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Realistic or Modern New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides

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weatheringwings

neighborhood alien shut-in
Mizuya Yukito
CS Link
SCENE:
Phoenixes Pre-Arc 3: My New Little Brother That My Sponsor Brought In Is Way Too Cute And I Want To Dote On Him But I Don't Want To Scare Him Because I'm A Cannibal
LOCATION:
Phoenix Headquarters, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raquel Misuteeku Misuteeku , Yukito
My New Little Brother That My Sponsor Brought In Is Way Too Cute And I Want To Dote On Him But I Don't Want To Scare Him Because I'm A Cannibal, 28 May, 2022
Late in the afternoon after he finished some chores at his grandparent's, Yukito came to the Headquarters to, if nothing else, learn the place better. He'd woken up late on the account of the party, sneaking back into his room at an hour he can't even remember. His grandparents were used to him waking up at strange times, sometimes they'd wake him up or let him sleep in. His lunch was made, he should have eaten it, but he'd occupied himself with chores in such a focus that just erased the idea and memory. Thinking about it now though. He'd get something to eat sooner or later.

He wasn't harassed as much as he'd been at the party for being a 'kid' but he was aware that some scrutiny was still there. He was short, didn't care to bring attention to it (never has to), but aware of it. It was nearly unbearable to listen so someone point it out as if it wasn't in so many other instances. Generally when bias surfaced, it could be summed up in exchanges of glares and indignant grunting, an occasionally remark here, there. He saw it was not as prevalent when around Hector, he's probably mentioned or done something on it. He didn't know if he should be grateful for it or irritated. Yukito wouldn't mind knocking a few folks around for it, but being so new and Mizuya family conditioning, he had restrained himself from brawling with what's meant to be a second family. Though he imagines he'll start letting himself become more rough as he gains familiarity.

From his left he hears a red, pink haired woman calling for her little brother. Hm. The place wasn't exactly small, and he wasn't assigned any missions today, though there to see if he could take part in some. Or train. Helping the woman find her brother didn't seem like a setback, and he'd want to know where his family is too. Though as he approached her he wondered if she referred to all as brother and sister, minding the Phoenix's theme it would make sense. "Do you need help finding your little brother?"


 

Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Raquel Filo
SCENE:
My New Little Brother That My Sponsor Brought In Is Way Too Cute And I Want To Dote On Him But I Don't Want To Scare Him Because I'm A Cannibal
LOCATION:
Phoenix Headquarters, South District
Time:
Pre-Arc 3 | ???
PARTICIPANTS:
Raquel, Yukito
My New Little Brother That My Sponsor Brought In Is Way Too Cute And I Want To Dote On Him But I Don't Want To Scare Him Because I'm A Cannibal

Raquel whipped her head around to find the disturber. Who in the hell decided now was a good time to talk to her? Though when she did, she only saw something white. She looked down—small, with hair as white as snow, wearing strange clothing, and cute as a boot. Consider and not like Milo? Her expression immediately changed to a face full of delight and brightness. "There you are, little brother!" She yelled. Without even a moment's notice, she lifted Yukito with extreme ease.

"Oh, myyyy godddd!" How could a person be this cute!? When Hector said he brought in person, Raquel thought he had brought another runt. But no! This was a genuinely cute puppy! Perhaps, she shouldn't judge Hector's taste in people, women in particular.

The red-haired woman spun both of them around. In the process, Raquel accidentally became a whirlwind of destruction. The moment she bumped into an object, she stopped and looked at it. "You're in my way." In one quick movement, Raquel hooked her foot underneath the sofa and tossed it across the room. Nearby, Phoenix's screamed as they moved to avoid the furniture projectile. She then continued to spin around.

"Who knew that Hecty could bring someone as cute as you into the family!" She brought him close for a hug. Ah, he could fit in her embrace like a pillow! To think she wouldn't have a sibling that wasn't Milo now! Yukito was a godsend amongst godsends. Once she was finally satisfied with the amount of physical contact, Raquel set the boy down on the remaining sofa that wasn't flung around.

Everything was a mess. Furniture was destroyed. The walls were dented from multitude of impacts. All the Phoenixes that were in the room vanished. The only people remained were the two of them.

"Where are my manners? My name is Raquel Filo, a Phoenix Veteran. Also, your sponsor sibling." A happy look was apparent on her already gleeful face. "May I presume you to be Yukito Mizuya?"


weatheringwings weatheringwings
 
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YumenoTsukishiro

Senpai will never notice you.
HIRAM ABAYAN
SCENE:
The IT Guy and The Scientist [January 2021]
LOCATION:
[Classified], Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hiram, Ottilie
The IT Guy and The Scientist
A vein nearly popped up on Hiram’s head. He was not about to give up the debate, not when the reputation of his beloved caffeinated beverage was on the line. “And did you know that consuming coffee can lead to an increase in resting brain entropy? Brain entropy is vital to brain function, and high levels point to high processing abilities. An increase in resting brain entropy suggests higher information-processing capacity.

"Caffeine also stimulates the central nervous system by promoting the release of other neurotransmitters, including noradrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin, which all in all leads to increased levels of mental activity. Most importantly, caffeine doesn’t slow the firing of your neurons like adenosine does. Instead, it prevents the adenosine from slowing down neural activity, hence making us more alert and less fatigued during work.”


Hiram blinked. This was the most he’d talked with anyone in a span of two breaths. Never with the other Dragons did so much as string three whole sentences together. It was always about work, about their internet speed, about some blocked websites that he kept warning them about but they still tried to access anyway. Before, Ottilie was merely an interesting prospect for the Azure Dragons, a new recruit that would quickly blend in with all the other Rookies.

Now, he was actually looking forward to working with Ottilie James. Smart, talkative, orange juice loving Ottilie. He firmly shook her hand, sealing the deal with a smile. “Welcome to the Azure Dragons, Ottilie. Now, where do we start on your research?”

Interactions: Saturn_moon Saturn_moon
 

Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Sang-Cheol Man
SCENE:
KAIJU!
LOCATION:
North District, Lab Icarus
TIME:
Pre Arc-3 | April 18th 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Kisara
KAIJU!

Everything was normal at Lab Icarus.

The birds were chirping.

The workers were working.

Sang-Cheol was screaming at the top of his lungs, "KISARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."

An explosion erupted from the lab. Smoke billowed out of the newfound crater within the lab. A strange figure's silhouette could be seen within the smoke. "THIS IS THE LAST TIME YOU'LL TRESPASS ONTO MY LAB WITHOUT MY FUCKING PERMISSION!" Sang-Cheol practically roared from where he stood.

The number of times he and Kisara had interacted was here and there. They were in the same gang, so it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise if they had recognized each other over the years. Kisara reason for going into Lab Icarus was mainly for Raphael. While, Sang-Cheol was relieved that she would take Raphael out of the lab, it pricked his conscious whenever she came in unannounced. Espescially when Raphael wasn't in the lab.

However, the number of actual conversations they had could be counted on one hand. It either went with Sang-Cheol glaring at Kisara from afar or him lecturing Kisara that she needed to make a prior arrangement before heading into the lab.

Kisara's response was to either ignored his lectures or flashed him some stupid expression before proceeding with her day.

Maybe today would have been the same, except Sang-Cheol's temperament got the better of him. As soon as he saw Kisara, all he could see was red. He left immediately afterward, and a few minutes later, an explosion occurred.

This is what led to this moment.

Emerging out of the smoke was Sang-Cheol... wearing a kaiju costume. He figured that the only language Kisara understood was violence.

How he concluded that wearing a kaiju costume would help was beyond anyone at the lab. However, it didn't change the fact he looked somewhat intimidating. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, KISARA. COME OUT NOW!"


 
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Lucem

Ten Thousand Club
Aaron Hayes
CS LINK
SCENE:
Aftermath
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: 2019
LOCATION:
Alleyways, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Aaron, Aristotle, Rebecca, Timothy
AFTERMATH
He limped with a grimace, every step causing waves of pain to shoot up his battered body. With no time to even consider stopping for a rest, he forced himself to keep going, using the surrounding walls for support. If not for them, he probably would have collapsed on the spot.

He was struggling to even keep his eyes open, vision blurry and obscured by the warm blood that leaked from the fresh wounds on his head. He'd been stabbed, shot, and pelted by several Potentials, and it was more than obvious that all of the resulting injuries had taken their toll. If one of his shaky breaths was too deep, he was pretty sure one of his fractured ribs would end up puncturing a lung. He really would've liked to lay down and pass out, letting the cold asphalt lull him to sleep, but the pain helped keep him conscious. That and the torrent of emotions reminding him of why he needed to keep moving.

He was overwhelmed by grief, anger, and shame. With no time to process the myriad of emotions, and with nobody to take them out on, he blamed it all on himself. There were plenty of other people he could've fixated on, and he hadn't forgotten his newly born grudge against the uniformed scum who caused all of this, but he'd already given in to the feeling of self-hatred.

He was supposed to be a leader, but instead of stepping in when he should have, he failed to act. There were so many things he should've done differently, more than he could count. If he had done even one of them, maybe none of that would've happened. Maybe he could've stood in the path of that cop's bullet. Maybe he could've gotten everyone out before another gang showed up to start shit. Because he didn't do any of that, everyone else paid the price.

It all happened so fast, kicking off out of nowhere when the first shot was suddenly fired. There were dead bodies everywhere, so many that he couldn't tell which belonged to his side. All he could do was focus on trying not to let himself or the people still standing end up like them. He split his attention so much that he couldn't keep track of a single thing. He didn't know who ended up in a body bag or in the back of a squad car. All of that was on him.

At the very least, he was certain he got one person out. He forced him to go. For a while there, he thought he may have had to knock Ash out just so he'd stop trying to get himself killed. The only reason that guy even budged was because he swore up and down that he'd be right behind him. At the time, it felt like a lie, something he said just so he could make sure his friend got away safely. However, now that he'd gotten this far, he intended to make good on what he said. He made a promise that he'd catch up, and his word was the only thing he had left. The desire to fulfill that promise was the main thing keeping him going. He only wished it could do something about the pain.

As he struggled, fighting to get even an inch further, his bleary eyes focused on signs of movement in the distance. Near the end of the alley were two figures huddling around what he assumed was a car. In his current state, it was difficult to get a good look at them, and being confronted with the unknown put him on edge. However, he was desperate, and the thought of failing to fulfill his promise was enough to make him set aside his caution.

"Hey..." He called out with his weak, raspy voice, now squinting as he tried to get the attention of the stationary silhouettes. He'd put aside pride and prudence, allowing himself to ask for help if it meant he could make it back to what was left of his home.

"Hey..."


 

Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Goon Squad
SCENE:
Aftermath
LOCATION:
Alleyways, District
TIME:
Pre Arc-1 | 2019
PARTICIPANTS:
Aaron, Aristotle, Timothy, and Rebecca
Aftermath

"Oh, young Timothy, you just don't know life's finer pleasures." Much to his companion's chagrin, a loud bellow escaped from the jolly man. The round man patted Timothy on the back and cleared his throat. "Here, let me give you a sample of the classics." Just as he was about to speak, Timothy shoved his hand onto Aristotle's mouth. The former conductor narrowed his eyes at his colleague.

"Be quiet, Aristotle. Don't you remember we're supposed to be stealthy? Everyone will know we're here if you go loud mouthing your crappy songs." Timothy rolled his eyes. They were camping here for a few hours after Olivine got some leads on a potential fight. The lab was still recovering from the time that Sang-Cheol overtook the lab. Most of the workers were incinerated or suffocated during Sang-Cheol's siege. Now they were here to resupply the lab with new goods.

They had been working all month long on acquiring more people for the lab while making themselves scared in the process. They went everywhere from the North, South, East, and West to find more people. The entire process was tiresome. Every time a fight was expected to break out, they would rush to the location and wait it out. Once the chaos ensued, they tried to 'recruit' more people into the Serpents. Though sometimes, the fights never broke out, meaning they wasted their time doing nothing.

"But, one must hear the song before one can judge. Also there's no risk, nobody is nearby." Aristotle removed Timothy's hand from his mouth. He had a 'know-it-all' look on his face, and a finger pointed up. "Music is like food. You must taste it before you find the deeper pleasures behind it." Continuing from where he left, Aristotle began to let out an unharmonious tune. The sound is so grating that Timothy slowly becomes more frustrated.

The next thing Aristotle would taste was Timothy's skinny fist if he didn't silence himself. "Shut up! Your taste is shit, and your singing is cringe. How many times do I have to tell you that?" There was an exasperated look on Timothy's face as he threw his hands out. "Please! Nobody wants to hear you sing! It's garbage! I read your reviews when you were still a musician in the South. They all gave 1-star reviews."

"Rebecca said she likes it."

"That's because Rebecca is a dumbass!" Timothy yelled back. They went back and forth until they heard something coming from the alleyway's entrance.

"Hey..."

A young adult man with hair as red as blood stood before them. Both Timothy and Aristotle froze as the man continued to walk toward them. It was clear to both that the man was from the fight nearby and was incredibly weakened from it. While both of them should have been gleeful with joy that a random man had offered himself up, the situation was not ideal. The man saw them. He saw the truck. He must be eliminated.

Any trace of emotion quickly disappeared from both faces as they engaged the intruder.

Timothy immediately drew out his gun. It looked similar to an uzi. However, there were several modifications to it. The blonde hair man activated his potentiality. Electricity crackled out of his fingertips, and the gun flared up in the light. The bars lit up, and the batteries buzzed. Timothy clicked the trigger. Multiple bullets of electricity were fired out of the gun.

Aristotle immediately jumped up with impressive strength. Sailing through the air, he threw a fist toward the red haired man. While he would have preferred running at Aaron, that would have interfered with Timothy's line of fire. The alleyway was inconvenient because of its narrow, and not to mention Aristotle's figure was quite large. That meant an attack from above would have to do.

 

Caffeine_Obsessed

Lost: Marbles
HIDE ISHIDA
SCENE:
Hazardous Chance
TIME:
Pre Arc 1- 2019, September 18
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raphael, Hide
HAZARDOUS CHANCE
Hide's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. What the hell was this guy doing?! Was he trying to get them both killed?! With him quietly panicking, he whisper yelled, "What the hell?!" Before he could even think to drag the black haired psycho away, the door slowly creaked open. The scarred boy held his breath, laying his back flat against the wall.

Shit shit SHIT!

A man with a mask and dark hair nearly overcoming his face steps out, being sure to close the warehouse door behind him. He eyes Raphael from head to toe, emotionless, along with the hollowness of his muffled voice. " ..Who are you?..." A tilt of his head.


Pfp idea!.jpg


Still holding his breath, Hide slowly reaches behind himself for his crowbar. Now with the door out of his way, he has a clear shot at this guy's head. The white haired boy lifts his weapon in the air, preparing to strike.


 

Caffeine_Obsessed

Lost: Marbles
Yuto Nishimura
SCENE:
Sir, This is a Hospital
TIME:
Tuesday, September 28th, 2021 || Post Arc 2
LOCATION:
Correspondance Hospital, Lower Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Yuto
Sir, This is a Hospital
With a fearful gulp, Yuto shakily accepted the paper towels from Peyton, quickly wiping his mouth. Throwing the papers to the side, he wiped whatever may be left with his sleeve. He took a hesitant glance over at his friend's condition, guilt written plainly on his face. Then- the words processed. Why did he spit him out? Was Peyton seriously asking him that right now when he was hurt?! Yuto couldn't help but release a dumbfounded chuckle at Peyton's peculiarity.

He whispered, still cautious and remorseful, ".. Because you tasted different... Sweeter" Yuto let a quick smile flit onto his face, "Plus you were hotter.~" He giggled, the smile slowly dropping.

With a gulp, he shuffled closer to Peyton, taking ahold of his injured arm. He avoided the other man's gaze, instead focusing intently on the wound. He nodded silently to Taffy's request. But first... Yuto's jaws opened once more, slowly raising Peyton's arm to his mouth, his grip firm in case he tries to flinch away. With a huff of breath, he let his fangs sink into the bloodied flesh, injecting his venom. Unfortunately it wasn't a numbing venom, but paralyzing was... somewhat the same right? Hopefully...

He lowered Peyton's arm from his mouth, licking his teeth. Yuto reluctantly dragged his eyes to his friend's tearful face. His lips thinned in worry. Yuto wiped some tears off of his cheek with his thumb, slowly stroking beneath his eye.

A release of breath, and he turned his attention back onto Peyton's arm, beginning to wrap his web around it, nearly looking like a cast. Yuto made sure to make it thick enough that blood hopefully couldn't seep through. Once finished, he poked it. A soft smile spread on his face. It was sticky...

Dropping his arm, he gently cradled Peyton's face to his chest, petting his hair. "...I'm sorry.." He spoke softly.


 

Coyote Hart

Misguideful Moniker
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
Peyton Xiong
SCENE:
Sir, This is a Hospital
TIME:
Tuesday, September 28th, 2021 || Post Arc 2
LOCATION:
Correspondance Hospital, Lower Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Yuto
Sir, This is a Hospital
Peyton flinched when he felt Yuto's teeth sink once again into his arm and the familiar paralysis sank into his skin. Thankfully, Yuto's tight grip on him meant that he couldn't accidentally hurt himself on Yuto's fangs. The paralysis helped a little bit in reducing the pain, but the overwhelming sting still remained.

After Yuto finished bandaging Peyton's arm, Peyton buried his face into Yuto's simultaneously sinewy and soft chest, as if hiding within Yuto would provide relief from the pain. His sobs were stifled by Yuto and the embrace he enveloped Peyton in. And slowly and surely, Peyton's crying receded until he got acclimated to the stinging feeling in his arm. But after that, he sheepishly dug his face deeper into Yuto's chest, but even if he could hide his face, his ears were still exposed, and they were bright red with shame. His voice shook as he tried to regain his composure, "A grown man crying because of an injury. Wow, I'm kinda pathetic."

Suddenly, Peyton lifted his head to connect his lips with Yuto's, his tongue bumping into the very teeth that had harmed him. A vague metallic taste entered Peyton's mouth-- probably the remnants of Yuto's meal.

"That's to show you're sorry," Peyton playfully pouted when he broke away from the kiss, a weird sight considering his face was still stained with tears. "Also, did you say that I tasted sexy?"

Peyton found the reasoning that Yuto gave as to why he spat out Peyton to fluster him more than answer his questions, but it had served its purpose. The only real harm done had been to Peyton's pride, not to his body, and with those words, Yuto had mended it.

Peyton poked a finger tenderly at the cast-like bandage of webs that Yuto spun around Peyton's wound. The material stuck to Peyton's finger like glue, almost as if it didn't want to come off. For a moment, Peyton wondered if this was the same webbing that Yuto used to ensnare his prey to devour at a later time. If Peyton hadn't stalemated in the fight against Yuto, would he now be trapped in one of the webs?

It was kinda funny to compare that scenario to now. A few days ago, the pair would have been ecstatic to destroy each other. And now they were snuggled up against each other, afraid to harm one another. Peyton liked it like that. Yuto was sweet, was really good with physical affection, and his energy matched Peyton's. He just hoped that Yuto's feral expressions while they were fighting each other two days ago weren't gone forever. Peyton quite enjoyed them.

"I hope I didn't ruin your appetite," Peyton took a look over at Yuto's half eaten meal, "Or that tasting me makes them taste bland in comparison~"

Taking a look at Yuto, Peyton suddenly realized that his sobbing had taken its toll on Yuto's outfit. Yuto's shirt was now wet and saturated. Dejectedly, Peyton remarked, "Oh no... your clothes."

Caffeine_Obsessed Caffeine_Obsessed
 

Coyote Hart

Misguideful Moniker
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
Gideon Gray
SCENE:
Do the Dew
LOCATION:
Phoenix Headquarters, South District
TIME:
Post Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Gideon, Raquel
Do the Dew
"Do I have to?" Gideon asked, his voice cracking under stress. This torture session was ending up tormenting both Mr. Barlo and Gideon. Gideon didn't want to hurt anybody. He didn't want to make Mr. Barlo produce the same screams that Raquel was easily coaxing out of him. But this was also his duty as a Phoenix, so Gideon apprehensively filled a full of the acid yellow soda.

"If you just told us what we wanted, I wouldn't have to do this," Gideon said, trying to inject as much malice as possible into his remorseful and nervous words.

Gideon took a deep breath. It wasn't that difficult. In fact, he could even try to derive a bit of enjoyment from this interaction. If he was ever going to arrive at the same level of villainy as Zulin and Raquel, he was going to need to master these acts of torture as well as derive some enjoyment from them. He could do this. He got this.

"Tilt his head back for me," Gideon commanded Raquel with resignation in his voice. He lifted the watering can and began to sprinkle soda onto the cloth until it was completely saturated, then he continuously poured the soda on Mr. Barlo's face, directed specifically at the nose.

The results were almost immediate. Mr. Barlo seized up, his arms and legs convulsing as they instinctively tried to claw free from the drowning sensation. A gagging and sputtering noise came from Mr. Barlo's mouth. Gideon almost wanted to immediately stop. He could imagine what Mr. Barlo was feeling. As the carbonated soda ran down his airway, the bubbles also caused a stinging sensation. And every time Mr. Barlo tried to suck in air, the soaked towel filament over his mouth and nose would prevent any air from entering, only soda.

After half a minute or so, Gideon put the watering can down on the ground and pulled the cloth down Mr. Barlo's face so that he had a chance to breathe and talk. Mr. Barlo took several heaving breaths followed by a bout of body-wracking coughing. It felt good that Gideon could stop watching Mr. Barlo gag and writhe.

"Now will you talk?" Gideon asked. There was a fearful look in Mr. Barlo's eyes, and Gideon wasn't sure what to feel about it. On one hand, it felt great to have control over someone. On the other hand, he felt quite guilty about all this. "Tell us. What did you leak?"

"S-some of the bank accounts we used for money laundering!" Mr. Barlo exclaimed, "And the passkeys to some of the chatrooms that we use!"

That wasn't good. Gideon frowned. All of a sudden, any sort of power dynamic that was in play was far less relevant to the situation at hand. Instead, the goal was now to figure out what sort of damage had been caused to the Serpents due to Mr. Barlo's actions.

"To who?" Gideon demanded, his voice's inflection severe, "Who did you send these to?"

Mr. Barlo fell silent, and Gideon hissed a breath of dissatisfaction. Why did he have to make things so difficult? Gideon pulled the cloth back over Mr. Barlo's head and mentally prepared himself to pour more soda on the man. To buy himself more time to prepare himself, he turned to Raquel and asked, "Are you just going to watch? I would have coined you someone who enjoys this more than someone like me. Do you want to take over? Perhaps you would be more effective at extracting information from him."

Misuteeku Misuteeku
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Stranger's Gold
TIME:
29th January 2022, Pre-Arc 3
LOCATION:
Starstreak Arena, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park, Hector Moses
Stranger's Gold
The concert hall was still buzzing with life. The show had just concluded, and an air for fanatical glee hung thick in the air. The concert grounds were lit with conversation, strangers who would've usually never given one another the time of day united by their shared experience. New relationships were being forged, some that would expire before the end of the night, and others that'd spiral off and endure for years to come.

It was good to know that she still had her touch.

After the incident that had almost ruined her homecoming show, every event that Passeri hosted in New Oasis had brought with it a spark of worry. Fanatical fans and seething haters aside, the deeper she delved into the Tigers' business, the deeper the risk of her incurring the wrath of one of the city's countless gangsters grew. Not to mention the fact that the aforementioned incident had also set the police on her tail. As things stood, she liked to think that she had the situation handled, but if she was the kind of woman who counted her chickens before they hatched, then she would've had her career ended by some amateur tabloid reporter years ago.

As long as that laundry list was, though, none of it was why she was nervous. Not tonight. She'd been testing her luck a lot more than was characteristic of her recently, but this really took the cake. The number of backs she was slinking behind, and the amount of spotlights she was risking the attention of if this was sour were innumerable, but this wasn't the sort of chance that she could pass up.

"He'll be there in a minute!" One of her employees, not one whose name she could recall by voice alone, spoke, their voice spilling out of the tiny earpiece nestled in Passeri's ear. Quite a few the staff knew that she was expecting company, and had been briefed to show him as good a time as possible, but none of them knew just who that they were wining and dining.

The Phoenix Queen. Passeri could still hardly believe it.

She liked to keep an eye on her fan communities, but even then, it was only by blind chance that she'd been made aware of just who had been managing her following on the world's most condescending message board. Of all of the images that could have been passed up through her ladder of PR representatives, a drunken selfie certainly should not have been one of them, but it was only thanks to that lapse of judgement that she'd managed to dredge this chance up out of the ocean of adulation and nonsense that her online communities normally were.

It had been easy enough to set things up from there. 'Community Appreciation' is what she'd had her people call it, and within the day an email had been drafted and sent, awarding one Hector Moses with an all-access pass to her next show under the grounds of a heartfelt thank you for the work he'd put into his corner of her fanbase.

The door creaked, and Passeri's expression turned bright as she stood up from the U-Shaped couch that acted as the lounge's centrepiece.

"At last! It's so nice to finally meet you!" Her voice beamed as vibrantly as it ever did at any of her meet-and-greets, or tv appearances. "I hope you enjoyed the show! Please take a seat, get comfy! I'm sure we'll find tons to chat about~"

FangS31 FangS31
 
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Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Raquel Filo
SCENE:
Do The Dew
LOCATION:
Phoenix Headquarters, South District
Time:
Post-Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Raquel, Gideon
Do The Dew

"GYAHAHAHAHAHA. DO YOU FEEL IT? DO YOU FEEL THE MOUNTAIN? THE DEW?" Raquel cackled as she tilted Mr. Barlo's head for Gideon. The sounds coming from Mr. Barlo's mouth were exotic to Raquel's well-trained ears. It was like hearing a canopy of birds singing in a valley. Only replace the canopy of birds with the screams of the anguished. The veteran relished in the agony that was being inflicted on Mr. Barlo.

Unfortunately, Gideon seemed to have enough and interrogated Mr. Barlo further. "Aw, no fun." Raquel pouted to herself.

With Gideon taking the helm, Mr. Barlo would be able to speak. It wasn't like she could suddenly sock the man right before Gideon. It would be highly disrespectful to take Gideon's turn away from him. She couldn't take all the fun for herself after all. "Money laundering? What a waste of time." Raquel taunted Mr. Barlo for his choice of actions. To some, money can buy anything. Raquel, couldn't use the money to buy people. It was pretty unfortunate.

Though as Mr. Barlo continued to talk, Raquel's frown became bigger and bigger. What a predicament. Not only was this guy a traitor, but he was also incompetent. Raquel unknowingly dug her nails into Mr. Barlo's head, earning her a scream in pain. "Well, you'll have to remember a little harder." Placing her face right next to Mr. Barlo's face, she smiled. Though she looked surprised when Gideon started to tell her, she should have more initiative.

"Me?" Raquel exclaimed. For a start, Raquel was impressed with Gideon. Was HE going to boss HER around? It took a minute for Raquel to process. She had multiple options to pick from. Her first option was to be all blushy and say some provocative words. Another was to challenge Gideon and assert herself over him. Though if he was being genuine. "Well, alright," Raquel smirked at Gideon. The woman went up to the back and grabbed something.

When she returned, Raquel held a bowl with a red liquid and some chunks of matter. "You have a wife, or at least a girlfriend, right? Mr. Barlo?" Raquel smiled at the man. The man immediately paled. Moving the bowl closer to Mr. Barlo, Raquel wanted to make sure he saw it. "Well, here's your wife! Or at least some woman you might know." Raquel grabbed the struggling man by the chin and used her finger to open up his mouth. "This will be a good appetizer before we get back to the main course. Bottoms up."


Coyote Hart Coyote Hart
 

Caffeine_Obsessed

Lost: Marbles
NIKOLAI NOVAK
SCENE:
Down Diabolical
TIME:
1:25 AM || October 2nd, 2019 || Pre-arc 1
LOCATION:
Novak's Decrepit Mansion, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Nikolai, Ruthe
DOWN DIABOLICAL
Nikolai furrowed his brows, suddenly perplexed. Was there... something beside him? He may just be imagining it- but it felt like something other than himself was leaning on his bed- the ivory haired man's eyes shot open, suddenly feeling something cold and metallic brush against his skin. Did someone break in?! Was he being attacked?! That couldn't be anything other than a weapon... where were his few incompetent guards?! He swore- if they were slacking off just because its so late at night-

ₙ ᵢ ₖ ₒ ₗ ₐ ₐ ₐ ₐ ₐ ᵢ ᵢ ᵢ ᵢ ᵢ. . .

He gulped. Oh.. this wasn't just any other intruder... Body now stiff, he slowly turned his head to look at the very being who kept him awake at night. And not in a good way.

He blinked, still frozen. With wide eyes, he inhaled sharply, springing up into a sitting position. "RUTHE?! FOR FUCK'S SAKE HOW DID YOU-" he bit his tongue. As fiery as his personality was, he knew better than to anger this woman. Despite being pretty sure he had never truly brought upon her wrath before, what he knew of her, and what he has seen was enough to deter him away from acting so carelessly.

Or so he tried.

With a deep breath outward, he composed himself. His faux frigid personality shining through despite it being so late at night. He glanced towards his windows, noting it was still dark outside. Not any hint of the morning orange light peeking through. Shit... He had no idea how long she would stay for this time... He couldn't exactly kick her out either. Even though he dearly wanted to.

His eyes snapped onto Ruthe, not allowing those thoughts to come up again. For some reason, it felt like sometimes she could read his mind. He inwardly shivered. Clearing his throat, he gently placed his hands on his lap, overly conscious now of his lack of gloves. "Ahem... what um.. what are you doing here.. Again. So late at night?" Don't you have a home to fucking sleep in.

Along with awaiting a response, he quickly got out of bed, going over to his stereo to stop it, taking off the disc and placing it beside the player. Turning to face Ruthe, he leaned back, arms supporting him on the table behind him. His finger tapped anxiously on the wooden desk.




 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
The Punchline
TIME:
February 12th, 2016 || Roland's Reign
LOCATION:
The Precipice
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park, Charmy Delvin
The Punchline
Passeri's constructs flashed under the weight of Drip's blows. She danced about the stage, constantly backpedalling, always in retreat, and Drip pursued her in equal pace. Her sparse array of constructs, which she'd poured all but the very last of her store of energy into, swivelled around her, dashing the man's blows and blocking his advance, but she was making no ground of her own. There was only so long this could last. Eventually, she'd make an error. Eventually, her barriers would shatter.

She grimaced as another of Drip's swings went wide, but a stray spray of his blood splattered across her hood, and sizzled lightly.

"We can make this easy, you know." Drip spoke, not relenting in his advance. "I get in a good punch, and you go down easy. That way we can avoid any..." He glanced at the light smattering of his blood that already stained her clothes, slowly but surely poking holes into the thick, purple fabric. "...Unnecessary scarring."

Then came another blow, hard and heavy. Her barrier flashed, this time more violently, and then erupted in an instant, shattering into nothing. That would've been a good moment, Passeri thought, for her to take a dramatic dive and play along with the man's plan, but something in her mind resisted. So long as she walked out of here in one piece, she didn't have much riding on this match, and as for her reward? All she had to look forward to was some amorphous favour from a woman she could only call capricious.

But the way the crowd jeered, the way this man was looking down on her, the way that woman had looked at her like a ball of yarn?

It ticked her off.

Drip pushed his advantage, his fist careening straight through the shattered barrier and toward's Passeri's head. That could've, maybe even should've, been it, but he'd been a hair to slow, and she just a bit too agile. At the last moment, her body twisted, and his blow only caught her shoulder, though the blow was still hard and heavy. Unlike the rest of his strikes, though, it had not been free.

The remaining three of Passeri's constructs flew fast, careening around her and directly into Drip's gut. The blows came fast and with force, sending the man reeling and affording Passeri the first moment of repose she'd had since their fight had begun.

Drip coughed, laughed, and applauded.

"Not bad." His voice, though, was as dry as ever. "Thought you'd spend the whole fight with your tail between your legs." He was hoping that she would too, honestly. He hated it when he had to do things the hard way.

Passeri, for her part, remained as silent as ever. She had distance now, and that was where she held the advantage. She snapped her fingers, and two of her constructs flew across the arena, turned from barriers into instruments of blunt force.

Drip, though, was no fool. This wasn't his first time fighting somebody with projectiles, and he already knew that they could be broken. He dodged and weaved through the two constructs as they swung at him in arcs, until he found his moment. One drew in, and then he struck hard, meeting it head-on. His knuckles split from the impact, but the construct split in turn, exploding into nothing. The second construct, to Passeri's credit, did not miss a beat, striking him square in the back of his head, but it still wasn't enough to put the man down.

"That's half." He grinned, now crossing the arena with relative ease, with Passeri's assault cut in half.

He came in a dash, breaking past Passeri's projectile, which she still had desperately harrowing him. His fist, now coated in his own blood, sizzled against her barrier as he crashed into her with all the force of a full-bodied sprint, pushing both it and her back. Her projectile swung again, catching him across the shoulder, but it only served to send another rivulet of his blood wide, splattering across her jacket and causing one of her sleeves to part fully, dropping to the ground.

Passeri winced. A last, lucky few drops had made it through the gaps as the sleeve had fell. Her skin sizzled hot. Her projectile returned to her side, dancing with its twin as it returned to a defensive function. He was back on the assault now, each of his strikes bringing her barriers closer to breaking. Her time was running out. The crowd was swelling with excitement, and she could tell from the dull absence of energy in her body, it was not for her.

"Last chance." Drip's voice was low now, drowned out by the crowd for all but the two of them. "It's been a good show, I'm sure the boss lady will let you off with a smack on the cheek."

There it was again. A flash of irrationality ran through Passeri's veins. Even in the moment she could recognize how little she had to lose, and how much she had to gain, and yet-

"I'll pass." She spoke, finally and plainly, her voice dripping with the characteristic defiance that she'd inherited from the North. Drip only sighed in response, and brought his fist down again. Another of her barriers shattered. She only had one more shot.

She could only slow his attacks now. Some she'd catch with her barrier, and others she'd dodge nimbly, but her safety net was officially gone. The odd blow caught her, first barely, and then more and more closely. Her arm, her shoulder, her gut, she huffed with pain as each of his strikes crashed into them. His blood mingled with hers, searing with an especially sharp fury, and he pushed her back all the while. Before she knew it, she was cornered.

The crowd was in a frenzy now, and her body had started to feel dull. Pain was being washed away by exhaustion, but there was still something there. One final spark of energy that she'd kept tucked away and safe. Her barrier was flickering now, just barely clinging to the physical world, and Drip could tell. He swung hard and fast, the intent to end the fight there and now loaded into his fist, but when he should've crashed into the barrier, he instead met nothing.

The final construct vanished, but not violently and in a burst as the others had. It had been dispelled. Drip's fist, which he'd been expecting to meet resistance, swung too fast and went wide, just as Passeri had hoped.

She moved fast. This was her first and only chance. Her palm caught Drip by the chest, clapping into him as the momentum of his own strike carried him into her range, and then the last of her energy was spent. There was a flash of pink, a thick, fierce spray of blood, and then there was a vibrant, neon blade protruding from the other side of Drip's chest. Straight through the heart.

"Shit..." Drip groaned, stumbling back as a slow, grim realization dawned on him. "Wasn't expectin' that..."

He coughed, laughed, and the moved to applaud... But dropped to the ground instead.

For a moment, both Passeri and the crowd sat in stunned silence, before they erupted into the loudest rancour of cheers yet. For the first time that night, she felt her Potential's energy begin to replenish within her, but there was no sense of pride of triumph that came with it.

Had she really just done that? She shuffled forward, regarding Drip's fresh corpse with cold, clinical eyes. There was a pang of something in her chest, but she wasn't sure what. This night had certainly not gone that way she'd expected it to.
 

Uasal

The Swiftest Shot In The West
Jennifer Weber
SCENE:
A Valentine Emergency
LOCATION:
Central District, Weber Estate, Main House
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Jennifer, Ji-Young
A Valentine Emergency



Jennifer was never one for romance, in fact up until last week the concept of Valentine's day was lost on her in its entirety. Jennifer had never baked in her life, cooking in and of itself was an art she struggled with so needless to say she had never made Valentine's chocolates for anyone in her lifetime. Just as well too, such an event likely would have led to a slow and painful death via poisoning. Unintentionally of course but all the more tragic as a result. Jennifer had however received such gifts many times in her life, never really having understood the happiness and giddiness it brought her friends. To Jennifer, it was a token of interest sure but the chocolate was just chocolate? You could buy it by the box at pretty much any store, so why did it make her friends so happy to receive it from a guy they hardly knew? That however was the old Jennifer. The current Jennifer was in the middle of having a mental breakdown as a result of her numerous catastrophic failures in attempting to make her own chocolate hearts.

Why the sudden change? Well, it was simple, last week Markus had in passing mentioned he was a fan of chocolate and was looking forward to valentines day for that very reason. Now Markus at no point mentioned he was looking forward to chocolates from Jennifer and in all likelihood meant the sales that followed Valentine's day but to Jennifer, this was a chance she couldn't miss! Having tried her best with what she could find online the past week straight Jennifer was now quickly beginning to run out of options. She had to act quickly and decisively and as such she would have to call in a favour. There was no other way around it. This was due or die! And so Jennifer sent off a text to the one person she knew might be able to help in this situation- Camila. Inviting along Ji-Young too so as to not be left alone in such an embarrassing ordeal.

Once each of the two arrived at the estate gates they would be escorted to the main house and directed toward the kitchen where they would Find Jennifer, clad in a mess of an apron with eyes dark from sleep deprivation. "you guys have to help me! I'm running out of time!"

1671681929560.png

Note:
Located within the Central District the Webber Ancestral Complex sticks out like a sore thumb. Sitting between the densely packed cityscape the Webber estate is akin to a natural park, though private property and with a rather large manor sitting at its centre. Beautiful stretches of garden separate the Webber Home from the main office building as well as the factory and storage space. Though still private property the Webber estate sports a sizable forest area and floral garden near the front gate that is open for public use as a park, with a monument dedicated to those who lost their lives in the mines all those years ago. Likewise, the Webber tomb is located beneath this monument and secured against entry unless a burial is taking place.
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Roda the Red Roda the Red YumenoTsukishiro YumenoTsukishiro
 
Passeri Park
SCENE:
Midnight Reminder
TIME:
October 21st, 2016
LOCATION:
Passeri's Apartment, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri Park, Eun Ji-Young
Midnight Reminder
It had been a long day.

There had been countless hours of recordings and rerecordings, intermingled with countless more spent in negotiations. More promises, bidding for a bit more time, schmoozing who needed to be schmoozed, haggling who needed to be haggled. It had become normal for her now, but it was nonetheless exhausting. Her body ached, her throat stung, and her mind was weary.

Metal clinked against ceramics, and in the corner of the room, a microwave hummed neatly. Even if she'd had the time for it, Passeri had never been much of a cook, so an evening spent with a pre-made meal like this was a familiar one. Of course, it wasn't just anything that she was serving herself. It'd taken her almost a week to pick the meal-delivery service that had the nearest-to-perfect combination of vitamins and nutrients that she'd been looking for, and even longer to convince her creditors that it was, in fact, an essential part of her business.

The microwave beeped blithely as the timer hit zero. She moved over to it drowsily, scooping the plastic container held therein out of the well-worn piece of cookware with all the care she could muster, and then leaving it to rest atop her counter for the few, mandated minutes it took for it to approach a temperature that would not scorch the inside of her mouth.

For now, she fussed elsewhere. Her dining table, which also happened to serve as her office space, was messily divided into two halves. One was neat, marred only by the knicks and scrapes in the wood that had come as part of design, as far a the secondhand piece of furniture was concerned, and the other was strewn with a chaotic sprawl of letters and paperwork. To anybody else, it would've appeared as just that, but to Passeri, they were an ocean of timers, each ticking down, each a resource to be spent in the placation of another. Balls. She saw those too. An array of bright, carnival-coloured which she was juggling without end.

Talk about stressful!

The sound of the microwave was replaced by the blabbering drone of a tv. Flickering on, as was Passeri's preferred default, came the news, some well-suited broadcaster already halfway through listing the day's relevant events. More robberies. Another suburb claimed by the Phoenixes' rampant expansion. More promises that this time, it would be different. That this time, whatever scheme the city council was pitching would work. That whatever initiative the police force was taking would make a difference. The usual fare.

She fiddled aimlessly amongst her ocean of paper with one half of her brain, and listened in on the television with another. Even if it was always this, always more of the same, she still liked to pay attention. It helped keep her grounded, she thought. A reminder of why she'd mired herself in this endless web of intricacies in the first place.

As the broadcast cut to advertisements, Passeri rose from her seat and returned to the kitchen. She took her meal, now cooled, and scooped it onto a plate, then set about boiling a jug of water before she returned to her couch to enjoy her meal for the night.

Click, went the plastic switch of her kettle, and then, ding-dong went the electronic chime of her doorbell. Her head went over her shoulder, and her brow furrowed. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, had she?

Ding-dong. The door chimed again.

"Coming!" She yelled, an inch of confusion clear in her voice. The door, a plain, beige slab, loomed at the mouth of her apartment. It was times like these that she wished she'd sprung for an apartment with a peephole.

Metal jingled as she slid the flimsy, thin door chain into place, and then opened the door with a hesitant slowness. Vibrant, pink eyes peered out of the gap, and into the darkness of the night, creased with suspicion.

"Are you a neighbour?" She spoke, doing her best to veil her concern behind a pert, welcoming sheen. "If you're looking to borrow some sugar and eggs, I don't have any, sorry! I'm not much of a chef~" She smiled the same sort of smile she did while prying an extra month or three out of her creditors' fat, clammy hands. "Sorry!"

 
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Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
RAMPAGING GIANT
SCENE:
Dissonant Ichors
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: December 21, 2020 -- Dusk
LOCATION:
Alleyway, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Darius, Shen, Raph
DISSONANT ICHORS
STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

The sound was like thunder. Every step, charging, thrashing.

Crush, stomp, kill.

Thousands of kilograms of muscle and meat broke through a nearby stone wall like it was tissue paper, sending rocks, dust, and debris hurtling through the air.

STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.

The mad giant loomed large, shouldering his way between the two adjacent rooves of the alleyway. He was, up until now, of single-minded purpose.

The hands at his tether had given him a task and promised him freedom in return. Freedom from pain. Freedom from his shackles.

Find. Kill. Crush.

Beady, black eyes found a pair of puny bodies in his path. Not his targets, but they would make for fun ants to squash. He raised one massive, bare, mutated foot.

A deep, low voice like a foghorn rumbled in his breast.

“CRUUUUSH...”

He let his foot fall.

 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
MILO NAGISA
SCENE:
A Pleasure To (Not) Meet You
LOCATION:
Pre-Arc 3 |
LOCATION:
Raquel's Warehouse, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raquel, Milo
A PLEASURE TO (NOT) MEET YOU
Milo didn't like Raquel. She was crazy like Hector was crazy, but at least Hector didn't look at him like he was sizing him up for a meal. At least, Milo didn't think so. When he'd gotten a directive to meet Raquel, his so-called "sister"—what a joke—he'd had more than half a mind to refuse out of hand. Gangs were much more of a social club than he'd realized before he'd joined, back when he was an outsider staring in, searching for weaknesses.

In any event, he was here now, wherever here was. Raquel seemed to be busying herself with her appearance, and so rather than disturb her right away, he took in a bit of his surroundings. It appeared a normal warehouse... Normal enough, anyway. His definition of what was 'normal' seemed to be slipping further and further away as the days dragged on. Still, he couldn't escape the sense that something was off. He'd felt that way ever since he'd agreed to come along, which was why he hadn't come empty-handed. His sketchpad was filled to bursting with... Contingencies.

He cleared his throat to get Raquel's attention, and was suddenly accosted by the smell of something rank. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him or not. After all, he knew—had been warned—who Raquel was. What she was.

His cleared throat led to a short fit of coughs before he got his senses under wraps. Seeing the teaset and the chairs, he instead chose to stand. "You wanted to see me."

He stated. Formal. Cold. All business.

The sooner he could get out of here the better.


 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
RAPHAEL SHAW
SCENE:
Omnia et Vanitas
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 || May 2021
LOCATION:
Lab Icarus, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raphael, Kisara
OMNIA ET VANITAS
Raph, wriggling his way free of her vice-like grip, pantomimed nonchalance. He made a rather big fuss about inspecting his nails as she went on about how he was her fourth favorite—a fact that did not sting at all, thank you very much—before launching into a tirade, that may have been either pre-scripted or off the cuff (he could never tell with her what wasa the act and what was the truth).

"Oh? Have time for me today, do we? ~" He said at last as he looked up from his 'manicure'—an uneven file-job that left much to be desired. "And where is your beau? Too busy for you, I see. I suppose that'll happen now that he's the Big Man on campus." Every word was dripping with disdain, though he had to give Kisara credit where it was due. He rarely saw any of his barbs stick. She was like, an amoeba. Everything just bounced right off. Raph was loath to admit that he... Admired her indomitable nature, false or otherwise.

"I don't care what we do, so long as I am away from these—" he gestured grandly at the good, little labcoats mulling about, paying him a practiced amount of inattention. They had learned. "... People." He said at last with a hint of disgust, and of envy. One of them made the unfortunate decision to wave as they passed by. Raph returned the gesture with a rude gesticulation of his own before turning his attention fully toward Kisara.

"Well then, shall we?"

And away they went.


 

Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Raquel Filo
SCENE:
A Pleasure To (Not) Meet You
LOCATION:
Raquel's Warehouse, South District
Time:
Pre-Arc 3 |
PARTICIPANTS:
Raquel, Milo
A Pleasure To (Not) Meet You


Somehow just by looking at Milo’s face made Raquel feel even more irritated.

“So you’re, Milo?” Raquel looked at him up and down. As an appreciator of human food, Milo didn’t seem anything special. There was not much fat and not much muscle either. In short, he looked average. Well, other than the greying hair. Maybe she should direct him to Spellbinder. Spellbinder seemed great at preventing hair loss if he had grey hair all the time.

If Raquel was concealing an displeasure, she made it very obvious that she was judging him. From the sound of his footsteps to the way he breaths. There was something about him that, she just wanted to rip apart.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” Suddenly her expression shifted. From an irritated look to a expression filled with amicability. Raquel to get to know Milo. After all, Hector recruited him, so there must something interesting to discover about him. Despite, Hector’s taste in woman, his taste in men must be better, surely.

“Take a seat and drink some tea.” Raquel offered. “I don’t know what exact blend it is, but it’s nothing harmful.” Her offer was a token to friendship. They were both in the same gang and belonged to the same sponsor. “Though unfortunately I don’t have any snacks, not that you’d be able to eat them anyways.”

Leaning backing on her chair and crossing her legs, she smiled at Milo. “As brother and sister now, we should get to know each other, no?”


Elenion Aura Elenion Aura
 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
RAPHAEL SHAW
SCENE:
Why Not?
TIME:
Post Arc-1 | September 25th 2021
LOCATION:
North District, Lab Icarus
PARTICIPANTS:
Raphael, Sang-Cheol
WHY NOT
Raph laughed, mirthlessly.

“I vaguely recall that it was you who set that fire, darling." He sighed and stared off into space, fondly recalling the sounds of screaming. “And it was funny." When Sang-Cheol directed him to sit, Raph did so, but not before making a rude gesture with his middle finger in his fellow Serpent's face. As Sang-Cheol went about his business, rummaging in his drawers for the right tool for the job—the thought made Raph's lip quirk in half-amusement—the boy made a half-baked attempt at entertaining himself. He swung one leg over the other and let his foot bounce in time with his own heartbeat until Sang-Cheol returned.

“Problems?" Raph asked in a voice that was pretending to be genuine. He made his eyes wide and formed a thoughtful 'o' with his lips. “Hm... Problems. Let me think..." He tapped a finger against his chin. “Well, since you asked, there's this dreadful parasite clinging to me. It's on me right now, actually. Touching me with its grubby little hands."

When Sang-Cheol asked him to lift his shirt, Raph did as he was told. “It really is the most dreadful, spineless, cowardly—ah, that's cold, darling. You could've warned me first," Raph said, looking down at his own exposed abdomen. Remembering his running joke, Raph went on. “As I was saying... You wouldn't have anything to help me with this parasite, would you? Ugh, it's looking me right in the face, now. It's hideous! And those glasses, really, they aren't doing it any favors. No wonder it's never had a girlfriend ~" The last part he cooed in a whimsical, sing-song way as he let his shirt fall.

If this was to be painful for him, he'd make sure that it was painful for everyone involved.


 

Misuteeku

The One Who Tries
Sang-Cheol Man
SCENE:
Why?
LOCATION:
North District, Lab Icarus
TIME:
Post Arc-1 | September 25th 2021
PARTICIPANTS:
Sang-Cheol, Raphael
WHY

“I see. That sounds quite a problem” Sang-Cheol said but he did not continue, nor provide a solution to Raphael’s problem.

It was quite clear to Sang-Cheol to what Raphael was getting at. Stepping a few steps away by walking backwards, Sang-Cheol made the oddest 90 degree turn and went back to finding the blood drawer. All the while sweating enough to make the shirt underneath his lab coat damp.

He internally reflected on what Raphael had said to him. We’re his hands small? Looking at them right now, he thought they were at least average for a human male. His hands were bigger than Timothy’s but smaller than Aristotle’s fat ones. Then again prior to being recruited, Timothy didn’t exactly have a balanced diet. “Are my hands small?” He muttered to himself.

Though the part about him being spineless and cowardly was untrue. Only when it came to him, and sometimes an angry Snake and Boss, that he acted this way.

Though girlfriend? That part was true, he did have a girlfriend. Mimi was his girlfriend. Well at least Sang-Cheol hoped they were. They sometimes talked to each other when their paths crossed, and he even gave her new brands of drugs. The only thing that didn’t make them official was the ring and contract. With those, they’d make their friendship much more solid.

Sang-Cheol accidentally pricked his hand on the needle in his thoughtless reasonings. Picking it up the blood drawer a few sanitizer pads, he went back to Raphael.

After staring at Raphael for approximately two minutes, Sang-Cheol spoke. “…Please extend your arm forward, so I may insert the device in.”


 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
RAPHAEL SHAW
SCENE:
Carmine Consort
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 || 2017
LOCATION:
Outside of Chaturunga Taphouse, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Raphael, Peyton
CARMINE CONSORT
The corner of Raph's mouth quirked at the sight. And what a sight it was. Peyton knelt there, hip-deep in gore, before him. Beneath him. Perfect, sublime supplication. He felt something that might've been his heart stir. His soul was singing two discordant melodies, now. Before long, one of them would have to win out, lest he be torn in two by the two violent contradictions.

“Oh." He said at last, feeling a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and... Something else. Oh.

“Hmph! You certainly know how to kill the mood, if nothing else." His voice held a practiced ease, a certain nonchalance, but his body was rigid as a young tree, every muscle was ridged with tension. After a short deliberation, the second song triumphed, and his bloodlust, and all that went with it, abated, retreating to a quiet, dark corner of his mind. To wait.

“Fine, fine," Raph relented at last, waving a dismissive hand in the air as he turned his back on the kneeling boy. “You win. Keep your pathetic life; after all, it's worth something to you, and nothing at all to me. ~"

His words, though harsh, somehow didn't bite as hard this time. He was just keeping up appearances, as he tried to wrestle with what these new thoughts were telling him.

“In any case, we should go," he added, turning to look over his shoulder expectantly. They had arrived together, and apparently Raph had decided in that moment that they would be leaving this place together, too.

“Everything here worth killing is already dead."


 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
MINATO MAEDA
SCENE:
"Two" is Company
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1, July 20th 2021
LOCATION:
Camila's Apartment, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Minato
"TWO" IS COMPANY
While Camie worked, Mina's face was buried... In his phone. He was reading some reports... Whether they were for work, pleasure, or otherwise was anyone's guess. Still, his eyes had a glazed over look about them that suggested that he wasn't absorbing the words on the screen so much as he was letting his eyes slowly trail the direction of information flow as his thumb dragged the report from top to bottom.

A loud Ding! interrupted his mindless scrolling, as a message came through to his phone from a contact named only with the smiling imp emoji

😈
them
Hey cutie 😘
them
Whatcha up to tn?

Grinning to himself, Minato peered into the kitchen at Camila hard at work preparing their meal. He swiftly stroked out a response and sent the text before he slipped the phone into his pants pocket, but not before he silenced any potential follow-up messages... Especially considering the likely contents therein.

He took a long whiff of the air and sighed a contented sigh.

”Somethin' smells downright scrumptious over there.”

Camie knew him well enough to ward off his first foray with his fork until she'd put on the finishing touches. He shot her a wide, cheeky grin. This was going to be good.

He took his first big bite, chewed it, and gulped it down... Now, for the moment of truth, he locked eyes with her across the table.

Slowly, slowly... He lifted his thumb up. A perfect ten.

”Mmf... S'good, babe.” He said with a mouthful of pasta. His second of the meal, but certainly not his last.


 

Elenion Aura

One Thousand Club
MASKED BANDIT "M"
SCENE:
Late-Night Chase
TIME:
Nighttime, post-arc 1
LOCATION:
Aksher Co. offices, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Minato Masked Bandit "M"
LATE-NIGHT CHASE
The bottom floor, of three, opened up to a trio of Minatos, their backs heavy with the incriminating goods. They were in the clear. All that was left now was to make it through the last door. As a unit they turned as they ran, rounding a corner to come upon the exit... Only to find it guarded by—well, not the Phoenix that they'd been dodging all night—but rather some handful of others. Huffing, the lead Mina took a step forward.

”Listen... We don't gotta do this the hard way.” He said, gesturing to the two hims at either side of him, who were busy cracking their knuckles. ”Juuust... Move outta the way, n' we can pretend like ya' never saw us.”

It was a good deal, in Minato's estimation. They should take the deal. Based on the looks on their faces, they were not going to take the deal.

He sighed, flicking open a wicked sharp-looking switchblade. ”S'yer funeral, chums.”

Without another word, the three Minatos lunged forward and the battle commenced.

 

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