Millennium City: Nova - {Pocket D}

BarrenThin2

Senior Member
On the rare occasion that parts of this great city slept, all fell silent, an eerie quiet replacing the previously ever-present bustle of the city, though such noises could still be heard in the distance.

Such was the night you wandered down the street, in search of a club you'd heard tell of. After all, a place to get food, entertainment, and rest certainly couldn't go amiss. The cold streets of Millennium City were awash with rain, the quiet drizzle pattering across the sidewalk and the windshields of nearby cars, the steady noise quietly filling the silence of the night on one of the quieter streets of Millennium City. Around you, stores ranging from modest to practically plated in gold rose up towards the sky, some towering many stories up before finally coming to a stop. Most of them were closed, and those that weren't probably would soon. Still, you walked on, searching for this place to put your feet up and just stop for a bit.

Eventually, a noise caught your ear. The not-too-far-off sound of music. It was muffled and hard to make out, but perhaps some of you could recognize it; the smooth tones of the saxophone. Moving closer, believing you had found your mark, you were eventually greeted by the sight a of a surprisingly humble, smaller red-bricked building. The music was definitely coming from inside. Though the place certainly looked nice, the building materials stood out as a relic of the past, surrounded by neon lights and towering behemoths of glass and metal. Shaking your doubts aside, you went inside.

The interior was impossibly huge for what you’d seen on the outside. Where the outside couldn’t have made the place seem any bigger than a hundred feet deep at most, the building appeared to be at least a few times that in size, and, on top of that, an array of sounds, sights, and smells greet you as you walk in.

First and foremost, you were greeted by the music. Smooth as butter, the notes of the saxophone came off the stage, the portly dark-skinned man behind them wearing a tuxedo and dark sunglasses. Accompanying him was several other musicians, playing things from the drums to the piano, though not all were presently active, some seeming to be waiting for a cue to go themselves.



The walls around you and on the inside of the heavy wooden door were covered in deep, red satin, with the room lit up by understated red spotlights that kept the entire place in a sort of colored dim light. The spacious interior was filled with sofas and wooden chairs placed evenly about the room, all facing tables, and most still facing a raised, small-ish stage. The sofas themselves were a dark, crimson color, the fabric visibly very smooth. The tables seemed to made be of a rich, dark mahogany, with glass panes forming the interior. The carpet beneath your feet felt coarse, lighter, wide lines contrasted against the deep purple that made up most of the floor, before it gave way to a dark hardwood underneath the tables.

Finally, you were met by the smell of food. The scent of freshly-cooked meat wafted through the air, and your eyes followed it to a enormous, succulent steak sitting atop a patron’s plate. Across the way, you saw as much as you smelled another eating a platter of assorted cheeses. Yet still, the scent of other foods hit your nose, a splendorous aroma of tantalizing nourishment.

Across the way, a bar was visible against the wall, employees in dress shirts moving about through a door behind it to what one could only assume was the kitchen. The wall behind the bar was lined with assorted alcohols, ranging from the most foul swill to expensive brandies and imported beverages that cost an arm and a leg to get.

Many of the sofas and bar stools were empty, but that more attested to the available space than to how busy the place was. Plenty of patrons sat around, quietly discussing matters among themselves, eating and drinking. For most, their expressions could easily be read as content, the music and food washing away whatever worries they may have. Most of them were dressed very nicely, though not all; some younger individuals sat around a table dressed in more casual clothing, and they didn't seem to be provoking anyone's ire by doing so.

In one corner of the room, a man sat there, clad in little more than rags. His grey beard was almost as unkempt as his shoulder-length hair. The man stared down into his drink, a deep red wine. His eyebrows were furrowed in apparent frustration and worry, his eyes briefly moving towards you and anyone with you as you came in, before he went back to whatever he was thinking about.

Sitting lazily on one of the sofas, a shapely woman in a low-cut red dress watched you intently. She looked to be relatively young, with her long black hair let down to rest against her lower back. Her vibrant topaz eyes looked out from under her mane with an inviting gaze, her red lips curling away with a coy smile. She seemed to be looking right at you. Almost as quickly as she noticed you, though, she looked away, turning her attention back to her glass of champagne.

Another man sat back in a chair, leaning the seat back so that its front legs were dangling off the ground. Wearing a long brown robe, he tapped the table restlessly whilst watching the performers. At his waist, hung a metal cylinder. His eyes didn't turn to meet yours, but you distinctly felt as though you'd been noticed.

For now, though, a woman walked up to you, clad in the uniforms of the staff. Her accent was heavily French. "Ah, hello! Allow me to seat you." Quickly, you were brought to open tables, though it more or less seemed like you had free-roam of the establishment a this point, and, judging by the unmolested individual in the corner, they weren't too stingy as far as how nice you were dressed went. Welcome to Pocket D.

 
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Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis

Jack heard the "not too far off" music as he was walking down the road on a rainy day as he was getting closer and closer, the smell of some food was entering his nostrils, and yet still there was the music, "Well, I could have something to eat that's for sure" The corporate madman said to himself as he entered the premises when he was there met by someone with a heavily noticeable french accent, he accepted to be seated, yet there empty stools in which he sat in one waiting to be asked what he wanted.

ActualConsciousLark-max-1mb.gif

The one known as a murderer back in home planet looked around just to check if there was anyone from the Hyperion Corporation that he may be an acquaintance with, as yet as he said the following to himself "There's no one here I know.... I don't even know what in the sake of Helios is this.... ah shit"

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2

 

  • Woods had been wandering around, his head swimming around in thoughts that just wouldn't fuck off. He really, really needed to get his hands on some smokes or something- calm his ass down.

    Thankfully, it seemed that this Pocket D place could help. Heading inside, the blue-eyed man was practically stunned by the overwhelming amount of features the interior offered compared to its dinky exterior. He began breathing in, trying to calm himself, but it was practically no use as his brain buzzed around, taking in everything his senses brought to it and practically amplifying it to an irritating output.

    When the waitress noticed him and brought him over to an open area, he visibly declined the seating- relatively politely for the rude man. His ideas were definitely messing with him- both mentally and characteristically.

    "Sorry, but I got other plans- need something to think,"
    He replied before moving towards the bar in an attempt to procure some cigarettes, passing Handsome Jack on the way yet not acknowledging the man. As soon as he reached a bar stool, the CIA agent slumped down, pointing towards the bartender.

    "Batshit, where's some smokes?!?!" He tried to shout, but failed miserably and instead sounded as though he were trying to question the man. In the meantime, he continued trying to assuage his brain on the sole thought of having a smoke or two.

 
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widowmaker | amelié lacroix









post

info

inventory

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    Stars dotted the city sky, though dulled by the glittering skyscrapers and neon signs.The night was serene - well as serene as a bustling city could be.
    Besides the faint sounds of passing vehicles and brief chattering, the soft click of heels joined in with the crisp and yet undefined sounds of the night.
    The heeled woman is Amelie Lacroix, though looking nicer wardrobe wise, but still equally threatening appearing. She wore a soft purple-blue dress that clung to her curves and hung off of her in a risque but classy way. Black beads dangled off her neck - more like shoulders - in a loosely chic way, completed with a set of pearl earrings.
    Her dark purple hair had cascaded to her rump, instead of being confined by a simple hairtie.
    It was nice to get out of that slinky purple suit and get out of the ghettos overall. Amelie was in dire need of a break - as well as some food.


    The cry of a saxophone and ring of a piano only assisted with her desire of a break.
    She had heard of some relaxing bars at night, and hoped this was one of them - why, it was part of the reason she was so dressed.


    The assassin followed the music, it eventually leading her to a promising-looking, brick building. She pushed open the thick, wooden door to reveal the sensual and comforting interior. Her cadmium yellow gaze sweeped along the room, noting the bawdy woman and ashen man in rags.
    The other noteworthy customers would have to be the two men she had noticed from the warehouse.
    She quirked an eyebrow, ambling over to some empty seats between the two.
    To her left, the man with the scarred face was talking to himself. To her right, the militaristic man was wearily asking for a dose of nicotine.


    Amelie flicked her gaze over to the server and then to the menu. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and pondered silently of what to get..
  • [div class=containerbox][div class=txtbox][div class=scrollbox]
    mood: curious
    health: parfait - hungry
    location: pocket d
    outfit:
    jazzy
    ability: widow's kiss and grappling hook
    interactions: open
    music: [/div][/div][/div]

[/div][/div][/div]
 
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As for Geralt, well... He was never much for places like this. Though he had attended masquerade balls and parties more than a few times, it had rarely been because he actually wanted to go, usually coinciding, rather, with a monster hunt, or some other job. Some might call it a perk. He called it demeaning. Having to take his armor off was bad enough, let alone having to set his swords aside. That being said, this time around, he had neither of those things. As naked as that made him feel, the idea of relaxing for a bit didn't sound so bad.

So, he went out and stone what he could only assume passed for dress wear. In the end, he settled upon a slim-fit, athletic cut tuxedo. The suit had seen better days, certainly, and it was a bit small on him, but it was what he could find, considering he was a bit strapped for cash and didn't feel like spending anything on clothes, but understood showing up in a blood-stained tunic would look bad.

Geralt had also taken the time to shave, not fully cutting his beard away, but taming it to be a bit more along the lines of dignified scruff than an unkempt mat. His previously wild hair was tied back behind his head, the sides done in an undercut. Admittedly, it was clear this had been done with a knife rather than with a professional's pair of scissors, but Geralt had tried, and it did make him look a bit more tidy. Almost like he could fit into a place like this, save for the white hair and yellow eyes.

Geralt stood quietly outside the door, hearing the music from the other side of the door. He adjusted the tie he was wearing, having had to ask a stranger to help him with it. The person had given him a look, but... well, in the end, Geralt convinced her to help with a little bit of his trademark charm (also known as mind control). He hated doing that when he felt it unnecessary, but the Witcher honestly had no idea what to do with the veritable noose.

Even still, the tie wasn't on right, but he had no way to know that.

Geralt pushed the door open and then stopped, suddenly assailed by a barrage of sensations that caught him totally off guard. He'd never heard music like this. Seen decorations like this. Smelled anything like this. He wasn't sure if it was pleasant, but he knew it was different. It took him a moment to realize the waitress was talking to him. He paused, mouth agape still in quiet surprise, for several seconds before finally answering. "Yeah, sorry. Sure, I'll... I'll seat myself Thanks, though. Don't have any money, anyways. Just wanted to check it out."

The french-woman waved dismissively. "This is your first time here, non? The first time is always free. That way, you know what you're getting, and you'll be more likely to come back." She shot Geralt a sly wink before stepping away. "Wave me over whenever you need me, monsieur. I will get you whatever you need."

The Witcher nodded before scanning the room. His eyes passed over what looked to be a Nordling, and then stopped on the woman eyeing him, as she had the others, with a quietly inviting stare. A smirk crossed his face, though he shortly shook it off. He still had no idea what was really going on, and he didn't want to chance anything. Not even that. Finally, though, he saw the two men from the fight with Stroheim and Widow. Three people he recognized. That, alone, put him at ease.

Standing straight, he went to the only person here he really knew at all, that being one Widowmaker. He sat across the table from her, leaving space for CHEF and Mercer, should they also arrive. "You look nice." To the point. "Was probably just gonna turn and walk out, but seeing you here changed my mind." He leaned back in his chair before looking at the menu. "I don't know what any of this is."

The server approached the both of them, seeing the hesitation on Widow's face. "If I may, mademoiselle, since the first night is free, why not try the steak of the night? It is a wonderful Châteaubriand, accompanied with a special Béarnaise Sauce made by our wonderful chef, as well as a serving of roasted tarragon potatoes. If the gentleman would like, he may also have that."

Geralt blinked in silent confusion, seeming to have no idea what on earth she was talking about.
View attachment 408419

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


Jack heard the "not too far off" music as he was walking down the road on a rainy day as he was getting closer and closer, the smell of some food was entering his nostrils, and yet still there was the music, "Well, I could have something to eat that's for sure" The corporate madman said to himself as he entered the premises when he was there met by someone with a heavily noticeable french accent, he accepted to be seated, yet there empty stools in which he sat in one waiting to be asked what he wanted.

View attachment 408435

The one known as a murderer back in home planet looked around just to check if there was anyone from the Hyperion Corporation that he may be an acquaintance with, as yet as he said the following to himself "There's no one here I know.... I don't even know what in the sake of Helios is this.... ah shit"

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2



One of the bartenders, a middle-aged man with a well-kept beard and short hair looked over at Jack for a moment before heading over. He didn't recognize him. After a moment's thought, he poured a glass of brandy, setting it on the table in front of Jack. "If I heard that right, you aren't from around here, friend. Allow me to welcome you to the Pocket D." The man's smile was warm, like an old friend greeting someone he hadn't seen in a while. "Name's Erialos. Since it's your first time here, everything's on the house. Within reason, anyways. What brings you here? The music? A place to put your feet up? Looking for work?"

  • Woods had been wandering around, his head swimming around in thoughts that just wouldn't fuck off. He really, really needed to get his hands on some smokes or something- calm his ass down.

    Thankfully, it seemed that this Pocket D place could help. Heading inside, the blue-eyed man was practically stunned by the overwhelming amount of features the interior offered compared to its dinky exterior. He began breathing in, trying to calm himself, but it was practically no use as his brain buzzed around, taking in everything his senses brought to it and practically amplifying it to an irritating output.

    When the waitress noticed him and brought him over to an open area, he visibly declined the seating- relatively politely for the rude man. His ideas were definitely messing with him- both mentally and characteristically.

    "Sorry, but I got other plans- need something to think," He replied before moving towards the bar in an attempt to procure some cigarettes, passing Handsome Jack on the way yet not acknowledging the man. As soon as he reached a bar stool, the CIA agent slumped down, pointing towards the bartender.

    "Batshit, where's some smokes?!?!" He tried to shout, but failed miserably and instead sounded as though he were trying to question the man. In the meantime, he continued trying to assuage his brain on the sole thought of having a smoke or two.



"Of course, monsieur. Just wave me, or any of my coworkers down if you need anything." The waitress smiled before walking away.

The bartender that looked up at Woods's (almost) harsh was a rather petite blond woman that couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Though short and a bit timid-looking, she didn't flinch away, seeming rather unfazed by it. After but a moment's thought, she began to laugh. The sound was clear and bright, filling the air with her innocent chuckle. When she spoke, her accent, much like the waitress that greeted Woods and the others at the door, was very heavily French. "Of course, monsieur, but you do not need to be so rude! I would only be so grateful to get you some." She leaned under the bar, pulling a box out and setting it on the table. Upon opening it, Woods was greeted with several longer, round cigars. Perhaps not what he was looking for, but, still.

"Imported from Cuba. Since it's your first night here, help yourself to a few! Can I get you anything else in the meantime? My name is Corinne, by the way." She smiled, her white teeth and already-forming laugh lines pure in the darkness of the room.

FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie
 
ALEX MERCER


  • Pocket D

Mercer wandered into the club, wanting somewhere to sit down and think, think about his humanity and his purpose, and also to sift through the memories of those he'd consumed during the day. The sound of soothing jazz music and clinking glasses greeted him as he walked further in. He usually visited these locations to drink his sorrows away (which he couldn't; alcohol had no effect on something with no vital organs). A young and petite waitress greeted him and guided him over to a table. At first, he was going to politely ask to be seated at a lonely table far away from everyone else, but upon seeing the people seated at the table, he relaxed. They were the same ones from the warehouse, the same ones who arrived in this city the same way as he did. He realised that it was rather coincidental to have them all in the same location, seated at the same table at that,

Millennium City was big, bigger than New York, in fact. There were hundreds of clubs and bars scattered around the city. Then again, Pocket D was one of the more noteworthy establishments in the city, where the richer residents would go get some fine whiskey and discuss professional matters such as profits, holiday plans, and the disposing of rivals.

"Widow. Geralt." He nodded in greeting and took a seat next to Geralt. The two of them were dressed in appropriate clothing, Widow wearing a rather form-fitting purple-blue dress. A beaded necklace hung around her neck, and pearl earrings were attached to her ears. To complete her wardrobe, a pair of high-heels covered her feet. Geralt was wearing a tuxedo that had clearly seen better days, with the suit looking to be too small on him. The tie around his neck, which was more or less a vital feature for suits, was incorrectly tied, and judging by how the man shifted uncomfortably, it was clear he wasn't used to apparel like this. Mercer noted that he had tidied up (albeit somewhat shoddily), trimming his beard and tying his usually wild white hair back.

Compared to the pair, Mercer stuck out. He hadn't bothered to change into more fitting apparel, and was in his usual attire, which was a rather stark contrast to the more grandiose wear of the other patrons. His jacket, jeans, and hood really made him look out of place in this fine establishment. Not like he cared, anyway. He had used the appearance of the original Alex Mercer as his default form for so long he was rather reluctant to adopt another one. Besides, he really liked his jacket, both Blacklight and Mercer did.

"Fancy meeting you here." He said, before gazing over to the other two seated and nodding wordlessly. He raised a hand and called the waitress over. "Just give me... something strong. Really strong."
 
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Corrosion Corrosion
Mood: Slightly Nervous
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Calm stuff

1520256753925.png

It was the first time that he had ever visited this city. It was a beautiful place that shone even at night time. In fact, the city felt more alive to him when it was at night. Lights from nearly every single building basked his face and body as he strolled down the cold atmosphere.

The man who was seemingly wandering with no destination in mind was Aoba Seragaki. He had came to Millennium City alone for some time to take the time to relax. It wasn't until recently when he finally had the chance to travel freely, and he loved every single minute of it. Hence, Aoba wanted a memorable trip here.

Suddenly, Aoba heard a faint music that gentle coursed through his ears, feeling an odd sense of tranquillity. Curious, he followed the direction of the music, which ultimately lead him to a building with bricked walls that stood out from the rest of the lavishly designed complexes that surrounded it. However, the source of the music was definitely here. Taking a deep, cold breath that made him shiver a little, Aoba went inside, and was awed almost immediately.

The interior decoration was luxurious in comparison to its humble exterior. Even the air and smell around his vicinity was completely different. The jazz music that floated around the room was definitely comfort for his ears. Aoba had never heard music like this, and so he was pleasantly surprised at how wonderful it was. He could feel himself falling into a more and more relaxed state before a voice grabbed his attention.

"Welcome to Pocket D, sir." One of the waitresses had approached Aoba without knowing, causing him to flinch out of reflex, but he quickly regained his composure. "Allow me to seat you." The waitress added, speaking in an accent that he had never heard before.

Aoba nodded, before following the waitress to an spot where there sat a man with a noticeable scar that went across his face, a man donned in what resembles to be a military outfit and a women dressed in a beautiful evening gown with an unnatural purplish-blue skin.

With the current outfit that he was wearing, he felt a bit out of place. But hey, he wandered into this place on a whim, so Aoba had no time to change into a more appropriate attire. Taking another deep breath, he made his way to the group and sat down on an empty seat beside the man with the scarred face.

"Hey guys," Aoba was a bit nervous as sweat began to gather in his palms. The people he sat next to were rather intimidating. Desperately trying to start a conversation, Aoba spoke with his usual smile and directed his gaze at the scarred man. "Is this your first time here? What's your name?"

Just then, he felt another presence behind him. Before he could turn around, a hooded figure had also sat down at the same area. Again, Aoba returned his typical smile at the man, who seemed rather rough as well. "Hello sir." Aoba waved shyly at the hooded man. "How are you?"
 
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Handsome Jack
Status: Alive... yet
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis



The one who was always known as a murderer to everyone in his home planet heard what the bartender had to say "And sure you heard that right" Mr. Corporate I'm uncultured said "If for something didn't bring me, I wouldn't be here, I simply just need a damn place to sit, put my feet up and watch as the world around me comes down to pure trouble... as it did back at the place I come from" As the man who had the scarred face under a mask drank a bit of what the glass in front of him had to contain, he couldn't be more relieved to have said what he just said, and then he saw another person trying to interact with him, and for sure he was nervous by the look on his face as to answer his main question "Actually this is my 2nd time, It's obviously the first time, kiddo. I don't even know what outside this place is, have you ever thought of that?"

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Mythias Mythias
 
View attachment 408607

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive... yet
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis



The one who was always known as a murderer to everyone in his home planet heard what the bartender had to say "And sure you heard that right" Mr. Corporate I'm uncultured said "If for something didn't bring me, I wouldn't be here, I simply just need a damn place to sit, put my feet up and watch as the world around me comes down to pure trouble... as it did back at the place I come from" As the man who had the scarred face under a mask drank a bit of what the glass in front of him had to contain, he couldn't be more relieved to have said what he just said, and then he saw another person trying to interact with him, and for sure he was nervous by the look on his face as to answer his main question "Actually this is my 2nd time, It's obviously the first time, kiddo. I don't even know what outside this place is, have you ever thought of that?"

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Mythias Mythias

Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: : BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Corrosion Corrosion
Mood: Slightly Nervous
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Calm stuff

1520256753925-png.408604


Aoba was a bit taken aback by the aggressive response from the scarred man. "Oh. Well I didn't know." Aoba replied quickly, finding himself stuttering a little while saying his answer. "I just thought maybe you were a local or something. I just wanted to strike up a conversation."

Oh man I made it even worse. Aoba sighed to himself, before turning his attention to the bar menu. It was quite extensive and he found himself spending quite a lot of time to digest the large menu of drinks and snacks that were on offer. However, most of the drinks were alcoholic, and Aoba is not very good at handling his liquor. There were times where he had fallen completely drunk after one cup of sake. His childhood friend, Koujaku, would often make fun of him for that, much to Aoba's chagrin. Whatever the case, he wanted to at least try as many things as he could while he was at Millennium City, so he ordered a fruit cocktail from the bartender with less alcohol. Within a few minutes after his order, the bartender quickly presented Aoba's drink. It was deep red in colour and had fresh mixed berries in the liquid, almost like a Sangria.

This cocktail is actually quite nice, he thought to himself as he slowly sipped on his alcoholic beverage. Even right now, Aoba was feeling a little bit flushed from the drink despite barely having half the glass. Therefore, he only took a few sips at a time so his body could cope with it. The last thing he wanted to happen was to be dragged out of the club for passing out.

Regardless, Aoba continued to try and strike up a conversation with the scarred man. "So..." Aoba tried to be more confident this time. "Why are you here at Millenium City then?"
 
As for Geralt, well... He was never much for places like this. Though he had attended masquerade balls and parties more than a few times, it had rarely been because he actually wanted to go, usually coinciding, rather, with a monster hunt, or some other job. Some might call it a perk. He called it demeaning. Having to take his armor off was bad enough, let alone having to set his swords aside. That being said, this time around, he had neither of those things. As naked as that made him feel, the idea of relaxing for a bit didn't sound so bad.

So, he went out and stone what he could only assume passed for dress wear. In the end, he settled upon a slim-fit, athletic cut tuxedo. The suit had seen better days, certainly, and it was a bit small on him, but it was what he could find, considering he was a bit strapped for cash and didn't feel like spending anything on clothes, but understood showing up in a blood-stained tunic would look bad.

Geralt had also taken the time to shave, not fully cutting his beard away, but taming it to be a bit more along the lines of dignified scruff than an unkempt mat. His previously wild hair was tied back behind his head, the sides done in an undercut. Admittedly, it was clear this had been done with a knife rather than with a professional's pair of scissors, but Geralt had tried, and it did make him look a bit more tidy. Almost like he could fit into a place like this, save for the white hair and yellow eyes.

Geralt stood quietly outside the door, hearing the music from the other side of the door. He adjusted the tie he was wearing, having had to ask a stranger to help him with it. The person had given him a look, but... well, in the end, Geralt convinced her to help with a little bit of his trademark charm (also known as mind control). He hated doing that when he felt it unnecessary, but the Witcher honestly had no idea what to do with the veritable noose.

Even still, the tie wasn't on right, but he had no way to know that.

Geralt pushed the door open and then stopped, suddenly assailed by a barrage of sensations that caught him totally off guard. He'd never heard music like this. Seen decorations like this. Smelled anything like this. He wasn't sure if it was pleasant, but he knew it was different. It took him a moment to realize the waitress was talking to him. He paused, mouth agape still in quiet surprise, for several seconds before finally answering. "Yeah, sorry. Sure, I'll... I'll seat myself Thanks, though. Don't have any money, anyways. Just wanted to check it out."

The french-woman waved dismissively. "This is your first time here, non? The first time is always free. That way, you know what you're getting, and you'll be more likely to come back." She shot Geralt a sly wink before stepping away. "Wave me over whenever you need me, monsieur. I will get you whatever you need."

The Witcher nodded before scanning the room. His eyes passed over what looked to be a Nordling, and then stopped on the woman eyeing him, as she had the others, with a quietly inviting stare. A smirk crossed his face, though he shortly shook it off. He still had no idea what was really going on, and he didn't want to chance anything. Not even that. Finally, though, he saw the two men from the fight with Stroheim and Widow. Three people he recognized. That, alone, put him at ease.

Standing straight, he went to the only person here he really knew at all, that being one Widowmaker. He sat across the table from her, leaving space for CHEF and Mercer, should they also arrive. "You look nice." To the point. "Was probably just gonna turn and walk out, but seeing you here changed my mind." He leaned back in his chair before looking at the menu. "I don't know what any of this is."

The server approached the both of them, seeing the hesitation on Widow's face. "If I may, mademoiselle, since the first night is free, why not try the steak of the night? It is a wonderful Châteaubriand, accompanied with a special Béarnaise Sauce made by our wonderful chef, as well as a serving of roasted tarragon potatoes. If the gentleman would like, he may also have that."

Geralt blinked in silent confusion, seeming to have no idea what on earth she was talking about.



One of the bartenders, a middle-aged man with a well-kept beard and short hair looked over at Jack for a moment before heading over. He didn't recognize him. After a moment's thought, he poured a glass of brandy, setting it on the table in front of Jack. "If I heard that right, you aren't from around here, friend. Allow me to welcome you to the Pocket D." The man's smile was warm, like an old friend greeting someone he hadn't seen in a while. "Name's Erialos. Since it's your first time here, everything's on the house. Within reason, anyways. What brings you here? The music? A place to put your feet up? Looking for work?"


"Of course, monsieur. Just wave me, or any of my coworkers down if you need anything." The waitress smiled before walking away.

The bartender that looked up at Woods's (almost) harsh was a rather petite blond woman that couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Though short and a bit timid-looking, she didn't flinch away, seeming rather unfazed by it. After but a moment's thought, she began to laugh. The sound was clear and bright, filling the air with her innocent chuckle. When she spoke, her accent, much like the waitress that greeted Woods and the others at the door, was very heavily French. "Of course, monsieur, but you do not need to be so rude! I would only be so grateful to get you some." She leaned under the bar, pulling a box out and setting it on the table. Upon opening it, Woods was greeted with several longer, round cigars. Perhaps not what he was looking for, but, still.

"Imported from Cuba. Since it's your first night here, help yourself to a few! Can I get you anything else in the meantime? My name is Corinne, by the way." She smiled, her white teeth and already-forming laugh lines pure in the darkness of the room.

FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie

Arriving after the others, the robotic cook had changed his outfit much like the rest of his group. Well, not counting Mercer. But when you're a shapeshifting mass of organic matter, is changing clothes quite the same as it is for everyone else? The answer didn't matter, as the now well-dressed machine entered the building, having followed the distinct vital signs and genetic patterns of his cohorts.

Though his form was certainly what would be described as 'boxy' by a tailor, it seems that at least one of the many shops in Millenium was able to make a suit for the metal man. It was odd to see him without his signature chef's hat, and instead, a simple trilby topped his head.
Joining them at the table, the machine nods his head in greeting "My apologies for my late arrival. I had to work at a local restaurant to earn the money for this suit. My calculations of how quickly I could prepare roast ducks did not account for how slow the other chefs were"

He takes a seat and looks to the waitress, noting her accent "Bonjour Mademoiselle, parlez-vous français?" he asks, curious about exactly how many fellow French speakers he might encounter within this mysterious city. He turns to face the rest of his group, noting that despite his scanners showing that two of his fellows had gone to locations where they could obtain formal attire, his scans on Mercer had been quite correct about him not doing the same​
 
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: : BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Corrosion Corrosion
Mood: Slightly Nervous
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Calm stuff

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Aoba was a bit taken aback by the aggressive response from the scarred man. "Oh. Well I didn't know." Aoba replied quickly, finding himself stuttering a little while saying his answer. "I just thought maybe you were a local or something. I just wanted to strike up a conversation."

Oh man I made it even worse. Aoba sighed to himself, before turning his attention to the bar menu. It was quite extensive and he found himself spending quite a lot of time to digest the large menu of drinks and snacks that were on offer. However, most of the drinks were alcoholic, and Aoba is not very good at handling his liquor. There were times where he had fallen completely drunk after one cup of sake. His childhood friend, Koujaku, would often make fun of him for that, much to Aoba's chagrin. Whatever the case, he wanted to at least try as many things as he could while he was at Millennium City, so he ordered a fruit cocktail from the bartender with less alcohol. Within a few minutes after his order, the bartender quickly presented Aoba's drink. It was deep red in colour and had fresh mixed berries in the liquid, almost like a Sangria.

This cocktail is actually quite nice, he thought to himself as he slowly sipped on his alcoholic beverage. Even right now, Aoba was feeling a little bit flushed from the drink despite barely having half the glass. Therefore, he only took a few sips at a time so his body could cope with it. The last thing he wanted to happen was to be dragged out of the club for passing out.

Regardless, Aoba continued to try and strike up a conversation with the scarred man. "So..." Aoba tried to be more confident this time. "Why are you here at Millenium City then?"


L2Zo442.gif

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive..... still, but not yet drunk
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


"Well, somehow I don't even know why I got here, but yet I'm trying to find a way back to where I come from "Mr. Corporate Jackass said to the one who was just bringing up a conversation "That's if I don't yet strangle someone to death like I did it to my former and dead boss, and yet I'm still here" Jack then decided to take a bit from his glass of Brandy, and yet thinking how funny it was to literally go around having people killed back in the shit-hole planet known as Pandora, not even of such that was related to firstly personally shooting a frag-trap robot, then killing his boss, but that was when his mental decline was off limits and had gone too insane, even though he won't even take more than what he should need to in order to get drunk, that's for sure

Mythias Mythias
 
latest

The smell of food cooking and smooth music was what attracted Maxwell to the bar. He'd even dressed up for the occasion. The way bars were ran now were probably different but the place was supposedly on a pedestal.
By the looks of it he wouldn't be disappointed, the area itself had an uptown sort of vibe to it. It also reminded him a bit of the places he like to take Charlie "Those were the days..." He sighed, but didn't dwell on the past for too long.
When he entered he wasn't disappointed, the furniture and decor were well kept by the looks of it and he was immediately greeted by one of the staff.
Taking a seat on a stool, he was just a single person and having a drink in such a long time would be nice.
By the looks of it there were already some people from before enjoying themselves and new faces made it here as well. More people would probably fill up empty seats. His attention turned to the drink variety. A glass of finely aged wine would be nice, if he could find some cigars that would be even better.

@/Anyone (More of an intro post than something to react to)
 
ALEX MERCER


  • Pocket D

Mercer wandered into the club, wanting somewhere to sit down and think, think about his humanity and his purpose, and also to sift through the memories of those he'd consumed during the day. The sound of soothing jazz music and clinking glasses greeted him as he walked further in. He usually visited these locations to drink his sorrows away (which he couldn't; alcohol had no effect on something with no vital organs). A young and petite waitress greeted him and guided him over to a table. At first, he was going to politely ask to be seated at a lonely table far away from everyone else, but upon seeing the people seated at the table, he relaxed. They were the same ones from the warehouse, the same ones who arrived in this city the same way as he did. He realised that it was rather coincidental to have them all in the same location, seated at the same table at that,

Millennium City was big, bigger than New York, in fact. There were hundreds of clubs and bars scattered around the city. Then again, Pocket D was one of the more noteworthy establishments in the city, where the richer residents would go get some fine whiskey and discuss professional matters such as profits, holiday plans, and the disposing of rivals.

"Widow. Geralt." He nodded in greeting and took a seat next to Geralt. The two of them were dressed in appropriate clothing, Widow wearing a rather form-fitting purple-blue dress. A beaded necklace hung around her neck, and pearl earrings were attached to her ears. To complete her wardrobe, a pair of high-heels covered her feet. Geralt was wearing a tuxedo that had clearly seen better days, with the suit looking to be too small on him. The tie around his neck, which was more or less a vital feature for suits, was incorrectly tied, and judging by how the man shifted uncomfortably, it was clear he wasn't used to apparel like this. Mercer noted that he had tidied up (albeit somewhat shoddily), trimming his beard and tying his usually wild white hair back.

Compared to the pair, Mercer stuck out. He hadn't bothered to change into more fitting apparel, and was in his usual attire, which was a rather stark contrast to the more grandiose wear of the other patrons. His jacket, jeans, and hood really made him look out of place in this fine establishment. Not like he cared, anyway. He had used the appearance of the original Alex Mercer as his default form for so long he was rather reluctant to adopt another one. Besides, he really liked his jacket, both Blacklight and Mercer did.

"Fancy meeting you here." He said, before gazing over to the other two seated and nodding wordlessly. He raised a hand and called the waitress over. "Just give me... something strong. Really strong."

Geralt looked away from the waitress, raising an eyebrow at Mercer. "If I'd known you weren't going to bother, I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of figuring out what people wear to places like this these days. Took me the better part of the day just to find that out, let alone find anything that even kind of fit me." The Witcher shook his head with a good-natured half smirk before turning back to the waitress. "Same for me. At least alcohol hasn't gotten more complicated... oh, and I'll have... whatever it is you just said to eat, I guess."

The waitress nodded and turned her attention away from the two men, now just waiting to see what Widow would like. She had brown hair tied back in a pony tail, looking to be in her early thirties, maybe. Though pretty, creases were set about her face. The marks of a life of worry and hardship. Still, though, she stood remarkably straight, though she was, admittedly, rather short. "And for you, mademoiselle?"

Arriving after the others, the robotic cook had changed his outfit much like the rest of his group. Well, not counting Mercer. But when you're a shapeshifting mass of organic matter, is changing clothes quite the same as it is for everyone else? The answer didn't matter, as the now well-dressed machine entered the building, having followed the distinct vital signs and genetic patterns of his cohorts.

Though his form was certainly what would be described as 'boxy' by a tailor, it seems that at least one of the many shops in Millenium was able to make a suit for the metal man. It was odd to see him without his signature chef's hat, and instead, a simple trilby topped his head.
Joining them at the table, the machine nods his head in greeting "My apologies for my late arrival. I had to work at a local restaurant to earn the money for this suit. My calculations of how quickly I could prepare roast ducks did not account for how slow the other chefs were"

He takes a seat and looks to the waitress, noting her accent "Bonjour Mademoiselle, parlez-vous français?" he asks, curious about exactly how many fellow French speakers he might encounter within this mysterious city. He turns to face the rest of his group, noting that despite his scanners showing that two of his fellows had gone to locations where they could obtain formal attire, his scans on Mercer had been quite correct about him not doing the same​


Though CHEF's sudden arrival initially caused the woman to hesitate, it wasn't because of his appearance. Actually, the moment he greeted the party like he knew them, she relaxed, though his question caught her a bit off guard. The surprise wasn't unpleasant, though, and, shortly, her smile returned. "Oui en fait. Ma soeur et moi sommes venus ici il y a de nombreuses années avec notre famille. Je m'appele Henriette." She nodded to him respectfully. "I hear you are something of a chef, then, non?"

Geralt looked over curiously, then nodded. "Yeah, you could say that." He hadn't ever tasted CHEF's cooking, but he didn't doubt that oven could roast something very quickly. Namely a person. "Gotta say, though, it's weird to think of a golem working in a kitchen." Geralt shook his head. "Not used to you even being able to talk, actually." The witcher leaned on the table, his elbows resting against it. It seemed he could only keep so much of his uncouth nature in check.

Henriette, for one, looked appalled, her expression shortly hardening to one of righteous indignation. "It is not very polite, monsieur, to refer to a person with such a crude term as a golem. I apologize, but we at Pocket D do not allow for such behavior. More to it, of course they are allowed to talk. They are as much people as you or me."

The Witcher blinked, once again seeming confused. "That's not what I... oh, nevermind." To his credit, he didn't argue, simply holding his hands up. "Sorry, CHEF."

uwupolice uwupolice Corrosion Corrosion DapperDogman DapperDogman
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 uwupolice uwupolice Rhysie Rhysie FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Corrosion Corrosion
Mood: Slightly Nervous
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Calm stuff

View attachment 408604

It was the first time that he had ever visited this city. It was a beautiful place that shone even at night time. In fact, the city felt more alive to him when it was at night. Lights from nearly every single building basked his face and body as he strolled down the cold atmosphere.

The man who was seemingly wandering with no destination in mind was Aoba Seragaki. He had came to Millennium City alone for some time to take the time to relax. It wasn't until recently when he finally had the chance to travel freely, and he loved every single minute of it. Hence, Aoba wanted a memorable trip here.

Suddenly, Aoba heard a faint music that gentle coursed through his ears, feeling an odd sense of tranquillity. Curious, he followed the direction of the music, which ultimately lead him to a building with bricked walls that stood out from the rest of the lavishly designed complexes that surrounded it. However, the source of the music was definitely here. Taking a deep, cold breath that made him shiver a little, Aoba went inside, and was awed almost immediately.

The interior decoration was luxurious in comparison to its humble exterior. Even the air and smell around his vicinity was completely different. The jazz music that floated around the room was definitely comfort for his ears. Aoba had never heard music like this, and so he was pleasantly surprised at how wonderful it was. He could feel himself falling into a more and more relaxed state before a voice grabbed his attention.

"Welcome to Pocket D, sir." One of the waitresses had approached Aoba without knowing, causing him to flinch out of reflex, but he quickly regained his composure. "Allow me to seat you." The waitress added, speaking in an accent that he had never heard before.

Aoba nodded, before following the waitress to an spot where there sat a man with a noticeable scar that went across his face, a man donned in what resembles to be a military outfit and a women dressed in a beautiful evening gown with an unnatural purplish-blue skin.

With the current outfit that he was wearing, he felt a bit out of place. But hey, he wandered into this place on a whim, so Aoba had no time to change into a more appropriate attire. Taking another deep breath, he made his way to the group and sat down on an empty seat beside the man with the scarred face.

"Hey guys," Aoba was a bit nervous as sweat began to gather in his palms. The people he sat next to were rather intimidating. Desperately trying to start a conversation, Aoba spoke with his usual smile and directed his gaze at the scarred man. "Is this your first time here? What's your name?"

Just then, he felt another presence behind him. Before he could turn around, a hooded figure had also sat down at the same area. Again, Aoba returned his typical smile at the man, who seemed rather rough as well. "Hello sir." Aoba waved shyly at the hooded man. "How are you?"
View attachment 408607

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive... yet
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis



The one who was always known as a murderer to everyone in his home planet heard what the bartender had to say "And sure you heard that right" Mr. Corporate I'm uncultured said "If for something didn't bring me, I wouldn't be here, I simply just need a damn place to sit, put my feet up and watch as the world around me comes down to pure trouble... as it did back at the place I come from" As the man who had the scarred face under a mask drank a bit of what the glass in front of him had to contain, he couldn't be more relieved to have said what he just said, and then he saw another person trying to interact with him, and for sure he was nervous by the look on his face as to answer his main question "Actually this is my 2nd time, It's obviously the first time, kiddo. I don't even know what outside this place is, have you ever thought of that?"

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Mythias Mythias
View attachment 408752

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive..... still, but not yet drunk
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


"Well, somehow I don't even know why I got here, but yet I'm trying to find a way back to where I come from "Mr. Corporate Jackass said to the one who was just bringing up a conversation "That's if I don't yet strangle someone to death like I did it to my former and dead boss, and yet I'm still here" Jack then decided to take a bit from his glass of Brandy, and yet thinking how funny it was to literally go around having people killed back in the shit-hole planet known as Pandora, not even of such that was related to firstly personally shooting a frag-trap robot, then killing his boss, but that was when his mental decline was off limits and had gone too insane, even though he won't even take more than what he should need to in order to get drunk, that's for sure

Mythias Mythias


Erialos raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Glad to see you're already making fast friends." The man looked to Aoba with an apologetic smile. "Can I get you anything? A more pleasant companion, for example? Jeanette over there was eyeing you up, though I guess she does that to everyone." The bartender motioned over to the woman in the red dress lounging on her sofa.

Mythias Mythias Rhysie Rhysie

latest

The smell of food cooking and smooth music was what attracted Maxwell to the bar. He'd even dressed up for the occasion. The way bars were ran now were probably different but the place was supposedly on a pedestal.
By the looks of it he wouldn't be disappointed, the area itself had an uptown sort of vibe to it. It also reminded him a bit of the places he like to take Charlie "Those were the days..." He sighed, but didn't dwell on the past for too long.
When he entered he wasn't disappointed, the furniture and decor were well kept by the looks of it and he was immediately greeted by one of the staff.
Taking a seat on a stool, he was just a single person and having a drink in such a long time would be nice.
By the looks of it there were already some people from before enjoying themselves and new faces made it here as well. More people would probably fill up empty seats. His attention turned to the drink variety. A glass of finely aged wine would be nice, if he could find some cigars that would be even better.

@/Anyone (More of an intro post than something to react to)


No one immediately approached him, but the man clad in rags gave him a look.

ManyFaces ManyFaces
 

  • Frank sighed in relief as the bartender girl brought him some real nice cigs. Not exactly what he wanted, but he didn't have so much of a choice at the time being- he felt more and more insane as time went on, and he was pretty much gambling on the idea that maybe a cig could help him focus.

    "Yeah, yeah, got it," The black-haired American muttered, fiddling with the lighter and ash tray that came with the cigars before finally managing to get a flame up. Without hesitating, he put his mouth to the cigar and took a breath in. As soon as the smoky feeling came into his mouth, he felt his mind opening up once more, returning from its "allergic reaction" involving restless thoughts, hallucinations and paranoia. He already felt brand fucking new, which was brilliant.

    "Fuck, that's so much better..." A small yet rare grin emerged on his face, indicating his satisfaction with his smoke. He turned to the Corinne girl before trying to get her attention- he still had the issue of food.

    "'Ey, what's your name- Corinne, or whatever- grab me some kinda food that's not too fancy, but a meal that'd fill someone's belly quick. Doesn't matter whether it's messy or not, just need something to eat," He ordered- more politely than last time- before returning to taking a smoke, continually clearing the last few obstructive thoughts that had been haunting him before entering Pocket D.

    But it seemed that he wasn't done thinking, as he turned his head to carefully watch the four folks that had just waltzed in through the door- the magic-user, the walking oven, the purple woman, and most of all the hoodie guy. He decided to internally dub the group the "Danger Zone"- as they could potentially turn into threatening enemies in the future- before observing the megalomaniac and the young blue-haired boy speak to each other. Neither of them seemed to be hitting it well with each other, so he decided to call the former out for his brash words- somewhat hypocritical of Woods, sure, but still.

    "'Ey, I hope you're not intimidating the poor kid over there," The Marine grunted- a hollow threat, more meant to be interpreted as a relatively friendly jab- before watching one last guy in a tuxedo walk in, seemingly eyeing the somewhat expensive shit around the bar. Without truly addressing him, the CIA operative pushed the box of cigars, the lighter, and the ash tray to the man, retaining his pose leaning back on the bar table.

    "Take one. Not sure if it's on the house or something, but I don't think I'm gonna be able to go through these expensive li'l fuckers to make up for the bill," The Master Sergeant noted. With the new person addressed, Frank turned back around to keep watch over the door and make sure he didn't miss anyone he recognized as a familiar face.

 
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Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis

Well, looks like someone hasn't yet called the Whaambulance as for what Jack had to hear from the bar tender "Listen here kiddo, I'm not a man to be messing with, unless you want to try and perhaps get killed in the attempt" Said the one who killed his former boss "Now If I could get one of the darkest beers, that'd be great" Jack was somewhat already mad with the bartender, as he then heard a person in a military uniform talking about intimidating the kiddo with the blue hair "Oh don't worry, it's not like I'll try to murder the living heck out of him" Said Jack as he turned to see his almost-empty glass of Brady (which was good for his taste) as he asked the kiddo he was just talking with "And you kiddo? How did you get in this....whatever this is; I don't even know what to call the outside of this place, if either a city, or a small town"

Mythias Mythias BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla
 
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: : BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Rhysie Rhysie FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla
Mood: Taken aback/Slightly bored
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Chill/Active Tune

tumblr_ny188dTYhc1uo75r5o3_250.gif


View attachment 408752

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive..... still, but not yet drunk
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


"Well, somehow I don't even know why I got here, but yet I'm trying to find a way back to where I come from "Mr. Corporate Jackass said to the one who was just bringing up a conversation "That's if I don't yet strangle someone to death like I did it to my former and dead boss, and yet I'm still here" Jack then decided to take a bit from his glass of Brandy, and yet thinking how funny it was to literally go around having people killed back in the shit-hole planet known as Pandora, not even of such that was related to firstly personally shooting a frag-trap robot, then killing his boss, but that was when his mental decline was off limits and had gone too insane, even though he won't even take more than what he should need to in order to get drunk, that's for sure

Mythias Mythias
View attachment 408836


Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis

Well, looks like someone hasn't yet called the Whaambulance as for what Jack had to hear from the bar tender "Listen here kiddo, I'm not a man to be messing with, unless you want to try and perhaps get killed in the attempt" Said the one who killed his former boss "Now If I could get one of the darkest beers, that'd be great" Jack was somewhat already mad with the bartender, as he then heard a person in a military uniform talking about intimidating the kiddo with the blue hair "Oh don't worry, it's not like I'll try to murder the living heck out of him" Said Jack as he turned to see his almost-empty glass of Brady (which was good for his taste) as he asked the kiddo he was just talking with "And you kiddo? How did you get in this....whatever this is; I don't even know what to call the outside of this place, if either a city, or a small town"

Mythias Mythias BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla

"Ah I see. I just came here for a holiday," Aoba nodded, and was noticeably shaken by the man's hostility. "Well, I hope you don't end up murdering anyone."

"And I would really appreciate it if you don't murder me like you did with your bosses." Aoba was taken aback by the scarred man's aggressive behaviour, only to be confused by the man's seemingly random but sincere question. "Oh well I just came here by plane." Aoba answered. "It was a one-way ticket though since I don't intend to go back home any time soon. Apparently the city is called Millennium City. I heard it's a great tourist destination so I came here."

He let out a nervous chuckle before taking another sip of his cocktail. I don't think I should bother this guy, I don't want to get on his bad side. Aoba sighed, stirring his drink with his straw out with his right hand while leaning his head on his left arm out of sheer boredom and nervousness. He wasn't exactly intimidated by his words. It wasn't like he hadn't dealt with shady people before, since back in the Old Resident District in Midorijima, there were full of people like him. To Aoba, it was just like another normal day with people like Handsome Jack.

Rhysie Rhysie

Erialos raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Glad to see you're already making fast friends." The man looked to Aoba with an apologetic smile. "Can I get you anything? A more pleasant companion, for example? Jeanette over there was eyeing you up, though I guess she does that to everyone." The bartender motioned over to the woman in the red dress lounging on her sofa.

Aoba's train of thought was quickly interrupted by the bartender. "Oh I wouldn't say we are friends." he replied with a nervous chuckle as the last few word of his answer trailed off a little. When the bartender asked if he wanted a more friendlier companion, Aoba simply shook his head. "That's not necessary." Aoba smiled calmly, leaning forward a little bit on the bar counter, "I'm used to people like him."

"And I'm used to being stared at." Aoba chuckled at the statement from the bartender about a woman eyeing him up. "All in all, I'm content."

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2

Frank's attention was drawn away from the "Danger Zone"- a codename for the potential threat from the quartet- by the interaction of the sociopathic psychopath and some new kid- a blue-haired boy. The two didn't exactly seem to be having that great of a talk, judging by the somewhat infuriated expression of the former and the shyish look of the latter. Once again, it seemed like the kid had traits similar to Niwatori and Lann- probably had no clue what was going on, probably lost, and probably a little bit overwhelmed. After all, Woods himself had trouble with all this shit going on- imagine what would happen to someone way younger than him.

"'Ey, I hope you're not intimidating the poor kid over there," The Master Sergeant pulled the cigar out of his mouth and gestured towards Handsome Jack, although he did retain his casual posture. It seemed more like an empty threat- at least, for the time being- and could probably be taken more as a somewhat perky poke at the megalomaniac. However, he didn't say anything else as another figure popped up- one of the folks who had seemingly hung back and hid during most of the battle.

Just then, Aoba heard another unfamiliar voice. It was from the man in the militaristic uniform that was sat near him. "Oh uh I'm not exactly intimidated." He answered, scratched his head while smiling a little. "I'm just a little bit nervous since it's my first time here in this city."

He moved his attention to the man in the military uniform. "So, how are you today? What's your name?" Aoba greeted with his usual expression. "I'm Aoba. Nice to meet you."

FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla
 
tumblr_o0il3a3ZDz1thgcq5o2_540.gif

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


The corporate megalomaniac questioned himself if this kiddo was serious about the One-Way ticket, but without hesitation he asked the one with the [crazy] blue hair "Why don't you want to return home? What happened?" Hoping he'd still get his beer "If it's for personal problems, I know how it feels, I've had my issues in which have gone way too fucking far, I don't even know why I bought a Diamond Horse and named it "Butt-Stalion" Crazy times on the place I come from" And what he said is.... true, he owned a live horse somehow made of diamonds

9a6955c8a6f0340063947f66e419752d.jpg

Life can sometimes be crazy, am I right?

Mythias Mythias
 
View attachment 408884

Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


The corporate megalomaniac questioned himself if this kiddo was serious about the One-Way ticket, but without hesitation he asked the one with the [crazy] blue hair "Why don't you want to return home? What happened?" Hoping he'd still get his beer "If it's for personal problems, I know how it feels, I've had my issues in which have gone way too fucking far, I don't even know why I bought a Diamond Horse and named it "Butt-Stalion" Crazy times on the place I come from" And what he said is.... true, he owned a live horse somehow made of diamonds

9a6955c8a6f0340063947f66e419752d.jpg

Life can sometimes be crazy, am I right?

Mythias Mythias
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: Rhysie Rhysie
Mood: Nostalgic/Slightly bored
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Chill/Active Tune

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"It's not that I won't return home. I will eventually, but I don't feel like I should return home so soon." Aoba responded back, staring at the cocktail that only reached halfway of his cup. The ice in his drink started to melt as well. "My hometown had restrictions on oversea travel until recently, and so I want to take the chance to explore the horizons."

What Aoba said was true. Midorijima used to be under the control of Toue Inc., a company that forcefully created Platinum Jail - a gigantic amusement facility to supposedly fulfil people's desires. To everyone who was invited to Platinum Jail, it was a dream place to live. To everyone in the Old Resident District, it was a nightmare. In reality, Toue Inc. wanted to find the key to brainwash people and control their minds so that people can live a comfortable life in lieu of free will. Aoba held one half of this key to such immoral power.

Aoba was a bit saddened by the scarred man's words, but he wanted to at least reassure him even if they're initial interaction was rather shaky. "It's okay, we all have our own personal problems." He clenched his fist as he said those words. "I thought my problems had been solved after I destroyed an entire corporation with a owner obsessed with controlling people's minds. Of course, that wasn't the case. I now have another slew of problems to deal with. I just want a break from it. That's why I wanted to travel."

He wasn't at all phased by Handsome Jack's short anecdote of his horse made out of diamonds. In fact, Aoba found it a bit amusing, and found himself let out a harmless giggle before he realised. "That's an interesting story." Aoba grinned back at Jack. "I used to have my own animal companion. There's a complicated story behind it actually."

Life is indeed a strange entity.
 
~Shilo Saga~
Interactions: Anyone, more of a intro post than anything
Mentions: N/A
Location: Pocket D

The raven haired assassin had been wandering the streets, more to get away from the group and clear her mind than anything else. She missed her team, which was something she never really thought she'd think, though as they were tied together for life, she never really thought she would have to. Her hands had been absently braiding her hair, leaving her bangs to cover the left portion of her face, something she usually only did before she got into a fight where her long black hair could easily get caught on something. Shilo had been about to put the braided hair up into a bun when she heard the music not far off. She hesitated... she'd left to get away from people, not be around more of them, but she could use a drink.

Shilo didn't often drink, in fact, she usually only drank when there was a mission with a character to play and it was a part of selling the character. She hated feeling buzzed and like she wasn't in control of her mind, but sometimes it was nice to drink just enough that it relaxed her. So, she decided what the hell?

Shilo entered the club, her one good eye glancing over every one, gauging threats and checking faces. To her surprise, she did recognize a few people from the group, but she ignored them for now as she headed over to the bar. "Jamison, neat." Shilo ordered. The bartender only took a few moments with the drink and she tossed a twenty dollar bill on the counter and turned away, non-verbally saying "keep the change." Her eyes scanned the scene once more as she lifted the drink to her mouth, sipping it.
 
Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: Rhysie Rhysie
Mood: Nostalgic/Slightly bored
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Chill/Active Tune

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"It's not that I won't return home. I will eventually, but I don't feel like I should return home so soon." Aoba responded back, staring at the cocktail that only reached halfway of his cup. The ice in his drink started to melt as well. "My hometown had restrictions on oversea travel until recently, and so I want to take the chance to explore the horizons."

What Aoba said was true. Midorijima used to be under the control of Toue Inc., a company that forcefully created Platinum Jail - a gigantic amusement facility to supposedly fulfil people's desires. To everyone who was invited to Platinum Jail, it was a dream place to live. To everyone in the Old Resident District, it was a nightmare. In reality, Toue Inc. wanted to find the key to brainwash people and control their minds so that people can live a comfortable life in lieu of free will. Aoba held one half of this key to such immoral power.

Aoba was a bit saddened by the scarred man's words, but he wanted to at least reassure him even if they're initial interaction was rather shaky. "It's okay, we all have our own personal problems." He clenched his fist as he said those words. "I thought my problems had been solved after I destroyed an entire corporation with a owner obsessed with controlling people's minds. Of course, that wasn't the case. I now have another slew of problems to deal with. I just want a break from it. That's why I wanted to travel."

He wasn't at all phased by Handsome Jack's short anecdote of his horse made out of diamonds. In fact, Aoba found it a bit amusing, and found himself let out a harmless giggle before he realised. "That's an interesting story." Aoba grinned back at Jack. "I used to have my own animal companion. There's a complicated story behind it actually."

Life is indeed a strange entity.


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Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


Jack had been just hit right close to home as to hearing "There's a complicated story behind it" by the Blue-Hair person "What do you mean 'there's a complicated story behind it'? What happened to it?" Jack asked the newcomer, as he had a bit of a few flashbacks when he got reminded of Buttstalion (he's [perhaps] beloved horse) "Talking about companions, I don't even remember what happened to that diamond horse of mine, I feel like I need to see that animal, and have it over with" What a close hit back home, right where it hurts, looks like being a corporate I'm uncultured does hurt at sometime...... only if he could feel what other normal people could feel after being told about having a hard story behind their companions

Mythias Mythias
 

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Handsome Jack
Status: Alive
Inventory: Hyperion Nemesis


Jack had been just hit right close to home as to hearing "There's a complicated story behind it" by the Blue-Hair person "What do you mean 'there's a complicated story behind it'? What happened to it?" Jack asked the newcomer, as he had a bit of a few flashbacks when he got reminded of Buttstalion (he's [perhaps] beloved horse) "Talking about companions, I don't even remember what happened to that diamond horse of mine, I feel like I need to see that animal, and have it over with" What a close hit back home, right where it hurts, looks like being a corporate I'm uncultured does hurt at sometime...... only if he could feel what other normal people could feel after being told about having a hard story behind their companions

Mythias Mythias

Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: Rhysie Rhysie
Mood: Nostalgic/Slightly bored
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: FeelsFeelsFeels

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"Uhhh..." Aoba scratched his head again, feeling pressed by Handsome Jack to answer the latter's question, trying to find the words to explain the complicated story to the scarred man that he had only met today. How on earth do I explain that my old AllMate's had one of my personalities?

"W-Well it isn't exactly an 'animal' per se..." Aoba laughed nervously, still trying to think of the correct choice of words. "It was more of an AI companion in the shape of an animal, called AllMates. They're really popular back at my hometown, though I'm not sure if this city has any of them."

"Turns out that one of my personalities had taken over my AllMate." Aoba continued his mess of a story. It was so much easier trying to explain it to his friends, since they were there when he had found out about Ren's (his AllMate) true nature. "However I only found out after I regained my lost memories awhile back."

Aoba sighed, still at a loss on how to word his anecdote. Why can't I just be a normal person. He facepalmed softly. A few seconds after his facepalming, he said in a reluctant and withdrawn tone, "I don't think you'll get my story even if I explain it in detail."

"And oh that sucks." Aoba blurted out after Handsome Jack revealed that he had lost his Butt-Stallion. "Hope you find that one day."

"If only I was a normal human being, maybe I would've had an easier story to tell." Aoba muttered under his breath, trying to make sure Handsome Jack doesn't hear his whispers, before taking another gulp of his drink that was perspiring outside of the glass.
 
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    Wilson hated parties. That's not to say he didn't appreciate the time and effort spent into providing such events, but... Okay, that's a lie, he really couldn't care less. And honestly? He'd rather not have even been here. But between a world built upon the haunted ruins of an ancient civilisation which spawned horrors hell-bent on making a meal of anyone who entered their territory, and a city of extraterrestrials and complete weirdos... He didn't have much of a choice. Alas, one must make allowances for circumstance--like he once said.
    He tightened the gloves of his elegant, jet-black, three-piece suit, adjusting his crimson cravat and pinstriped waistcoat as he shuffled onto the stool beside Frank.
    "I'll kindly have a pipe and... Perhaps scotch." Ordered the scientist, not shedding the barmaid a single look as he leaned against the counter, observing the seated crowds with a look of... Envy? Something about the utter tranquillity of the scenery made him ponder over the way he'd spent his 30+ years, his starry-eyed pupils giving off a sense of lament.
    "Apologies for my rudeness earlier, I forgot to introduce myself." He shifted in his seat to face the soldier, extending his hand out for a friendly shake.
    "Wilson P. Higgsbury, royal scientist and child prodigy, at your service.


 
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  • Woods leaned back, taking another smoke, as Agent Saga walked through the door without addressing him. He figured she might want her own little space, so instead of moving over to introduce her he nodded towards the girl, which slightly opened a door to interaction with her. He continued smoking up until Wilson came up and introduced himself, prompting the Marine to put the cig back in his mouth to leave his right hand open for a handshake.

    "USMC Master Sergeant Frank Woods- just call me Woods for short," Frank replied as he grabbed Higgsbury's hand with a firm grip. After shaking it, he turned to the Aoba kid, waiting for a perfect opportunity, before replying to the boy too.

    "Like I said, I'm Frank Woods, US Marine. I don't exactly think this Millennium City is affiliated in any way to the United States, though, so I'm more or less outta a job. Just been wandering around," The soldier noted as he turned back to the door, returning to smoking until one of the other three interacted with him.

 
Though CHEF's sudden arrival initially caused the woman to hesitate, it wasn't because of his appearance. Actually, the moment he greeted the party like he knew them, she relaxed, though his question caught her a bit off guard. The surprise wasn't unpleasant, though, and, shortly, her smile returned. "Oui en fait. Ma soeur et moi sommes venus ici il y a de nombreuses années avec notre famille. Je m'appele Henriette." She nodded to him respectfully. "I hear you are something of a chef, then, non?"

Geralt looked over curiously, then nodded. "Yeah, you could say that." He hadn't ever tasted CHEF's cooking, but he didn't doubt that oven could roast something very quickly. Namely a person. "Gotta say, though, it's weird to think of a golem working in a kitchen." Geralt shook his head. "Not used to you even being able to talk, actually." The witcher leaned on the table, his elbows resting against it. It seemed he could only keep so much of his uncouth nature in check.

Henriette, for one, looked appalled, her expression shortly hardening to one of righteous indignation. "It is not very polite, monsieur, to refer to a person with such a crude term as a golem. I apologize, but we at Pocket D do not allow for such behavior. More to it, of course they are allowed to talk. They are as much people as you or me."

The Witcher blinked, once again seeming confused. "That's not what I... oh, nevermind." To his credit, he didn't argue, simply holding his hands up. "Sorry, CHEF."

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The robot watched the young lady react and seemed ready to answer until Geralt began to speak, once again addressing him as a golem. The name seemed to cause the robot pause as if he thought about something from his past. After a long moment, one of his eyes seemed to project an image onto the table in front of him
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"Golem: primarily constructed from stone, and animated by some strange energy not found outside of the planet this unit recorded them on, not unlike those of old stories, powered by arcane sources like magic, or alchemy."
He turns to the Witcher after a long moment and speaks once again "This unit is a highly advanced form of an automaton, based on science rather than arcane means of locomotion. You can refer to this unit and those like it as 'robots' from now on if you should wish." it doesn't seem he was upset by the way Geralt had referred to him, as he understood that the man was from a point in time where his kind did not exist. He had witnessed the man using magic, which was not unheard of back in his universe, but it was certainly not well enough understood to be wielded with the ease Geralt had shown. At least not in CHEF's personal experience.

After a long pause, the image on the table shifted, as something dormant in the machine's files awoke
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The robot remained silent for a long moment, the upward angled image showed just how huge this foe must have been, especially compared to the already very tall robot. "File recovery successful: Colossus"
A short clip played, the image shaking before cutting to a small mountain range, a deep groan could be heard as one of the mountains shifted, before standing up, the dirt heaped on it's back falling back to the earth, boulders falling from its body and turning into the smaller golems seen before. "Ending video playback"

Had CHEF really fought this thing? It didn't seem he'd answer their questions right now, as the video drew to an end, and he seemed to be completely oblivious to what had happened. "Qui, cette unité est un chef hautement qualifié, et est capable de préparer des repas aux normes les plus élevées," he says, addressing the waitress' question at long last "Are you perhaps in need of some assistance?" he asks, glancing down to his suit, and remembering that he'd have to change out of it to cook, but that fortunately he had stored his hat within his chest oven, just in case he may need it.

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Finally, the blue-haired kid spoke up- actually, he had spoken a while ago, but Frank had been more or less zoning out and taking a smoke. He glanced over, watching the boy speak to the corporate bastard, and waited until he had a chance to speak. While he waited, he quietly mulled over what the boy had stated.

A great tourist destination? That could explain some of the many weird-looking folks running about like Millennium was just your average city, but it still didn't fill in the full puzzle- like how Frank had been taken from the Vietnam War to some time where (from what that Chicken Girl said) the war had already finished. It also didn't explain why most of the people at the train station had no idea how they had gotten there.

But from what that Nazi said, the confused group were all apparently supposed to be some kinda "thing this city has always needed". That said, it didn't explain why the (apparently assholish, in Frank's mind) mayor had chosen them of all people- a buncha misfits that probably were inferior to whatever the strongest slash best species was inhabiting Millennium- or how he had gotten the group there without bending some kinda law of realism or whatever.

Unless fucking Kravchenko had something to do with the mayor, Frank doubted he would have been "realistically" whisked to some huge-ass Millennium City that wasn't located on any map, civilian or Black Ops-wise. Same with the others- there currently was no explanation for why there were purple-skinned women and giant robots running amok, and weren't simply people in costumes. No, as of now the idea that any laws of reality were pretty much out the window, replaced by some more fantasy-esque ones- more specifically, that this Millennium was in a different time and place than '68 Earth.

He sighed before taking another puff of smoke, shaking his head to clear out his notions once more. Those trains of thought could be annoying when he was left to his own devices- thankfully, he had his cigar now so he wouldn't necessarily be left exposed to PTSD or whatever fucking mental disease could try to gnaw at him. Plus, the kid had finally stopped talking, so it left him open to an introduction.

"Like I said, I'm Frank Woods, US Marine. I don't exactly think this Millennium City is affiliated in any way to the United States, though, so I'm more or less outta a job. Just been wandering around," the S.O.G. affiliate noted, removing the cigar from his mouth once more with his right hand. He opened his mouth and blew a bit more smoke, which wafted towards the ceiling of the room. While he was at it, he nonchalantly shook the new ashes onto the ash tray nearby. His eyes turned back towards the door once more, somewhat wistfully as though he were going back into a stupor. Of course, that wasn't to say he had completely drifted off- in fact, he was kind of waiting for the other three folks to make their own move. In the meantime, he had gone back to watching the door, a poker face beginning to emerge onto his face instead of the usual frustrated expression that he had.

Aoba Seragaki
Interacting: FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla
Mood: Slightly bored/Relaxed
Ability: SCRAP
Health: Peak
Location: Pocket D
Music: Happy Stuff

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"Hi there Frank." Aoba grinned a little at the militaristic man. "And yeah I'm pretty sure Millennium City is an independent region if I recall correctly."

Aoba scratched his head, trying to remember the information that he had acquired when he was reading about this city back at Midorijima. He had heard all about the city via the internet, who had been calling the city to akin to Platinum Jail, but much safer and no added risk of becoming brain-dead. Of course, Aoba was suspicious about Millennium City considering the analogy that people had been using to describe it, but his curiosity was far more intense than his worries. And thus, before he knew it, he was here, wandering around aimlessly through the city lights.

He then gulped down the rest of his cocktail in one swoop. It tastes rather watery since he wasn't drinking it down fast enough and was distracted by the conversation that he was having with Handsome Jack. Even though the alcohol was extremely watered-down because of the ice melting in his glass, Aoba still ended up feeling a little bit light-headed. The alcohol still went straight through into his body almost immediately. However, he was still able to focus on his surroundings and who he was talking to.

"Out of job?" Aoba tilted his head to signify his confusion. "What happened?" He felt a bit too nosy asking for such a question, but Woods definitely looked way out of place with his rough form and uniform in comparison to the glistening interior and the luxurious atmosphere of Pocket D, so naturally he was curious. Then again, who was he to judge? He wasn't even adhering to the dress code that was set in this club.
 

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