Elenion Aura
One Thousand Club
MARKUS WEISS
SCENE:
Tigers Arc 2: Scene 5 [A Dangerous Game]
LOCATION:
South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Callahan, Ernesto, Ezra, Mbaye, Isobel, Welsha
A DANGEROUS GAME
For a good long while after Markus had left the South District behind him for good (or so he'd thought), he could still remember the smell.
The smell of the South was one of death. Decay. Stagnation. It permeated the air, choked breath from lungs, and sapped the very life from everything and everyone it touched. No matter how the Phoenixes tried to mask their stink with fragrant perfumes, their so-called "night-life", the truth remained, and the smell always lingered. It clung like a cancer to every last person who walked those streets, but to none more than the Phoenixes themselves.
They all reek of the past.
Markus hated it. He'd always hated it. He'd hated it as a child, his nights full of hopelessness, longing to be free of its cloying miasma.
He'd hated it as a teenager, days spent toiling for scraps, trying desperately to start over, to find his footing in a new district, with a new crew...
As soon as he could afford to, Markus had burned all his old clothes, as if the stench of his old life—the life of a nobody—had seeped into them and taken hold, as if somehow, by wearing them, he was washing away all the work he'd done, all the progress he'd made... Which was unacceptable. Markus would not go backwards. In those days, he had spared no expense, taking extra care to erase every aspect of who he'd been before he'd become a Tiger, in the shadow of their King.
Before long—as Markus refused to wait any longer for what he was owed—for all intents and purposes, the poor boy with the sad, angry eyes from apartment 1-B, South District was gone, consumed, broken down into elemental constructs and re-assimilated into the man he'd always wanted to become.
But no matter how hard he tried, the truth was that Markus couldn't shake the memory of the smell of that place. Of 'home.' And lately he'd begun to wonder... Whether it was more than just the memory. After all, Markus had thought he'd left the past behind him, but sometimes Markus lied. Even to himself. About the times when he'd wake in the middle of the night and find that he was still smelling that same, putrid air.
Everywhere he looked were reminders.
Street signs. Local shops. Trees... They came at him fast and furious, now. He gazed out the window as the motorcade tore down quiet side-streets en route to their destination, counting the sidewalk benches they passed and wondering if they’d added any more when—
The driver slammed on his brake. Markus had just enough time to brace himself before the car screeched to a halt.
”GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE WAY!” Yelled the Tiger in the front seat, waving crude gestures at the boy in the road until he moved. ”… Goddamn kids. Sorry, Boss.”
The Tiger King stared at the scene as they passed by, his brows knitting together in contemplation. A flash of orange. The ring of steel. Reminders everywhere. On Markus' order, the motorcade sped off. They had an appointment to make at the Phoenix King's castle. And Markus had no intention of being late.
They were coming up on it, now. The device that Actualize wielded had told him as much. The little dots that marred its screen were not so little, anymore. Soon he'd know just how fucked this situation had become. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for an answer to prevent itself. The individuals in the car all saw the same thing at the same time: a cluster of bodies soaring—no, falling—through the air, as if thrown from the tall building that housed the Phoenix's nest.
”Izzat them?” The driver asked, dumbfounded. Markus said nothing. He'd save his words until after he knew that they had what was his.
When the floating/falling mass of tangled Tigers dropped out of his line of sight, behind the tops of neighboring townhouses, Markus felt his phone buzz. The screen lit up with the message he'd been hoping to see. Isobel. His lip quirked, but Markus tamped it down. It was too soon to celebrate. They had his prize, but now the question remained: would they be able to keep it?
Yes, they would.
"That way. Turn there."
Markus spoke, pointing his driver to take the next right as he pressed the phone to his ear, placing an outbound call. It may have been years, but Markus knew these streets still. He knew where Isobel and the claw were headed, and he knew where they'd come from. Now, all that was left to do was secure their exit route, in case any uppity birds thought they'd play their hand at 'hero'.
"Alright, listen up," Markus spoke into the receiver, as his voice echoed across the shared channel in the motorcade behind him. He directed them like a conductor directed his orchestra. One by one, SUVs peeled off from the group, turning this way and that. Markus was the spider, and they were his web. They'd catch any would-be pursuers who'd yet to break out from the townhouse. Once he'd relayed his orders, Markus switched the position of his phone from one ear to the next as he dialed his next caller. When the call clicked, he didn't wait to confirm that she was there before he spoke up, growling his orders for her before snapping the call closed. She would know what to do with what he'd told her.
Meanwhile, Markus kept his eye on the prize, dropping his phone into his lap to stare at the blinking cluster of dots on Actualize's screen. They were set to cross paths sooner than later, thanks to Markus' intimate knowledge of the South District's streets. From there it'd be smooth sailing. He'd bring them in himself. Woe be to any fucking pigeon who got in his way.
Markus' voice cut across the radio in Ernesto and Welsha's car. Ernesto perked up. If the pair left now, they'd link up with the other Tigers tasked with running interference for Isobel, Markus, and their prize. Speaking of...
"Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking," came a voice over the Tigers' private channel. The Veteran Tiger sat in the passenger's side front seat of the SUV directly following his King's carriage as he cooed into the radio receiver. This was what he'd been waiting for. This was why he was here. He jingled the chain that hung from his wrist, the handful of tokens—heirlooms for him to remember the birds he'd plucked in the past—glinting in the silvery half-light of the rainy day. "You all heard the Boss. This is an exclusive event, and we're all working the door." The ostentatious Tiger purred as he directed his drive to pull around. The rest of the SUVs followed suit, and before long they'd fashioned themselves into a fairly intimidating blockade, cutting off the route that led to Markus, Isobel, the claw, and the West Distrct. The blond unholstered a revolver and loaded it one bullet at a time.
"Remember, kittens. No birdies allowed."
Lucem
@Nova Anyw
Peckinou
@Saturn_moon
BriiAngelic
simj26
AriAriAbabwa
Ambiloquous
gxxberkit
@ Whoever else should be @'ed here
The smell of the South was one of death. Decay. Stagnation. It permeated the air, choked breath from lungs, and sapped the very life from everything and everyone it touched. No matter how the Phoenixes tried to mask their stink with fragrant perfumes, their so-called "night-life", the truth remained, and the smell always lingered. It clung like a cancer to every last person who walked those streets, but to none more than the Phoenixes themselves.
They all reek of the past.
Markus hated it. He'd always hated it. He'd hated it as a child, his nights full of hopelessness, longing to be free of its cloying miasma.
He'd hated it as a teenager, days spent toiling for scraps, trying desperately to start over, to find his footing in a new district, with a new crew...
As soon as he could afford to, Markus had burned all his old clothes, as if the stench of his old life—the life of a nobody—had seeped into them and taken hold, as if somehow, by wearing them, he was washing away all the work he'd done, all the progress he'd made... Which was unacceptable. Markus would not go backwards. In those days, he had spared no expense, taking extra care to erase every aspect of who he'd been before he'd become a Tiger, in the shadow of their King.
Before long—as Markus refused to wait any longer for what he was owed—for all intents and purposes, the poor boy with the sad, angry eyes from apartment 1-B, South District was gone, consumed, broken down into elemental constructs and re-assimilated into the man he'd always wanted to become.
But no matter how hard he tried, the truth was that Markus couldn't shake the memory of the smell of that place. Of 'home.' And lately he'd begun to wonder... Whether it was more than just the memory. After all, Markus had thought he'd left the past behind him, but sometimes Markus lied. Even to himself. About the times when he'd wake in the middle of the night and find that he was still smelling that same, putrid air.
Everywhere he looked were reminders.
Street signs. Local shops. Trees... They came at him fast and furious, now. He gazed out the window as the motorcade tore down quiet side-streets en route to their destination, counting the sidewalk benches they passed and wondering if they’d added any more when—
The driver slammed on his brake. Markus had just enough time to brace himself before the car screeched to a halt.
”GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE WAY!” Yelled the Tiger in the front seat, waving crude gestures at the boy in the road until he moved. ”… Goddamn kids. Sorry, Boss.”
The Tiger King stared at the scene as they passed by, his brows knitting together in contemplation. A flash of orange. The ring of steel. Reminders everywhere. On Markus' order, the motorcade sped off. They had an appointment to make at the Phoenix King's castle. And Markus had no intention of being late.
They were coming up on it, now. The device that Actualize wielded had told him as much. The little dots that marred its screen were not so little, anymore. Soon he'd know just how fucked this situation had become. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for an answer to prevent itself. The individuals in the car all saw the same thing at the same time: a cluster of bodies soaring—no, falling—through the air, as if thrown from the tall building that housed the Phoenix's nest.
”Izzat them?” The driver asked, dumbfounded. Markus said nothing. He'd save his words until after he knew that they had what was his.
When the floating/falling mass of tangled Tigers dropped out of his line of sight, behind the tops of neighboring townhouses, Markus felt his phone buzz. The screen lit up with the message he'd been hoping to see. Isobel. His lip quirked, but Markus tamped it down. It was too soon to celebrate. They had his prize, but now the question remained: would they be able to keep it?
Yes, they would.
"That way. Turn there."
Markus spoke, pointing his driver to take the next right as he pressed the phone to his ear, placing an outbound call. It may have been years, but Markus knew these streets still. He knew where Isobel and the claw were headed, and he knew where they'd come from. Now, all that was left to do was secure their exit route, in case any uppity birds thought they'd play their hand at 'hero'.
"Alright, listen up," Markus spoke into the receiver, as his voice echoed across the shared channel in the motorcade behind him. He directed them like a conductor directed his orchestra. One by one, SUVs peeled off from the group, turning this way and that. Markus was the spider, and they were his web. They'd catch any would-be pursuers who'd yet to break out from the townhouse. Once he'd relayed his orders, Markus switched the position of his phone from one ear to the next as he dialed his next caller. When the call clicked, he didn't wait to confirm that she was there before he spoke up, growling his orders for her before snapping the call closed. She would know what to do with what he'd told her.
Meanwhile, Markus kept his eye on the prize, dropping his phone into his lap to stare at the blinking cluster of dots on Actualize's screen. They were set to cross paths sooner than later, thanks to Markus' intimate knowledge of the South District's streets. From there it'd be smooth sailing. He'd bring them in himself. Woe be to any fucking pigeon who got in his way.
Markus' voice cut across the radio in Ernesto and Welsha's car. Ernesto perked up. If the pair left now, they'd link up with the other Tigers tasked with running interference for Isobel, Markus, and their prize. Speaking of...
"Remember, kittens. No birdies allowed."
Markus knows a short-cut to Isobel and the claw; he's taking it. Meanwhile, the other Tiger NPCs are forming a barricade to waylay any Phoenixes who may be in pursuit.
Welsha & Ernesto have joined up with the Tiger Blockade.
The CorvoCar is already ahead of the blockade, but Markus knows a short-cut of his own and he's taking it.
DON'T CONTROL THE NPCs
Welsha & Ernesto have joined up with the Tiger Blockade.
The CorvoCar is already ahead of the blockade, but Markus knows a short-cut of his own and he's taking it.
DON'T CONTROL THE NPCs
Lucem
@Nova Anyw
Peckinou
@Saturn_moon
BriiAngelic
simj26
AriAriAbabwa
Ambiloquous
gxxberkit
@ Whoever else should be @'ed here
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