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

[Damafaud]

Paris Alison, the Son of Tri

CS Link

SCENE:

Beginner's Guide to Housekeeping

LOCATION:

Near the North-Central Major Bridge, Upper Central

TIME:

August, 2019 | Pre-Arc 1

PARTICIPANTS:

Yuto, Sang-Cheol, Paris, Kaiga, Musai

Beginner's Guide to Housekeeping

The Shadow King would not exist for another three years or so. The Golden Son, another two years. Yet, Paris Alison was not without a name. Those at the end of his business knew Doctoral, a prodigy worthy of the title. Those at the end of his creation whispered a name truer.

Pestilence.

Yet, the last of them had died. Paris drove an unlicensed car while his thoughts drifted away. One conversation. That was all it took to take care of a veteran arms dealer. Fifteen minutes in an enclosed room, without weapons or electronics. They were used to protecting against force, but they could not intercept his disease. Even as he commanded his crew to take over, everything still didn't feel real. He did it.

Now, he controlled the distribution of chemical weaponry in the north.

A sharp horn jolted Paris back into reality. The light had turned green. He subconsciously stepped on the pedal. Almost immediately, his expression darkened. He had climbed on the North-Central bridge. There wouldn't be an opportunity to turn until he had crossed. The Phoenix weren't kind on trespassers. He cursed again as he realized that the car he took didn't have filmed window. Paris adjusted his mask and took a deep breath.

It was fine. Cars drove plenty at this moment. Black cars like his were plenty. He had created a splash up north, but the Central shouldn't be familiar with him. He just needed to take a turnabout.

It was at this moment Paris forgot that his car didn't have a plate number.

Tags: WhiskeyMarten Astrylan

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

SYLVIE SLEZÁK

CS Link

SCENE:

Reaching The Heavens From Hell

TIME:

Pre Arc-3

LOCATION:

West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Sylvie Slezák, Shishido Takakazu

Reaching The Heavens From Hell

“Oh!” Sylvie was caught off guard by the sudden shout, though his reaction was slightly delayed, lingering his hand in the area a moment longer before awkwardly bringing it up to his head, pushing it through his hair as though that was his intention all along.

“Hey man…” Sylvie wanted to tell Tak to just chill out for a moment, unsure what he did to deserve all this talk. He was used to difficult people. Rich people were often the worst customers, and tailoring suits for them came with a lot of negative comments even when he did his job perfectly. And then there was the whole gang thing. His gangmates, their clients, and their foes all came with their own issues, and Sylvie was lucky to have learned patience. None of that had anything to do with why Tak was chewing him out now, and Sylvie stammered a bit forming a response before Tak continued.

”Look I uh, I do not know what to tell you, Mister… Sir. I am just good at this thing, that’s why I’m here. There is no trick to it. Though maybe, maybe I will let you in on a couple of tips if you are adamant on getting rich tonight. I’ll even buy you a drink, I’m sure I’ll have more money to spare than you.”

He leaned forward, narrowing the gap even closer.

”Don’t get cocky, Sir.”

Sylvie didn’t want to delve down to Tak’s level of insults, but he couldn’t help but feel irritated by his attitude. He didn’t have much right to lecture him about being cocky, but had to assert himself somehow, suddenly feeling the need to protect his pride. He was more confident than ever now that he wasn’t gonna leave this place till he had regained what he entered with.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

HECTOR MOSES

CS Link

SCENE:

Blood Stained Girl

TIME:

Pre-Arc 1 - Night, 2016

LOCATION:

Alley, South District

PARTICIPANTS:

Hector, Raquel

BLOOD STAINED GIRL

”Yes, yes you can.” Hector wasn’t expecting there to be more than one, hoping that would be enough to satiate the blood-stained girl. Truth be told, Hector wasn’t sure he was ready to see such a sight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made some grisly messes of his own, but he’d never dreamed of eating the flesh of another. It seemed like second nature to the ravenous girl before him. He wasn’t all too bothered though. This guy deserved it, and it would do him as much good as it would presumably do her, long as she left something to prove the kill.

Hector slowly placed his hand onto the door handle, pausing for a moment.

Silence.

He looked to Raquel, placing a finger over his mouth as indication for her to shush. He turned the handle. It creaked loudly.

Silence.

He pushed the door, it opened, slightly stiff but unlocked. Then it clanged against something. A chain. Ha. It would be no match for an HP like Hector, but the noise was more concerning.

Silence?

No.

”WHO’S THERE? YOU WALK IN THAT DOOR AN’ I BLOW YER FUCKIN’ HEAD OFF.”

Hector wordlessly formed a long machete, slicing it down against the chain. The sharp edge with HP strength cut through the chain like butter, and the door swung open. The Veteran quickly stepped away from the frame, and a figure in the darkness beyond shot an array of bullets through the opening immediately.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

SYLVIE SLEZÁK

CS Link

SCENE:

Osamu and Mina's Party Bash

TIME:

September 25th, 2021 | Post Arc-1

LOCATION:

Somebody's crib

PARTICIPANTS:

August, Elias, Matsuda, Minato, Osamu, Sylvie

OSAMU AND MINA'S PARTY BASH

Sylvie couldn’t help but grin, pleased that his gift was appreciated, though he wasn’t all too sure that Minato really knew much about the wine he had taken. He almost wondered if he could’ve passed off grocery store wine to him, but he wouldn’t have dared. Besides, he wanted to enjoy it too, and of course, he deserved the finer things as much as the people here did.

”Aha, cheers!” Sylvie watched as Minato drank straight from the bottle, ”you know, it is good to savour it…” There didn’t seem to be much point telling him, and so Sylvie followed suit with a bit of reluctance when he received the bottle back. This is liquid gold… I’m good at this. Sylvie kept hold of the bottle.

”Thank you, thank you. It’s a really lovely place you have here, I can tell that you have put a lot of effort into it.” Though it was hard to really admire the place with all the people around, Sylvie’s words were genuine. He was impressed. He dreamed of living in a place like this all to himself, then maybe he could be the one receiving wine and hosting parties. ”This party isn’t something I would dare to miss out on, and clearly I made the right decision.”

Sylvie was intrigued now, unable to tell from the man’s demeanour what sort of thing he could be “cooking”. Something savoury was all he hoped. He was sure there were shadier things around the Tigers, but nothing Sylvie wanted anything to do with. He placed an arm over Minato’s shoulder, to bring him in closer.

”I might just be interested, care to tell me more?”

Sylvie didn’t exactly have the spending money for whatever he was being offered, but what’s a bit of debt on top of more debt? A problem for future Sylvie to solve. Present Sylvie was making friends tonight.

 

[Sei Shonagon]

Kaede Shimokōbe

CS Link

SCENE:

Jingle Bells, Jingle Hell

LOCATION:

The Metropolitan Museum, Central district (?)

TIME:

December 26th 2013

PARTICIPANTS:

Hector Moses, Kaede Shimokōbe

Jingle Bells, Jingle Hell.

The sparks were like an extension of her focus. They lit up and then flickered out. Lit up and flickered out. Lit up- ”Ain’t you gonna offer me one?” her gaze trailed after the embers that bled out into space. Solitary blazes that flared distantly over the silhouettes of all the couples, friends and family members that attended this evening. And there she was, working overtime and spending Christmas with an unwilling tagalong. The sparks died out and Kaede momentarily considered his offer under an equally uncommitted glance that flitted from his hand up to his face.

Was he gonna throw a tantrum if she didn’t? The only difference between the lighter and her eyes was that there wasn’t even an attempt to flare up a fire in the latter. Instead, they stared through ashes and eventually simmered back out into the crowd with a sigh. The cigarette bobbed limply under the motioned sound. Maybe it was better if he did throw a tantrum.

“We’re listening because there’s no reason to go inside when our target is right here.” Her gaze locked onto the man on the podium while unmoving limbs delivered her reply to his request. Lyric and recruiting actual children. The light shake of her head that followed only solidified the inaction. “No prep. ‘S not needed. This is no assault mission if you haven’t realised that already.” The man on the podium rounded up his speech to the thundering applause of the crowd and she reached inside her fur.

Kaede removed the cigarette from her mouth and returned it to its rightful place in the silver box. It snapped shut and marked the unsaid end of their discussion. “You’re free to leave if you think you can’t handle it.” Her elbow formed a hook for his arm to take if he opted to stay regardless “-Otherwise you can escort me now”.

Outfit x
WhiskeyMarten

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

DARIUS KENNEDY

CS Link

SCENE:

Dissonant Ichors

LOCATION:

Alleyway, East District

TIME:

Pre-Arc 1: December 21, 2020 -- Dusk

PARTICIPANTS:

Darius, Shen, Raph

DISSONANT ICHORS

”One last chance. Just tell me where he is. Or you’ll never see him again, o-or anyone for that matter. I’m not bluffing.”

Darius’s hands trembled as the bat remained raised, not yet against the girl’s skull as he had hoped. Get a grip, Darius. He was sure Caio would be pissed at him by now, though actually, he’d be pissed regardless that Darius wasn’t melting her face off to get the details.

”I don’t care, I don’t care,” the girl suppressed her sobs for a moment, ”I’m not selling him out, I don’t care what you do to me.”

Do it for real this time, stop hesitating.

Darius tightened his grip on the bat and-

STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

Hell no.

Darius tensed up. He could tell it was trouble, but who would be stomping down this way at this hour? Already feeling like he couldn’t breathe, Darius turned around to face the rampaging giant.

HELL NO.

Caio had not briefed him on this part of the mission, and Darius took a few steps back, stumbling over the woman. Looking down, he could see her face of terror. Clearly, she wasn’t briefed on this either.

Darius had to move, he knew that, but he was in shock. A powerful foot stomped down as he moved. The air was filled with an agonizing scream that spluttered out into the woman’s final raspy breaths as the giant stepped onto her, crushing her ribs into her organs and into her spine. It was almost a blessing for Darius to have been knocked out of the way as the leg rose once more, colliding with him and stopping him from seeing the horrible sight. His hands scrambled across the snowy pavement, eager to drag him anywhere that wasn’t next to that thing.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered.

At least he did his job for him.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

HECTOR MOSES

CS Link

SCENE:

Jingle Bells, Jingle Hell

TIME:

December 26th 2013

LOCATION:

The Metropolitan Museum, Central District

PARTICIPANTS:

Kaede, Hector

JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE HELL

”Yeah. He is right here. So I don’t get why we don’t just grab him and run. You think any of these rich fucks could stop us? I don’t.”

As Kaede snapped shut the cigarette box, Hector shoved his lighter back into his pocket. It’s not like he was desperate, he had his own cigarettes tucked away in a packet next to his lighter, but it was the principle of it. He was liking this woman less and less by the second. Bet she’s feeling all smug in her stupid outfit. Those were his thoughts, but he was lying to himself. He thought she looked beautiful, and that only made her aloof attitude even more infuriating.

Briefly staying silent, he grabbed her offered arm, actually making an effort despite his initially rough approach to be gentle with her, like a proper gentleman. He eyed each nearby patron with a dirty look.

”So how long do we gotta play this stupid game for then, m’lady?” It wasn't long until Hector opened his stupid mouth again, chuckling a bit at the word, ”I wanna take you to something better, like a date… Unless this is a date we’re on.” His miserable scowl formed into a shit-eating grin.

 

[thebigfella]

Shishido Takakazu

CS Link

SCENE:

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

LOCATION:

West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Shishido Takakazu, Dante Aguilar ( Haze- )

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

A small crack of muted blue light spilled from under a door, its white paint faintly able to be made out among the encompassing darkness of the surroundings. The view panned downwards until it reached the ground, sliding through the crevice as the abrupt change in light exposure flashed the screen in bright light.

Slowly color began to fill the screen once more, the tones muted by a hazy curtain of steam that packed the bathroom. The camera slowly slid across the grids of white tiles that decorated the ground. The sound of a woman humming in an upbeat tone accompanied the chaotic cadence of water splashing dully onto dense fiberglass. Finally, the camera slowly panned up as it started directly at the bright pink curtains that hung in front of the bathtub; the unmistakable silhouette of a woman’s shapely body was indisputable, her lengthy hair hanging from her body as she tilted her head backward and brought her hands up to her head, dragging her finger through her wet hair.

The perspective continued to float higher and higher until it finally reached a point where it stood at an equal level to the woman hidden behind the curtain as she continued to whisper a nameless tune behind the constant spray of the shower head. The view gradually closed in, tension rising as the ominous air was present.

Abruptly, the landscape shifted into the interior of the shower, placed right at the woman’s bronze-skinned feet, rivers of water trailing down her legs and curving around her ankles to eventually reach the holes of the drain, finally swapping to show a profile of the girl’s back, her long, matted black hair stuck closer to her back, the faint outline of her shoulder blades sticking out as her nails scratched at her scalp, seeming to be in the process of rinsing out shampoo. The steam that surrounded her kept anything from below the waist visible. Water sprayed her front as it traced down her frame while she slightly turned to the side, and the curvature of her plump breasts was deliberately put on show, her elbows in the perfect spot to block a view of her nipples.

Her eyes were closed tight to keep the soapy water running down her forehead from getting into her eyes, the perspective placed at her shoulder as she minded her business. This innocent scene was devoid of substance for a moment until the faint outline of a shadow on the other side of the curtain seeped through like a stain.

As if she had suddenly felt its presence, her hands stopped moving as she blinked her eyes open; she quit her humming as she stood still, her breathing suddenly becoming heavy as a feeling of distress came over her. Then, with the end of her singing, the ominous silence substituted it as her head slowly turned towards the shower curtain…

Only to be greeted with nothing, her apprehension seemingly for nothing as the contour previously visible on the other side had entirely disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief, her body relaxing as her shoulders drooped, closing her eyes once more as she turned around.

As soon as her head turned, what stood before her was a creature with a shiny chrome replacing its flesh, a beard, and a large tophat on its head as a giant screw in the side of its face acted like a mole. It wore a tattered suit, strips of fabric torn off to reveal the chrome robotic parts under it. Its eyes glowed a bright red, glowing onto the woman’s face as she opened her eyes wide in shock.

“That ass is a score of four, but the rest of you, my fair lady, is a seven!” The robotic assailant shouted as a poorly edited voice actor acted as its representation, raising its arm to reveal a chainsaw replacing its hand.

The woman raised her hands to her face, screaming a blood-curdling cry before the cyborg charged at her, poorly edited shots of fake blood squirting across the floor as the sound of a chainsaw went off in the background acted as the killing scene.

“I know I saw it that time!”

The sound of a man’s voice brought a change in the visual. Numerous tiny circles and quality distortion revealed the scene from earlier to come from a T.V. screen rather than an actual event, the perspective zooming out to reveal a pair of eyes hovering only a few centimeters away from the screen, the reflection of the images showing in their black pupils as their sweaty forehead mashed against the cold glass.

The view moved away to show him with his hands gripped tightly around the television frame, mushing it against his face as he rested on his knees to be as intimate with the appliance as possible. His messy black hair was a dead giveaway, but the familiar black and white tracksuit and pants quickly identified him.

Tak dragged his face away from the screen, a red mark evident on his forehead where he had shoved the T.V. against it for who knows how long as he stared off-screen with an intense glare, his uneven stubble moved along with his lips as they turned into a slight frown, a shadow over the half of his face as it held a severe ambiance.

“My assumptions were correct….”

He stopped his statement to turn his head to the side, the shadow on his face shifting to the opposite half as he brought two fingers up to his forehead, smirking with a tenacity visible sparkle of confidence flashing in his eyes.

“I definitely saw her nipple in that scene.”

Stating his grand discovery, the shot gradually expanded to show his dimly lit surroundings, dark of anything except the glow of the television that provided some illumination to make him out and the carpet he kneeled on, and not much else. From the offset, it seemed like he was alone, talking about a woman’s nipple in a cheap horror flick all by himself.

That was until he shot his head over his shoulder, glaring through the darkness at someone who couldn’t yet be made out, an anger vein evident above his head as his teeth went jagged along with his comedic annoyance, raising a fist up above his head.

“Didn’t you hear me!? Rewind the damn DVD!” He blurted the order towards the shadows, whoever the unfortunate soul was who happened to be involved in his usual brand of insipid madness.

 

[Coyote Hart]

Peyton Xiong

CS Link

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

When Yuto's lips met Peyton's once more, Peyton leaned in to submit himself more to the kiss. The feeling of their lips with no space between them felt pleasant, almost enough to block out the dull pain that radiated from his bite wound. A small smile was on his tear-covered face afterward when Yuto booped his nose with his lips. To Peyton, Yuto was the cute one.

As if he was mesmerized, Peyton watched Yuto pick up the flesh off of the ground and drop it into his mouth. Peyton felt his face heat up and a tingle of excitement rush through his veins seeing a piece of him being transferred into Yuto. The fact that cannibalism would've been seen as a debauched action in society didn't impact Peyton in the slightest-- in fact, if not for Peyton's self-restraint, the zombie-like potential that ran through him would've led him down that same path.

And so when Yuto approached Peyton like a delightful monster, Peyton sat crisscrossed on the ground. The zombie and the spider's lips tangled euphorically, and Peyton let out a muffled yelp when his lip was bit. Peyton lifted his arms to hug Yuto closer to him, being extra careful with his silk-bandaged arm, before tipping them so that Yuto's weight was pressed on top of Peyton whilst Peyton laid on his back.

"I think you're the best, Yutes! So I forgive you for munching me!" Peyton exclaimed. He was more than willing to donate himself for Yuto's affection. Peyton pulled Yuto onto him once more, nuzzling their noses together before giving in to his hunger for kisses. Yuto tasted like blood, but whether it was the nurse's or Peyton's blood was unknown. Peyton hoped that it was his blood. His lips traveled down Yuto's chin and onto his neck so that Peyton could pepper kisses over Yuto's jugular vein. Out of curiosity, Peyton asked, "Is kissing me like licking a piece of candy before eating it?"

Peyton's back hurt slightly from the hard ground, and he vaguely remembered that they were sharing the room with a corpse. It wasn't the most comfortable of places, and it made Peyton want to invite Yuto over to his apartment. "Hey Yutes, wanna come over to my place today? I have a nice bed, we can do this stuff all day there and be comfy too!"

Caffeine_Obsessed

 

[Doctor Llamabean]

TAZZ (August August)

CS Link

SCENE:

Osamu and Mina's Party Bash

TIME:

Post-Arc 1/Pre-Arc 2 — September 25th, 2021: ??:?? PM

LOCATION:

Osamu and Minato's Crib, ??? District... Drink station...

PARTICIPANTS:

Osamu, Minato, Elias, Matsuda, Sylvie, NPCs

OSAMU AND MINA'S PARTY BASH

“Hey now, you're speakin' my language,” said Minato.

August pushed his sunglasses back up. The tingle at his fingertips found its way into the corners of his mouth, making it difficult for him to stop grinning as Minato went on. Then,

“Ahh~” August spread his arms low, leaning back on one leg before slumping forward, “Cards’re basic, mate.”

He shook a finger at Minato, and said, “Ah’ve got somethin’ else in moind,” before tapping that same finger to his own temple.

August tilted toward Minato as if he were going to let himself fall, but his feet quickly caught up, and he spun around to lean himself likewise against the counter. There, he wrapped an arm around Minato’s shoulders. “What say you give me tha grand tour~... Make our way room-ta-room,” he walked his fingers through the air, “Pick out two fancies,” fingers went up in Minato’s face—a V like scissors, snip, snip, snipping just inches from the other’s nose—“an’ if ah can guess which one ya spent tha most on, within good range of it's cost, it goes tuh me… But if ah’m wrong…”

August met eyes with Minato, lidded teals peeking over the rim of his sunglasses, “Tha highest value’s my double-debt t’ owe, an’ ya can keep ya fancy, yeh?”

AUGUST NOTES​

— —What he's wearing (CLICK HERE) + Surgical facemask, tinted sunglasses, and has his hair tied into a sloppy topknot (reminding of the green of a pineapple)

— —Call him Tazz! (Those who know his real name are: Isobel, Camila, Lucy, Markus, Elias, and Raphael)

— —POST RECAP: August explains his idea of a game to Minato.

(Interacting w/ Minato)
(Mentioned no one)
Elenion Aura ​

 

[thebigfella]

Shishido Takakazu

CS Link

SCENE:

Reaching The Heavens From Hell (Pre-Arc 3)

LOCATION:

Tourist & Casino District, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Shishido Takakazu, Sylvie Slezák ( WhiskeyMarten )

Reaching The Heavens From Hell

Tak leered at Sylvie with a slight smirk on his face, boring into the man’s eyes as he hoped that the pompous, nicely dressed, princely-looking guy would just turn around and accept defeat, or even better try to do something so he would have full right to lay him out. He didn’t expect that there would be much backbone in the fancy type, and if there was, it wouldn’t be well-founded when he realized that Tak could care less.

Instead of getting a declaration or an excuse to pop Sylvie in a jaw, he instead found the fellow gambler approaching his taunts directly in such a casual passive-aggressive, bumptious manner it immediately caused his face to scrunch up in a scowl, accompanied with a crunching sound like someone stepping on a can. In addition, a visible pulsing mark of anger appeared above his head as he let out an aggressive “Huh!?” at Sylvie’s bold suggestion of giving him tips and insinuating he was more wealthy than him.

He totally was, but that didn’t make him any less annoyed by it.

As Sylvie leaned forward and matched Tak’s assertiveness, the brute didn’t hesitate to lean forward himself, mashing his forehead against Sylvies as he smirked maliciously, anger still evident with the twitching of the corner of his mouth and bloodshot eyes.

“‘Don’t get cocky’? I don’t wanna hear that coming from the guy who just talked all this shit about winning more money than me and offering me tips! That’s my line, asshole!” Tak shouted in his face, shifting his head slightly to the side while ensuring he didn’t let up from the pressure he tried exerting on Sylvie.

“I don’t need any of your tips! The only tips I’m gonna need are the ones I’m givin’ to the cocktail waitresses when I’m rakin’ in the dough, and they’re all over me!” Tak asserted, caressing his own body for emphasis, wrinkling his shirt more than before as his fingers grazed across his chest, imagining all the sweet attention he was about to receive, quickly forgetting his aggression to think about his fantasy.

Quickly, he snapped out of his vision, a spark returning to his eyes as he regained focus on Sylvie. “If you think you’re such hot shit, how about we play a game! Whoever has less money at the end of the night is the loser and has to hand over all their winnings to the winner!” Tak suggested, well, more demanded, as he poked a finger into Sylvie’s chest, asking him to put all that ego to where his mouth was without a second thought.

While their argument heated up, entirely from Tak’s inability to let a situation de-escalate, all surrounding attention had been turned onto them as many people, patrons and workers alike, had stopped what they were doing to watch them make a scene. A bartender continued to pour a drink while the glass was already full. The golden liquid flooded past the patron’s fingers as he watched bug-eyed. At the same time, a man at another table who was in the process of getting dragged out of the casino was stopped in place as the bouncers holding him up from the ground stopped to stare from behind their sunglasses.

Meanwhile, the line ahead of Sylvie had already become basically non-existent, with only a few people who still needed to reach the counter.

The line behind Tak was a completely different story. It had turned into a furious mob, many of them with angry expressions with their hands raised in the air in frustration.

“Hurry up and move already!”
“I got a hole burning in my pocket back here!”
“Are they making out up there or something!?”

“SHUT IT!” Tak’s focus on Sylvie briefly snapped at his reeled his head around to shout at the rest of the people he was inconveniencing, his teeth becoming sharp as his head inflated while his pupils disappeared in a cartoony display of anger.

 

[Haze-]

Dante Aguilar

CS Link

SCENE:

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

LOCATION:

Dante's Apartment, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Shishido Takakazu ( thebigfella ), Dante Aguilar

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

There was a string of dim, yellow light making a counter-point against the ever brighter, decadent blue light coming off the T.V. Like the eminence of a hunter’s moon, sifting through clouds in a starless sky, only making a thread of glow. This fleeting thing of light, just a hair, looming in the back of the dark room.

The yellow light narrowed and moved in blurs of motion, streaks of gold tossing and turning in a restless struggle to get past the silhouette blocking the view.

It was getting fucking HARD to get a good view of the movie with this dumbass kneeling right in front of the T.V.

He remembered being beyond flashbanged in the theaters with all the giddy mass of bodies pulling out their phones and recording the whole thing; they were lenient with it back when he was a kid. The whole thing was a mess of sound and disfigured color jumbling at his eyes back then, none of it made sense, all he remembered was the campiness of the dialogue— it was somehow more incomprehensible present day now that he was rewatching it.

It was much worse than what he remembered. Oh, tenfolds worse.

Now that those disembodied voices had a proper image he could see, he wished he’d gone blind back then. Tak’s presence was just the nail to the coffin.

“They should’ve given this shit the long sleep, man. How the fuck did they even allow this on the big screen…” — Dante threw his head at the back of the couch, his neck bending at an uncomfortable angle. Tak looked to be one heartbeat away from licking the screen.

The crunchy voice-over of the robo-killer’s corny one-liner entered the scene once again, he’d counted 12 of them so far. The runtime was 1:30. They were barely half-way through this re-watch with how many times Tak had rewinded the tape.

“Ughh…” — He was already lightheaded by that point. Eyes could hold a whole language— reflections of the soul and all that jazz. Dante’s half-lidded, narrow gaze at the ceiling fan going rounds above him spoke a message to a million tongues at once. Only so much a man can take.

When Tak’s voice rose and filled the room, somehow louder than the ear-piercing screams of a woman getting chopped to pieces coming from the T.V, Dante’s face immediately scrunched up in annoyance. The inner yakuza came out— “Haaah???”

This dumb fuck…

Bones cracked and clicked together as though a skeleton had been roused from its eternal sleep once he got up the couch, stretching with a groan, stepping into the light of the television, a trail of breath as he let out a sigh.

“Riwin di dim dividi— ñi ñi ñi ñi ñi— That’s how you fucking sound, stupid ass.” — Dante walked over to the listless, homeless-looking man kneeling on his carpet. Not that he looked that much better than him. He’d usually be not-so-groomed once the moon hit the summit.

Right now, he was still wearing the sleeveless v-neck he usually wears to work— his other, more established and legal business as a tattoo artist— with dozens of tats mixing with colorless scars neck-down, running from the arms and exposed chest. Like a walking, talking canvas.

You usually got a better rep in the gig if you had ink to show off yourself. “It shows that you're a good artist.”— or some mindless bullshit like that.

His eyes, as per the usual, were vacant and bored when he looked down at Tak— “The remote's right there on the T.V, man. C’mon.”— He leaned over Tak and indeed, the remote was right there balanced at the top of the T.V, a little too over the edge in that corner. He put it there hoping it’d topple over and break, that gravity’d be his phantom killer.

That he wouldn’t have to rewind the same scene over… and over… and over… and over… and over…….

“I had it there because someone wouldn’t stop rewindin’ it, remember? Just record the damned thing and get off at home, bro. God. Fucking. Damn.”

Alas, the world is cruel.

With a roll of the eyes and a click of the tongue he begrudgingly took the remote, thumb moving to the bold-loud-labeled ß button on it. He left the finger pressed up until it came to the scene he knew Tak wanted to see in sequence to the infamous shower one— the one where the soon-to-be final girl of the slasher would trip and fall in a chase scene. Of course, they’d had the actress wear a mini-skirt.

Camera aimed right at her back and staying there as she fell. He watched the actress step back in fright of the metallic thumps inching closer, exploding into a run that ends in her juddering to a halt, her foot getting caught seemingly on nothing before she falls— “Hmrrn—”

Dante felt like exploding himself as he watched her raise her arms to shield her face— from the sight of the monster?— instead of picking back up the run. The same exact, schlocky, drive-in b-movie nonsense — "Like—I’ve seen this bitch trip and fall on thin air so many times already… What the fuck do you have me watching, maaaan…”

It wasn’t even a question; it was a plea. Maybe not to Tak. Maybe to a deity up above.

“Not the first time a big boy’s thrown his weight around with me~”— The woman would say as the robotic threat would scoop her off the ground and pin her against a wall.

“You’re no fun~”— The final girl would say at the stereotype jock, stooping down to him, back arched with the index finger pointed at him. Camera still dead-locked on her back.

“Ahn~”— She’d moan every time they’d treat her wounds.

“It’s so fucking bad…” — Dante cupped his face with both hands. Feeling like he was about to burst into tears at any moment if he kept watching. He pulled down, letting out a grunt straight from the soul.

“Whatever,”— He braced for the upcoming rewinds, there was no point in fighting the current— “Y’want some more popcorn or what?”

Without even waiting on a response, Dante inched over to the kitchen. There was no way in hell Tak was passing up free food, he could tell that much just from the couple of months they’ve known each other for.

“Mrreeow~”— The pale man stopped one foot into the darkness when he caught the sound. A black-white ball of fur jumping straight onto the kneeled man’s head. Dante immediately sprung to action and got her off before Tak did, one quick blur of motion—

“Ey, princess~”— With the cat on his hands, in contrast to the annoyed tone he’d always show to Tak, he spoke to the feline with a warmth to his voice. With the mirth of a mother talking to their child— “You shouldn’t be jumping on the ugly man’s hair, eh?”

“I know it looks like a rat’s nest and that you wanna thwack it to see if there’s anything up in there— but it’s rude, baby.” — He set her down on the couch, turning back to face Tak.

“Look, man. I hate repeating myself. But all I’m sayin’ is,”— There was a pause, raising his hands with a cheeky smirk coming to his face— “I can hook you up with someone that can get you right if y’want.”

“That thing on top of your head gives me nightmares.”— It was an ongoing gag at this point.

 

[Caffeine_Obsessed]

NIKOLAI NOVAK

CS Link

SCENE:

Revenge Best Served à La Mode

TIME:

6:15 PM || November 7, 2019 || Pre-arc 1

LOCATION:

Novak's Dilapidated Mansion

PARTICIPANTS:

Nikolai, Naom

Revenge Best Served à La Mode

The white haired man's gaze lazily drifted to the doorway, examining Naom up and down with a critical eye. With a sigh, he got himself up, holding onto the cushion for leverage before stumbling his way closer to the other. "Oh, it's you." He started mumbling, "24 hour bar? What kind of lazy molerats spends all that time in a bar..." He bypassed Naom entirely to reach the whiskey bottle on the table next to the door. He poured it into a new glass laying beside it. Another stumble, and he was making it back to his loveseat.

Plopping himself down, he let the cigarette dangle from his lips, his other arm draped off the couch holding his whiskey, his feet resting on the armrest. He gestured with his whiskey to the couch beside his, a cloud of smoke leaving him as he spoke, "Take a seat. let me tell you how shitty my life has been lately." It came out a bit muffled due to his stick, so he took it out, letting it rest on his forehead.

Nikolai gestured wildly with his gloved hand as he told his fantastic disastrous tale. "As you know, as I do- people envy my designs, and who could blame them? But I fired this fucking rat and she must've stole one of my designs off my table while I wasn't looking. Her stupid bowed knee, hip jerking performance must've been too distracting. Told her to lay off the fucking drugs. " He sat up now, his voice transforming more higher and quicker, a frantic manic quality to them. "And guess what? The next day I see none other than Jeremy fucking Fritz publishing- no- bragging, online about his newest design. And guess what? You'll never guess-" He licked his lips, adjusting himself on his seat restlessly. "What do I see? You know what I see? That sleazy imbecile has the exact same design I have! had... I would know right? Because it's my god forsaken design!" He threw his hands up, breaths heavy.

With a relieved sigh, he slouched against the couch, now empty hands covering his eyes. He spat out, "I want to tear both their fucking eyes out and sow them into their assholes. Maybe then they'll properly see what shit vision they have" He laughed, hand dragging down his face. "Uncreative fucks having to steal otheres- my- hard work. Fucking media. They don't know shit." Nikolai is still upset that everyone online had taken Jeremy's side. Sure they were more popular. Sure Nikolai didn't come off as the friendliest. But couldn't they tell that was his design? Jeremy Sleazeball Fritz wouldn't have the proper creativity- vision- that Nikolai had to come up with such a beautiful thing. Why didn't they see that? Now he's the one getting backlash? Simply ludicrous.

Spoiler: Tags

tityanya

 

[Caffeine_Obsessed]

Matsuda Russo

CS Link

SCENE:

Buzzkill

TIME:

Pre-Arc 1—2020, November 18 | 7:45 pm

LOCATION:

Eminence Bar, West district

PARTICIPANTS:

Matsuda, Sylvie

Buzzkill

Matsuda was startled out of his reverie by a touch to his shoulder. He blinked, before turning his attention to a young- clearly rich- man introducing himself. His duo eyes however, were stuck on his rings. Jeez how expensive were they? None of them seemed fake either, though maybe the lights of the club made it difficult to discern. His gaze went from this stranger's rings, to the ones adorned on his own fingers. Most of his were definitely fake, he knew that for sure. Fiddling with one on his middle finger, his eyes suddenly snapped up, having realized the man introduced himself. Shit what was it? Silas? Simon? Sweeney? Something with an S he was sure... Shit, he'd have to figure out a way later for him to say his name again.

In a flurry, Matsu rushed to shake Seymour's hand, both of his clasping his one and shaking vigorously. He smiled, mouth full of teeth. "Russo, Matsuda Russo at your service." He winked, before finally dropping his hand. He nudged with his head to the blonde woman beside him, who was currently chatting a couple's ears off. "My date here wanted to show me around the best places in West district, since I saved her from a mugging a few days ago." He huffed hot breath unto his knuckles, smugly brushing it off on his shirt. "You know. Typical hero shit heh."

He eyed his purple tipped haired companion with a tilt of his head. "What about you? Don't you seem a lil' to uh..." He pauses. He supposed it was rude to just assume or guess someones age, even if they did look young. Hell- even Matsu was mistakenly taken for younger than he actually was sometimes. He shrugged with a smile, brushing it off. Even if this guy was underage, it wasn't his problem to deal with. Matsuda had his rebel times anyway. He snuck into bars several times with his buddies before.

Leaning on the counter, he gestured to the place around them, an awed glint in his eyes. "What a place huh? Can't say I ever visited something as grand as this." he nudged the other with his elbow. "My wallet would be a pocket of cobwebs by then." Matsu laughed good-naturedly.

Spoiler: Tags

WhiskeyMarten

 

[Elenion Aura]

MILO NAGISA

CS Link

SCENE:

White Noise

LOCATION:

Pre-Arc 3

LOCATION:

Central District, Paradise Gardens

PARTICIPANTS:

Milo, Jesper

WHITE NOISE

Milo sat alone in his parents' apartment, a lone figure amidst the silence of their absence. It was an all-too-familiar place, a place where he had often retreated to, and retreated from, depending on the day. His parents had always struggled to understand their son, and Milo had long struggled to understand them. He reckoned it didn't much matter now.

As he gazed at the canvas in front of him, Milo's mind drifted. Sometimes, anywhere at all was better than the place you were at.

The full-scale portrait loomed over him. It was his latest project, a creation that he had begun before he'd returned to New Oasis, one he'd poured his everything into. It was his obsession, his lifeline, his "best friend". But as his eyes scanned the intricate details of the painting, Milo found himself finding little flaws, small inconsistencies in the way the light reflected off of the clothes, or the way the hair fell just so effortlessly on the genuine article. Staring at it too long felt like daggers of ice piercing his chest, like the pang of a loss that had been haunting him for far too long.

For Milo, art had always been his refuge, his sanctuary. But more and more, he felt it becoming his burden. What he could do... His creations... Surely, there had to be a limit, right? A bridge better left un-crossed. A natural law better left unbroken. And yet... And yet.

Eventually, Milo gathered the courage to make a few careful brush strokes, his hand moving with a grace that only a true artist could possess. But even as he stepped back to examine the results, he knew that something was missing. There was an intangible quality that he couldn't quite capture, a sense of emptiness that mirrored the distinct lack of something inside him. Ignoring it like a blinking light on the dash, he soldiered onward. Slowly. Painfully. Tortuously. .

With each stroke of his brush, he felt the weight of that damnable devil called grief on his shoulder, weighing him down, turning his arm to jelly. Suddenly, his hand twitched. His fingers slipped, leaving an erratic brush-stroke right across the neck-line. Milo breathed a violent curse.

"Fuck," he whispered, and threw down his brush and palette, the two of them clattering across the tarped floor of the studio. It was time to clean up. Enough therapy for one day.

After a quick wash and change—mostly, he just threw his painting overalls in the corner and wiped the smudges from his cheeks—Milo gathered his things and headed out into the world. His destination? Paradise Gardens, Central District. He flagged down a city bus, only haphazardly approximating which line would get him there relatively on time. Luckily, today he was lucky. He got to ride the bus. Doing his best to keep out of the way of riders shouldering on and off as they stopped every few blocks, Milo let himself be consumed by the hustle and bustle of the city.

The time passed quickly. Milo opened his eyes just as the bus doors were beginning to close on his stop. Frantic, he threw himself through the sliding porthole and tripped his way onto the sidewalk below. Paradise Gardens unfurled itself before him. It was just as he'd remembered it, if not a little... Smaller? Probably, he was just older now. The veil of childhood that made everything feel larger than life had long since been lifted from his eyes.

He greeted Jesper with a small wave.

"Hey!" Milo said, his tone both cheery and abrupt. He didn't know the proper way to navigate this situation. It was almost as if too much time had passed. And if not time, then just...

Spoiler: Tags

AriAriAbabwa

 

[Horror]

Faelan Bryne

CS Link

SCENE:

Pyrotechnic Panorama

TIME:

Pre Arc 3

LOCATION:

South District

PARTICIPANTS:

Musai @Kameron Esters-

Pyrotechnic Panorama

Amidst the bustling cacophony of urban life, Faelan found himself surrounded. A symphony of voices swirled around him, while pedestrians and vehicles passed him by. Gazing upon this vibrant display, his eyes feasted upon the many colors and shapes, as the sun's golden rays gently caressed the architectural marvels that towered above. It was a sight that left him feeling giddy, his stomach swelled with excitement at the prospect of performing here after spending so much time absent.

But, it would not be much of a circus performance if he were the only star to gaze upon. Luckily for him, he chanced into a meeting with a talented man who went by the name of Musai. He seemed like a capable enough fellow, albeit he was quite down on his luck. Faelan was not one to miss such a golden opportunity and he forged a contract that would be to both of their benefits; Faelan would get a co-star and Musai would get a little bit of money.

But first, he would have to make time for the preparations. His plans were short and concise and left his would-be fire breather enough room to improvise. Eager to captivate the hearts and minds of those dwelling within this urban jungle, Faelan devoted his energies to the meticulous preparation of his street performance. Not to mention the outfit he prepared, the scene would have to be set before the show, after all.

As the hour of his grand spectacle approached, he knew it was time to summon Musai so that the two could become more practiced before he’d deliver his magnum opus. He had to make use of a relic of a bygone era: the pager. Pulling the device from his pockets he began his work by drafting a message: “Dearest Musai, the time to strike is now. I have found my muse and I am in need of your services. The payment is as we discussed. Please, make haste.” With a press, the message was sent forwards to his target.

In one hand, Faelan held a strikingly decorated briefcase, its surface adorned with a captivating blend of color and texture. Paint, beads, and glittering stones hung from the structure and were left to glisten in the morning light. Bystanders could not resist giving the thing a curious glance as they passed him—unfortunately its contents were destined to remain a mystery until the arrival of his associate.

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

The Idol Fanclub Trials

TIME:

Pre-Arc 2

LOCATION:

Highreach, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Shishido Takakazu, Passeri Park

The Idol Fanclub Trials

The buzz of Passeri's Potential was an inescapable companion during events such as this. We knew it like the back of her hand, better even, the sensation that came with the ebb and flow of the energy that poured forth from her fans' bottomless reserves of adoration. There were days in which she thought it pleasant, a reminder that her work, to some degree, could never truly be called a failure, and there were others when she wondered whether this was a battery felt like while it was being charged.

Today was one of those days. One, two, three dozen perfect smiles. Her hand clasped within that of a stranger who would remember this moment for far longer than she ever could. There had been a time when she'd genuinely enjoyed all this, but now it had become that most banal of things: Routine.

"Hope to see you next time!~" Passeri chirped, and waved off another fan. Short, skinny, glasses. Tanaka. She filed away a collection of his traits to recognize him another day, and then put on a fresh smile for the next person in line.

"Hey hey~ Thanks for waiting!" She smiled, and locked eyes with Takakazu. Dishevelled, tall... And absent. Passeri quirked a brow as she felt the buzz of her Potential dim. This one wasn't a fan- "Do you have anything you'd like signed?" -so she skipped straight to the point. This wasn't the first time that a grifter had come to one of these events in the interest of turning a quick profit, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was best to just give his type what they wanted and keep things moving.

"It's only one per person, but you've got me for five minutes, so take your time thinking about it!" Hopefully he wouldn't. "The same goes for your handshake and photo. Just lemme know when you wanna get to that part."

thebigfella​

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

Return To Sender

TIME:

Post-Arc 2

LOCATION:

Hotel Gaul, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Hiachi Ito, Passeri Park

Return To Sender

"So this should be simple!" Passeri's voice carried easily throughout the hotel room. A single, gleaming light hung overhead, washing over the mousy girl under whose name the room had been paid for. Up this close, she could definitely see a bit of her brother in the girl. A touch in the nose and a hint in the eyes, but as far as demeanour was concerned, the two of them might as well have been from different universes.

"I've picked out a room just a few floors down from the target's, so we just need to nip up there, snatch whatever it is that he thinks that he has one me, and then run away into the night~" She sipped at her drink, a vibrant glass of pink lemonade, and then set down a map of the top floor. "I guess he's riding high on his ego or something, because he's rented out the most expensive penthouse in the building." Passeri tapped on the largest of the rooms on the tap with the base of her glass. "Which means that he probably has some security milling about too. I think that comes with the package. But it also means that he has a nice, wide-open balcony for us to sneak in from~"

She gestured to another part of the map, an open-aired balcony equipped with a pool, bar, and all of the fixings that you'd expect from a lavish party penthouse. "Don't worry too much about that part. I'll be able to slip us up there without too much trouble. What's next is where you come in."

Passeri's chair deformed as she leaned back into it, subtly conforming to her weight. Their target might have rented out the most expensive room in the building, but the rest of them were nothing to sneeze at either. Luxury furniture decorated the room, lavish with silk and embellishments, all of which Passeri, frankly, found a bit gaudy.

"I'll need you to keep your eyes peeled. For security, cameras, and especially anything suspicious. From what I gather he thinks he has some sort of big scoop on me that'll prove I'm an irredemable criminal, or something trite like that, so we'll be snatching everything we can." Laptops, hard drives, and paper documents. Whatever they could get their hands on, they'd take with them. "I've already had a friend of mine scour his cloud drives... So whatever he has should be local."

Which made things simple.

"Any questions? I had someone confirm that he's out partying right now, so we can start whenever you'd like." The sooner the better. She might not have shown it, but Passeri was anxious. Not about the idiot that they were stealing from, but Hiachi herself. She needed to know what sort of person that Kenki's mystery sister was.

miki​

 

[Sei Shonagon]

Kaede Shimokōbe

CS Link

SCENE:

Jingle Bells, Jingle Hell

LOCATION:

The Metropolitan Museum, Central district (?)

TIME:

December 26th 2013

PARTICIPANTS:

Hector Moses, Kaede Shimokōbe

Jingle Bells, Jingle Hell.

Kaede knew what kind of guy Hector Moses was. He was the kind that thought he had something to prove and that barged headfirst into situations to accomplish it. The kind that devolved into loud guffawing when things turned serious; The kind that was allergic to silence, but was more than fond of supplanting it with dumb comments.

The kind that needed to be knocked down a notch, lest he would get himself in trouble if not worse. And worse was always just around the corner in their world.

Her face didn’t show it, steeled expression and all, but he had a point. Most of the attendees were probably NP and wouldn’t pose any trouble for them. In theory, they could just grab him as Hector had as suggested. He had a point, but it wasn’t the point that Lyric was trying to make. “Then there wouldn’t be much of a point in the King making me your babysitter, would there?” If ambiguous had a look then it was this one: where Hector threaded the needle through her looped arm and their bodies angled closer- all the while Kaede adamantly avoided looking.

“But sure, let’s drag him down from that podium right now and announce to the world that the secrets he has been selling on the gangs were important enough to warrant it. Also let’s grab two big targets and strap them to our backs while we’re at it.” Hushed words prefaced the resumed stream of the crowd. Her hand might have grazed over his bicep. It was quickly remedied by hovering and her gaze was nowhere close to committing the same mistake as they ascended the stairs.

It wasn’t until they were standing in front of the museum doors that she levelled a flat stare, dispassionate like bullets, his way. “Let’s get two things straight, Moses. One, we’ll be ‘playing’ for as long as it will take.” The doors heaved open in the image of floodgates and revealed the inner sanctum of the domed building. It undulated before them in the ceiling that arched upwards towards the sky; suspended pillars forming a makeshift snowglobe where they, the guests, were the subjects for the subsequent chaos that would come to rattle it.

“Two. I don’t date.”

The chatter of glasses toasting and the exclamation of laughter ran congruent with the clicks of heels. A cheery cacophony that met its end prematurely at her less than cheery disposition and cut off trajectories when she stopped in the middle of the floor. The brunette shrunk back from her partner and slithered out of the grasp. Lyric or no Lyric, he was still a hazard to the completion of the mission and she sure as hell wasn’t going to risk him blurting out a snarky comment. “Right, you can go and make yourself acquainted with the table for refreshments now that you’ve come this far, and only the table for the refreshments.” A lifted brow commanded the man to follow her suggestion that was, in reality, not a mere suggestion but rather an order.

Outfit x
WhiskeyMarten

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Passeri Park

CS Link

SCENE:

Does This Have Gluten?

TIME:

Pre Arc 1, 2013

LOCATION:

Jiji's Convenience, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Yura Heo, Passeri Park

Does This Have Gluten?

Sickly yellow light washed over Passeri's frame as she passed from under one streetlight to the next, leaving the sound of hurried and heavy footfall in her wake. Sweat trickled along her brow, gleaming dully with the moon's sheen, and hot, heavy breaths escaped her lungs.

She didn't have much time left. At least, not if her information was to be believed. With each minute that ticked by, a pit in her stomach grew ever darker and more yearning. A flutter of worry passed through her chest. This was the only place that was still open at this hour, within this area. What was she going to do if she didn't make it in time? If she was already too late? Would she retire? Or would she venture further out in the yawning blackness of the night in search of another haven such as this?

She wouldn't let it come to that. Her pace quickened, she twisted around a corner, and then finally, she saw her destination in sight. A tiny, distant doorframe glowed at the street's end, bathing the street before it in a warm, gentle glow. Passeri steeled herself, and summoning the last of her strength hurried down the street, the nipping maw of time never too far behind.

"ARE YOU STILL OPEN!?" She burst through the door, only just barely stopping herself from running headfirst into one of the displays that decorated the interior. Her breathing was ragged, and she took a moment to prop herself against the door's frame, gasping to reclaim the air she'd spent on her final dash through the door. When that moment passed, and then another, and then another, and yet no voice had yet come to answer her, she felt concern bubble within her again.

Maybe she was late, and the owner had just popped off to start closing up.

"Hellooooo?" She called, bright and noisily, and she passed through the shop's threshold. "I'm just looking to pick up some snacks, if you wouldn't mind me grabbing something really quick...?" Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered the shelves, passing over all of the little knick-knacks and strange, off-brand foodstuffs that were typical of a store like this. She recognized some of them. The classic brands that had stocked the shelves of the budget grocers she'd frequented as a teen, but others were completely foreign to her. Trinkets that seemed a bit too nice to be sitting on a plastic shelf, or cans that looked like they predated even her grandmother.

"Anybody hoooome...?" She leaned over the counter, now having wandered her way over to the store's rear. Her eyes peered into the darkness of the store's back door, which she assumed led to some storeroom or dwelling. "I'm not intruding, am I? Zoozle said you were still open...?"

That was assuming that it wasn't out of date.

Sei Shonagon​

 

[Elenion Aura]

MARKUS WEISS

CS Link

SCENE:

Catch a Tiger by the Tail

TIME:

Past Midnight, October 9, 2021 | Between Arc 2 and Arc 3

LOCATION:

Markus' Penthouse, West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Markus, Dagger

CATCH A TIGER BY THE TAIL

Markus was no soldier.

As Dagger guided him back to the chair, Markus' mind raged, like a beast in a cage, though he did not resist. His body had betrayed him, made him look weak in front of the last person he'd want to see him like this. He scowled at nothing as she sat him down, infuriated at everyone, and no one, and above all, himself. He was a King. He was the Boss. He was supposed to be in control, always in control. But in this moment, surrounded by all of this chaos... The specter of the Albino Tiger was near, hovering just out of view. Markus could feel its beedy eyes on him, assessing him, judging him. Hoping he would pull through. Or, maybe, hoping he wouldn't. How did it come to this?

The destruction around them only added to his frustrations. This was supposed to be his sanctuary, his refuge from the chaos of the world outside. But they'd found him here, had the gall to strike the Tiger in his lair, and they'd paid for it. He was glad of that. But now, as a consequence, this place, his home, was nothing but a shell, and a sore reminder of how vulnerable he still was. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. There were enemies everywhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike. Markus felt his jaw clench, a cold-blooded fire rising within him. He refused to let his enemies get the better of him, no matter the cost. Never again.

His mind had still been far away when Dagger asked to see the damage. As he came back down to earth, Markus blurted unintentionally, "Huh?.. Right.”

He winced in pain as he lifted his shirt, by now slick with blood and sweat, up by one side, then the other. The planes of his bare chest and back, once a living testament to his philosophy of power, were marred by deep gashes and purpling bruises, the night's events written in scars across his flesh. His side was soaked with blood. Exhaling deeply and leaning back in his chair, as though the very effort of removing his shirt had exhausted him, Markus tilted his head back to rest against the stained mahogany.

As Dagger tended to his wounds, Markus sat quietly. He didn't fuss, he didn't grunt. He hardly even moved, except for his eyes. They glanced around at the destruction that enveloped them. The once-lavish suite, now a shattered shell of its former self, looked to him how Markus imagined he looked to her right about now. Ruined.

The hardwood floors were scratched and scuffed, caked with blood and fallen debris. The walls were pockmarked with gaping holes and deep gashes, and the windows were shattered, letting in the chilly night air alongside the yawning cavity in the ceiling. It was a scene of carnage, and a brutal reminder that, if things had gone differently, if they had gone wrong...

Markus winced suddenly as he felt a sharp prod at the wound in his side. His frayed nerve-endings fired, sending a jumble of mixed signals up and down the length of him; thoughts, strange thoughts, were suddenly swirling inside his mind. He was the King, damn it, and he should've been stronger than this. Should've been quicker. If he had, if he'd only just.. He wouldn't have to rely on anyone else for help.

But as she worked, silently and without much fuss, Markus couldn't deny the competence and efficiency Dagger displayed. He hated this feeling, this weakness, but... But perhaps. In a moment where his mind wandered again, Markus found himself leaning into her touch, grateful for her ministrations. Grateful? Yes, that was the word. It had gone so long without use that he'd almost forgotten it existed. As she worked, a strange serenity came over him. Markus allowed himself to close his eyes, and he could almost feel the tension begin to dissipate, like fog lifting over the bay.

He'd lost a lot of blood.

"Thanks," he muttered, in a voice barely audible, a voice sounded not like his own. It surprised him enough that he opened his eyes and leaned his head forward, catching a glimpse of himself. And her. And their... Proximity. A new and unexpected fire was catching in his breast. It took him hard and fast, like a spark of lightning to dry kindling.

Spoiler: Tags

@simj26

 

[tityanya]

𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐
𝔸𝕤: 𝕆𝕞𝕚​

I am here: North Bank of the river, next to the North-Central major bridge
With: Takaonna, in the water somewhere
Scene: Beginner's Guide To Housekeeping
Time: Pre-Arc 1 - Dusk, August 2019

"You know once I start, I cannot help myself"

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

Naomi raced through the streets of the Northern District, going over the plan in her head. Some imbecile had dropped an important shipment of drugs in the river, when they were being chased out of the Central District by the phoenixes. Naomi supposed, in a sense, that it wasn't a horribly stupid idea. The bag was waterproof, they were being chased, they didn't want to permanently lose the payload. But that meant that Naomi and...Takaonna had to clean up the mess. Naomi wasn't thrilled about the prospect of working with that...thing. In short, she terrified Naomi. Her power was like a twisted version of Naomi's, whereas Naomi's limbs extended and retracted into normal human sizes, Takaonna...well, anybody who saw her knew what it was that terrified Naomi. She didn't understand why Niko liked the warped woman so much--a fascination that bordered on stalker-ish. She smelled like sewage and belonged in a horror game, not in real life.

But, Naomi was a "professional." That's why when she was told she was going on the retrieval mission with Takaonna, she swallowed her protests. The plan was incredibly simple: Takaonna would take the sewers into the river bordering the Northern and Central district, and would collect the bag from the water. Naomi would wait on shore with her car, and then drive it to its final destination. That was how Naomi came to stand on the banks of the river, leaning on her illegally parked car, waiting for any signs of Takaonna rising from the water. The sunset was gorgeous, casting a golden glow on the water as businesses and streetlamps turned on. It would be a beautiful scene if Naomi hadn't been biting at her nail, waiting for a monstrosity to arise from the river.

As Naomi watched the riverbank on the other side, she saw a flock of birds take flight, squawking a dreadfully loud noise as they did so. Naomi squinted to try and make out what was happening. Was that...a bird fight? She felt a shiver run down her spine. At the moment, she was a lone bird. Would she be attacked by a flock, too? She bit down too hard on her nail, tearing the whole thing off. "Fuck," she muttered, watching her hand as the nail grew back to its normal length. She needed to stop doing that. It took energy to regrow her nails, even if she didn't notice it at the time. She was just nervous because she was working with Takaonna. That was it.

A horn nearby caused Naomi to jump. She turned wildly towards the sound, wondering if someone else also wanted to illegally drive on the riverbed. It wasn't entirely uncommon, to be honest. But no, they were honking at some car still stopped at the green light. The person took off, and Naomi peered at them curiously. That car...didn't have plates. Why was a car without plates heading into the Central District? That could be trouble. Naomi began biting at her nail again, the nerves becoming stronger than ever. Something bad was going to happen. That car had to be a fellow serpent--she couldn't imagine why any of the regular people living in the Northern District wouldn't have plates. What should she prioritize--their mission, or saving a fellow snake's skin?​

((ooc: I'll figure out that other layout eventually, but today is not that day))
((outfit))
((Discipline))

Spoiler: Tags

WhiskeyMarten
Astrylan
Damafaud
AriAriAbabwa

 

[Misuteeku]

???

http://

CS Link

SCENE:

Blood Stained Girl

LOCATION:

Alleyway, South District

Time:

Pre-Arc 1 | ???

PARTICIPANTS:

Raquel, Hector

Blood Stained Girl

Unlike Hector, the girl had no experience in combat. She could only watch as Hector opened and immediately retreated back from the door. Then a surge of pain shuttered at her body. It was as if she had been dropped onto a spread of pins. The bullets riddled her body, causing the girl to stumble from the sheer force and brunt of the attack. Soon the gunfire ended, and what remained was a bloodied body filled with bullets.

The girl was still standing. Slowly the bullets popped out of the body. They clattered onto the floor as the girl's flesh quickly regenerated from her body. It was a true marvel of potentiality to be able to survive a barrage of the bullet at such close range.

Though for the attacker, it would be a grave mistake. A growl escaped from the cannibalistic girl, and in a roar, she ran in. Her mind was a blank page painted with blood. She wanted nothing more to feast. What would they taste like? Would they be crunchy? Sweet? Perhaps a little bitter? She wanted to taste all the flavors of the human body. A precious nectar that made her head hurt.

Bullets began to fire, but that didn't stop her advance. Charging at the man, she swung down with an intense force that, if it wasn't for the target's quick reaction, would have crushed him. A huge crack formed on the floor, and the girl turned to attack the man once more.

WhiskeyMarten

 

[tityanya]

𝑁𝑜𝑎𝑚 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜

I am here: Nikolai's Mansion
With: Niko
Scene: Revenge Best Served à La Mode
Time: 6:15 PM || November 7, 2019 || Pre-arc 1​

"Everybody gets high"

〖 Noam and Niko looked at each other in a standoff for a moment, each of them sizing each other up, probably. From what Noam could tell, Niko was very drunk. He used a pillow to brace himself, before stumbling over towards Noam. A smirk came to Noam's face as slurring, mumbling Niko asked who would spend that much time at a bar. "Not technically a bar. Although there are bartenders there," Noam answered, watching as Niko progressively got closer. He wasn't a touchy-feely person, Noam knew that. In fact, he was a "I'm taking a shower if you even look at me funny" kind of person. So as Niko's arm outstretched towards him, Noam awkwardly held out his own--only for Niko to swerve around him and grab a bottle of whiskey. Oh, yeah. That made way more sense. Noam put his arm down, feeling a little disappointed, which confused him. His love language was physical touch, after all, and the ecstasy was making that...stronger, to say the least. But he knew better. The look Niko gave when you touched him even on accident...

Niko stumbled back to the couch, whiskey in hand and his feet resting on the armrest. He looked like a tragic figure at the therapist in the movies--did that make Noam the therapist? Noam took a seat opposite Niko, crossing his leg over his knee and resting his head on his hand, his elbow on his knee. If they were therapist and patient, Noam wanted to look the part. Even in his cheetah-patterned shirt and dilated eyes. Some therapists had to look just like him, sometimes. "Tell me about how shitty your life has been lately, Niko," Noam said, adopting his best level-toned therapist voice (or what he guessed a therapist would sound like.)

Niko took his cigarette out of his mouth as he told his story of woe. Noam could practically see the girl he was talking about, hip jerking on the floor next to Niko. Or maybe that was a hallucination. But either way, Noam knew exactly who Niko was talking about--that crappy model Mielle. She had been fucked up that day. Noam had been high on cocaine, of course, as that was Nao's drug of choice, but at least that had made her more efficient at her job, not...whatever the fuck was going on with Mielle. Noam gave a small chuckle as he thought about what Niko had said to her--"Dying pelican girl," he said out loud, so Niko would hopefully know that Noam wasn't laughing at him. Well, Niko was laughing at him, but him from the past. Not present him.

Niko sat up in his chair, his voice growing shriller, more manic. Noam could feel his heart starting to beat fast, as his body began to try and match Niko's energy. He sat enraptured by Niko's story, barely even breathing as Niko told him about how Jeremy Fritz had stolen his design. "That fucking bastard!" Noam roared, just as upset now as Niko was. How dare that second rate designer steal a design from Niko. And then to brag about it online? Niko's designs were one-of-a-kind. Even if it was true and he designed it, he was bragging about being a second-rate copy of a far superior designer.

Niko describing his violent fantasy against both model and designer, sewing their eyeballs to their own assholes. The image made Noam laugh a little, as he imagined little eyeballs floating around the room. "While violence is fun in the short term, it won't really help with the image in the media. But what you do have is a shapeshifting friend who loves to cause chaos and wreak havoc," Noam told him, a plan starting to formulate in his head. A little bit of reputation ruining before a grand finale.〗

"why the hell can't I?"​

((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((Everybody Gets High))​

Caffeine_Obsessed

 

[thebigfella]

Shishido Takakazu

CS Link

SCENE:

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

LOCATION:

West District

PARTICIPANTS:

Shishido Takakazu, Dante Aguilar ( Haze- )

Returning Back Something You Don’t Own Is Basically Childbirth

In his laser focus on nipple-scouting, Tak didn’t even spare a thought to the peanut gallery in the background that was Dante’s critique of this classic film. Even if he had heard it, he probably would have given Dante trouble for it, not caring that he had been forced to rewatch the same scenes repeatedly for the past hour or so, not that Tak was keeping track.

Though, when Tak had finally torn his face away from the screen to badger the man to rewind the film again, he was out of his own head enough to actually listen to what Dante was saying, the first words leaving his mouth being nothing but a childish way of making fun of him. Tak’s expression didn’t shift as he looked up at Dante from his kneeling position, the shifting colors of the screen casting over his face as his pupil-less dull eyes looked up at the fellow Tiger from his kneeling state, reflecting the same energy as the listless and uninterested look in Dante’s, almost as if they were annoyed at being in each others company.

“I was assuming your eyesight was on its way out because you always wear those damn sunglasses outside, but I didn’t know your hearing was failing too,” Tak riposted casually, a bite lacking in venom as he shifted from his kneeling position to swivel around and sit on his ass, propping one leg up as he crossed his arms, “Just grab the remote already.”

Tak once again ordered Dante to rewind the tape for his areola-searching pleasure, clearly forgetting that the remote was placed on top of the TV until Dante pointed it out to him, watching as the slightly larger man leaned past him. To Tak, it almost seemed like the remote had appeared out of nowhere, considering he couldn’t see anywhere as well in the dark as Dante.

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” Tak genuinely admitted, a rare occasion for him as he blinked with wide-open eyes as his brows raised, briefly bewildered by his forgetfulness as his shrunken mouth hung open slightly.

“Your fault for havin’ this apartment so damn dark,” He quickly rebounded, his confusion shifting into the proper annoyance at someone else instead of placing the blame on himself, glaring over at Dante as he titled his head in the opposite direction of his eyes, raising a hand to give a dismissive wave towards the man’s suggestion of simply recording the tape and going on home.

“Don’t be an idiot. How am I supposed to make out any nipples on my shitty TV?” Tak asked rhetorically, somehow implying it was Dante’s fault that he had to come over here and bum off his TV instead of using his own, dropping his hand to place it against the rug as his gaze narrowed towards the bright TV screen.

“Plus, I’m not doing this just to get my rocks off; this is about tradition. Recluses like you who didn’t spend their time outside throwing rocks at drug addicts and getting their daily dose of vitamin D as a kid wouldn’t understand,” Tak began to ramble, the room seeming to shift around him as he looked up toward the ceiling, the walls fell away as his surroundings went from the gloomy apartment to a large grassy field, the sun basking down on his back. At the same time, his head dipped back toward the ground, and his messy hair shadowed his eyes.

“There’s a time when one goes from a boy who stares at bikini magazines through the convenience store window to a man. Most would think it’s when you finally find your dad’s secret stash, taking one of his porno mags for your own….” He elucidated this story of youth, butterflies floating past him as birds flew above, a powerful gust of wind rustling his hair and the wrinkles of his clothing.

“But that isn’t the case! There’s the only time when boys truly become men!” Tak erupted, raising his hand to clench the sun between his fist, crushing it as a bright glow encompassed the entire screen. The white vacuum was left devoid of scenery until what faded in was a pair of nameless, unknown kids kneeling next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, as they bored their eyes into the television that sat in front of them. One with a clean-cut black bob cut and the other with messy brown hair.

“When you trick your parents into letting you rent a movie with nudity, and you get your first glimpse of a woman’s body on the screen….”

As the TV light intensified, both boys raised their arms to shield their eyes from the all-encompassing glare, squinting as they tried to adjust to the sudden illumination. But, as they saw through the glow, their eyes lit up wide as their mouths hung open, and a voice came from the speakers.

“KYYAAAAAAA!~”

“That is when you truly become a man!” Tak’s voice-over returned as the screen faded into white, snapping back to reality as Tak sat in the middle of the room with his hand raised in the air, among awkward silence that surrounded him because of his incredibly inane tangent about youth and pornography.

His tight fist slowly relented as he dropped it down to slide it into his pocket, looking back at Dante over his shoulder with a pitying frown, “You only don’t get the appeal because you’re still a boy,” He sneered before turning back to focus on the movie again.

Only to have his head snap around in the other direction, doing a complete 180 like an owl as the skin around his neck coiled like a screw to look back at Dante as he offered popcorn. “Extra butter.” He flatly stated before twisting his head around to look at the TV.

As the sound of the shower running and peaceful humming came through the television again, Tak immediately dropped back down on all fours once more, hopping towards the tv set like a frog to wrap his hands around the shell surrounding the screen.

“I’m gonna catch it this time! I’m goddamn sure of it!”

As Tak once again expressed his single-minded drive to capture a peak at the vintage teatshow, he suddenly felt a weight that wasn’t there before, catching him off guard and leading his head to drop slightly and drag his nose and lips, stuck behind because of the friction.

He held that position for a moment, hand moving away from the side of the television to reach toward his head with a shaky grip, the veins pulsing from his fingers as annoyance was evident in the twitching of his digits. But, lucky for the feline, its father saved it before Tak could get a hand on it, leaving the brute only to grasp at thin air as the cat was picked up in a blur.

As Dante coddled his furry child, Tak pulled himself away from the screen, listening as Dante insulted his thick disorderly hair, the brute glancing over his shoulder to leer at the tattoo artist as he rose from his kneeling position to stand up and turning around to actually look straight at Dante for the first time since the movie began.

There was a moment of silence when Tak blankly gawked at Dante, his simplified expression trading away his nose and mouth to just bring focus on his flat-colored eyes, lacking in highlights. Until, abruptly, his hand slid upwards from the bottom of the screen with his phone in hand, the flash on it lighting up like a spotlight as it blasted Dante with pure white.

“Ooooh! Sorry about that! I just thought I saw a booger in your nose and wanted to make sure!” Clearly lying about his intentions, Tak wore a sadistic grin as he subjected Dante to his phone flashlight at full blast, but he didn’t drag it on long, quickly snapping it back off and dropping his phone back to his side as she took a more miffed countenance.

“I don’t wanna hear complaints about my hair from a guy who looks like he got drawn on by his little sister while he was sleeping. Did she draw her favorite purple pony in marker around your groin too?” Tak taunted, pointing directly at Dante’s crotch without a sense of shame as he threw back his sling of insults.

It seemed like the two hated each other; why were they even hanging out?!