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

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(NPC) Debora Hillclad
SCENE:
Everyone's a Critic
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, July 9th 2022
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Takakazu
Everyone's a Critic
Hillclad hummed in agreement, her stylized side locks bobbing up and down, stretching and contracting rythmically. "It's the least I can do for all the generous people that let me chase my dreams, and also hopefully making the world a slightly better way in the process." She tilted her head, hands interlocked together and cushioning her terse cheek, her eyes closed softly, feeling enamored by her own ideals and goals.

"I like to pour in my all in every single one of my pieces" She explained, walked to the man's side, her tone shifting to a more solemn and austere one. "The art world is fiercely competitive, everyone's at each other's throats constantly...But I like to see it differently" She extended her index finger, the tip gently hovering just half and inch from the canvas' surface, slow ondulating movements imitating the act of painting, as if pretending to finish the piece. "I like to think that I'm my only competition, and that my growth depends on how much of my soul I can put out, for everyone to lay their eyes upon.

"Sounds like you really know your stuff about art!" She piped in, keeping her hands behind her back, he shoulders perking up in a sheepish manner. "Not like I'm that surprised, word reached to me that you're a famous." She looked away, collecting bits and pieces of her memory. "...Mr. Nayak, wasn't it?"

Tak's sudden gesture took her by surprise, her body going stiff for a moment, her mouth agape and eyes visibly puzzled. Her upper torso leaned back as the man got uncomfortably close. "Oh, u-uh I'm flattered but I don't think I can just-"

"Oh you're fucking dead meat now!"
Boris wasted no time leaving his position, the tiled floor rumbled under his mighty steps, steel baton already in the process of winding back, reaching well above the height of his shoulders, the orange lights of the stage beside them reflecting strongly against the darkened metal, as well as his polished bald head.

"Hold up, Boris..."

The guard's arm twitched as it came to a sudden halt. "Ma'am?" His jaw hung low, almost as if the woman's very order paralyzed him entirely. Not that there was any supernatural influence at play, nay, he just didn't want to get fired for the fourth time this year.

"You..." The woman sounded different, almost as if in disbelief. In just a few seconds, her eyes had trailed their way up. From the rough and poorly-conditioned hands that breached all manner of personal space, to the fashion disaster that at one point used to be a really nice suit, all the way to the critic's face, more specifically his now-uncovered eyes, those pearl tinted like bog-water, usually devoid of life.

She brought her hand up, clasping at the man's cheeks, her fingertips sinking into his dry and coarse skin, the woman's own face coming even closer to his, pure focus written all over her.

"...You're incredible!"

She skipped to the side, grasping at the man's wrist with a lady-like grip, before suddenly yanking at him. "You're coming with me right now!" He dragged the man away with an energetic gait. Leaving Boris right where he stood, alone, wondering just what the fuck was wrong with the artsy folks.


CAMILA GASPARI
SCENE:
Everyone's a Critic
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, July 9th 2022
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Takakazu
Everyone's a Critic
Several minutes had passed since Camila began her scavenging hunt within Hillclad's office, a timeframe that wouldn't sound alarming in most scenarios, but to the silver-tailed woman, every passing second spelled further doom for her. She could only hope that Tak did good on his part of the task, to KEEP HILLCLAD AWAY FROM THE OFFICE, surely an order that simple would be impossible to misinterpret, even for a meathead like him. For every piece of paper she scoured, every other was neatly put back in its place, she wasn't planning to leave the office without making sure it looked as pristine as it was kept the moment she came in, lest she arose unnecessary suspicion in the near future.

"There's no way this bitch's clean." She whispered to herself, fingernails scratching at her snowy locks in frustration. "What do people even see in her? All those paintings are all a buncha bullshit!" She held her arms up, ranting to herself as she made careful steps around the office. "I bet they all just care about her ass, even Tak, I'm sure." She placed a palm against an oak wardrobe, of which she had already checked out inside. She leaned over the piece of furniture, letting the weight of her upper half be held on her arm.

She snapped at the feeling of her balance going off, the wardrobe tilting with a low creak to it. Apparently it was a lot lighter than it seemed originally, the woman throwing herself back to recover her footing, rotating her arms quickly to offset the momentum of her backstep. "All that money and she still gets shitty quality like t- Huh?" Emerald eyes had their attention robbed by an enveloped that danced and swayed in the air, as it slowly fell to the floor. Camila just managed to noticed that it slid off from the top of the wardrobe, immediately making the woman suspicious.

"Alright...This better be good." Her wire-like appendage wiggled in excitement, the envelope now held firmly by the woman's fingertips. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the piece of paper, it was blank, no addresses or watermarks of any kind, yet it wasn't empty, as light as it might be. Fingernails tore at the opening, clawing at the paper withing. A crumble envelope bounced twice on the floor before rolling away, ruined by a veteran who's patience had now ran low.

"...Fuck does this mean?" The contents of the paper were both unassuming and surprising at the same time. Names were listed through the length of the sheet, but it was these very names that earned Camila's curiosity: Some of the written names, they were from the people Camila's contact had told her about, the ones claiming Hillclad plagiarized, before they could even have their own originals finished.

The name's were listed by themselves, however. Each one of them was accompanied by a series of words in each row, separated in commas, they seemed to be layed out with no seeming rhyme or reason. Common words like 'Waterfall' or 'Sunset' were written down, seemingly mundane things, but alongside them, at least once per row, there would be something a little more eye-catching, such as 'Will of Humanity' or 'Consequences of uncaring ambition'. The woman squinted at the myriad of words, partly to understand their meaning, and partly because of the darkness she foundherself in.

Her body froze, eardrum catching the faint noise of muffled voices from not too far away. A female voice, no less. She let go of the paper, desperately throwing her arms around to catch the flowing sheet, before both together managed to grasp at it, damaging its delicate smoothness in the process. The voices from afar grew louder and clearer, not quite enough to discern their meaning, but alarming enough to set her fight or flight instinct into gear. She needed to move her ass, and she needed to do it NOW.

"And here we are!" The door of the office burst open with a merciless push of Hillclad's moccha-toned hand, the back slamming against the wall its hinges were drilled at.

"Mi casa es tu casa, Mr. Nayak!" She twirled behind her, standing in the middle of the now well-lit room, extending her arms welcomingly. She headed over to the velvety red couch from across the office, taking a seat on the pillowy furniture. "Now now, come here! We've some talking to do." She chirped, excitedly patting at the empty half of the couch.

At the other end of the room lied a lone wardrobe of curiously low-quality wood, from the slit of its nearly closed door, a faint glint of emerald could be spotted by whoever cared to focus enough on it.


thebigfella thebigfella
 
Welsha Reaper
SCENE:
What's the Tea
LOCATION:
Moonflower Cafe, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Yona Kowloong @CasualTea , Welsha Reaper
What's the Tea

Welsha maintained her smile as Yona went through the choice between classical and pop music, but before Welsha could even comment on it a crack of the wind shield snapped them both out of their focus. Welsha looked towards the wind shield and the all too familiar sight of a bullet hole, Welshas smile quickly turned into a frown as she realized what was happening, though she had to admit Yonas reflexes were impeccable to say the least and she had a few suspicions on why that is but she couldn't muse on that thought now as they had to deal with a different problem. It seemed pretty clear that whoever the people after them were, they were specifically targeting Yona, as the bullet seemed to be clearly meant for them. While Yona was slightly panicked Welsha remained completely calm, this situation being nothing new to them as they have been in situations like this before, though sometimes she did have the comfort of bullet proof glass, that sadly wasn't the case this time. With Yonas erratic driving it was pretty much impossible to discern the location of the sniper, though it also helped make them a harder target so it seemed like a fair trade off. Still though it was pretty easy to tell that there was in fact not one sniper as it seemed that no matter where they went another bullet would hit Yonas car.

Welsha for her part kept a close attention to everything, even picking up on Yonas accent when she let it slip, as frantically asked if they knew any spots where they can get away from these snipers. Welsha for her part nodded before saying "Take the next right, a few ways ahead you will want to go left and there should be a place with a underground parking garage." a underground parking garage seemed like the perfect place to get away from a sniper fire, but it was overall a short term solution as it would keep sniper fire off them but they would still have to leave at some point which would give whoever was after them time to regroup. But there was still a possibility of that parking Garage being a trap and that would be another team of people in there to take them down once they enter, but that would mean that the people after her either know the area or had made extensive preparations and plans for that scenario though that would of meant the expected Yona to be in this area at around this time. She had too little intel about who exactly was pursuing them and how their mind worked to make accurate judgement on what to expect from them, so she opted to just let Yona make the decision for herself. "There should be another parking garage farther up ahead of that one if you suspect it may be trapped by your friends over there, but that would mean you having to weave through this mess of bullets and traffic for a bit more. Though if you think that the people perusing you didn't account for you knowing the area or probably rushed this little sniper hell trap too fast to account for areas where you could catch a break from them, then I would say that the closest parking garage may be a good bet." Welsha had given Yona a glimpse into her strategic and her more serious side, a slight slip up that she would more than likely try to brush off later, but as of right now in the moment she was completely focused on the task at hand which was assist Yona in getting away from this unseen enemy.
 
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Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
Everyone's A Critic
LOCATION:
Feralia Art Gallery, Central District
DATE:
June 30th, 2022 || Pre-Arc 3
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila ( Roda the Red Roda the Red ), Takakazu
Everyone's A Critic

Tak was never a charmer; he was a stumbler, more than anything. Anytime he found himself in a situation, it was usually without him realizing. It had always been that way, even if he never learned. Legends and history would deem this a failure, that a sharp slap or a disgusted retraction from his dry grasp would await him.

Of course, such doubts didn’t lie within Tak. He was fully confident and foolhardy in his masculine charms. A natural-born casanova who used cheap body spray and free cologne samples from magazines combed his hair once a month and used dish soap instead of detergent to wash his clothes, Tak was irresistible!

Yet, as hands suddenly grasped at the side of his face, mushing his cheeks enough to make his lips push together and open like a fish, the sudden enthusiasm, warmth, and the aroma of expensive perfume.

There were audible blinks as a visible air of confusion dismissed the act of the prince charming, enthusiastic art critic as he looked at Hillclad, drool beginning to dribble down his mushed lips.

“Eh?”

Suddenly, he was being grabbed, and then he was being pulled, shoes dragging across the ground as he looked behind him with dilated pupils and raised brows.

“EEHHHHHHHH!?”

He looked between Hillclad, who was holding him so tightly, and where he had previously stood, a blinking silhouette of his outline that highlighted the position he had moments ago. He took one glance at Hillclad’s grip around his wrist until looking back up with disbelief.

Immediately, his expression changed, a raised fist, defined creases and shadows within his knuckles as his jaw sharply protruded, smile lines pulling taught as his brow knitted together in triumph, body quaking in excitement.

“YOSHAAAA!” Tak roared at his success; he held this pose as he was pulled down the stage steps; Tak gave one gaze towards Boris as he was tugged away like a doll and teasingly decided to place his hands on his junk, a cocky smirk on his face as he shook them around like a pouch of coins, not forgetting the air hump afterward, before giving a soundless charade of a laugh in the guard's direction before they both disappeared toward a hallway.

Finally, Tak twisted himself around, pulling himself out of Hillclad’s grip and just sliding his wrist back into place once he was facing the same direction, jogging right next to her to match her pace as he looked towards her with a casual smile, a dopey look on his face. This is a change of pace for me; I usually gotta do a bit more beggin’ for this!” Tak admitted before leaning forward a bit towards the woman, “You’re pretty loose with showing off, huh?” he asked, with half-lidded eyes.

Luckily, before the conversation could degrade any further, they had stopped in front of a door. Finally free from her grasping fingers, Tak rubbed his hands together, the sounds of his dry skin mimicking the sounds of rubbing fabric as he stepped in behind the woman’s grandiose entrance into her office.

Another fancy room, which had all at this point blended together into the acceptance that anywhere he could fit a bed and T.V. into would be better than his apartment, but Hillclad’s office stood out as a particular space that ignited the feelings of jealousy. It was virtually the size of his office, with nice carpet and wallpaper that wasn’t chipping off. She had a better couch; hell, she even had a closet with a closet monster!

“Rich people really have everything,” he remarked internally, closing his eyes and letting out a small huff of defeat. However, the realization hit him along with the chill of death that coursed through his clenching veins, and his bloodshot eyes stared toward the closet.

“Closet monster!?” He nearly blurted out; it didn’t take him long to recognize whose eyes they were, the familiar sting of damnation and judgment, the harsh sharpness of daggers into his flesh. There was a twitch in his brow as he felt Camila’s palpable anger.

“She’s angry, huh…?” Tak flatly realized a small bead of sweat on the side of his face. He had directly gone against what she had requested, keeping her away from the office. He had forgotten.

However, there was a more pressing matter annoying him about this situation.

“How am I supposed to get Little T workin’ with her staring at me like that?!” Lightning sparks roared through Tak’s body as he clutched at the sides of his head, shaking it in despair. Unfortunately, having a voyeur wasn’t precisely what he had planned, especially not from the lady he was working with. Maybe if it was like a maid or something...

However, it was in that despair that an idea came to his mind, a visible exclamation point above his head as he turned to glance at Hillclad. An epiphany passed through his hollow skull as he spun the rest of his body around to face her, putting on a neutral expression as he walked over to the couch.

Before abruptly stopping, feigned surprise on his face as his eyes widened, hopping up on one leg as his tongue wildly shot out from his mouth as he let out a scream, pointing over to a corner of the room, “WHAT IS THAT!? IS THAT A ROACH!?” He blurted out in an unmasculine shriek, but as soon as Hillclad’s eyes moved away from him to look over where he pointed, his gaze narrowed and sharpened; he took off in a sprint and dove over the couch above Hillclad like a gymnast, combat rolling across the ground up to the wardrobe, and quickly grasped at its handles.

He matched Camila’s gaze for a moment, a “Just trust me” look on his face as he nodded before quickly closing the closet shut, leaving the veteran in the darkness. Quickly, Tak sprung up to his feet, and in a blur that bunched the carpet up under his feet, he was suddenly sitting next to Hillclad on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other as he leaned against the backrest, arms hugged behind his neck.

“Hmm, my eyes are playing tricks on me. It must have been the tooth fairy,”
Tak casually played it off with a dismissive wave before he turned to Hillclad again. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on the sofa, acting as a small barrier between them both as his lips curled into a smirk. "Now, where were we?”

 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
[Late-Night Chase]
TIME:
Nighttime, Post Arc 1
LOCATION:
Aksher Co. Offices, Sound District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Minato
Late-Night Chase
The man looked triumphant, content with whatever he had done to the computer in front of them. His actions didn't appear to be all that suspicious, albeit Charlie wasn't exactly the most tech savvy guy around...His brow, however, couldn't help but raise at the display.

The criminal found the weight on his shoulders to disappear, leaving only a pair of sunken depressions that quickly rose up to shape. A hand grabbed at his shoulder, pulling back, the chair rotated a hundred and eighty degrees, leaving the intruder facing the guard. A brief flash of light suddenly overwhelmed the perpetrator, the boy smiling innocently from behind his device. "Look at that!" Chirped Charlie, lifting his shades to look better at his phone's screen. "You're so photogenic!"

Before Minato had any chance of taking any drastic action, he was forced off the ground by a hand clawing at the back of his hoodie. "I'm glad we've got the job done!" His smile remained ever-static, almost ominously so. "And best part is, if it just so happened that I find out you lied to me, I have your face now!"

The smile disappear, the amber of his eyes almost penetrating through the dark lenses. "And I'll make sure to pay you back tenfold for this little trick." Their heads had reached an unsettlingly short distance, a wordless exchange of glances that felt like it lasted for an entire minute, even if it was only for a few seconds at most. "Oh well! Let's get you out of here now."

Carrying the man once again over his shoulder, the guard made a hasty trip through the front door, his conscious colleagues having fortunately left the building to tend for their own wounds by now. All the while, he squished his phone between the side of his head and his shoulder, talking over the emergency line to call for an ambulance.

"Now get the hell out here." Charlie growled, letting the man fall on his feet inside of the hall's elevator, the morning sunlight reflecting on his face. He stared at the tangerine rising dawn through the large executive windows.

"I'm gonna get some good sleep after this crap."



Elenion Aura Elenion Aura
 
HECTOR MOSES & BOLTIUS BECKMAN
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, Pei, YY
NEW PHOENIX GOLDEN AGE

”They ain’t gonna think I’ve given up on her, are they?”

Hector pulled the curtain back. Just barely enough for him to stick one eye between the gap that went unnoticed by the crowd outside. Word always travelled way too quickly, and as predicted, everyone wanted to be the first to know what all the fuss was about. Why would Hector Moses be gathering an audience? There were only so many options. At least he trusted the guards at the door.

Boltius stood against the back wall, arms crossed and stern of expression, saying nothing. For now.

”Or… I’m trying to replace her? Because I’m not!” He let the curtain fall, walking to the desk in the room. He couldn’t hear any murmings below them, in the lobby where the guests had gathered, but he felt all their eyes watching them even as he hid away in one of the many disused offices. A few sheets were scattered, the bullet points of a speech scrawled in messy handwriting. He looked down at them with disgust.

Hector hated the old Bank of Amestria. He hated its decadence. He hated the shiny stone floors, and the pillars, and the way the sunlight shone through the giant windows, basking everyone in its glory. Hosting his guests here, and not at Red West, or a warehouse, or some other shithole was perhaps the most telling sign that something big was coming. It was somewhere more appreciated by the monarchs of old. The lobby’s interior had been gutted of its bank identity long ago, with a stage and podium being built opposite to the now-locked main entrance. He hadn’t seen any of his guests yet, confining himself upstairs while he prepared, but trusted that they had all made it to HQ safely.

Approaching the desk to stand across from Hector, Bolt adopted a soft gaze. “Uhh… I mean… I think… I think everyone’s gonna understand, if yer really askin’ me. Lyric wouldn’t want the seat to get dusty, and you already see all the bullshit that’s came from her not bein’ here an’ us running around half-cocked. How much longer ‘til the big gangs start takin’ action, y’know? All that shit with Armond says we gotta get that spot filled and the Phoenixes back in four-wheel-drive.”

”Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I already knew this was right, just… Y’know how some people get. There’s gonna be bullshit to deal with either way.” Hector grimaced for a moment, but adopted a more encouraging look as he stared at Boltius. ”This might be the easiest step anyway. It’ll be the promotions that’ll be hard to deal with. I should figure stuff out soon on my end, don’t have much more time to linger on it. You figured it out yet on yours?”

Boltius rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “My end?…” he repeated, sounding uncertain. “It’s just… Boltius Beckman, Queen of the Phoenixes?… Feels like it might not have the ring to it that some’re lookin’ for but, hey, neither did Hector Moses,” he laughed, recalling the past, but quickly adopted a more serious demeanor as he continued, “But… Reika believed you could do it, and you believed the same of me.” He had a goal now, not just blind racing toward an invisible finish line.

“Do I think I’m the best for it?” Boltius asked himself then shook his head, “Nah… nobody’s perfect stepping up, but I have the potential to be. There’s just still a lot to think about, so, nah, I ain’t got it all figured out but I think I’ve got an idea. ‘S just a matter of whether or not they’re interested.”

”Reika left a lot for me to live up to, but we did it together. And we’ll tackle this next chapter together too. You’re more capable than everyone-” Hector jabbed a finger to Boltius’s chest. ”-there put together. We’ll show them. Let me know if they’re interested. Don’t rush into any decisions, but once we have a team, we can show this whole fucking city why we’re the future Emperors of New Oasis.” Hector maneuveured around the desk, and held his arm out for Boltius to take in a brotherly handshake.

Rubbing his chest, Boltius blinked at Hector’s outstretched hand, giving the words of encouragement time to sink in. When they did, he smiled, and he took the Queen’s hand in a tight shake. “It’s a fuckin’ prophecy.”

Looking into Hector’s eyes, he was reminded of everything they’d been through together until now. The times they bitched, fought, and gave each other the cold shoulder, and the times they cheered each other on, had each other’s backs, and partied like brothers. A spark of resolution where he didn’t know he needed it ignited within. More than anyone else, Boltius knew it was Hector he could count on in the most trying of times. And right there, with their hands locked together, he made a silent promise.

“Now, let’s get this shit rollin’. I wanna be the first to take shots with the new King,” saying that, Boltius slapped Hector on the arm, grinning wide.

“Right, right.” Hector let himself enjoy a quick chuckle as he grabbed the notes off of the desk. They weren’t great, but he’d rather have them than not. ”They’re gonna think we’re announcing my death if I linger up here any longer.” That wasn’t so funny, but he had to get serious for this anyway. He brushed off the dust that had accumulated on him while they waited, and opened the door.

He could hear some activity now as he strode across the hallway towards the staircase that would lead to his people. Surely they would hear his footsteps too.

”I hope I’m not gonna sound like one of those parasites in the capitol.” He looked back at Boltius, lowering his voice to a whisper. ”Short and sweet, that’s all I need. They know me and what I stand for already.”



A few dozen people milled around the lobby. Without any furniture - Hector hadn’t the foresight to provide any food, drink, or chairs - the area was spacious, and members collected into their own cliques, occasionally swapping to mingle with another group. Some of the Phoenixes were young, which made sense given the gang’s high mortality rate, but many were old. Canes and crutches clacked against the floor, and raspy, worn-out voices made themselves heard among the crowd. Far past their prime, but still part of the family, and there was no chance of Hector disrespecting his elders on such an occasion. All voices were hushed in an instant, as a side door creaked, and out he came.

”Thank you all for coming.”

Any intense expression he may have been carrying before was dropped as his face softened, seeing his family waiting for him. He looked to the podium, and back to the group of onlookers, stuffing his notes into a pocket as he walked up to those closest.

”Hope you all made it safely this morning, I- and Bolt- we’re so glad to get the chance to talk with you all. Are you all well?” Hector stepped aside to allow Boltius to stand beside him, to greet his friends. Before Hector was a politician or a monarch, he was a son, a brother.

 
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YONG-YUT SOMSRI
SCENE:
Playing With Fire
TIME:
July 17th, 2022
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Vulken, Yong-Yut, Passeri, Dagger
Playing With Fire
While Vulken greeted the idol and her escort, Yong-Yut glanced around the parking lot. It was empty, save for the two cars the group arrived in and the vehicles she could assume belonged to the staff. Was it just going to be them? She didn’t know whether to feel better or worse about being here. It seemed like a pretty traditional place, though. The ramen was gonna be good…

Yong-Yut followed close behind Vulken and Amelie as they approached the building. Her sharp eyes trailed over to the duo— noting their surprise. Goddamnit, Vulken, why didn’t you tell them? “Sorry,” she murmured out. Embarrassment clouded her head. At least Vulken wasn’t the only one to bring someone…

Once they made it inside, Yong-Yut’s suspicions were confirmed. They were completely alone here, save for the staff. And she had decided how she felt about it—bad, considering she wasn’t exactly invited here. Regardless, she was here already. She couldn’t really back out now.

She sat down on Vulken’s left, fixing her eyes down at the table. How much privacy did this conversation need? She knew Passeri was an idol and all but… Mm. It wasn’t Yong-Yut’s thing to judge.

—Oh, she was being addressed. She glared at Vulken for a split second (why didn’t he introduce her?) before directing her gaze to Passeri. The scarf around Yong-Yut’s neck shifted, bent, and pulled itself into a hand, reaching out towards the woman. A hand shake.

“Yong-Yut,” she greeted softly, eyeing the celebrity. “We didn’t exactly meet. But I was there during the bridge rebuilding.” She looked over to the woman beside Passeri, glancing over her. She didn’t recognize the lady— neither in face nor personality. Looking back at the idol, she nodded. “Thanks.”

The scarf fell down over Yong-Yut’s shoulder, returning to its original not-hand state. She leaned back in the seat. Letting Vulken take the lead in the conversation, she looked around the restaurant. Hopefully, they'd get fed soon…



The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit Nobody Special Nobody Special simj26 simj26
 
Boltius "BLITZ" Beckman
SCENE:
Hot and Bothered
TIME:
Post-Arc 2 — January 11th, 2022
LOCATION:
South district, Phoenix HQ; Fitness Hotspot
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Charlie
HOT AND BOTHERED
Charlie wrapped her arms around Boltius and Boltius returned the gesture with a little more hesitation, smiling nonetheless. “Speakin’ facts,” he said in response to her little: “You’re the best!~”

Not a moment later, she withdrew from the hug, bashful, and apologized, but Boltius shook his head. “Nah, it’s cool.” Though, he would have been lying had he said he didn’t feel, at least, a pinch awkward. But that was Bolt—professional playboy, regularly taking girls home from the bars without fail, until his company was a girl with an innocence about her.

Sweet girls. That was his type. They made him act different. Even better, a sweet girl who can fight.

“I think the ball court sounds best,” she decided, continuing. As she spoke, her body language struck Boltius as nothing other than adorable. He listened with his arms crossed and a smile. Then, at the offer for dinner, he raised a brow, “Oh, shit, really?”

“I insist, it's my treat!”

“Alright then, it’s a date,” he joked.

The two soon parted ways—Charlie to the locker rooms to wash up, and Boltius outside to put his gym bag in his Denali where he kept three duffel bags at all times; one was for the gym, one was filled with various liquors for partying on the go, and the other for gang business of which the contents varied from day to day by necessity. Stowing the gym bag with the rest, he slammed the trunk door shut and moved around the Denali to wait by the passenger-side door.

Several Phoenixes passed him by, making their arrival or taking their leave, and while the most recent of rookies overlooked his presence, each of the more established Phoenixes paid him a greeting, a handshake, or even stopped to chat—see what he was up to.

Minutes went by before he saw Charlie exiting the fitness spot, at which point he quickly cut his conversation with another Phoenix short and stepped aside to hold the passenger door open. “I figured we’d take my ride since I know the way,” he told her when she neared, waiting for her to get in, afterward joining her side as he occupied the driver’s seat.

“It’s not too far- maybe, like, thirty minutes, but we’ve got music so…” Shoving the key into the ignition, giving it a turn, the Denali roared to life. Having removed the muffler from his exhaust, also known as an illegal muffler delete, it made for a rather thunderous and, as Yong-Yut would put it, obnoxiously loud ride. But that was his style.

Handing his company the aux, Boltius shifted the Denali into drive, maintaining the brake for now, and told her, “Play whatever. I’m interested to hear your tastes. You can bluetooth, too, it’s just quicker to wire in.”

(Interacting w/ Charlie)
(Mentioned Yong-Yut)
Roda the Red Roda the Red gxxberkit gxxberkit
 
Zentsupa Pei
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
TIME:
July 20th, 2022 | | Post-Outbreak
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, YY
New Phoenix Golden Age

Friends, brothers, family. They had all piled together, birds of a feather and their flock. It was an open space where anyone could peer into their cage and threaten to stick their fingers. How enticing it was. Something so tasteful would encroach on those with no palate, unaware of the actual depth of the flavor that the situation provided. Mixed together by the dozen were the different walks of life that all had brought themselves underneath a similar banner, beckoned by wings of flame. They talked and discussed jokes and arguments, passing the time mindlessly within the small space, leaving them with no choice but to interact within their small world and even smaller perceptions.

A gum bubble puffed as the air was forced into it, kept sealed by thin lips. Lanky legs strode through, steps that clicked off the tiled floor, a focused cadence that paid no attention to its surroundings. Weaved through groups and stepped around pillars. They were unwelcome, uninvited, yet they scuffed the floors like they belonged underneath plain black slacks. Unremarkable clothes contrasted his distinctive appearance, spiked blonde hair, and sharpened ears.


There was a glint in his eyes that didn't hide that he was up to no good. Thoughts twirled in his brain that had no positive side to them. He directed them toward anyone interested in glancing at him, matching their gaze with his own and chuckling under his breath.

A cackling demon, one that had come with an imp upon his shoulder, the crimson bat laughing with his master as they both found joy where no one else would, lungs and diaphragm moving with their silent cackling.

"Kekekekek, quite a damn party they got here for this!" Pei blurted out, his gum bubble popping on his face, wrapping around his lips. He grasped at it and pulled it away from his mouth, taking the wad and dropping it wetly against the ground as he showed off his massive pearly whites.

When the room grew silent, Pei's expression didn't change. An expected entrance with a creak of the door, faces he had decided to mark to memory, appeared. Hector Moses? He had heard the name more than enough. Boltius was much the same. He was highly respected, that was for sure.

How quickly did they soften those expressions? Comfortable already, sure they were welcomed with the red carpet, Pei's laughing barely came above the crowd's silence as he placed a hand over his face, shaking his head. He had to wonder what the feeling was in the room. How many people were waiting for one of them to turn their back around just to pull out their spine? How many would pull out their feathers one by one until they could no longer fly?

He already knew a few, and they were only a few steps away from him.

The perception of family, such kindness represented by one who sought to be a King, was ironic to him, so ironic that he had to keep himself from breaking into a full-on cackle as he leaned against a nearby column. The shadows welcomed him softly as he placed his hands into his pockets.

He no longer cared to look at the faces of the men he had just one-sidedly met; Pei had seen enough, and now he would listen. A twisted grin on his features as the ends of his smile began to curl up his cheeks.

"I wonder how high they'll think they can perch. Kekekekek."

For now, he would wait for something fun to happen.

 
HITOSHI YAMAKAWA
CS Link
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
TIME:
July 20, 2022 || Post Outbreak
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, Pei, YY
NEW PHOENIX GOLDEN AGE
It had certainly been a hot minute since Hitoshi had been in Phoenix HQ. Sure, he'd been around and in front of it, but inside was another matter entirely. And he certainly didn't feel that worthy of being within it, given how he had been for years; a recovering drunk and drug user wasn't exactly the shining spot on the resume of the Phoenixes. Still, he felt that this was important enough to participate within, regardless of his own troubled feelings on the matter. Or, at least, it did seem important. Details were sparse, but he could fathom a guess as to what this was all about.

Inside, he was greeted with a myriad of young and old faces. In the latter were those he did recognize from back in the day. Hitoshi was getting long in the tooth himself, but he wasn't out of the game yet. He had plenty more to go all things considered, and some of the elders recognized this as he walked nearby. "Holy shit, that you 'Toshi?" asked Bruno, a senior member of the Phoenixes whose grey hairs had grown more numerous since last they saw each other. "You're looking better."

"Yeah... trying my best." Hitoshi replied with a faint smile, before walking past the group of elders - now chatting about Hitoshi's sobriety - before making his way closer to the centre of the room.

Crossing his arms, he watched as both Hector and Bolt took the stage with the former speaking up. There was a slight tenseness in the room, and so Hitoshi decided now was time to lighten the mood. "Hey Hector! Thought there'd be pizza at this joint." he asked rhetorically and with a grin.


WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean Elenion Aura Elenion Aura thebigfella thebigfella Peckinou Peckinou gxxberkit gxxberkit Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters-
 
Boltius "BLITZ" Beckman
SCENE:
Blinkers
TIME:
Post-Arc 2 — October 10th, 2021
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Boltius, Tak
BLINKERS
Boltius lounged in the bed with his back against the headboard, one knee propped up, watching his hookup for the night work her “talent”—something of a striptease that wasn’t very teasing, at all, considering she wore only a trenchcoat and some netted stockings, and she’d been switching between the same three moves for a duration of five minutes now, occasionally providing a glimpse at some thigh to show the stockings were slowly coming off. So far, nothing impressive. She could draw circles with her hips and drop it low with an audible pop in knees.

Reeling from that last bottle, Boltius couldn’t even focus, the closing of eyelids more enticing than the performance going on at the foot of the bed.

“Are you falling asleep?” he heard through the darkness, realizing he’d faded out. The bite of disappointment in her voice triggered an instinctual response—one he’d developed growing up as a result of having three whiny, snitching sisters. Eyes snapping open, Boltius sat up straight in the bed and wiped his face with both hands, “Whooop! Nope! No, no!” He shook his head, body betraying his lacking wit by tipping slowly to the side.

“How about I speed things up?”

At that, he straightened again, finding the reins to put a quick halt on his insobriety, recollecting himself. “Yeah, yeah. Er- No, sure… Whatever you want,” he played it cool.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the trenchcoat hit the floor and the tall, slender brunette seductively crawled toward him, her weight shifting the mattress, darling features illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through the large window behind the headboard. Boltius reclined back as she got closer, taking her waist in his hands.

Plump, cherry-scented lips caressed his right ear. He shut his eyes, preparing for the next development, then, “Let’s make this the last best night of your life, shall we? Mr. Ace.”

The air went still. Their bodies stiffened.

Cryptic comment aside—him being too stupid to acknowledge it as anything but, the possible poetic subliminals too advanced for even his sober mind—Boltius couldn’t recall telling her about his affiliation with the Phoenixes despite normally doing so on such affairs. Having been promoted to Ace not even two weeks ago, he’d been conducting himself with humility so as not to disrespect Reika’s circumstance. Where was the nobility in bragging about a rank he was given in consequence to the comatosing of the beloved Queen? Nowhere. Something in the way the woman fell quiet and ceased to advance their play told him that she hadn’t meant to say what she did. And that could only mean…

He caught a glimpse of the blade as it went up between his eyes, glinting as the moonlight shone upon it. She brought it down with shocking speed—enough to tell him she was no NP—but Boltius dodged it well, throwing himself off the side of the bed in a shitty maneuver that exemplified his inebriation. She, too, went with him, the two of them toppling to the floor in a heap, tangled with the satin comforters. He grunted and squirmed to get free. She snarled and hissed, thrashing this way and that.

“YOU’RE JUST MAKING IT HARDER!” Boltius yelled.

“Weird kink.”

They were freed at the same time; the woman got to her feet without delay, Boltius staggered to his, tumbled back into the nightstand, knocked over the lamp, and lousily snatched a pillow off the bed, chucking it at her face where it made contact and elicited a satisfying whoomph.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”


Eyeing vacantly the red traffic light above, Boltius’ consciousness waned. A stream of dry, cracked blood ran from his ear, down his face and neck and chest. His right eye was swollen, left cheek slit, more minor cuts and scrapes everywhere else. But to make matters worse… he’d yet taken out the time to dress himself, bare-assing the leather driver’s seat, which was as uncomfortable physically as it was mentally. He knew he had a spare set of gym-wear in the back, but getting home was his main priority.

The red hue reflecting across his face turned green but Boltius maintained the brake. There were no cars behind him nor beside him—he was alone in his idleness, save for the collection of cars parallel to him awaiting their go. When finally he did cross, before it was too late and another period of red could delay him, he found himself slamming the brake to the floor as an unmaintained scooter drifted with all the grace of a bag of aluminum cans rolling down a hill into his path.

Headlights irradiated the culprit, Boltius laying on the horn. “ARE YOU A FUCKIN’ IDIOT, DAWG!? WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

“SHUT UP WILL YA!? PEOPLE ARE TRYIN’ TO SLEEP AT THIS HOUR!”

“Uck!?” Bolt’s jaw hung. The scooter did as it does and scooted off, but Boltius wasn’t done. There in the center of the intersection, he calibrated. Having narrowly escaped an assassination attempt—the sound of police sirens responding to the commotion faded into the distance—a part of him felt wired. Sore. Drunk. Tired. Boltius wasn’t in a position to go chasing fights. Naked. But it wasn’t in his nature to let a stranger disrespect him like that.

A zap of adrenaline coursed.

Rubber squealed, the Denali’s engine roaring, and the vehicle spun into pursuit of the shitty little scooter, punching 100 in less than fifteen seconds. It’s a Denali, not a sports car. Boltius raced upon the scooter’s side, occupying the empty left of the two way street, and screamed at the man through the passenger’s-side window. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, BRO! YOU PICKED A BAAAAD FUCKIN’ NIGHT TA BE A SHITTY LITTLE COCKSUCKER!” He floored the gas, accelerated ahead of the scooter in a flash, and forcefully spun out in front of it, tires wailing, leaving black streaks in their wake. The park lights went on and the driver’s door flung open, one bare foot stepping out before the other, after which the Ace’s nudity in its entirety was revealed without shame.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move,” he demanded, disappearing around the back of the Denali, only to reappear in a pair of basketball shorts, heat radiating from his person. “You ever been boiled alive?” he asked rhetorically, marching toward the scooter-man. “You’re ‘boutta find the fuck out.”

(Interacting w/ Tak)
(Mentioned no one)
thebigfella thebigfella
 
Melody Tucker
SCENE:
INWRITCILVIODV
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 | 2020
LOCATION:
Central District | Grubtopia
PARTICIPANTS:
Melody, Tak, Cassidy (NPC)
If Nutrition Was Really Important They'd Call It Life Value Instead of Daily Value

The grocery store was huge. The concept, and the building itself. It was so big from the outside, and a maze on the inside. Wall to wall with all sorts of amenities, all curated just for its shoppers. It was truly mind blowing just how much of everything there was.

Melody was lost. She could find her way around using the signs, but there was no chance she could find a spot amongst the flow of shoppers.

She wandered around. People eyed her as she did. She couldn’t blame them; she hadn’t seen anyone else who looked quite like her.

Or maybe they eyed her daughter with more concern. Her precious four-year old that was as human shaped as they come. It made sense that anyone passing by would want to know the story behind that. How could someone that looked like her have such a normal kid? It seemed more likely to not be the case.

But Cassidy skipped by Melody’s side, her gloved right hand gripped onto hers. There were no traces of hesitation or fear in her. She hummed and clung to Melody in the way only a child could with its mother.

So, there was that to comfort her. That, and little else.

Melody hadn’t ever shopped like this before. Everything she used to have was either stolen or bartered by her siblings. But now she was fending for herself, amongst the curated shelves and sea of citizens. So how was she to know the policy? What if she picked something up, and couldn’t put it back because she accidentally broke the unspoken rules of the grocery store? She found herself hesitating as she went to look at things.

As they wandered the unknown together, Cassidy was doing a lot of the shopping. She’d force the cart to a halt and point enthusiastically at the item she wanted to purchase. So far, she had already curated a pack of apple juice boxes, a pink rubber ball, a small tub of frosting, and a large bag of potato chips. As Cassidy led her along, Melody got the courage to start picking up things they actually needed. Tomatoes, for one. She needed those for a lot of things.

In the end, Cassidy picked up whatever she wanted and Melody picked up the essential fruits and veggies. Melody could figure out their budgeting later.

Cassidy’s newest find was a brand that sold collections of baked goods kept in boxes. It was a rather large section, with a whole bookend of an aisle dedicated to it.

She couldn’t quite reach it. Melody had lost some height in the past year, but it was now that it really sunk in how she had shrunk.

The box was still visible, though. Flower-shaped shortbread cookies with chocolate in the center, where the yellow part of the flower was supposed to be.

Melody had always wondered where those cookies came from. As a teen, it was the only food Anguó ate that wasn’t made by her. She could tell it was his favorite, but she never knew where he got it from. She got her answer, but it didn’t bring her any comfort. At this point, she was sure Anguó would run off and marry this cardboard lady if he saw it. Not seriously, of course, but she felt very certain that the nostalgia would make him happier than anything she had done in the past four years.

In truth, the trip was an act of futile rebellion. Of course, she hadn’t known it at the time, but Anguó couldn’t care less if she went to the grocery store or not. He could tear her up over any aspect—that she was using his money, that she had bought foods he didn’t like, that she had bought foods he did like—but the root was the same. He cared about nothing but the fact that he saw his own wife as a traitor.

She could do anything, and it all ended the same: she would wander over the line without knowing, only realizing she did when the silence stretched thin and suffocating.

Then he would laugh, and laugh and laugh and laugh. Snort white powder and inhale multicolored pills he prescribed to himself. Stumble over to something breakable—plates, glass frames, chairs—and crush and grind them into ceramic dust, shards, and splinters. They sat sadly on the floor, questioning why they had been cast to this fate and not her.

Anguó would hold her face and laugh, and laugh and laugh as he looked up into her fear.

He dug into her skin like she might melt away if he didn’t.

“Melody. Hey, Melody, baby.”



Cassidy’s annoyed sputter and sudden grip on her bottom half brought her back to the present. The realization made Melody click her tongue as she checked on the child.

The source of Cassidy’s discomfort became immediately clear when she followed her gaze. Employees of the establishment contended her into a small space, as signified by their bright yellow shirts. But over it they wore black vests, and a small brick was attached to their hips.

“Excuse me,” One said, the monotone voice cutting underneath her skin.

Melody gripped tighter to her daughter’s hand out of instinct. She tried her best to flash a friendly smile, even though it started to melt into a wobbly line of panic.

“H-hello!” She warbled out, “Can I help you with anything…?”


 
MILO NAGISA
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
TIME:
July 20th, 2022 | | Post-Outbreak
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, Pei, YY
NEW PHOENIX GOLDEN AGE
Today was complicated. He wore his discomfort like a crumpled black sport jacket. He was dressed for a wedding. Or a funeral. The hazy middle distance stared back at his half-lidded eyes, heavy with the weight of the inevitable outcome of the day.

How do you hold two contradictory truths in your head at once?

How do you undo what's been done?

How are you supposed to save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

A murmur went up from the crowd. His eyes came alive. His body moved all on its own. He felt his back leaving the cold comfort of the stone wall as he stook an instinctive step toward the stage, hands involuntarily clenched. Rage gripped the heart within his chest; tongues of fire licked at his edges of his vision. Old feelings often died the hardest. Milo realized this as he watched Hector saunter across the stage. Quickly, he regained the run of himself. Reminded that these were naught but dying embers. Mere memories of flame. So much time had passed since that fateful day. So much had happened. Everything was different now.

Milo was different, too.

What's more, Milo had a secret.

It was a secret he didn't even dare think about, let alone speak. His thoughts might echo in a place like this. With all these Phoenixes, all these killers, packed within the confines of these four walls. How much pain would New Oasis, the world, be spared if the people in this room would just—

"..!"

As he stared ahead toward the future, Milo couldn't help but notice how much it resembled the past.

 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
Blinkers Were Invented To Help With Traffic, And To Let You Know Who The Bad Drivers Are
LOCATION:
Central District
DATE:
October, 10th 2021 || Post-Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Blinkers Were Invented To Help With Traffic, And To Let You Know Who The Bad Drivers Are

A rattling engine cruised along the road, the silent, lonely street. Tak’s deadpan look was standard as he lifelessly looked at the way ahead. His only focus was getting home to his soaps; speculations of the episode’s twist filled his usually empty mindscape. He had forgotten what had transpired a few moments ago like it had never happened; he had erased it from his memory, like anyone else he had ever slighted.

Then came the sound of a roaring engine, the pumping of catalytic converters as smoke plumed from a muffler. Tak only had half a mind to reach towards one of his crooked rearview mirrors, tilting it away from his upward-facing position that pointed towards the sky as if he was worried about a plane crashing down on him behind him. An approaching silhouette of a massive car growing behind him, he squinted to see who it was in the driver’s seat, and as he saw the enraged look of some cheese-puff-looking Neanderthal, he only blinked in annoyance. In a very “Oh, it’s that guy” way.

He didn’t bother kicking on some extra speed. Instead, he continued at his pace, deadpan as the car blurred past him, the tires screeching as what little bit of hair came out from under his helmet fluttered in the spit stream. He slowly let his moped slow to a crawl and a stop, letting the engine rumble softly as he waited to see what would happen.

The door clicked open, and then Tak’s eyebrow raised. What he was looking at was a mystery until the perspective panned over his shoulder, showing Bolt buttnaked, his privates kept shielded by Tak’s mirror.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOUR PANTS!?” An enraged shout of distress came from the Tiger’s lips, his pupils vacating from his eyes as he pointed towards Bolt, the lines outlining his form going jagged as his hair stood on on it, “THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ DRIVIN’ AROUND WITH YOUR DICK AND BALLS HANGIN’ OUT!? YOU A DAMN STREAKER!?” Tak was left leaning forward on his scooter repeatedly as he shouted, the whole thing rocking as he seemed inches away from hopping off and knocking some sense into the creep, but Bolt went back to grab some shorts and then returned like nothing ever happened, Tak was just to go back to a neutral glare.

In the face of his threat, Tak didn’t respond, the sound of crickets playing behind him as he looked upward, then to the side, “Uh,” he began, looking back towards Bolt with a smack of his lips, “If I ever boiled alive, I wouldn’t be here, I’d be dead, idiot,” he corrected him. Audible dryness in his response. He had no clue what was wrong with this freak, but he sure had some screws loose.

It was only as Bolt got closer that Tak noticed the shape of his face; there was a slight glint of recognition on his face as he looked. Cuts and swollen eyes, he had just looked like he had just gotten out of a bar fight or something.

“Fuck happened to you? You look rough,” Tak suddenly spoke in a calmer and understanding manner; after all, he had been in a similar situation. Just got off a job, fucked up beyond belief, worried about broken bones and sore muscles, and wanting nothing more than to get home; road rage was only natural. For a moment, Tak was feeling empathy, an emotion he hadn’t experienced since he was in pre-school, probably.

He stuck his hands into his pocket and produced his cheap cellphone, its cracked phone, “Shit, lemme call someone for you. That stuff doesn’t look good, man.” Tak mumbled under his breath, completely disregarding the earlier threat made on his life as the screen flipped to life.

And then, Tak’s eyes went bloodshot.

The time. 9:58. The premier of his soaps started at 10:30.

He had 30 minutes to get home, and he was in the heart of the South District.

Tak’s body quaked, his jaw clenched, his brows knitted tightly together, and his grip on his phone caused it to shake. His breath began to presperate in the air, and like a rabid dog, he began to foam.

“I DON’T GOT TIME FOR THIS SHIIIIIIIIT!” Tak bellowed like a beast; slamming his foot down, he spun his whole moped around in the opposite direction. He clenched on the handles and twisted, and immediately, the engine sputtered to life; the wheels lacked friction against the ground, and a puddle from the rain from yesterday sputtered underneath his treads and flung mud and water everywhere as it struggled to find something to grip. As soon as it had traction, the front wheels rose up in a wheelie before it sped off, tires screeching against the streets as Tak shifted his entire weight to sharply turn down the road, his scooter lights leaving trials like neon in his wake.

“I’M COMIN’ MIAAAAAAAA! DON’T SPILL YOUR HEART YET GIRLLLLL!!!”

He shouted so loud that windows shook, and house lights began to click alive.

 
Oliver Fessle
CS Link
SCENE:
Phantom of Euphoric Memories
TIME:
POST OUTBREAK || July 20th, 2022
LOCATION:
Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
FREE FOR ALL
Phantom of Euphoric Memories

Nothing better than a late-night stroll through Lower Central y’know. A place with many amazing sights such as the pile of garbage bags left strung about, that Oliver swears has been there since his very first visit to the District. Can’t forget the occasional poor soul that's keeled over in the many alleyways, from what though isn't Oliver’s business. Yeah, no there's definitely a handful of better, oh and certainly safer, places you could go to in the dead of night. BUT Lower Central has its good parts too, the food, the food, namely food, it's got some scrumptious food. And what else could make a late-night stroll even better than some deliciously cheap, finger-licking food; Nothing.

Oliver was in particular keeping an eye out for this one place he’d been to a couple of months back; It had some of the best street tacos he's ever had the pleasure of consuming, but the name, the name of the place escapes him. By now he may have roamed around Lower Central for ‘bout an hour like some headless chicken, but at some point, his hair started to stand on end. It was eerie; more so than it usually was. Excluding the bums on the curb, there was barely a soul in sight. Where was everyone? Sure it was midnight, but that never stopped anyone from causing a ruckus down there before. The streets were way too empty, on second thought it wasn't just the streets. Taking a better look around, Oliver noticed that even the stores he passed by were pretty close to being empty themselves. He had a feeling the Tacos might not be worth the hassle. Oliver finally decided it would be best if he turned around and started to walk the way he came from. It was getting late anyhow, and he could just com-

An ear-splitting explosion ranged off in the distance, echoing off the walls of alleyways. Oliver’s soul practically left his body as it trembled from tension. The sound of his heart beating against his chest filled the silence the explosion left, that and faint laughter. That was loud, meaning it was probably close, and close is way too close comfort.

On one hand, he could run away, tuck his tail between his legs, and scurry away from the obviously dangerous explosion and freaky laughter. On the other, he could run in the opposite direction, towards the fire as they say. There is no chance in hell that it doesn't have anything to do with the lack of people out this night, it would be a wild coincidence if it didn't. Y’know curiosity killed the cat, and tonight Oliver might just be that cat because he's awfully curious about what is going on. No no no that's not a good idea at all, but it couldn't possibly hurt to just go take a tinsey peek; in and out. Who knows people might need Oliver's help.

A bounce in his step Oliver bolted towards the nearest alleyway, wringing his fingers against one another as he took a deep breath; an attempt to get his heart to stop going a mile-a-minute. He started his magical adventure of scaling dumpsters and leaping over the back alleys' passed-out denizens; truly a Lower Central Magical experience like none other. Only for the magic to cease as the adventure came to an end. Oliver found himself stood before a graveyard; what was left of it at the very least. As he stepped toward it he could see the scattered fragments of headstones lodged into the ground around him and a smell akin to burnt plastic assaulted his nose. The laughter that filled the air drew his eyes upwards, towards a man encapsulated in the dim, red glow of Lower Central. The source of all this chaos.

Oliver’s jaw clenched as a new noise grabbed his attention. Unintelligible groans.
Hidden away by the light, what laid atop the ground that smelt of iron, were chunks of meat indiscernible from one another. Some limp and lifeless; others thrashing about with what little of them was left. The sight made his stomach churn as moans escaped his lips, “Ouh ooh thhhats not a pretty sight… I'm gonna– uohhh.”

How they survi… were still holding on was beyond Oliver, but it couldn’t be for much longer. The wounds they had weren’t something one could simply walk off. It would be cruel to leave them like that, right? To extend their suffering any longer wouldn't be right. They deserve a merciful end.

As Oliver gestured a prayer, from behind him a formed rift the size of his palm. A sharp whistle emanated from within it as the groans were silenced one by one.


Zombie shishkabob


BriiAngelic BriiAngelic thebigfella thebigfella YumenoTsukishiro YumenoTsukishiro Jexon Whells Jexon Whells
 
celestine renee cadieux
SCENE:
the DEATH of cinnabun??!?
LOCATION:
north district
TIME:
wouldn't u like to know, weather boy
PARTICIPANTS:
takaonna, celestine
the DEATH of cinnabun??!?
Celestine watched Taka quietly, allowing the much taller woman to place a hand on her head, "Of course, I will help you, Taka." she responded, placing her free hand on Taka's that rested atop her head, "I would not leave you to do something like this on your own."

Carefully removing her friend's hand from her head, she held onto it for a moment, "I believe there is an animal clinic in walking distance. Let us go now, yes?" She wasn't sure whether to release Taka's hand or not, so she held it more loosely and gave her the choice of whether she wanted to let go.

"If it is alright with you, Taka, I can continue to carry Cinnabun? Keep her close while we are on our way to the clinic?" Celeste offered as they made their way to the entrance of the warehouse, looking at Taka despite knowing she couldn't exactly meet her gaze.

AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa
 
Shishido Takakazu
CS Link
SCENE:
If Nutrition Was Really Important They'd Call It Life Value Instead of Daily Value
LOCATION:
Central District, Grubtopia
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 || 2020
PARTCIPANTS:
Tak, Melody miki miki
If Nutrition Was Really Important They'd Call It Life Value Instead of Daily Value

“Man, everything here is so expensive…”

A grudging murmur had come from the messy-haired young adult. His cart had been piled to the teeth with cheap junk, more and more stacks of sugary and fatty goodness. With a sigh of defeat, he had rested his head against the handrail of the cart, bumping his head every so often against it. He didn’t bother looking up at the elderly couple passing him or as a kid with his mom strolled by, staring up at him curiously.

It was a long moment before he finally lifted himself up, his eyes more tired. He was still getting used to the concept of balancing his budget. He had gone from taking whatever he could scrounge, hopping from feast to famine depending on the wealth of whatever dope he had snatched a wallet off that week to figure out how to spend his time. Now, he had to be much more careful.

With tired eyes, he leaned forward to pull out a generic brand can between his fingers, blinking at it as he twisted it around to examine its uninteresting exterior, “Can I ever afford all this?” A hushed whisper of despair as his posture slouched once more, cradling his face into his arms.

It was then that he saw it; a glance out of the corner of his eye caused one of his pupils to bulge outward, squishy blinking as he gazed upon something encased in glow and glitter. Slips of heavenly paper then hung out from a red leather purse pocket, dangling in the wind.

Words such as 5 DOLLARS OFF, 2 FOR THE PRICE OF 1, and other such tantalizing offers sent a tingle down his spine. Tak suddenly straightened up on impulse, eyes trailing from the paper to slips to the purse they were perched in, then the chubby, pale shoulder that the strap hung from. A woman reaching towards a nearby jar of pickles, minding her own business.

“Uhm, excuse me,” Tak spoke, without even realizing he had anything to say, earning the woman’s gaze as she looked at him quizzically, “Can I help you?” Put on the spot, Tak weakly pointed towards her purse, a neutral gaze as he did so, “What are those?”

Coupons, anyone would know that, but for Tak, who had never considered the idea of doing things the honest way, such a thing never occurred to him, the store offered deals? Such a concept didn’t make sense.

“My purse?” she looked down, a smile gracing her features, holding onto the bag as she proudly hoisted it up, “Well, I’ll have you know--”

“Not the purse,”
Tak quickly cut the woman off, disinterest clear in his tone with a more defining pointing of his finger as he leaned a bit closer. “Those.”

Once again, the woman was confused. As she twisted around the purse in her grasp, she finally noticed what was hanging out from the opening. “Coupons?” she said absentmindedly, forgetting she had even brought them.

“Is that what they’re called? What the hell are they?” Tak asked, furrowed brow and analytical gaze as he tried to get a better look at them. His lack of real-life experience left the woman dumbfounded momentarily before her gaze softened towards the younger man.

“Well, they’re slips the store gives out to customers that give them deals on items they couldn’t get normally. It’s to reward their recurring patrons,” she explained, simply holding the coupons between her hands and looking them over briefly.


“W-What!?” Tak blustered in surprise, nearly falling over as he put all his weight onto his cart, the whole thing going unbalanced as he scrambled back to his feet, “Ya tellin’ me stores are just givin’ that stuff away? Doesn’t that make ‘em less money!?” Tak questioned the woman like she was a professional, only missing a notebook to jot down her statements for the test that would be next week.

The older lady gave a slight chuckle, “You’d think, right?” she said between her laughs before clearing her throat, “But no, you see, when someone buys something with a coupon, it helps them get rid of stuff people don’t usually buy, and also leads to people buying more things than they planned. It’s pretty clever.”

Tak was left stunned, his jaw hung open; the ingenuity of modern-day supermarket capitalism was far beyond him; the concept that you could lose money to make money ignited something within him, a deeper understanding of how coupons and “investing” worked, how smaller returns for more significant rewards had some truth to it. But, despite all the deep, intricate thoughts swirling in his head, a question came to the forefront. He stepped away from his cart, walking up to the woman to look down at her right in the eyes, placing her hands on her shoulders like it was something serious.

“These coupons, how do I get them?!”





“Yo!”

From seemingly out of thin air, someone else had appeared in the scene, behind the workers dressed in attire that screamed about the transition from teenager to adulthood, from the sandals to the graphic t-shirt; he stood there with a smile on his lips and a raised hand as a wave. Oblivious to the situation entirely, he strides up to the workers. Who had the same color palettes as bees? They looked stupid; he wouldn't be caught dead wearing that; black and white was his style.

He wrapped his shoulder around one of the nearest workers, “I heard you guys,” he began before reaching out to grasp another employee, pulling them both in close to whisper in both of their ears as he smacked his lips, “Have the good stuff…”

He let them go, pulling himself away as he held out an expecting hand, “Don’t be shy! Fork it over! I already know how this works and have figured out the whole system!” He declared an assured grin on his features as he pointed to himself confidently on the chest and puffed it out.

Only in this held pose, his eyes finally wandered past, down the aisle, to spot someone else on the scene. Immediately, a peculiarity stuck out to him:

“Man, she got a BIG ASS eyeball!” Tak thought but kept his mouth shut, flashing the woman a smile as he beckoned towards her.

“You should get on this, too! I’ve heard it saves you lots of money; we’re talkin’ millions here. I can’t believe everyone isn’t using them!” Tak continued to gas up these mysterious goods, giving his focus back to the workers as he gazed at them expectantly.

“So, what are we waiting for? Go ahead and pull them out!”

 
ERIC EVENSEN
SCENE:
Ice Breakers
LOCATION:
CDPD Break Room, Central District
TIME:
Post Arc 3 || June 25th, 2022
PARTICIPANTS:
Eric, Yelena, Justus, Inigo, Sebastian, Tatsuo, Kyoden, Chikage
Ice Breakers
Eric's bestest buddy partner pal of all time, Inigo, had arrived at last, the detective wondering how long it would take for that gym rat to come out of hiding. In a turn of events most expected, the man turned blatantly dour at the sight of a certain scarred lady. Golden eyes shifted from the horned crystal-evoker, to the mysterious blonde. Eric's opinion of Yelena wasn't much unlike the rest of his colleagues, not a shared sentiment that had been discussed before, but rather an implicit, unspoken agreement from anyone who layed their eyes on her brutal method, or those closed enough to be shared the tale in sheer sincerity.

Well, it also didn't help that Chikage had already shared some information about his own reservations regarding the government official to his closer confidants, the detective himself included. Eric knew that his boss' tough exterior was nothing more than a typical case of a tsundere, and despite the detective's usual antics and overly lazy behavior, they were, in truth, the bestest of friends. (This statement may be, or rather most likely is, a great exaggeration.)

As for the pudding-haired man himself? Of course he had his reservations about Yelena, but a true judgement would be made once he's made his own thorough research, and research her he was going to.

"Lovely to see the crew gathering like this, it warms my heart so, I feel like it might burst out of my chest at any moment." If only such sweet and heartwarming words weren't unfortunately carried by the most monotone of deliveries.

The man dragged his own body out of the couch, leaden steps requiring the effort of a hundred men (This statement is most definitely an exaggeration). It was through sheer will that he reached his partner Inigo's position.

"Yo'." the man greeted, lazily waving his now pizza-less hand. "You should come over with the others, I know the wall is great and all, but we kinda have a social thing going on." He stared down, eyes focusing longingly at the break room's carpeted surface. "Also I'm more of a floor fan myself, good place to nap." He said, as if any surface known to man wasn't already a good place to nap for him.

 
SIC CURLSTONE

CS Link
SCENE:
PHANTOM OF EUPHORIC MEMORIES
TIME:
POST OUTBREAK - July 20, 2022
LOCATION:
CENTRAL DISTRICT
PARTICIPANTS:
ANYONE
PHANTOM OF EUPHORIC MEMORIES

Scribble.. scribble.. jot.. Jot..

He’ll definitely impress them.. Scribble.. If he shows off his intellect.. Jot.. by showing them his rudimentary map of Central District.. Simply a foolproof plan. He’ll show it to them, he’ll show he’s done his homework, and he’ll.. Wait, there’s no way they JUST stick to the Northern District, is there? If they don’t have the district memorized by now they’d at least have a map..

Welp, scratch that. What other ways could he impress them? Kill a guy? ..Not happening. How about just get into a scuffle? Maybe cause trouble for the other gangs? Show loyalty.. somehow? ..Sic doesn't know what he's doing. Being a part of a gang? What was he thinking? And now he's strolling about Central District like he's some homeless guy looking for a cardboard box to call home for the night. Well, he is homeless for the time being, but the cardboard box part isn't really why he's walking around at the moment.

BOOM!

Entire thought process-- out the window. An explosion had him recoil into a nearby alley for protection, and the following maniac-like cackles following it made him freeze up indefinitely. What was that? Who was that? Why did that just happen? Where did it happen? When is Sic going to book it out of there and how is he not already running up to some other part of town?

..Normally flight instincts would kick in but Sic just stood there frozen. He, gathering his wits, slowly retreated from the alleyway looking around. Nobody's around. He takes a step closer to where he heard the sound. He's absolutely frightened, but his actions fight whatever instinct he has in mind. Step by step he makes his way to the area, and with every passing second dread clouds his every thought.

"What am I getting myself into.." Was the only thing he could say at the moment, the sheer amount of fear and confusion rocked him to his core. Once he reached the site, he couldn't even speak at that point. Nothing but tiny breaths escaped, as he witnessed the horror that was the graveyard from a distance, but definitely visible.


dawg's first post..
 
Dante Aguilar
CS Link
SCENE:
Not Quite Pet Sitting
TIME:
☽ Jan 2nd, 2022 || Post-Arc 2
LOCATION:
Invaded factory; North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Camila, Dante
Not Quite Pet Sitting
The rookie winced at the blue-light shining through Camila’s phone, turned away. Even if the light had already burnt its shape into his retinas. Dante clicked his tongue, made a face. He hadn’t caught even a glance of the floor plans at all, just took her word for what it was worth, her being a trusted veteran and all.

His eyes went up to the sight of her tail swishing and coiling around their cover, the towering shadow of it finally catching his eye when she unraveled it. Dante quirked a brow at it, glasses shifting, sliding down the bridge of his nose ever so slightly. He looked down at her, her emerald eyes meeting his. Pitch-black, waning, pinging with a golden flash.

He fanned a dismissive hand at her— skipped over her request entirely— “If you’re unsure of where they could be,” — Dante threw his arm out, palm opening and closing at empty air as that flicker in his eyes started stabilizing. The grand theatrics of an over-confident rookball, might’ve been Lilim’s best guess. He wasn’t putting any clarity into what the hell he was trying to do, groping at thin air. Not at all.

He tilted his head, frowned at the strain, a ticking vein showing at his temple. His eyes became a strobing lightshow, golden lights evening out across his retinas — “We can always just ask…”

There was a sharp swish of air, a gust. Something rushing, eating up distance in a flash and bending around the corner of their make-do cover, coming to a forced halt at Dante’s hand. It was a mere blink. A resounding growl and a disembodied cackle, followed then by the muffled screams of a grown man.

It was the poor serpent they’d put up for guard, same one Camila had seen around the corner. A formless shadow was bent, coiled around his body, dozens of red eyes and fanged grins peered and smirked at them. Sleek darkness dripped around him like persistent goop. Literal tendrils of it shoved into the serp's mouth, holding it open and keeping it shush quiet at the same time.

Dante gripped a fist at the man’s forehead, muscles in his forearm snapping into rigid lines. The darkness only seemed to smile as it forced the serpent down to his knees— “We ask you questions. You nod yes and you nod no. That’s all you do.” — He brought himself down to his level, holding him by the hair, golden eyes digging straight into his soul.

“You move funny; you die.” — The shadow slithered further, like a military knot, pressing the man’s elbows to his sides. Dante held his gaze to his, didn’t even blink. Just kept explaining.

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me; you die.”

“I don’t like the way you nod; you die.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, just answer. You’ll close your eyes and wake up somewhere else next morning, it’ll be like a bad dream.”
— Long shadows slipped through the man’s hair and into Dante’s fingers, tapping at his knuckles almost mockingly. He winced at that sudden stab he felt in his mind, the serpent and Camila herself would’ve felt one too.

A woman’s voice sounded off in each of their heads, boo-ing and hoo-ing Dante.

“BOOOOORING~!” — The shadow mocked, dozens of blood-red eyes going half-lidded.

“Behave,” — He snapped back. A message to both the shadow and the man in his grasp— “Easy enough to understand.”

“There’s a safe inside this building,”
— He started with a second or two of pause, gave spare time for the serpent to nod or just whimper and grovel at his grasp — “Have you seen your friends, your boss— anyone— lock something up in there?”

Another pause. Just long enough for the man to jostle his memory, or to regret whatever choices in his life had led him to this point.

“Do you know if it’s something important?”



Roda the Red Roda the Red
 
Last edited:
Helva Linxal
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, Pei, YY
New Phoenix Golden Age
Phoenix HQ, a place where Helva had frequented many times before, a place she was all too familiar with, and she was here for a event called upon by the Phoenix Queen. Helva already suspected what this could be about, she wasn't blind to the Phoenix affairs, and she did her part in trying to keep order within the Phoenixs in these troubling times, especially with their King and Jack being gone. She didn't think much of Hector though she admitted that he was atleast competent enough, his Ace on the other hand seemed more like a work in progress.

Regardless of her feelings on the current leadership, she had dressed up casually for this occasion, her outfit was Black and she wore Red necktie over it, it was a outfit she commonly wore when dealing with Phoenix business so it wouldn't make her look out of the ordinary in the slightest. Being in a place like this with so many Phoenixes she had recognized many of them and had to think real hard to remember a few others as well, still though she went on to greet as many people as she could. Paying Reverence to her senior veteran Phoenixs and striking up small conversations with her Juniors and peers among, as they waited for their Queen to come out for whatever announcements they planned to make. She navigated the social circles of the Phoenixs well, while Syrup struck up a conversation with a few Phoenixes that she was comfortable being around. It was rare for Helva to bring Syrup along for Phoenix business, Syrup was practically Helvas sister, and unlike her other Shadow friends she has to actually bribe her in order to get into Phoenix business. But it should be worth it in the end, after all there was no one she trusted more to have her back when things came down to it more than Syrup, even if she was mostly aloof when it came helping her most of the time.

It only took a while longer before the Queen himself finally made their appearance, with his ace right in tow, Helva watched them closely as Hector began his greeting towards them. Remaining quite as Hitoshi opted to try to make a light hearted comment in order to try to lighten the atmosphere, causing Helva to let out a small sigh before recomposing herself. Helva typically liked conserving with her fellow Phoenixes in smaller settings, but in big events such as this one that wasn't exactly feasible, of course she was use to big events her family forced her into them many times before and she has done it on behalf of the Phoenixes. But this was different, a gathering of Phoenixs this large in such a formal setting wasn't exactly common practice and but something that she was sure she would be able to adept to. Still she opted to wait for the time being wanting to know what sorta announcement Hector planned to give out, even though she already had her guesses as to what that was.
 
MIRZA KARTAL
SCENE:
Whispers at Dusk
LOCATION:
Taiyōkō Shrine, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Mirza, Hifumi
WHISPERS AT DUSK
“Of course.”

Mirza put the mask in Shuwei’s hands. “If you can glean insight from it, let us know.” Mirza trotted behind Hifumi, conscious of the creak beneath every footstep. He couldn’t discern the relation between his new helpers and Hifumi, beyond the obvious. Oh, to be in the it crowd, Mirza thought about it often. Generations under the same revered rooves, but if it led to this… Mirza knew better than think so idealistically. Having no reputation is better than a bad one. Despite feeling out of place, he was surprised at Shuwei’s passivity, allowing him to continue what he had been doing so far.

“We ought to not waste time, memories can be fickle.”

Mirza stepped forward towards the women. If he had been here from the beginning, he’d have already separated them, and ideally, interrogated them already. Who knew what sort of rumours they’d already spread amongst themselves. Then again, if he was there from the beginning, this wouldn’t have happened at all, he thought. Someone should’ve been there, keeping watch, but there was no use lingering on it.

”Hello, my name is Mirza Kartal, I’m one of the Dragons investigating this… Incident.” He scanned the group, looking for anyone who might’ve seemed more “senior” than the rest, either by age or hierarchy. ”We’d like to ask just a few questions about what you’ve witnessed, if anyone would like to come with me?” Best not to assume who the chief among them was. Mirza glanced in Ruriko and Shuwei’s direction. ”Maybe someone would like to reach out to the others?”
 
DARIUS KENNEDY
SCENE:
Dissonant Ichors
LOCATION:
Alleyway, East District
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1: December 21, 2020 -- Dusk
PARTICIPANTS:
Darius, Shen, Raph
DISSONANT ICHORS

“Yes, I am,” Darius asserted, squirming as Raph came close once more. He didn’t want to know why it was funny. It wasn’t meant to be funny. Does he not know the danger of the Serpents? Who was he kidding, what danger? Darius was a joke, that’s why it was funny, and Darius wished Raph would stop toying with him and cut to the punchline already. His neck was bare, ready to be slashed. Darius shut his eyes in anticipation.

”I'm a Sable Serpent.”

Huh?

Darius heard the slicing of his steel prison, and as the metal fell away, he slid off the wall and landed knee-first in the snow. He opened his eyes, suppressing the tears that had been building. He had a choice to make now, his instincts telling him to run while he could. This guy didn’t look like a sprinter, but he was an HP, so it wouldn’t be wise to take that chance. His only saving grace would be if his potential managed to spook him off. That’s if he tried to flee, of course. Instead, he stayed put.

“I guess I am lucky, yeah.” Darius laughed nervously, finally unglueing himself from the ground, standing up straight. “So… Well… My mission here’s complete, so I’d better get back to HQ, right?” He forgot about his assignment, and all the shit that ruined it. Caio was gonna be pissed, but that could wait. He was going to go home and have a beer, and try to forget about the whole thing. He took a few steps down the alley, not breaking eye contact with Raph.
 
CHARLIE HUGHES
SCENE:
TOWER OF POWER
TIME:
Evening, Pre-Arc 1, August 2nd 2021
LOCATION:
Maelstrom Tower, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Charlie, Musai
TOWER OF POWER
The man's confident smirk steadily began to disappear, his nonstop barrage of kicks propely traveling their way at his opponent's direction, yet somehow not a single one landing on their desired spot. Sweat quickly began to build up on his brow, shining brigtly under the grand lights above them, bathing the arena as if it were a football stadium.

"Tch! I-I am just getting started he-" His boastful claim was not allowed to finish, strikes far beyond his capabilities to block or dodge coming his way, his limbs too sluggish and inexperienced to intercept the coming barrage, it was as if the Phoenix was easily able to tell where his next opening was going to be, he could already feel bruises building up around his chest.

A clean blow landing against his liver managed to knock the wind out of him. His feet sank into the matted floor as he took shaky steps backwards, slouching forward with his arms covering his stomach.

"*huff huff* ...Well...I must admit you are...no pushover." His words released among fatigued panting and pained groans. He smirked once more, holding his palms against his back as he forced himself back into a straight stance. "However, you were lucky I was not properly keeping my guard up."

"Uhm, I'm pretty sure he completely outmatched you just now."
Charlie felt the urge to interrupt the delusional man's taunting, by now he had gotten pretty comfortable sitting cross-legged just outside the ring, wishing he had brought some snacks to enjoy the spectacle with.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Barked back the martial artist, his visage turning red like a tomato for just a moment, before noticing his cool and tempered definitely-not-a-facade had peeled away for just a moment. "A-Anyway, I hope you are prepared, you have earned the right to behold my ultimate technique" His stance lowered, his straightened right leg drawing an arc around him as it shifted to his back. "The one I have trained a full year to master...Retreat if you value you life!"

With a frankly surprising level of alacrity, the man used his other leg to jump high in the air, spinning rappidly in the air like a human buzzaw going directly at Musai.

"PLATINUM CYCLONE DESTROYEEEEEEEEEEEER!"



"Hmmm..." Charlie folded his arms, his head tilting slightly to the side. "...I think this guy's toast." Anyone with a trained would be able to tell who the boy was referring to.


Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters-
 
YONG-YUT SOMSRI
SCENE:
New Phoenix Golden Age
TIME:
July 20, 2022 || Post Outbreak
LOCATION:
Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Bolt, Hector, Helva, Hitoshi, Milo, Musai, Pei, YY
New Phoenix Golden Age
It was about time, wasn’t it?

A few months had passed since she was gone. Yong-Yut knew what was coming.

Especially since the Queen and Ace had knocked on her door and asked to ‘dress them up’ for the upcoming event. This event. Sure, they avoided spoiling the surprise as best they could, but just coming to her was suspicious. They had her make suits for them. Hector and Boltius in suits!

Safe to say this was important. And what was more important to the Phoenixes than what they were all expecting?



Yong-Yut hovered in Musai’s vicinity. He was talking at her —complimenting the outfit she made him, worrying over her, and other general musings— while she was busy nervously eyeing the podium. They’d come out any minute now… “I’m glad you like the clothes, Musai,” she said once she managed to peel her gaze away. “It wasn’t a problem, you know.”

She glanced away from him again, crossing her arms. “...And sorry about my absence. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Yong-Yut hadn’t realized how little they spoke nowadays. After this, she should make that up to him…

But there was a more important matter right now. She nodded gently in response to him before familiar footsteps and friendly faces stepped in front of the suddenly silent room. She faced away, forward, towards the two most important people in the room right now. Her hand waved in greeting towards the pair as her eyes flickered to Musai beside her. “How do you think this is going to go?” she whispered.




Kameron Esters- Kameron Esters- WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten Doctor Llamabean Doctor Llamabean Peckinou Peckinou thebigfella thebigfella Elenion Aura Elenion Aura joshuadim joshuadim
 
Musai
SCENE:
Young Blood
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Young Blood

Musai flashed a grin at Charlie, affectionately ruffling his hair a bit as he leaned back in his chair, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Chughie, my man, you know how it is. This city's brimming with every shade of troublemaker, but nah, this one's new to me too. Seems like we've got ourselves a sneaky one this time around!"

He took a moment to scan the bustling street, his gaze sharp and discerning. "It's all whispers and shadows, you know? But that's what we're here for, ain't it? To shine a light in those dark corners."

Musai leaned forward, his voice lowering as he adopted a more serious tone, the playful spark in his eyes giving way to a flicker of determination. "We'll find this ghost, Chughie. And when we do, they'll wish they'd stayed in the shadows. Let’s keep our ears to the ground, yeah? Maybe catch some chatter that’s been overlooked."

With a confident nod, he clapped Charlie on the shoulder, his usual fiery charisma warming the air between them. "But hey, let's enjoy the chase, huh? After all, ain’t many can keep up with us when we get going!" He chuckled, ready to dive into whatever this new challenge might bring their way.


Roda the Red Roda the Red joshuadim joshuadim
 

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