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

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MIRZA KARTAL
SCENE:
Of Moose And Murder
LOCATION:
East District, Not Far From the Eternal Night Palace
PARTICIPANTS:
Sebastian, Mirza
OF MOOSE AND MURDER
Mirza felt the pressure slowly creep up, feeling a prick of pain that made his neck twitch. As the killer spoke, he might’ve felt the movement behind the blade. Mirza didn’t move, no, and nothing seemed outwardly different apart from his neck looking a little stiffer as bone collected over the most vulnerable areas of his throat.

“I can’t say I am, Sebastian, so I suppose you won’t get any satisfaction from whatever you are planning to do.”

Yeah, Mirza’s suspicions felt confirmed. Sebastian was enjoying this. Plenty of his clientele were into weird stuff, and Mirza would’ve preferred if he just wanted to make a quick buck off him or something. He supposed if that were the case, Sebastian would’ve gone after one of the other workers.

“You’ve spent a lot of time in the East District, haven’t you? You should know that the community has very little tolerance for thugs like you. Don’t think that just because we’re alone right now, doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for your actions. I’d like to give you another chance to put your knife down, and walk away, and I can forget this encounter happened.”

Mirza hoped Sebastian would take him up on his offer, but he wasn’t sure he’d even follow on his promise. It wouldn’t be right, would it? Keeping the peace to let this guy go free. He wasn’t sure if the man had attacked others before. He could shut things down so easily, but at what cost? In any case, what was happening right now needed to be stopped.
 
HECTOR MOSES
SCENE:
New Royals
LOCATION:
Kaspian's Club, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Tri
NEW ROYALS

“Oof-”

Hector landed less than gracefully, heading feet first into a puddle on the side of the road, splashing mud up to his coat as he stumbled with his remaining momentum. He came to a grateful stop inches from cars that whizzed by his face. He thought he saw a flash to the side. Was someone taking a fucking picture? Or was it just the light of passing traffic. Hector groaned.

This was embarrassing.

Maybe it wasn’t a loss in the traditional sense, but it stung perhaps more than losing a physical fight would’ve. At least he could admit that the opposing leaders had strengths that rivalled his, but to get forced to throw himself out of the club, by that scraggly, senile man??? What a joke. He turned around to look up at the broken window. Green smog crept out, being blown away by the breeze. Guess he would’ve fared a lot worse staying there.

So he had been outwitted, so what? He was pulling his punches, but not anymore. Serpent shish kebab was on the menu.

”GET OUT HERE OLD MAN, WE’RE NOT DONE!”

Hector walked to the entrance, pacing like a wild beast. He was certain the King could hear him, even from up there. So it was just a waiting game. What he didn’t see was Tri descending the stairs, but he prepared anyway, forming razor-sharp darts to aim at his throat as soon as he caught a glimpse. If he was lucky he’d catch the snake’s vocal chords, then he wouldn’t have to listen to that yapping ever again.

 
MINATO MAEDA
SCENE:
Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth
TIME:
April 3rd, 2022
LOCATION:
Blast-Off DVDs, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Shishido Takakazu, Dante Aguilar
RETURNING BACK SOMETHING YOU DON'T OWN IS BASICALLY CHILDBIRTH
Minato's inner self, the one who existed for the audience's benefit alone, felt a comically large bead of sweat drop behind his head. This nut was proving harder to crack than his usual fare. Fare? That's it! How could he have forgotten such a fundamental ingredient in this whole charade? Silly, silly... Fare, like food, was also, like, money. Money, the concept of it, reminded him that he'd need to follow up with Dante after all this about how much this 'favor' was gonna cost him...

After the job was done, of course.

"Alright, alright, ya got me!"

He threw up his hands and wore a gentle smile, accompanied by a sheepish laugh, like an art forger doing everything he could to sell his own authenticity. He stepped a ways back, away from the storefront and towards the parking lot, subtly coaxing her to follow, if only to see which direction she started off in. And create more space between them and the now-slightly-less guarded entrance to the DVD rental place.

"Can I at least walk ya to your car?" He asked, an air of innocent sincerity about him, all the while knowing that nearer to the parking lot was where Phase 2 of his operation lay in wait.

Wrinkling his nose as a new thought occurred to him, Minato said as he walked backwards away from the storefront while keeping it in his sights, "Or are you one of those girls who drives a little scooter? Do you wear your helmet?" He let out a little gasp. "Do you wear goggles?!" He was getting a visual, pink hues pricking his cheeks as a halo of soft light enveloped the air around him. Stars twinkled in his eyes. Cute...

His eyes barely registered the sight of the shadowbeast looming over the clerk's shoulder. He didn't really care if Dante and his friend were successful in whatever shenanigans they were getting up to. His reasons for doing this were his own.

Unbeknownst to him (only, totally beknownst), a shadow of a totally different variety was sneaking up on them now.

"Y'know you can get, like, all movies online now, right?" He piped up again, back-pedaling slowly towards the car park, keeping her attention as fixed on him as he could. "N' the best part? No musty video store smell. It's like—" The subtle sound of footsteps coming up behind cued Minato in to the fact that Phase 2 was already underway.

There was a sudden flurry of movement. Feet shuffling. A hand grabbing him roughly by the scruff of his hair, yanking his head back. Aa knife sliding into place before his exposed neck. Minato let out a startled yelp, body arced, feet on tip-toes as he fought to keep the blade from slicing his skin.

The masked mugger loomed over his shoulder, roughly his height. Golden eyes peered sullenly out of holes cut into a black ski-mask. In a familiar voice, the highwayman demanded, "Gimme all your money or I waste this fucker!!"


 
The Doppelgänger
SCENE:
Late-Night Chase
TIME:
Nighttime, post-arc 1
LOCATION:
Aksher Co. offices, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Minato
LATE-NIGHT CHASE
Minato's eyes widened then shut tight, anticipating the final blow that never came. He winked open one eye, then the other. As he was hoisted like a sack of potatoes, Minato went slack, as he exercised exacting control over his facial muscles, letting not an inkling of his true emotions out.

Though a little bouncy, especially on the stairs, he didn't mind the ride. It had been a long, exhausting night. He was ready to sleep. Nodding but otherwise not making a peep at the Phoenix's threats, Minato had already resigned himself to the situation at hand.

The next words that passed the Phoenix's lips were not simply more threats, but rather a question. Minato was relieved. He was relieved that the bravado seemed to be wearing off. He was also relieved by the words themselves. After all, that was an easy question to answer.

"Money." He said honestly. If the Phoenix believed nothing else, he hoped he believed that the man in his grasp would do just about anything, if the price was right.

"There it is," he said as they breached the landing onto the floor above, nodding with his chin toward a cubicle down a far row of monitors and desks. "Bring me to the console. I'll input the auth code. Hell, I'll tell you it and you can do it if you wanna." He didn't care who pressed the shiny red button (metaphorically speaking), he just cared that it got pressed.

A phone alarm buzzed in his pocket, the timer he'd set, signifying that the window of time where the auth code would do anything at all was quickly drawing to a close. "If we're doin' this, we gotta do it now!"

 
JAVI ONEIRO SILVA
SCENE:
Losers!
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 || June 11th, 2022
LOCATION:
East District, Skate Park
PARTICIPANTS:
Pei, Javi
LOSERS!
"... What... The..." He looked around at the chaos, having followed the sounds into the skatepark proper. Graffiti lined the grounds. The half-pipe and the quarter-pipe were covered in tire marks, the burnt rubber criss-crossing the concrete. He lost count of the different treads amongst the menagerie. At his side, Rocco bristled, a low, grating growl which seemed to emanate from deep inside of its body—a sound like stones grinding together.

Javi walked cautiously ahead, careful to not get in the way of any roving speedsters as they continued to tear up the park. Who... Or what... The hell were these guys?! He looked around for any sign of human life, for anyone who looked like they might be controlling these creatures... On first pass, no ringleader presented himself. All he could see with his eyes was a sea of little gremlins causing havoc, and no one to stop them.

"Hey," he said to one of the critters spraypainting more lewd pictures on the ground. "Don't do stuff like that. Kids play here." He chastised the little thing, which only squinted dumbly up at him. Javi wondered if the creature even understood him. He was about to ask, only for the thing to flash him a smug, toothy smirk before rattling around the can, preparing to add a fresh layer. Irked, Javi stepped forward, reaching his hand out to grab the can. "Hey, I said—"

A flash of yellow crossed his vision. Rocco muscled up to the creature, snatching the can of spray paint from its grip before crushing it into a flat cylinder between his flipper-hands. Before either Javi or the creature could react, Rocco let out a shriek of warning, snapping his beak in the little vandal's face. Puffing up its 'feathers', Rocco took a lunging step forward, startling its rival (for size, if not attitude) into beating a hasty retreat.

Rocco watched unblinking, still clutching the compacted aluminum can between its stubby fingers. Javi placed a hand on the cresh of his friend's head and gave him an appreciative pat. "Nice work," he breathed, keeping his eyes peeled. He had to figure out how to get the horde's attention on him to prevent them from causing any more harm to the park.

 
Jacques de la Isarn
SCENE:
Happy Therapy with Dr. Jacques
LOCATION:
Dr. Haman's Office, West District
TIME:
July, 17th
PARTICIPANTS:
Jacques, Passeri
Happy Therapy with Doctor Jacques
“You’re a fashionable young woman,” Jacques remarked, lingering at the door for this too was a mode of discussion to observe. Nor had he spared a glance at his client’s garment. To him all young women were fashionable, be it with their clothes or emotions, or even personalities. “So you should know someone fashionable changes their clothes as trees change leaves to the seasons. Even freshness and vigor follow an aging trend. I am an old woman and unfashionable. I do not follow trends. Come on in.”

He stepped aside. Then immediately he wondered with misgivings of the lingering smell of smoke on his clothes. The real Dr. Haman did not smoke, or at least he thought she didn’t, as far as his profiling of the woman went. Profiling - a curious thing that was, as with most things about this science, unscientific. But he had learned to appreciate the art for the coming hours.

“Come on in,” he repeated. In his absent-mindedness he had let slip his habit of repeating words. People usually did not comprehend him the first time. “Don’t step on the materials.”

The materials were a pile by the shelves next to the door. Books, trophies, flower vases and other unnamed and unrecognizable knick knacks that some hours ago had stood in measured arrangements on the shelves. But as men cast off of a castle's walls in the wake of conquest, they lay as broken reminders of a vain struggle Jacques had not bothered to clean up. “Some people find comfort in disorganization. I try to maintain a corner just for them,” he explained. “If that’s not to your taste, there’s the chair.” He gestured at a chaise lounge in the middle of the room. The leather was curiously black with white linings, situated just outside the patch of slanted light the large window afforded. He closed the curtains.

At a right angle with the chaise lounge, Jacques dropped on an armchair that was deceptively plump. In truth that was only an appearance to trick the patient into thinking the therapy was little more than a friendly discourse between two people in wholesome comfort. The leather yielded no further than a few centimeters when Jacques rustled his soft dress upon it, his back found a straight panel just beyond the deep brown facade. Dr. Haman had liked to work upon a solid foundation and with her back rigidly straight. Could it be that the woman had plump buttocks to make up for it? For the first time in his life, Jacques was self-conscious about his inadequate backside.

On a coffee table next to the armchair there was a drained cup of coffee and a clipboard. He picked it up and pulled from within a slim stack of paper. From which he now randomly took one with the apprehension of someone pulling her fortune from a deck of cards.

For a minute he seemed to be in deep contemplation of what was written there. But in reality he was pondering over his voice. So far he had employed the girlish, childish voice demanded by heroines of humble intellect, like Juliet. But would not a sultry voice fit better a middle-aged woman who smokes? In the end he decided against it so as not to compromise his character.

“Now tell me,” he said sweetly while handing the singer the page he had picked, “what you see in this.”

The print paper was dominated by a large inky blob, which, perhaps, resembled either a pig, a weather vane, or a monitor lizard.

“And what memory it reminds you of, too.”


 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
Operation Burning Heartthrob
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, August 10th 2021
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Vulken
Operation Burning Heartthrob
Charlie's shoes almost screeched as his stiff body was pushed forward, eventually leaving him standing a few steps away from the bar counter. He looked behind his shoulder, confused and pleading eyes staring at Vulken for a handful of seconds. He looked just like an overwhelmed child on the first day of school, staring back at his parent begging him for the two to simply turn back and return home for television and pizza. He sighed in defeat, his turning his face forward once more.

"Someone I like, huh..." hands placed atop his hips, the boy scanned his surroundings. The place was certainly pretty full of attractive people, the great majority already striking conversations with each other. It was certainly a bit intimidating to approach, who knows how a small group would react if he were to interject somehow? Well, not like he had much of a choice anyways, given he cold still feel Vulken's watchful eye over him, he really was between a rock and a hard place.

Someone managed to meet the criteria, however. A good-looking lady, a little tall, with moccha skin and a long, black ponytail, wearing short jeans and a cute teal tank top, not exactly the kind of woman that usually catches the boy's interest, but he still found her alluring regardless, she was sitting alone at one of the ends of the bar counter, seemingly enjoying a drink in solitude.

Charlie swallowed, slowly mustering the willpower to approach the woman. Shaky legs moving forward, taking deliberate and robotic steps towards her. "Oh?" Her phone vibrated from atop the counter, her eyes lighting up as she saw the name on display? "Hii~" Charlie remained static, respecting her time on the phone, and waiting for her to finish before he made any move.

"How are you doing honey? Oh sounds fun. Me? Oh I'm just having a drink, having some fun. Can't wait for you to come back though~"

Almost as if no other move in his body articulated whatsoever, Charlie rotated his entire body a hundred-and-eighty degrees, a static, artificial smile on his face as he simply walked away.

He then noticed another woman. This one was shorter, with a cute chestnut bob cut and wearing a short white dress. Thinking it was too early to throw in the towel, he approached her calmly, or at least, as calmly as he could. His sudden approach quickly caught her attention.

"Oh? Yes, can I help you?" She asked, nonchalantly.

"H-H....." The boy's lips trembleed the words were there, stuck in a hard knot in his throat, but pushing them was not working in the slightest.

"...You okay?" She stared at him quizzically, a combination of slightly worried and slightly weirded out by the sudden boy now staring at her wordlessly.

"...H-Haydon!"

"Huh?"

"Joshua H-Haydon! What do you think about him? Personally I think he was one of the most influential composers back in the day, but I also feel like he ended up overshadowing some of his peers at the time, some who I believe outclassed him outright!"

"Uh, what?"
Her eyebrow begun twitching slightly, her irritation starting to become visible.

"Like Frederick Howitzer, to think he employed him, early in his career, only for Joshua to leave him to bite the dust just a few years later..." He folded his arms, nodding to himself with closed eyes. "Sure, the Keisterhyme is great and all but the motifs were never that strong to me, you see back during his thirti-" He faced the woman again. His lips stopping the auto-pilot mode once he noticed he was, in fact, facing absolutely no one, not anymore, at least.

It took him a solid second to realize what happened, he could feel the massive weight of a metaphorical dunce hat placed atop his head. Finishing his walk of shame, he threw his arms over the counter, face down squished by the hard oak.

"I don't think I'm made for thissssssss..."


@Nobody Special
 
Last edited:
ERIC EVENSEN
SCENE:
Bitter Aftertaste
LOCATION:
The Cerulean Orchid, South District
TIME:
Nighttime, Post Arc 3 June 7th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Callista, Eric
Bitter Aftertaste
The drunkard's glare was met with the most blank and emotionless of poker faces he might've prescensed in his entire life, the juxtaposition between the warm color of his eyes and the endless cold of their expression, it wasn't unheard of to cause discomfort among his peers in the past.

Once his sihouette had disappeared from their vision in its entirety, the detective let gravity take a hold of his body, his rear landing on the cushioned stool. Catching wind of the woman's remark, he stared in silence for a second before motioning to reach for his pocket. He pretended to pull out a long and thin object, acting as if he helf it beside him, he then tugged at its non-existent based, pretending as if something now hovered above him.

"Thanks for the reminder, I usually forget how bad the weather can get."

Dropping his little act, he spun atop his seat, now facing the counter once more. Thin fingers grabbed a hold of his glass, pressing the rim against his lips for a quick sip, all the while listening to the woman.

"Can't say there's any particular reason" He retorted calmly, eyes staring at the reflection of his drink. "Sometimes it's good to find a way to break free from the routine, even if it's just for one week, you know?"

He stared back, his cold stare remaining unchanged, except for the faintest view of a smile in his visage. "Name's Tyler, by the way, good to meetcha." He leaned over, closing the distance between them just the smallest amount, his index knuckle poking at his chin. "And what should I call ya? I mean, I can keep calling you Cuz if you want, but I'd prefer having an actual name."

He took another sip of his drink, the deep, bitter coffee notes soothing his throat. "And what brings a pretty young lady such as yourself to a bar on a tuesday night? Feels like we're both a little out of place here, if you ask me." Her in particular, considering her clothes look like they could pay for his rent for a few months.


@W I N T E R
 
CAR INSURANCE COMMERCIALS DON'T MENTION YOU SHOULD HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE.


Lorette Lècuyer. CS LINK
Scene:
Car Insurance Commercials Don't Mention You Should Have Health Insurance.
Location: West District.
Participants: Lorette, Shishido Takakazu.


Stupid people did stupid things. This fact was branded in Lorette's mind and one that often strove to the forefront should the proof of such a thing present itself. She was never wanting for that proof. Every day, without fail, someone would make a profoundly idiotic choice before her. And every time, without fail, Lorette would be forced to deal with the fallout.

It could be argued that the Veteran Tiger had low criteria for anything she deemed foolish. Existing within Lorette's direct line of sight was often the dumbest thing anybody could do most days. A mistake Lorette graciously tolerated because she'd yet to achieve the level of world domination that allowed her to make billions of people fuck off into space. Or beneath the ocean. Or stay indoors where she didn't have to see anyone. Her options were quite varied.

Watching a grown man crash his shitty little motorbike into her car was stupid enough. He didn't seem interested in obeying the traffic signs posted everywhere, and here, Lorette was paying the price for it. The same man extracting himself from her shattered windshield and hopping on his much worse-for-the-wear vehicle to make his escape was some extraordinarily single-digit IQ behavior.

Lorette understood the logic behind his actions. The West district was the last place in New Oasis where someone would want to rack up a debt. Getting out of Dodge was the best decision if they were unfortunate enough to find themselves in the red with people higher on the food chain than themselves.

Where the rider had messed up, however, was crashing into Lorette's car. And it was a fucking Toyota.

Even if he had gotten the scrap pile he was sitting on started, he wouldn't have gotten far. It couldn't have been that fast to begin with. But Lorette wanted to spare herself the effort of an unnecessary run and swiftly moved in on the man. Grabbing him by the shirt collar, she hoisted him bodily off of the bike and turned him to face her. The poor moped teetered over to hit the ground again with a resounding clang. It would not be missed.

Turning the rider to face her, Lorette kept the man's shirt in her grip and held him there like a misbehaving kitten held by the scruff of the neck. He was as worn down as the bike he was riding, and Lorette knew he didn't have a fraction of the money needed to repair her car. She was okay with that. Sweat, tears, and blood were acceptable forms of payment in her eyes.

She didn't say anything at first, stopping to take a drown-out sip of her espresso.

"God damn that is fresh."

With the drink officially graded as some really good shit, Lorette felt ready to get down to business.

"I'm giving you one opportunity to tell me why I shouldn't turn you inside out in the middle of the street."

Her voice was curt but level. It was the kind of tone a person would use when discussing the details of minor appointments. Lorette was not in danger, and his family wouldn't be either if the guy were smart enough not to bring them up.

Before the poor sod could muster up a defense, the crunch of glass alerted Lorette to the presence of another. A good thing, Allister could help her strongarm the man into obedience if he decided to test his luck.

"Why is the windshield on the ground?"

Lorette shook her trapped victim to emphasize his part in answering Allister's question.

"Ask him. He's the dumbass that crashed through it."

Allister took in the car's dented bumper and hood, the once pristine paint job left scarred by the crash. He pursed his lips, nodded, and spoke directly to the man in Lorette's clutches.

"That's super fucked up what you did to La Toyota."

"Allister, you can't keep saying hilarious shit while I'm threatening people. Now I'll have to break one of his legs to prove I'm serious." Lorette huffed amusedly.

"It's not a joke," her assistant forced out amid his laughter. She was minding her own business, and this guy just hated to see it."

The guy in question, now under the scrutiny of both Lorette and Allister, looked to be running out of options for a bloodless solution to his dilemma. Something Lorette was all too happy to point out.

"I know damn well you don't have insurance, so do your best to sell me on the idea of not putting you in a wheelchair." She demanded.



thebigfella thebigfella
 
Keith Sullivan
CS Link
SCENE:
Teeth for a Tail
LOCATION:
Zenith Tower, East District
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, June 23rd 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Keith, Cilian, Jessamine, Jesper, Ayame
Teeth for a Tail
The group was able to effortlessly move forward without any inconveniences as they traversed further into the building, so far. Keith had mixed feelings about the uneventful entrance; On one hand, he was extremely nervous, as this was no doubt his biggest task in the Azure Dragons ever since he joined less than two weeks ago, the prospect of fighting the enemy forces here making him quite distraught, knowing there were no sable serpents to face around, his bloodlust was basically null.

On the other hand, the fact there were no defenses here at first only meant that their forces would be more condensed further ahead. He could only hope that he and his allies would be enough for the job.

The boy stared up at the number atop the closed elevator's door, slowly rising as they approached their destination. "I hope we can make it out safely..."

As his mind drifted away, his body subconsciously prepared for battle. From his fingertips erupted ferrous protrustions, razor-sharp talons extending a good three inches past his fingertips. His hands also generally grew in size, the sound of bone, marrow and muscle twisting and morphing echoing through the limited space around them until they reached about twice their original size. Lastly, his arms extended, growing in length down until they reached past his knees and nearly to his calves.

Despite the ugly and disturbing appearance of his limbs, as well as the seemingly agonizing way they shifted into their current shape, Keith didn't bat an eye, as if such a change was as natural to him as breathing.

"Once the doors open...I'll try to grab the enemies' attention" He said, turning around to face the others. "I think I can dodge whatever they throw at me...Maybe that can give you all a chance to attack by then."

simj26 simj26 @BluEndings @AriAriAbabwa
 
MARKUS WEISS
SCENE:
Blood Within The Pavement Cracks
TIME:
July 9th, 2022 | | Post-Arc 3
LOCATION:
Central District Sewers
PARTICIPANTS:
Dagger, Markus
BLOOD WITHIN THE PAVEMENT CRACKS
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. By the time he'd opened it for a second time—by the time he'd thought of the words he'd been meaning to say—she was already gone.

"Tsk."

He gazed down after her. It was just a moment, one that swiftly passed. And afterward, the Tiger King descended along behind her, landing with authority in the bowels of Central.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. He wrinkled his nose. It was like vomit, piss and shit got together to invent a new, and somehow worse-smelling bodily excretion. Against his better judgment, he thought about trying to crack a joke, then thought better of it. By the time he'd come back around to giving it a go again, she was gone. Again.

His face wore a frown. It was more than just the river of piss-shit that he jogged beside.

Nine months.

Nine months ago to the day an attempt had been made on his life. Nine months ago to the day he—

He didn't need to talk about it. Hadn't talked about it. And if what he'd heard was to be believed, well...

As the sound of her wolves drew further away, Markus hastened his stride until they were shoulder-to-shoulder. The cramped walkway made it difficult, but he'd managed it. "Listen, I—" he cut himself off. The gangway narrowed up ahead. He fell back. They continued single-file until the path widened enough that he could again run beside her. "Don't worry about it. We're good."

He refused to elaborate, though it wasn't like he'd get the chance. Up ahead of them, the sewer was changing. Markus skidded to a halt. What the fuck?

It was all he could think before their route was altered for them, the way forward becoming uncertain. Suddenly, the weight of all of that earth overhead became acutely apparent. Grinding his teeth, he felt toothless rage bubble up from within him. This rat thought he could play games with them? With him?! Markus was gonna drown him in the shit-river before this was done.

 
HECTOR MOSES
SCENE:
Bedlam Blitz!
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 — July 10th, 2021; Early morning
LOCATION:
Whiteleaf, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Hector, Milo, Yukari, Raquel, Leaf, Zach
BEDLAM BLITZ!

Hector stood behind the others, for once not announcing his presence loudly, though he had been noticed by some anyway. He wished he had given Raquel a refresher on proper etiquette before she had the chance to interact with the man, but what’s done is done.

“Don’t worry.” He muttered under his breath, not breaking eye contact with the old man as he addressed Zach. Having arrived late to the conversation, some of the key context was lost, but it wasn’t too hard to fill the gaps. All he was focusing on was trying to remember what he knew about an Armond. That, and assessing at what point he would need to step in. That point was rapidly approaching.

They were lucky the man seemed to be too vulnerable to have his doubts about the situation. While the size of the group wasn’t ideal for a chat, the confusion they mounted on seemed to be helping. Classic scammer’s tactic. Despite how things seemed to be going in their favour despite the clumsy approach, the constant chiming in, whispering, chaos set Hector’s teeth on edge. Why wasn’t Boltius leading this conversation.

”Alright, alright.”

Hector spoke over the chatter, pushing through to Bolt’s side as he faced the man.

”Sorry, our guys have been a little over-eager He waved away those closest to the man and sidled up to him, smiling as warmly as he could under the circumstances. They came here to find out what was going on, and getting an audience with the mystery man may be their best option. The mystery was the tough part, though, but they’d get no further to clearing that up with the current strategy.

”Maybe you’d rather talk about this inside? We can go over anything that needs clearing up.”

Heck, it would help Hector, as he still missed to full context of what kind of deal they were trying to strike.

”I was running a little late, but I’ve got the most authority here, so I oughta have been the one to break any news about these shipments.”

Trying to play nice didn’t sit too well with Hector, especially if he had been facilitating the attacks on their turf, but he was always ready to play the bad guy if it came to that.
 
SYLVIE SLEZÁK
SCENE:
Reaching The Heavens From Hell
TIME:
Pre Arc-3
LOCATION:
West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Sylvie Slezák, Shishido Takakazu
Reaching The Heavens From Hell
Sylvie grinned as he received a mound of chips to add to his already impressive pile, and laughed along with those beside him as the group collectively cheered. Luck was in the air tonight for some, it seemed, and the arrival of the young man seemed to boost spirits greatly. As soon as the winnings were handed out, already different coloured chips were being thrown out to the table, treated with about as much regard as monopoly money. Surrounding Sylvie were a group of women, faces caked with heavy makeup and dresses barely modest enough to allow entry to the establishment. Sparkling banners adorned each lady, “Bride-to-be”, “Maid of Honour”, and a gaggle of “Bridesmaid”s, and it seemed Sylvie had inadvertently become the groups mascot as soon as he made his first bet.

“What are we thinking, ladies?”

A cacophony of voices rang out with their luckiest numbers, even other who were keeping to themselves, the chronic gamblers long stripped of their passion for the game were getting involved.

“Okay, okay! Let’s go!”

The mad rush continued, hands scrambling to finalise their bets, and Sylvie made a mistake at this point. He was getting cocky. The safer bets had little appeal, and he instead put his trust in whatever suggestions he could make out among his new friends, risking half his hoard on specific numbers. As the croupier called for no more bets, he stood back, biting his knuckle as he remembered the stakes.

And there went his chips. He laughed, playing off the loss. He could always just get more money, right? What’s another loan among what he already owes? Things weren’t at that point yet though, and he still had a respectable stack of chips left. Sylvie wondered what the weird man was up to. He seemed pretty useless at the whole gambling thing, but what if it was just a ruse? He couldn’t let himself get shown up, so he had to go all out!

Where now?

He watched everyone throw their chips around again, the frenzied atmosphere causing some ire to the croupier as they watched the chaos. Sylvie’s pile of chips sat guarded by his trembling hands as he examined every option.

Red? Black? Which group of numbers?

Fuck it.

Summoning all the confidence that remained, he placed all his chips in neat piles over the empty 0, and murmured a prayer.

”Wooooo!”

Sylvie felt a pat on the back, and another give his shoulder an affectionate shake as the group went wild. They all saw what happened before it registered to him. He looked over to the wheel, where the ball was now on 0. He couldn’t do the maths in his head of how much money his now much larger stack of chips were now, but he felt comfortably in the lead, and it was right on cue.

“Y-You…!?”

“Oh, hello my friend! You have gotten bored of your little slot games?”

He leaned an arm on the table, earning more ire from the croupier, making more space for Tak to come closer. It was near impossible to talk among the raucous crowd.

“You’ve come just in time! We are having a very lucky time here. You could be lucky as well, if you have any more chips to spend?” He peered around, trying to see if Tak had anything to spend. The action carried on without him, and he felt more smug with every passing moment.

“If you look here, I have done quite well for myself, wouldn’t you agree?” He sipped at a new drink as he waited for Tak to share his results.

“If you’re not going to make any more bets, stop hogging the space.”

The croupier gestured to those watching the table, but their plea fell on deaf ears.

 
DARIUS KENNEDY
SCENE:
Dissonant Ichors
LOCATION:
Alleyway, East District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: December 21, 2020 -- Dusk
PARTICIPANTS:
Darius, Shen, Raph
DISSONANT ICHORS

“You have no idea what I just went through man, come on.”

Darius’s frenzied pleads ceased, already defeated. Deflated, he sunk against the bars imprisoning him, giving him a little wriggle room but still not nearly enough for it to be of any worth. Maybe letting him scream wouldn’t be so bad, if he wasn’t planning on doing anything better. Even if he was freed by someone with worse intentions, it would give him more of a chance than he’d have against starvation. He thought about the monster again, having almost forgotten about the mess on the ground in his fear. Were there more of them? There must be.

“L-look, I was hoping you’d be kind enough to help me, but you’re leaving me with no choice.” He raised his voice, but there was still a trembling to it that sabotaged any attempts to be assertive. “Surely you’re familiar with the gangs. You don’t want them to be your enemy, do you?”

Maybe this was a huge mistake. It probably was. He should’ve just let the bastard start screaming. He was in this deep now, he wondered if revealing the gang would give him more of a chance. Maybe letting him know he was on a mission sent directly by the Queen would give him just enough credibility as a threat.

“If you don’t free me, you’ll have a whole district after you.”
 
Raquel Filo
SCENE:
Bedlam Blitz
LOCATION:
Whiteleaf, South District; driving...
Time:
Post-Arc 3 — July 10th, 2021; Early morning
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Hector, Milo, Yukari, Raquel, Leaf, Zach
Bedlam Blitz

How green were these Rookies?

If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect that Charlie discovered clone technology and made duplicates of himself. That would be a disaster of the highest caliber. But, no, it was just Milo and the new face. Milo, who was currently touching her without permission. Her eyes narrowed at Milo, but her voice was directed to Leaf. "Well, he was going to die anyway. Sooner, rather than later I suppose." Old and decrepit as he was, he'd probably pass away later rather than now.

Zach followed soon and now Hector was near. In the corner of her eye, Boltius seemed tense. Raquel wasn't an idiot when it came to reading the room and she wasn't that famished irrationally attack someone.

Or was she?

"I understand, I understand," Raquel said as she gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. Letting go of the old man, she'd leave so that Zach and Hector could deal with interrogating the poor, old man. But now with the old man out of the way, Raquel was left one target. Her eyes met Milo and her smile becoming more foreboding. "Happy now? Oh, so, terrifying Rookie of the Scarlet Phoenixes. 'That's enough! Let him go!' You sure do spare a lot of concern for others."

She flash her full set of white teeth at Milo. "You should spare some for yourself."

Her head lunged at the Rookie in a blur. At this distance, nobody could stop and other people were distracted with the situation at hand. Her eyes caught the full glimpse of Milo's face and as she opened her mouth.

"Poof!" She blew air into his ear.

A mischevious grin grew on her face as she pulled off Milo's arm from her shoulder. "I bet I gotcha there~ Teheeee" Without giving Milo a chance to respond, Raquel backed away from the conversation.

Milo was still a Phoenix after all, regrettably, so she couldn't hurt him badly. A harmless prank or too would suffice for now. Though if she had to wait any longer, she'd have to see what old man tasted like.




Elenion Aura Elenion Aura Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten @QuirkyAngel @Haze-
 
MILO NAGISA
SCENE:
The Guy Who Wrote “Art Is In The Eye Of The Beholder” Probably Did It On The Toilet
TIME:
May 3rd, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Tak, Milo
THE GUY WHO WROTE “ART IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER” PROBABLY DID IT ON THE TOILET

There was something to be said for first impressions and appearances.

What was the first thing you noticed about the stranger you passed on the street this morning? Was it their hair? Their outfit? The way they walked? Did you imagine what kind of person they ought to be, based on the accumulation of all of those surface-level details? Were you probably right?

In that moment, Milo thought to himself that people weren't really all that complicated. Seldom were they more than the sum of their parts.

Legitimate or not, Barker was right about one thing: humans were like works of art. Mirrors and windows, both. The creation, reflecting its creator. The outer manifestation, approximating the inner self. Soul and body, body and soul.

What, then, was he to make of these people? What did his keenly trained eyes tell him? What were these artists trying to convey?

Up first was the ever-eager, ever-green Novice. His lot was to be daunted, out of his depth. Easily inspired, easily influenced, eyes wide with the hunger of the uninitiated, the hunger to absorb, to mold, and to be molded. His art was the art of Becoming.

Up next, serving as foil to the Novice, was the Traditionalist. Draped in the trappings of the old ways, of classical aesthetic forms, he believed that beauty was a measurable, calculable entity. But Milo thought, there was no understanding there. No improvisation. Only rote memorization and regurgitation. He'd perched himself on the shoulders of giants, and mistook their height for his own.

Milo didn't believe in savants, which left only one element unaccounted for. Thus, he circled back to the reason for these assessments. Standing before Barker had assured him of two things

One - he was even more convinced of his course, even if it continued to appear as if his suspicions were unfounded, and
Two - if he was going to achieve anything here, it would not be alone.

Milo knew he would need allies. Accomplices. Or, at the very least, scapegoats in case things went awry.

And so he came to Tak. He reviewed what he'd learned up until now. Tak reminded him of Boltius, only mangier. He was vulgar almost to the point of parody. Was it an act? A clever ruse? Milo didn't think so. He thought Tak was both an idiot and, more importantly, not an artist. This was the single most confounding piece of evidence to date. If what Milo expected was going on here was true, then how—and why—did a person like Tak end up getting an invitation?

'Cherry boy?' He blinked, noting the unfamiliar weight upon his shoulder. His nose crinkled, either from the man's smell or the anticipation of one.

Kehiro was out. He was too old, and likely too enamored of Barker to ever see the truth. The girl was out, too.

Kelsey and Tak would suffice.

As they walked, following the crowd toward Barker's next destination, Milo made his opening gambit. Peering over at the two men beside him, he asked, "So, how did you guys hear about this thing?"

 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
[Late-Night Chase]
TIME:
Nighttime, Post Arc 1
LOCATION:
Aksher Co. Offices, Sound District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Minato
Late-Night Chase
"Hmph, now that's something I'm willing to believe."

Well, even if that much was true... Just who was this strangely selfless employer then? The one fueling this criminal's actions. Were the intruders from yesterday also led by this same root?

Regardless of what he was thinking, the phoenix had made up his mind. Whatever risk of compromising this already morally questionably company absolutely paled in comparison to the risks the banana-haired man claimed.

Like a cat being reprimanded by the scruff of its neck, Charlie lifted the man by the back of his shirt, dropping him unceremoniously on the designated chair. "Sounds like you'll do this faster" He uttered, snapping the metal bindings in half with a quick twisting motion. "Just don't forget what I told you~" The phoenix remarked in an unusually playful manner, his elbows resting atop the other's shoulders, anchoring him in place should he decide to do anything drastic.

Following the heart is a fifty-fifty gamble, its result soon to be seen.


Elenion Aura Elenion Aura
 
ERIC EVENSEN
SCENE:
Overcast, in Saline
LOCATION:
Clemency Private Hospital, Central District
TIME:
Post Arc 3 || July 7th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Eric, Pei, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante
Overcast, in Saline
The bowl of soup was met with a blank, seemingly uncaring stare. Not like most would expect anything else from the seemingly stone-cold detective. He stared at the diminutive droplets of oil floating on the meal's surface. A gentle motion of his hand stirred the plastic spoon around, cupping equal measures of meat, greens and broth. Eric made sure to savor the mouthful, making sure he could give a thorough review.

"It's kinda bad, yeah."

Another spoonful went in, hunger and apathy trumped the distate by tenfold.

"It's like somebody forgot that salt is a thing, cabbage is embarassingly soggy, too."


He continued to 'enjoy' his meal, as passive ears listened to the crippled woman talk. Her words feeling like a middle point between a question and a plea. "Hm, dunno." He replied drily, eyes still set on his food. "Whoever that man may be, he's a criminal who needs to be captured and faced with the full wrath of the law." Not even an explanation stopped him from continuing his nourishment, this time audibly struggling with a particularly chewy piece of poorly-rendered sinew. "If it puts you at ease, things have been quite busy for me as of late. It's been so bad that lately I've only managed to get two power naps a day at the office...So I don't think I'll have that luxury."

With half-finished bowl in hand. The detective stared back at Passeri. "Although I need to make something clear." He raised his spoon, rudely pointing at the woman. "If you think danger is a deterrent, then you're misunderstanding how the Golden Chimeras work, I may not look like it but I'm no stranger to death's door"

Shoulders jutting up, the man shrugged. "And even worse, my buddy Inigo might call me a weenie if I don't step up, now that's a fate worse than death if you ask me, he can be so cold to me sometimes, it's very painful."

The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit simj26 simj26 thebigfella thebigfella @gxxberkit The Regal Rper The Regal Rper
 
CAMILA GASPARI
CS Link
SCENE:
Call to Arms
TIME:
Post-Outbreak, July 23 2022
LOCATION:
Ryutaro's Rooftop Garden, Imperial Gardens Condominiums, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Ryutaro
Call to Arms
Shit shit fuck shit goddamnit bullshit FUCK.

Any person with a respectable amount of experience in the field knows that, should they play their card rights, a rabbit is able to band with lions. But Camila, the ambitious monochrome rabbit, found herself pawing at the lion's mouth a little too much.

The elebator's rise to the top was a painfully slow one, her sights gradually rising from the ground, the view through the tempered glass growing grander on scope. Her foot tapped impatiently as her forehead turned damp, a paper tissue soon after wiping it clean.

In nearly every other scenario, the witty tiger would've been over the moon after being called personally by one of the leaders of the gang. A true golden opportunity that she wold not let go to waste. However, if there was one person very much aware of the contentious and simmering state of the Albino Tigers, it was Camila. Whatever the Queen wanted from her, it had to be related to the inevitable conflict, one that the girl had hoped to take no part in, simply prefering to show passive support towards what she believed to be the winning side.

A low pitch sound signaled the arrival to the penthouse, the heavy doors slowly opening their way for the woman. She stood there for a second that felt longer than it really was. Understanding she was simply delaying the inevitable, she stepped forward. Being immediately informed of where Ryutaro's location was through the guidance of the music, she stepped out into the rooftop, staring in light awe at the impressive garden. Unfortunately, she didn't feel much for enjoying it, knowing the company she was with at the moment.

"Not at all, sir. Once I arrived at the building, asking where to go to reach the famous Hashimoto was a breeze." She walked idly, her fingertips brushing up against the leaves of a fruit tree. "It's a beautiful place, sometimes I get the itch of buying a place with a nice garden such as this." She added, lightly pressing the immature fruit between her fingers. "But for now I'm content growing strawberries in pots."


joshuadim joshuadim
 
Helva Linxal
SCENE:
To live in the shadows
LOCATION:
Warehouse, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Helva, Zulin, Charlie Roda the Red Roda the Red
To live in the shadows

This fight has dragged on longer than Helva anticipated but she wasn't in any real rush, for Charlie this was a trial, for her this was like a bit of training that allowed her to adapt to fighting different types of potentials. He was strong and durable, though there were solutions for dealing with those types of people they were more on the deadly side of things and she wasn't trying to kill her trialees. Instead she went with the basic strategy of wearing him down and she was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to handle too many more attacks if she kept it up. But she had to admit though the boy was determined, Revernant was focused in on him and was prepared to make another pounce towards him until Charlie charged through one of the boxes. A change of tactic was something Helva expected could be the case which meant that she had to change her tactics a bit, first she needed to identify just what his plan was. She wasn't going to charge in after him since she expected a counter attack would most likely result in that, so she instead took a step back and took to the defense. It wasn't until she heard rummaging through the crates that she figured out his plans, using his environmint to his advantage, crafty but not something new to her. Though she didn't know what was all within the warehouse as she wasn't the one to place the boxes here, she did know that there were a lot of things that one could use here to help them in combat, and she didn't really consider the option of waiting and finding out to be the best solution.

So with the option of moving forward she did so, though with not as much speed as before, she moved fast but cautiously as she didn't know what to full expect. That was until the boy busted out of the crate causing it to crumble before she could reach it, her eyes quickly locked on to Charlie and a low growl could be heard as she was prepared to advance towards him, but before she could even try to do he had charged and tackled her. Something she didn't expect since she had worn him down earlier, then again adrenaline may of helped him in that or maybe it was that small amount of recovery time he managed to make for himself. While the tackle did manage to knocked her off her feet she was able to quickly recover allowing herself to move to the ground before rolling back in order to get into a position where she can quickly use her feet to pounce towards him. Only to be met with what looked to be most likely a net, something she actually didn't expect, she didn't have enough time to dodge it nor was she in the correct position to back peddle away.

When the net landed on her she tried to claw herself a gap in order to quickly escape it only to realize that it was way more durable than anticipated, caused her to growl a bit in annoyance as Charlie had been able to capitalize. Flinging her across the room, she went through multiple wooden boxes before finally hitting a wall, it hurt way more than quite a bit, but she was able to throw the net off her, and get up. It hurt quite a lot and she was sure she would be feeling that blow for a while now after this fight, if she really wanted to she could push past the pain and go in for another round and more than likely win at the end of this but it seemed clear to her that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Plus he had managed to get this far without having quit or passing out yet, not only that she herself had taken enough damage to the point that it had become grating. She took a short pause in their fight for a moment in a attempt to recover before giving Zulin the controls and allowing him to Charge back to where Charlie was at, with clawed hands they moved like a Tiger on all fours before sliding across the floor in front of Charlie, staring at him like a Tiger would eye it's prey. But before he could make any attack Helva took over moving on to her own two feet swaying a bit as she glared at him. The Shadows on her body shifted a bit but kept her ambiguous, as she closely watched Charlie trying to gauge a reaction from him.

Before charging towards him, she carefully watched each of Charlies movements and her charge was really a bluff and she had no intent to reengage him, pretty much done with the trial. But she wanted to see how he would react to this situation when all of his attempts to take her down had failed him so far, but regardless of what he did she fully intended to jump off to the side and make a retreat into the darkness.

 
Elise Cutter
SCENE:
Telephone Line
TIME:
July 20th, 2022
LOCATION:
North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Dagger
Telephone Line
She had to admit, it was a pretty good joke. Suburban kid, with a loving father, and a life that was advertised as part of the Amestrian dream, outside of the whole thing with a single father, real saccharine shit, and she somehow turned out to be a scavenger picking up scraps in trash heaps, paying for her food in other people's blood. Meanwhile, this other kid comes from a shitty neighbourhood, druggies and their purchases littering the streets, along with all the shit and piss. Elise didn't have a clue how her parents were, but seeing as she was closer to her grandmother, it was a safe bet that they weren't particularly shining examples. Yet, here she was, the rising star of an entertainment industry. What made the joke even funnier was the fact that both of them were now in the same van, trundling down the poison-filled recesses that were North District's streets. Even the sun peeking over the horizon did little to flatter the image. If anything, the dark had hidden away most of its imperfections, and the light only made it more, in a word, depressing.

While her observations would have given her some level of entertainment on any other day, and perhaps even summoned the tiniest ghost of a smile just to spite any other person in her company, today was not any other day, and the one with her was not any other person. Elise Cutter was notoriously bad at tasting the various emotional states of others, but when it came to the colours of misery, she was what one would deem a sommelier, and right about now, the princess was daubed in one such colour.

Elise recognised that colour. Reminiscences that were painful for her, things she didn't want to talk about. Sour memories, of people and places she didn't want to revisit. No small wonder. This place was a wreck. Elise would know- she lived here once, camped out in a family friend's house. The Princess was losing weight, too. Her stress and her worries were getting to her.

She opened her mouth to issue a rebuttal towards the princess's insistence that she not give the floors of the apartment building fresh red paint, thought about it, then zipped up. She was right. Elise was never really the patient type, and she had long learned that excruciating pain was often the best method for extracting information.

“I'll try. No promises.” Blood was how she got things done. She had to level the playing ground somehow.

The van trundled to a stop, and the engine's rumble shut off. She stepped out of the van, making a few minor adjustments to her overcoat, just enough so she could feel the weapon tucked under her arm, and the other sheathed behind her back. The various sketchy personnel she had clocked on their way here was a source of caution. A wilting weed like her never caught much attention here, amongst the trash heap, but a rose like the princess was bound to tug at some eyes. Even when shrouded by the hood over her head, a beautiful flower never escaped attention for long. Especially not someone like Passeri Park.

“Mail room, huh?” Looks like they were going to be sorting through names. Not that she knew who or what she was looking for, but at the very least, she was keeping the princess company. It certainly kept her mind off things, just watching her.

Honestly, she wished she could do more. Just watching the princess drag her feet like that, looking so haggard, so tired, she wished she could just pick her up, and carry her over, to just tell her that everything would be fine, to help in any way she can. Every time she moved to do any one of those things, however, her body would freeze, as if it knew that this was a mistake.

Even if she was a HP now, her mind refused to accept that. Even if she was technically a free woman now, she could not bear hurting someone else by being close to them. It hurt to know what ailed her, and that there was nothing she could do.

“C'mon, ‘Seri. Let's get this over with.” She tucked her hands in the pockets of her coat, stalking over in the direction that the princess had directed her.

She tried the knob. It wasn't locked, no. Rather, it was stuck. She cursed, loosing a few choice expletives, and planted her boot into the side of the door, sending it flying open, alongside a few stray shards of wood. The smell of yellowing paper and aged wood and metal wafted out. How old was this building? And when was the last renovation? At the very least, it was now easier to open.

“After you, ‘Seri.” She gestured to the open door.

 
THE POPE
SCENE:
Thou Shalt Not Detonate
LOCATION:
Sewers beneath the Pleasure District, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
THE POPE, Lloyd Sorvocah, Renjiro Ikeda, Yonna Kowloong, Aerith Rozárie
Thou Shalt Not Detonate
“The Pope.”

In response to the holy maiden’s calling, the pipes above shuddered and creaked as a large black mass snaked around them like rainwash through the branches of a tree. The shapeless moving swarm congealed above Areith. A large device emerged from within it, a device which thrummed with their holy purpose. Five tendrils, countless members of The Pope moving in unison to birth murky fingers, extended and lowered the thrumming device down to Areith. As the device descended its pulses created undulations in The Pope’s form which traveled like waves up through the amorphous spires of krill and then reverberated out through the labyrinthine pipework like a heartbeat.

Once the device had been gently offered before Areith, the tendrils moved around her like shimmering ribbons of shadow and then pooled downward, infiltrating the waterfalls of waste and diffusing within their cascade. The presence of the shapeless intelligence within the water made the sewage rapidly undergo a metamorphosis of quality as the krill feasted on the detritus within and multiplied rapidly.

Once the Pope had unenveloped the device, it was revealed to be the vintage diving suit that the swarm of half-sentient krill normally inhabited. It appeared to have been emptied of its denizens and been fashioned into a large bomb. Explosives had been affixed to its inner lining with crude, yet no doubt effective, wiring laced within its limbs and head. In the chest of the diving suit a large cylinder rotated as it steadily rose up, then struck downward powerfully revealing itself as the source of the loud reverberating beats which echoed out through the cavern. A faint glow came from within the suit, the rhythmic pounding of the cylinder served to accumulate energy into a strange material which would then detonate once it crossed a certain threshold, repaying the beating the material was absorbing back to the world around it thousand fold in a detonation of holy flame.

The Pope flowed away from the payload, pumped from the heart of darkness into the arterial network of pipes that the Dragons now descended into. The water of the sewer system had now adopted an oily black appearance and from its lapping came no sound. Then from the liquid grew millions of thin bristling needles which carpeted every surface of the water, reminiscent of the hair on the back of a frightened cat. These hairs began to finely vibrate in righteous susurration, producing a chant of many voices which began to sing to the Dragons in harmony with the beating of the bomb.

Si nos amas serva nos

Serva nos si nos amas
 
August "TAZZ" August
SCENE:
Feelers in the Deep
TIME:
Post-Outbreak — July 18th, 2022; Late
LOCATION:
Beyond the outskirts of North District
PARTICIPANTS:
August, Rytaro
FEELERS IN THE DEEP
To be frank, August had little interest in involving too many players in his game of Jengo—the first block had yet to be pulled, the tower yet to be shaken. People were hard to trust, especially those with, presumably, grand aspirations like the Queen of the Albino Tigers.

August observed him utilizing the zoom function on his phone, regardless of its shattered screen. Blanketed in shadows and crouched atop the mossy, flat roof of a computer repair shop, closed for the night and seemingly short of business by its unkempt state, he chewed his thumbnail and pondered his approach.

Out of all the people who could have sought him out, Ryutaro was one of the least August expected.

During his two years as a Tiger, August had kept very close to himself, dawning his mask, goggles, and beanie at all times. Only a select few knew his name and face, maybe more than he knew. More than he would have liked at the time; though, these days he spared minimal effort toward the practice of anonymity. Anonymity he’d once stressed per the belief that he would one day be free from the gangs.

Funny.

August broke from his ruminations with a start, a determined spark materializing in his gaze as he stood and stepped off the roof, descending fast before cushioning his landing with a cloud of wind. Approaching slowly, gait relaxed, he slipped his phone away and stuck up a hand in waving. “‘Ello ya majesty.”

His lips wore the slightest of a grin, eyes lidded with their usual tire. “Ya look sharp.”

He closed in with each step, the air growing denser by the shrinking distance between them. Two to one—were there more? August wondered but kept his eyes on the Queen. Could he lose them if he ran? Probably. August was good at getting away.

The sound of footsteps ceased when August reached a point of too-close for comfort, just on the verge.

“Would’ve dressed bettah but… pent’ouse was sacked when ah got back.” His tone was lighthearted, spoken as if he were recalling a fond memory. “But’chu knew that.” August clicked his teeth and winked.
AUGUST NOTES​
— —POST RECAP: August approaches Ryutaro after some observation.

— —WEARING: TBA

(Interacting w/ Ryutaro)
(Mentioned no one)
joshuadim joshuadim
 
RYUTARO HASHIMOTO
CS Link
SCENE:
Feelers in the Deep
LOCATION:
Just outside New Oasis, closer to the North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ryutaro, August
Feelers in the Deep
Jackie was first to spot August's graceful entrance, and shifted himself to a more defensive posture and glared at the newcomer. But Ryu did not share the same suspicions, as he turned his gaze over to the former Tiger as a slight smile curled at the edges of his lips. "You're certainly a hard man to reach." the Queen commented, "Not that I don't blame you. If I were you I'd keep my head down as much as I could too." He then turned to Jackie: "Take a stroll, we aren't here to fight."

Jackie blinked as his gaze darted between both his boss and to August, maintaining his suspicions towards the latter until finally relaxing. Wordlessly with a nod, he strolled off to the near distance and pulled out a cigarette to smoke. With his security chief out of earshot, Ryu turned his attention back to the matter at hand: "And I truly mean it. I'm not here for a fight. Rather, I have an offer for you. And so, I must ask..."

He took a breath of the night air and looked out towards the distance, seeing the dancing and shimmering lights of New Oasis crawl into the air. It's certainly been a while since he had been this far out, and it certainly offered another perspective on things - on just how important it was to be victorious.

"How much do you hate Markus Weiss?"


Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean
 
RYUTARO HASHIMOTO
CS Link
SCENE:
Call to Arms
LOCATION:
Ryutaro's Rooftop Garden, Imperial Gardens Condominiums, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Ryutaro, Camila
Call to Arms
"If only I could spend every hour on all my days like this." the Queen commented as he pruned another leaf off his bonsai, its form gently floating down before being plucked away from the mosses and stones below so as to not disturb the aesthetic cleanliness of its habitat. He leaned back from where he sat to get a larger view of his prized flora, before nodding to himself. "That should be enough for now..." he muttered as he stood up, and stretched his back. "Gardening is not just about having a plot or place, it's also a mindset. Cultivating to grow the best and strongest plants so they can exude their brilliance."

He then turned to Camila: "Even if it's only just strawberry pots, then you are a gardener." Ryu said before gulping down some water from his bottle nearby. "But, we know we're not here to talk about how best to trim hedges or proper fertilizer quantities. Rather, we have important business to discuss." The radio continued to hum a pleasant jam, though Ryu made sure to lower its volume so that it wasn't distracting for either of them. "Tell me about you and your network. I've heard quite a few things about those under your employ."


Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
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