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Realistic or Modern ๐’ ๐˜ ๐ ๐ƒ ๐ˆ ๐‚ ๐€ ๐“ ๐„ ๐ƒ - ๐€ ๐๐จ๐ข๐ซ/๐Ž๐ซ๐ ๐š๐ง๐ข๐ณ๐ž๐ ๐‚๐ซ๐ข๐ฆ๐ž ๐‘๐ (๐ˆ๐‚)

[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/8zfCpfpy/s4.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Don't be an idiot-

Stay out of my way."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Zhang Kang-Jian[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Bear"[/div]
[div class=title]Police Detective[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
At Jian's invitation, the young man's cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink as he rubbed his neck in embarrassment, grinning self-consciously but in obvious pleasure.

"Of course, I'm always up for a drink," he said with that beautiful smile. "Avi always stocks the best vodka as well."

Jian laughed, loud and booming in the closed room.

"A Russian man who has a taste for fine vodka, eh? I never would have thought it." He grinned at Nicholai, his eyes twinkling.

"In that case, shall we say 7pm at The Goy?"

After getting Nicholai's response, he rose to leave.

"I'll see you then," he declared, smiling warmly.

Just as he was closing the door, he heard the intercom on the lieutenant's desk buzzing, followed by Umisa's voice coming through, informing him that he was expected in the leader's office- no doubt to report to her on this meeting.

As Jian took the elevator down, left the building, and headed back to the station, he smiled to himself. Even though it had been under such worrisome circumstances, he had been delighted to have an excuse to meet with Nicholai again, and he was more delighted still that his invitation had been accepted. For a while he was simply lost in thought, looking forward to that evening, but then he pulled his mind back to the matter at hand.

The Tundra didn't have any information (or at least, no information they were sharing). He wasn't surprised by this, but it was still disappointing. Still, he had to get to the bottom of this case, so he would pursue every possible lead until he did.

When he got to the station, he headed straight for Martin's desk, but it was empty. He asked around- no one had seen him. On his way to see if the receptionist knew where he was, he bumped into Noah Lansky- scrawny, nervous fellow who was more at home pushing paper than out on the field.

"Hey Lansky- sorry about that. You seen Clint, by any chance?" Lansky nodded.

"He headed down to the lockers 'bout five minutes ago," he replied. Must've just finished his beat, he thought. Jian thanked Lansky and headed down as well.

When he reached the lockers, Martin was changing out of his uniform, soaked-through from what looked like another interminable, useless walkabout. Jian wondered why the Chief always stuck him with these bullshit assignments- the man was a good cop. He walked up to him without preamble.

"Hey Clint, can I get a word?"

Jian hooked a thumb behind him in a gesture that clearly expressed Let's talk elsewhere, not wanting to have this conversation in the locker room.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/65yWc4v9/s2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Sty (locker room)

With: Martin[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ScBBRG0.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I have everything and nothing."

- Nicholai
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Nicholai Milkovich[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Checks"[/div]
[div class=title]Iron Tundra Lieutenant[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai couldn't stop smiling even after Zhang left, having to take a moment to regain his composure. Try as he might, he just couldn't wipe the slight smile off his face even after a minute to get back into his work headspace.

After Zhang left Nicholai rose from behind his desk and buttoned his suit jacket once more. He took a quick glance at himself to be sure he looked presentable before heading over to meet with Alyenka.

With his mind now firmly focused back on the situation at hand, he went back to worrying as he made his way to his boss' office. It felt wrong to not have new information to give her, but all of his leads were dead-ends and he assumed that Zhang would tell him if anything new came up. He and Alyenka would have to put their heads together for this one, they had to figure out who was behind all this quickly, before a war started on the streets of the city.

There had to be something that they were all missing. But what could it be? We have gone over every piece of evidence. Perhaps Alyenka would have new information.

He knocked politely on the door of her office before he let himself in, knowing she was expecting him. He didn't bother sitting down once he was inside.

"Please tell me you have something. All of my leads thus far have come up cold."

A part of him wondered if the mastermind behind all of this was the Crimson Blossom themselves. It seemed something they would do, having no loyalty to anyone but themselves. Inwardly he scoffed at himself, there was no reason for him to think that way, at least until there was evidence to back the assumption.


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ajsGZVi.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Alyenka[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/nVWTsNK3/r2-1.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"You either work with me,

Or you get out of my way."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Alyenka Karmazin[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Iron Vice"[/div]
[div class=title]Leader of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
The knock on the door was proper, prim and polite- just like him. I turned from the window as he walked into the room, watching him carefully as I sat down at my desk.

"Please tell me you have something. All of my leads thus far have come up cold." My eyes narrowed.

"Watch your tone, Nicholai," I said, my voice dangerously low. "and don't forget who you're talking to. I called you in here to get a report on your meeting with that detective. So, tell me what happened in that meeting. And then you can tell me just which leads you've been pursuing, and what it is you plan to do about this next."

I glared at him, eyes slit-like and arms crossed. I wasn't in the habit of talking to him this way, or using his full name. Normally, we had an excellent working relationship. He was dedicated and hard-working and loyal, polished and professional. He was competent- I could trust him and rely on him to get things done, and get them done right, and on time.

But my nerves were on edge about all of this, and him walking in like he owned the place and was expecting me to report to him was unacceptable. He might be at the top level in this organization, and we might get along well and have become familiar with each other over our years of working together, but that didn't mean that he could forget I was in charge.

Besides, it was possible that I'd become complacent lately, and the fact that this had been allowed to happen was partly a result of that. When business is going well and you're surrounded by competent people who do their jobs satisfactorily, you start to relax, and you let the lines blur- let them forget that there are consequences for messing up or disappointing you. I couldn't afford to let a single person in this organization forget that.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/V66BvFJy/r2-2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Nicholai[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Oldest saying known to Underworld. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I was not there, and if there I was sleeping."
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Vladislav Pryovatov[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Triglav"[/div]
[div class=title]Runner/Bodyguard of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]
[div class=post]
"I humbly ask you reconsider continued sale of inferior product, da? It is beneficial to continued economic prosperity of neighborhood and quality of life." The words, though guttural and choppy, were in a polite and measured tone. The voiced "h's" were hopelessly inundated with phlegm, the "r's" in that uncomfortable inbetween of trilled and not-trilled that came from someone to whom English did not seem to be a first language, or even an easily understood second language. Not that the target of Vlad's negotiations could stop and think about all the intricacies of that thick Slavic voice, as his arm was turning a shade of purple, the shoulder wrenched at an unnatural angle behind him. The grip that held the forearm and turned the unfortunate sap's digits an unhealthy shade of blue looked like a pudgy ham with five bent sausages on the ends, with skin weathered into a worn leather that seemed to crease more as the grip tightened.

"Please, l-let go of me!" The man's look of panic gave way to a truly unfortunate circumstance of this man's brain wiring, as he suddenly sneered in defiance and shrieked like a whimpering dog. "Let go of me, kรกtharma, you fucking ape!"

"Ah, I would suggest not usink such profane words in high class establishment. Children may be present." The giant ham fist was joined by another hand on the upper arm, holding the arm itself in place while now the first hand was slowly wrenching the forearm back and flexing the elbow in directions it's not supposed to bend in. "You are expected to deliver quality goods at affordable prices as part of contractual negotiation with owner of Dรถner - Dรผrรผm, da? Is part of understandink that ingredients are fresh and meat at quality acceptable by Amerikan healths regulations. Proprietor of establishment tells me you do not deliver goods of quality, when other restaurants in your delivery route haf good meats and dressings. Why is that, brother?"

"Eseis ny-, gghaaahk! The other businesses, they- they tip for the better stuff, it offsets the cost of throwing out the old junk-ghhhhh-!" The shoulder joint was near to breaking and the fingers had gone numb.

The grip on the man's arm was loosened so the one with the iron grip could lean in and look the delivery boy in the eye. His face seemed mostly tightly wound jaw muscle in clenched teeth, a broad flat nose, and slick back hair the color of dark straw. His eyes, hidden behind large shades, were vaguely seen glaring at the man with a dark expression. "Bull shit. This is not part of contractual agreement. This is doing of rat who thinks himself king by hoarding in his pile of trash, but rat forgets there are wolves. You do not fuck with this establishment. You will not swindle Tundra Zhelezhnaya again, suka. You will deliver supplies and goods at agreed upon quality and you will not treat us like unaffiliated restaurant again, or else burstink of veins in arm is only first part of retribution I am to deliver. Am I beink clear?" The man with the slowly flexing elbow joints was trying hard to will his other hand to move, maybe make an even more rash decision to try to punch the stalwart Slav holding him in the nose or maybe just to see that he could still use it. Funny thing about pain, though, it works wonders as a preventative tool. Eventually he gave in through wincing pain and nodded. "So here is what you do. You go out there. You give Mr. Karmazin here cases of meat and produces two weeks or more before expiration, and take that rotten garbage out of his cooler. You will never try to place restaurants on this side of river on inopportune end of deal again, or this goes higher up chain of command. The madame does not appreciate being on inopportune end of business dealink, and she is likely to being less merciful than I. Understand?" He was hoping to not have to make a mess of the boy. First off, blood in any kitchen environment is a clear health code violation- something this whole arm twisting exercise was meant to remedy. Second off, he was wearing his good suit, and he refused to even give it the chance of getting dirtied.

The man had scurried his way out to the delivery truck. 'Sirtlan', a stocky and short man of dark hair and darker skin, followed the mousey delivery driver's egress with wary eyes, which suddenly sparkled as the lanky kid left his line of sight and his frown changed to a large, moustached smile. "Ach, you've done it! Did you look at the way the boy's legs were wobbling after that? You probably could not find bones to break in that boy, kid made of jell-o!" The joke was a bit too long-winded and Vlad would have been the last one to find it funny even if it was timed right, yet the Soviet giant chuckled politely anyways. "Ah, I hope you do not let my cousin know I had been taken advantage of by a boy who looks too young to drink. It would not give her much faith in my operations here."

"You drive hard bargain, priyatel, but I will try to oblige you... if I can, you understand." Most other times, Vlad would have not accepted that. He'd have found it proper to at least send word of what happened to Nicholai, replete with names of the attempted solo extortionist and the company involved; if it was a dire situation he may have seen reason to take it all the way up to the Vice herself, but there was a chain of command for a reason and seeing the boss without decorum for trivial matters was the last thing he'd be doing. However, he was aware that the boss and her lieutenant were currently embroiled in a diplomatic snafu, and a small-time teenager gypping people on their lettuce might be so beneath their focus right now that he might be seen as impertinent for bringing it up. At the same time, anyone who crosses the Iron Tundra needs to be known about by the bosses, no matter how amateur the crosser may be. Maybe write it down as a note and ask Maria to send it up top? Talk to Al about it, see if he thinks the delivery driver is worth checking into a second time? Go straight to Nicholai or Alyenka if it sounds like they're not busy or in bad spirits? There were too many options. "I feel as if I have forgotten something."

Ihsan's sparkling dark eyes narrowed in concentration. "Hmmm, now what could that have been..." but the sparkle not leaving those eyes betrayed the good humor before the man laughed heartily again. "I tease, I tease! I left your kebab to simmer so it wouldn't get cold. Take it on house, though, dear friend. I could only do so much with the tools I had been given."

"I'm sure it will be delicious anyways."

As it turns out, the kebab was, and he enjoyed it slowly and heartily on the way home. The lamb, he could tell, was old, yet it was seasoned so well that it was mouth-watering. He finished his meal and tossed the stick into a rubbish bin before crossing to enter Iron Tundra HQ, wiping his face with a napkin. Maria was seated at reception, elegant as ever. Vlad lumbered his way over, trying to not stomp in like some kind of gorilla and only partially succeeding in that. "Ah, baryshnya, I hope the day finds you well. Could you take a note from me for the leaders to read at convenience? There was business there that involved, er, minimal amounts of duress."


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location:Iron Tundra HQ (earlier at Dรถner - Dรผrรผm)

With: Jaellagirl Jaellagirl (Maria Snyega)
[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
Last edited:
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ScBBRG0.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I have everything and nothing."

- Nicholai
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Nicholai Milkovich[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Checks"[/div]
[div class=title]Iron Tundra Lieutenant[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai tensed as Alyenka spoke, quickly looking away ashamedly. His father would have rolled over in his grave if he could hear the way his eldest son had just spoken to his superior. The lieutenant would have argued, if it had been anyone other than his boss. This wasn't only his problem, and he wasn't the only one at fault for allowing this to happen in the first place. The rest of his light smile from before was gone now, as it should have been before.

Just like that he was snapped back fully into business mode, the prim and proper robot he normally was. He raised his hands in surrender before clasping them tightly behind his back and straightening up, eyes forward but not quite looking at Alyenka.

"My apologies. I have gotten too comfortable."

He could hear his father's voice in the back of his mind, quietly degrading him for his slip in etiquette.

You are not equals, nor friends, idiot boy. Show some respect.

Nicholai squared his shoulders and searched his mind for a moment, he truly didn't have anything helpful to report to Alyenka. Zhang hadn't given him anything to go off of either during their meeting. It made him uneasy to disappoint but the truth seemed to be evading him.

His tone was quiet when he finally spoke again, "I told the detective that we had nothing to give him, that he knew everything we did and he was satisfied with my answer. I have looked into every possible detail of the case, examined every piece of evidence, but I can't find anything leading back to the true culprit. Whomever orchestrated this framed us perfectly.

Nicholai lowered his gaze as shame colored his face. "I am at a loss for what to do next. I apologize for not have a strategy."


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ajsGZVi.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Alyenka[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/nVWTsNK3/r2-1.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"You either work with me,

Or you get out of my way."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Alyenka Karmazin[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Iron Vice"[/div]
[div class=title]Leader of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai tensed up and looked away, flinching as if I had physically slapped him.

Good, I thought. He needed the wakeup call.

He raised his hands apologetically before clasping them behind his back in a rigid- almost military- manner. I welcomed the show of respect, though it was overdone.

"My apologies. I have gotten too comfortable."

He squared his shoulders under my gaze, not quite meeting my eyes, like a soldier under inspection. I studied him for a long moment, hands folded in front of my face. His change in attitude was quite extreme and, if I was perfectly honest, bothered me somewhat- this was a business, not a military training camp. But I supposed this was a natural reaction to have in this situation- especially for someone so young. I knew to value confidence and competence over age, but it remained a fact that youth had its disadvantages. I nodded, leaning back in my chair.

"I told the detective that we had nothing to give him, that he knew everything we did and he was satisfied with my answer. I have looked into every possible detail of the case, examined every piece of evidence, but I can't find anything leading back to the true culprit. Whomever orchestrated this framed us perfectly."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for patience as he lowered his gaze, cheeks reddening.

"I am at a loss for what to do next. I apologize for not having a strategy."

I sighed wearily. At times like these, I wondered if I should have chosen a different lieutenant.

"So, let me get this straight," I began, my tone quiet and menacing. "You told that detective we know nothing at all about something that could plunge the city into a full-on turf war? And you didn't bother even trying to find out what he knows about it? Then," I continued, "you tell me that you have no ideas, apparently because whoever's behind this has done a perfect job? Do you really think what I want to hear right now is admiration of them?"

I glared at him, eyebrows arched, expecting him to find a way to redeem himself. He had put me in an awkward position, given that, as second-in-command, I could not openly chastise him for incompetence without making myself look weak in the process.

You need to fix this, Nicholai, I thought. I can't afford an incompetent subordinate- especially not with all of this going on. I was not going to let whoever was behind this have their way.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/V66BvFJy/r2-2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Nicholai[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
I felt insulted by Al. I knew that was not what he actually meant. I know! I can feel it. It's never what they really mean. I needed to fume off a bit but I had a job that needs doing. So I fixed the hair and straightened my back. As long as I look like I belong here nobody will come poking again, right? I crabbed a little snack from the lowest drawer. The only one I usually don't want to look stuff in cause it's quite an hassle but being pissed gets me already half way there so screw it. I munch a bit before I can see another person entering and the detective leaving. Oh it's Vlad who came. I sigh and put down the what I was eating marked down that Mr. Zhang left and just tried to look normal.
"Hello Vlad. Oh please don't call me that I am the farthest thing from a lady, Vova."
I should have never asked what it meant when he said it to me before. Now I can't stop thinking that people actually think I am a lady in any way possible.
"I think I can do that. Just write it down for me, ok? I'll finish sorting and go."
I started to sort again but the anger from earlier was still there. I raised my eyes from the desk.
"Vova you won't tell me to leave, would you?"
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5DVkywsOReeQcj7HMC01-l4wPG7CvyQhVOZyvpJFHxEvjpSRV&s);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Don't go digging inside a rose bush! It has thorns"
- Maria
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]ะœะฐั€ะธั ะกะฝะตะณะฐ [/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Tundra Rose"[/div]
[div class=title]Secretary of Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
I felt insulted by Al. I knew that was not what he actually meant. I know! I can feel it. It's never what they really mean. I needed to fume off a bit but I had a job that needs doing. So I fixed the hair and straightened my back. As long as I look like I belong here nobody will come poking again, right? I crabbed a little snack from the lowest drawer. The only one I usually don't want to look stuff in cause it's quite an hassle but being pissed gets me already half way there so screw it. I munch a bit before I can see another person entering and the detective leaving. Oh it's Vlad who came. I sigh and put down the what I was eating marked down that Mr. Zhang left and just tried to look normal.
"Hello Vlad. Oh please don't call me that I am the farthest thing from a lady, Vova."
I should have never asked what it meant when he said it to me before. Now I can't stop thinking that people actually think I am a lady in any way possible.
"I think I can do that. Just write it down for me, ok? I'll finish sorting and go."
I started to sort again but the anger from earlier was still there. I raised my eyes from the desk.
"Vova you won't tell me to leave, would you?"


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5DVkywsOReeQcj7HMC01-l4wPG7CvyQhVOZyvpJFHxEvjpSRV&s);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Iron Tundra Main Office

With: Vlad ZacksQuest ZacksQuest [/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
Last edited:
Screenshot_20200302-210846_1.jpg
Johnny 'Penny' Connors | Money Launderer | Antonellis

Southside of the City, 12:55 PM

"This city, man. Just gets darker and darker." Johnny thought to himself as he drove down the lonely streets south of the city. The road was all to himself, the rain came down hard and scared off any pedestrians. The windows of his car were now blurry from the rain but his wiper was doing its best to keep his vision clear. As he made his way down the street, he spots a payphone on the corner and parks beside it.

"All right, let's try to make this quick."


He thought to himself once more before he reached into the chest pocket of his leather jacket to take out a hip flask. Twists it open and takes a nice long swig from his reservoir of vodka. He's not usually a fan of day drinking but right now the weather and the job at hand is putting him on the edge. He puts the flask back into his pocket and takes out a piece of paper from his pants pocket.

"Kasumi Ishikawa." Was written in black ink across the paper.

"All right, kid. Time to see if you're gonna play ball with us."

He says out loud as he looks at his wrist watch: 12:59 PM. The family had a potential thorn in its side. Someone tried to take away highly valuable material from them. Whoever it was, they're not keen on stopping. The family gave him a task, to move the rocks quickly but before that, Johnny wanted to eliminate future threats to the plan.

"Time to go."
He takes out an umbrella from the passenger seat, kills the engine, and steps out the car. Rain poured relentlessly on the young fellow, within a few seconds his head and shoulders were starting to soak. He didn't have time to think about appearances though, he made his way quickly to the payphone under the shade of his umbrella.

He placed in a few quarters, good for a minute or two, but that was all he needed. The less time it took, the better. He punched in the digits and waited under the downpour. He placed the handset on his ears and waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring. "Hello, Police Department, how can I help you?"

"Hello, I want to give an anonymous tip. It's urgent."
Replied with a slightly raspy voice to cover up his real impressions.

"Okay, sir. What is your information?" The receiver replied.

"I'll only talk to Officer Ishikawa. Officer Kasumi Ishikawa. ( SCSaya06 SCSaya06 )"
Johnny said while looking at the streets and windows around him. He doesn't know if he has a tail but he wants to make sure that no wise guy stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

"All right sir. Give me a moment...

Patching you through right now."


The line went static for a few seconds, then came a few beeps, then a ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Officer Ishikawa, how may I help you?"
A female voice answered.

"Officer Ishikawa, I have a tip for you. Back off. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop sticking your nose where it don't belong."
Johnny could've asked a couple of Antonelli thugs, or even the Lieutenant to intimidate this officer, but Johnny knew things could get ugly. He wanted to give her a warning, a chance to reconsider.

"What do you mean back off? Who are you?" the officer repiled, confused but intent on finding answers.

"You know what I mean. You want answers, for your family. But trust me, it'll only hurt you and them. And who I am doesn't matter. I'm part of a bigger group of people who are very powerful and will do what it takes to keep their business untouched. I'm doing this to warn you, back off now while you still have a chance." Johnny changed his voice, now more serious and assertive. He wanted to get his point across.

A few moments of silence on the line insued broken by the solemn sound of Kasumi's words

"... You can't threaten me. You can't scare me."

"Don't be a hero. You have so much to live for, don't waste it on this. It's not worth it. Take my advice kid, I've been here long enough to know that at the end of every paper trail is the wrong end of a loaded gun. Goodbye."

"Wait, how---"


Johnny dropped call before Kasumi could speak. He looked again across the streets, at every apartment and store window. Hoping that no undercover policeman was lurking nearby.

He made his way back to the car, drenched in the rain. He started the engine and said to himself:

"Time to move those rocks fast."
 
Last edited:
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/dsuaJj4.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"In a metaphorical deal with the devil, I much rather prefer being the devil."



- Lorenzo "The Dagger" Antonelli
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Lorenzo Antonelli[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Dagger"[/div]
[div class=title]Leader of the Antonellis[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
"Don't worry boss, I'm not about to let you go up against those scary Irishmen alone-- I got your back!"

Ah, there it was. Aoife's almost childlike dedication to her mafia image was almost something admirable. An amused smile made its way onto his face at the garishly daring pose as he reached up and adjusted his glasses.

"Well, if all Irishmen are as scary as you are, then I've got good reason to bring you along."

Lorenzo's little idea of what a joke was. Aoife may not have been that intimidating in looks, no thanks to her stature, but the Cyan Bullet was no name to laugh at in the world of wetwork. She was good at what she does, and that was enough for Lorenzo, appearance and personality be damned. That she was surprisingly very loyal and devoted to the Family was a very nice bonus and one that Lorenzo liked playing on.

"Under the assumption that the Bull and his Sledgehammer will be meeting with us face to face, I cannot in good faith position an assassin to keep an eye on them should things go south." He mused.

"And they are your family, after all. With that being said, you're coming with me to the meeting to see them face to face, then. Hope you're ready for an impromptu family reunion."

Besides, he didn't exactly want Aoife having to shoot one of her own in a situation that did not need her to. He may have had severe distaste for his siblings, but Aoife didn't share that same problem, and that was the least he could grant her for her hard work.

The small conversation was interrupted by the figure that finally walked through the door. It had been a little jarring, at first, seeing what seemed to be himself walking around and doing things he did not, but over time Lorenzo had gotten used to it.

"I'm here. This is about the rumours, yes?"

"Fily."
He greeted, inclining his head briefly and motioning to the food and wine resting near the chaises. "Right on time. I trust the meeting at the Vault hadn't been too jarring for you."

He almost felt bad sending Bonfilio out to handle the meetings at the Vault with Gabrielle. Her straightforward and calculative personality was exactly the reason Lorenzo had stationed her at one of the Antonellis' biggest storefronts, but he could see how that could be jarring for the other members of the organization. "If I hadn't been quick and had money in my hands, the Tundra would've loved to snap her up, I reckon."

Additionally, it helped to test Bonfilio on whether he could hold his own as "Lorenzo" under such calculative meetings. Nevertheless, he'd called them for a specific thing, and he'd have to address it. He cleared his throat and got back on track.

"Did you, by any chance, hear anything from the people working at the Vault about the rumors?" He asked, turning to his body double.

"There had been interesting talk about supposedly seeing me at the crime scene after the police had started investigating, but it could have been someone else for all we knew. I'd also like to confirm whether you had witnessed anything or not."



[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/LkBVVuc.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Antonelli Palazzo



With: Aoife, Bonfilio[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]



[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]

{coded by Ayama}


[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
Last edited:
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ScBBRG0.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I have everything and nothing."

- Nicholai
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Nicholai Milkovich[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Checks"[/div]
[div class=title]Iron Tundra Lieutenant[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai's breath hitched ever so slightly as his chest tightened. He couldn't seem to gather his thoughts and materialize a plan. He needed a plan. His father trained him better than this, he knew better than freezing up like this.

Think, you foolish boy. Think! Now!

He lifted his head, returning to his previous military-like stance and soldiered on. Clearing his throat he spoke again, "I am truly sorry. I was trained better than this, and I will fix it."

Not allowing himself to truly see the glare Alyenka had leveled at him, no doubt disappointed in him, he quickly set about going over his options in his head. Alyenka would not stand for weakness within her ranks, and would not stand for her image being tarnished because Nicholai was too foolish to come up with a strategy. The situation was dire, and he needed to do something to stop a war from breaking out.

He was in no position to defend himself either, they were still in this mess because he didn't know what to do. Nicholai was grasping at straws, he needed help on this one. Of course he couldn't say that though, it would only dig him in deeper and make Alyenka look weak in the process. He needed to figure this out on his own, and quickly.

I am not fit to be Alyenka's lieutenant. I can't even figure out who's framing us.

Clenching his fist tightly to ground himself in the present, Nicholai gathered his thoughts. All of his current leads were cold, leading nowhere. There was no new information coming to light, and his only chance to get new information was the detective. Surely Zhang wouldn't mind comparing notes when they met up later?

Speak, idiot boy. You do yourself no favors while silent.

He began slowly, his voice quiet but clear and understandable. "If I may... I planned to meet again with the detective later this evening, which will give me ample opportunity to compare notes with him. I should have asked while he was here but it slipped my mind, I apologise. He knows that we are also investigating, and that we have nothing to do with the situation. I will fix this, I swear."



[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ajsGZVi.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Alyenka[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/nVWTsNK3/r2-1.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"You either work with me,

Or you get out of my way."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Alyenka Karmazin[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Iron Vice"[/div]
[div class=title]Leader of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai resumed his rigid, military pose, and I wanted to roll my eyes. Russian aristocrats, I tell you.

He cleared his throat and said "I am truly sorry. I was trained better than this, and I will fix it."

I raised an eyebrow. What- no 'sir yes sir'? I thought sardonically. Then It's going to take more than empty promises to make me believe that, Nic. He still wouldn't meet my eyes, looking straight ahead of him and taking his sweet time before speaking again.

"If I may... I planned to meet again with the detective later this evening, which will give me ample opportunity to compare notes with him. I should have asked while he was here but it slipped my mind, I apologise. He knows that we are also investigating, and that we have nothing to do with the situation. I will fix this, I swear."

I blinked. Now this was a surprise. Since it was painfully obvious that he'd only just come up with this idea, it meant that he hadn't made plans with the detective in order to get information from him, which meant... I was silent while I considered this, going over the implications and possibilities. I'd long suspected that Nic wasn't exactly all man when it came to such matters, and this seemed to confirm it. The detective he'd met with, from what I'd heard, had his ear to the ground most places in the city and got along well with the gangs, which meant he no doubt had access to information that I didn't. And if Nicholai had some sort of influence over him...

I smiled- not a warm expression, exactly. More like the expression a cat makes when it's just cornered a mouse and is about to get at its entrails.

"Well, even though this opportunity only arose because you've apparently decided to hang out with cops during your free time, since it is redeeming you for your earlier slip-up I'll let it slide. Just make sure you get every single piece of information he has out of him- if you go getting all weak-kneed and forgetful again the next time he bats his eyes at you, we're going to have to have a conversation that you will not enjoy. Am I clear?"

After he acquiesced, I continued. "I don't doubt your loyalty, or your dedication to the group, Nic," I said, my tone softening somewhat, "but right now is the last time we can afford to look incompetent or weak. Don't give me a reason to regret placing my faith in you."

I paused for a moment, then resumed, business-like once more.

"Now, it's time to shake the tree." I jerked my head to the left, indicating he should take his usual place at my side, as I buzzed the front desk.

"Maria, get Al and Vlad up here- now."

Since discreet investigations had, so far, yielded nothing, it was time to get a bit more heavy-handed.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/V66BvFJy/r2-2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Nicholai[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/rkSFFiO.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I'm not always sarcastic. Sometimes I'm sleeping."

- Astrid
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Astrid Haralson[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Sherlock"[/div]
[div class=title]Forensic pathologist[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Ten minutes left. Only ten short minutes left. Yeah, no. Those were going to be the longest ten minutes of her life and Astrid damn well knew that. Her mind was already away, getting that glass of bourbon and so much desired cigarette. Of course, she could smoke at work, but what was the point if she was leaving in ten minutes? For now, she was resting in her chair in her small office, her white coat hung on the chair and her bare feet were up on her desk. Astrid developed this demented habit of wearing pants suit and heels for work. And she got so used to it that it was almost unthinkable not to wear it. But the heels were taking their toll on those slender feet.

The weather was a bitch today. If there was something Dee hated, it was rain. And cold. And now, it has been pissing outside for hours. A tiny hope was in her heart that by the time she left, the rain would stop. Well, no such luck. Ten minutesโ€ฆwell, eight nowโ€ฆuntil the end and the rain was still there. Dee leaned into her chair more comfortably and closed her eyes for a second. She finished her paperwork and reports early so now she had to wait for her work time to be over.

Five minutes. Time was never slower andโ€ฆthe phone rang. With an appropriate amount of swear words coming out, she picked upโ€ฆand there went her five minutes.

As expected, the day was justโ€ฆugh. So much for her five minutes which suddenly vanished. She was needed down in the lab, Another corpse. And no, it couldnโ€™t wait. Quite frankly, Astrid could give two shits about the body being found behind the gym belonging to Declan Oโ€™Halloran. The thing that pissed her off was that she was so close to going home and yet. Fucking royalty. God knew how long she was going to stay and the end of her shift indefinite now. She slipped back in her four-inch heels and white coat and walked downstairs, where the pale corpse was already waiting for her, accompanied by a couple of police officers. The frown in between her eyebrows and a grumpy voice were immediate indication of the blondeโ€™s mood.

"Afternoon, fellas. Whereโ€™s the patient? Oh, wowโ€ฆbeaten to death. Thereโ€™s your cause of death. So, what else do you need from me? Couldnโ€™t you assume yourselves?"



[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/vZYToYP.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Forensic department, lab

With: Lemercer Lemercer [/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Oldest saying known to Underworld. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I was not there, and if there I was sleeping."
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Vladislav Pryovatov[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Triglav"[/div]
[div class=title]Runner/Bodyguard of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]
[div class=post]

"Ah, forgive me please. I seem to have forgotten from last time. I am very greatly begging to differ but-" he gave a comical attempt at a noncommittal shrug "It is not my business. Again apologies."

He took a small slip of paper and one of the pens from the reception desk and began writing. His grammatical errors were occasionally there, but the script was neat and tidy with a curving script you wouldn't expect from someone growing up with blocky cyrillic letters. It stated the basic whats and wherefores with as much detail as he could stencil in- the first name of the delivery driver, basic details, a basic understanding of the fool's independent operations, the delivery company the fool boy was a part of, the circumstances that brought Vlad to testing the durability of the man's arm and a bit of a clarification that no damage done to the man's elbow joint was extensive enough to be liable for legal action, and if for whatever reason it was he was willing to take the necessary hits to his salary and use as an asset in order to rectify the damages and repair Iron Tundra's street reputation, if it came to that.

He handed it back to her when she asked him a question that caught him off guard. "Ah, Maลกa, child, forgive me, I am- er- confused somewhat. What do you mean by 'ask you to leave'? I see no reason for the doing of that..." a small pause before a potential shot in the dark. "unless you mean it as question of safety or protection, I have considerations on that but that is for bosses to decide and, if not them, then it is a matter of what you wish to do for yourself and child and I can only assist to best of ability." He scribbled a last little side-note about the current quality of the food there still being favorable, if outdated, before handing the note to her. "Here you go. Thank you, I thought it not wise to bring them news directly when the Madam Karmazin and Nicholai-boyar have seemed so distressed lately."


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location:Iron Tundra HQ (earlier at Dรถner - Dรผrรผm)
With: Jaellagirl Jaellagirl (Maria Snyega)
[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
His answer was not really the one I wanted to hear but I guess there is no place for a woman with child. Yet to born or already in the world it doesn't matter.
"Oh I see. I will take the paper now....."
The phone rang. I picked it up and answered.
"Yes, Maria here"
It was boss calling.
"Yes, ma'm! Right away m m ma'm"
She ordered the guys up things were getting heated up. Her voice had been so full of.....I can't even tell in words to describe it. If it was going to be war they would find out soon, wouldn't they? Should I tell the boss or is she going to out her? No matter maybe they can still fix it.
"Vova...... you need to go up to the boss as fast as possible and also take Al with you too. I hope it's nothing too bad"
I gave him a small smile and grabbed the food that I but away earlier. The munching helps me to look a bit calmer.
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5DVkywsOReeQcj7HMC01-l4wPG7CvyQhVOZyvpJFHxEvjpSRV&s);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Don't go digging inside a rose bush! It has thorns"
- Maria
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]ะœะฐั€ะธั ะกะฝะตะณะฐ [/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Tundra Rose"[/div]
[div class=title]Secretary of Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
His answer was not really the one I wanted to hear but I guess there is no place for a woman with child. Yet to born or already in the world it doesn't matter.
"Oh I see. I will take the paper now....."
The phone rang. I picked it up and answered.
"Yes, Maria here"
It was boss calling.
"Yes, ma'm! Right away m m ma'm"
She ordered the guys up things were getting heated up. Her voice had been so full of.....I can't even tell in words to describe it. If it was going to be war they would find out soon, wouldn't they? Should I tell the boss or is she going to out her? No matter maybe they can still fix it.
"Vova...... you need to go up to the boss as fast as possible and also take Al with you too. I hope it's nothing too bad"
I gave him a small smile and grabbed the food that I but away earlier. The munching helps me to look a bit calmer.


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR5DVkywsOReeQcj7HMC01-l4wPG7CvyQhVOZyvpJFHxEvjpSRV&s);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Iron Tundra Main Office

With: Vlad ZacksQuest ZacksQuest [/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/xJj8NH3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"The only thing between me and my hands around your throat is my patience, and the sad thing is I don't got any."



- Crazy Al
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Albrecht Schneider[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Crazy Al"[/div]
[div class=title]Enforcer of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]

Al had just about finished his cigarette and was idly typing away on his phone when he heard an all too familiar sound of heavy footfalls.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Thump.

And then, the six-foot-six mammoth of a Russian mobster came through the doors of the smoking area. Vladislav's face, though set in its usual impassive expression and hardened by the man's features, was one that Al was at least happy to see. Rather mingle with the bottom-liners than the suits; least it didn't dirty what Al's soul was brimful of.

"Al." Vlad called, always generally straight to the point. And when Vlad was quick with him like that, it usually meant something was brewing.

"Glad to see you're back. How'd the job go?" Al acknowledged the other man with a quick nod of the head and an expectant look. Hearing about Vlad's jobs was one of the few ways Al could get any action nowadays. Perks of being a bottom-liner included having a couple more jobs than the ones higher up the chain, and Al was stuck at the weird middle ground where he was usually utilized for second visits and for people who didn't learn their lesson the first time the Tundra had sent a message.

Vlad considered his expression for a moment but otherwise got to speaking. "I would be telling you, but there is a matter of grave importance to be addressing."

"Oh?"

"The Madam Karmazin wants us up in her office."


"Finally." Al stretched, feeling the multiple pops in his back as the built up soreness there alleviated. He carelessly flicked the butt of his stubbed out cigarette into the bin and headed for the doorway, giving a quick jerk of his head to Vlad, who had already moved to follow. "Think it might be a job?"

"I suspect so."


"Now ain't that fine and dandy..." Al allowed himself the idle thought as he passed through the doors.

***************

"So, about that job. You had that one about the boss's cousin's restaurant, aye? How'd it go?"

Once they were situated in the elevator, Al got to asking about the job Vlad was on. Granted, the runners for the Tundra generally reported to either him or the bosses to see whether the place was worth another visit or a warning, and Al was more than happy to hear about the runners' worries in person.

"Well enough. The rat was bringing in trash into Mr. Karmazin's establishment, asking for more money to get good produce. I reminded him of his contractual obligations and of just how far his elbow can bend."

Al couldn't help his chuckle. Ah, the perks of having muscles bigger than a man's head. "Did you break his arm?"

"Nyet. It would land us in legal trouble and bring more undue stress to the Madam and Nicholai-boyar."

"Damn. Would've loved to see that."
Not that Al hadn't before. Vlad was easily one of the best runners to drag with him on his duties as an Enforcer precisely because of those little antics.

"Perhaps it is possible if we look into driver further." Beside him, Vlad carefully adjusted his sunglasses and handed Al a note. Al raised an eyebrow and took the slip from the Russian's hands, giving it a look over.

"So this fool was running his little extortion operations on his own?"

"Da."

"We might need to look into his company, just in case. Escalate things legally if it's necessary. Folks like that need to get their cash flow threatened to get the hint."
He mused.

"Course, if the suits can't be bothered right now, we could always just pay the company a visit. Ask about this entire fiasco, see what they want to do with the kid. Maybe we can even find out whether they've been swindling other restaurants and get us a bit of street cred by making sure they don't do that again."

Al paused in his musings as the elevator dinged. They were here. Al let out a deflated breath.

"We'd better survive this meeting first, though."

***************

When he and Vlad finally entered into the office, Al fought to maintain his expression. The suits were there, as always-- except Nicholai almost looked spooked, expression dead. Not what Al was expecting from the young lieutenant.

He had good reason to be, Al supposed. The boss looked pissed. Al thanked his stars Bear had kicked him off his ass and got him to actually drop by to the office. If he'd arrived late, he didn't want to imagine the tongue-lashing he'd get from the boss.

Nevertheless, he gave a slow incline of the head to both of the suits.

"Reporting in, ma'am, sir. You called for us?"



[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/XKbze8D.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Iron Tundra Main Office (Alyenka's Office)



With: Vladislav, Alyenka, Nicholai[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]



[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]

{coded by Ayama}


[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/nVWTsNK3/r2-1.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"You either work with me,

Or you get out of my way."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Alyenka Karmazin[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Iron Vice"[/div]
[div class=title]Leader of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
The knock that came on the door a short while later was louder and far less polite or refined than the previous ones. The two enforcers shuffled forward, looking nervous and nodding their heads respectfully.

"Reporting in, ma'am, sir. You called for us?" Al said, the smell of smoke following him into the room. I nodded, not bothering to invite them to sit down- this wouldn't take long anyway.

"I assume you two have heard the rumors about us supposedly dealing in Crimson Blossom territory?" They nodded again.

"Good. I won't bother asking you if you know anything about it because, if you did" I put subtle emphasis on the word, looking them both dead in the eye, "I know you would have reported it to me already. But someone does, so I want you to find that someone, and make them talk." I paused, wanting to make sure they both understood, before continuing.

"Start with whoever's been buying- get them to tell you what they know about the dealer, and why they think he or she is with us. Then move up the chain, track down runners, dealers, suppliers- anyone connected to it. Any mundanes or, Saints forbid, one of ours turn out to be part of it, you bring them to me. If they belong to another group, rough them up just enough to get the info, then report back. You got that?" More nods.

"We can't go around roughing up made men from other groups indiscriminately- that'll start a war on its own. But we also can't let them think we're not concerned about this and trying to get to the bottom of it. So, I need you two to be discreet about this, but not too discreet. Can you handle it?"

After receiving another affirmative response, I ordered Vlad out of the room.

"Go wait outside Nicholai's office- he'll be with you shortly." After he had left, closing the door behind him, I turned back to Albrecht.

"While you're on this assignment, I want you to keep an eye on Vlad," I said in a flat tone. "I don't doubt his loyalty, and I don't think he's smart enough to come up with this on his own, but he's dumb enough to attempt it and be tricked by some weasel promising him more money. I'll rest easier once I know he's clean."

There was no need to say the rest out loud, as Al knew perfectly well what he was expected to do if Vlad did turn out to be dirty. I sent him away to wait for Nicholai as well. My lieutenant turned to me after he'd left, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"We don't have to worry about Albrecht," I answered. "He's put his family under our protection, and keeping them safe is all he cares about. He's not dumb enough to put them in jeopardy by betraying us and, if someone tried to blackmail him by threatening them, he would bring it to me immediately." Nicholai nodded.

"I want you to give them all the info you have on this- people, places; anything you know. Once they've got that info, send them off and then come back, but have them tell Maria to leave the desk and get up here on their way out." He nodded again, and I waved him away.

After he'd left, I swiveled my chair around to face the window once more, crossing my arms over my chest. Just try to hide from me, I thought with venomous satisfaction. We'll see how long you'll last.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/V66BvFJy/r2-2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: No one atm[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/MYJOSUo.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it"

- Maura
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Maura Rose Anderson[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Gracious Gardenia"[/div]
[div class=title]Mundane[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]

Angel tears washed the dirty streets of the city as dark clouds thundered overhead, the sun had succumbed to the miserable weather and failed to make an appearance. Though the cold outside was frightful, inside the book shop the atmosphere remained cosy and warm. Maura sat at the window with a cup of hot tea in hand and a book resting on her knee, her friendly brown eyes watched as raindrops trickled down the glass and turned the outside world into a distorted blur.

She had always found that the rain helped soothe her mind when it became flooded by thoughts, and today they just so happened to be toying with her emotions as well as her doubt. Blue Sirens lit up the street outside as an ambulance rushed by and for the little bumblebee that had decided to fly into the foggy window, medical assistance would also be needed.

"Oh gosh! you poor thing" Maura moved quickly to unlatch the window and thrust it open, tearing a page from her book, she scooped the little bee up and made sure no more raindrops fell on his tiny head. "Don't worry, sweetie. It's okay, it's nice and warm in here. You just need a little bit of sugar then you'll be fine." Placing him down near one of the lamps, she fetched a few crumbs from a crumbling scone and planted them down so he could nibble if he wanted, it wasn't the same as a flower, but he might acknowledge her efforts.
The bee is a captivating creature, scientifically they shouldn't be able to fly, its plump little body is far too big for its wings, but the bee flys anyway because they don't care what humans think is impossible. Nothing is impossible. It is not impossible to search for kindness in such a misled city, it's not impossible to hope for better things and a greater future, and surely, it is not impossible to doubt something you have believed in since your earliest days. Now and then, Maura found herself questioning the greatness of God, How could the holy father take her grandfather away in such a brutal manner? But then, how could anything less than good create such a beautiful and interesting creature like the bumblebee?

She guarded the bee for a few moments, watching as he grew more comfortable moving around as his little fuzz dried "See, sugar. You just needed a little bit of help. You'll be buzzing around in no time." the smallest smile painted her plump lips and content with her company, she sat with the little bee and waited for the bell above the door to play its little song.

At that point, Mz Felderman tottered up to the window, scowling at the street. Maura didn't know if she was scowling at the terrible weather, or out at the city in general, along with the gang members that called the place home. The old lady made it known that she was unhappy about their existence, their presence, and the possibility that they might come into her cosy shop. Felderman was eighty-two years old, grey-haired and bent over and, it seemed, permanently sour (hence the nickname, The Harridan). Most days she was content to sit and read and sip her cup of tea alone, Comfortable in her own company she was rather happy if nobody came in at all. (even though it was bad for business).
She'd hired Maura a couple of years ago to help her take care of the tea shop and deal with the customers, as a result, she now spent most of her time in the back corner, simply ignoring them. Unless they looked suspicious to her, in which case she would usually follow them around the place, asking rude questions until they left. Maura had tried asking her once- why she hated the gangs so much. But the answer she'd given her had been vague and unconvincing- especially since she heard her give an entirely different one to someone else a few days later.

Rose might have been a sour and unpleasant old woman, but she treated Maura fairly and showed her small kindnesses, like giving her tea and letting her take-home book and leftover muffins at the end of the day. Maura felt bad for the woman- she was alone in the world with only her novels for company, she knew that something must have happened to make her act in such a negative way, and it wasn't her place to judge. After all, the Bible says you should be kind and compassionate towards your fellow man.

Besides, she loved the shop and her job. The more time went on, the more Rose trusted her. She now got to decide on some of the book orders, and she was in charge of the baked goods and menu in the cafe, including what selection of tea they put out. The customers who came in were all nice, and she got to talk about books all day. And when the store was quiet, like now, she could simply sit and read and drink her fruity tea- it was perfect.

Rose scowled at the window and huffed irritably.

"Hmpf, rotten weather," she commented. "At least it should keep those rotten little thugs away too." She turned to Maura. "Those hoodlum friends of yours aren't coming today, are they?" she asked irritably. Maura refrained from giggling at the well-known tune, patient as ever (even though they'd had this conversation dozens of times already).

"They aren't hoodlums, Mz Felderman." The Harridan let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"Hah! Right, they're not hoodlums. And I had a ham sandwich for lunch," she quipped acidly. "Don't lie to me, girl- they're a bunch of good-for-nothings, and you know it. Especially that Jay," she spat. Maura giggled. With his dyed hair, various piercings and tattoos, and lack of respect for pretty much everything, Jay (who was a hoodlum) essentially embodied everything Rose thought of when she pictured a gang member. The funny thing was- most gang members looked nothing like that at all. Many wore finely tailored suits, spoke eloquently and were, in fact, very pleasant. But Rose, with her narrow vision and understanding of the criminal world, only flagged those who fit her stereotype, linking the two together.

She walked away, muttering to herself about hoodlums and thugs, and Maura returned to her book, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips. Once she reached the end of the chapter, she carefully marked her page and put the book down before taking her teacup back to the small kitchen behind the cafe counter. The brunette busied herself with cleaning up, she was careful not to bother the healing bee, heating some water for more tea and coffee and setting out muffins on a plate, she thought about her friends who'd be arriving soon.

It had to be said- they made a surprising group- Milo and herself, with their kind natures and sweet dispositions, Jess, Chris and Ainsley, with their neverending, rabid curiosity, and Jay and Bai, with their cat-like eyes, punk clothing style and many piercings and tattoos. It was a strange thing that had brought them together- an article Ainsley was writing, interviewing the city's youth about the gangs and how it affected their lives. The article had become quite well-known and garnered Ainsley a lot of journalistic recognition. But what was stranger still was they had become friends afterwards.

They got together at the bookshop most days, to hang out and chat and just be normal young people. Sometimes they'd end up going out to a club or bar Jess had heard about, or to the drag races Jay, Bai and Ainsley were so fond of. Maura never would have thought that she'd be hanging out with people like them but, despite their differences, and the Harridan's objections, they were nice, fun, cool people whom she enjoyed spending time with. She brought the plate of muffins to their customary table and glanced out the window as she set it down, wondering who would be the first to arrive.


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/mSn9929.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Autumn Leaves

With: The Harridan[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/brDLvRsC/i3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Aoife's the name

And killing is the game."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Aoife O'Halloran[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Cyan Bullet"[/div]
[div class=title]Wetwork asset for the Antonellis[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Lorenzo smiled that amused-yet-somehow-tender smile (though that last part might've been her imagination) and adjusted his glasses.

"Well, if all Irishmen are as scary as you are, then I've got good reason to bring you along."

Aoife grinned wide at the compliment- she was quite proud of her skills.

"Under the assumption that the Bull and his Sledgehammer will be meeting with us face to face, I cannot in good faith position an assassin to keep an eye on them should things go south." He paused, then continued. "And they are your family, after all. With that being said, you're coming with me to the meeting to see them face to face, then. Hope you're ready for an impromptu family reunion."

Aoife stared at him. She'd been reassured that he wasn't asking her to shoot her family members but, to be honest, she would've been more at ease a hundred yards away, observing the meeting through her sniper sight, than there with him. Neither Connor nor Declan were particularly happy about her decision to join the Antonellis and, though the rest of the family seemed to have accepted it all right, things were always tense whenever she went home for a meal.

"Ummm, are you sure you want me?" she asked with uncharacteristic hesitation. "Shouldn't Hal be the one at this thing?" she suggested hopefully.

At that point, a polite knock came on the door, followed by Lorenzo's body double- Bonfilio. Aoife had to admit- the resemblance between the two men was absolutely uncanny, and it was incredible that Enzo had simply found him one day, as is. Aside from his voice and lack of need for glasses, the two were indistinguishable from each other.

Well, on the surface anyway. Fili might've had their boss' professional manner perfected down to an exact science, but he hadn't been able to imitate the subtly affectionate way in which Lorenzo treated her, and as a result she was always able to tell them apart. She smiled as he walked in, tossing him a grape.

"Fili, think fast!" she called. He ignored her as always, drying his glasses with a handkerchief and asking about the rumors.

Lorenzo welcomed him, indicating he should sit, eat and drink. He enquired about the meeting at The Vault, and asked him if he had witnessed anything or gotten any information. On a daily basis, Fili was actually out and about more than Lorenzo, who often had to stay at the Palazzo to give orders and coordinate, so it was possible that he had seen or heard something they didn't yet know about.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/kX831Qfv/i4.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Antonelli Palazzo

With: Lorenzo, Bonfilio[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
1582423357400.png
Bonfilio Caruso | The Poignard Shadow | Lorenzo's Body Double
Location: Antonelli Palazzo

"Right on time. I trust the meeting at the Vault hadn't been too jarring for you."


As Bon was drying his glasses, his thoughts were interrupted with a "Fili, think fast!" With his right hand occupied with the glasses and handkerchief, Bon's grab came out as more of a swat, awkwardly juggling the grape for a few seconds before it splattered on the ground. Realizing how extremely out of act he went, Bon quickly reset himself into a more proper position, followed by a scowl and sigh. One of these days, Aoife would be the end of him; that's been his thought since they've met. It was nigh impossible for him to replicate Lorenzo's own subtle affection towards her, his attempts appearing awkward or creepy. Though eccentric she was, Bon didn't dislike her all that much, though it probably didn't show in the silent treatment he displayed.

With a sigh, Bon started towards the table and poured himself a cup of wine. "Yes, Gabrielle's little tribulations were resolved with no issue, but those girls and their... ignorance of personal space almost dislodged the bubble in my throat, it's as if their only specialty is..." He ceased his relentless grumbling there with a sip of the glass. He had needed the stimulating tart of the wine, how it bit his tongue and soothed his life's stress. It calmed him in a way that he could think properly, though temporarily it may be.

Bon refocused his attention on the don, swishing the wine around the glass as a fidget to atone for what little stress there has surfaced. Though his face showed nothing but professionalism, he never felt comfortable around Lorenzo. There was always a nagging thought at the back of his mind that reminded him of the crime syndicates he imagined as a child; the ones that shot you dead and left your body to rot in a dumpster for looking at their leader the wrong way. Then there was a rational, idealist part of himself that explained they were human enough to not do that. But if there's one thing he learned as a businessman, it's to never show weakness, and so he concealed his entire war inside his head under a facade; has been for at least a few years, now.

"Did you, by any chance, hear anything from the people working at the Vault about the rumors? There had been interesting talk about supposedly seeing me at the crime scene after the police had started investigating, but it could have been someone else for all we knew. I'd also like to confirm whether you had witnessed anything or not."

So, Enzo wasn't at the crime scene, then?
Either some other lookalike was there, or it was a lie spun up by whoever the true killers were. It didn't concern him that much, though, considering Enzo was the head of a criminal syndicate to begin with. "I wasn't anywhere close to the scene, but the hookers at the Vault were very open about the rumours despite my presence, and it... varies, to say the least. One of them said his sponsor backstabed and cheated him. Some are saying the O'Hallorans did it, others claim the Antonellis... too many stories with no real evidence. Another accused me of killing him, and Gabrielle promptly admonished her." Bon took another gulp of his glass, lightly tapping his foot against the floor. "But if you want to know what I think, there are too many possibilities and not enough evidence for the time being. Even the O'Hallorans who we're partnered with may very well be responsible. Ah, no offense, Aoife." Once again, he'd forgotten the girl's origins, still not used to the idea of a daughter from a different gang joining their own, no matter how close the two groups were.

Ayama Ayama CrowOuttaHell CrowOuttaHell
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/qvspG3zT/Jay-1.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I live for the rush,

I live for the thrill."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Zhang Ji-Fai[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Hex"[/div]
[div class=title]Student, delinquent, and all-around troublemaker[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
I was woken from sleep by the insistent pounding in my brain, as if the bass drum from a pumping rave song had lodged at the base of my skull, vibrating it like a subwoofer every two seconds. I sat up in bed, groaning and putting my hands to my head, trying to calm it down.

This wasn't exactly unusual for me- my lifestyle meant that I pretty much woke up in this state several times a week, and I knew how to deal with it. Step 1, get some water. Step 2, get some coffee. Step 3, get some food. Step 4, start drinking again. Repeat as needed.

I looked over at the girl spread out beside me. She was as messy and 'give no fucks' about this as she was about everything else- sprawled across the bed and taking up most of the space, buck-naked except for the sheet draped halfway across her body, black hair messed-up around her face and crimson blossom tattoo peaking out at her waist over her perfect skin.

For the most part, I'd gotten used to this by now, but sometimes it would hit me again just how damn lucky I was that she'd even let me into her bed at all- let alone on a regular basis. It had been... four months now? Crazy. Not only was she hot as hell, hella cool, and with a few years on me, but she could drive like a demon and in bed, well, let's just say it was never boring or disappointing in the least.

And as if that weren't enough, she worked for the Crimon Blossom, which meant she had cash to spare. I got driven around in her amazing ride any day we hung out (she would never be caught dead in anything else), and spent several nights a week in her kick-ass loft apartment. It was a totally sweet deal.

I glanced at the clock- it was already past noon (unsurprising, considering how late we'd been up last night). I reached out and summarily shook her awake. She groaned irritatedly and slapped my hand away (she was even less of a morning person than I was).

"Baaaai," I called loudly as rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, "get up. I need coffee, and if we don't get there soon the others will have eaten all the good muffins. So come on!"

I wet my hair at the sink and ran a hand through it, styling it as best I could. Then I pulled on some pants and started looking around the floor for a shirt.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/bYxLpYDv/Jay.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Bai's apartment

With: Bai[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
[class name=container] margin: auto; height: 250px; width: 400px; [/class] [class name=containercont] height: 240px; width: 390px; [/class] [class name=chapterpic] background:URL(https://i.pinimg.com/474x/90/ea/a0/90eaa0b20c6fb60bc478055137bd6d8f.jpg); float: left; height: 240px; width: 190px; background-size: cover; [/class] [class name=scroll] float: right; height: 240px; width: 190px; overflow: hidden; margin-left: 5px; [/class] [class name=scrollbox] height: 98%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 17px; [/class] [class name=text] font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; [/class] [class name=title] font-size: 18px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #b7c7d4; [/class] [class name=codetag] font-size: 9px; text-align: center; margin-top: 3px; [/class] [div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]Huizhong "Lucinda" Kao[/div][div class="text"]The clouds and sky were merciless; this rain didnโ€™t have the intention to let up anytime soon and it was gravely hindering Lucindaโ€™s morale. Clad in nother but black overknee boots and a long, black trenchcoat, she was relying on the wingspan of her transparent umbrella to keep her and the empty cat carrier safe from the weather, and hoping her beloved treasure was somewhere safe and dry.

Meyli, her Angora Turc cat, had managed to escape home today. The poor thing was somwhere in this dirty, flea-infested city in the midst of unforgiving weather, probably left to her own defenses. She hadnโ€™t told anyone other than Fang about the disappearance of her cat, had texted her little sister the news with full knowledge she would keep the information discreet. The last thing she needed was for anybody to take advantage of this moment to cause her more distress.

Sheโ€™d requested Sloaneโ€™s assistance to escort her on the streets of the City under the premise that she had a few errands to run. Sheโ€™d stopped at a few stores so far and picked up a few items, mostly for show, but that pack of kimchi potstickers had been an honest purchase. Sheโ€™d wordlessly tasked Sloane with carrying her purchases.

They were nearing the Goy now and Lucinda hadnโ€™t spoke more than three words to Sloane. Her guard was always a little more elevated around these parts. She knew there were a lot of gang-slickers who frequented the bar, herself included, but it was no reason to ease up and get too comfortable.

There was a man slumped over in the alley of the bar. It was evident he was a large man. Maybe it was the dreary atmosphere, or her associated perception with the bar, or some combination of both, but Lucinda couldnโ€™t help thinking that, despite his stature, he looked small in comparison to the troubled aura he emitted. He seemed to have been there for some time; long enough to notice a a startingly white cat wander down the alley if it had.

โ€œSloane,โ€ Lucinda said, glancing at the woman. โ€œHead into the bar, Iโ€™ll join you shortly.โ€ She didnโ€™t offer an explanation because there was no room for negotation. She liked Sloane because she understood that notion. Luce could respect that about her, even if she found her weak of the heart.

It wasnโ€™t until her escort was well into the bar that Lucinda approached the disheveled man. She stood a foot from him and took a few seconds to pull up a photograph of her catโ€œMy cat is missing, and you look comfortable here, so Iโ€™m wondering if you might have seen her.โ€ She extended the image to him him, having disregarded cordial pleasantry for both of their sakes.

Lucindaโ€™s gaze was unwavering as she stared down at the man expectantly, and though her voice remained steadfast, the intention behind her next words were laced with the faintest thread of disquiet. โ€œSheโ€™s deaf and this is her first time outside.โ€


tags: Ayama Ayama - Sloane | Sicarius Sicarius - Atlas [/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/7LLTnZw0/it2.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I do my job

As best I can."[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Sloane Aleandra Gabriel[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "The Carmine Shadow"[/div]
[div class=title]Bodyguard to the leader of the Crimson Blossom[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
As Sloane walked with (well, a few steps behind) her employer through the rain-soaked streets of the city, arms laden with packages, she couldn't help but ponder on the contradiction that was Lucinda.

On the one hand, she was a ruthless mob boss- arguably the most ruthless in the city. She dealt with employees and enemies alike with often savage means, and seemed to have no qualms about the methods she used or the kind of businesses she engaged in. Her little sister, somehow, was even worse- taking obvious pleasure in other people's pain and terrifying most of the group, despite her young age. It was essentially the exact opposite from the Iron Tundra and how they did things.

But on the other hand, Lucinda could be surprisingly kind and compassionate on occasion and, twisted as she was, it was clear she loved her little sister very much, as she was the only family the woman had left. Sloane could respect her fierce dedication to her group and family, at least. She was quite caring and sweet towards her cat, as well, and had been quite distressed when it went missing.

So distressed, in fact, that she was now scouring the city in this pouring rain, looking for it.

When they reached the Gatted Goy, there was a man stting outside in the downpour, clearly too drunk to care. He didn't appear to present any kind of threat so, when Lucinda ordered her to head inside, Sloane nodded respectfully and did as instructed. When she got to the bar, she sat at the counter with Lucinda's stack of purchases next to her, keeping an eye on the pair outside the window.

"Iced tea, please," she requested of the grizzled bartender behind the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her, but brought what she'd asked for. She sipped silently for a while, wondering how much longer the cat search would go on.

At that moment, a muffled sniff came from beside her, and she turned to see a gorgeous red-haired woman sitting slumped over the bar, bundled in a large coat still slick with raindrops, despite the warmth of the room. She had a bottle of whiskey and shotglass set in front of her, and the bottle was already a quarter empty. The woman's eyes were extremely red, and there were tear tracks on her cheeks.

Sloane, feeling her heart clench up at the sight (she'd always been a very empathetic person) reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, handing it to the woman with a small smile. She wasn't sure what to say in this situation, but found herself unable to look away from the redhead's tearstained face.

[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.postimg.cc/XN9XFCdt/it1.png);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: The Gatted Goy

With: Ada[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]

[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}
[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ScBBRG0.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"I have everything and nothing."

- Nicholai
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Nicholai Milkovich[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Checks"[/div]
[div class=title]Iron Tundra Lieutenant[/div]​
[/div]

[div class=post]
Nicholai barely relaxed once he stepped out of Alyenka's office, his posture remaining rigid and gaze emotionless. He was numbly aware of his surroundings during the meeting and while he was heading back to his office. He hadn't been this out of control of his emotions since his family died. What was making today so different?

His normal was very far from how he was behaving that day, the lieutenant prided himself on being cold and calculated. This was not the time for him to be having an off day, there was too much room for error to let himself slip.

A part of him didn't even want to go meet with Zhang anymore, just wanting to go home and sleep rather than chance making a fool of himself once more. However a larger part of him knew that failing to make it would only worsen the situation, making Alyenka even angrier at him and likely ruining his chance to get to know the detective better.

Shut up and do your job, you buffoon.

Nicholai almost sighed when his office door came into view and the two enforcers waiting for him, he had almost forgotten. His tone was back to normal when he spoke, cold and emotionless, though slightly quieter. "Come on then, let's get this over with so you can do your jobs."

Lord knows you can't do yours

He opened the door and walked inside, expecting them to follow. Heading straight to his desk he flipped through a file for a moment before finding the information he was looking for.

"Thus far, most dealings have taken place in the alley around the corner from Flowering Fortunes. This dealer has done well not to show his face, he wears a nice suit and speaks in a heavy Russian accent. That is all I have to give you at present, and Alyenka has already given you your orders." He thought for a moment to be sure he wasn't missing anything, "On your way out, tell Maria that Alyenka would like to see her. Dismissed."

Once the door was shut behind the two enforcers Nicholai slumped into his chair quietly. What is wrong with me today?

He took a moment to calm himself a bit more before getting up and heading back to Alyenka's office, taking care not to leave her waiting for too long. Just the same as before, he knocked politely and let himself in. He did not speak this time, waiting respectfully.



[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ajsGZVi.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location: Iron Tundra HQ

With: Albretch and Vladislav[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

[class=box] margin: auto; width: 1000px; height: 525px; border: 4px groove #000000; background: url(https://i.postimg.cc/1XvJmX5L/NLywaW.jpg); [/class] [class=img] margin-top: 19px; width: 200px; height: 480px; border: 4px groove #000000; filter: grayscale(50%); opacity: 0.8; [/class] [class=info] width: 100%; height: 100%; opacity: 0; display: flex; flex-flow: column no wrap; justify-content: center; align-content: center; [/class] [class=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseenter] (addClass "hover" "info") [/script] [script class=info version=2 on=mouseleave] (removeClass "hover" "info") [/script] [class=text] margin: auto; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; color: #2f2d2d; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=main] margin-top: 19px; margin-left: -50px; width: 500px; height: 480px; [/class] [class=ID] width: 500px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); [/class] [class=name] display: inline-block; font-size: 30px; font-weight: bold; color: #2f2d2d; [/class] [class name=name state=hover] text-decoration: underline; text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #717070; [/class] [class=alias] display: inline-block; font-size: 25px; font-style: italic; color: #515151; [/class] [class=title] display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; color: #a1a1a1; [/class] [class=post] margin-top: -5px; width: 500px; height: 320px; border: 4px groove #000000; background-color: rgba(241, 241, 241, 0.8); font-size: 15px; color: #515151; overflow: hidden; [/class]
 
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w (1).jpg
Chris Bolt / C / Mercenary hacker
Location: The Autumn Leaves


"You know you can't smoke here, Iris"


Chris stood behind his mother as the woman was looking out the open window, cigarette in hand. Her long, black hair was neatly put in a braid, in compliment of the black dress she was wearing. The 34 year old turned to look at her child. The beauty didnโ€™t really leave, despite her age. There were still shades of youth in her face, which was currently wearing an annoyed expression.

โ€I do what I want, Christinaโ€

Chris flinched at the use of his birth name. She never had any respect for his gender and insisted on calling him by his birth name and gender, whether he felt like a girl or not. The blonde frowned.

โ€ Itโ€™s not a matter of whether you want to or not. As long as you live in my house, eat my food and waste my money, you follow my rulesโ€

Iris scowled and glared at her daughter. She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled the smoke, breathing out the smoke through her nose.

โ€Get a lifeโ€

โ€Get a jobโ€


Iris flinched this time. She glared at Cris one more time, blew a ring of smoke to her face and stubbed the cigarette before leaving the room. Chris sighed. He wanted to throw her out so badly, but for some reason, never got the heart to.

โ€™Sheโ€™s still my mother, after all'

Chris sighed and twirled his low ponytail. This called for some fresh air, and he knew exactly where to go. Making his way to the door, he was greeted by Gus, the Yorkie. The hacker pet the dog and fumbled for his keys when a footsteps came behind him.

"Were you and mom arguing again?"

Chris turned around to face Miles, his youngest and favorite sibling. His shaggy brown hair often got in the way of his big blue eyes. Chris sighed and gave him a small smile, ruffling his hair. He was by far the one that called Iris โ€˜momโ€™. Chris wondered how long it would last.

โ€Well yeah.. Look, Iโ€™m going out. I need some fresh air. Take care of Gus and Var for meโ€

The twelve year old looked nervously at the direction where Iris had gone and played with his fingers.

โ€I was actually wondering if.. If I could come with you?โ€

Chris was surprised. Miles usually preferred staying at home and only left to go to school. Chris looked over for any scars until he was convinced that Iris hadnโ€™t been abusing his brother in his absences. He gave the boy a nod.

โ€Okay. Go get yourself a coat and a leash for Gus. We donโ€™t want him to starve while weโ€™re gone.โ€

Miles rushed to the room he shared with Reggie and in a few minutes, the brothers and dog were out on the road. They took a taxi to the bookstore and tea shop Chris liked to relax in; The Autumn Leaves.

Making their way in, Chris waved to Maura and Rose and made Miles take a seat, holding Gus in his arms. The blonde made his way to the counter.

โ€Hey. Can I have some tea for two and a comic book?โ€


Tags:

Ayama Ayama DarlingPersephone DarlingPersephone
 
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[div class=box]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]"Oldest saying known to Underworld. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I was not there, and if there I was sleeping."
[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=main style="margin-left: -15px;"][div class=ID]
[div class=name]Vladislav Pryovatov[/div]
[div class=alias]a.k.a. "Triglav"[/div]
[div class=title]Runner/Bodyguard of the Iron Tundra[/div]​
[/div]
[div class=post]

Maria seemed troubled by his response. Vlad opened his mouth somewhat and furrowed his brow in confusion? Did I say something wrong? I was trying to let her know that I respect her decisions and would never tell her to leave if it wasn't what she wanted, but- agh, it's my accent when I speak, isn't it? Can't get my damned points across for the life of me. This thought process was said, rather fluently, in Vladislav's home tongue. "Maลกa, forgive me. English is not my bes-" he was interrupted by her taking the call, and then giving him news he had been honestly looking forward to for the better part of the day. If there was one thing he did not enjoy, it was sitting back and taking the piss out of lone troublemakers while this whole snafu about a traitor in their midst loomed over the whole organization. First thing's first, find Al and go up to see the Madame. He nodded to Maria quickly and thanked her, and took the note off the reception desk before trying to find his enforcer captain.

Al was where Vlad expected him to be. He was thrown off, somewhat, by the smell of very light menthols- not Al's primary brand, but he knew there wasn't a pack the Smokestack of the Iron Tundra wouldn't finish, even if he grumbled his way through every filter. He stomped rather loudly in the direction of the smoking room, and Al was already looking in his direction by the time he stepped in. "Al."

"Glad to see you're back. How'd the job go?" Vlad took a moment's thought about this. This was something I'd been wondering about. How much should I tell them? Clearly the Madam's cousin wishes for the extent of his victimization to pass under the radar, but I would be irresponsible if I don't go into the whole truth.

Vlad's moment's thought was just that, a moment. The boss needed to see them urgently. "I would be telling you, but there is matter of grave importance to be addressing."

"Oh?" He was still typing on his phone, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"The Madam Karmazin wants us up in her office." As was expected of his immediate superior, it was like a weight had been lifted from Al's shoulders, or maybe more accurately the feeling of a leash off his neck? Absently, Vlad wondered what it must be like, being in an administrative position overseeing the doling of violence when violence itself was what you excelled at. Vlad was very happy with his position at the bottom, utilizing the only true strengths he had for the benefit of the Iron Tundra.

"Think it might be a job?"

The large Slav nodded his head once. "I suspect so."

That was all the encouragement that Al needed to begin heading towards the elevators.

Once inside, Al asked again about he job Vlad had undertaken, with the foolish little suka doing his one-man produce extortion bit, and Vlad had explained the basic outline of the situation and how it culminated with seeing if that boy's elbow couldn't bend the opposite direction. As expected of his superior, mention of the last part brought a wry chuckle to the light-haired man's lips. "Did you break his arm?"

"Nyet." Vlad wanted to make sure the entire chain of command was square with that. He did not want the Madam to think him too extreme in his methods, or consider him a liability that may stain the sizeable legitimate portion of her empire. "It would land us in legal trouble and bring more undue stress to the Madam and Nicholai-boyar."

"Damn. Would've loved to see that."

Vlad looked at the document still loosely kept at his side in his ham fist. Slowly, he said, "Perhaps it is possible, if we look into driver further." He straightened his sunglasses, turned to Al and handed him the document he had penciled in for Maria to file.

Al found the gall of this lone, pasty-faced operator trying to cut into the restaurant's bottom line. He made a number of possible plans of action that Vlad would follow along with if they were given the go-ahead from either Nicholai-boyar or Madam Alyenka herself. Letting the delivery service know of the kid's activities, or- a troubling thought that Vlad did not enjoy musing- the delivery service itself was employing this tactic. It left a bitter taste in Vladislav's mouth, this thought. Iron Tundra was a criminal organization that prostrated itself and operated like a legitimate enterprise- that was modernization, an inevitable blending of ideologies. He knew the reverse- companies that were legitimately backed acting like common criminals- was true, and had been true from banana republics and corporate espionage of the current climates all the way back to slum lords and fat cats of the earliest parts of the Industrial Age, but it still left a sour disposition on him. Vlad asked only one thing, "So if possibility exists for the boy's company to be involved with ratlike dealings, what if we find this company is, ah, funded by business competitors?"

Al didn't respond to this query right away, musing about it until the elevator stopped. The doors open and they stepped out. Al knocked on the door with a heavy hand and they both stepped in. Vlad's hands were folded primly behind his back and he stood at full attentive height. Despite himself, he swallowed a tad. Nicholai-boyar was a powerful man in his own right if admittedly only as comparable to Madam Karmazin as the moon is to the sun, and that comparison was no more obvious than here, with Nicholai pale as ivory and a bit receded into himself, and Madam Karmazin with all the fire in her eyes of a flaming star, all the mettle and fury in her voice of molten iron.

Vlad did not say anything. Not only was he afraid of her, it was also simply proper of him as a subordinate in her employ to do so. He would not speak unless spoken to, and it was clear that she had no need to speak to him more than at the both of them. The idea was clear; they work the street and work backwards to pinpoint the source of this drug angle, tracing the entire operation back to its source. If it was another group, return with the info to the Madam and await further instructions. If it was a civilian or, much worse, a traitor, bring them to her; that more than likely meant drag them, kicking and screaming, to her office. You did not try to squeeze the Iron Vice.

He nodded at her orders, taking in every word, until she asked him to leave and wait in the room adjoining Nicholai's office. He stepped out, and saw that Al didn't follow him out; this made sense, he more than likely had more instructions as middle-management and that was that. He waited for Al and Nicholai in the adjoining room, straightening his tie and wiping his sunglasses with a kerchief when the two also stepped into the waiting area, and Nicholai opened the door for the two of them.

The information he had was brief, but enough to work with for a start. Vlad gave Nicholai-boyar a polite, respectful bow of his head, excused himself with a "We will not fail you," and turned on heel and walked out. There seemed to be more to the information than meets the eye, but... but... gah, Vlad could not place his finger on it.

Back down the elevator. Part of him wanted to voice the nagging concerns to Al, but another part of him said that following these leads might give them tunnel vision. Yet another voice said "tell him, but not yet". None of those were his voice, he kept himself silent on the way down.

The elevator doors opened. He stepped out. Maria was still there. He still felt as if his voice did not lend itself easily to warmth, and that troubled him. Perhaps if she was not about to go to a meeting with Alyenka and he was not about to most likely crack a few skulls, he would be able to articulate himself better to her with more time. But that was not an option now. "Our meeting with the Madam has finished, Maลกa, and now she asks for you. She is... well, you have heard her. Hopefully work we do today puts troubles of hers to sleep, da?"


[/div][/div]
[div class=img style="margin-left: 10px; background-image: url(https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/richardsony3.jpg);"][div class=info][div class=text]Location:Iron Tundra HQ
With: Jaellagirl Jaellagirl (Maria Snyega), CrowOuttaHell CrowOuttaHell (Albrecht Schneider), Ayama Ayama (Alyenka Karmazin), and CoachA CoachA (Nicholai Milkovich)
[/div][/div][/div]
[/div]


[clickable name, hover tags & hidden scroll]
{coded by Ayama}

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