9 PM.

It was after hours for the public face of Cafe Thaza, but beneath that first floor of sweet aromas and cool, chic furniture was a beating heart that never rested. A heart that accepted the grungy, the beaten, the vanished. Three floors of miraculously well-maintained living space housed over a dozen names whose identities had become the subject of hate, violence, poverty, or worse. There was little natural light that came into it during the daylight hours, and so, even as it transitioned from dawn to dusk, the shaded -oftentimes fully shut- windows offered little clue as to the time of day.

For all of its colorful folk, the living spaces tended to be deathly quiet, broken only by the occasional light conversation of conscious occupants.

...Or the cries that accompanied a grievous wound.

The doors of Cafe Thaza floor B1 were thrown open, as they usually are when someone came in with a gunshot to their stomach. Two individuals carried the wounded man by his legs and arms down the short flight of stairs in the corner of the living room as blood trailed along the clean carpets. Melanie "Mom" Dresdain and an older gentleman whose identity was unknown to those present in the room carried him over to a couch while he groaned in pain, occasionally shrieking as they jostled him just a little too roughly. Time was of the essence.

With nary the energy or will to even curl up on the couch, the wounded young man left his wound for all to see. Mom stepped back, blood staining her apron, while the other man spoke in a hurried, gruff tone. Sunglasses and a fedora obscured much of his face, as did the overcoat he wore.

"Damn idiot," he grumbled, the sound of a smoker's habit clear in his throat, "Fucking thinking you could be a hero. You ain't got the firepower with just two hands, boy."

Mom stayed silent, grimacing at the boy. There was little she could do besides hope; she was no healer, and as much as she'd love for one to fall right into the Cafe's lap, she'd rather spend her breath hoping to win the lottery. A doctor on call would have to do, but that meant waiting for them to show up quickly enough.

"I've probably asked this a thousand times," she said, turning around to face those that had already been in the living room, or wandered in upon hearing the commotion, "but does anyone here know any healing spells? The doctor is... Twenty minutes away." She gazed long and hard at the watch on her wrist, face tightening up as if hoping to convince herself she were exaggerating. The boy continued to groan, unable to retort at his older colleagues musings. Mom huffed to herself in frustration before stomping off to a nearby bathroom, throwing open the mirror cabinet to fish for some wrappings.

The older gentleman took of his hat and held it at his chest, turning to the others gathered.

"Awfully sorry about the trouble. We'll have him out as soon as possible," he said. Putting the hat back on his head, he looked about with a hint of curiosity; a raised eyebrow behind the shaded glasses made it clear.

"What are you all here for? Bad magic?" he asked as Mom returned from the bathroom with a heap of materials. Before anyone could answer the man, she chimed in for them.

"Stuff. Stuff that you don't need to know about. Now how about your grandson?" she said with a twinge of poison in her voice. The two began work on the boy as best they could. No matter how many times a bloodied citizen had come in through those doors, Mom had never truly learned how to work it out on her own. Stress always welled up.

While the injured one had been there for obvious reasons, the others were there for a variety of reasons.

It was a simple decision for those who didn't have a home, or couldn't afford one. A roof over your head that was free and welcoming was nearly impossible to come by. Those children who had been displaced by their past... Blood-stains and traumatic imprisonment barred doors to old homes and locales.

For those that had gotten on the bad side of the law, it was one of the few safehouses they could keep. A traitor of the Magus Prohibitum was unwelcome by both the society and Policus alike. A killing machine no longer wanted by the world was the sweetest of targets for the cities most elite kill squads. For a scientist of boundless imagination, captured on camera at the greatest criminal arcane hotspot... Even walking outside was a risk.

Whatever their background, Cafe Thaza was a haven for them, even if only temporarily.

Sabrina was laying on her bed wearing headphones and listening to a podcast when Bugbear, her kitten sized freak of nature and one of the few creatures she let wander about without supervision, was sitting next to the pillow on the bed gently headbutting her, determined to get her up. Pulling off the headphones it was immediately clear why, sounds of pain and fear could just barely be heard emanating from somewhere in the Cafe. She roes and drew back the curtains that shrouded her bed, the creature landing on her shoulder, cling on to her as she tried to get a grip on the situation.

“Are we under attack? Is someone hurt?”

She mumbled to herself as she stumbled out into her room, going to fetch the things she would need if either was the case. Looking around the room it would immediately obvious to the observer why the bed had curtains around it, several large cylinders of softly glowing light where situated about the room, illuminating the chamber in a dull orange glow. Within these columns half completed monstrous things rested, ready to be fused with her body or requiring completion to become autonomous servants. Along with this there were several fridges holding flesh for her work, along one kept distinctly separate from the rest and specifically labeled with fridge magnets that held alcohol and caffeinated drinks. The rest of the room was mostly filled with boxes full of scavenged machine parts: gutted computers, limbs of broken droids, heat-sinks, batteries and large boxes of wiring and circuit boards. Most of the room had been amateurly tiled like a bathroom and indeed there was a sink located against one wall, along with a mop and bucket. Finally, next to the bed was a part of the room that actually looked like someone lived there, a battered desk was home to a PC, a few books and sketch pads with designs or notes haphazardly scribbled on them.

Next to this was a wardrobe that was promptly flung open and a medical case, a simple pistol and a lab coat, which was hastily thrown over Sabrina’s casual cloths, were pulled out before she burst out of the room looking for the source of the noise, signaling for one of the chipped combat creatures to follow her. The small beast awoke and padded after her as she rushed away towards floor B1.

She bust through the door of the living room, coat flapping behind her, BugBear clinging to her shoulder, medical case in one hand and the handgun held awkwardly sticking out of one of the coat's pockets. She was followed by a jet black creature that came up to about her knees that looked like a dog she had tried to make into a dragon. Parts of the creature's scaly skin were breached by orange glow where the internal powers system needed to vent excess heat, the same glow emanated from the creature's mouth allowing its bites to also badly burn whatever it latched onto if it was currently fired up enough.

“I heard someone screaming, what going…”

It was at this point she noticed the source of the sound, the young man with the bullet wound laying on the sofa.

“Good evening to you both, I hope you don't mind if I take a look at the young gentleman there? My magic involves working with flesh so I may be able to do something to at least stem the bleeding. Biter take this.”

She dropped the pistol (which it turned out she had forgotten to load in her haste) to the creature and the beast obediently griped it in it's jaw, as Sabrina stored up to the wounded individual, plonking the case down next to him and kneeling down to inspect the injury. She flicked open the case which primarily contained some disposable gloves and 2 coulombs of light containing respectively: a blob of stem cells she had carefully cultivated from animal bone marrow and then altered slightly to be human compatible and Meld, a substance used to bond magitec to flesh. She retrieved a pair of gloves and quickly snapped the case shut again because though they were useful the contents of the meat cylinder were not a pretty sight and she would rather not disturb either the subject or the unknown man with the exact nature of her craft at this time.

“ Right. Let’s take a look at this wound shall we. I am going to use my magic to see the depths of the injury so do not be alarmed by the light and try to remain still.”

She made a circular motion with a finger above the wound and a ring of light forming as she traced it. Then, placing her palm to the circle, extended a column of light from it into the damaged zone.

“Hmm. There's debris still lodged in there, if we can get it out I can repair your body.”

She turned to the others in the room and asked.

“If anyone has the ability to easily get it out or destroy it that would be most helpful, otherwise I am going to have to widen the injury to get at the shrapnel, which is going to take a while and could make the situation worse.”

Credit really was the best after all.

Sitting in a cheap, aluminum chair, Josephine’s eyes flickered back and forth on the holographic screen of her HeinBox, scanning through her monthly transactions and comparing them to the bundle of physical receipts she had in her pockets. At this point, she really was better off hiring an accountant for such meticulous work, but the ruby-eyed girl was never really bothered by it. In the past, she had obsessively budgeted every credit in her account, but now, it was simply pleasurable reading through all those big numbers.

Of course, her monthly income would really only sustain a middle-income family of four, but Josephine was alone, and such wealth was simply luxurious. Maybe she should splurge on something again. That new weapon the Policus was using, the Retra Barrier Bunker, looked pretty good. She’d been thinking of getting a proper melee weapon anyways, and a piledriver advertised as being able to pierce through even the hardiest Painstaker’s physical barriers looked fun…if inaccurate.

The small smile on Josephine’s features disappeared. Yeah, she didn’t have any use for a weapon that can’t even work as promoted. Closing the HeinBox and pocketing the small, black cube, she stretched and yawned, eyes naturally falling over to Room 107 of Café Thaza’s basement hideout. It had been years since she first crashed there, and even though there was now some nameless drunk rolling inside that space, it still gave her some fond memories.

Perhaps that’s why she didn’t ignore the bleeding youth that Mom dragged in, even when she wanted nothing to do with the freakish ‘doctor’ that seemed so eager to help a stranger. Was probably going to convince him into believing that he’s better off shedding his skin and turning into a monster.

Josephine swallowed her disgust either way, as she placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, firmly pushing the older woman aside. Not even turning towards Doc, she locked eyes with the older man, before saying, flatly, “300 credits, or I’m putting it back in.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned to the wound next, expanding her senses to the microscopic, and then molecular level. It was just shrapnel. Small bits of metal. Much too easy to distinguish from the sickly, torn flesh of this young fool.

Slowly, a trickle of dust, sparkling in the dim light, drifted out of the youth’s wound. Thin strands wove into the form of a small bullet in Josephine’s palm, before the generation was complete. It dropped then, and she pulled out the Punisher EMT, manually loading it into the chamber.

“300 credits, or I’m putting it back in,” she repeated.

The man with the shades was lucky Mom was there. He got himself a nice discount as a result.

Each page that Gerard saw was the work of a true artist. Every word he read held the infinite passion only a genius could intertwine. Truthfully, the book he read was complete drivel; it was nothing more than the maddened ramblings of the rich eccentrics who had saw their life as a blessing on other people. Gerard had a certain disdain for these people, but their works were interesting, to say the least.

The book managed to be readable through the muted light of an old lamp. Even though the room had large lights able to illuminate even the darkest of crevices, he preferred them off. At his old age, the bright lights hurt his ancient eyes more than they helped.

Quiet rumblings interrupted his lonesome reading. It wasn't unheard of for Cafe Thaza to become unruly. They were a rather mixed bag of people, after all. Despite this, Gerard decided to see what was happening. No matter what was happening, it was sure to be more tasteful than the book he was reading.

Gerard placed the collection of parchment down on his worn-out desk and turned off what little source of light he had in his room. He left the wooden chair he sat on and grabbed his cane. He left towards B1, hobbling each step of the way.

To his surprise and worriment, there was someone on a couch bleeding rather profusely. Gerard, despite seeing these things often, was always disheartened by those types of sights. It didn't help that Doc was in charge of healing the boy, nor did it help that a few of Doc's things were in the room with them.

His worries were slightly alleviated when he saw End helping the boy. For her to do such a thing was entirely new. He approached to thank her, but when she asked for credits, he stopped. Well, End was 50% of the way to becoming a good person. That was good enough for him.

He walked past the two of them and met face to face with the older gentleman. From his pocket, he pulled out three credsticks. Each one had around one hundred credits on them. After all, it wasn't the first time End did something like this. It was always nice to have something to deal with her demands.

"So," Gerard said to the man as he held out the credsticks towards him, "would you mind telling us what happened to the boy?"

A yawn escaped Vivian as she continued her grind to the max level of Ultimate Fantasy XXXIII. While it was clearly handy to not rely on any devices herself and 'experience' the wide web in a fashion that had yet to come, the too-young girl condoned the use of cheating - thus, making her rely on mortal means to actually achieve her goals in this game.

Regardless, Vivian wouldn't play such a game if she wasn't addicted to it didn't have fun with it. Or maybe, she just felt... more not caring than usual? It hasn't even been a month since Gramps died, leaving her more-or-less alone. Since then, most of what Vivian did was lazing around in her room and experience the wonders of the world wide web; incidentally also giving up on a few projects she had going for herself.

It was, however, already a progress that Warthog managed to make the girl hang out in B1 again rather than locking herself up in her room. Right now, she really do anything to further the silent promise she had made to Gramps, but maybe it was for the better. In fact, Vivian actually did consider to quit what she was currently doing and instead earn her money by legal means through stock exchange. Ultimately however, Vivian felt way too lazy about that... and somewhere deep she didn't even mind dying. Heck, she could even visit her own Tombstone if she wanted to.

It was then that the more-or-less peaceful silence of the living room she was in got disrupted by Mom and two strangers - one clearly hurt. It wasn't an unusual sight, but enough that it always reconfirmed Vivi of still caring about others. A good thing in the end. Still, Vivian couldn't do much to help, and returning to her game while also paying attention to what was going on in the room now the purple haired girl did what she was always doing if she had the chance: Silently using her power for the sake of good fortune. If he was to die through a simple gunshot, then his chances had to be really, really shitty.

It was only after the freakish doctor, who had a weird pet with her, and the stone-cold Cleaner called End - which behaviour saddened her - entered the room that Vivian finally paid more attention to the turmoil at hand, ultimately even standing up from the couch she was lying on only to hide close to Warthog. Her curiosity was clearly piqued for whatever reason.

Elizabeth Carmine was still settling in at Cafe Thaza. After the complete and total demolition of the entire living block she had stayed at before, she was beyond thankful how her new job offer came with a place to temporarily stay at. Though, from what she had seen in the few days of her stay here, the term "temporary" was being taken rather liberal by some of the occupants of this place. Though she suspected that the people "Mom" allowed to become long-time tenants payed their rent in a currency known as "protection".

And what a weird bunch that was, Hex thought as she closed the door to her claustrophobia-inducingly small room. Rearranging arrays of notes on a small digital notepad, she slowly made her way down the corridor. A list of rituals and incantations flew across the screen, statistics and news about what was currently happening in the area tagged as "read later", numerous items on a long "shopping list" crossed off or removed. Lost in though, she shuffled towards what was a living area of sorts. Nobody else seemed active right now in this part of the building, although she could hear muffled voices from behind some of the doors. Somewhere, somebody laughed hysterically. Or maybe it was crying. The young woman didn't care enough to find out.

Instead, she approached the living room, which apparently had just become the scene of a medium-sized commotion. Hex saw a couple of the other cleaners gathering around some wounded kid, and immediately got out of the way. Neither was she decently educated to be of any help here, nor did she possess the skill set necessary. Seeing "Mom" and Warthog made her swallow the comment her tongue immediately had come up with. Something about kitchen heat and eating bullets. She dodged one of the Doc's pets, which reminded her of a more adorable, smaller Glav. She hadn't seen this one before and resisted the urge to pet it, what with the inappropriateness that'd display in regards this bleeding idiot everyone cared so much about.

As she silently let herself slide onto an armchair in the opposite corner of where the patient was being worked on, she only just noticed Zer0 hiding behind the big guy, as if she expected bullet-wound-kid to explode like a grenade any second now. Hex wondered how many of the bystanders there were actually, genuinely interested in helping, and who was just there to show off their awesome powers. How long she would have to live with these people before she'd start caring everytime some kiddo got shot in Neo Babylon. She pretended to be working on her notepad, but really she observed the assembled group, still trying to get a feel for their internal dynamics. Still far from feeling like an part of Cafe Thaza's community, instead of an intruder.

A haze of cigarette smoke engulfed Cafe Thaza's smoking room. Jiangli casually flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray next to him as he scrolled down to the next page of the book on the dataslate he was reading, as had been his routine for the past year. Considering he was a deserter of the Prohibitum, he rarely chanced going out into public when not on assignment, and his reading backlog had subsequently shortened drastically over the past year.

Just as he'd finished his current cigarette and was about to light his sixth one of the day, Jiangli shifted his gaze towards the hall, hearing some commotion come from it. He looked longingly at the unlit cigarette for a moment before setting it back into its box and tucking the box into his coat. Jiangli rose from his seat and headed out to see what the hell was going on outside.

When he arrived, the sight of Advent was almost enough to make him want to wash his hands of the entire situation and go back to his smoke. The sight of the woman actually being a medic instead of a defiler of flesh for once gave him pause, however, and he simply sidled up next to End, completely unsurprised to see her extorting a man for the healing of the boy.

"300 credits?" He asked wryly, one eyebrow rising. "That's almost charitable of you. What brought this on?"

Despite being the blood relative of the kid, the elder gentleman seemed far less concerned about his health than Mom was. Nervously standing by, it was clear she was only barely containing panic within her frame. Doc's appearance and reassurance eased her mood however, she visibly relaxed as the biomage set to work.

"Thanks Doc. I'd... not fully considered everyone here. Didn't think to call you for this," she said, biting a nail. The gentleman turned first to End, and then to Warthog as he offered the credsticks. Graciously taking them, he barely gave End another glance as he extended the money for her with an apathetic gesture.

"He got shot," the man answered to Gerard. When the answer's unsatisfactory nature was made known, either through silence or protest, he continued. "The boy's cousin was killed in a driveby the other day. The idiot thought he could do the same... without a car. Soon as he darted off, he got shot in the stomach. He's got vigor to come running back home, I'll give him that." There was a moment of silence as Doc continued, Vivian's game music chiming in the background.

Thanks to the combined swiftness of End's 'generosity' and Doc's expertise, the boy was already mended fairly well, blood no longer spilling from his gut. The gentlemen seemed, then, quite eager to get a move on rather than let him lay on the couch surrounded by strange strangers. For all he knew End would put another bullet in him anyways and demand more. He offered Sabrina a nod in thanks before lifting the kid up by his back and legs, stronger than one might have expected him to be. Before he could make it up the stairs, Mom followed just behind, offering some inaudible words to the man as they both disappeared to the ground floor.

Upon returning, Mom had rid herself of the bloodied apron and walked beside the unstained couch. With a long, drawn out sigh, she flopped upon the flat orange cushions. "I'm quite bad at lifting people," she said with a light smile. Peering out from underneath an arm over her eyes, she began mouthing numbers to herself, counting everyone present.

"...six, seven. Perfect," she said, suddenly sitting up with newfound energy. "Cash sent me a message with a lead on a nightmare. Thinks he may have found one his own crew isn't very well-equipped to handle. More than your common 'ghostly spook'," she explained, referring to the film crew and accompanying mages that spent their time hunting for magical anomalies. Normally what they found were mere 'spirits' -arcane residue of a deceased mage's will. On rare occasions what they found instead was a nightmare, though they of course never called it as such during filming. Such violent encounters were usually reserved for season finales.

"...Though from what it sounds, this isn't a very easy one to find," she said, pulling out a personal device. Scrolling through, she came upon the message from Cash, offering it up to the first person to reach for it.

Melanie,
Got a tip on a spirit/nightmare. Sounds like the latter. Crew won't touch this one with a ten-foot pole.
Stats are grim; at least 20 deaths, and all of them were Mobbers. Seems targeted. Can't send any photos because of... shit. You'll have to send your people my way for me to explain.

Mom spoke as whoever continued reading. "It's late tonight, so you should see him tomorrow," she said.

The sound of chopsticks and the aromatic, but slightly greasy smell of cheap takeout yakisoba emanated from Rui-Hai’s corner of the common room. Silently shoveling fried noodles into her mouth, a small handheld device was in her other hand, the soft glow of the screen’s ill-adjusted lighting reflecting in her eyes. It was an activity that was not uncommon at all in any café, but as the blue-haired girl thumb scrolled through lines of text, it was clear that she had serious intent on reading whatever was in front of her. It was still just regular news. But for somebody like her, living along the edges of proper society, knowing the state of the union was as important as blood and water.

She didn’t live at Café Thaza; while it was in a bit of a slummy neighborhood, she had a flat that she could count as a safe place. As it turned out, when she didn’t have a job, the girl was prone to doing mundane drivel, and eating takeout at Mom’s with her degenerate friends was something that happened a couple times a week, and there was no shortage of drama that Rui-Hai could watch from just sipping a latte there. When the door burst open to an injured man being carried by his two ends, she thought she was going to be treated to an episode of a hospital drama today. The thought immediately made her think of the Café’s resident madwoman, however, and she made a distasteful face as she buried herself in her noodles.

The scene played out as mostly expected. The dark-haired Advent scurried out from her room with medical equipment to perform whatever surgery the kid needed. Rui-Hai nearly locked up; she had no idea why she was so charitable, but the usual miserly attitude End’s familiar antics drew her back into her proper senses. She made a light chuckle as she finished her noodles, washing the rest down with a lukewarm swig of coffee. As expected, Warthog had been charitable as usual. It was a wonder how he’d not been played heavily for his credits yet.

Rui-Hai finally stood up, collecting her paper mug and plastic food container to toss as Jiangli entered the room.

“Maybe she’s finally filthy rich and wants to get into philanthropy?” she made a dismissive comment, crushing the cup within the container and chucking the package into the bin a couple feet away. Brushing off her windbreaker, she shrugged before returning to her seat, paying half attention to the gentleman’s explanation. She brought her phone back up to read, but as the conversation’s focus turned to the café’s infamous proprietor, the mention of a nightmare caught her full attention. She was the first to stride over to glance at the message.

“Looks interesting. A bloody killcount already, huh? I wonder who’s outfit was hit.”

“300 credits, or I’m putting it back in.”

Well that was highly dramatic, but at least it had removed the inorganic material and everyone was now distracted so she could get to work without awkward questions about exactly how she was putting the man’s insides together again. For example, why she needed to take a drop of his blood and put it in it’s own little cylinder which she then pressed to the one inside the case. The answer was that she was altering the cells inside so that they had the DNA from his blood rather than hers. This done she lifted the vial now full of converted cells back out and used them to patch up all of the bleeding areas of the mans wound.

She rolled her eyes at Warthog’s reaction to End threatening to shoot the injured man again unless paid, namely to ‘pay’ the man for information, money which he then gave to End to stop this situation from blowing up in everyone’s face, effectively reinforcing her behavior and telling her that their paragon of virtue though pointing guns at guests was OK. Then again if she didn’t get what she wanted… Sabrina shivered, she had heard tales of an assassin that matched Ends description from some of the Painstalkers she met on her trips to the Necronomicon, it was probably for the best that this situation was resolved peacefully. The other option might result in none of the others in the room that might be concerned for the patients survival seeing the dawn.

"Thanks Doc. I'd... not fully considered everyone here. Didn't think to call you for this,"

“That’s alright, don’t be afraid to come ask for my help next time someone needs fixing, I don’t bite. Not when there's Doctoring to be done at least”

She could very well have kept going and replace all of the damaged tissue so that the man was good as new, but the apparently relatively apathetic relative wanted only the bare minimum before he got them both out of there so she retracted her magics and stepped aside to let them leave.

Before Melanie returned she went and removed the disposable gloves, sealing them in a small plastic bag before tossing them in the trash. She wiped her sweaty hands on the coat while smiling to herself, the boy had made for good practice of her doctoring and the action might also put her in some people's good books, particularly Melanie. She had gone from crashing at the cafe to being a permanently entrenched resident, based on the fact that a cleaners mistake had resulted in her old one being destroyed. She wanted to make sure she was considered useful so that she wasn’t kicked out for her controversial magic, so she was helping out wherever possible, either with medical stuff or with the actual cafe while she was not doing actual cleaner jobs. Also when it came down to it, while she might not be the first of the group who would go out of her way to help someone, she was not so jaded that she could just stand by and watch someone suffer when she could fix the problem with ease.

When Melanie returned she listened as the situation was explained.

"...It's late tonight, so you should see him tomorrow,"

“Looks interesting. A bloody kill-count already, huh? I wonder who’s outfit was hit.”

Sabrina was second to go read the message and in-order to stop this being a thing everyone needed to do, decided to just summarize the additional information from the message out loud for everyone else.

“In summary the message says: Cash’s crew is scared of this thing, 20 Mobbers dead, seems targeted, something stopping him from sending pictures which is odd, further details in person.”

She had to admit the 20 deaths part left her a little shaken as she went and found a seat, ending up near Hex in the ‘out of the way’ section of the room, Biter sitting obediently on the floor between them (quietly demanding the petting it had not received earlier) and bugbear curling up in Sabrina’s lap.

“Your Hex right? I heard you had quite the interesting companion, one capable of going tooth and claw vs a nightmare and surviving.”

Warthog was paying? End cocked an eyebrow at the older man, before ultimately shrugging. Maybe there wasn’t a reatioship between the two after all. Not her problem, really. She nodded at the gentleman, before stuffing those three credsticks into her deep pockets. The gun was holstered next, and she turned, uninterested in the riveting revenge story of someone who could run around town with a hole in his stomach, but couldn’t get himself a rocket launcher and blow up a car. Classic more-brawn-than-brains, huh?

“Jiangli, please,” Josephine said, one hand tossing her hair behind her back, “It was a small job…but I’m never rich enough to be a philanthropist.”

No need for them to know that she heavily slashed the prices so Mom wouldn’t get any ideas about shelling out more credits to help cover the bill. Like what Gerard did. Damned good people. They’d be so much better off if they just watched after themselves. Plopping herself down on the same sofa as she was in before, the assassin considered brewing coffee for the night, when the proprietress of Café Thaza spoke up about a new mission. 20 dead Mobbers? How impressive. And those weren’t random attacks either.

“Territorial instincts?” she mused, “Or is there a particular…”

The young woman blinked. So that’s why she got that request…

“Ah, the mob that got hit was the Himura Family. Was wondering how they could lose 20 so quickly, when rivals in that district really cared about them.”

Ian chose that moment to walk in with a nondescript but possible suspicious brown paper bag held in one hand, just in time to hear Sabrina give the summary. He looked around the crowded room and the very fresh looking bloodstains. He didn't look like he had decided how to react, having passed the man and the kid on the stairs.

"I either have good timing or terrible timing. We have some work then?"

To be honest he hadn't expected to see anyone here save for a couple of regulars. For everyone to have shown up it was either luck or something more serious. He was leaning towards the latter. Ian stuffed the bag into his jacket pocket. Work should always come first.

"We have an address or anything else? There should be a way we can keep people out of the area."

Although the news of the butchery should have done that. He went over a few plans of attack in his head. If ti was indeed territorial they should be able to lure it into an ambush. Get a few people and some of the docs minions to get the nightmares attention and then draw it out towards the heavy hitters like Arsenal, Warthog and himself. If it were as dangerous as it appeared then a quick kill would be better than a drawn out fight. He kept this to himself, they didn't have nearly enough info to come up with a plan yet.

"Cash sent me a message with a lead on a nightmare. Thinks he may have found one his own crew isn't very well-equipped to handle. More than your common 'ghostly spook'."

If Hex had been physically able to perk up her ears, this would have been the moment. Her first (and only) previous run-in with a nightmare was only days ago, and had been quite the experience. Getting to hunt another one so soon was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. The tension drained from her body when "Mom" mentioned that the hunt was going to start tomorrow.

“In summary the message says: Cash’s crew is scared of this thing, 20 Mobbers dead, seems targeted, something stopping him from sending pictures which is odd, further details in person.”

Liza cocked her head, letting that info sink in. 20 dead mobbers didn't really mean a lot. There was always the chance of them having been at each others throats when the nightmare joined the party. The part about not being able to send pictures was more interesting.

"Maybe the thing isn't very photogenic.", Hex thought out loud.

“Ah, the mob that got hit was the Himura Family. Was wondering how they could lose 20 so quickly, when rivals in that district really cared about them.”
The comment from End made Liza shut up and create a new reminder on her pad. She would have to look up the name "Himura" later, as it had no readily apparent meaning for her.

After looking back up from the device, Hex found the Doc and her adorable menagerie next to her, which brought a smile to her face. It gave her the chance to break some of that new-blood-ice and, more importantly, pet Biter.

“Your Hex right? I heard you had quite the interesting companion, one capable of going tooth and claw vs a nightmare and surviving.”

Hex stowed her pad in a pocket and sat more upright, leaned forward to carefully extend her right hand towards the creature sitting between them.

"That's right, or Liza while we're among friends." The Doc's use of the word 'companion' in this context summoned a wry grin on her face. She had considered Glav as a lot of different things, but never as a companion. Although it certainly wasn't an unreasonable descriptor. "And that would be Glav. For all I know, he can pretty much survive anything."

Hex looked around for a moment, trying to figure out whether her companion/protector/ball-and-chain was actually in the room right now. There were a few telltale signs that gave his presence away to the attentive observer even when he was hiding.
"I don't think he's here right now, though. 's not quite as obedient as your friends here and tends to hide in plain sight."

She gently touched the scaly head of the thing Advent had called Biter earlier. "And not nearly as cute, either." Her extended arm revealed quite a bit of scarred tissue, most of it in oval, bite-like shapes. Some of these had a dark-blue tone indicating that they were still relatively fresh and didn't receive optimal medical attention.

"What are those, anyway? Where do you find one of these?" She was very obviously delighted by the glowy dragon-puppy-eyes in front of her.

The patter of soft footfalls on the stairs heralded the arrival of another of the Cleaners. A pink-haired girl no older than Zer0 burst through the door to the first floor basement, dressed in work-out clothes that looked a lot like a track suit. She was visibly flustered, and even before she opened her mouth, easy enough to recognize for anyone who had been around long enough. The self-proclaimed idol was not shy about introducing herself to her colleagues.

"I was on my way home from some dance lessons and in the neighborhood," she began, still a bit winded from either her trip down the stairs or simple stress. "So I thought I'd stop by and see how everyone was doing here, and then I noticed the blood, and..." she paused to take in the current situation, which was far too relaxed to still be a crisis. "Um...is everyone...okay?" She finished with her best confused smile.

Those who knew her well enough would know that even if Honoka was out at this hour, she couldn't be "in the neighborhood" by sheer coincidence. Her family residence wasn't so conveniently nearby that she wouldn't be going out of her way to pay the cafe a visit on the way home, particularly at this time of night. She walked closer to he cluster of people surrounding the couch, judiciously giving any blood on the carpet a good foot or so of personal space. She just as carefully set down the gym bag she'd been carrying.

The fact that Hex did not simply to tell her to fuck off was a good start. "among friends" doubly so. Here was one well of potential camaraderie that had yet to be poisoned before she even arrived.

“I am Sabrina while we are here with the others, Advent when we are in the field. Though people often just call me Doc regardless.”

The fact that this Glav was apparently immortal was fascinating, speak of such a fact so casually doubly so. She would have have continued to ask about the creature if the ‘cute’ comment hadn’t taken her so of guard. It was rare for someone else to react to here creatures with anything but distaste, suffice to say Sabrina was extremely happy at this development. Biter wagged its long spiny tail and panted excitedly at the slightest pet because when it came down to it they were effectively just a very weird looking dog. As for where they came from:

“I make them, the integration of magitechnology and life is my area of study, these two are results of that work. For example: they used to be a malnourished stray but Biter here now runs perpetually on his own willpower.”

She also turned them into a small dragon thing and chipped their brain, the fact that this was weird and maybe cruel and unusual was more or less lost on her. The sentiment would probably also have been lost on Biter if they could understand the concepts, though that might have been the chip or the fact that they were a dog that got more energetic the more excited they were, which incidentally was what the vents where for. Turns out few things have more willpower than a dog that has been told it is a good boy protecting their's master.

The happy moment of one of the cleaners not recoiling in disgust at her creation was quickly brought to an end by the appearance of Liza’s arm, feelings of joy immediately replaced by concern (and the potential to get "I'm helpful" points). She recognized them as bite marks, she sometimes got them while training her creatures, though the ability to make them feel guilty about biting her generally made such occurrences a one off. There were so many of them, from scars to relatively fresh marks, all indicating a very aggressive animal that had nonetheless been kept around. That or she had a habit of fighting dogs or it was some kind of gang thing but considering Glav's existence, it was probably the first. They had not been treated properly, and with the number of them it was fortunate she had not gotten an infection or suffered from gangrene.

Keeping her voice so as to not cause a scene

“What happened to your fore-arm? It looks like something's been biting it. Allot. I can maybe fix that, the wounds that is, the scars too if you want.”

Chris’ bike was many things, but quiet was not one of them. Not typically at the least. It was why, even beneath the ground floor, the dull rumble of its engine was just barely audible as he pulled up next to Cafe Thaza. It took a few moments for the chime to sound when he actually entered the building, and it wasn’t long until heavy footsteps made their ways down the stairs. Nudging open the doors to the room, he held a bag of what looked like groceries in one hand as he approached the gathered group.

His head moved slightly, just enough to notice he was looking at each individual present. “Huh, guess I missed something,” he remarked as he then glanced down at the drying splotches of blood at the floor. Remark aside, he peered over Ma’s shoulder and hummed as he read the message. “Nice, nice.” A wide grin adorned his expression at the prospect of Nightmare work since it’d been some time since he last dealt with the beasties. Placing the bag atop a counter after he said that, he adjusted his shades and took a seat on a stool before he spun around to look at everyone again.

“So! Anyone figure anything out yet? Hash out any plans?” He spread his arms outwards, gesturing towards everyone that had gathered, as he spoke in a boisterous tone.

Jiangli let out a low whistle at the reported death count, grimacing.

"Twenty armed gangsters? We'll need to deploy in force and use heavy firepower to handle this, at the least." He murmured, reflexively reaching for his pack of cigarettes despite already reeking of cheap tobacco. He stuck one in his mouth, but didn't bother lighting it.

Jiangli shrugged at Echo, still resisting the urge to light up in a non-smoking room. "Can't say for sure yet. We'll need to see what Cash knows first before we make any plans." He shifted his gaze to Echo's grocery bag. "You pick up any more Lucky Strikes?" The former Agent gestured to his box of cigarettes. "I'm on my last box."

Vivian's eyes wandered to Jiangli as she followed the conversation along. "Twenty sheep are nothing for a seasoned wolf. Even a pup like me could do that if they'd happen to carry the wrong things." Vivian stopped. Her voice had been rather flat and neutral the entire time, and her eyes now widened. Gasping, she held her hands in front of her mouth.

Only now she realized what she had just said. Treating those poor souls like dirt and kind-of scolding the chain-smoker for treating the 20 dead victims like some big threat. This wasn't like her at all. Sure, after having been through what she had been, one would tend to have a more grim outlook, but the girl made continuous efforts to stay positive.

This? What she had just said were thoughts she'd never share with anyone, not even gramps. No, Vivian wasn't in her right mind. Maybe having been holed up since Gramps dad was indeed doing more bad than good. Yeah, instead, she should be out there and hunting this Nightmare, taking on the mission and all that.

"I apologize." She now murmured and lowered her head, hoping the others would just ignore her.

As the night sluggishly went on, the occupants and transients of the Cafe lounge eventually dispersed after conversations, jokes, and suggestions. For the time being, while they had all had their own experience's with nightmares, the information available was simply too small to forge anything beyond imagination. True consideration of the target would have to wait until Cash offered more than an enigmatic description.

Those who didn't call the Cafe their home went their separate ways, disappearing into the upper floor and street outside. The others stayed, retreating into the numerous small, oftentimes windowless bedrooms that riddled the bottom 3 floors of the establishment. Melanie remained upon the couch on the first basement floor, leaving the stained blood couch for cleaning tomorrow; or replacement, if it wouldn't come out. She fell asleep to the thoughts of arcane carpet cleaners.



The following morning was one of common chaos; with too few bathrooms for the otherwise densely populated building, anger was high as usual. When everyone had gotten ready, they were free to pick from the daily basket of baked goods Melanie would lay out every morning. It wasn't enough for everyone, nor a truly nutritious meal for anyone, but it sufficed in filling the bellies of those who hadn't the time or funds for the day to go out and eat a full breakfast. There were always a few that did, however, and so the basket often lay with one or two biscuits or muffins slowly growing stale by the end of the day.

With work to do, the manager of the building was already on the top floor, tending to patrons of the Cafe alongside whichever part-timer had shown up for the shift. From the basement floor just below, the residents could hear the heavy footfalls of bigger individuals, and the jingle of the bell hanging on the Cafe door.

To the side of the first basement floor, situated above a few old wooden round tables was a white-board. Most of the markings in black sharpie had been there for so long, they effectively became permanent. Old notes that were no longer relevant, along with a minimalist chart of some Cleaner names and their phone numbers or addresses. A star marked those who could provide sanctuary if needed.

Laurence "Cash" Slanne was one such individuals, though any older Cleaner knew well the man preferred his many homes to be a 'last resort' when it came to providing sanctuary. His address was faded but just as permanent as the rest, and marked only his main residence. Melanie had indicated the previous night, after a short exchange with Cash, that said residence was where the group was to meet him. A manor situated in one of the few "Envi-Novel" closed communities; a large-foundation high-rise at the upper reaches of the city, complete with more greenery than was imaginable by Neo Babylon citizens who'd never left the city.

However they managed to get to the place, the Cleaners had a long road ahead of them; the space between Cafe Thaza and the manor was about forty-minutes in length, complete with inevitable traffic once they hit the inner city. Up and down the city layers, onto magnetic freeways, through holes built into buildings... The group converged on the Eni-Novel foundation, visible even from miles away.

Situated between a series of five skyscrapers far and above the rest was a pentagonal concrete structure, like a plate being held atop bricks. Though they couldn't see the top of the foundation from down below, they could certainly tell it would be a bright environment once they got up there. After using a few off-ramps, vehicular elevators, and passing through chic, high-end, and blatantly gentrified streets, they came upon the gates of the Envi-Novel community. Behind the black iron gates was a wide-open series of fields and winding roads, dotted with small groves, parks, and trails. The occasional mansion peeked out from behind a row of well-kept trees.

It would have appeared extremely unguarded for a wealthy community in the current century, but the more perceptive would have noticed an occasional flicker of light just behind the iron gates; a shield, undoubtedly with quite the punch. Each of the Cleaner parties came upon a security checkpoint, already prepared for strange looks from the... robotic guard.

The box-headed robot gave the Cleaners a completely neutral greeting, unperturbed by appearances, thankfully.

"Good-evening ladies and gentlemen. How can I help you? Are you here to see someone?" the robot asked in a rehearsed tone. A mention of Laurence prompted the robot to check a screen just below its vision before nodding and pressing a button. "Indeed. Mister Slanne is expecting quite a bit of company, it seems," the robot continued. The gates in front of the cars lifted, and with it the faintly-visible shield, allowing them passage.

Coursing through the pristine environment, a rolled-down window revealed that the air outside smelled just as perfect. Everything in the Envi-Novel was maintained with comfort in mind, and to eliminate the sense of being surrounded by concrete darkness. Following the street signs, they found their way to Cash's manor which was, perhaps surprisingly, about as big as any other on the premises. Whoever else lived here must have been of equally filthy rich status.

The driveway turned into a dirt path that led up a small hill for the front yard, a place that could easily have fit six cars with room for late-night tire-screeching donut showcases. As the Cleaners all made it there, grouping by grouping, eventually the occupants seemed to take notice of their presence. A butler walked outside briefly, looking out across the driveway at the parked cars, before returning inside.

After a couple minutes, Laurence walked outside with a serious expression upon his face. The business tycoon was all appearances when it came to Cleaner dealings, though most everyone knew well how aloof he could be when it came to free time. He touched something in his suit pocket, hidden inside, before extending a hand to a few of the gathered Cleaners after they exited their cars.

"Morning everyone," he began, stepping back to get a look at all of them. "We'll be staying out here." Cash snapped his finger, and the butler standing a few feet behind him turned heel to fetch something. In the meanwhile, Cash took out a phone and began typing away, speaking in between bouts of texting.

"Sorry I couldn't give you details. This one's strange to say the least. Hard to give you an accurate account unless I can show you what's going on." He put his phone away, and a tiny, tiny smile escaped his lips. "And whatever you do, don't try this at home." The butler returned with what appeared to be... a simple cardboard box. Albeit a very clean and shapely box, but merely cardboard nonetheless. Under the butler's arm was a folded plastic mat, which he began to lay out on the parking lot while Cash continued watching the group.

With the plastic laid out, the butler set the box down in the middle of it and lifted the lid before waiting. After a minute, another butler appeared from around the manor side, carrying this time... a chicken. A live chicken. The fowl squabbled quietly in his hands, seeming uncaring of being carried across the lot. He approached the cardboard box and set the chicken inside before closing the lid and taping it shut. The bird fit perfectly inside, still clucking in the dark.

"Now then. Let me show you what we're dealing with," Cash said, putting a hand into his suit pocket before pulling out a photograph. From his pen pocket, he pulled out a sharpie and took a knee before the box, carefully looking at the photograph. After a second or two, he began to draw upon the top of the cardboard box, creating a strange symbol none of those gathered had seen before. It was complex, clearly magical, but not any sort of rune they could identify.

Cash paused and took a deep breath before finishing the symbol with one long stroke across the surface. Immediately he stood up and backpedaled, as if having just lit up a firework. For a moment, nothing happened and then...

There was no squawk. No peep. No chirp from the chicken inside. Only a sudden and violent explosion of blood that sprayed through the seams in the cardboard box, caking the plastic mat in dark red. As soon as it was over, a butler approached at a distance and threw a lit match upon the cardboard box, lighting it aflame. Cash watched as it burned before turning to the group.

"Now imagine someone put that on your door."

Diva didn't stick around too long the night before. She did have a home to return to before parents became suspicious, even if it would have been productive to spend some time with her fellow vigilantes. Sometimes she really wished more of the Cleaners were close to her age, so she could justifiably invite them over. As it was, she'd have to figure out other ways to socialize easily.

She did stick around long enough to get the gist of the current mission, not that it took particularly long with such little information to go on. "Wait and see" after a build-up of it being something seriously bad with a body count in the double digits already was...not really a great start, either. But, it's an interesting start, and one had to wonder why the gang was targeted. Didn't sound like they were in any real danger, at least from the initial report.

The next day, Cash contacted Diva to specifically request her presence. Such things always elated the young woman; nothing quite stroked the ego of an idol like being specifically booked for a gig. Never mind that it would probably mean risking her life. Such concerns didn't tend to register for Honoka. She did her best to excuse herself from such prior engagements like school. Not that there would be that much difficulty in producing an actual excuse for her to disappear, if her claim of sudden illness weren't good enough. She was going to see a friend in a high place, after all.

The trip through the city took a slightly different route for Honoka than it did for those Cleaners leaving from the Cafe. It was no shorter, nor less scenic, however. And otherwise uneventful, beyond Honoka proudly announcing herself as the entertainment, in addition to her name, when asked by the security robot. Any time spent traveling with fellow Cleaners would be filled with small talk, mostly speculation on the nature of the current mission.

There's really little doubt at just how filthy rich Lawrence is, with the sheer quality of his arcology-enshrouded residence. Honoka curiously peered into the windows, trying to catch a few glimpses of how the rich and powerful lived. It was a shame they weren't invited indoors. Although anything involving a plastic tarp and a chicken would probably be better done outdoors?

While not usually so faint of stomach, the idol gagged at the sudden, bloody detonation of what was just a few moments ago a living thing. "Ugh. You just had to ask us to imagine that, didn't you? I can't stop. Ew. Just...no." She paused to look away and take a few deep, calming breaths, "So, that's what happened to your 20 mobsters? Eugh. That some sort of new spell, or...what?" It didn't quite seem like one. Just draw a symbol and stuff...explodes? Magic's usually flashier or more involved than that. Certainly is for her own methodology. "This can't just be the latest black magic bad mojo, or it would be more the Prohibitum's job, wouldn't it?"