kept her safe. She should have been there. She could have kept them safe. She should have been. She should have.

Now, and again, she had to do all of it after the fact. She was so useless. It was hopeless. It was her fate to be absent when she should be present.

Not again. Never again.

After this, she would never let anyone she cared for be hurt again.

She stalked out of the room, and caught sight of the one who had peeled her head out of the Princess's quarters when she had seen them. "You can go in," she grunted, and made her way down the hall, down towards a window that peeked out into the next wing over.

She slid the window open, and produced a crushed pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She lit one up, and took a drag from it.

Kill, it growled.

Maim, they shouted.

Tear, she screamed.

Hunt.


She will. She breathed out a plume of faded smoke. She must.

Spoiler: tags

Roda the Red The One Eyed Bandit @gxxberkit @The Regal Rper thebigfella

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

Overcast, In Saline

TIME:

Post-Arc 3, July 7th [Morning]

LOCATION:

Clemency Private Hospital, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Passeri, Eric, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante, Pei

Overcast, In Saline

There was heat in her chest, and wetness in her throat. Passeri wanted to open her mouth. To say something, anything to stop Elise's raving. Her usual iciness had melted away completely. It should have been pleasant- to see a new side of the woman- but today she couldn't bear it. Not like this. She didn't want to hear her like this.

"...!" A wet choke was all she could muster when Kiwi stumbled through the door, her words suppressed by Elise's own. Her eyes pleaded with her to stay, but before Passeri knew it, she was already gone. She didn't blame her. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have. Between the whizzing lanes of her thoughts, there simply wasn't any room left.

"I... Stop... Please... I..." They sounded the part, but what was coming out of Passeri's mouth were not words. They were sounds, nothing more. The stray snippets of the hundred different things she wanted to say, the dozens of platitudes and tens of apologies, all struggling to escape through the same mouth.

The distressed twang that possessed Elise's voice. The heat in her chest, and all of the things she wanted to say. She didn't understand. She could have, but she didn't. Passeri's subconscious pulled her understanding deep into the black depths of itself. Understanding would have been anathema, a wrecking ball sent straight through the composure which she was only barely managing to keep together.

Passeri's hand twitched within Elise's grasp, but before she could say anything more the other woman withdrew. Ice slipped back over her voice, and her coat returned to her shoulders, smothering the form that had been weeping by her beside a moment ago. Whoever it was that Elise's panic had unearthed was banished back beneath the tundra.

...But Passeri's hand was still wet, glistening with Elise's tears. They were the one thing the ice could not take back. Her hand stung, but she did not wipe it dry. It was a pain that she wanted to hold on to, even if she did not know it.

"I..." There was something she wanted to say, but she didn't. "...Okay. Just... Stay safe, okay? P-please?"

The door pulled shut as Elise left. Even alone, Passeri's heart continued to race faster, pulling her mind along with it. The panic that she'd heard in Elise's voice. The way she'd crumpled by her bedside. The sparks of fire that she'd left in her wake.

She wanted a distraction.

"K-Kiwi...?" Even though Passeri's eyes were dry her words were strained. Somewhere deep, a part of her was crying. Somewhere else, a part of her wished it had taken back Elise's hand as she'd left. She wouldn't let either of them out.

"Are you still out there...?" Her voice struggled to penetrate the door. "I'm, um... Fine to chat...?"

...

Her voice, shaking. Her rough, crumpled form. Fire.

She needed a distraction.

"Hello...?"

Spoiler: Tags

Interacted: simj26 gxxberkit
Relevant: N/A

 

[Saturn_moon]

Isobel Pham

SCENE:

16 January 2010: [The concrete that breaks our fall]

LOCATION:

Paragon's Hall, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Markus, Roland, Isobel

The concrete that breaks our fall

Once in school, a teacher asked the class what was more likely to bring about the end of the world. Fire or ice? Isobel hadn't thought much about the question then but as she watched Markus and Roland in the arena now, it was all she could think about. As the wave of ice Markus conjured surged down on the spot where Roland stood, Paragon's hall was suddenly engulfed in mist and steam and the epicenter of this was a glowing orb of intense heat. It radiated out from Roland creating a shell where fire met ice.

Markus' attack had been immense and had he been fighting any other HP, chances are they would have been turned to dust. But Roland wasn't any other HP. Roland was Roland. The man pushed forward, step by labored step until he was once again within reach of Markus. "IT'S OVER." He yelled before extending a hand and grabbing Markus by the throat. Leaping into the air, Markus still in his grasp, he slammed the boy into the ground leaving a crater around where they stood.

All the ice immediately dissipated and in the clearing mist, all that remained was Roland on his knees breathing heavily next to an unconscious Markus on the ground. As if on cue, Pascal re-emerged in the arena once more. Striding up to Roland, he took the man's hand and raised it high into the air. "OUR NEW ACE. ROLAND DREYER!"

The crowd erupted and the entire stadium reverberated with the cheers of Roland's name. Rising to his feet, Roland snatched his hand from Pascal's grasp. Silently, he retreated back to the locker rooms, never once acknowledging the audience or their King in the spectator box above. He had won. He was ace. His job was done.

As people began to file out of the stadium, buzzing with highlights from the fight and plans to celebrate even though they did absolutely nothing, Isobel found herself edging forward. Towards the arena. Towards Markus. She let herself into the arena and without thinking, shuffled into the crater and slowly dragged Markus off to the side where he would be less of a spectacle. No one took notice of her as usual, and if they did, they couldn't care less. She was a nobody.

Bruises were beginning to blossom all over his skin and the top he was wearing sported scorch marks from Roland's final attack. What are you doing? The thought floated abruptly into her head. She hadn't even wanted to come to this fight. There was no reason for her to be this concerned about a boy whose ego clearly knew no bounds. A boy who had been so obsessed with the very organization she hated.

Still, there weren't many who understood what it felt like to be at the very bottom. What it's like to have to claw your way out of a ditch. Was that why she was here? To seek some sort of camaraderie amongst the downtrodden? Stupid. She chided. Looking back at the stadium, it was almost empty. They would be alone soon and it didn't seem like anyone was coming to tend to Markus. Shrugging out of the oversized hoodie she had on, she carefully laid it over him. It wasn't much but at the very least when he awoke he'd know someone had been there for him.

Elenion Aura​

Elenion Aura

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

HECTOR MOSES

CS Link

SCENE:

You Know The Rules, And So Do I

LOCATION:

Some Park, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Eric, Hector

YOU KNOW THE RULES, AND SO DO I

Hector clenched his fists, concentrating on keeping control of his movements as much as he wanted to lash out wildly. This guy's nuts. There was no other explanation as to why he was interacting so candidly with him, even mocking him. Those blades should've let loose a spray of blood, not just a few threads. His reflexes were good. He might be nuts, but he’s worth something at least.

It was time to show him what he was made of-

Clash!

Hector reacted in time to bring his blade up in defense against the blur of light that flew across his vision. He bit down on his tongue, tasting the bit of blood that dribbled out. Eric spoke more nonsense, and Hector listened, uttering through gritted teeth a "What?" before a foot connected with his stomach, knocking him off balance. He didn't go flying, but lost his footing, having already been battling pressure downwards from the photon blade.

At least the crowds already fled.

Taking advantage of his low position, Hector lunged towards Eric's legs, hoping to slice them up, or at least take the cop down with him.