Realistic or Modern New Oasis: Monochrome Dreams

[thebigfella]

NEW OASIS

MONOCHROME DREAMS

NOIR & ANIME INSPIRED

SUPER-POWERED

GANG WARS

Smith

"I can only hope now you're up to speed. It's time to look back, and look for more answers. The worst part about being stuck in the present, is that you're left trying to make sense of the past, and whoever is stuck in the future gets left with even more of a mess. Someone's gotta figure out the dope, whoever it may be."

• XXXXXX1

• 「 BEGIN 」
  THE LONGEST DREAM

  "New Oasis, August 9th, 1942. A new thread had me going back to revaluate this date again, and see it for what it truly is. Where all this began. I've been stuck on the ground, scrounging for information up until now, but I think I finally find a real lead. Everyone around is ready to accept what goes on today without a second thought. Not me. I want answers. I want to know what really happened within these gangs that lead to what's going on right now. In my book, that's all that matters. From here on out, things are going to get dangerous. I don't know if I'll make it, and that's why I'm writing this down. For whoever ends up reading this, can pick up where I left of, even if I leave them with more questions than answers when I'm all said and done.
  
  No matter how deep you dig, you're gonna find different stories. Conflicting answers, fibs and tall tales. The only way to try and understand it all is to let yourself live through it. Evaluate it as if they're your own eyes, hope that you don't lose your vision. There's blood in the water around here, just make sure it isn't yours.
  
  Everything comes in waves, you can only pray to God they'll bring you to shore.”

「 BEGIN 」

OST 2 — THE LONGEST DREAM

GUROKO ASSOCIATION

Guroko Arc 1 | Scene 1 - [Hostile Takeover]

The South Ward is in need of organization, that much has come clear from the association’s short time here. Numerous small-time gangs and crooks with no semblance of honor or control sulk through the nightlife, dancing and drinking, drugs and women, it's all so disorganized it's no wonder bodies are cropping up in every dumpster and every canal. If they’ll be staying here, then it’s time to show this hectic night life the new order.

The Quarter, a lavish nightclub. Big performers come with shows, excellent chefs provide dinners to the patrons. Dancing girls line the stage. In the back rooms however, drugs and prostitution run rampant, for those looking for a little bit more fun. The Alleycats, a small-time gang thinking they have a chance at being bigshots, have turned down the generous “protection fee” they were offered to keep up the charade, Guroko being so generous to let them keep playing crime so long as they kept the money flowing. But, since they can’t read the signs, it's time for them to face the music. A few families have been selected for this task. The approach can be loud, or quiet, but it should be organized. We’re not animals. No doubt those Alleycats are going to get desperate when they realize they’re backed into a corner, so prepare for anything.

CHRYSANTHEMUM HYDRAS

Hydras Arc 1 | Scene 1 - [Bite Back and Tear Through]

The peace and quiet of the East District, unbecoming for the Hydras. Being around friendly people, treated as neighbors, some have adjusted, while others have found it sickening. Many have been forced to keep their murderous tendencies in check, at least enough to keep the attention off them. The days have been dragging on, and the desire for action has been starting to gnaw at them. Complaining has been starting to become annoying, and infighting can only stay interesting for so long. Just before the Hydras can strike however, they’re attacked first. A fire erupts within the vicinity, heads are chopped clean off. Bodies of the dead Hydras are left in the streets, warm blood still pooling from them. A planned attack, a skirmish upon the outskirts, the assailants quickly retreating. A Hydra does not perish without at least delivering its own bite, the fallen comrades leave a pin that denotes the attackers.

Higa Family.

A chance has finally come from the Hydras to act, they care not for vengeance but for easing their hunger for violence, so they descend towards the South into enemy territory, right on the tails of the escaping yakuza, the Hydra’s heads biting at their heels. Out of the quietness of the East, the Hydras will reawaken their old instincts.

TREVISANI FAMIGLIA

Trevisani Arc 1 | Scene 1 - [Panic In Paradise]

The time has come for Trevisani to do what it does best, build connections, and deepen their network. Lavish parties and generous gifts have put them within the favor of many powerful people already. Money is the quickest way to make obedient dogs show their stomachs, but there’s some who need a little bit more convincing. Stubborn fat cats, nervous or holier than thou, an invitation brought them to the Lindt, a private estate where they will be hosting a banquet and ball, with some of their soon to be trusted confidants. Closed gates open up for limousines, letting politicians, celebrities, and capitalists strut up to the front gates. Trevisani welcomes them with open arms, and small-talk soon makes way for business inquiries. What the famiglia wants, it gets. A fact that’s made abundantly clear as the conversations drag on.

Before anything can be finalized however, a disruption causes everything to fall apart. A bomb goes off on the upper floor of the ballroom, shaking the earth, submerging everything in rubble. Their guests are filled with fear and anger. Is this the danger that awaits them allying with the mafia?

Trevisani isn’t one to let a deal go bad, especially from outside interference. They’ll assure their business partners that the problem is taken care of, even if it means presenting them the head of the perpetrator on a platter.

If their attacker wanted to send a message, it was received, and now they’ll follow it back to the sender.

NORTHERN STAR SYNDICATE

Northern Star Arc 1 | Scene 1 - [Union Born Under Starlight]

A certain capitalist had passed out enough cash to get the attention of the syndicate. He comes with an offer. His quickly expanding business has come under threat of unions, increasing demands of workers and worsening conditions has put things at a breaking point. Talks of a riot have begun to circulate, and he wants the Northern Star to “take care of it” by any means necessary. Upon success, a powerful connection like this can’t be scoffed at, and with some “insurance” to ensure he doesn’t back out of the deal, Northern Star members have one goal, stop the riot, or at least they should. The only thing Northern Star members are true to, is the guiding star. Backstab or follow through? Searching for the answers to that question will lead further into the unknown, and that this factory’s production isn’t just making plastic compounds.

IC CODES

Spoiler: Guroko Code

[border="0px; padding: 0; margin: 0 auto; filter: grayscale(1); --character: url(''); --charli03: url('https://i.imgur.com/YyMJcdj.png'); width: clamp(250px, 100%, 970px)"][border=0; border-radius: 8px; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0 auto; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(160px, 100%, 200px); height: 210px; background-image: var(--character); background-size: 170%; background-position: 70% top][/border][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 auto; background: rgba(12,13,13)][border=0; padding: 0; margin: 5px 0 5px 15px; font: 26px Rokkitt; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7][font=Newsreader][comment] //Character's name [/comment]CHARACTER'S NAME [comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: rgba(95,96,117,255); font-size: 20px; margin-left: 5px; box-sizing: border-box][comment] //CS Link [/comment][url=www.google.com][comment] [/comment][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; color: rgba(102, 217, 255, 0.7)][font=Rokkitt]CS Link[/font][/border][/url][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]SCENE: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of scene [/comment]Guroko Assoc. Arc x: Scene x [xxx][comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]LOCATION: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Location of scene [/comment]xx, xx Ward[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 0px 15px 0 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]PARTICIPANTS: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of characters involved [/comment]xx, xx, xx[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][comment] //Start of Post [/comment][border=1px solid #f2f2f2; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(0,0,0,0.5); padding: 12px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 450px; background: #146A49; margin-top: 20px][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: var(--charli03); background-size: 100% auto; background-position: center 50%; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-repeat: no-repeat][border=0; padding: 10px 15px; position: absolute; box-sizing: border-box; width: calc(100% + 1px); height: 450px; right: -1px; background: rgba(12,13,13,.95); font: normal 300 3.7vh Iceland; line-height: 100%; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader][comment] // Name of scene (again) [/comment]XX XX XXXX[comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 4px 0 0; background: #146A49; width: 50px; margin: 3px 0 7px 2px][/border][border="0; padding: 0 30px 0 3px; font-family: 'Blinker', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 140%; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: scroll; height: 350px; box-sizing: content-box; width: 100%"][font=Merriweather][comment] //Post text area [/comment][justify]Post content goes here [b][color=#146A49]"Dialogue format"[/color][/b][/justify][comment] //code end [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][/border]

Spoiler: Hydras Code

[border="0px; padding: 0; margin: 0 auto; filter: grayscale(1); --character: url(''); --charli03: url('https://i.imgur.com/9ImWGdj.png'); width: clamp(250px, 100%, 970px)"][border=0; border-radius: 8px; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0 auto; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(160px, 100%, 200px); height: 210px; background-image: var(--character); background-size: 170%; background-position: 70% top][/border][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 auto; background: rgba(12,13,13)][border=0; padding: 0; margin: 5px 0 5px 15px; font: 26px Rokkitt; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7][font=Newsreader][comment] //Character's name [/comment]CHARACTER'S NAME [comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: rgba(95,96,117,255); font-size: 20px; margin-left: 5px; box-sizing: border-box][comment] //CS Link [/comment][url=www.google.com][comment] [/comment][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; color: rgba(102, 217, 255, 0.7)][font=Rokkitt]CS Link[/font][/border][/url][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]SCENE: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of scene [/comment]Hydras Arc x: Scene x [xxx][comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]LOCATION: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Location of scene [/comment]xx, xx Ward[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 0px 15px 0 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]PARTICIPANTS: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of characters involved [/comment]xx, xx, xx[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][comment] //Start of Post [/comment][border=1px solid #f2f2f2; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(0,0,0,0.5); padding: 12px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 450px; background: #146A49; margin-top: 20px][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: var(--charli03); background-size: 100% auto; background-position: center 50%; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-repeat: no-repeat][border=0; padding: 10px 15px; position: absolute; box-sizing: border-box; width: calc(100% + 1px); height: 450px; right: -1px; background: rgba(12,13,13,.95); font: normal 300 3.7vh Iceland; line-height: 100%; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader][comment] // Name of scene (again) [/comment]XX XX XXXX[comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 4px 0 0; background: #146A49; width: 50px; margin: 3px 0 7px 2px][/border][border="0; padding: 0 30px 0 3px; font-family: 'Blinker', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 140%; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: scroll; height: 350px; box-sizing: content-box; width: 100%"][font=Merriweather][comment] //Post text area [/comment][justify]Post content goes here [b][color=#146A49]"Dialogue format"[/color][/b][/justify][comment] //code end [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][/border]

Spoiler: Trevisani Code

[border="0px; padding: 0; margin: 0 auto; filter: grayscale(1); --character: url(''); --charli03: url('https://i.imgur.com/7sOdDxM.png'); width: clamp(250px, 100%, 970px)"][border=0; border-radius: 8px; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0 auto; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(160px, 100%, 200px); height: 210px; background-image: var(--character); background-size: 170%; background-position: 70% top][/border][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 auto; background: rgba(12,13,13)][border=0; padding: 0; margin: 5px 0 5px 15px; font: 26px Rokkitt; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7][font=Newsreader][comment] //Character's name [/comment]CHARACTER'S NAME [comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: rgba(95,96,117,255); font-size: 20px; margin-left: 5px; box-sizing: border-box][comment] //CS Link [/comment][url=www.google.com][comment] [/comment][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; color: rgba(102, 217, 255, 0.7)][font=Rokkitt]CS Link[/font][/border][/url][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]SCENE: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of scene [/comment]Trevisani Arc x: Scene x [xxx][comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]LOCATION: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Location of scene [/comment]xx, xx Ward[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 0px 15px 0 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]PARTICIPANTS: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of characters involved [/comment]xx, xx, xx[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][comment] //Start of Post [/comment][border=1px solid #f2f2f2; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(0,0,0,0.5); padding: 12px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 450px; background: #146A49; margin-top: 20px][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: var(--charli03); background-size: 100% auto; background-position: center 50%; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-repeat: no-repeat][border=0; padding: 10px 15px; position: absolute; box-sizing: border-box; width: calc(100% + 1px); height: 450px; right: -1px; background: rgba(12,13,13,.95); font: normal 300 3.7vh Iceland; line-height: 100%; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader][comment] // Name of scene (again) [/comment]XX XX XXXX[comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 4px 0 0; background: #146A49; width: 50px; margin: 3px 0 7px 2px][/border][border="0; padding: 0 30px 0 3px; font-family: 'Blinker', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 140%; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: scroll; height: 350px; box-sizing: content-box; width: 100%"][font=Merriweather][comment] //Post text area [/comment][justify]Post content goes here [b][color=#146A49]"Dialogue format"[/color][/b][/justify][comment] //code end [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][/border]

Spoiler: Northern Star Code

[border="0px; padding: 0; margin: 0 auto; filter: grayscale(1); --character: url(''); --charli03: url('https://i.imgur.com/4xW0kbc.png'); width: clamp(250px, 100%, 970px)"][border=0; border-radius: 8px; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0 auto; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(160px, 100%, 200px); height: 210px; background-image: var(--character); background-size: 170%; background-position: 70% top][/border][border=1px solid black; border-radius: 8px; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 1 1 auto; background: rgba(12,13,13)][border=0; padding: 0; margin: 5px 0 5px 15px; font: 26px Rokkitt; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7][font=Newsreader][comment] //Character's name [/comment]CHARACTER'S NAME [comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: rgba(95,96,117,255); font-size: 20px; margin-left: 5px; box-sizing: border-box][comment] //CS Link [/comment][url=www.google.com][comment] [/comment][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; color: rgba(102, 217, 255, 0.7)][font=Rokkitt]CS Link[/font][/border][/url][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]SCENE: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of scene [/comment]Northern Star Arc x: Scene x [xxx][comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 5px 15px 0px 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]LOCATION: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Location of scene [/comment]xx, xx Ward[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][border=0; border-top: 1px solid rgba(100,100,100,0.40); padding: 6px 0 8px 2px; margin: 0px 15px 0 15px; font: 18px Jost; letter-spacing: 0.1em; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader]PARTICIPANTS: [/font][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: #146A49][font=Bebas Neue][comment] //Name of characters involved [/comment]xx, xx, xx[comment] [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][comment] //Start of Post [/comment][border=1px solid #f2f2f2; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(0,0,0,0.5); padding: 12px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 450px; background: #146A49; margin-top: 20px][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: var(--charli03); background-size: 100% auto; background-position: center 50%; position: relative; overflow: hidden; background-repeat: no-repeat][border=0; padding: 10px 15px; position: absolute; box-sizing: border-box; width: calc(100% + 1px); height: 450px; right: -1px; background: rgba(12,13,13,.95); font: normal 300 3.7vh Iceland; line-height: 100%; color: #E6E6E7 ][font=Newsreader][comment] // Name of scene (again) [/comment]XX XX XXXX[comment] [/comment][/font][border=0; padding: 4px 0 0; background: #146A49; width: 50px; margin: 3px 0 7px 2px][/border][border="0; padding: 0 30px 0 3px; font-family: 'Blinker', sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 140%; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: scroll; height: 350px; box-sizing: content-box; width: 100%"][font=Merriweather][comment] //Post text area [/comment][justify]Post content goes here [b][color=#146A49]"Dialogue format"[/color][/b][/justify][comment] //code end [/comment][/font][/border][/border][/border][/border][/border]

 

[thebigfella]

SMITH

SCENE:

The Longest Dream

The Longest Dream

I find myself once again drawn to the New Oasis streets. My leather shoes barely click against the moist bricks underneath my feet.

The thick coat I wear does wonders to protect my brain from the harsh rain but doesn’t do much for my mind. I find it soaked in thoughts, drowning.

I pull it up for air, only to keep myself in check of where my feet are taking me.

I walk along a dark street, with only a few street lights and my shadow to keep me company. The light and darkness cling to me like a charity girl who just can’t get a clue.

I stop just at the corner of the road, leaving the light and shadow behind to look across the street. A familiar sight greets me, the only comfort I’ll get on a night like this.

A small diner, its neon sign reading “Minnie’s,” acts as a beacon for ships like me, lost in this dark sea. The windows glow softly with the interior lighting; no car decorates the tiny parking lot.

I wait for a car to pass me; the gust flutters my jacket as I walk across.

The doorbell chimes as I walk inside, and immediately, I’m greeted by the smell of roasted beans; the scent of coffee is soaked deep into the floorboards and the ceiling that even at night, it reeks of the morning rush. The soft jazz of the jukebox does wonders to ease my thoughts as I dry my shoes off on the welcome mat.

The place is as empty as you’d expect. Not a single booth or stool was occupied by a keister. No one was interested in spending their New Year’s in a place like this, except for me.

“Here again, Smith? And at this hour?”

A woman walks out from the kitchen to greet our agent. Her hair is done up in a bumper bang, a bonnet keeping it all in place. Her deep-shaded lips, with smile lines, smirked slightly, and a mole was placed below her right eye.

Lucy James, L.J., everyone likes to call her. The dame in charge of this joint. It used to be her and her husband, Barry, but after he died overseas, she dragged the show along. Half the people come here just to enjoy the show of watching her sashay around, having a young catch like her being able to listen to them mumble and moan about work. Me? I’m just here for the food and the ambiance. L.J. is just as attractive a cook as a woman; whether I come here for breakfast or lunch and, on rare occasions, dinner, I feel like I’m back at Mom’s place.

“Not like I have anywhere else to go. Minnie’s the only place to be open at this hour, on New Year’s,” I responded. L.J.’s smirk turned into a slight chuckle, finding some humor in my words.

“Guess you’re right. Still, I would have thought someone like you would have had some plans for the New Year!”

I raised a hand to place it on top of my hat; not even for a second did the notion of anything else cross my thoughts as I looked at her.

“I could say the same for you. A doll like yourself should be doing more than just running this joint tonight.”

“Always with the flattery, Mr. Smith. It will get you everywhere. Now, what can I get you?”

Nothing can change a man’s mindset more quickly than a good meal. I know that well. The thought was appetizing, but I knew I wouldn’t find any satiation with some jacks and eggs. I needed something more filling. And I was about to get it.

“I’ll pass L.J. I got a meeting with someone important soon if you can believe it. I’ll borrow one of your booths if you don’t mind.”

“Meeting someone? On New Years? Guess you have some plans after all!”

She leaned onto the counter, giving me a sly smirk. I don’t bother responding; I just let her have her fun; it’s the least I can do as thanks.

I slide onto one of the vinyl couches, taking off my wet jacket and hanging it over the backrest as I sit down. A fan blows above me, and the light casts my face in shadow.

I pull a pack of crumbled cigs out of my pocket and pull out one of the few left, putting it into my lips while my other hand goes for my lighter. I place the pack on the table before cupping my hands in front of the end, protecting it from the wind as the flame clicks to life.

The smooth taste of tobacco hits my tongue, and the smoke comes from my lips as the embers burn to life. I flip the lighter shut and leave it on the table, hooking a pair of fingers around the cigarette in my mouth, removing it to breathe smog up into the air.

It’s at the same time that the door chimes open.

I lean over in my seat to see who entered, the cushions squeaking underneath me as I do.

A dark figure stands at the doorway. A trench coat hides their figure, and a wide-brimmed hat masks their face in darkness. Baggy pants and everyday leather boots don’t give much indication of their figure or choice of fashion. It was something to wear when you didn’t want to be found out.

L.J. looks at me with a look of unsure curiosity. I give her a nod as I sit back properly into my seat. Eventually, the mysterious figure makes their way over to me.

I don’t meet their gaze as they look down at me, surveying me as I take another pull of my cig. Soon, they sit down themselves, right on the opposite side of the booth.

We both sit in silence for a moment; they don’t ask questions, and they don’t introduce themselves.

“Smoke?” I offer, putting my hand on the pack I kept on the table.

They stay quiet.

I got the memo.

I snuff out my smoke in the nearby ashtray, letting it flop into the pile of discarded butts and cooled ash. I grab my jacket, pull out my notepad and a pen, and calmly place it on the table.

“Well… let’s cut to the chase.”

I flip open my notepad to an empty page, lines of notes going past until I finally reach a blank piece of paper.

I click the top of my pen, placing it at the top of the page, before looking back towards my new acquaintance.

“What do you know about August 9th, 1942?”

 

[thebigfella]

???

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

The Metal Angel kakemha , Igarashi BriiAngelic , Hikari RoninN7

Hostile Takeover

The explosion of trumpets erupted, cheeks puffed, and pressed down on the buttons. Drums banged and clamored, and cymbals chimed. The piano player’s fingers danced across the keys, moving in a blur as music filled the surroundings.

The curtain on center stage became illuminated by a spotlight, a voluptuous silhouette posed with her hand over her leaning head as cheers began to roar through the crowd. The curtain raised from her high heels to the shimmers of her sparkly covered dress and eventually rose past her hair tied up with jewelry and gemstones. She reached for the microphone, brought it towards her lipstick-coated lips, and began singing her siren song.

Cocktails were thrown back down gullets, champagne bottles popped open, their foam splattering across the ground. Dolled-up girls clung to the shoulders of dapper-looking men as they strutted across the floor. Dancing girls found their spots upon tables, sashaying along with the music as their free-flowing garments swung in the air, hugging their shapely bodies. Crowds of men circled around them, whistling and clapping as they enjoyed the show.

Some shy types hung to the edge of the room, hugging the wall or finding a space at the nearby bar where the tenders were trying to keep up with the drinks, shaking and stirring as the alcohol flowed free.


The Quarter was thriving with life, as usual. You could barely even see the tiled floor under the sea of bodies that filled every corner.

“C’mon baby, why don’t you come back with me for a little spin? I’ll make it real worth your while.”

A seedy-looking man with the eyes of a serpent, his aggressive body language used a hand to grab a poor woman’s chin, directing her to look at him in his slitted gaze.

“I-I don’t know,” She shuttered out, her eyes trying to break contact with him, but found herself drawn back to his gaze, “I really should be getting back to my partner…”

“Don’t worry about that,” the serpent assured her, brushing a strand of hair out her face as he leaned in, his fangs showing in a grin, “I’m sure he won’t mind if I just borrow you for a bit,” he spoke as if she was nothing more than a plaything.

He bent in closer, his lips growing closer to her neck.

“Hey, Silk. What did the boss tell you about doin’ shit like that in public?” The voice of an annoyed woman came with a sharp tug of his collar, pulling him back like he weighed nothing. Silk was left with his hands empty of his prey; a click of his teeth as the woman broke out of her trance, quickly scampering off.

“Olya, you bitch! I almost had her.” Silk dryly cursed, wringing himself out of the muscular woman’s grip, turning to face her with a glare as she promptly raised her arms up into the air, denouncing herself from any blame.

“Almost had her? Yeah, right,” she scoffed before stepping away, only giving Silk a brief glance before returning back to what she was doing, “The boss wants to see you in the back. Go see him before he pops a blood vessel,” she stated, before disappearing within the crowd.

Silk was left only moments to be bitter about losing a fresh catch before huffing, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shoved his way through the patrons. Eventually, he reached a back door, only stopped by a tall man in a tuxedo, who quickly stepped out of the way to let him through.

As the door closed behind him, the music and shouting became muffled, and the atmosphere changed from the club’s bright lights to the hallway’s soft lighting. The intricate tile was replaced by soft carpet, rooms lined the walls, numbers and signs hanging from them to state them as 'do not disturb' or 'vacant'.

A lone woman leaned against one of the walls, her revealing attire meant to entice from her waist to her bust; the cigarette she was smoking hung from her lip loosely as she stared at the ceiling, only looking down when Silk walked past.

“Howdy Silk. Back here for some fun?” The lady asked, her voice like velvet. Silk only stopped to give the woman a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“You know the boss doesn’t like it when you smoke.”

“What, you gonna tattle on me?”

“...Hmph.”

With that, Silk continued, leaving the woman to enjoy her tobacco. As he turned, he approached a door at the end of the hall, pushing it open.

“What did you need from--”

Silk’s eyes immediately went still as his body froze in place upon what he saw entering the room.

“Phewww. You ladies know how to make a MAN feel like a KING…”

A portly man lay in the bed, two women lying on each of his sides as they rested upon a king-sized bed, a cover placed over them as they winded down from their activities.

Silk was left watching in silence, a deadpan expression on his face as he cleared his throat, “Um…boss…I was told you wanted something for me…?” He meekly spoke, the awkward situation leaving him to just stand there.

“Oh, there ya are!” The boss immediately straightened up, the cover sliding down his hairy chest as he did, “I ain’t even noticed you come in. Sorry ’bout that,” he genuinely apologized before looking towards both of the women keeping him company.

“You two, it’s time for some business talk. Go ahead and scram,” he ordered, leaving them to slide out from under the covers and grab whatever they could to cover themselves before leaving the room from the side door, leaving Silk and the boss alone.


Wrapping the cover around his waist like a toga, the large man stood up, “I got something important I need you to do,” he stated, scratching his back as he reached over to a nearby nightstand, picking up an open letter. He tossed it wordlessly towards Silk, who caught it between two fingers before pulling out the paper that resided within.

He only scanned it briefly before his fingers clenched at the paper, gaze narrowing.

“Guroko,” he spoke bitterly before glowering at the boss.

“Let the boys know to be extra alert tonight.”

“... Shit’s gonna get dicey.”

---

Cars came to a stop on the street. Doors opened, and black suits came out. The pins on their chest gleamed underneath the moonlight.

Shadows hung on the ceilings, looming over like vultures.

The sign for The Quarter hung above the door, and the sounds of the party within its walls leaked to the outside.

Their polished shoes clicked against the pavement, and bats and pipes hung over some shoulders, prepared to smash and pilfer.

But no one has moved yet. The obedient dogs stayed put, with hardened gazes trained on the walls and windows.

They waited for orders. What was the move? The path forward could be forged in blood or be written in ink. Guroko wasn’t avarice to either.

The younger members seemed antsy to get things started, leaning against their cars and tapping their feet.

The older ones, however, calmly smoked their cigarettes, waiting patiently. To them, this was nothing more than a formality. Normal business.

The first move would decide how they would act.

 

[thebigfella]

???

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Vernon Roda the Red , Alessia angel doe , Arthur SoupMan0512

Panic in Paradise

Chatter came above the ambient jazz music in the background. Chandeliers glistened overhead, basking everything in light. Statues lined the walls, carved from marble, depicting busts of caricatures from times long since the past, gods and goddesses of myth, heroes beating monsters of legend.

An ice sculpture sat in the middle of the room, its shape of the Trevisani crest, every detail carved out with ridges and gouges. Swans had their wings splayed at each crest, punctuating its regalness and grace.

Tables were strewn throughout the ballroom. Fancy suits and lavish dresses abound among the crowd of men and women. Expensive jewels were embellished in golden rings and hung from ears, fur shawls covered shoulders, brooches tied to necks.

High-end clientele was an understatement. Wealth was on display, and it showed itself without any modesty. Minimalist labels on wine bottles where quality spoke over display sat upon tables, glasses topped with the most expensive drinks money could buy.

The rim of a glass left the lips of a man with a mustache, his ring-adorned hands swirling and aerating the cup’s contents as he allowed the taste to ruminate upon his tongue.

“Hm. It’s not as good as it is back at home. A shame,” he lamented, putting the glass down, crossing his arms in a slight frown, “I suppose that’s to be expected, considering it had to come all the way across the sea.”

“You’re one of the few who cares about the taste; most people only care about the price on the label,” spoke up another one of the finely dressed men at the table, his youthful appearance and clean-shaven look showing their difference in years, “So long as something is expensive, that’s all that matters. “Greed is good.” That’s what they always say, right?” the younger patron stated, taking his time to look over towards the group of tables that sat separated from the rest of the room.

While they sat within the same space, their presence was a world apart. The clothes they wore only came from the most famous and selected brands across the globe, fabrics woven from the silk of endangered species, gems that had no equal size and luster. Some more eccentric types had their exotic pets at their side, and others were more satisfied with personal servants who weren’t much better than slaves. No one said anything to them, and even as stares were fixated in their direction, they didn’t bother looking back as if a wall separated them from the outside world. Even within their own crime family, they were above the concept of equals.

This was the power of true wealth and the influence of none other than those who held the last name Trevisani. The untouchable monarchs of organized crime and their pure blood prove their royalty.


The only people with any right to join them were their guests of honor. Aligning the tables were notable figures. Politicians, actors, singers, players, fashion designers, capitalists, the list continued on and on. The influence upon the influential couldn’t be understated; Trevisani knew that well. Having the hearts of the people could make or break an organization; public image correlates with business; it makes things cheaper and less expensive, and the fewer hoops you have to hop through.

So, Trevisani had graciously offered its hand towards these few, letting them be at the forefront of the next era of New Oasis. The one where Trevisani reigns supreme.

Out of respect and for image purposes alone, they had decided to keep their protection to a minimum. The black suits that would usually surround them, the Guardians that would keep them safe with their lives instead hung back, keeping their distance but still staying incredibly vigilant.

Double doors opened. Wheels on carts spun and turned. Aromas filled the air, wafting through the ballroom. Men and women in tuxedos, waiters, and servers spilled in, carrying plates underneath cloches towards silk-covered tables, finely woven with intricate patterns lining their edges.

The plates were placed in front of the patrons before being lifted as steam wafted up through the air, clearing to reveal the dishes. Prime cuts of steak adorned with rich sauces. Shrimp towered high, garnished with herbs, and basted with garlic and lemon. Tomahawk lamb chops intertwined, their medium rare centers leaking with juices on top of lettuce beds, as bearnaise dripped down the sides. Such lavish meals were the only thing fit for the exquisite taste buds of the Trevisani.

The cart carrying the most enormous plate eventually approached the collection of the central family, stopping in front of one of the tables. With a pair of four waiters, they could lift its mass off the cart and place it gently onto the table, lifting off its cover. A giant lobster with claws as big as one’s head rested upon the plate, its tail split open to let its meat burst forth.

“About time,” an older man blathered, looking towards the servers with a flower as he shifted his position within his cushioned chair, “We pay you so much, and you still can’t even put food out on time? Peh. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

With hurried apologies, the waiters swiftly took the cart and retreated from the table, leaving them to enjoy their meal. Their giant lobster buffet compared to everyone else’s intricate plates, clearly they had something to prove.

“Father, shall we dig in?” A woman at the table asked, her hands unclasping to grab at her knife and fork. The older man nodded, beckoning to the giant crustacean, “Don’t wait on my account.”

Immediately, the ferocious family began chowing down, scarfing down their gullets without caring about appearances. There was only one who kept himself away from the offerings, his arms crossed as he leaned back into his seat.

Only stopping momentarily from her chewing, cheeks filled like a chipmunk, did one of the older women at the table look at him, “What’s wrong, Marcello? Not hungry?”

Marcello opened his eyes, only giving his family member the faintest look before closing his eyes again, “Sorry, I’m not interested in joining you. I’m trying out a vegetarian diet,” he stated plainly.

He only received a confused stare before she returned to unfittingly pigging out.

Marcello placed a hand on his chin, sighing.

“What a boorish family I’m part of.”


The thought was shared by many other parts of the Trevisani, who looked at them with a detestable glare. Rumors and gossip ripe with venom were spoken passively and aggressively.

Such was the way of Trevisani.

 

[thebigfella]

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji simj26 , Mitsuki Eteri , Carmen soIstice , Kygo Shadow , Adol Stern LuLuLu

Bite Back and Tear Through

The night had come, and the day had gone. The East had experienced another day of peace. Cars pulled into driveways, and families clicked the lights on as their silhouettes moved before their open windows.

Crickets chirped, and owls let out their cries. Everything had become still. It was serene.

Disgustingly so.

Day in and day out was monotonous; shadows clung to the alleys and roofs and watched the civilians go about their daily routine. They watched as people went to work and sent their kids to school. How the people within the East lived their lives oblivious to the demons that rest outside their doors.

The inhabitants of the East District differed from anything the Hydras had ever dealt with. They greeted them kindly, made small talk, gave out small gifts, and treated them like part of the neighborhood. Even past the language barriers, they tried to form a connection; that was the type of people they were.

It annoyed many Hydras; their emotions were meant to be hidden underneath blood and viscera, layers of sin that submerged their deepest feelings. In any other situation, they would have met such generosity with a curt reply of a knife in the gut, but instead, they found themselves having to grin and bear it.

The Conquest Game prevented them from genuinely cutting loose. The rules in place deterred them from paving the streets in red. They could have ignored the rules; they should have acted like they never existed.

But, the palpable fear of punishment that would await them all if they were disqualified for their own ineptitude, that thought kept many of them up at night.

So, they had dulled their instincts and stopped their thirst for bloodshed. Some are more successful than others. The occasional body would have to be disposed of, families disrupted, and missing posters hung on telephone poles, but they should be happy that was the least of their worries.

The Hydras had taken their dominion over the East District, always with the thought that they were disruptors to peace within their own place of temporary residence. The concept of being a protector would have made many of the Hydra’s physically ill. It wasn’t something to be considered.


The ground tremored. Leaves shook loose from the branches of trees, the birds resting inside them disturbed, flying away with cries across the night sky. The people were roused, doors opened along with windows to peer outside, trying to source the commotion.

They looked around in confusion until their eyes drifted towards the ground. It pulsed as if it was alive, streets and sidewalks bending and breathing.

And then, a glow of light flashed from below.

Like an explosion, the ground split open from the seams, trees topped over as their roots were torn, and cars were swallowed into fiery sinkholes of pyre as embers charred their paint. Flames of hellfire rose into the sky like geysers, illuminating the area like beacons in the sky, allowing everyone from across the East to see.

Screams echoed throughout the streets; parents grabbed their children and fled from their houses before the flames swallowed them whole, embers catching upon roofs and dancing across blocks as the swirling inferno reflected across windows. The road collapsed underneath their fleeing feet, making them stumble and look back toward the roaring blaze.

Silhouettes parted through, making their way through the gates of fire, the glow of heat basking their bodies as they marched through the streets. What seemed to be five manifested into ten, then split itself to be twenty. They strode through with purpose, ash, and cinders floating across their vision as the world changed underneath their feet. Suits and jackets they wore and golden lapels that glistened upon their chest showed their affiliation clearly. This wasn’t a sneak attack or anything as such; this was a declaration of war.

As smoke filled the air, more fell victim to the fire. The sleeping beast began to stir. It breathed a poisonous breath, venom dripped from its jaws. Its claws sharpened, its scales hardened.

It memorized the scent of its prey.

Shadows began to pour into the streets, few and far between, to dictate their lack of uniformity. Their eyes glowed within the darkness as they approached from the shade of night, hungering, slavering, the taste for violence they had been craving finally revealing itself on a platter.

As the world below them continued tearing itself apart, flames spreading further throughout the ward’s border, more of the dire beasts would be roused from their slumber. This was a statement, not a suicide mission; their assailants knew that. They stared at the Hydra, who was first to respond, as everything went silent besides the burning of wood.

“Fuck ’em up.” It was the only order the leader of the pack gave.

Immediately, both forces sprung towards each other, their cries of battle erupting along with another burst of fire from the ground.

The fire was spreading faster and faster, and the Earth’s crust continued tearing apart. The destruction didn’t spare anything, not even the steps of God’s holy land, as the fire reached the steps of a nearby church.


The damage was growing immense, and the rules of the Conquest began to hang around everyone’s necks. If something wasn’t done, there would be consequences.

Once again, the smell of iron emanated around the Hydra’s home.

 

[thebigfella]

???

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Jacques Haze- , Yelizaveta The One Eyed Bandit , Sanya AnemoVictorious

Union Born Under Starlight

Smog floats through the air, smokestacks plume pollution into the streets. It bathes the area in a foggy hue, where only the massive industry firms can be made out from the haze.

The howl of trains echoes throughout the ward, their whistle rattles warehouse windows, and their chugging along the tracks shakes the ground. Cargo wagons marked with brand names pull out exports to be shared with the rest of Amestria.

Brick walls painted with advertisements and billboards sit at the edges of giant buildings. Bodies spill out from monotonous nearby work housing to walk into factories in the dozens. The jumpsuits and collared button-ups that act as their attire make all the workers seem homogeneous. Hats cover their heads and hide their faces, removing their person’s distinction. These workers, more bodies than people, prepared themselves for another day of labor.

Some walked to their jobs, only a little better than hollow husks. Their tired muscles weighed them down, burns decorated their hands, and scars layered their bodies. A depressive atmosphere invited them through the gates towards their workplace. Others were much more fortunate; they spoke with their colleagues with smiles, and their steps held pep as they strolled into the factory, brimming for another day of proper labor.

This was the difference between the people of the North Ward. The land of workers, the home of innovation. Capitalists had transformed the North into their image of a production paradise, with warehouses and offices lining every street. Things such as restaurants and bars were disregarded, and in their stead were shops that sold medicine and replacement work outfits at corners. Productivity was king in the North, and whoever was the most productive found themselves at the industry’s height. They earned the most power and the most connections with corporations and governments all over the world who want their products. Staying on top of new technological trends and getting the most out of science and labor is a constant battle.

Workers were replaceable; that’s the idea that many capitalists had. But a few figures fancied themselves as more humanitarian. They would fill their break rooms with plant life, offer company get-togethers and parties, whatever they could do to make their workers feel appreciated. This mindset earned a scoff from many of their contemporaries, dismissing the idea entirely, saying it breeds nothing like laziness.

The difference between your boss and your view on life. This was as true as it was for the workers as it was for the gang who had found themselves a place of residence among them.

The Northern Star had one boss, and whatever he said goes. As far as they knew, he wasn’t a capitalist, but he was one to capitalize. New Oasis was to be their capital; the One Star guided them here.

They found their place as dealers: pain medication that made pains and aches disappear and leave you feeling better in minutes, stimulants that made you able to carry 2x the weight you were in the past, and pills that could drape everything with color. Amongst the many workers who struggle to survive another day, the North Star offered ways to make it to another day.

They made allies with the workers, though to them, the workers were nothing more than customers. However, to the capitalists having their employees come sauced on whatever cocktail of drugs had given to them, the Northern Star had become an enemy. Guards were hired to watch out for them, and rules were put in place against the use of drugs and medications, stifling the people and the business.

So, when one of these entrepreneurs wanted to meet them personally, suspicion wasn’t enough to describe it. It took many gifts and sweet talking to properly earn an audience with some of the more notable veteran members, and that’s when an offer was made.

“I need you to take care of a union quietly, without causing a fuss.”

The fish spoke from within its glass dome, its hands clasped over its desk as it looked toward whoever was on the other end.

It was a lucrative deal. The Northern Star had done its business by joining the workers to give them what they needed; now, they were offered a chance to switch sides and work with a capitalist? Many denounced the idea, but the offer wasn’t something to be ignored; it wasn’t money, it was a favor. A favor from someone could mean more than any stack of cash could, that was for sure.

Still, many turned the offer down; the star tattooed upon them guided them against union-busting their main customers.

You are here because your star guided you in a different direction.

The constantly shifting cosmos comes in many shapes.

You walk amongst the factory workers, entering your first day on the job. You’ve been given a fake name, a tag placed across your chest. Your position is personally chosen by you to best fit your role.

Now, you only have one job: find the source of the union and crush it. But where to start?

Vats of molten metal pulled across chains overhead, each massive link clicking and shaking into place as they moved across the conveyor. With a lever pull, the vats tipped over, spilling the contents into burning hot slag as it splattered and sprayed bright droplets everywhere.

Workers keep their distance, covering their eyes from the glare, before quickly rushing over while the metal is still hot to scoop it up off the floor with a shovel, placing it in a pile of other metal waste, where it is brought down a conveyor and tossed back into the fire.

The hot temperature makes clothes stick to the skin, the heat inescapable from any part of the closed walls. Sweat pours down the back of necks, leaving many struggling to breathe through the hot air as they carry wheelbarrows full of tools and materials across the workshop floor.

A feeling of discontent is in the worker’s eyes; everywhere you look, they all do their job with tight grips upon their tools, an air of frustration and anger in their actions from the harshness of how they move. A boiling point has been reached, and it’s the Northern Stars’ job to cool it down.

Whatever their next step may be, they should choose carefully. Eyes are everywhere, and someone suspected of being a union buster won’t get anywhere.

They could ask the workers directly or get information from a man in charge.

By sneaking around, they might be able to find what they want. Some workers congregate within the corner of the room, keeping themselves to a whisper. What are they up to?

 

[RoninN7]

HIKARI KATAYAMA

CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

The Metal Angel kakemha , Hari BriiAngelic , Hikari RoninN7

Hostile Takeover

The night air was cool and still. Hikari knew this feeling. It was the feeling before something bad happened. A few families within the Guroko Association had been contacted to conduct a raid on The Quarter. Word was The Alleycats hadn't been playing ball with the new head honchos and were about to be taught a lesson. Hikari had been called into a quick meeting with one of her Captains who told her that the family needed to get eyes on the raid and see if there was anything to gain from this.

"I'm guessing you want me on the scene then...?" Hikari's voice had an air of snark to it. She knew she was the best for such a job and sometimes her family hated her arrogance because of it. Still, they needed her to conduct reconnaissance.

"Correct. Get in and learn as much as you can. If there's something to be gained, go for it. If not, just collect any useful information. And if things get dangerous..."

"I'll be out in a jiffy! I'll get going then." Hikari seemed a little bored with it all, unsure of what her family could possibly want from all of this but she was never one to question orders. She gave her Captain a lazy salute before sinking into the shadow by the door, vanishing into thin air.

The young woman emerged outside behind a street light, pulling out her cigarette holder and sliding one of her cigarettes in. She lit the small cig and took a long drag, blowing smoke into the air. Hikari sighed as she looked up into the night sky. The moonlight shone down, washing over the dark buildings and smoke-filled sky. Were it not for her mission, Hikari would've loved to get herself to a nearby rooftop and just watch the sky for a few hours. Unfortunately, duty called and Hikari took another drag before vanishing once more, leaving behind a puff of smoke that lingered for a few moments before being blown away by the breeze.

She reemerged some distance away, slinking from shadow to shadow until she finally found herself just half a block away from The Quarter. The cig in her holder was almost out, so she took said holder out of her mouth for a second and inspected the area. Placing her hand on the wall, the darkness all around her began resonating with noise and movement. Taking a deep breath, Hikari closed her eyes and focused in on the nightclub. She detected multiple people who were most likely the Guroko sent to conduct this raid. Some seemed anxious while others were calm, clearly showing who among them held more experience. Taking one last drag of her cigarette, Hikari let it fall to the ground out of her holder and vanished into the shadows once more.

Her head emerged behind the group of Guroko waiting outside of the club before she sank back into the shadows and slid out behind the door to the club. Hikari softly adjusted her hair and put a smile on her face, stepping into the crowd like any other partygoer would, clinging to the walls and heightening her shadow senses to hear of anything of interest that might be going on nearby.

 

[simj26]

PADRE

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 (Bite Back and Tear Through)

LOCATION:

Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Mitsuki, Eiji

Bite Back and Tear Through

The last of the flock had gone home. The volunteers wished him a good night and had departed. Darkness had seeped into the canvas of the sky. The priest, however, found no reprieve in the coming dark, for in the departure of his lambs, came a wolf. A friendly one, and most wolves in New Oasis rarely hunted any but their own. As the Man Who Houses Demons was want to do, he invited him in, bringing him to his office, where they could discuss their private matters in, well, private.

The priest had a preference for Wakoku tea leaves, which was an oddity for someone who had spent much of his life in Xia. Not many questioned it. After all, The Demon had been from the lands of Wakoku. Its preferences may have rubbed off on him. It had taught him the art of a proper tea ceremony, so why not its choices in proper drinks? It was with these leaves that he had prepared a hot drink for both himself and his guest. He had forgone the ceremony, but the fragrant tea was still prepared with meticulous care, and its serving was just as polite and demure, placed in front of Mitsuki Shoji with gentleness.

He drew his chair to himself and sat down. “So, what brings you to my doors this night, Mitsu–”

He had barelt even started before the ground beneath him shuddered and shook. He turned his head curiously. He sniffed the air, and a frown creased his brow. The cries of the helpless began to seep through the windows and the doors. Then came the smell of smoke.

“It seems the Lord has issued yet another challenge for us.” He moved calmly towards the side of the room. He pulled open a drawer and picked out a claw hammer. Those who have seen the man of cloth work knew that the brown upon its steel head was not the rust of old age. It was tool, that much was sure, and Eiji Nakamura utilised it as one for more than simply hanging portraits and plaques on his wall. He moved, slowly, with purpose, out of his office, and towards the doors of his church.

He flung the double doors open, and the rush of hot air sent his habit billowing behind him.

Fire and flames crept upon his steps, spreading onto the grounds that the gardener had so carefully tended to every week. A wasted effort in the chaos that had erupted on this land.

He looked down upon the flames, and in the flickering light and the dying dusk, it almost seemed as if he pitied it, as it was the pitiful act of demons seeking to enter his sanctuary. Perhaps it was the same trick of the light, but the flames seemed to retreat from his withering gaze. He stepped forth, moving unfalteringly towards the inferno, and reached towards it. And lo, in the face of the ever-consuming flames, his lips moved as if he were speaking to it.

If he had words, hus voice was drowned out by the cacophony of the voices all around him, of the cries of the people who desperately sought shelter from the raging destruction. It was no longer an illusion - the flames began to draw towards him as he raised his hand, its tongues raising and brushing against his palm, like a charmed snake. His eyes opened, the gleam of golden yellow from the flames reflected back as he gazed into them.

He raised his lips to it, and he breathed.

The flames drew back violently from him, like they were expelled for encroaching upon the house of the Lord. A path opened up before him, leading from the doors of the church to the gates. The flames were fortunate enough to be able to consume his greenery, but greenery was easily replaced and grown again. It would cost reparations, but the human life was priceless.

“As Noah carved a path for his people upon the sea, I, too, shall do so with this sea of flames,” he murmured as he marched to the open gates. He raised his hammer, as like a beacon, and his voice rang from the gates, drawing the eyes of both friend and foe. “Come, all ye who seek shelter! The doors of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour are open for thee!”

He lowered his hammer, directing it at the beasts that now prowled his streets. “If you seek repentance, then you are as welcome under His roof. Otherwise, you meet your end here.”

 

[Eteri]

MITSUKI SHOJI

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji, Mitsuki (Carmen, Kygo, Adol)

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

God is within her, she will not fall

- Psalm 46:5​

The gates of heaven. Or its nearest equivalent on this fragile earth.

It was a daunting task to stand in front of them. A mixture of twisted courage and incomprehensible dread that ran through his body. The same feeling that a prisoner facing the gallows or a gladiator about to fight the lion would share with him. That moment of knowing one's impending doom was about to arrive. When one's sins would be stripped off and judged, peeled away layer by layer as the skin crumbled to reveal the mortal flesh beneath.

A reverie so absurd that it could be laughable again. Repentance was not what he had come here for, nor would it ever be. No god had ever guided his path, no prayers had ever been answered. The present was a road of his own making, paved with sacrifices that even faith could only dream of ever restoring. Religion held no sway over him, and it was ironic that he teamed up with one that embodied the complete opposite.

As he crossed the sacred threshold, Mitsuki discarded all notions of religious guilt. Like he had on all the previous nights before. Dutifully, following the footsteps of the Father, whose pseudonym rang true once again.

Standing in the privacy of an office that was by now well known to him, he waited attentively for the other man to finish his usual welcome routine. His eyes scanned the room, aware that every item on display had been placed there with the knowledge that others would see it. A carefully curated image. Something to be determined in the future if it contained an ounce of truth

Despite the wait, there was no impatience in his manner. On the contrary, there was something akin to excitement in his smile. After all, if it were not for their private arrangement that made the pianist return from time to time, the steamed leaves would be more than enough reason to continue visiting this humble establishment. The flavour was deep, profound and soothing in a way that no words could describe. There was a sense of meticulousness behind each serving that reminded Mitsuki of his own attentiveness. When he sat down for hours to clean his instruments until they looked like new again. He could appreciate something forged from the same mould even if it was another craft.

"Your hospitality knows no bounds," he complimented Eiji in a lulling tone as the other placed the finished beverage in front of him. He sat down, moments after his host.

Just as Mitsuki reached for the cup, the same sense of curiosity and foreboding overcame him as it had his friend, and his movements stilled in the act. The warm liquid shook in its container, coming dangerously close to the rim as the ground continued to shake. Soon the smell of ashes began to permeate the air, ruining the purity and careful preparation of the tea. Eiji's words broke the silence, eliciting a small chuckle out of Mitsuki. "And they said we would strike first."

With an eerie calmness, he watched as the priest moved around his own place. Already preparing himself for a night that potentially would stretch on until the next sunrise. By now, the screams permeated every fibre of the room and sooner than later, he saw Father Nakamura take off, equipped with a tool to curb the troublemakers.

For a moment, Mitsuki stayed where he was. His amber eyes reflected the flicker of the distant inferno, enjoying the symphony of human voices. He hummed back, his answer to their pleas, and raised the steaming cup like a cheers to the damned. He drank it in one gulp.

It burned.

He rose, placing the empty mug back on the tray where it belonged, before following his fellow Hydra. His dark coat flattered as he moved, mimicking the movement of the flames as they chased the soles of the citizens unfortunate enough to be caught in the crosshairs. The fire outside painted the interior of the church through the windows in a chilling red that could not be called anything but beautiful.

As he strode through the double doors, sparks glittered in the air, accompanied by the smell of burning grass. Mitsuki came to a halt mere steps behind Eiji. Safely out of reach if he decided to swing his tool like a judge passing sentence. He arrived just in time to hear the end of his speech, proclaiming both doom and salvation.

It was a sight to behold, the passion in his voice drowning out the doubts and fears of the innocent as he struck fear into the hearts of his foes. To see Eiji like this, the flames bowing to his command, one could only start to begin to believe the rumours of the past massacre. It was fascinating, inspiring in a way. Such a pity that he could not capture this moment in a painting.

But it made one wonder. What would it take to break that pride?

Mitsuki stepped forward, just close enough to whisper in his ear, drowning out the misery around them. "You might want to take these. Just in case." He held out his hand, palm flat. Two inconspicuous earplugs laid there, one pair of many. More than enough to lessen the effect if it came to that. Tonight, no music was destined for his ears.

 

[angel doe]

Alessia M. Trevisani

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

vernon, alessia, arthur

Panic in Paradise

The party was in full swing and Alessia still hadn't stepped foot in the ballroom, far too busy putting the final touches on her makeup. Humming, she stood in front of the mirror and did a little twirl, her flowing silk dress shimmering as it caught the light.

"Perfect, as always~"

Alessia then checked her hair, making sure it was as pristine as the rest, adjusting the silver and gold flowers weaved into it before smiling at her reflection and finally walking to the ballroom. Her heels clicked on the floor, the only sound that could be heard in the empty halls, but it was quickly drowned out the closer she got to the party. She took a moment to pause once outside the doors, taking a deep breath and putting on the perfect mask.

"I wonder how many suck-ups there will be this time." Alessia sighed, grabbing the handles and swinging the massive doors open. She glided gracefully into the room, her bright eyes scanning as she smiled and waved at those who tried to get her attention which, unfortunately, was most of them.

Internally, she was laughing at each of them, judging them. They were all so pathetic in their attempts to garner her attention, some being more obvious about it, others simply trying to show something off in hopes it might catch her eye. Alessia's face never once betrayed what she was truly thinking, offering nothing but polite smiles. She didn't approach any of them yet, though. Instead, she stopped at one of the tables that had glasses of wine sitting atop it.

Alessia picked up a glass and took a small sip, stifling a sigh. This was going to be exhausting, but she had a job to do- As Alessia, the world-renowned actress, violinist, and pianist, and as a Trevisani. She was there as a family formality, sure, but this was the perfect time to form connections and that wasn't something she could just pass up. She would be a fool if she did not take advantage of this opportunity.

Now all Alessia had to do was pick her first victim, eyes narrowing slightly as she searched for someone that looked worth talking to.

Minutes passed and the food was served, but she couldn't find a single person that piqued her interest. Perhaps she was being too picky, she always had a very specific taste when it came to making connections and had a bad habit of ignoring important people if they didn't meet her standards. Her mother scolded her about this often, but she would roll her eyes and shrug. Then she would go to her grandfather and he would say more or less the same thing; and if Pops said it, Alessia would obey without question. It drove her mother crazy.

Scanning the room again, but this time trying to ignore her personal opinions, her gaze landed on the table nearby with the lobster buffet. Alessia took another sip of wine to keep herself from laughing out loud. It was painfully obvious they had something to prove and the way they dug into their food... Frankly, it was embarrassing.

It wasn't until her gaze landed on Marcello that she realized they were Trevisani's, and suddenly she felt embarrassed. Did his family have no manners? Alessia did well to hide most of her true feelings, but the way her eyebrow twitched started to betray some of them.

Alessia tried to look away and find something else to focus on, but it was like watching a trainwreck. She couldn't help but stare and the longer she did, the more her smile faltered.

"Do they have no decorum..."

 

[SoupMan0512]

ARTHUR BURNWOOD

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1 Scene [PANIC IN PARADISE]

LOCATION:

BALLROOM, WEST Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Vernon, Alessia, Arthur

PANIC IN PARADISE

Flickering, the tiny flame of a silver-plated zippo lighter came to life. It made contact with the tip of a bent cigarette, igniting the tobacco inside. Smoke wafted in the air, but the trail never lasted.

“Bidness gonna be poppin’ off ‘cuz of youse,” a gravelly masculine voice said. His eccentric accent was reminiscent of a typical Amestrian northerner, and he spoke with a long drawl that affected his speech. At first glance, the voice had no owner. Silhouettes, distinguishable outlines of human beings of different shapes and sizes, roamed the rooftop of a tall building, seemingly around fifty stories high from ground level. An intense gust of wind was present, whistling fiercely in the air. There was a gradual disperse of the smog-like clouds in the midnight skies, which made way for the presence of the moon that hung above the many skyscrapers of the West Ward in New Oasis.

Moonlight finally befell the metropolis, partially unveiling the identities of the human silhouettes that were on the rooftop.

They were all informally-dressed men—messy collars, untucked shirts, and rolled-up sleeves—who possessed devious looks on their faces, bearing no knowledge in the meaning of subtlety. Some would have gnarly scars with unexciting origins, and others would have a mean scowl that gave small children nightmares. These men lugged black suitcases that held unmarked, clean bills of money, bursting at the seams.

“It was hard smugglin’ that in ‘ere,” said a woolly-haired man, who was probably going through his forties. He wore a plain chef uniform with apparent stains on the cloth; the toque on his head was latched sideways. Although he exhibited a calm demeanor, the aging wrinkles on his forehead did not disappear. Fumes escaped from the corners of his chapped lips, smoking a cigarette. His exhausted, half-lidded eyes were intently observing the movements of a decrepit, senile geezer, whose appearance was even more unfortunate.

“Mmm, yes, quite! I cannot imagine how troublesome it might have been,” the old geezer sympathized. Unlike the woolly-haired man, his dome was barren with follicles and replaced with protruding veins on the side of his head. His pathetic, wispy beard fluttered in the wind, displaying an almost toothless grin. His posture was weak, leaning forward in an arch, possibly a result from his age. He held a small bottle in his hand, manually ascending it in the air and studying it closely with an eyeglass magnifier. It contained a mysterious dark liquid, sloshing from side to side within the glass. “I just can’t believe it costs hundreds to have something like this in my hand.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt end.

Some hapless-looking schmuck burst out of the rooftop entrance door; the loud, sharp noise of the door snapping open would cause everyone to turn their heads over and stop whatever they were doing. Sweat poured down from his face, like a rapid waterfall. He was hunched over, grasped on his knees, and breathed heavily through his mouth.

“... B-BOSS… THE MONEY—... THE JACK’S FAKE! …”

Pistols were immediately whipped out from every goon in the vicinity, with their barrels aimed directly at the harmless, worn-out old geezer. They didn’t hesitate, ready to inject lead in the elderly. He was a sitting duck, practically surrounded by them. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, his fragile lips formed a large comical grin. His foot slid on the gravel floor, starting to make his very first move.

“CLIP THE BASTARD!” Enraged, the woolly-haired man shouted maniacally.

Bullets started flying, ejected from every pistol that was brandished from each grunt. When viewed from a distance, there was one hell of a grandiose firework show. Finding himself in quite a predicament, the old geezer abandoned his “harmless elderly” shtick and ran away like his pants caught on fire. His weakened posture was discarded, replaced with a perfect one. Surprisingly, his feet were too quick for the gunfire to affect him at all, with the metal projectiles whizzing over his head. He somersaulted over the ledge of the rooftop, and…

… the night skies carried him downward to his imminent doom.

He couldn’t hear anything; the flurries of high altitude winds howled in his eardrums, turning him temporarily deaf to his surroundings. His body was falling in the direction of the streets—illuminated in a comforting light—from below, overrun with car traffic. Suddenly, the mound in his back exploded, like a swelling balloon that eventually popped. He jolted back in the air, pulled back by the strings of a blossoming white parachute that slowed his descent.

“Too close for my comfort,” the roguish old geezer remarked with a smirk. Even though it might have seemed that he escaped with his tail caught between his legs, he grabbed what he came for. Unsteady movements plagued his descent in the air, which immediately caught his full attention. He continued to glide—erratically and rapidly—through several different city blocks, and there was nothing ahead that posed a dangerous obstacle or barrier.

Unfortunately, there was a window.

His aging body crashed through the outline of a gothic window, with its broken crystalized pieces resembling the cascade of tiny snowflakes on a lonely winter night. In the midst of his turbulent landing, his fragile hand quickly seized a curtain that happened to depend near the now broken window. His weight caused the curtain to tear from its rod, bringing the cloth down as well. After a rough-sounding thud, he finally alighted on stable ground.

While still experiencing some disorientation, the old geezer rose from his momentary grave that was the curtain, wrapped around his person. It remained latched onto him, even when he stood up on both of his feet. On his expression, he had a goofy, bewildered stare, eyes darting all over the place. He was on the edge, the adrenaline was still pumping in his veins.

Men and women, dressed in fancy and expensive clothing, gawked at the odd scene before them. His tattered, ripped trenchcoat, riddled with bullet holes, became visible under the illumination of the chandeliers that were hanging from above. Wherever he was, the luxurious decorations and structure of the interior would tell anyone that this place was quite important. Bits of chipped glass were on his shoulders, glimmering. He trudged his feet along the curtains in a few steps, slowing him down like he was going through sand. Several eyes were still on him; everybody had automatically maintained a sense of caution around his presence. From the dresses and suits, the spotless porcelain floor, and the intricately designed statues, he definitely had a clear guess about where he was.


“This is one party y’shouldn’t have crashed, geezer.”


Frightening words had reached the old geezer’s ears; a sense of deja vu would quickly wash over. He was already surrounded by men in black suits, with their submachine guns trained at him. They certainly work fast. He hadn’t seen them move this quickly before. Nevertheless, he ironically found himself in the same troubling spot once again. The only difference was that there was no escape like last time—he was ultimately stuck there.

“You wouldn’t shoot an old fuddy-duddy like me, would you?” said the old geezer with a pleading tone, holding his hands up.


His finger twitched.


Immediate gunfire was the response from the threatening men in black suits, pulling their respective triggers and dumping their ammo on the old geezer. Bullets would easily tear through his fragile body and miserable trench coat, and they wouldn’t stop until a literal cloud dust formed within the space. Some of the guests would let out a terrified, bloodcurdling scream, witnessing the literal brutal execution of the elderly. Eventually, the hellfire of bullets would stop, accompanied with the sound of empty clicking of their weapons. They all saw a vague silhouette through the dust, standing for a few seconds.

He dropped dead with a lousy thud. As if nothing ever happened, the ambient jazz music continued playing in the background.

“Alright, clean up the mess,” ordered a brutish man with a fedora, lowering down his weapon.

“What, no way! That old guy looked like he was already rottin’,” said the lanky one of the group.

“Quit yer yappin’, get to cleanin’.”

With dread and reluctance hanging over the rest of the gunmen, they went ahead and approached the scene of the murder. Despite the incident ending with the death of the old geezer, the guests still couldn’t pry away their eyes from the mess. It was that morbid sense of curiosity; there are some in the crowd that had never seen a dead body in the past. They wondered how disfigured he must’ve been from having millions of bullets shredding him to pieces.

Lifting up the curtain off the body of the old geezer, the lanky gunman put his hand on his torn trench coat, stained with actual blood.

Upon contact with the old geezer, his lifeless body quickly erupted and exploded—multi-colored confetti was flying everywhere from the ceiling. Accompanying the confetti, white doves—spreading their beautiful wings—materialized from the explosion and began soaring throughout the ballroom. Smoke emanated from the miniature blast, only covering the proximity within the crime scene. The guests and gunmen stared in awe, finding all of this justifiably unexpected and, to some certain extent, visually appealing.

The lights went out.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” a mysterious voice announced, echoing throughout the ballroom. Instead of the smooth ambient jazz in the background, it began ramping up in a grandiose crescendo.

“ARTHUR BURNWOOD!”

Coming out of the dreary smoke, a fashionably dressed young man appeared; a singular spotlight would turn on and follow his presence. Guests were forced to acknowledge him, as if he were performing on stage. Hanging around his arm, a lavish coat. He wore a suit vest, black formal pants, and a pair of formal shoes. His eyes were concealed under the brim of his fedora. He began taking his first steps on the porcelain floor, whilst adjusting his bow tie.

Soon the audience erupted with applause and cheers, entertained by the show.

The ballroom regained its lights; Burnwood continued to strut down the step of stairs. He didn’t seem to be affected by anyone’s presence at the moment, walking past the many guests that the party held. On his left hand, he juggled the small bottle with the mysterious liquid. As he made his way through the sea of people, the gunmen from before hastily chased him down, pushing and shoving anyone in their way.

“M-Mr. Burnwood! We’re sorry about what happened back th-there,” the brutish man with a fedora nervously spattered.

“Yeah, I thought you were away on business, boss!” the lanky gunman chimed in.

Burnwood stopped in his tracks, and he proceeded to glance over his shoulder. He expressed his amusement with a faint smirk. “Oh, is that what this is all about? Forget about it. You were just doing your job.” He shrugged his shoulders. “C’mon, guys. You should know that my schedule is always changing on the flip of a coin.”

“But—...”

“I am off to see Marcello Trevisani! I am sorry, gentlemen. This really can’t wait. I have quite the gem to show him.”

“Boss, I don’t really think that’s—...”

“Yes, quite. We’ll play poker some other time.”

After ending the conversation, Burnwood slithered his way through the immense crowd of guests in the ballroom and left the confused gunmen behind. In the corner of his eye, he saw Marcello—sitting at a fancy table—in an unfortunate bad mood. Hopefully, this little bottle he stole is going to make that frown go upside down. With the table seemingly displaying a lack of protection, the man simply approached it without any trouble at all.

“How droll. I hoped the little show I put out there would lift your spirits up, young master.” His presence faded into existence after coming out of a nearby crowd of guests.

“Perhaps there was a great lack of immersion.” Burnwood nodded to himself, with his arms crossed. “Yes, yes… I should think about that next time.”

 

[kakemha]

THE METAL ANGEL

CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

The Metal Angel kakemha , Igarashi BriiAngelic , Hikari RoninN7

Hostile Takeover

Amongst the many Guroko cars parked right outside the lively, full-of-life, club known as The Quarter, the rumored metal angel sat in one of them.

This was just another routine raid for Takae. When they first landed in the South Ward, these raids were commonplace. To assert dominance, you had to show that you had that dominance. And the metal angel was usually sent to put someone in their place.

The click of the car door opening could be heard as she stepped out of the car to join the rest of the Associaton lying in wait. Swift sounds of the being flipped over and over can be heard among the anxious mannerisms of the younger members.

She leans against the car door, as calm as ever. She was sent on this raid merely for the fact that she had experience in it. Plus, the fact that she was in on this raid meant that a favor would be owed eventually.

All she needed to do was play the waiting game and strike when the signal was sent.

 

[miki]

DOMINIC SIMMONS & TOBY PATERSON

NPCS

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic In Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Dominic, Toby, Vernon Roda the Red , Alessia angel doe , Arthur SoupMan0512

PANIC IN PARADISE

“How can this possibly be a business venture? You’re trying to become mayor. You know that, right?”

“Well, campaigns are more social than most might think,” Dominic sighed, tilting his empty wine glass to a waiter. As it was refilled with a madder burgundy, he added, “Policy, law, promises—they’re all important to politics. But to secure a vote is to invade the common man’s heart!”

At this, his talking partner raised the crook of his brow. “Is that why you’re so intent on welcoming these… fair friends into our fair city?” He watched his glass as he swirled wine in a whirlpool, but it was clear who he was referring to. It had been Simmons’ own words—the seal of approval he had given to the mass of immigrants that had been creeping into New Oasis’ population without notice.

“So you have been following my campaign!”

“Hard to not.”

“Honestly, the paranoia about this topic is nothing short of absurd. New Oasis prides itself on its promise—a sanctuary for all. Why exclude these kinds of people from that?”

As Simmons spread his arms wide with the passion of his prospects, the tycoon’s eyes glanced anywhere but. “Hm. Where’s that errand boy of yours?”

“Ah. Sent him off. He needed to mingle with people his own age. The man’s too diligent for his own good.”

In the lull of their conversation, a rather loud sound drew the attention of the whole room. What appeared to be an old man had crashed through a window. Though the man beside him looked ready to send him out where he came from, Dominic paused. Curious of this feat, too curious to jump to conclusions.

A sharp instinct for a man pushing fifty. Upon witnessing the centered spotlight, drawn-out crescendo, and theatrical reveal, the politician grinned; possibility flashing in his eyes.

Dominic brushed off the interjection and welcomed the presence of the new stranger. “Burnwood, was it? Quite the entrance you had.”

He held out his hand, offering a firm shake.

---

Toby would never get used to lavish parties. As an assistant to Simmons’ campaign, he reaped benefits such as this. Chandeliers sparkled from the high ceilings and reflected lights off of the wine, the silverware, and the large ice sculpture in the center.

And blinding lights were the least of his worries.

It was difficult to believe that he was attending a party with the guests present. Faces from silver screens had climbed out and become smooth with human movement. Musicians with names he had only ever seen in print threw their precious title around like it was a boy’s rubber ball. Men with names plastered on the sides of the largest corporations sipped wine like any normal person would. And no one glanced twice!

If he were honest, it made him feel edgy. His nerves never cooled from the heat of the moment. He was certain others could see it, too. His smile was a squiggly line as he sped past the crowds. His heart droned on and on, a ceaseless drum with an array of treble clefs lined up on the notation—

With a sharp inhale, Toby relaxed his shoulders. This night would be an unremarkable check in his calendar. It was no large deal, especially for the cost. And beyond that, a job like this was going to fit cleanly on his resume. All he had to do was do it right, and Simmons wasn’t hard to please. As long as he didn’t make a fool of himself, he’d make it out of the ballroom alive.

But he couldn’t be so lucky.

At the sound of shattering glass, Toby’s elegant stumbling came to a halt as he tripped forwards. In a moment of misplaced adrenaline, he grabbed the nearest object—the thin, pale wrist of a woman facing away from him.

It was bad enough to seize a woman like that, especially a rich socialite. But the extent of his error dawned on him as he caught sight of her face.

This was Alessia Trevisani. The deity of his childhood home. Despite not having a drop of Fusillian blood, his mother held the celebrity close to her heart. Her face was kept above the fireplace, honored among her wedding photos and children’s portraits. The day she heard her pianoforte recitals, she quietly wept. The sound was so pure, even the static from the speakers couldn’t dull it.

And now she was here, now faced with his clumsiness. He would have preferred to faceplant into the ground.

There was nothing to say, really—what could he say that wouldn’t earn him a bored gaze and his mother’s eternal shame?

Plenty, plenty of course. He had to begin with apologies.

“I’m so sorry!” Against his pleading will, his face lit up like festive lights. “I didn’t mean that. To grab your arm. To do. That. Ugh…”

 

[Shadow]

Kygo Akainen

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

The Street of Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Carmen, Adol, Jiàn)

Bite Back and Tear Through

The night was a traitor to all the goodwill earned by the day.

Crickets were chirping. And chirping.

Chirping...chirping.

It was a ceaseless rhythm.

An owl cooed haughtily from the neighbor's tree, and some self-righteous bastard cricket in particular was sitting in the grass exactly five meters from the house, carrying on as if anything it had to say mattered.

The East Ward was deceitful, Kygo had decided.

For each loud, chaotic, city-scaped sound that was missing from its repertoire, some small noise would replace it, producing an entirely different type of cacophony that he had yet to gain reprieve from.

It was a similarly subtle sound that led up to a rush of rustling foliage, animal cries, and disturbed murmurs as the mundane citizens of the East Ward collected themselves for something alarming to happen.

Kygo moved from his bed slowly, trying to track down his housemate by the sound of his breathing while he looked for earplugs.
He had been lucky that the man didn't snore, but unfortunately he was not spared when Jing was awake; his conscious breathing rhythm tragically resembling the engine of an overloaded truck.
Even with his earplugs newly in place underneath his muffs, he could identify the recently familiar footsteps and rumbling inhales receding away from the house, until they collided with the avalanche of human and animal distress cries emanating from the south of the Ward.

Kygo choked in the bedroom doorway, willing himself to shut them out, just to function a bit longer. But the reverberations began to take dominance inside his skull.

An underlying roar, accompanied by the rush of hot air trading places with cooler evening air, escaped anything he could identify from past experience.
He knew the ocean, thunder crackling from miles away, the purr of a cat, but now it was his repertoire that was failing him.

And suddenly, it was too late to pretend that he could discern anything, as he stepped outside and was drowned immediately under burnt flesh singeing his nostrils and crackling in his ears. His eyes were spared, but they sought out the orange glow that shot up over the rooftops in brilliant display.
He chased it down, feet hammering solidly against the ground, but for all the world he wouldn't have known if he was treading on the earth or floating above it: the roar had grown so overpowering, comparing to nothing in its scale except the screams of the dying.

He ran until the street before him turned into a valley of fire, dropping straight down into the scorching abyss of hell.

Kygo didn't believe in hell, but he leapt toward a nearby fence and perched on it anyway, trying to take stock of the battle that was newly erupted amongst the geysers before him.

A rival gang.

He could make out their pulses, battling, thrumming, eager and erratic: they surged forward on whispered footsteps.

Kygo lingered, searching for the reprieve to ease his dizzying headache, and mercifully, it came: making itself known above the tidal wave, he latched onto the labored truck engine and let his feet carry him toward it, until it stuttered.

Broken on the ground, his eyes met those of Jing and the whisper cut through his awareness as if it was a personal lullaby.

"Kygo."

He knew the breathing would stop, but he didn't wait for it, allowed the torrent of sounds to connect within him, drawing a link from his rage to his blade to the slice of vengeance into a throat that didn't deserve to scream.
He didn't stop his blade, either, but let his fury become blinded until there were two broken heads on the earth, infinite distance between them.

It wasn't a moment before the thread of his bloodlust reached further, wrapping itself around a pulse that was too steady: apathy in the face of another death scream pouring out into the street, and Kygo's own heart accelerated to a frantic peak that erased his ability to think.

Clutched to a heart that refused to slow down, Kygo's blade took on his thirst for blood and moved him forward, to the man that was cutting down the heads of Hydra without breaking a sweat.

 

[angel doe]

Alessia M. Trevisani

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

vernon, alessia, cesare, arthur, dominic (npc), toby (npc)

Panic in Paradise

Alessia was startled, to say the least. Any irritation or embarrassment she had felt was now long gone. Instead, it was replaced with surprise; How dare this person just grab her like that-

When she saw who it was- an anxious-looking young man, one who was clearly out of his element- Alessia’s expression softened and she set the wine glass she had been holding on the table next to her. She smiled, carefully using her now free hand to help steady him.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright. No need to make a fuss- Accidents happen. I am just relieved you didn’t fall and hurt yourself.” Her smile seemed genuine, bright eyes sparkling as she met his gaze and held his hand gently in hers, “My name is Alessia Trevisani, it is lovely to meet you…?” She trailed off, head tilting slightly to one side as she waited for him to introduce himself.

Those acquainted with Alessia knew well enough that she had a strange taste when picking those she wanted to form connections with; they also knew never to question her when she made a decision. There were many side-eying this interaction, casting dirty looks at the young man who happened to trip his way over to her.

Noticing this out of the corner of her eye, Alessia turned her gaze towards the ones that dared to even consider questioning the decision she made to speak to this man (which seemed to be a majority of them). Her expression went cold, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. It was such a small shift, but it shut them up, and they turned back to their food as if they hadn’t almost ruined any chance they might have had to speak to her.

"Sorry about that, love," Alessia was smiling again, exuding nothing but warmth as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “Now, you were about to tell me your name.”

miki

 

[soIstice]

Carmen Romero

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Adol, Jiàn)

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Complacency was not something Carmen was used to. In a life marked by running and mindless violence, where ruin trailed behind her like a cape, peace is something even more foreign.

The East Ward had come to mean many things to her, but most of all it’s become something so otherworldly, a side of the planet that had remained largely hidden throughout her years of life. It was disquieting in that way, so mundane in the way those houses were shaped, the geniality in the people’s gazes, the relaxed way they carried themselves without the fear of a blade in their back. Even more, the way they looked at her without distrust or disdain, how they treated her as any other person. It had disarmed her at first, before it began to gnaw at her, rubbing against her raw nerves like sandstone.

Restraint was a trait that Carmen clutched to her chest, so she had waited, letting warped animals with crimson eyes explore the city in place of herself. Still, the lack of activity had whittled away at her cautiousness, it seemed.

She was perched on the edge of a roof, jacket fluttering behind her in the wind in an imitation of a pair of wings. One hand gripped the hilt of her sword, the other hovering over the roof’s edge. It was there that she began to notice the peculiarities, a detached gaze judging with a head cocked to the side.

The ground was alive - pulsing in the streets, like the wriggling earthworms she had kept in a jar when she was young. She could sense the unease filter out, drawing a sword tarnished from years of use from its scabbard in one smooth motion. Narrowing her eyes, she stretched her conscience out, feeling, probing, for any creation that knew what would be causing the phenomena. Commanding a few to come closer, scenes of the mundane life she had grown accustomed to in the East Ward flipped through her mind and - oh.

The screams started, all too grating in her ears yet with a touch of familiarity that she welcomed, ripping her away into her own body. On the roof, it gave her a first-row experience of the circumstance. The ground cracked open, illuminating the blanket of night with torrents of fire that seared themselves into her retinas. Carmen shot up on her feet, embers licking at her shoes as she stepped back, eyes wary as flames shot past her previous location. A gloved hand came up to lightly cover her nose; smoke would rise soon.

A scowl played across her lips, her body wound up tight in alarm and uncertainty in a fashion that had seemed so second nature before New Oasis. She saw the situation for what it was: a chance for violence, to return to the standard, the true beginning of a war that would be paid for in blood and she was more than willing to embrace it if it wasn’t hers. She was thankful for the opportunity at the very least, but, Carmen mused, whoever caused it would still have to pay a hefty price, wouldn’t they? She did not take attacks lightly, no, not at all. Certainly not when she still had something to prove here.

In an act as natural as breathing to her, yet filled with a grotesqueness that felt utterly inhuman, she wrenched the mental thread connecting her and a creation by the sidelines. Her body seemed to dissolve, veins and aortas squirming like maggots and bursting through her flesh to create a crimson shell that collapsed into itself. Unnatural; a monster, they had called her at first, but Carmen was the one who was still alive and dead men had no voice that could reach the living.

A twitching crow left the roof with the dizzying smell of blood, twirling above the fires and circling the battle. Now tucked in the shadows of a building, Carmen tilted forward before stopping herself with a hand on the ground, crouching in the darkness of a sidewalk pierced through by the fire. Bold, the attackers were, to initiate such an attack. A swarm of red flies swooped out from her jacket, scattering, searching. She would judge for herself whether that was rightful confidence or them playing the part of the fool.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

JIÀN QIÁNG

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

(Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Adol, Carmen)

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Waiting was nothing for Jiàn Qiáng. There were many a times where the only thing they could do was watch the moons pass by. Once, when they hoped to high heavens that their love stood above all, and would pull them out of their wretched pit. They had lost count of the moons since. Hundreds must have passed. What was the harm in adding to the count?

They'd been graciously handed a base in the form of the East Ward. But it was world they didn't belong in. Its people and lands, unmarred and deprived of ugly truths. As though a dragon slept beneath their feet, waiting for the day of retribution.

Jiàn felt that the citizens were the lucky ones. And Jiàn didn't deserve to mingle with them.

But regardless of their thoughts, the East was their territory. So when a a song of violence ripped through the ward, and its assailants made themselves known to the Hydras, something stirred in the East. There was movement, but none immediately obvious. The sleeping dragon was disturbed.

They watched the rival gang spread out like the arrogant fowls they were. Zeng Lihua, a lone and middle-aged widow watering her garden saw the Hushed Assassin, Kygo, lunge forth to join the fray. The drunk homeless man who lived under a bridge, known only as Tao, watched Erinyes, the blood-twisting mercenary, take to the spectator's role. And Han Zihao, a studious and religious college boy, took shelter in the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, where Padre and Maestro were.

And with the battlefield mapped out, Jiàn Qiáng disappeared from the water tower where they perched. The song's Crescendo neared.

One gangster wandered around the corner of a house when someone sprang from the bushes. They jabbed a fan in their neck, and split it—and his throat—wide open.

Another in the distance began squinting at the sight, thinking that the cadaver looked awfully familiar. Then she felt a slight prick in her neck. Then vertigo as her heart stopped pumping blood, and she crumpled to the floor.

With no more approaching their location, Jiàn began gathering materials from abandoned garages and gardens. Lawn forks, metal wires, a spare car battery from a shelf. They hot-wired a vehicle left in the driveway. One glance back at the distant water tower, and they were confident that a decisive impact at the supports could do the trick.

If things went according to plan—and they knew well how elastic plans could be—they could wipe out most of the attackers and the flames in one fell swoop.

 

[thebigfella]

Okubo

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Eiji simj26 Mitsuki Eteri

Bite Back and Tear Through

Demons danced in the flames; they weaved through the snapping maws of the fervent Hydra heads. There was no doubt they were at a disadvantage; calloused hands used to intimidate and send messages through fists found themselves against the tight grips of blades. Businessmen had no right going against trained killers, and encroaching on the territory of a starving predator was nothing but a suicide mission.

But yet, the blood that split across the grass, that soaked into the soil and coasted through the cracks of the concrete was from the decapitated heads of Hydras. Desperation overpowered reason; backs against the wall had made the yakuza bare their fangs. It quickly became apparent that these weren’t the suits that handled the money and walked around demanding respect. They were calvary, with the adrenaline of bloodshed as deeply written in them as the Hydras.

They were moving swiftly, without hesitation, the understanding that numbers would soon tip the scales of the appearance of the wrong type of person, making this a losing battle in an instant.

“DOOOORAAAAHHH!” A massive fist rocketed forward, crashing through the atmosphere like a meteor as it slammed into a clenched gut; the impact coursed through their body to cause their stomach to blow out past their spine, blood and bile pouring from their lips as their eyes rolled back into their skull, their knees buckling as they fell to the ground, twitching like a crushed insect.

“Peh! I thought these Hydras were supposed to be trained killers!? Ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of pesky roaches!” The large man shouted, a hand coming up to stroke his beard, the ball and chains attached to his arms clinking as he moved. His hairless dome glossed as the fire continued to roar behind him, the hue shining through his eyes as he looked around, gaze only narrowing as he spotted something finally catching his interest.

“There he is. “The Man who Houses Demons,” huh?” The brute gave a crooked tooth smirk, “Looks like we were able to get him to come out, just like Aniki wanted!”

Immediately, he slammed his weight down onto one leg, like a sumo wrestler, as he cracked his neck and the veins began to bulge out of his neck. “Mind if I say hello!?”


The flames behind the titan shook and quivered before splitting apart like a wall of curtains as a figure walked through. The shadows cast by the flame left half his body within the darkness, the demonic mask upon his face lifelessly staring forward as embers and sparks flew across his armor.

He held a katana in each hand, the blades shimmering and glistening underneath the sheen of fresh blood, the chipped edges of the blade growing dull from having to chop through bone, the grips covered in bandages.

As the flames around him began dissipating, wisping away around him, the carnage he had left could be made out through the shifting inferno. Bodies of Hydras lined the streets, along with fellow Guroko soldiers. For every one of his comrades that had fallen, he took 5 more as compensation, decapitated heads, and amputated limbs decorating the scenery.

“Go ahead,” the samurai spoke, flicking the blood off his blades nonchalantly to paint the ground and a nearby car, “We have 10 more minutes. Keep him occupied Ōkubo.”

“YOSHAAAA!” Ōkubo hollered, and immediately, the ground underneath his feet ruptured, leaving a crater underneath where his feet previously were. His massive form soared through the air, casting a brief eclipse as he came downwards like a heavenly spear, his barefoot lancing right towards the Father and his humble organ player; he spoke in a tongue he was sure both could understand.

“NIIII-HAOOO!”

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Carmen soIstice

Bite Back and Tear Through

“Overzealous as always,” The oni commented, as a shadow began to materialize behind him, its giant gangly hands hovered above his head, eyes upon its palms staring down, as its sharpened teeth were barely visible within the umbra.

A hoarse voice question, dry of any inflection. Before he responded, the masked samurai didn’t need to look up or try to parse the creature’s existence.

“Go. You have 8 minutes.”

With a mangled laugh that sounded between a hiss and a crow’s cackle, the monstrosity faded away to a nearby alley, swallowed by the night. It weaved through the side streets in a blur of motion, its body crawling under cars and squeezing past the branches of trees as it maneuvered itself down the road, brief glimpses of the flames and battle appearing out of the corner of its vision as it glanced towards the gaps between houses and stores.

Its bulbous eyes narrowed as it spotted a swarm of red flies in its path. Without a second thought, its massive maw opened and slammed shut, swallowing everything it caught in its gullet with a guttural gulp before it writhed through the gates protecting the church, its body coasting through the greenery as it smoked and smoldered, briefly illuminating its disproportionate body, before it finally reached the massive doors of the chapel.

Slowly, it dropped itself down to the ground, its body flattening like it wasn’t made of any solid mass as it squeezed underneath the gap between the door and the floors, slipping itself inside as its sharp-ended tendrils squirmed and writhed to force itself the rest of the way through.

What was that creature? And what was it after?

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Kygo Shadow

Bite Back and Tear Through

“Everything is going smoothly,” A calm voice came from behind the demonic mask. He had stopped his conquest only to observe the surroundings for a moment. The ground still quivered under his feet, burning hot with the preparations to explode on command. Eruptions had continued to go off; more and more Hydras would be awakened from their slumber and would come to act as cavalry.

“Don’t be scared of their numbers!” He declared to all of his men nearby, brandishing his blades in preparation to join back into the fight, “Tear those heads off as many times as they regrow!”

But, screams overwrought his declaration. Heavy blood splattered across the ground as bodies toppled from the force of gravity.

The warrior senses tingles, his extremities pulsed. The palpable sense of danger that one’s life was under threat, made his body move before his mind turned around with his blades readied.

Metal clashed against metal, sparks flew, and muscles tensed.

The tip of the knife held right above his face, prepared to split his mask open and tear through his skull. The samurai grit his teeth as his enraged eyes bore through the mask to stare at his attacker.

“Close call,” his words wrought of bitterness that the taste of near-death carried, as his fingers twitched, shifting his weight to end the clash between Kygo as he kicked himself back, creating some distance between him and the Hydra, shoes skidding against the ground before he came to a stop.

He took the time to take Kygo in, his blunted katana raised in preparation. Compared to other Hydras who killed for sport, the aura of this one was maniac, uncontained.

Someone who was soaked in blood because they couldn’t control themselves.

This would be one of more entertaining heads to chop off.

???

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [Bite Back and Tear Through]

LOCATION:

South Border, East Ward

INTERACTIONS:

Jiàn AriAriAbabwa

Bite Back and Tear Through

“Looks like you’re having fun back here.”

Footsteps across the pavement, a leisurely stroll. Hands in pinstripe suit pockets. They approached from the opposite end of the street.

A cigarette that had nearly burnt to the end of the butt hung from his lips, its last embers still sparking within the cold night air. He was the type who wore sunglasses at night, unable to see his eyes past the shade.

He was also the type to walk around caked in blood; splatters of slaughter dripped down the right half of his face, and the smell of rust had soaked into the whites of his collared shirt.

His gaze looked upon the amalgamation of household utilities and misshapen wires, all put together in preparation for whatever they were planning.

He took a moment to look towards the bodies of his fellow yakuza, left to bleed out on the ground as ichor spilled from the newly made gaps in their flesh; the last of the life had already left their bodies.

In response, he simply blew out smoke, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it underneath his nicely polished shoes.

“You know, I’d be pretty heated if some cockeyed yuck decided to use my car for their crazy plans while I’m out on a family vacation,” he spoke, seeming not to care if a language barrier inhibited their communication as he looked upon Jiàn with a frown.

“I’m a bit of an empath, so I can’t just sit by while you mess up someone’s ride like that; it will give me bad karma. Do you even know what that is? A Benel Mark III. It’s a really nice car. Got a nice gloss on it, she’s well taken care of, probably a man’s pride and joy, loves it more than he loves his kids,” he explained nonchalantly, as he ran his hands through his hair like this was nothing more than a casual conversation.

“So…”

Then, abruptly, his gaze sharpened; it narrowed like daggers to look through the mask and bore into the Hydra.

“I’m asking you politely to stop what you’re doing.”

 

[luciferin]

CHOJI NAKAYA

- CS Link

SCENE:

Guroko Assoc. Arc 1: Scene 1 [Hostile Takeover]

LOCATION:

The Quarter, South Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

The Metal Angel kakemha , Hari BriiAngelic , Hikari RoninN7 , Choji luciferin

Hostile Takeover

A white-haired boy walks under the glistening billboards, his innocence unstained by the dancing shadows. The streets are beautiful like this, all rushing cars and riveting entertainment and roaring music. Choji can't help but tip his head back, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting in soft laughter. They say that the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, but who's to say he can't dance in both?

Maybe people like him find the darkness just as beautiful.

After all, even the rich, the elite, the perfect can't resist the South's allure, flooding the classiest parts of the Ward to follow the same natural inclinations. In this world, liberation's a drug, and they're all addicts. It's hardly a bad thing.

Well, up until you disrupt the scenery, that is. Can't do good business when someone's runnin' the show like they're all wild.

"At least, that's what boss told me," Choji murmurs, raising a hand to scratch his cheek in confusion. "I don't see the problem with wild, but I'll go and send them off if the family's got a problem with it. Though, boss did warn me to be careful."

He continues down the street, expression thoughtful before it lights up with his discovery of a solution. "Mm, yeah, I'll just have to try my hardest as thanks! I'll make sure to work well with the others so that his connections get made."

Mind made, Choji settles into the shadows, following his directions—left, right, left—to come to a stop outside of the Quarter with bright eyes and a wide smile, right in the line of view of anyone answering the door like he's a customer rather than a warning.

 

[thebigfella]

Marcello Trevisani

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

INTERACTION:

Arthur SoupMan0512

Panic in Paradise

The smash of glass turned heads, and as shards scattered across the laminated floors, heads pivoted, eyes moved, forks stopped, and drinks paused at the brides of lips. Everything turned to the man who had entered, the mess of glass and a strewn body across the floor.

Suits moved before anyone could think while the members of Trevisani watched on with glares of annoyance. A sense of surprise was swallowed by irritation of something disrupting their affairs, a vision that would harm the optics of their hopeful cohorts within the New Oasis expansion.

The Guardians didn’t think such a thing through; muscle didn’t have the eye of business, and before anyone could stop them, bullets were shot. Fired off like an execution until there was nothing left in the magazines.

It was to send a message, and the silence amongst the guests, who could only stare with their jaws dropped open, showed it had been received. Sweat began to form at their brows as fear chilled their extremities. The natural reaction to escape was circumvented by the cold looks of the Trevisani, which established that this was nothing more than a regular Sunday to them.

The reality that this was a crime family finally began to sink in.


…Until the show started.

Marcello watched from his seat as the confetti flew and the doves flapped their wings; within the darkness, he left to prop his head up with his hands as he watched on with a slight frown.

“Hmph! Ridiculous as always!” His father stated, holding a lobster claw in his hands as he waved it towards Arthur, made his exit out of the smoke, though the undeniable clamor of the crowd from his entrance was a testament that his eccentricity had captured the guests’ hearts. Taking them from terror to thrill, all their fears had stowed away in the guise of being nothing more than act.

“Hohoh! They had me going there for a second!” A portly capitalist said while clapping his hands, looking to his fellow guests at the table, members of the Trevisani who could do nothing but half-chuckle in response.

“What a daring display! I didn’t know it was food and show!” Clamored a woman nearby, her face so caked with makeup she looked more like a doll than a person.

As troublesome as it was, Trevisani had no choice but to look past such an outburst, if not accept it. Conversations that had hit a slump revitalized, and stiffer dealbreakers felt looser in their offers; things were moving more smoothly.

“Arthur Burnwood,” Marcello recited the name openly as a waiter whispered in his ear before walking off. There was no surprise from the young mafioso as the Amestrian-born man appeared before his table, holding a bottle.

Without any sense of respect, no bow or request to speak, Arthur made his presence known at the table.

“You have a lot of nerve,” a voice came from one of the women at the table as they glared at Arthur from behind the pile of lobster shells growing on her plate. It was a look of disdain that was shared by most of the family.

“Causing a stunt like that. And now you decide to come to our table without us requesting your audience?” Another one of the Trevisani chimed in, stopping eating to rest a shoulder on the table.

They had no reason to hold malice in their voice, so they didn’t, getting angry at a pest beneath them. That was the job of their Guardians. But before they could snap their fingers and have Arthur taken away and “punished,” Marcello raised his hand, stilling any movement.

“I appreciate your consideration. Performances like that aren’t my personal preference. I’m more of a fan of the opera,” Marcello stated as he eyed the man. He wasn’t much older than him, probably by a few years. However, his gaze did focus a bit on the bottle he had.

Before he could question, the appearance of another guest made him immediately straighten up his posture slightly, his bemused expression turning to something more natural as he looked towards the older man who could be running the city one day.

He didn’t say anything, but he gave a glance towards Arthur that spoke for him.

“Be careful.”

Messing up a connection like this for Trevisani would be fatal.

 

[simj26]

PADRE

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 (Bite Back and Tear Through)

LOCATION:

Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Mitsuki, Eiji

Bite Back and Tear Through

“Oh! Thank you, Mitsuki. How gracious.” The priest took the earplugs from his offering partner. “If it all goes well, there will be no need for your hymns tonight.” He tucked the earplugs into his pocket, and turned his attention back towards the chaos once more. The expression upon his face was unreadable, almost as if he were both entranced and disgusted by the wanton destruction, as if he yearned for it, yet shunned it all the same.

He blinked, and the gaze faded away, hardening into focus. “Quick, through the doors,” he directed the civilians that had heeded their instincts to take shelter in his church. “When everyone is through, shut the doors, and hurry to the back. Mitsuki–”

He stopped, then whirled around, slamming an open palm into Mitsuki's chest, shoving him away, and with his other arm, took hold of a stray civilian that had not made it to the church, and dove to one side, shielding them with his body. The spearing kick missed him by inches, slamming into the paved road of the church, scattering debris and dirt around the impact.

He snarled, like a beast, and straightened up, shaking the debris free from his habit.

“Do you know how MUCH it costs to maintain the lawn, young man?! Can you even IMAGINE the amount of work I put in to make sure this place looks halfway presentable?! You think all this was made in one day?! I put in the work, and you just–” He stopped short of releasing a frustrated groan. It took him a moment to compose himself, taking in a deep breath, and steadying his voice. He brushed his hair back with his free hand. “What I mean to say is, there are no worthwhile warriors here, merely frightened civilians. I have no interest in harming others, or for you to harm them.”

He turned the hammer over in his hand, and a moment of hesitation or thoughtfulness came over him, before he resumed. “Perhaps a talk over tea would be beneficial for both parties. I do not want my church to go through a renovation period, and you probably do not want to further escalate this destruction for the Organisers to come down to investigate this.”

He rubbed his chin in thought. “Unless you weren't participating in the first place? That would be a conundrum.”

[

 

[Stern LuLuLu]

Adol L. Crush

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Place of the Battle, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji, Mitsuki, Kygo, Jian, Carmen

Bite Back and Tear Throughh

It was just another day in the many long days of uneventful peacefulness. Most of the days felt like an exact copy of the previous one. People have been nice and friendly all the time. with him, and most of the other hydras, just having to deal with it, only having certain golden moments where they could just release on whatever poor soul decided to cross them at the time.

But then it happened the day finally came. An oh boy, did it come with a bang. But it came not with one explosion, but with the series of them. One moment he was walking outside one of the small businesses that the hydras have that he was in charge of. He was about to take a drink when the place suddenly blew up. throwing him back and knocking him off his feet. As he lay there on the ground, he heard more explosions follow afterward. Right behind them were the cries and screams of people followed by the sounds of fighting. Not too long after the sky became more crimson, and filled with smoke.

That’s when it started to happen again it felt like his heart was starting to beat again. And hearing the sounds of fighting, see in the sky above him with fire and smoke. This all made him feel like he didn’t have to hide his instance anymore. Even though he knew he shouldn’t be put on like this. He still couldn’t help it. Picking himself up and dusting himself off he checked himself. Only a couple of scratches and bruises not bad. Seeing some civilians on the ground already gone. Then turning to the drink, he had in his hand it was all mostly spilled out all over the ground. He drank what was left of it and threw it into the burning rubble in front of him. taking a quick look around the area he went and picked up his sledgehammer.

Walking to the closest sound of fighting where he saw a couple of the attackers finishing off some of his fellow hydras. taking a vantage of the situation, he pulled out a handful of marbles. Then talk to them in the air before hitting them with the flat side of the hammer, sending them off at them like a shotgun. watching them all fall to the ground not moving anymore.” Crap I used to be better at that. I was trying to see if I can see you and get some information on them. Oh well, hopefully, I find some more on my way to meet up with some of the others.“ crap I used to be better at that. I was trying to see if I can see if I could get some information on them. Oh well, hopefully I find some more on my way to meet up with some of the others. “ taking another look around and seeing all of the destruction. He thought to himself that the others were probably gonna make me fix most of this. kicking a rock a good distance out of anger. Throwing his sledgehammer over his shoulder and heading towards the closest sound of commotion to him. Planning on doing this until he finds another headhunter.

“The game begins again“

 

[Damafaud]

Helena P. Letya

CS LINK

SCENE:

Northern Star Arc 1: Scene 1 [Union Born Under Starlight]

LOCATION:

Warehouse, North Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Jacques, Yelizaveta, Sanya, Helen

Union Born Under Starlight

Helen took a swig off soda pop and another from the brew. The first one hit the spot better, she decided before tossing the bottle down the roof. It shattered without much noise. No heads turned, no bystanders, no sound made at all.

Dame Liz hooked her up to the gig. Strange woman, which was why she liked her. Strange meant worth a gander over. That's why she took the job, too. Interesting, unlike the rest. Well, she was more keen on unraveling the secrets of the union those high-up suits wanted gone than assisting the suits, but cash is cash, and getting in some good books wouldn't hurt since she just moved North.

Helen phased down the roof and the wall. She got a name tag and some clothes, but she preferred some good old snooping, and proper snooping at that. No snooping more proper than one she did being in and through stuff. Walls were nice and thick in factories. Enough space for a stroll instead of the crab walk she had to do usually. No one paid close attention to walls, too. Just a little bit sticking her ear out above head level and she got to hear a ton.

Then, something really took her eyes and ears; at a corner, couple of workers whispering. Still too far from the wall, though, so she got to shift some more. Off the wall, into the ground, a little ear near some shoes. She stayed still and listened keenly. If she had to catch a breath, she would take it after going far beforehand.

 

[Roda the Red]

VERNON FARNESE

CS Link

SCENE:

Trevisani Arc 1: Scene 1 [Panic in Paradise]

LOCATION:

Ballroom, West Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Vernon, Arthur, Alessia, Cesare

PANIC IN PARADISE

The rich and powerful dance and gorge


All the while they ponder anew


How many connections they can forge


So sit back, it's quite the view




Jolly laughter bellowed from deep within Vernon's lungs, his palm finding its way to his linen-clad lap, slapping it enthusiastically. It was as if he had heard the most hilarious of jokes, a masterpiece of comedic performance, whereas in reality, it was a middling effort at best. Regardless, it still managed to evoke a smile from the perpetrator, a stout little man, he was, his suspenders digging into his flabby and bloated body as he laughed in response.


"Finally, someone who can take a damn joke around 'ere!" Spewed the obese man, his thick accent coming through in each word he uttered.


"Well, sir, I get called many things usually, but a stick-in-the-mud sure ain't one of them" He responded, his best salesman's smile in full display. Despite having a fairly humble appearance, the man Vernon had striked conversation with was still a relatively wealthy entrepeneur, a smart man who amassed a land of his own through pennies he would earn from as early as one digit of age, a land that would turn into fruitful center of commerce decades later, turning the middle-aged man into a valuable asset for the Trevisani, should they manage to land him dancing atop their palm, as they had done with many, many others.


Some foolish and petulant individuals might be able to see through Vernon's impure sincerity, throwing detestable claims such as him lying or sucking up to the rich. But the young Farnese was above such heinous trickery, his laughter wasn't fake! Neither was the smile he offered, or his subsequent words, for that matter. No, they were merely embelished.


Being someone with an affection for the lavish lifestyle, it was no surprise for anyone familiar with Vernon, that he would be one of the first to show up to the party. He wasted little time to really get into the meat of it, both figuratively and literally, as his fork and knife were tinted rose by the juices of the rare lamb chops laid on his plate, one of his personal favorites, in fact.


The wealthy man reached for the pocket of his coat, gently pulling out a thick cigar case, it was made of a deep mahogany leather, and subtlely gilded in brass. The man attempted to reach for his lighter as his teeth grabbed a hold of his cilindrical load of nicotine. But an intrepid hand from the young gangster reached forward, a small flame igniting from atop his protruding index fingertip. The older man was lightly startled at first, his muscles relaxing shortly after, his cheeks turning concave as he sucked on his expensive cigar, a sound of satisfaction coming out of him as thick smoked escaped from the gap between his lips.

The optimistic atmosphere was mercilessly cut down with the sound of shattered glass, commotion quickly making its way into the heart of the ballroom. the Farnese representative only spared a vague glance to the event, seemingly unbothered by the sound of a hail of bullets tearing a man to shreds. His wondering of who would be foolish enough to casually make such a suicidal entrance was short lived, as theatrics had turned the apparent execution into a grand entrance by Burnwood. Vernon snickered as he rolled his eyes, it was nothing short of puzzling for him as to why some people would go the extra mile to make such an impression. To him, it was all about being yourself, or rather, the yourself that you want people to believe.

Finishing the last bits of fine dining on his first plate, the young man simply laid against the rest of his seat, staring at a slender cigarette pinched between his fingers. His lips pursed as air was pushed out, and air was then turned into a flickering fire, igniting the tip. The night was young, and Vernon hoped for the fun to continue, albeit still aware of the purpose for the meeting. Perhaps if luck would have it, a beautiful damsel might even come his way with the opportunity for business, that would surely be killing two birds with one stone.

"You can come out now, by the way" he uttered nonchalantly after exhaling a small cloud of smoke. From under the hanging ivory silk draped over the table, the business man shakily made his way back into his seat, readjusting his tie as he pretended that he didn't just have his soul momentarily escape his body.

Spoiler: Notifs

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[Eteri]

MITSUKI SHOJI

CS Link

SCENE:

Hydras Arc 1: Scene 1 [BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH]

LOCATION:

Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, East Ward

PARTICIPANTS:

Eiji, Mitsuki

BITE BACK AND TEAR THROUGH

Mitsuki observed them. Clinically detached, like a judge reading out a death sentence. The priest and his lambs made for a fascinating scene together. Guiding the weak in this growing mayhem. A carbon copy of a chapter that could've been directly taken from the book this whole farce of a faith surrounded itself with.

He truly admired Eiji's conviction for his profession, but pitied him nonetheless. There was nothing sadder than wasting one's time on worthless endeavours, and these citizens were anything but worthwhile.

Suddenly, a distinctive scream pierced the roaring tides of the inferno and grated unpleasantly in his ears. He turned around just in time to see the hulk of a creature appearing out of the flames. It was enormous and, truthfully, rather repulsive to look at.

Just as he was about to step aside of his own accord, a hard shove forced him to do so anyway. He slipped, barely catching himself before experiencing the fiery heat up close. Still, he appreciated Eiji's quick thinking, preferring this slight stumble to sharing the same fate as the pavement he had just stood on.

However, this feeling did not extend to the words his partner uttered afterwards. Mitsuki could barely keep himself from voicing his disapproval out loud.

But this wasn't the time to stagnate, so he waved at the sheep who was just rescued by Eiji. They were caught between the two fronts, visibly too scared or incompetent to independently move out of the figurative gunfire. Thankfully, the citizen noticed his gesture and rushed over, tripping over loose debris in their rush as they tried not to get too close to the giant.

Once at his side, they opened their mouth, eager to speak some nonsense, which he immediately denied. He silenced them by raising a finger to his lips and silently shaking his head, before placing the other hand on their shoulder. Gently but firmly, he guided them towards the gates of the church.

In doing so, he partially turned his back on the inferno and the hostile pair that emerged from it. Not out of ignorance, but rather out of trust or whatever equivalent could persevere among the Hydra.

Even if Mitsuki might disagree with his current approach, he still had faith in Eiji's abilities. But that belief wasn't enough to prevent a certain premonition from warning him. It sounded like thousands of unbearable chimes that was most likely going to ring true. After all, their new guests didn't seem particularly inclined to diplomacy.

There was one place in his mind that might be of some help. Certainly not out here, but rather inside the church. That was also the same reason why he even bothered dealing with the civilian in the first place.

Reaching the doorsteps of the church, his gaze went past the lost people in the direction of his desired destination. The true heart of every church, where God's music played. Just loud enough to drown out the raging flames and sound in the ears of the nearby people. Including the guests currently renovating the front side.

The organ would do just fine.