The Arrival

One day, maybe you were figuring out how you would afford groceries for your family, maybe you were walking down the street to a job you hate, or maybe you were getting ready to do something extreme anyway; You receive a phone call, a letter, a text. By whatever means, you’re contacted by someone only referring to themselves as Mr. Dust. You have something they need. Whether or not you already have a criminal record, or have the right reputation, you’re told that you are worthy of joining an organization called ‘The Citizens’. You’re given the address of a payphone.
Upon approaching the beat up and surprisingly working phone, it rings. On the other end of the line is the voice of another man. He gives you a second address and you are told not to take a taxi or bring any kind of vehicle.
After arriving at the address given, a warehouse marked ’67- Otto’s Premium Meats’. It’s an old, dilapidated building with the windows boarded up and the front doors chained and padlocked. On the corner of the building is a small cent sign painted in green with an arrow pointing around the side of the building.
Around the corner, in the distance several figures can be seen huddled around burning trash cans scattered across the industrial park. None of them notice you, as you’re just another gray shadow on the landscape. Broken glass crunch beneath your feet as you approach a small side door marked ‘deliveries’. In newer letters next to it but in the same paint: ‘Please knock twice’.

Shiloh regarded the door with a downturned lip and a raised eyebrow over a stare of wariness, which was understandable enough considering how She couldn't help but feel like she'd been sent on some wide goose chase. A list of directions scrawled on a napkin, tucked into her pocket at a dive bar, had been the running late white rabbit in this strange tale, the rabbit hole becoming deeper and stranger as those directions led her to a payphone and the hissed instructions in her ear. It was almost theatrical, something Shiloh had read in novels and seen on screens, and almost such a farce that she half didn't expect anything to really come of this weird path she'd allowed herself to wander down.

Yet she had wandered down it, and despite the short kiss of teeth she released at the wide, cold expanse of the industrial park, and the roll of eyes she'd given to the crude sign with the arrow pointing the way, here she was, because Shiloh had been bored, and her interest had been peaked.

Shiloh leaned her upper body back an inch, burrowing her hands deeper inside the pockets of her bomber jacket, and casted her dark-brown eyes up and down the door in front of her, before resting on the sign again, lips twisting into a considering line at the instructions on the face.

Rolling her shoulders back in an almost shrugging motion, Shiloh moved her eyes from the sign to glance around her surroundings, one hand leaving pockets of her jacket and coming up to pull the grey hood of her sweater further down over her head. As she brought her hand down, confident that her decorations were hidden enough, Shiloh snorted in a quick breath through her nostrils and clenched the hand into a fist, bringing it down against the door in one knock. two knock.

She waited for an answer.

-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-

Henry walked, a little unsure of himself, through the streets he felt obvious and exposed. The phone had told him to go here and now he was getting nervous. Figures crouched next to barrels of burning refuse eyed him as he passed, he did his best to ignore them. Finally Henry arrived at the large warehouse the sign hanging on it "Ottos' Premium Meats". Ok he thought it's real he worked his way around the side of the building and found the door marked for deliveries.

Why am i doing this? he thought staring at the door. His mind went back to the knock on his apartment door and the envelope slipped under it, the simple directions to the payphone and then the voice telling him to go here. It felt like he had stumbled into a movie and he wasn't hero material. he thought about the last time he had been in trouble, when the police broke up the fights he was in. He had received a black eye and three months for it and he hadn't got paid for the fight. His landlady almost sold his apartment to someone else he was lucky he talked her out of it. now here he was broke and staring at a delivery door of some warhouse.

He cracked a wry smile, Nothing Ventured he thought as he knocked twice on the door Nothing Gained.

-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-

Lin found herself sitting quietly at her favorite Chinese-style tea house. The humble atmosphere was very zen-like and almost made you forget that you lived in a land filled with tyranny. A waitress poured Lin a soft green tea as she contemplated her next move in her investigation of her father's execution. The owner, an elderly Chinese man, was sympathetic towards those that fought against the tyrannical rule of the government, as most of the lower-class citizens were. The owner motioned for the waitress to leave as he sat down across from Lin at the small round table. His expression was kind but Lin knew that he wouldn't have come over if he didn't have something important to tell her. Lin took a sip from her cup and focused her eyes on him.

"De chá yōuyì yīrújìwǎng. Jiàn xiānshēng. (Your tea is excellent as always, Mr. Jian)."
"Xièxiè nǐ, lín. Méiyǒu hěnduō shuí xīnshǎng hǎo chá zhèxiē tiān. (Thank you, Lin. There are not many who appreciate good tea these days.)"
"Shì shénme xīnshì? (Is something on your mind?)"
"Nánrén líkāile zhù wǒ de zhuōzi shàng. Wǒ zhǐ néng jiǎshè zhè duì nǐ. Zhè shì gěi yè nǚshì. (A man left this note on my desk. I can only assume it is for you. It is addressed to Ms. Night.)"

Mr. Jian handed her a sealed note, it had been plainly marked 'Ms. Night', which meant that whoever left the note was probably seeking her employment. Mr. Jian got up and gave her a quick bow as he excused himself. "Qǐng chī de chá. (Please enjoy your tea.)" Lin carefully unsealed the letter and examined the contents. Inside was an invitation to join an organization she had never heard of. The author called himself 'Mr. Dust' and referred to his organization as 'The Citizens'. Indeed this 'Mr. Dust' wanted to hire her and had left an address to a payphone where she would be given instructions to find a meeting place. This level of secrecy wasn't uncommon given that the police were so vigilant in their oppression but it was still very odd to have been contacted in this way by someone she had never met. Clearly this person knew enough about Lin to be certain his message would be received. An opportunity to fund her vendetta had presented itself but what kind of commitment did they expect from her? What would they expect her to do for them? Could she really trust such a mysterious stranger? Who are The Citizens? There was only one way for her to find out. She would have to do as instructed in the letter and meet Mr. Dust for herself.

It wasn't uncommon for Shin to be found within the very-most slums of the city, but it wasn't your everyday occurrence either. Those around him knew that as well as the young mercenary did, although he disliked the term 'mercenary' itself. He was a thief through and through, over the years, that much had become evident within his day to day nature. These slums through times passed, were now his home once again. The only good part? Anyone apart of the so called 'law' or so they posed as, never- no. Very rarely entered unto this part of the city. It was the only saving grace for these people, some of which like him. Others simply fighting for survival be it against those upper class snobs as Shin recalled, or one another for scraps of food, scraps that kept these people living.

Still, as of now. That was unimportant. As cruel as it was, and Shin knew that to be so, any others living here were of no importance to him. What was you ask? To find a way so that he, himself could keep on living. Keep on fighting, and the most crucial part of that? To keep on looking too, looking for those that hurt the ones most precious to this young man. Luckily for him, there were those here who spoke his native tongue, not many but a rare few, that in itself was.... well nice. It felt as if he was back home again with talk like that, Shin's head coming to turn to his sudden right coming across another male who appeared quite younger than his own self.

"Shin-san, watashi wa kore o mitsuketa. Sore wa anata no tame no yō ni miemasu." (Shin, I found this. Looks like it's for you.)
"Eh, nandesuka? Sore wa dare karadesu ka?" (Eh, what is? Who's it from?)
"Shiranai. Shikashi, sore wa kokode wa, jūyō-sōda." (Dunno. But it looks important, here.)
"Arigatou." (Thank you.)

A small letter made it's way into his right hand, the other male leaving quickly after with a small respectful bow. On the front read 'For a Mr. Fox', so they knew him by that name? Whoever it was, looked like they had been doing a little digging about what he was up to then, at least that was the first thought to pass Shin's mind anyhow. It wasn't sealed from some of the finer things used by the upper class, as he had spotted on his journeys about the city. It looked rather common actually. Huh. Turning the letter over and taking the paper from within it's small package easily. Chocolate orbs narrowing slightly at what the contents of the letter, and what was being asked of him. Just what on earth did this so called 'Mr. Dust' want with him? One thing was for sure, if this so called organization named 'The Citizens' wanted him, it meant they wanted others as well. Might as well go check it out then, right?

Having headed where he was told all on foot, having lead him to a phone that seemed as if it was centuries old, but still remained in working order. How odd. The voice he had heard upon the other end sounded rather gruff and almost uninterested. But Shin could never tell properly by just a voice, he would have to meet a person face to face to find out. Following the directions given to him, although cautious about this entire situation, the young thief soon came across the warehouse with the number '67' marked onto it's outer frame. Seeing the front locked up tightly, Shin slowly moved forward, hands tucked within his jacket pockets. Although spotting them, he ignored any others within the area, coming to halt at the side door of the building.

Would he ever regret doing this, or coming this far so quickly? Nah. He could regret when he was dead, and seeing as he wasn't just yet. Until then... any being inside would here two tapped out sounds on the side door, that of a rough knocking sound. Twice as requested, time to find out just what this was all about.

The scrape of manufactured steel rubbing upon itself could be heard from the other side of the door, followed by the metallic thud of a dead bolt. It was only a fraction of a moment before the industrial door eased open a few inches to reveal half of a clean-shaven face. The man was obviously younger than Shin and yet a strange, weathered determination was clear upon his face. An obvious, almost paranoid glance either way as he stuck his head out from the confines of the warehouse before he eyed Shin up and down. "Mr. Fox. It was a confident statement rather than a question, showing that he clearly knew who Shin was.

"Mr. Grimm." He finally revealed his name. "An associate of Mr. Dust." An already gloved hand appeared as he pushed the door open the rest of the way and extended a greeting. In the front waistband of his jeans jutted the handle of a handgun, though he it was clear he had no intention of using it on Shin..

The greeting would be brief and followed by Mr. Grimm standing aside in order to allow Shin to pass. The interior hallways beyond the doorway was littered with the remains of old crates and cardboard boxes. A light at the end of the hallway opened up onto a warehouse floor. In the center was an old school chalkboard with an older man standing before it, hastily jotting something upon it. Beyond and near the loading dock of the warehouse were a pair of vans. One stood with its back doors open and another man arranging some items very methodically.

Alex was in a friend's car shop, working at a car's engine. As he was doing that his cellphone rang. He quickly wipes his greasy hands and took the cellphone, opening it. On the other end of the line, a voice reffering to himself as Mr. Dust. He tells Max to go to a certain adress where he would find a pay phone and await for another call there. As he ends the conversation and puts the cellphone back in his pocket Alex looks at the owner and his friend at the same time. "Hey Joe, I need to go. I don't know for how long am I gonna stay. See you later okay?" Said Alex as he put his leather coat on and left the car shop as he sat in his car, a red 1979 Pontiac Trans Am, starts the car and drives away.

This car had been in his family for years and it had alot of sentimental value to Alex. Even though there were times when he felt like selling it because he needed the money he couldn't do that. He arrives at the given address and awaits for the payphone to ring. As he was waiting someone approaches with a coin in his hand wanting to make a call but Alex stops him. "Hey not here, i'm expecting a call okay? Come on get lost!" Said Alex as he pushed the man away. The man looks back at him, mumbles something and leavs to find another payphone. "Come on man I don't have all day!" Said Alex as he looked at his watch restless.

Finally the payphone rings and as Alex picks up the reciever putting it against his right ear. On the other end of the line there was another voice that gave Alex another address, telling him to go there. But this time he was told to come on foot and not bring any vehicle with him. As the call ended Alex puts the reciever away, not very happy about the fact that he had to leave his car here. He picks up his cell phone and calls the car shop owner. "Hey Joe, listen. I'm sorry but i'm not gonna be able to return for the rest of the day. Something came up. Can you drop by 21st street and pick up my car please? It's parked next to a beat up payphone. Really? Thanks alot. You're the man! I left the keys on top on the back left wheel. Okay! Bye!"

As he put the cellphone away Alex starts walking on foot towards his destination. He was familiar with the place. He knew where it was. It took him some time to get there, since he was on foot. Normally if he was with his car he would have reached the address in less then 10 minutes. After nearly 30 minutes of walking Alex finally reached the place. An abandoned warehouse in an industrial park, abandoned as well. Whatever business the callers had with him, the entrance certanly wasn't through the front doors as they were all chained and padlocked. He then spots the green painted cent sign with an arrow on the corner of the building pointing. As he follows the arrow to the side of the building Alex sees the side door with the "deliveries" sign. It had the "Please knock twice" sign next to it with new paint in the same color as "deliveries". After looking back at the men who were burning some trash cans Alex does just that. He knocks twice and awaits for something to happen.

A mental sound that made itself known, the young thief didn't make a sound for the time being, simply listening and waiting. Yet wondering just why so much effort had to be made to open such a door, then again, it looked like it was about to fall into a thousand small pieces, and even the thought in itself produced a small smile from Shin. A few spare seconds ticked on by, that same door becoming half open within that time frame. Looking at the man that appeared, or half appeared from the door rather, who appeared to actually be younger than even him glancing about to what he would only assume as checking around the immediate area. A sensible idea if nothing else.

The look he received was only answered with an arched eyebrow from the thief, being eyed up and down by others wasn't normally what he expected, even with all he had seen over the years. But this whole situation was well out of the 'normal' category and more into the 'totally insane and fucked up' one. It quickly became clear that this man knew who he was, or of him at the very least. At the name given, Shin didn't pause to think or speak merely continued to hear this man out until he was done.

Chuckling ever so lightly as the younger male finished, the tall thief took this chance to speak. "More than one of you then I take it?" He asked fluently, as clear as the day. Removing his right own gloved hand from his pocket, returning the offered greeting both firmly and briefly. Well, looked like this would be much more interesting than he had first ever thought it would be. It was a thief's habit by nature to always check around for ways out, as well as who had what on them. Of course, Shin being Shin. He wasn't stupid, far from it actually, apparently he had first been noticed by 'those two' for his brain power. At least that's what he was told, not that he believed it really. Total bull naturally.

As such when he'd glanced at the male that let him in, sure he had a handgun on him, thus causing Shin to make a brief mental note. Not to try and anger anyone here, at least until he was properly armed anyhow. Strolling passed this 'Mr. Grimm' and further into the building or rather into the main part of the building, having had to duck his head to get past the entrance door, due to his rather imposing height at that. The young thief took this chance to look around, one van at the back shut, another being arranged and stocked. Looked like the only other possible exit, lovely. Hands still in his jacket pockets, Shin casually moved forward towards the old blackboard where another male stood, now simply stopping mid way to allow a proper glance around. Letting out a small whistle, it wasn't much but for as far as he could see what three people alone? It certainly wasn't bad at all, so for now, it seemed everyone here would have to make do including him. Now that was something the young thief was used to.

Grimm watched as Fox casually wandered down the hall and onto the former work floor towards Dust and his blackboard. It was clear by his eyes that the man had a thought process he didn't like to reveal to others. Stopping to lean in the doorway at the end of the hall, he watched the man almost pompously take in the surroundings. Grimm couldn't tell if this man was trustworthy yet and hoped his faith in Dust's contacts and vetting abilities was well placed. Whether or not he liked or disliked one of the people summoned to this place didn't matter. As long as they were willing to become a part of the cause, he was certain Dust would sort out the rest.

-

Turning upon hearing the whistle, Dust's face showed an entire lack of emotion as his eyes met Fox's. Removing an unlit cigar from his mouth and clearing his throat, he took a measured step toward the man. "Tell me, Mr. Fox. Do you know any good jokes? The weathered man rolled a piece of chalk slowly in in between the fingers of his left hand as his voice echoed slightly throughout the warehouse.

-

-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-

It was if he had a sixth sense, maybe so. But Shin could already feel himself being watched, and as far as he knew there was only one person a way behind him. He didn't blame anyone here if they were and or ever became suspicious of him or what he did or didn't do. That was his own choice, what he did was for his own goal. Apart from that, he didn't really have all that much reason to keep going, unless of course between now and then he found some other reason for living. But that thought was just a pipe dream, highly wishful thinking if you will. Nothing else to it, but it did make him wonder. If there were others who wanted a chance like this far more than he did, then why were they not here already? Or maybe he was just exceptionally early, either that or everyone else was late.

Despite highly doubting his latter statement, his mind was soon turned to other matters. Although the whistle he produced was only small, it seemed to echo within the warehouse, not really his idea behind it. Oh well. Turning his head in the direction of the male that spoke, said male's expression void of almost any emotion. How very strange, and interesting no doubt. Shin could only assume this to be the man that has summoned him, and most likely others here known as a 'Mr. Dust". After all, he saw no other as imposing as the man a few paces away from him. At least, compared to most he was, still, luckily and rather nicely for the tall thief, he still stood above the man.

The measured step forward, sure he noticed it. However, at the current moment it was of little importance. Thinking at the question put to him for a brief few seconds, the thief soon looked once again towards the man before him, a small grin tugging at his expression all the while. "Jokes? None that I can recall of, Mr. Dust. If that is the name you go by of course, or am I adressing the wrong person here?" Shin answered his tone both calm and collected, a seemingly light air about his reply. A small smile still remaining on his face as he finished, hands still within his pockets.

His attention distracted once again by the opening of the door he came from, tilting his head backwards to look upside down. Only to see another at the entryway, how nice. More company. Even from doing just that, it was clear that the young man was very flexible for his age at least, returning his gaze quickly back to the man before him. After all, he wanted to see if his assumption on the matter was correct, he was rarely wrong and that meant it was always a nice way to pass the time.

Lin continued on her way to the place she currently called home. It was a good distance from the tea house even on her newly 'acquired' sports bike. It wasp th garage an older model Honda with an all-black paint job, it seemed to suit Lin just fine. She rode to an abandoned parking complex which now acted as a sort of hotel for the homeless, just behind it was an old mechanic's garage which Lin had been using as her own. It was here that she stored most of her things as it was a very secure location and far enough out of sight that you could easily miss it if you didn't know where to look. She quickly locked up her bike and headed out once again for the payphone mentioned in the letter from Mr. Dust.

The address mentioned in the letter was about twelve blocks from Lin's garage so the walk wouldn't be long. When she finally reached the right street she could see a lone payphone. It was clearly old and decrepit but it rang as she approached. Lin stood before the ringing phone for a moment and checked her surroundings. After the third ring she picked up the phone and a man spoke tersely, he gave the address of the meeting place and hung up.

Matthew rode down the almost empty street, shivering with the bitter cold of the dawn. This was two days after a mysterious encrypted and anonymous message manifested itself in his inbox. Decrypting it and perusing the contents was short work for him- but what struck him were the implications. Evidently his reputation preceded him, and an as of yet unknown criminal organisation was attempting to put him under their employ. He would have preferred to stay freelance, deciding himself on his tasks, and carrying them out at his leisure. But times were getting harder. Freelance jobs were scarce, and he could barely pay the bills, let alone keep his equipment running and his ride fuelled.

As the wheels span at an ever increasing pace, leaves and scraps of paper were kicked up and billowed in the wind. Passing only a few huddled in corners or peering at him from behind blinds, he paid no heed to others. At last, rounding a sharp corner into an even tighter alley, he came across piles of rubbish, crates- and a solitary, almost out of place telephone booth. Though the surroundings were suspicious to say the least, his intuition told him that it was safe. Relatively. Dismounting from his bike with a quick glance to ensure that there was no one around, he calmly strode over to the phone. As soon as he entered the booth and closed the door behind him, the familiar shrill tone began to sound. Lifting the headpiece from the board, a surprisingly crisp and clear man's voice sounded out from the phone. 'Warehouse 67. Bring no one.' Then it was abruptly cut off. Filled with apprehension, Matt left the payphone, walked with a steady gait back to his bike, and mounted up. Now- to meet his imminent fate, whatever it may be.

-Reserved for new intro-