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

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VULKEN BECKMAN
CS Link
SCENE:
Crossed Lines
LOCATION:
The Mirage Diner, South District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: November 11th, 2014
PARTICIPANTS:
Vulken, Zane
CURRENT STAGE:
2 (Current Temp: 800 °F | 426°C )
CROSSED LINES

“Don’t fuckin’ play stupid with me.”

The words quickly growled out through firmly clenched teeth. Feigning ignorance only served to further incite his rage, and any soul close enough could feel the temperature in the area rising with every passing moment.The crunching of glass shards beneath Draken’s boots grew louder with every step he got closer to his opponent as he slowly lifted himself off of the ground.

With a deadly glare, the Jack stood before his friend’s assailant, fists clenched tightly enough to draw blood from his own palms if he wasn’t careful. The bastard wanted an explanation? Sure. He’d go along with this stupid little game– it would be the last one this fuck ever got to play, after all.

“...Yong-Yut.” He snapped, commanding eye contact with his piercing glout. “You put your hands on her. Nobody... nobody touches her without goin' through me first.”

The lack of expression on Zane’s face made it clear to Draken that he had taken the bait. A fight was imminent– it likely would only be a few more brief seconds before the two were neck and neck. He only hoped that he would be able to hang onto the small shred of sense he still had and spared him in the end of all this. It wasn’t like he was one of the targets Lyric would sic him onto, after all.

His arm shook to loosen the sleeves of his jacket, sliding it off and tossing it back into the booth he had just tossed the man out of to reveal a skintight black undershirt. Without wasting any more time, his fists rose upward into a standard guard, his lead foot firmly planted forward.

“Time to teach you a lesson,” Draken muttered, orbs still locked onto him with blazing fury projected into each iris. A familiar crimson hue overtook the transparent air that surrounded his body as his ferocious hunger for violence alone catapulted him into the second stage of his potential.

“Put your hands up. Now.”

@BluEndings
 
Zentsupa Pei
CS Link
SCENE:
Next Aisle Down
LOCATION:
8th Street Plaza, South District
TIME:
Post-Outbreak || July 12th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Jun @King Crimson, Pei
Next Aisle Down

A step into the department store brought a change of atmosphere. The echoing chattering of the open area was replaced with the sounds of calming music through speakers, juxtaposed with the frantic shoppers. Shelves had been cleared, carts were full, and checkout lines twirled and twisted around each other in a disorganized faction. Shouting and screaming from workers and customers alike mingled together.

Pei was stoically overjoyed about the whole situation, not flinching as a group of women ran past him, tearing each other apart, grabbing at clothes and hair as they juggled around a measly pack of batteries. He strolled past, hands in his pockets; meanwhile, more people funneled into the store behind him, each of them quickly joining the ongoing rampage, while others ran out their arms and necks, holding rows and rows of bags.

“Kekekek, this will be a great place to start,” Pei stated before twisting his stance to look at Jun, nodding his head towards the ensuing madness with his usual grin, “Let’s make a game out of this! We’ll call it RUSH HOUR!” Pei declared, his hands reaching underneath his shirt, and in one swift motion, from seemingly out of nowhere, two giant rocket launchers with four compartments filled with bright red missiles were in his hands, his sharp-toothed smirk exploding into a frenzied smile as he cackled.

He tossed Jun one of the giant missile launchers, expecting him to catch it. He quickly went and hopped onto his steed, a deep blue cart. Pei grasped at the rim as he lobbed himself over it, landing right into it like a child. He laughed in anticipatory joy, raising a finger and pointing it directly forward.

“The men’s clothing aisle is right ahead! The winner is the first one to get there! Got that!?” Pei shouted before clenching his finger into his fist, raising it excitedly as he stood up in the cart proudly. "Once we're there, we’re gonna go on a shopping spree. Take whatever you want. It’s about to all be free!”

With no countdown or indication anything had started, Pei hoisted up the rocket launcher over his shoulder, then tilted it downwards, right towards the ground below him, his crazed smile wide as he pulled down on the trigger.

“FIRE! KEKEKEKEKEK!”

With a flash of light within the rocket barrels, there was barely even a second before all four missiles shot out simultaneously and crashed into the ground; a flurry of explosions shook not only the store but the whole foundation of the mall. Everything went silent for a moment as people stumbled, and lights flickered, but then quickly, screams of frustration turned to cries of pure fear as people wondered what had just happened. In their shock, people froze; others ran, shoving through people and hopping over shelves to try and go towards the exits.

A plume of smoke swallowed the whole floor, and the storefront’s glass shattered from the concussive blast, allowing smoke to billow out from the explosion, earning many concerned looks.

“KEKEKEKEKEKEEKEKEKEKEK!”

The madman's laugh echoed the populace’s reactions; from the plume of smoke burst a spear through the clouds, the atmosphere shaping and molding around a silhouette as it attempted to break through the miasma until it finally pulled itself out of the clutches of darkness. His blonde hair fluttered as he sailed through the air, and smoke and embers hung to the cart and his clothes; his hands gripped around the edges as if it were an amusement ride.

Gravity canceled the propellant of momentum as he found himself being brought back down to earth, but instead of reaching the floor, his cart landed right on top of a shelf, half of his wheels hanging over the edge; Pei quickly shifted his weight to the side, balancing the cart as he coasted across the ceiling high shelf, its contents being launched off as he caused the whole thing to shake and go uneven from the extra weight. The people in the aisle looked up, but as they saw themselves threatened to topple, they quickly scrambled out.

Reaching the end of the line, Pei’s gaze narrowed. The men’s clothing section was drawing close. At this rate, he could easily make it there. But suddenly, he changed direction. He let go of the cart as it careened towards the edge of the shelf, and instead of falling with it as it reached the ground, he grasped himself around a nearby column.

The cart rocketed ahead, clattering against the ground and rolling ahead until it hit a bump in the barrier between tile and carpet, flinging it upward and leaving it crash against a bunch of clothing racks. The whole thing spilled into a pile as Pei slid down the pole, his decision stopping as his feet stood on top of a red box.

EMERGENCY was brightly labeled its glass casing, a phone held inside; Pei didn’t hesitate to lean down, his gangly fingers clutching around the metal handle to open the glass case, and then grab the red phone within, a press of a few buttons quickly responded with the sound of dialing, then ringing, but promptly the other end was picked up.

“Security, how can I help--”

“There’s been an explosion on the second floor!” Pei’s roar came through the phone, loud enough to cause the whole case to rattle as he leaned forward, holding the phone up in front of his face, “Hurry up and bring some fuckin’ security, cockmunch! KEKEKEKEKEK!”

Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone back on the receiver and then returned to his crouch position, glancing over his shoulder, “Now things are about to get interesting! Kekekekek!”

Pei hopped off the phone box, and once again, his hands were calmly in his pockets. The ongoing sounds of the store’s noise did not disturb him as he made his way to the clothing section with a casual stride.

“I bet that fuckhead gremlin is already there. Kekekekek.Guess I can let him think he won this time.” Pei mused, a half-smirk on his lips as he went to meet Jun, whatever state he was in.

 
Musai
CS Link
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Musai, Yong-Yut, Hitoshi, Helva, Bolt, Hector, Milo, Pei
New Phoenix Golden Age

Musai's eyes lit up, reflecting a mixture of surprise and genuine delight as he spotted Yong-Yut across the room. A broad, somewhat mischievous smile spread across his face, momentarily softening the usual sternness that marked his features. He walked over with a confident swagger that was typical of him, his gaze fixed on her as if she were the only person in the room.

"Yo-Yu!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a warm, teasing tone. "Look at you, making everyone in this dusty old hall look sharp! Missed ya—feels like it's been ages." He gave her a quick, playful nudge with his elbow, his informal manner contrasting sharply with the somber ambiance of the gathering.

Musai crossed his arms, mirroring her stance, his eyes briefly scanning the meticulously tailored suits around them. "You really outdid yourself with these threads. Making us look almost respectable, huh?" His chuckle was light, but his eyes were serious, appreciative of her effort and skill.

Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice to match hers, his usual bravado softened to a conspiratorial whisper. "Honestly, Yo-Yu, I'm not sure what to expect today. But whatever goes down, it’s good to know you’re here. Makes this whole fancy shindig feel a bit more like home." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "And don’t worry about the radio silence; we’ve all been caught up in our own stuff. Just glad we can catch up now, yeah?" His smile was reassuring, meant to bolster her spirits as much as to ease his own unease about the day’s unclear objectives.

joshuadim joshuadim gxxberkit gxxberkit Peckinou Peckinou Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten Elenion Aura Elenion Aura thebigfella thebigfella
 
Musai
CS Link
SCENE:
Mom Told You To Come Home Before it Gets Dark Because After The Sun Falls Good Things Happen
LOCATION:
Police Department, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Musai, Tak
Mom Told You To Come Home Before it Gets Dark Because After The Sun Falls Good Things Happen

Musai straightened up from the shadows, his one cherry-red iris flickering almost mischievously in the dim interrogation light. He cracked a half-smile and started, his voice smooth with a hint of mockery:

"Well, well, detective, you've certainly spun a good yarn with this whole accomplice angle. Let me enlighten you with the truth, though it's a bit more colorful than your drab version. Imagine this—I was just moseying down the street, right? Mindin' my own, as they say. Next thing I know, I'm being swooped up like I'm the last piece of cake at a birthday party. And Tik-Tak here?" He nodded sarcastically towards his alleged co-conspirator. "I hadn't even seen his mug before you decided to throw us in this cozy little rendezvous."

He leaned back, his chains clinking melodiously. "Now, I understand, you’ve got this whole 'evidence' thing. But let me paint you a picture—maybe it’s one of those mistaken identity capers. I mean, look at me," he gestured to his unconventional attire and his rugged features, "I'm practically a walking art exhibit. Perhaps your so-called witnesses caught a glimpse of this spectacular visage and just got overwhelmed."

Musai’s voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "And between you and me, detective, we both know the streets are brimming with tales taller than the buildings. Maybe someone's spinning stories to get a slice of whatever pie they think is being baked up from catching a notorious character like myself."

He tapped his temple with a finger, "Think about it—why would a tactician like me, known for strategic genius and flamboyant escapes, bungle into a common theft? Doesn’t add up, does it? Unless, of course, you're suggesting there’s a grander scheme—a performance, a test of skill, an audition in the grand play of the underworld, directed by none other than fate itself."

Musai's smile widened, "So, detective, perhaps we’re both pawns in a much larger game. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on the board, because you never know when the kings and queens will make their move."

He settled back, the light casting long shadows as he concluded, "And that, my good sir, is my version—more thrilling, definitely more stylish, and absolutely more plausible than whatever dry toast of a story you're buttering up."

Musai's demeanor suggested that, despite the gravity of the situation, he found a certain amusement in turning the interrogation into a dramatic monologue, showcasing not just his innocence but his flair for the theatrical. And that he simply refused to snitch.

thebigfella thebigfella
 
VULKEN BECKMAN
CS Link
SCENE:
Snuffed Out
LOCATION:
Great Oak Apartments, South District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3: January 16th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Vulken, Boltius
CURRENT STAGE:
0 (Current Temp: 0°F | 0°C )
SNUFFED OUT

“Yeah, uh-huh. We’re outside right now. Didn’t I tell you we’ve got it under fuckin’ control? In and out, as long as this guy doesn’t give us any trouble.”

Vulken’s gaze was fixed on the building his younger brother had parked outside of as he spoke to the strict board member through his cell phone. It was unfortunately one of those conversations where the speaker on the other end was so loud that their words could be heard with or without the speakerphone enabled. With a glance anybody would be able to deduce that the veteran’s temper was clearly being tested, as made clear by the crink in his eyebrows and the tone of his voice growing increasingly more attitude-filled with every word.

“Alriiight, for fucks sake,” Vulken groaned, signaling for his brother to unlock the vehicles doors and step out, which he did without argument, thankfully. “Yeah, he’s the guy’s friend. He cleans for us– I fuckin’ get it. I’m gonna go get your stupid bread now. Bye.”

“Christ,” With a tap, the phone call was finally fucking over. “Between that old bastard and your stupid fuckin’ music, I’m surprised I made it here alive.”

He gave his brother a playful shove as they approached the apartment building. An awning protecting the entrance from the snowfall that had been plaguing the district for the past few days read GREAT OAK APARTMENTS in a cozy font, and after glancing at it, Vulken knew they were at the right spot.

“Alright, little brother,” He began, reaching over in an attempt to ruffle Boltius’ hair without looking at him. “Our guy– his name’s Grisha Morozov. Ruthenian guy. He’s good friends with a friend ‘a ours named Maxim. Runs a buncha fronts that get the gang a lotta clean cash. Really important associate ‘a ours, get me?”

He pulled the door to the complex open, leading Boltius inside and hitting off any snow that had gotten stuck to his jacket on the way in. His eyes glanced over to a nearby elevator, and he quickly pressed the ‘up’ button to call it to them before continuing his briefing.

“Apparently the guy’s been gettin’ pissy with collectors lately– Threatenin’ ‘ta get this guy Maxim ‘ta pull out of our business if we don’t stop taxin’ him. So the board figured they oughta heat shit up. Heh.”

He looked over to his brother with a relaxed smirk. “Shouldn’t take us too long. Let’s just hope he’ll realize we’re serious and hand the fuckin’ money over. Guy’s supposedly been drunk the past five times they’ve stopped by, so if push comes ta shove we'll just take the money ourselves and leave. S'not like he'll remember we were even there after an hour or two passes”

As Vulken explained the situation, the doors to the elevator whooshed open, inviting both of them inside to ride it up to the fifth floor, where they stepped out and made their way towards the apartment number their contact provided them with.

“There he is– room 509.” Vulken yawned, pointing at the door with the corresponding brass numbers affixed onto it. “Give it a knock, pipsqueak. Maybe I’ll let you do all the talkin’ and see how funny this shit gets.”

Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean
 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
They Tell You Not To Mix Chemicals Because You Can Make Mustard Gas, But Nobody
Tells You How Mixing People Makes Something More Deadly
LOCATION:
North District
DATE:
July 18th, 2022 | | Post-Outbreak
PARTICIPANTS:
Nao @tityanya, Takakazu
They Tell You Not To Mix Chemicals Because You Can Make Mustard Gas, But Nobody Tells You How Mixing People Makes Something More Deadly

“Well, it depends,” Tak genuinely considered the question, a purse of his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, following her outside. The crisp night air tickled his face, the fading sounds of the party in the background, then muffled as the door closed. His shoes clicked against the cement steps as he let his hand fall to his side. “If you like your stuff spicy, they have the Murgh Kari, but if you want something different, their Laal Maas is pretty damn good,” Tak spoke off the menu from the top of his head. It was clear he had been to the place many times and knew of it well; there was even a notable glint of his eyes as he spoke and, faintly, the smallest sprouts of a smile upon his expression.

He could still vividly remember each of the curries, the burn on his tongue when he had tried the Murgh Kari when he was left coughing and crying for hours, and the Laal Maas, which was so strange to him that he sat there and stared at it for six hours before finally being brave enough to take a bite.

No matter what, it was always good. He always wondered why that was.

“It’s made with love, that’s why, young man.”

A gentle and hoarse voice, the grit of age tugging at vocal chords. It was vivid in the back of his head, and his eyes closed to visualize it in the void. Rugged hands, arms coated in graying hairs and moles, moved across a cutting board and then bounced towards a bubbling pot, its contents of colorful fruits and speckles of spices and herbs. An apron over his chest, the symbol of the rising sun across it.

“That’s what my mom always says too,” another voice, young, innocent--more aptly, unaware. Messy black hair, so unkempt that his face was hidden underneath it, ragged clothes, a dirtied white shirt, and cargo shorts, sat upon a stool, the only furniture within the surrounding white void of memory. The edges of what were recalled faded into nothingness, like a painting that was robbed of its color. He rested his head head on the counter as he watched the man work, “I don’t know what that means. Not like somethin’ tastes good just because of that…” He mumbled in frustration, feeling like the adults kept secrets from him like they always did.

“Hoh, but it does! Tell me, young man, does your mother cook?” The chef asked as he took a ladle and dropped it into the pot, stirring it. His figure blurred as the focus narrowed onto the ramshackle runt. “Yeah,” the kid weakly replied, his nails scratching against the chipped wooden counter.

“And that food is always delicious, isn’t it?” The older man continued, he didn’t even need to look back to know the boy nodded, “Why do you think that is? It’s because your mother loves you that she makes sure it’s delicious! When she thinks of your happy face, Mother knows she has to make it the best she can,” he explained, picking up a bowl with the clatter of porcelain, then the splash of liquid hitting the bowl.

“It’s the same with me, young man.” He stepped over towards the boy, and slowly, the kid raised his head, looking upwards as a steaming bowl made of green and white patterns was put in front of him. Steam floated from the top of it. The boy peered into its contents, taking a curious sniff.

The rugged hands picked up a rag and began to wipe his hands with it, “Just like her, I cannot bear to see you come into my home without a smile. And so, I encourage you in the only way this old man knows how.”


The runt grabbed a nearby spoon, and with a faint blink, he dipped it in, lifting it out. It was bright red, topped with cilantro, joined with rice, and filled with love.

He took a bite.


….

Tak had found himself going quiet, looking up at the stars, his hands in his pockets as he let the wind and time flow by him. He hadn’t even realized how long he had been standing there until he realized Nao was looking at him. He matched her gaze for a moment before uncharacteristically averting his eyes.

“Rogan Josh,” Tak said vaguely before finally looking back at Nao again and returning to his deadpan look.

“I recommend that. Shit's yummy. Heard the secret ingredient is love.”

 
ALICE
CS Link
SCENE:
Two Can Cross the Threshold
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Alice, Charlie
Two Can Cross the Threshold
Charlie was met with silence. The head figures of the gang watched him with a scrutinizing gaze. Hushed whispers circled the room.

"He has to be lying. We're in danger if we don't take care of him."

"Maybe. Also, that's a she."

"No, no, do you see his—?"

"This isn't important. Did you hear what he said? Someone told him she was here. Someone knows about us."

"And he's following their orders to chase her down..."

Mr. Hat cleared his throat. "Everyone, please calm down." He knelt at Alice's height, and in his soft, familiar voice, he asked, "He's your friend, Alice?"

Her cheeks glowed a bright red. "Yes... a friend..."

"Do you trust him?"

Alice nodded.

She couldn't tell behind his mask, but she knew Janay smiled. "I'm glad... At least someone treated you well. More so that someone as kind as he isn't naively selling you out."

Alice giggled. "Charlie is... I'm very grateful for him..."

Janay rose. "After the mall, the Tigers put me through the worst that humanity offered. I nearly died down there. But what kept me going was you. I was on the right path, and I still am. We are going to rescue you, Alice—take you away from this hellish place, New Oasis."

Her eye widened. "But... I...."

"I know it's a lot to take in. But I learned a lot from last time. We're giving you the life you always deserved, Alice, and we need to move quickly." He snatched her arm suddenly, earning a yelp from the girl. "Come along. I'm finishing this."

"But, there's so much I—!"

"Be quiet, please." Alice shut her mouth, surprised to hear a command leave Janay's mouth. But oddly enough, it didn't look like he meant it for her.

Janay took her behind another pair of doors, followed by several of the White Rabbits. Only four NP Rabbits and Dormouse remained. One by one, the NPs stood, knives brandished.

Behind Charlie, Dormouse said, "Nothing personal, kid," and tried to thrust her butterfly knife into his backside.

Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
L#af ###liams N#####
Scene:
### ##d.
Time:
July ##, 2#38?
Location:
##### C#ntr#l District
Participants:
Lea##, ########
Augur Of Crows


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The world lay in ruins, every which way he looked.

When he was left there in the rubble and ashes, knelt with his bare throat slit and his stomach pierced, he wasn’t mindful of the pain. Not a thought of his death, not a panic. No, he sat there, knees dug onto sharp gravel, thinking of the amount of time and effort he and his grandfather would put into trying to break into the old attic, back when he was still at Sunday School and the entrance to it was jammed.

The ladder was missing, there was no latch to pull at. They’d push tables and nightstands against a wall, stack up some chairs, balance themselves on them and take turns whenever they busted their asses on the floor. They never managed to open it.

Years after years, when he was twenty, growing into a wagie, he’d gotten to open that attic door they dreaded by himself. Much like many things in life, at the end, it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. On the other side there were only hipped walls, strewn fiberboard, a hand-count of dead roaches and a bunch of rat shit. It was disappointing.

He couldn't stop thinking of how disappointed, too, his grandfather would've been.

There was no pain. Not the one he’d hoped for. Just a gushing warmth and a floaty, drifting sensation starting to spread across his fingers, driving up the arms. Not a feeling.

His eyes would drift above at the broken skies of lower central, puffs of dark smoke waving up unto the air, the fire still roaring. Hoping, for a feeling writ in the night sky. The same his grandfather would tell him about. About the red stars splashed wide across the cosmos, telling little Leaf that his grandmother— the one who’d given him that flame-red, passionate hair of his— would be there in those stars watching.

Sprawling, glittering— watching over him. Even as high in the hill of rubble and chaos he’d made of the central district, he couldn’t see even the faintest sheen of a red star shining through the thick smog. Not one.

After years of fight, of struggle, of war— even with the burning ache of memory still vivid in his mind, and their compulsory, accusatory pull. At his final moments… Leaf Williams Natali didn’t feel a thing. Not for himself. Not for the memory of his grandfather. Not for the brothers and sisters he’s lost, not for his mentors. No.

There was only disappointment.

None of this meant a thing.

Not this world.

Not even the myriads of times and worlds beyond his grasp.

It was as foretold by himself, at the very end of things. Old-folk tale, things such as fate and destiny, what is written. Those things can’t be changed by a mere man. Not even by kings, not by victors.

At the end of things, no matter how hard he tries, Leaf dies.

The book would snap closed, and his pages—writ in fresh blood, in a hurried mess— would only clot together into a red-white clump of wet paper. Left to coagulate. Dry. The story would end, as dull and bloody and pointless as it began. Never to be re-opened again.

It was funny.

He just wouldn’t have it.

He wouldn’t die a memory of the future.



Leaf W. Natali
Scene:
Bedlam Blitz!
Location:
Whitepeak South District - Behind ATV store
Time:
Post-Arc 3 — July 10th, 2021; Early morning
Participants:
Boltius, Hector, Milo, Raquel, Leaf, Zach
Bedlam Blitz!
Leaf opened his eyes to the pounding of his own heart, gasping for breath. Hands instinctively wanting to move to his throat, to the pit of his stomach, to rub at that phantom pain he felt. Nothing moved. Something kept his hands tight, locked to his back.

He sat there, chest heaving. Catching his breath slowly, making sense of that feeling of deja-vu. Of that warped, out of place memory knifed to his mind. Something pre-written. Something that didn’t, shouldn’t exist. Just the thought of it made him sweat bullets.

Whenever he dreamt of that man, the one that sat broken in the fires of the central district, the sight was always colorless, blur-edged, like a faded photograph. This time… it was clear. Clear as day. Too much feature. Too vivid.

Leaf didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on that dream. Not now.

He rocked in his seat, his slump body coming awake— the harsh, thick rope wrapped around him and the chair shoving into his chest. Leaf bit down, stifled a groan. Coughing, throat stinging. A red-mane draped lifelessly over his gaze, and he searched the room wildly, flashes of memory coming and going in his mind, blurs of story racing down the same lane in his head.

The old man, he’d set them up. Coerced into it, he hoped. The gas knocked them asleep.

And now they were…

“Shit…” — He hissed, jaw tensing— frown-tracks spreading across his already gloomy face. He hadn’t a fucking clue. The one thing he knew is that the rest of the group was there in the room with him, or, barely-there rather. Likely as dazed as he was, some of them behind him, some at his sides. He was facing a wall, tied up to a chair. Leaf fidgeted with the restraints for a bit, trying to force the arms forward to his lap. Not a thing budged.

Something flared inside his chest. It wasn’t a pretty, butterflies-y feeling either. It was ravenous. He felt like a trapped coyote looking to bite off its own leg.

He threw an eye over a shoulder, glaring at the man sat across from them.

He eyeballed him where he sat for four, five long seconds.

It was a look of flame-red condemnation. Blood-curling disgust, tempered defiance. And hot-headed anger. It told of an unspoken message, carried on a tongue spoken all across the blue earth. One that might’ve been engrained from man to man since the very stone ages, burnt right into their cerebral cortex, branded onto the very skin of their nerves: ‘You better kill me before I get my hands on you.’

He turned to Boltius, at the man’s side. Those same, wrathful eyes turning sullen. The rookie phoenix’s face overcome with a nasty mix of confusion and dread, scrunching up ugly.

“Bolt…” — He growled, voice still raspy and weak from the daze — “What the fuck are you doing, man…?”



Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean Elenion Aura Elenion Aura WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten Misuteeku Misuteeku
 
Last edited:
TEDDIE TUCKER
CS Link
SCENE:
Friends Who Slay Together Stay Together
LOCATION:
The Tucker's House, North District Outskirts
TIME:
Post Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Celeste, Teddie
FRIENDS WHO SLAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER

Eliza hopped back from the man’s arm as Celeste went in with her blade. She swayed as she lifted one boot up, trying to catch a glimpse of any branding for Celeste.

“Hmm, I dunno about these stomping boots, Celeste. They don’t make ‘em like they used to” As she put her foot down, something came to mind, and she raised a finger up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I got it now. It was from back when I was working on the streets. ‘Nother lady had a problem with a client, one thing led to another and I got some free boots out of it!”

She looked thoughtful for a moment as she watched Celeste’s handiwork.

“Guess that don’t help you so much. Hey, you can have his shoes, can’t she, Teddie?”

Teddie didn’t answer, engrossed with the skinning. They knelt down, and peeled one of their gloves away, immediately exposing the vicinity to a wave of pungent tar. The glove, which seemed to have never been washed judging by the layers of residue within, fell to the ground, leaking the bit of tar that came with it onto the floor. Teddie flexed his hand out, pure black, bubbling with heat, and unnaturally stretchy. He reached towards the skin that hung off of the man’s arm.

“Oh this is perfect. This is perfect.”

The man had continued screaming, but it died down by now, to whimpering, delirious murmurs, to a final groan as he lost any will to protest his situation. His eyes didn’t focus anymore, even when his own skin was held up in front of them. Teddie cackled, and the skin had already started to burn and crisp up. He pulled back from the man, and slowly, methodically, scrunched up the skin into a ball, and melted it against his arm.

“I’ll be saving this for later.”

The skin absorbed into his tar with little resistance, apart from a bit more bubbling that didn’t seem to bother the Serpent in the least.

“Thank you for the wonderful treat.”

Teddie picked his glove back up, putting it on with a wink like he had just concealed some sort of secret. Then, he looked back at the exposed flesh, in awe once more. Infatuated by it.

“But forgive me, I’m hungry now.”

In an instant, he’d dropped back to the ground, licking tar across his tar lips. He lunged for the arm, taking a bite out of him. This put some life into the body again. It was unlikely there was a conscious effort anymore, but his arm spasmed and thrashed against Teddie’s face, burning as it brushed against more of the hot tar.

“Teddie! We were gonna carve that up. It ain’t gonna look pretty anymore.”

Teddie pulled back, mouthful of flesh and boiling blood.

“Go ahead!” He said, voice muffled.
 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
Young Blood
TIME:
Post Outbreak || July 21, 2022
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie, Musai
Young Blood
"Hmm... all things considered these are just petty thefts." Hitoshi mused aloud, "We might not even need to chase anyone if it comes down to it. Our presence might just scare them off." The truth was Hitoshi's cardio was a work in progress, which meant that any prolonged chase was more likely to have him on his knees panting than it was to catch the troublemaker in question. But, of course, there was also the intention of non-violence that was just as true: "I'd prefer we didn't make a mess of things, y'know?"

He then turned to Charlie: "We'll figure out the identity of our mystery hooligan soon enough." Hitoshi said with a grin before tapping the table rhythmically which was followed by him quickly getting out. "Alright, we're burning time! One of the stores in question is literally two blocks down." Hitoshi beckoned both Charlie and Musai along with the wave of his hand, leading them to their nearby destination. Various pawnshops and cheap tourist traps lined the street, with people flocking more towards the former; ever since both the earthquake and the subsequent chaos in Central, people have been desperate to sell valuables for emergency cash while others swooped in for cheap valuables for the taking.

City authorities were still scrambling to get reconstruction efforts underway around the entire city, as many buildings in the South had also faced varying degrees of damages, which in turn left a lot of vulnerable people unable to deal with the burden. Desperation was always a powerful driving force, which made Hitoshi grimace. "Wonder when things'll get better." Hitoshi wondered aloud, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

The convenience store, Kwik'n'Ez, appeared before the trio with its beckoning neon sign and advertismenets of 24/7 service. Various posters of cookie and chip brands lined the windows to indicate the types of unhealthy foods sold within. The building that it was situated in had escaped the majority of the damage from the rumbles and aftershocks, save for a few exterior cracks, and the inside remained immaculate as Hitoshi stepped inside. The AC was on a cool blast to offer reprieve from the summer heat, leaving Hitoshi to take a deep breath and savor the amenities.

"Can I help you?" the cashier - a middle aged woman with medium black hair - asked.

"Oh, yeah, uh..." Hitoshi managed to get out as he broke out of his trance and sauntered his way over to her. "We're here to deal with the 'problem' that's been plauging you."

"...problem?" the woman then asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, y'know... the thieving?"

The women blinked twice out of confusion before her expression changed: "Oh... right. I don't deal with you lot up front that often... I just send my protection money through a courier to you."


Roda the Red Roda the Red Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters-
 
ERIC EVENSEN
CS Link
SCENE:
Bitter Aftertaste
LOCATION:
The Cerulean Orchid, South District
TIME:
Nighttime, Post Arc 3 June 7th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Callista, Eric
Bitter Aftertaste
The man glanced over his shoulder, staring nonchalantly at the progressive shift in mood surrounding the pair. "Hm, gotta give it ya, Rose, I think see I were you're coming from" He certainly dug the new atmosphere, the lack of people as well as the slower music were something the detective could get behind. "I happen to like being able to hear whatever the person next to me wants to say."

The woman came forward with a relatively unexpected question, Eric's eyes shifting to look at the half-empty glass hanging from his lazily-gripping fingers. "Aye, suppose I do." Unfortunately, breaking the stigma of a police officer not being obsessed with his caffeine was out of the detective's grasp. Not only was he saved by the constant rush of caffeine, back in the days where he had to juggle his work as a rookie, as well as his academic efforts when studying criminology. He had also grown quite fond of the rich, deep notes of the beverage, it mixed quite nicely with alcohol as well, to boot.

"Is that so? Surprise me, then" He responded, just a moment away from downing his own drink, barely even feeling the burning sensation going down his throat.

To be frank, the man had no previous experience with the drinks that slid the pair's way. He focused on both, judging their contents through looks alone, sure he could have kept an eye on what the bartender used, but that took away the fun of the surprise, seemed like that's how the gal wanted it.

"Alright, I'll bite." He looked back at Rose, the muscles on his face refusing to show any sort of emotion as usual. Without bothering much about making much of a choice, his digits latched onto the shot of mudslide. He held the small glass up, directed at the young woman.

"To us, the sore thumbs!" He chanted right before downing the drink, hopefully at the same time as her. "Hm, pretty good, actually." The thick base of the now empty glass clicked against the hard wooden surface of the counter, the aftertaste was very much present, the coffee flavor pairing up perfectly with the vodka. "You sure know your drinks, don't you? I tend to be lazy and stick to beer when I'm with friends. I'm starting to worry they might think I'm uncool, and I have appearances to keep up."


Wxnter Wxnter
 
Gideon Gray
CS Link
SCENE:
We Who Remain
LOCATION:
South district, Phoenix HQ; Shady's Clinic, first floor
TIME:
May 31st, 2022 | Post-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Milo, Gideon, Boltius, a big list of other people
We Who Remain
"Hm," Gideon grumbled. It wasn't a typical short-tempered grumble, but more of an uncomfortable one, where Gideon was trying to acknowledge Milo's words without actually acknowledging them. It didn't get the effect that he wanted, so Gideon, rather flatly, said "Fine."

This didn't feel good. It didn't feel good to make Milo into a temporary ally of sorts, or someone who owed Gideon. The two of them co-existed, not enemies, but as far away from being friends as possible.

Gideon couldn't wiggle out of answering Bolt's question though. The villain's mouth opened to try to form words to explain what happened, but they eluded him. How was he supposed to tell Bolt that his gangmate was the cause of most of his injuries? Gideon had fallen asleep to the sound of the sounds of the procedures being done on Bolt. Besides Gideon's guilt, there was also the risk that Gideon would be punished for harming a Phoenix higher-up. Maybe he could lie his way out?

"I'm not quite sure either," Gideon said. But the lie tasted bitter on his tongue, making him immediately backtrack, "No, wait, that's not true. It was my fault. I used my bombs to cushion our fall."

Gideon hobbled to a corner of the examination room where they were in, and when he opened one of the cabinets, he was delightfully surprised to find a bottle of extra strength acetaminophen. It was the shitty off-brand kind, but there probably wasn't any difference. Gideon opened it and poured one of the capsules into his mouth.

"I think I might've heard some of the others when we came in," Gideon said. He was just as worried about his friends as Bolt was, but in the moment, when Gideon had to push through the agony of carrying a stretcher with a broken arm and a leg, details such as who was around him got lost. Feeling like he needed to say it before he potentially got executed by Bolt (or Milo by proxy), Gideon said, "But even if some of us didn't make it, don't you dare feel bad. We chose to come. We knew the risks."

Hah. It was funny. Unconscious lies didn't taste as bitter as intentional lies. There was no way that Gideon knew about the 'risks.' He was far too engrossed with the fantasy of being a perfect villain. When dealing with those... monstrosities was the first time he truly felt nothing but paralyzing fear. And yesterday was the first time Gideon had to endure such unbearable pain.

Gideon slowly hobbled back to Bolt's bed, and shifting all his weight onto his other foot, Gideon picked out an acetaminophen pill and raised it to Bolt's mouth, offering to feed it to him.

Elenion Aura Elenion Aura Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean
Wxnter Wxnter Misuteeku Misuteeku Lucem Lucem
 
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HECTOR MOSES
CS Link
SCENE:
Torment Builds Character, Right?
LOCATION:
On da road
PARTICIPANTS:
Gideon, Hector
TORMENT BUILDS CHARACTER, RIGHT?

“Just negotiations? I mean, yeah, it is, but you better be taking our business more seriously than that. What’d you think I needed you for anyway?” Hector scoffed as he sped through the streets. ”You don’t look like you’ve worked out a day in your life.”

”I know a couple guys who could use some help thinking more. Maybe you could whip some of the rookies into shape…” Hector’s voice trailed off. Huh? He looked to the side. He looked forward again. He knew these streets like the back of his hand, but did he miss a…

"Small things like making people think they missed their turn,"

It clicked in an instant. The car came to a stop, the vehicles behind braking just in time to avoid an accident.

”You!”

Hector lunged to the back seat, hands first ready to throttle Gideon. How dare he! How fucking dare he!! To hell with the meeting, he oughta make an example of this fool right here and now. That’ll teach everyone not to get in his head.

Landing clumsily on top of him, shaking the vehicle, he tightened his hands around his throat for a moment, before pausing. He remained there for a moment, before letting go, and breaking out into laughter.

”That was a good one, Gideon. You’re funny! You’re a joker! And that’s the shit I need you to do when we get there, but y’know,”

Hector rolled off of Gideon, opening the door to return to his own seat like nothing had happened. As soon as the door cracked open, he was met with a wave of beeps from the driver behind.

”SHUT UP!”

Hector screamed back at the car, forming a blade and firing it through the windshield at the same time. Without looking back to see the damage, Hector returned to his seat, and the vehicle roared to life again. They kept going.

”You shouldn’t do that to me again.” Hector spoke, suddenly cheery as he adjusted the rear-view mirror, which was knocked askew during Hector’s brief frenzy/ ”It’s great though, I’m surprised I haven’t heard better things about you. I mean, you’re still working in a coffee shop? So much wasted potential, so what’s up? What’s your story?”
 
SEBASTIAN SE
CS Link
SCENE:
Bumming a Light
LOCATION:
Sebastian's Apartment, Central District
TIME:
November 2020 | Pre-Arc 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Sebastian, Oliver
BUMMING A LIGHT
The cold sunset breeze tickled Sebastian's nape as he stood at the railing of his apartment balcony, drink in hand. It was November now, almost at the holiday season, and the weather had become rather brisk. Sebastian had to wear his windbreaker to enjoy his drink with a view of the city beneath him. That being said, the cold weather did mean that the ice in Sebastian's glass of scotch wasn't going to melt as quickly.

Sebastian took a sip, relishing the floral and spicy notes as he leaned against the railing. This was probably the last night for the next week or two that he could relax. The prosecutor's office had received a new, rather high profile case. Rumor had it, the accused was also a member of the Albino Tigers. So the next few weeks were going to be hectic. Sebastian, as someone who was close to the police precinct, was likely going to be preparing the detectives and some of the officers to be witnesses.

Staring down the distance from his apartment to the ground, Sebastian spied a blond haired man walking down the street. There was a cute naivety in the way that he carried himself, as if he was invincible and couldn't be hurt. The serial killer hid his wolfish leer behind the ice in his glass, "How adorable."

Tonight was not the night for killing, but down the line, Sebastian was going to take his stress out by prowling the streets. But if only he realized that on this night in particular, it was he who was the one being hunted.

Kwayzar Kwayzar
 
MILO NAGISA
CS Link
SCENE:
Blank Canvas
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3: September 30th, 2021 - 11pm
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Milo, Hector
BLANK CANVAS
You have no idea, Milo thought but didn't say. Better if he didn't know just how much Milo planned for. Better that no one did. Ignorance was bliss, or so the saying went.

"I'd rather not fight anyone," he said to be pedantic for Hector's sake. Milo knew what Hector meant. Milo also knew that fighting was part of the job. Knew that fights would find him whether he wished them to or not. Even so, Milo often felt the need to remind himself, This is what you signed up for. He perked up at the mention of leadership. Milo wanted to pry, but didn't... Much, anyway.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown?" Milo asked in a voice that wasn't sympathy, but approximated it. Even now he struggled to see the man before him as a person. It was hard to separate the man from the mission. Made harder still by the fact that Milo didn't want to, lest he forget the endgame. No. He couldn't afford to lose sight of the forest for the trees. Remember what they took from you.

The hand on his back almost made him flinch. It took a concerted effort of control to tamp down the instinct, to relax, to not let him see you for what you are. Afraid. "Sure," he replied robotically, slipping loose his sketchbook and pen. He laid his implements out on the ground and got to work, huddled on all fours. He loomed over his canvas as he drew a quick, efficient sketch of a knife. Black leather handle. Damask steel blade. Fine edges and wicked curves.

He reached for it. It came free of the parchment without resistance. He rose up on one knee and extended the blade, pommel first, for Hector to inspect. Meanwhile, a car rolled into the lot behind them and idled there.

 
HECTOR MOSES
CS Link
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Musai, Yong-Yut, Hitoshi, Helva, Bolt, Hector, Milo, Pei
NEW PHOENIX GOLDEN AGE

Damn.

It wasn’t quite the warm reception he was expecting, more like a family gathering with all the aunts and uncles you never got to see. The ones who claimed you grew so much, with nothing else to comment on. It wasn’t awful though, nobody seemed to actively hate being there, and many of the group elders politely mumbled their answers back to him. There were smiles, but they were all expecting something more than small talk.

Was the news already out? He’d been careful not to explicitly tell anyone he was promoting himself, but I guess people had been waiting for a leader for a while. Thankfully Hitoshi was there to break the ice.

”Pizza? Good shout. I’ll call Tony, see if he can hook us up for lunch, after this of course. I don’t wanna make a mess of my new outfit.” He walked to the edge of the stage, squatting down to reduce the height difference from his elevated position. Thankfully his new suit barely inhibited his movement - of course he had to thank Yong-Yut again for their great work. ”You doing okay, Hitoshi? Been a bit since we got to catch up.”

It had been recent enough, but the memory was tarnished with shame. He hoped it wasn’t being held against him, the way he acted at their last meet-up, but it seemed that Hector was the only one harbouring any negative feelings.

”Gimme a time and date, and I promise it’s yours… Maybe, we’ll have to see how things go?”

”Something got you busier than usual then, Moses?” A woman near the stage piped up, a twinkle in her eye.

”You know how things are. There’s also something to do.”
 
CHARLIE HUGHES
CS Link
SCENE:
Two Can Cross the Threshold
TIME:
Post-Outbreak, Late July 2022
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Alice
Two Can Cross the Threshold
The person standing in front of Alice, his visage resulted vaguely familiar, albeit its new scarred condition made the memories all the more vague...But in time, a file was found, also relating from the incident from almost a year ago. That man was by Alice's side, wasn't he? He tried to protect her fromt he rabbits...Then how come he was with them now? His words were kind and gentle, but that didn't help calming Charlie's overwhelming unease.

And such unease soon proved its legitimacy.

"Oi." He cut in, taking a firm step fowrward which made the ground under him tremble. "She doesn't want to go with you, let her go, now." His tone was demanding and aggressive, but in this domain, even his loudest shout would hold no authority in the slightest. "HEY, GET BACK HERE!"

As much as he wished to give chase. Armed goons stood in his way, armed and ready to strike. His eyes darted across the threatening figures, fists balling into iron grips. Dormouse thrust her knife at the boy's back, taking advantage of his seemingly passive stance, and thus steel met its mark. However, something felt off about the attack, as her knife refuse to sink any deeper beyond the point of barely breaking skin.

Charlie's hand reached behind him, grabbing a hold of the woman's wrist, his veins bulging with witheld ire. Pain surged through Dormouse's arm from the crushing weight, slowly being shoved upward despite her struggling. He turned his head slowly, amber eyes peeking into view like a morning sunrise.

"Outta my way." Herculean might lifted the woman off her feet, her supposed victim throwing her across the room like a flaining ragdoll and onto an adjacent wall, its surface creating a spiderweb of cracked concrete with a with a rumbling that could be felt all throughout the underground facility. The NPs hesitated for a moment, looking at each other before rushing all together to strike.

Charlie raised his arms, intercepting two of the coming blades with them, the other two manage to get past his defense and striking on more vulnerable areas, but for an NP, this was no different to trying to stab a boulder. Being perceptive of their middling force, the boy opted to strike back in a very reserved manner, delivering a series of palm strikes at their chests, pushing them back and knocking them off their balance.

"YOU WON'T DO WHAT YOU PLEASE WITH HER!" He shouted, breaking into a sprint towards the door the rabbits had taken her to.


AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa
 
RAPHAEL SHAW
CS Link
SCENE:
Carmine Consort
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 || 2017
LOCATION:
Peyton's Studio Apartment, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raphael, Peyton
CARMINE CONSORT
Raph felt a flicker of something stir in him at Peyton's words. Whatever that something was, it was mixed with an undeniable thrill. It wasn't just the permission that stirred him. It was the openness of it. No holds barred. Carte blanche. Whatever he wanted, he'd get. As it was. As it should always be.

It was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.

"You may come to regret saying that," Raph whispered and tilted his head, brushing his lips fleetingly against Peyton's ear. He felt his grip tighten.

Pulling back slightly, he grabbed Peyton's shoulders and spun him around so they were face-to-face, before shoving the smaller boy against the wall. He allowed his eyes to drift over Peyton's form, taking in the subtle signs that reminded him of the evening's chaos—the bruises, the slight tremors of adrenaline still coursing through muscles, the way his chest rose with each breath.

With deliberate slowness, Raph's fingers slithered up from Peyton's shoulders and found his neck. His hands clasped gently around that pale throat, pulling just enough to tilt Peyton's chin up to him. "Too late to take it back. ~"

The closeness was overwhelming; the heat of their bodies intertwined; their quickening hearts began to beat in time. Raph studied Peyton's face, eyes flicking down to his lips and back up to meet his gaze—an idea forming in the black pit of his mind.

Outside the rain fell like tears, pattering against the grime-stained windows as the second half of Raph's evening began.

 
ALLIANCE OF APEX CONVINIENCE.


Lorette Lècuyer. LINK
Scene: Alliance of Apex convinience.
Location: Brother's Krimm Restaurant, West District.
Participants: Lorette. Ryutaro.


"I must admit that those are some rather profound aspirations, Lord Hashimoto," Lorette said, setting aside her drink to stare at the man. They were digging in now, and the point of all pretense had long since passed.

Given their respective business backgrounds, it was no assumption that Ryutaro was banking on Lorette's interest in his scheme to pull her in before showing her the price tag. In accordance with protocol when conducting business and as a matter of respect towards the man seated across from her, Lorette immediately demanded to know just how much of the bill she was expected to be footing.

"What we stand to gain is indeed something worth fighting for; I won't deny that. A short-term struggle will yield long-term solutions. Anyone would be a fool to disagree."

Lorette's pupils dilated fully as she took in Ryutaro, a characteristic of her Potential. She was, after all, an apex predator. And to be caught in the woman's gaze was a fell thing indeed.

"Now, let's get to the nitty gritty. How much is this going to cost me?" She asked.

"Wars are not cheap, as I'm sure you know. And while my people are killers for hire, there's a difference between shooting rebels in a third-world country and shooting their own for what could potentially get them a fatter paycheck down the road?"

Her cold demeanor didn't give the impression that Lorette cared for anyone but herself. In most cases, that was true. Yet, she could never be faulted for the care she held for those who served under her. To lead others was a privilege. So was the power granted to one by those who acknowledged that leadership.

The old Tiger would not throw her people into the grinder for someone who could take matters into his own hands without her involvement.

Loyalty was rare and precious in the West District—more precious than any amount of money in the world. Lorette would not see what was gifted to her squandered for the sake of someone else.

"I'm sold on the idea, make no mistake. But what exactly can I expect to lose in this Rebellion of yours? I'll need to read the fine print before I sign anything."

Lorette gave Ryutaro a bare whisper of a smile.

"For that is the art of the deal, after all. Isn't it?"


joshuadim joshuadim










 
RAPHAEL SHAW
CS Link
SCENE:
Dissonant Ichors
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: December 21, 2020 -- Dusk
LOCATION:
Alleyway, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Darius, Raph
DISSONANT ICHORS
With a man like him, it was sometimes hard to tell what he was thinking. Not this time, though. This time, Raph’s thoughts were plain to see, as he stared down at Darius, sure that the other was thinking about making a run for it: Try it.

Raph watched Darius stumble to his feet, his expression a mixture of amusement and boredom. For whatever it’s worth, Raph thought with wicked delight. He’s not as dumb as he looks.

Running would have been a mistake.

“Oh, sure," a perpetually smirking Raph agreed, not letting Darius break their eye contact. “Right, right. Mission accomplished , and all that?" Raph smiled at Darius in a way that said he knew more than him. Which was true, in some ways. For one, he knew what was about to happen. Because he could see the mouth of the alley to which Darius had his back turned. And the monster that stood there.

7mFQGms.png

”Hrrrngh…” If Darius kept walking without watching he’d back right into it. The creature, as tall as the first story buildings that flanked the alley entrance, however, had other plans. It raised both clawed, bloodied hands and slammed them down toward Darius, its next victim.
 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
The Guy Who Wrote “Art Is In The Eye Of The Beholder” Probably Did It On The Toilet
LOCATION:
South District
DATE:
May 3rd, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Tak, Milo ( Elenion Aura Elenion Aura )
The Guy Who Wrote “Art Is In The Eye Of The Beholder” Probably Did It On The Toilet


There was a visible grimace on Kelsey’s face as he suddenly felt the weight of a man’s arm, and the uncomforting smell of what was akin to shoe leather hit his nostrils. His face scrunched, and a look of slight dejection as he looked to the side, away from Tak’s sly gaze. He sighed, “I’m not a cherry boy,” he weakly rebuked but didn’t bother putting up many fights against the man’s eccentric personality; after all, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Though Kelsey's expression visibly perked up in response to Milo’s question, Tak and the man willingly released his conjoined position with them as he casually stuck his hands back into his pocket, raising a brow towards the white-haired man.

“I was told by my teacher,” Kelsey didn’t hesitate to let the truth out, a sparkle in his eyes as he thought back on the moment, his hands girlishly clasped together, “Ms. Hillclad, she’s a great artist, have you ever heard of her? I’m her apprentice.” Kelsey proclaimed, placing a hand on his chest in a sudden spout of confidence as he looked between both of his fellow students

“Never heard of her,” Tak stated flatly, a pinkie in his nose spinning around within it as it squeaked like rubber. The response quickly took the wind out of Kelsey’s sails, leading the bluenette to drop his posture, dejectedly looking to the ground. “I don’t know why I expected you to…”

“Anyway,” Kelsey quickly bounced back, turning to Milo with his complete focus. "She’s the one who told me to put in a submission; she thought I could learn a lot from Barker,” Kelsey explained. Slowly, a hand reached up to grasp at his hair, pulling at his scalp as his eyes went bloodshot.

“I don’t even want to tell you how many nights I spent worrying about my submission; I barely got any sleep,” he recalled with evident anguish in his tone, the nights of restless struggles to sleep flashing before his eyes, internal screaming ringing through his ears.

With a shake of his head, he was back to his usual self, and with a tired gaze, he looked towards Tak, ramshackle looking man unapologetically having his hands in his pants as he scratched an itch on his ass, aimlessly staring forward as Kelsey continued to prattle on.

“I'd rather not ask, but what about you? How did you hear about it?” he wearily asked, placing a hand on the strap of his bag. Tak glanced briefly over his shoulder at Kelsey and Milo before looking back forward and toward the ceiling.

The perspective traveled upward until it was swallowed by the roof and put into darkness, but color returned as it kept moving until it reached cement, dying weeds, dried and off-yellow as they grew out from the cracks, flimsy petals hung limply. In the shadow of an alley, a dumpster kept it away from sunlight as the last of its life began filtering out.

The sound of a moving zipper across the teeth, and then wet droplets against the ground, a trail moved across the ground in a stream, leaving a path of damp stone in its wake, dousing the weed in golden liquid as it reached the target, the force of it causing the whole plant to be mushed against the ground.

“Phew, I thought I was bout to burst…” Said a voice, but by the familiar pair of dirtied shoes and wrinkled pants, the perpetrator wasn’t much of a mystery. There Tak stood, his lower half barely hidden by a trash can, as he let loose in an alley. His head looked towards heaven in relief, and the sounds of frying chicken echoed through the expanse.

“EXCUSE ME, SIR!” A sudden voice caused him to perk up. The brute turned his half-lidded eyes to see who was addressing him: a woman in blue, the bright yellow company logo embezzled on her chest. Her ponytail was kept underneath her matching cap as she looked at the man with both disgust and despair at her position.

“You can’t be pissing here.” She said flatly; all energy had already left her body.

“Shit, well, I’m almost done,” Tak stated, turning back to look down at himself as he quickly tried to shake the last drops out.

The woman’s despair quickly turned into frustration, a twitch in the corner of her mouth and her brows as her fists clenched, her neck craning down, and her whole body tightened in anger. “No, you need to stop before I call the cops.”

“Sorry, I haven’t done my kegels in a while. I can't just stop. Like I said, I’m almost done,” Tak replied calmly, jumping up and down as his zipper jangled, the sounds of splattering piss going everywhere as he moved.

He continued to look deadpan, but as a shadow dawned over his head, he looked upward, and immediately his eyes opened wide. The worker had lifted up a nearby crate, soggy and filled with paper trash, above her head, her teeth gritted as her eyes screamed of her killing intent, reeling her arms back before she tossed the whole box towards Tak with a ferocious scream.

Immediately, Tak felt the whole box slam into his body, knocking him clean off his feet. “GYAAUAUGH!” he screamed as he was sent sliding across the pavement until he crashed against the wall with a huge slam. Dust flew through the air, and so did papers.

As the smoke cleared, Tak lay with his back splayed against the ground until a single piece of paper fluttered through the air, becoming a black smudge that blocked his vision. He reached up to pull the flier off his face, and absentmindedly, he looked over what it said, his eyes opening slightly wider in recognition.

“Art…? Does that mean…Nude models?!”

The sudden rise caused whatever was left in the tank to fly through the air like a sprinkler.


..

In the present, Tak’s eyes had returned to look back over his shoulder, a neutral gaze in his lifeless eyes.

“I saw a commercial, I think,” he explained plainly, a slight sweat drop on his forehead, a faint shadow coming over his countenance. Upon hearing his quick explanation, Kelsey couldn’t help but sigh of relief, “I was expecting something crazy, knowing you.” Kelsey stated, a smile coming back to his face as he looked towards Milo, “What about you? How did you hear about this?”

Before the question could be answered, the sound of an opening door and the flash of light across this expression brought them all to look forward; from the atmospherically lit hallways, they stepped into another expansive open room within the mansion, a mix of Eastern and Western cultures melded together to form the architecture, golden dragon sculptures, and bonsais, joined by fleur-de-lis patterned linens that draped across the dressers.

The room was mostly empty besides the decor, and instead of housing anything, it had been repurposed. Five canvases were arranged in a circle, facing away from each other, with a stool in front of each.

“Now, let us begin with our first task I have for you,” Barker explained, turning to his students with a slight smile and a rub of his goatee, “If I am to teach you, I must first perceive how I can help you grow. So, I have this fun little game for you all to play,” he beckoned towards the canvas, “No prompts, no requirements. I just want you to draw. Whatever comes to mind, however, you want to. My maids will grab you whatever supplies we need; we have everything you can imagine in my abode, so please. Do as your heart sees fit.”

Kelsey swallowed heavily, and Kehiro eyed it with an interested lick of his lips. Meanwhile, Mina had already gone ahead and taken her seat.

Tak stood there for a long moment, his arms crossed as he walked over to sit on his own stool. His chin became pronounced as he suddenly took the position of “The Thinker,” examining the canvas with his prying eyes, trying to glean meaning from nothing.

Indeed, there was no thinking going on in that head of his.


 
MILO NAGISA
CS Link
SCENE:
Back in the Game
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, Timeskip 1 | July 5th
LOCATION:
Boustan
PARTICIPANTS:
Hitoshi, Charlie, Milo
BACK IN THE GAME

Milo shielded his eyes from the blazing inferno, the heat of it singeing the hem of his pants. He took several steps back and flourished his brush, bracing himself for the blast. The flame never reached him, however, as cool water rushed past him to meet it. A bewildered Milo stared at the newcomer, as though trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His mind quickly put aside the unimportant, finer details. They needed to address the matter at hand: there was a psychopathic pyromaniac on the loose, wreaking havoc in a densely populated metropolitan area.

Milo lowered his guard and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I'm with you. I have a plan."


Columns of fire were met with water, as the firefighter executed his role with aplomb. Milo rode the upward drafting wind currents on the back of a freshly painted falcon. The battle raging below looked like a canvas from this height. Something he might've painted in his younger years, when things like dichotomy still thrilled him. Now he knew better than to think that the world was neatly divided into two equal and diametrically opposed forces. There would always be more and more hands reaching for the steering wheel, trying to turn the ship toward their desired outcome.

Milo thought all this as the air whipped around him. The falcon strafed around the rising pillar of steam as the two elemental forces continued their deadlock. Someone had to keep those with nefarious desires in check. Tamp down their dark dreams so that others might thrive. Lop off the greedy, grasping hand before it can sink the ship.

Milo prepared his next move from the sky. They flew in a tight circle above the chaos, his bird's wings a blur of motion. Milo's fingers moved with practiced ease, the brush in his hand tracing the outline of his vision in the air. With each stroke, the lines began to glow, forming an almost solid structure.

His creation shimmered a deep obsidian, casting its long shadow on the ground below.

Timing would be everything. Milo waited, the wind buffeting him as he balanced, his eyes fixed on the molten maniac below. The villain, embroiled in his fiery duel with the firefighter, remained unaware of the threat from above. As the psychotic madman prepared to summon another explosive torrent of fire, Milo made his move.

With a powerful beat of its wings, the falcon dove, descending rapidly. As the pair approached, Milo placed the finishing touches on his piece, manifesting it wholly into the world of reality. The large, car-sized black dome released. It fell like a silent predator, swift and inevitable. The maniac looked up as the dome's shadow eclipsed the sun, his expression shifting from triump to shock, his flames sputtering as the trap fell into place with an earth-shaking thud.

The impact cracked the pavement, the translucent dome sealing with a hiss as it hit the ground, trapping the man inside. The flames that remained outside the barrier choked and died. Inside, the villain's fury turned to panic, his flames licking at the impervious walls of his prison.

Milo circled once, ensuring that the seal held, then landed beside the hydro-fighter, who was watching the trapped man with what Milo could only assume was a mixture of satisfaction and wariness. It was... Hard to tell.

"Can I leave him with you? I've got to go..!" Milo didn't wait long for a reply. He was back astride the flying mount within moments. Together they peeled back towards the zoo. Towards Hitoshi. Charlie. Elizabeth..!

 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth
LOCATION:
Blast Off DVDs, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Takakazu, Dante ( Haze- Haze- ), Minato ( Elenion Aura Elenion Aura )
Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

Tak’s next step forward already had the tip of his toes poised to make contact with the lasers, invisible to him in the dark, as time seemed to slow around his movement. The encroaching destination upon the bright red streak, the abrupt shift in his gravity came with a sharp impact against his face, the force enough to cause his body to recoil, leaving his legs and upper chest behind as his neck bent backward, the sharp slap rang through his skull, rattling his brain, and his whole body twitched, stiff as his hands were stuck in place, raised with only the slightest movements in his stunned silence.

“The hell WAS THAT FOR!?” Tak instantly exploded as soon as his breath found him again, reaching up and grabbing Dante’s wrist tightly, ripping it off his face, leaving a bright red mark upon his ivory skin as he glared towards the man in the darkness, teeth gritting against each other, “You tryin’ fuckin’ start somethin’?” Tak threatened, a clench of his fist indicating he was only minutes away from starting a brawl in the rental store, until Dante’s words finally made the connection in his brain, causing his face to scrunch in confusion, looking through the darkness with scrutiny.

“Lasers, what are you talkin’ about? I can’t see shit, it’s too dark. You’re probably just seeing things. That’s why your mom tells you not to watch TV before bed; you start thinkin' that dumb shit is real. There’s no monster in the closet, y’know?” Tak dismissed Dante’s worries, his eyes already looking through the dimly lit surroundings to find something he could recognize, “Now, where’s the damn light switch…” he cursed under his breath. His hand reached towards the nearby wall, dragging his fingers over it up and down until he finally made a purchase on the familiar feeling of smooth, surfaced plastic. “Bingo,” he remarked with a smirk, then placed his fingers on the switch.

A spark flashed blue within the darkness, the audible sound of a faint crackle in the ear like a popping kernel; there was only enough time for Tak to raise a brow and let out a “Huh?” before the spark erupted into full-blown electricity. It coursed through his whole body, basking him in a blue glow as it ran through his body, illuminating him like a glow stick. His bones were on display as if he was under an x-ray, his screams of pain coming out loud as his body was physically pushed off the ground from the electric force coursing through him, making him involuntary twist and contort as his muscles tense tight around the light switch.

Then, with a burst of smoke, Tak was sent flying through the air, rocketing in an arc until he slammed into a nearby shelf. It rocked backward, and from its shelf, many cases housing the discs toppled over, scattering off the ground, forming a pile around Tak as he lay against it. Faint sparks still coursed through his body, causing it to twitch; smoke came from his mouth, and his mangled hair stood high on end.

“Fuckin’ faulty electricity. What a cheap ass place,” Tak remarked in between hacking out ash from his singed lungs; with a grunt, he pulled himself up to his feet, using the shelf as a support.

But as his fingers brushed against the spine of a particular DVD, it retreated into the shelf, and audible clicks and whirrs echoed through the whole store. In the next second, compartments within the walls opened, upward sliding doors from mechanics, and from within the unknown darkness, rails, and gears turned and revealed a series of turret guns from each new hole in the wall, belts of ammo wrapped around each of them.


Tak blinked, looking between both sides of the walls as his expression visibly drooped.

“What the fu--.”

The barrels spun to life, and a whirring sound quickly followed the rapid-fire explosions. Each spark of igniting gunpowder caused a flash that enveloped the weaponry as they blasted bullets through the surroundings, enveloping Tak and Dante in a whole barrage of gunfire.

Tak’s body bent downwards, twisted to the side, jumped upward, dove to the floor, split his legs, whatever he could do to avoid the bullets, bending in inhuman ways as his ligaments seemed to bend like rubber, letting out fearful shouts the whole time as he bobbed and weaved.

Display glass shattered, bullets recoiled off the metal that adorned the structure and embedded in the ground, ceiling, and walls; the bullets embedded themselves in the windows (revealed to be bulletproof), causing shatters that traveled outward like craters.

After 15 seconds, but what felt like an hour, the empty click of the turret running out of bullets signified the end of the barrage, and quickly they retracted back into their compartments, the wall opening and closing like they were never there, the only sign of what just happened represented by the carnage, the bullets, and shells scattered throughout the surroundings.

Tak was doused in sweat. He used his arms against his legs to prevent himself from toppling over as he breathed heavily, smacking his lips as he felt the dryness of his mouth.

“Turrents? For fuckin’ DVDs!?” Tak finally blurted out, head snapping towards Dante so sharply it seemed like his neck had broken, “The fuck is this!?’

Tak clenched his fists, his teeth ground against each other, and the frenzy of realization dilated his pupils.

“Those bastards…they installed all this just so people couldn’t return their DVDs early and they could reap the late fees!? Those bastards!” Tak roared, a raised fist shaking in front of his face as a deepened scowl cast a shadow across half his face, “Well, I’ll show them. Ain’t nothin’ fuckinin’ stoppin’ me from not payin’ that 4.99, damnit!”

Tak took a step forward with his proclamation, and the tile pushed down against his feet.

“Oh damn, my shoe’s untied,” Tak stated and quickly knelt down to begin to tie it back into place.

Slots opened in the walls, mechanical latches bound together held spinning saw blades on the end reached out, slicing through the open walkways between the DVD aisles. One whirred above Tak’s head, and the sound mimicking a chainsaw echoed as it grazed past his scalp. The mystery of the damage was kept until Tak stood back up, revealing the whole midsection of his hair was shaved right off, leaving a massive bald streak going from his forehead to the back of his neck.

“Alright, let’s go return this DVD!”





Ignoring that’s what the worker had begun to do. Minato’s constant pressure and pestering hadn’t earned a reaction out of her, and she had grown tired of it to the point she didn’t even respond to him anymore as she made her way to her vehicle. She didn’t try to get rid of him as the pest seemed intent on following her wherever she went.

His questions received no answer, even if he was correct about her scooter. She gave him a glance in response, and against the bright colors, colorful, vibrant hues, and sparkling pupils, she gave a lifeless stare, her whole expression drab, bridging on black and white from the lack of contrast; the entire world seemed to lose its luster around her as she was faced with Minato’s “charm.”

“Yeah,” that was the only thing she gave in response to everything. It was as if she wasn’t even listening to him as she adjusted her cap and got back to walking. She looked forward to getting home, but it seemed like a troublesome night.

The sudden appearance of another, a knife against the flesh, and a threat. All of these would not have stopped her separately, but together, they made her pause. She glanced at the scene; the man who had been bothering her up to her point was suddenly in a life-or-death situation.

“...Heh.”

Upon her gloomy expression was a self-satisfied smirk.

Unfortunately, it was a short-lived pleasure. The approaching footsteps, the feeling of pressure against her back, and something sharp against her skin caused any joy she had at the situation to melt away in disgruntled complacency.

In response to the other assailant’s crazed shouts and frenzied demeanor, the worker hung limply in their grasp, not even putting up any of a fight, utterly relaxed despite the life-or-death situation, as if she was already dead, not to mention her skin was icy.

She stared at Minato, then she blinked and tilted her head slightly to look at the arm keeping her in place with its own weapon.

And then, she sighed. Casually, she shifted around to free enough of her arm to stick a hand in her pocket, a tiny bit of shuffling around before pulling out her wallet. Unceremoniously, she flipped it open.

From within, it flew out a fly, its soft buzzing echoing through the lot as she tipped the wallet over, letting lint and dirt fall onto the cement. There were no cards, no cash, hell, not even any coupons—just her work ID. In the picture, she looked just as lifeless as she did now.

“Sorry, I don’t have any money,” she said dryly, letting her wallet drop to the ground as she let go, looking back upwards to stare at her assailant.

“...Can I go now?”

In that instant, the sounds of muffled gunfire echoed through the lot.

There was an immediate change in the atmosphere; Cerberus felt it; what was once a cold body within their grasp that seemed ready to stroll down the Styx suddenly became flush with heat and the throbbing of a beating pulse.

Her hand, which formerly hung listless, reached up and grasped the hand on her shoulder. Without a second hesitation, she grasped the fingers, and with a clench of her fist, she mushed it all together in the black mush, which spurted and leaked between her fingers.


“I have to go check on the store.”

Her statement came as her body forced itself out of Cerberus's hold, the sharpness of the blade grazing across her neck. Crimson spurted forth and splashed across the ground, staining her pale features and store attire. Nevertheless, her frenzied gaze did not dissipate as she began to walk back towards the store, each step heavy, weighty, and unfeeling.

What the hell was she?




 
ERIC EVENSEN
CS Link
SCENE:
Homecoming
LOCATION:
Lower Central Ruins
TIME:
Post-Outbreak, July 22 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Eric, Justus, Inigo, Chikage
Homecoming
Whereas the streets of Lower Central had forever engrained themselves with a reputation of lackluster maintenance and support from the government, the cries of the land had turned, at least a significant portion of it, into a crumbled shadow of its own middling self. Such view inevitably pained Eric to a reasonable degree, to think of all the people that died, disappeared or got injured during the disaster, as well as those who had lost their homes in the process. And it only got even worse when the outbreak striked from the shadows

For a good while now, the detective had put a priority on the the unfortunately overlooked citizen of lower whenever the opportunity arose, and it just so happened that this was one of those opportunities, albeit a little bigger than usual.

"We should be close by now." He spoke to his partner beside him in a particularly dry tone (yet arguably only noticeable by advanced Eric scholars). Unlike his usual lazy handling of the wheel, the man helf both hands gripping tightly, eyes focusing on what was ahead. With streets as dilapidated as these, it took awareness and reflexes to constantly avoid the gaps on the pavement, as well as the myriad of chunks of debris lying around, a challenge that only grew tougher the closer they got to their destination.

"Remember that our priority is to rescue whatever civilians we can find" He felt the need to remind Inigo of their primary directive, not because he underestimated his good friend's memory, but because he understood the man's bloodthirst, and the blindness is sometimes brought along. "I'm sure you'll get plenty of chances to bash some faces in re-!" His final word was interrupted by a sizeable portion of a building's wall that had fallen on the street, forcing the man to take a drastic evasive maneuver to go around it, tires screeched against the pavement as the vehicle driftted, barely passing through a gap to the side.

"...Gardless." Trying to save some of his composed image, Eric's body relaxed, yet the vehicle soon found itself coming to a full stop, the rest of the way ahead too packed in rubble to go any further. The man sighed, fingers sliding off the wheel as his grasp yielded. He reached for the communicator on the dashboard, a bliping sound signaling him to speak as he pressed on the button, coming into direct contact with HQ. "This is Evensen, road ahead is completely obstructed, we will resume on foot." He didn't bother waiting for a response, time was of essence here.

Eric look behind him as he closed the car's door, the lights of the vehicle that stayed close behind them bathing the detective, something that would've earned an eye-squint from anyone other than the man that literally thrived on light. "Entrance should be just ahead." He turned back around, peering his head up to see through the wreckage. "Ah, got Hyde on sight, hmm" The man scracthed his chin in deep thought, eyes focusing on the distance frame of the senior.

"...Nope, that beard doesn't suit him at all."

thebigfella thebigfella simj26 simj26 Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters- Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean
 
Kisara McDowell
CS Link
SCENE:
Shifting Around The Side View Mirror Is Good Until You See Your Own Reflection
LOCATION:
East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Keith, Tak, Kisara
Shifting Around The Side View Mirror Is Good Until You See Your Own Reflection

Her left arm swatted the reflected beam away, sending it spiralling into the ground, gouging a scar into dirt. Focus. Push through the haze. The last shot bit into her energy reserves, but it beat expending it all on burning through it all just for her usual. No time to celebrate for coming up with a basic move. Focus on the next attack. Ladder. Followed by a stretched out attempt to dig into her guts.

Idiot. Moves like that were good on amateurs, those uninitiated with battle.

Or in this case, someone who was still recovering from a heavy injury. She deflected the ladder as easily as she did her beam, with a single swing of her arm. She brought her arms close to defend, only to be beset by a sharp pain in her abdomen. A red bloom blossomed across her shirt, and her stance faltered.

She grit her teeth, dove under, clenched her fist, and drove it upwards straight into the incoming attack. The rings around her arm blazed with violet energy, coalescing and delivering a singular explosion at the point of contact between her fist and the redhead's bladed arm, the force sending it flying over her shoulder, but not enough. The blades bit into her shoulder. Not too deep a cut, but enough to feel pain.

While this had been a little bit fun, she had to end this here and now. No more games.Whether he dies or not is not an issue.

She sucked in a deep breath, shifted her feet, drew her arms up in a defensive block, and charged in. Push through the haze. Focus.




thebigfella thebigfella Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
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