A Metallic Abstraction: Supernatural Urban Warfare

[aurorastorm]

OOC and Character Creation

"The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls." - a neon light that split the night

Part One: Jagged Gorgeous Spring; or, The Very Best Days of Our Otherwise Mayfly Lives

April 26th, 2012

Seven-fifteen AM. The man named Henry Beltane thought to himself as he looked around the wide room that he and his associates now found themselves waiting inside. A number of people were already going about their day on the streets outside as the radiant sun of Spring District coursed through the morning sky. The normally cloudy Spring District must have been on one of its scheduled Baby Blue mornings which commentators on TV loved like a junkie loves needles. Henry and the others were here on business and the man they were supposed to be meeting was late. This wouldn't have bothered Henry as much, the client being who he was, but the non-professionalism of one of his associates that really set him on edge. Chester was a good guy and always came home with some extra dough when he brought his cards with him, but this was a chance for real money, not street performer handouts, and the thought of passing up the event made Henry a little queasy.

The rest of his associates waited behind him, further into the lobby of the New World Orchard Building. One of the premier apartments for the new money that had taken to the chic living of Spring District, this new style of living followed neither the old-money nature of Autumn District nor the ostentatious resplendent nature of Summer District, but instead manifested a cosmopolitan air. One still had to be obscenely rich to live in one of the buildings, and many floors of the buildings also served as office-space in order to make payments for the costs of building the skyscrapers. This extreme wealth that resided in the building, while it often spelled doom for the likes of Henry and his cadre in terms of employment, could occasionally be steered toward a situation that would prove beneficial for all involved, and with just a small bit of getting to know the clientele (stalking), research (asking Harold when the trains ran), daring improvisation (shoving one's way through the crowd in the subway in order to knock said client onto the tracks), and bravery (knowing that the train would not be arriving any time soon and jumping down to help the mark), Henry had been able to secure a job opportunity for him and his "employees" with one Mr. Gregory Thomson, a skittish man around Harold's age that had made it big in the financial consultant world through hard work and lots of studying. The man was unmarried but hopeful and was employed at Reinhardt's Memorial Banking in Spring District. After a brief talk, the work was lined up and on the day of April 26th, here were the bums in their best business clothes ready for whatever work could be offered them, but the client was late.

The lobby was a wide area of polished marble-tile flooring with high-rise windows looking out into the busy Samhain streets. There were several small arrangements of chairs around the lobby, as well as potted trees and large black marble slabs which were mounted above fountains which sprayed water down over them. A receptionist desk waited in the middle of the room and while the young woman at the table looked uneasily at the Family, she had not said anything yet. In one corner of the lobby was a restaurant that served breakfast for the patrons of the building, though it looked like the workers were off to a slow start as only two guests sat in eating their english muffins.

Henry paced back and forth and looked over at the group of businessmen sitting around in one of the lounges. He looked back to his Family and wondered what they thought of the late situation. He didn't ask them though, as he felt it would show weakness in his leadership. Instead he simply determined to pace about uneasily as the clock ticked the seconds away. Henry was uneasy even more uneasy today than on an average client day. He had seen a horrible thing last night on the way home, but he shoved it away as best he could.

"Well gang, first big job in a while!" He finally said, clapping his hands together and shaking them as he looked at the other Family members. "What do you bet it'll be? Filing? matchmaking? maybe mr. consultant wants us to house-sit?" He said with a biting sarcasm in his voice as he looked at the refined building interior and mentally compared it to the old factory that the Family had taken as its home and headquarters. "Come on? how about we make some wagers? I got three cigs down on better than our last job doin' sewage cleanup. Anyone wanna make a more specific bet?"

[Khanman]

"Three cigarettes? That's hardly a bet." As if magically summoned by the hint of gambling, Chester came up from behind Henry. He only looked at him for as long as it took to make sure they didn't collide; the older man was buried in a secondhand copy of the Samhain Revere, which a random pedestrian had just finished reading. Chester flipped through the newspaper, glancing at the headlines. Nothing in particular stood out. "You can bet real money it's going to be better. Sewage cleanup..." He shook his head. "I couldn't do that twice. Not cut out for the life of grime."

Chester folded the paper up and waved it about, offering it to any Beltane that would take it. "Anyway, look at this building. If something goes wrong with the plumbing, they can probably scrape together enough cash to hire a professional. So no sewage." Despite his easy demeanor, the card shark could not emphasize enough how much he had hated the group's previous job. The murkiness, the gushing, the slightest smell. It had been a wholly disturbing experience for the man, and he saw it as Henry's most recent low point. "I'm guessing it's more of a personal favor. Actually, I'm not just guessing, I'll wager a hot meal on it. Any takers?" He went down the line, pointing at the others one at a time with the paper.

[Mastermind001]

{Harold Millions}

"Makes me glad that I wasn't apart of that lousy excuse of a team building activity." Harold remarked as he fiddle around with his cellphone. " And you two can keep you're bets. Not enough information for me to actually take part of them. " He added as He then stuffed the cellphone inside the hidden pocket with his blue dress jacket. Compared to the rest, Harold had wore a three piece blue suit, with a blue dress jacket, vest, and pants with a white dress shirt. On top of his head, Harold wore a blue fedora with a black band.

Harold suddenly adjusted his white and blue striped tie as waiting for the client to show up was upsetting his anxiety. " Through, whatever it is, it probably won't be good. I knew, telling you when the trains run was a bad idea, but only god knew what you're going to do with that information." He complained to Henry. " Oh well, done is done, but I hope the guy shows up soon and it involves my skills so that we can end the day early."

[TheLivingCouch]

-New World Orchard Lobby: "Here We Go Again"-

Marshal sat sprawled out on an overly posh chair, waiting impatiently with the rest of the Beltane 'family'. It was times like this he questioned why he ever left New York, or Pariso, or any other place he ever left ever. He could have been making decent money doing a dozen different things in two dozen different places had he only decided to stay fucking put. Here he was now, running deliveries and doing odd jobs for some slippery son of a bitch in a city named after some God damned pagan festival. That and a villain from ghostbusters, classy. Marshal wasn't sure he could sink any lower, but that was until that sewage job came. Dear Lord that had been the absolute worst. As soon as he had enough cash Marshal planed to blow this popstand and get as far the hell away from here as possible. Still there was a job to do and there wasn't any use in complaining, not that he wasn't going to anyway.

"Lucky bastard." Marshal said turning a lazy eye towards Harold. "Couldn't get the smell of shit out of my clothes for a week." He shrugged. "Anyway you can count me out to. Ain't no point betting on a sure thing, and I can assure you it's a damned sure thing. There aren't many things I can think of that are worse than cleaning up raw sewage and I don't want to be introduced to any more." Marshal shook his head. "Hate to ask it, but what's the worst this guy could ask? Hmm?" He needed a cigarette, or a drink. He thought, the rolled his mind around that sewage job again. Strike that: he needed both.

[aurorastorm]

Henry wrote Chester's bet down and began to glare at Harold and Marshal as they whined about the jobs. It was true, Henry thought, that the jobs he had gotten the family in the past had been, as some little brat he had met on the subway once would have described them, shit-tier (Henry did a mental rim shot), but at least he GOT jobs for them, rather than Harold who Henry considered primarily interested in himself. Not that Henry wasn't self-absorbed, but at least he wanted to be famous through helping people help themselves (and him). Henry did not feel the need to interject, however, as the older of the two malcontents was approached by a man in a very clean black suit that was fitted, creating an odd appearance that the blazer was actually the shirt of the ensemble. The man waited until he was directly before Marshal before talking.

"Move it lardass, you're in my chair." The man demanded of Marshal. "We've got a little breakfast meeting we're holding over here and unless you've got some serious trust funds you just aren't using, you are definitely not on the guest list."

Henry almost laughed at how abrupt the man in the suit was with Marshal, and looked on awaiting the drifter's reaction.

[TheLivingCouch]

-New World Orchard: "A New Challenger Approaches"-

Marshal turned his gaze to man in the suit as he approached, sizing him up. "Really fucker? Really?" He rolled his eyes and sighed before letting one go quite purposefully. The sound erupting from his rear end had been particularly obnoxious, the smell doubly so. Marshal had been holding it in for politeness' sake but screw it now.

He made a show of getting up and straightening his coat. "Fuck off jackass. Free country. I'll sit my lard ass where ever the hell I feel like it." Marshal sat back down and put his hands behind his head. "Also if you weren't paying attention shit-for-brains, the guys and I have been swabbing up raw sewage of late. Believe me you don't want these chairs." He said with a smirk.

"Now go kindly fuck off, will ya?" Marshal made a shooing motion. "Go make love to some politician or laugh at homeless people or whatever else it is you rich fucks do."

[aurorastorm]

The man stared harshly down at Marshal and was about to say something but he was cut off by a smarmy voice scoffing at the situation. "Is that a Bruckworth I see without his special chair?" The man was another rich person, who slowly stepped up beside Marshal and the man who had originally confronted him, Bruckworth. This man was a more genial looking person, a smile across his face that seemed a bit too fake and an appearance which, while immaculate, almost seemed too out of place to be viewed comfortably.

"Fuck off Halberstram." Bruckworth said to the newcomer "It looks like the trash got brought in. Hey, garcon!" Bruckworth called over to the receptionist. "These guys just here loitering? Can you maybe do your damn job and call security on them? Maybe get Lupita down here too to clean the fucking chair off. Normally you have to go out to Winter District to laugh at the scum, but looks like those mexican idiots aren't doing their jobs keeping our places clean!"

"They're actually waiting on Mr. Thomson" the receptionist called out. "He said he'd be down here momentarily."
Bruckworth just continued to glare at Marshal while Halberstram began to talk.

"Bruckworth, we need to keep an open mind about this kind of thing. You should maybe be a little bit more gracious that this hard-working samaritan thinks the chairs you design are so comfortable. Ain't that right... wait for it" he said before turning to Marshal and Bruckworth with a horrible grin on his face "Ya old fart?" he asked of Marshal.

Bruckworth looked as though he were about to punch Halberstram in the face for that comment, but instead just did a disgusted turn toward the receptionist. "Well tell that little bitch Thomson to get down here and talk to his esteemed guests so that we can actually keep this city running."

"Right away sir," the receptionist made a brief phone call and responded soon afterward with "Mr. Thomson is on his way down now."

"Finally" Henry thought while staring daggers at Marshal for attempting to start something.

[Mastermind001]

{Harold Millions}

_Lobby_

" If how you treat people is anything like how you run this city, then this explains so much about the current state of Samhain. " Harold remarked with a smirk to the man named Bruckworth. *He studied the man for a bit to get a good look of his face and facial expressions and made a mental note of the name Bruckworth for later on. Hmm, based on what the other guy said. Could I assume that other man, Bruckworth deals with something that involves chairs or something to that nature...He thought as tried to **place the meaning behind of insults and what it was all about.

"Anyways, luck had nothing to do with it, Marshall. Just had stuff, I needed to look into to see if certain things panned out." He replied to Marshal to get him back on track for business. " They did, but I'll share them later on." He added with a wag of his index finger.

*Forensics, **Politics

[aurorastorm]

As he was looking, Harold was able to commit the two men's faces to memory. He could not however, place the name Bruckworth or what that might have to do with chairs.

"Mr. Higgins!" A voice called out from the far side of the lobby, and Henry turned upon hearing his alias used. Descending the stairs into the lobby was the young Mr. Gregory Thomson, another rich man in a suit though his was more functional than fashionable like the ones that Bruckworth or Halberstram wore. "And these are your associates I presume?" He indicated to the motley crew that had gathered about the lobby. "If you will, gentlemen, please walk with me.. I'd like to discuss business with you all."

"Yes sir!" Henry smiled brightly as he moved toward Thomson and beckoned for the other family members to come along as well.

[Khanman]

Chester watched the back-and-forth with a hand to his head. Marshal making a scene. Now that's what I should've bet on. If security throws us out for this... However, the concern was ill-founded. Chester perked up as their client approached, tucking his newspaper under an arm and giving the man a slight bow. As Mr. Thomson began moving away, Chester turned and muttered to Marshal. "Well Fred, now you have to give up the chair. Come on."

Catching up to the business transaction, Chester walked next to Henry, opposite of Thomson. "So Mr. Thomson," he started genially. "Henry didn't mention how you two had met. What made you decide to come to the Beltane Foundation for this particular job?"