Swan Songs . Monday Evening

---

Victoria sipped a glass of whiskey and noticed the small woman who maybe was under age next to her. It would be unfair to ruin someone's night out though and it's not like she had not pushed the rules in the past. A surprising reaction to her drink choice, or was it... Was it aimed at her. Strange..

Turning politely, she seemed intresting, snall, head taller than she was but wasn't, t everyone. Victoria had long got used to her tiny 4'9 height. Had life been diffeent her and Marilania would be nigh on twins probbly, even during the wn to the almost matching distinct grey eyes.

"il take it as a compliment"

Wait... Somthong about the smaller woman, she seemed to gazing abit differently.

"drink like a girl eh guys?. So.. To a good evening then?"

Joking somewhat, the whiskey was having a effect, much as she tried to not admit it being her size and alcohol, it was pretty effective. Raising a glass awkwardly, the ice was definitely there. Strangers had to start somewhere right.

The slim nordic girl noticed too, guess not everyone was too distracted by handsome strangers like her sister.

"aye, they sure Don, t make for a relaxed atmosphere"

Her moment of thought was interpreted by Ren, she thought it was Ren anyway, Marlin seemed to like him anyway it seemed.

Turning round slowly, as she did not want to expose her self, backless dress was always a risk for sure. she seemed to agree with Marlin's choice, least one of the Romus sisters had found abit of fun. He seemed alright. And he was right despite her tiny frame and needing support of some kind to walk she was anything but defenceless. "

"yep. Victoria. Marlin's younger sister, or lady de winter. It was better than Elsa!

Oh. Yeah, him, just some rat from the sewer press. Il be OK. Thanks though.

Its nice to have a night out though. Missed Mali when she was working in Alaska"

Looking round the security was almost pepraring for somthing. What, she was to new she had no idea.

Oh... Someone new. She looked over seeing the very tall Asian woman and gave a polite wave. Wait. Was that the woman from the coffee shoo. Very few tall Asian women like her that's for sure! Hmm looked upset about somthing, angry maybe someone stood her up on a date?

Her curiosity was peaked but it would be rude to just challenge a random stranger. @Jay Kalton

---

Marinalia smiled but he seemed to be making it a tease well two could play at that game, and she knew he was certainly not gonna give up after a few jokes. He wanted a drink, well after what Kei pulled she could not doubt it, and felt like she had happily marked her egg.

Sitting down she waved over and stretched out a long well toned leg teasing him slightly. Well he made her have to reach up, she could give back just as good.

"sex on the beech, non alcoholic please?"

Turning back to Kei she seemed to be in a good mood. Tonight was working out well, though somewhat arrogant.

"oh, I needed to let my hair down, my sister arrived in town. Seemed perfect choice. Bumped into Ren. Fun happened. You a jazz fan or just love interrupting couples? "

Smiling, her night was working well, She could see Victoria was chatting and seemed more relaxed. Ren was talking to her. The room was busy but her striking white hair and skin tone was impossible to miss. OK she was teasing Kei abit but he deserved it for that move.

Over the jazz, she picked up a familiar tone some might of missed. The sound of a aero engine. Not a light one, maybe a medium lift or some other more powerful helicopter? She should know, she had flown one for a few years.

Keeping it to her self, it was probbly just a low flying air taxi. Some one the larger ones where modified civilian designs of the mass produced military models. Though she kept it low key, it would be hard not to notice she was concentrating on somthing.

---

@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@aladdin_sane@Voltus_Ventus

The Bar had all of a sudden become very crowded, and from his confident, laid-back state, Max retreated to a more upright and elegant stance; back straight and legs crossed, glass held in both hands with the ice swishing around inside. When he realized he was surrounded by women his cheeks flushed a little, his mother's words lilting in his ears. He raised his arm a little, allowing his sleeve to slip down a fraction so that he could see his watch. It was a simple affair, leather strip and silver body, though Max had always had a suspicion it was steel but hadn't had the courage to take a piece of sandpaper to it.

It was almost time.

Max downed his glass, 'To a good evening indeed' he muttered to himself, the liquor trickling down his throat like molten gold. He always needed a bit of the stuff to calm his nerves. Placing the glass on the counter behind him, Max brushed his hair with a free hand and stuffed it into the pocket with his bow tie. He regarded the women with a smile, "See you guys in a bit, yeah?" He spoke as if he knew them, or as if they had been aquatinted, and he supposed he listened in on enough of their conversations to be more or less acquaintances. In a one sided sort of way. As the band chugged music merrily out of their instruments, Max walked along side the stage, disappearing through a door half obscured by the curtains.



The band was dwindling at the end of its song, and at the stage left exit Max paced nervously. He knew his anxiety would melt away the moment he stepped foot in the spotlight, but it seemed his body wanted to make him earn the limelight. He uncapped a hip flask and took a quick swig, stuffing it back in his pocket promptly, as if he was being scolded by his mother. The song ended rapturously, a tangle of brass and the affirming cheers of the audience. The MC moved passes Max as if on a breeze, and he took the mic with a passion for celebrating the band, a passion reciprocated by random hoots and hollers from the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, causing Max to straighten up and adjust his tie, "It is my honor to welcome back our most inconsistent performance, who preformed for us a very heart warming song last Christmas, one of Sol's many knock-off Sinatras: Max Summerson." The crowd cheered and clapped, but Max presumed that was because they were a crowd and that was just a thing they did, he didn't expect any of them to remember him.

He stepped out on to the stage, dapper in black, and quick to give his best smile; which was somewhere between wet dog and drunk grin. But the closer he sauntered to the mic the more his smile grew, until he was grinning.

"You'll do great, Max." The MC said in a low voice, underneath what the microphone could pick up. Lucas could read anyone like an open book. He descended off the stage via the stairs, melting into the crowd and almost out of sight. Max was left alone on stage, band behind him, and nothing but crowd ahead.

"I maybe one of many Sinatras, Lucas, but I'm not one you have to pay for." The chuckle rolled through the audience, middling in size, appearing dense as the venue was particularity packed that night. Max could spot the spare folding chairs from his place at he bar, and there were plenty of them. "Let's cut to the chase." He looked over his shoulder when he spoke, and the band lurched into life.

"Every time it rains it rains.. Pennies from heaven~" as the music tumbled out of the instruments behind him, Max found himself swaying to the melody, holding on to the mic and stand with both hands but scanning the crowd with a smile smile as he sang. "Don't you know each cloud contains.. Pennies, from heaven?~"

Max pulled the mic off the stand and began to pace in time with the music, moving closer to the edge of the stage, where the roll of cool air from the vents above could reach him. All the while he smiled, and played it off as stagemanship - Free hand twirling and snapping to the rhythm.

@Monacho@PrinceAlexus@Furiosa@King Tai (I think that's everyone who tagged me, it's too late to keep track. Stayed up a bit late to put this together. XD)

Rupert Kingsley the proprietor of the Swan Song’s spent the last few hours hoping against hope itself that the trio of man-children would lose interest tonight’s event and go be someone else’s problem, but the influx of professional looking security dashed any hope of the taking place. The business owner placed his head into his hands as the head security guard bent down to inform him of the eta of the group. There was just no saying no to these people as permission to them was just a formality; decline their requests and they’d just show up anyways with a newfound intent to wreck your establishment. At least the passive route to these shenanigan spreaders ensured the relative safety of his shop, but most importantly guaranteed that a decent donation to the Soothing the Sol Charity would be received from Vencorp International. It was rather sad that despite the plethora of potential that these lads had for global good they instead were some of stingiest scrooges he ever heard of when it came to giving back to their fellow man and if reports were to be believed their combined charitable donations were shockingly miniscule; it spoke volumes that they had to be strong armed into giving something back to their adoptive community. As the head guard from earlier lead him to the small stage Rupert felt akin to a prisoner of a terrorist group being forced to read a prepared statement that denounced one's core beliefs.

After Max finished his cover song two of those outside security guards of lesser ranks saw fit to make sure the twenty-eight-year-old wasn’t going to make this a set and motioned from him and the band to leave the stage; their demeanor suggested the matter was not up for debate. These guys did not look like pushovers in fact they looked like they just wanted someone to give them an excuse to lash out.

A microphone was forced into his clammy hands, but before Rupert could utter a single word there was a splattering of applause from the assembled audience that up until this point seemed to be mostly enjoying themselves.

“Max Summerson ladies and gentleman. What a talent. What a talent. And the band…Wow what a great band. Am I right. Uh, well you may be wondering what this unexpected interruption is for as it was certainly not in the itinerary of today’s events…”

He felt confusion generally overtake the audience, heard some uncomfortable chuckles, and felt the proverbial daggers being stared at him by the assembled jazz and blues musicians.

“Some detractors have taken to calling our beloved Sol City the Human Zoo as of late. And….And in certain respects I hate to admit that they might be right. Tonight, I am begrudgingly forced to cede time from showcasing the importance of music to multi-billion dollar sideshows for the benefit of their massive egos and for what can loosely be called the press. Send in the accursed clowns and let’s get this bloody charade over with.” Rupert angrily tossed the microphone at the seething security guard and stormed off stage towards his seat in the back. He thought he heard his old friend and fellow audiophile Merle cry out ‘Give em Hell Rupe’, but it was almost impossible to hear over the cacophony of nose emanating from entrance. Send in the clowns indeed Rupert thought the head security guard approached likely with the intent to chew him out for not sticking to script.

=====================================================



As the helicopter touched down Sasha contemplated doing a line of cocaine, but refrained from doing so as he desired a clear head for his upcoming performance. In addition to the assembled shutterbugs there was large also swell of sycophants crowding the descending stairs of helicopter; toadies and bootlickers of all varieties who just wanted the runoff of the attention the triumvirate had heaped up them by the establishment. These hanger-ons were perhaps the most diverse group of eccentrics outside of the Howard Stern show as local rappers and less than scrupulous athletes mingled with the city’s premier fashionistas and oddball performance artists; infamous woo-peddler Dr. Allister Huxley was also in attendance and he was currently talking the ear off of a washed up former child star from the 90’s whilst a correspondent from a local gossip rag furiously transcribed the conversation like it was the word of God almighty. A few guards wielding submachine guns exited the luxurious interior of the helicopter once the all clear was given and forcefully parted the swelling swarm of people; once a pathway to the entrance was secured a red carpet was unfurled and the trio were ushered off the illegally parked Sikorsky S-92 VVIP Configuration Helicopter. Lupe Amor Asís was the first of three to emerge Cuban cigar wedged in his mouth his large frame flanked by his team of social media engineers who were responsible for managing his extensive online presence. Clad in his trademark outfit a blue Lacoste Chevron Stripe Track Suit, Red retro Air Jordan’s, and Cazal sunglasses he slowly made his way down the stairs w looking like a prototype Sacha Baron Cohen character that was abandoned at the last minute for being too unbelievable. His hands were adorned with rings from various championship winning sports teams that he never played on; these false accomplishments coupled with the fact he had his private security force beat up people for his own amusement only fueled his reputation as a modern-day Commodus. Once he was on the carpet two twin blondes tepidly rushed down the stairs of the chopper pushing past the social media team to personally escort Lupe into the building; one of the beautiful women carried a golden chalice formerly belonging to disposed Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi which was nowadays used to hold the putrid concoction known on the streets as Purple Drink or Lean. The escorts looked uncomfortable being so close to the infamous womanizer and despite insurances that they were just eye candy they did not trust the fat man’s intentions.

Khorshid Dana Charmchi followed shortly after almost falling down the stairs ala Gerald Ford. He was wearing a Ralph Lauren floral pattern jacket over a puffy blouse; he also had as a testament to his fervent belief in pseudoscience and the supernatural a very expensive pink crystal hanging from a platinum chain around his neck. He is accompanied by a personal bodyguard, servant, and lover known only as Bob; when Khorshid was a freshman and cheerleader at Yale a hotline psychic predicted that a stranger who in the next few months introduced himself as with a name starting with a B would save the young man’s life someday. Bob who was at employed as a barista at a coffee shop on campus when he had the misfortune of introducing himself to the superstitious cheerleader within the vague time period mentioned by the psychic. At first the pair enjoyed a platonic friendship sputtered with little trysts here and there, but soon Khorshid became jealous of Bob’s overall devotion to his wife. Khorshid spent a vast fortune wearing down Bob essentially ruining his life and marriage until the broken man had no choice, but to swear himself mind, body, and soul to his tormentor. If one was too look into Bob’s eyes they might become lost in the depths of his despair. Khorshid aloofly skipped after his large Cuban friend his long curly black hair blowing in the wind as Bob lingered behind looking like a long-broken man just going through the motions of life.

With his acquaintances gone Sasha once again considered taking his nostrils on a proverbial sleigh ride through the snow, but managed to bury his decadent urges for the time being. He had to stay focused on the task as it was up to him to bring a little culture to this drab little city. He applied a little powder to his face before exiting the cabin.

Sasha looked resplendent in his oufit which was comprised of a Jil Sander Black Tank Top, Lavan violet windbreaker jacket, Maison Margiela tapered wool-flannel drawstring trousers, Christian Louboutin platform ankle boots, Tom Ford stripped brown square sunglasses, and a Ippolita 18-karat gold cross necklace. He walked at a slighter slower pace than his cohorts letting the photographers snap pictures of his splendor as like a living work of art he was on display for all to bask in his glory. While initial applause was scattered Sasha chalked it up to jealousy, he was one of the beautiful ones after all and it was no surprise that his mere presence would stun the unfashionable into shameful silence.

If one was outside to watch the scene unravel they would be stunned by the sheer cacophony of sights and sounds… tabloid journalists yelling questions that largely went unanswered, the flashing of cameras taking a steady rotation of shots, car horns from angry drivers stuck behind the makeshift barricade, sporadic applause from the brownnosers, the shuffling of a multitude of feet, and so on. It was equivalent to all the acts of a circus entering the big top at once.

The group, their followers, and more paparazzi entered toward the end of Rupert’s tirade. The trio were slowly making their way towards the stage from the entrance. Guards who fanned out ahead were pushing the hapless out of the way of the procession. A cordless microphone was eventually brought to Lupe.

“You dirty fuckin’ mutt. We three humble wisemen…we three great kings…the triumphant triumvirate take time out from our busy schedules to grace this lowly establishment with our presence and you dare treat us with disrespect old timer. Homeboy you actin’ like you want me to beat some r-e-s-p-e-c-t into those tired old bones. Even here in Sol Shitty you must know I ain’t ever lost a fight. Check my Instagram playa. I can beat you with one punch…man." Lupe stops to take a long puff of his cigar before tossing it into the crowd causing people to scatter.

Sasha never to be outdone makes his way to the front of the group seizing the microphone. “I get that you lash out in jealousy because as you inch ever closer to your eventual expiration date you realize that you never accomplished anything of note music-man. So, listen to this we are simply your betters and that fact applies to every single person in this room. You are all quite privileged to bear witness to our collective greatness each and every day. Thanks to us the Perfect Posse what could loosely be called your lives have meaning even if your too ignorant to comprehend it. Like the muses of ancient myth, we are directly responsible for the cultural output of this great nation and I’d humbly suggest that I am at least personally responsible for this city’s resurgence as of late. Had it not been for my family’s billions this city would have defaulted on its loans during the great recession and continued to be a rotten uncultured cesspool. It would not surprise me that there are diseased minds out that yearn for this city’s degeneration and I can only pity those poor philistines.”

Loud booing can be heard from those not affiliated with Sasha and his ilk though even that does not drown out the inane questions of the entertainment press.

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus

Joseph wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up in Swan Song. It seemed like a nice place, but it probably wasn't the best place to be when, if he were to be a masochist and open his wallet again, he'd greeted by lint, an old, torn bus ticket, and maybe a quarter, if fate would even let him have that much...

In the end, he just sat down at a table by himself, slumping over it with a groan. It was getting to the point where his stomach was beginning to legitimately hurt, and it grumbled in protest of the notion that he would, once again, not be eating that day.

Just for context, by the way, this was day five of following this particular routine.

Glancing around the place, he noticed a few people who ended up standing out from the faceless masses his hunger-dulled mind had reduced most people to. People like that one white haired girl, whose skin somehow seemed to be just as white, and that... Japanese, maybe? Oh well, that possibly japanese girl who seemed to tower above the height of most Americans! Of course, they all might just have been his collapsing mental state exaggerating features that, in reality, were only slightly different to a normal person.

Still, the music that Max guy was singing was pretty nice...

When he stopped singing, however, and a man he could only assume was the owner of the place began to speak quite angrily about a few rich people or something like that, it was decidedly less nice.

However, as soon as the people he'd apparently been talking about got onto the stage, he decided that it was probably all warranted.

Just looking at the clothes they wore, particularly the white-haired one, made him look like a waterlogged rat in comparison. Then again, he was wearing the same torn up coat and cargo pants he'd worn for the last week, so even normal people made him look pretty bad though. Still, what they were wearing was just over-extravagant in... Well, almost every way he could think of, honestly.

The fact that one of them looked like Fidel Castro if he'd eaten the rest of Cuba's population didn't help matters much either.

Still though, all of their visible problems paled in comparison to when they opened their mouths. It actually made him want to throw up, and if not for the fact that their was nothing to throw up to begin with, he very well might have.

Just like before though, while Cuba the Hutt was bad, the one with the white hair was even worse. At least Fidel had the decency to talk like the trashy idiot he was. White-hair though, he had the nerve to try and talk as if he were an intellectual! He had the goddamn audacity to defile the English language like that and try to use big boy words to make him self feel superior to everyone else! As a writer, using words like that made him sick!

And if not for the fact that he was terrified even of simple social interactions, let alone the confrontation voicing his opinions would start, he may very well have said it to their faces.

Unfortunately, it was only thanks to the expressions of some of the patrons sitting on nearby tables that he realised he essentially had.

Because apparently, he had practically been shouting everything since the 'Fidel Castro eating all the Cubans' joke, and almost definitely loud enough for the people in question to have heard every. god. damned. WORD.

Looking around the venue, his eyes widened slightly.

"Ah." He said simply, not entirely sure if there was anything else he could say.

And then he looked around again, before standing up, making his way to the exit, and doubling over in pain as his stomach practically screamed at him to feed it.

Swan Songs . Monday Evening

---

Marinalia smiled at first, max. Yeah he was thr guy from the Starboard on stage and taking the venue by a small storm. Sure he started off abit slower but the tempo picked up and people began to take to max and his performance. He was good. Shake start but once he found his feet the crowd followed along with him.

Waving and giving him a thumbs up and a salute from thr table she hoped he would notice it, well he seemed like a nice guy and took guts to go on stage and sing. Well pilots had to stick together.

over to kei, they where at Swan song together.
"oh. It's the other pilot from the Starboard."

...

Then suddenly the set was cut short, the mood changed drastically as a man, must be the wonder or manager came to the stage and announced the arival of the trio and what seemed like dozens of hangers on. Gah, first along came the Cuben guy, Geez he was almost a cartoon character. What seemed like more rings than her grandmother, track suit and a mount about as refined as his outfit.

Shaking her head as he went on. Real polite, arogant, insulting, this lot made her own messed up family seem a utopia. Next came the Russain. Wait. Had she seen him?

Educated, not some brute like the other almost worse, a idiot being a idiot was meh, a educated person she held to a higher level of stupidity and personal dislike.

Turning to Ren and looking round for some of there goons first.

"who do fidel the hutt and ego head think they are, perfect possee... Gah.. I thought I hered it all!

Please pay my bail if Jabba overthere tries it on."

---

Victoria was relaxing and letting max's music flow over her, the man's voice seemed to have a magic about it and the performance was sure winning the crowd. Tapping her foot to the rhythm she added to the rapt applause and celebrations going on.

Smiling over to the rest of group. She relised it was guy from bar, and also noticed the tall Japanese woman.

"oh. It was, he was just drinking with us. Talented...

Hey. You wanna join us by thr bar miss? Your dates loss I'm sure"

Then came this perfect possee and she could not help but cringe as they spoke like they where kings. One looked like he ate half a country and tracksuits... Who did he even think he was. Jeez, thr other was worse. A ego and brain was more than the other ego had. Behind quietly seemed a darker skinned man in overly flamboyant clothes... Great they came in threes.

Laughing, the newcomer, well hardly dressed for the event but thr comments cut sharper than a razor. Gah, someone had to say that. Managing to just about stop laughing ernough. White haired, pale as a ghost 4'9. She hoped they where into slutty women in mini dresses and she could drink in peace.

"hey. Wow. Names Victoria.

Someone had to say that! Hell. Anything on thr bar. My treat.
Damn it. You earned it."

It was charity, sure, but that wit, and hey, they might not be so shined up but there head certainly was sharp.

---

@Rabidporcupine
@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton

"To a good evening," She clinked her glass to the other, before taking it straight. The second go-around seemed to be much, much harsher than the first, causing her to nearly need to scrunch up her face. She cursed under her breath the slightest, be for re-gaining attention on Victoria.

In her mind she could only think of what a strange girl she happened to be. Although there seemed to be a more present sway in her words, or at least in her composure. Even for her frame she still happened to be holding herself pretty well. And nothing about the woman screamed anything below elegance. From how she had at first approached the group to how gracefully her every movement was. Not to mention she must've been rich. A normal person wouldn't agree to pick-up the tab for anyone that rustled by, especially pure strangers. She reminded Olin of the local aristocrats her parents had field-days interviewing at whatever spot they poured into.

More specifically, a heiress they'd met in Lyon, France. She could vaguely recall the woman. The same amiable nature that spent similarly (though, instead of drinks, it was five-course meals made by chefs that had their own TV programs) and seemed to know everyone as if they had skipped the 'stranger' period altogether. It wasn't something she wished to dwell on longer, or even had to. Alcohol or not Victoria seemed important. Someone that would definitely come in handy some point in the future.

So she stayed quiet. And with the abrupt silence came an absence, and with that absence came a voice. Fucking jazz. Not that the other musicians prior weren't aligned with the same genre... It just wasn't fucking jazz. Like the type Olin had a few CDs of stashed around her place. The type you had to bob with, or swing, while flooding your veins with the voice. The type you could pop a pill to and slip into an endless haze, burrowing into the warmest depths of your breathing. Not only that - but the man was doing Sinatra justice. There was no way the man would be rolling in his grave unless he had a knack for good singers. She finally turned around for probably the first time that night, taking in the person on stage.

She looked around the bar. The gentleman from before was the Sinatra. She re-trained her eyes on him as his melodious voice began to burrow further, and further, and further. Damn, although he was dressed the part he didn't exactly look it. If she'd known prior that he'd be doing such a song doubt surely would've been tugging at her. Of course Olin was an open-minded person. There just wasn't many people around that could pay such homage to Pennies From Heaven. And of course the inevitable came. Once the song stopped he and the band hurriedly walked off stage, despite all of the applause they'd received. It became even more of a puzzling situation once Rupert, the owner of the place, huddled on in a mix between a nervous and defiant manner. On her brief escapades to the shop and peering over endless albums, she'd never seen him in such a way.

In came a short speech. Olin, not quite the intellectual, would've summed up his words in a simple manner: Assholes were being assholes. It was further re-affirmed when the... Musicians? Prettyboys? Guests? Strutted onto stage, reminding her of the arrogance her brothers shared and gallons of testosterone. Not to mention, she had at least taken the liberty to dress the part.

Of course someone like her had no room to talk, but if someone disgusted Olin, it was safe to assume it was within fair reason. Even the slimiest, sewer-trap bars in Sol would've refused them to play. And that's if they hadn't gotten jawed before taking the stage.

But it was chaos and interesting all the same. Although she felt ready to blow - mostly due to the fact Frank Sinatra (who was supposedly named Max) had been replaced with... them, not moral reasons - she was curious how things would play out. At the places she went to a guy could get punched for ordering the wrong drink. With worse circumstances than that occurring, with many of Sol's much more 'cleaner' citizens...

Then there was an outburst. From someone that looked out of place compared to everyone else, and... Shoddy, if you wanted to play it safe. He appeared weak above all, but the tone of his reaction seemed to imply otherwise. His voice seemingly became booming, blurting out jokes that ranged from ones Olin understood, and other's she had to think about the slightest (Contrary to popular belief, the Castro-one was not). She had to smirk. Especially at the dumbfounded look embodied by the audience, whatever-the-hell was on stage, and the man himself.

She was happy when Victoria waved him over. Hell, he deserved more than a drink. Surely after whatever ass-kicking (or worse) he was due to receive from the security or the... Things, he'd spoken out against. If the he managed to survive the night she'd be surprised.

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RabidPorcupine

It wasn't until late monday evening that Milo managed to get himself settled into his new place, an oddly reconfigured warehouse, now with a plethora of scattered tools and machinery, while also having his own personal belongings still scattered about. "Damn,
I knew I should have done a yard sale or something before coming here. Milo said quietly under his breath. He took out a cigar from a pocket humidor he keeps on him and throws on his jacket, he figured maybe he should just take a walk around town and get his bearings.
Milo stepped outside and saw the setting sun, it truly was nice to be here, anywhere that wasn't where he came from for that matter, at least here though he won't be looked at like a pitiful wounded animal. Milo locked the front door and lit his cigar. The old ten speed bike he had was not the prettiest thing but his doctor said that it would be great for his rehab so he brought it with him, he figured that it was cheaper than driving anyway, it wasn't like he had a commute to work, it was all for fun.



As Milo rolled through town he took in the sights, this town was far brighter, even in the nights like this, compared to his home town, but it was the record store that stopped him, Swan's song, how quaint, though the Sinatra being belted out was the draw, he walked in at the tail of the song, and watched the boy rushed off the stage. The men that got on stage afterwards were almost satirical, Milo thought at first they were a comedy act, but the joke wore thin. Milo crossed his arms and took a more robust stance, back home, this was when the fight broke out, though this was not the time or place to be picking the fights, he was ready just in case however. Under his breath he looked at the men on stage and said, "I snuffed a good cigar for this."

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RabidPorcupine@PrinceAlexus

After Kei's insistance on moving locations, Ren took it a step further and led the three of them to a nice little lounge area, somehow it was open and free of people. All things considered Kei figured all the nice lounging areas would have been taken up by all the other guests but they got lucky and was able to secure a nice quiet area that could comfortably sit a small group. The three of them got settled in, Marlin took a seat, Ren was looking around a bit and Kei decided to take a seat as well within the lounge area, after a bit of exploring from Ren he let both Marlin and Kei know that he was going to grab himself a drink at the bar. Before Ren was out of sight Marlin yelled for him to get her a drink as well, a virgin sex on the beach. Kei didn't say anything about a drink for himself as he had already enjoyed himself a drink and didn't want to run the risk of getting too much alcohol in his system considering he drove himself to the event. Once Ren was engulfed by the crowd of people Marlin relaxed into her seat and stretched out slightly, revealing some of her well-toned legs. Kei was unsure if that was directed towards him or Ren and as such he disregarded it. Once was all said and done it was just the two of them.

Marlin finally got around to answering his question about why she was there personally, seeing as she was here just to have a good time, Kei nodded in agreement. After all he wasn't keen on jazz but a social event was a social event. After telling him that she was there to have a good time, she followed up with a question as to his interest in jazz.

「I myself am just here to be here, not super keen on jazz myself. This event was just an excuse for me to get out of my house and stretch my legs.」

As he was talking he heard a new set playing, this time with some vocals. he looked towards the source of the voice and saw someone familiar on the stage. It was even to the point that Marlin also made a remark about the guy being someone that she recognized from the Starboard. Upon hearing that Kei nodded in agreement, he definitely recognized the guy from the other night, while he may have not exchanged any words with him, he was still in a sense an acquaintance.

As Kei was going to open his mouth to strike a conversation with Marlin a very arrogant sounding voice broken the calm atmosphere of the venue. Shuddering at the sound of it, Kei turned his head towards the source once more and gazed upon a trio. They were an interesting trio. Their outfits were unique to say the least. Kei honestly felt that the outfits were tacky and unappealing, despite that the three didn't seem to care, they seemed to be proud about wearing what they were. Kei groaned audibly.

「what the hell is going on?」

Again as he went to strike up a conversation with Marlin a second voice, an extremely narcissistic sounding voice interrupted him. It was rinse and repeat but this time the person speaking was even tackier than the other two. They seemed full of them self, it was quiet a spectacle hearing them talk about how they were the greatest people out of all the people within the venue, how their riches made this city what it is today.

Shaking his head in denial he scoffed lightly and looked away from the trio as looking at them any longer would give Kei second hand embarrassment. He could not fathom as to how the three could be so brazen. It was obvious they were spoiled since they were babies and did not know a single bit of shame or have a proper moral upbringing. After all they were talking about how rich they were. It was annoying and uncalled for.

Closing his eyes he sighed loudly, he was kind of annoyed he never expected to be exposed to such people. In the middle of his second hand embarrassment Marlin made some remarks that he very much so agreed with.

「How I feel the same. So shameless and tactless. How can they just feel that it is ok to do that? Spoiled little children that don't have any self control.」

Kei was more than likely younger than them but he just felt that spoiled little children was the best way to describe the three. They were just an eye and ear sore at this point. It was a quick way for the overall good vibes and amazing atmosphere to be ruined.

@Monacho@PrinceAlexus@Rabidporcupine@aladdin_sane@Voltus_Ventus@Furiosa

Swan Songs . Monday Evening

---

Marinalia saw Kei cringe in response to the perfect posee or what ever these called themselves, maybe the Terrible trio or triplicate of toddlers. That did have a certain ring about it.

About to make conversation with him about the evening then suddenly there interruption, Tacky as it got, all thr money yet they seemed to dress like a bunch of clowns. A perfectly tailored suit would be far more hot.

"seems the fashion most wanted showed up."

Sure it was bitchy but hey, they earned it right.

"meh, igbore em. I'm sure they get bored like children do.

And well. OK. This is embarrassing. Ren seemed like two people... You think I'm silly and about to find out he played me the entire time?

Oh. If they come over. Back me up... I'm engaged.

Gesturing to a pale blue gem on a not engagement finger. Inherited from her grandmother it was cut from the same larger stone as Victoria's. Thr pair had been passed on to them and was a nice symbolism however small.

---

Victoria seemed more shake as thr booze hit her and accidentally knocked her small bag over spilling out a I phone and a few other minor cosmetics from a mix of brands from cheap to the odd designer item. Along with it came a few business cards left over from a few weeks ago, blue clear plastic like ice, with "Lady de Winter websites, coding, websites and apps", a business email "vikadr@ldww.co.uk" and a straight to answerphone number listed with a Web address heading to a simple but nicely designed website listing a few medium sized jobs and several references to the three musketeers.

Grabbing her things back a few of thr cards she forgot as they fell down a gap and Victoria had a 100 or so left in another box, she could ignore them.

Laughing slightly. And then noticed Olin seemed intresting, maybe there more hidden under the enigma of the suit.

"guess the booze got to me after all!, so. Hey, what brings you to this rather ruined evening?

Its a social event. Someone might as well make the awkward first hello."

Smiling slightly awkwardly, sure thr alcohol was helping but she thought it would be fun to try and get to know some people. Never got to know anyone without trying.

Then in corner of her eye she saw a new guy, taller, beard. Kinda looked like one of the men out of some historical tv show abit with that beard. Looked abit like a viking not that was always a bad thing.

With a confidence, mostly alcohol and a abit of oh hell with it thught in back of mind sneaking out thanks to the whiskey she waved over cheerfully. A rather clipped but softer English accent.

"welcome. I promise the atmosphere was alot better a few minutes ago."

He seemed about as apcepting of the new trio as most of the patrons, sure they would be less brazen without the small private army of body guards and hangers on following there trashy and overly expensive coat tales.

---

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RabidPorcupine@PrinceAlexus@RoccanIronclad

Ren was walking back to where Marlin and Kei was seated, both his and her drink in hand, when he stopped dead in his tracks as the stage was hijacked by three guys.

“You dirty fuckin’ mutt. We three humble wisemen…we three great kings…"

The fat guy's boisterous voice echoed loudly through the room. Ren stared at the stage in disbelief. Is this a practical joke? After a few minutes of trying his best to ignore the ridiculous monologue pouring out of the guys mouth, he walked closer up to the stage. If looks could kill, there'd be blood pouring from the stage right about now. A slender, blonde man grabbed the mic. His voice was slightly familiar, but Ren was sure he'd remember someone as flamboyant as that.


Anger boiled in Ren's stomach. The tone and arrogance reminded him of his father. He hated the nerve of the men on stage. Without thinking, Ren walked right up to the stage and threw both of his drinks in the face of the blonde man.

"Shut your trap and get the fuck out of here. You're a joke." Ren stared the man dead in the eye, not moving an inch.

---

@Aladdin_Sane@PrinceAlexus@Robo27

---

Okay, this was getting ridiculous know. Thirty-five minutes had passed and her coworker still hadn't arrived. The music wasn't doing enough to calm her nerves, and at this point Aya was thinking of just calling it a night and leaving in a strop. But perhaps she should give her friend the benefit of the doubt; Aya didn't live far, having to only take a short bus ride to get to Swan Songs, but she recalled her friend saying she would use her car to get here. Sol City was quite the chaotic place during the night hours, and the traffic jams on the main roads were no different. Even though it was a Monday evening, the roads and streets remained as loud and crowded as ever.

From the corner of her small brown eyes, Aya saw someone wave to her. She raised her eyebrow at the woman, now confused and frantically trying to remember if she was an acquaintance of some sort. Aya raised her hand a little and gave a hesitant wave, eyebrow still arched.

A new singer had made their way onto the stage, and just as they started to perform, the waving woman started to speak to her. Aya gasped a little; it had been quite a while since someone had been so forward interacting with her.

"Hey. You wanna join us by the bar miss? Your date's loss I'm sure."

Aya's cheeks went a little red, either because of the heat in the building from all the people that had gathered tonight or this woman's bold words. She was inclined to think that it was both. The last time she had been on a proper date was in her last year of high school, and just thinking about how things went down with that one girl made her want to fling herself into a twenty foot hole in the ground.

“I, uh...”

But regardless, Aya was still waiting for someone. Perhaps it would be ruder to join another group of people for the night instead of just leaving the place for more understandable reasons.

But then again, she had been waiting for a full hour and a bit now, and it didn't seem like her friend was arriving anytime soon. Aya wasn't much of a drinker at all though — the most she'd had drunk in one night was half a bottle of sake at a run down Japanese restaurant on her twentieth birthday — and the last time she had gone out with friends to drink was about, eight months ago. Aya thought to herself that she really needed to get out a lot more, she was twenty-one years old and she was stuttering over someone's offer to participate in some friendly drinking like some peer pressured pre teen.

Just as she was about to give the lady a response, the song finished, abruptly followed by a rather aggressive announcement from the venue's owner. The commotion that unfolded before Aya's eyes seemed so... sudden. And confusing. Very confusing. Unnecessarily expensive clothes, three arrogant snobs on stage, and why were there a bunch of body guards filing into the shop? She was listening to some sweet jazz music just a moment ago, how on earth had things managed to turn out like this? She looked up from her table, face twisting in confusion and total disgust. Waiting a long and agonising hour for a friend to arrive was bad enough, Aya didn't need a bunch of egotistical maniacs ruining the rest of her evening.

In that moment, her phone started buzz in her handbag. Aya swiftly picked it up and looked at the screen. She let out a tired groan, and answered it.

“And where in the fuck are you?”

Milo looked over to the voice calling out in his direction, a small, pale, stick of a girl, waving at him from the bar. Milo looked back at the stage a moment to see a person throwing a drink at the men on stage, what a waste of a drink, Milo made his way to the bar where the girl was seated, he looked to the bartender and and held up a finger.

"Let me get something tall an' dark, not to picky."

When the dark glass of beer arrived he took a sip and looked to the girl that had welcomed him.

"I'm not a huge fan of stand up comedy, but the Sinatra they had up there gave me some hope for the evening, hopefully tweedle dee and tweedle dum won't delay this much longer.

Milo gave a small smile now imagining the fat man on stage dressed up in oddly less flamboyant clothing as a bad tweedle dee cosplay. He held out his hand, large and rough from his years in the forge and in the rings.

"Names Milo by the way, Milo Ventri. I just moved in down by the waterfront.

@Princealexus

Bob stood as far away from the trio as he possibly could without it looking obvious; it was a small stage crafted for intimate performances, so it was a difficult task to say the least. However, even if the stage was the size of a football field he felt like would still stand out like a sore thumb amongst the uh… certainly unique fashions on display this evening; it was all too clear that he was the Zeppo Marx of this proverbial comedy act. The former barista liked to think he dressed a little above his current station in life as his tailored suit and Rolex demonstrated, but his current company was never ones to hold themselves to any sort of restraint. Well the group did reign themselves in slightly after Mexico, but that sticky situation was something that only handful people had the complete context to understand; what occurred over eight days last August in a flop house in Cabo was known only to himself, the Perfect Posse, a few trusted individuals, oh and how could he forget one genetically modified Pan troglodyte called Kiran. He swore that Khorshid’s stupid designer chimpanzee had it in for him. It took tremendous effort to grease the tremendous number of palms to make those days disappear, but if the conspiracy ever unraveled no amount of money could save those involved from the ramifications. Bob sometimes wondered why he suffered the daily humiliation in the company of Khorshid Dana Charmchi the man-child who for all intents and purposes ruined his life, but during periods of rare self-introspection such as this he would transcend the façade of self-pity and come face to face with his true self and the person he saw made him shudder. He leaned against the wall as from the slinging of insults it seemed the crowd was not enjoying tonight’s special guest stars. He couldn’t help flashing a smile at the thought of other’s misfortunes. Unadulterated Schadenfreude. He bit down on his bottom lip as despite the outcome the only winner tonight would be him.

A hostile audience is seen by most as a social deterrent to bad behavior, but the Perfect Posse are not most people. The guards who before were just intimidating the patrons for their own personal kicks before were now much more serious; there was an unspoken tension in the air. The large majority of the guests were attempting to leave not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, though some were defiant and hurled insults of their own at the trio and their sycophants. The entertainment press seemed equally split between supporting the trio or mocking them. There were a few scuffles between members from the diametrically opposed sides, but for the time being those were isolated incidents. Those not leaving focused their attention towards the stage waiting perhaps for a cue. There was no one trying to diffuse the situation and the City’s police force was AWOL for the time being.

Lupe scans the crowd looking for the loudmouthed lowlife who dared call him out like that. Fixing his gaze upon Joseph he pushes his Cazal sunglasses down to the tip of his nose and raises a singular eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare speak that dictator’s name in my presence you fuckin’ garbage munching roach. Normally I wouldn’t even spare words for charity cases such as yourself, but since I am feeling generous I’ll serve up an extra helping of verbal whoop-ass just for you Raggdy Andy. I’d ought to physically beat you down for showing me such disrespect and I hate to disappoint boy, but from the shape of you it seems fate already did that for me. Also, I hate to ruin the only pair of clothes you own as at looks like you left your knapsack on the boxcar you jumped out of. #HOBO-CHIC I really should call the dog catcher though because you look like one flea bitten mutt and who knows the accommodations at the pound might at be an upgrade for ya. #HARDBARKLIFE Where you heading? Making sure you didn’t double park your box out front playboy? Speakin’ of which why’d you come here? I know this record joint is a shithole, but you well know that even this place doesn’t accept food stamps playa. When the so-called bartender asks if you are paying with cash or a card they isn’t talking about your EBT card. You should start calling yourself Oliver Twist because you look like the type of freeloader who always saying ‘please sir, may I have some more.’ You can hate on the weight, but this big dawg attracts all the fine bitches; all your whitewashed Starvin Marvin meets Pigpen lookin' ass can attract are the flys. I can’t wait to see you on bumfights superstar as you certainly could be a contender. Youse are the Fisher King little homeless man cause all you sputter is complete nonsense.”

He lets out a hearty laugh because yes Lupe is the kind of person who would laugh at his own jokes. To pontificate his point Lupe then pinches one his female escorts’ butt causing her to jump in shock. Taking the golden chalice out of her now quivering hands and he takes a large gulp of Lean. He teeters after ingesting the vile mixture of cough syrup and Sprite, but regains his footing looking relatively stable for the time being.

Sasha was impressed that tub of lard was on point for once, but knew the only reason his cohort wasn’t having security pulverize the insolent whelp to a bloody pulp was because of the ankle monitoring bracelet; Sasha was amazed that they made those devices in that size. Only in America he mused. The petite Russian was ready to go tit for tat and crush the unfashionable bug underneath his stylish bootheel when he noticed someone swiftly approaching. Hmm….wasn’t that the cute guy from last night. Totally was. Probably here to profess his undying love for him. How revol… Sasha swooned internally. Dropping the high-strung veneer briefly he let his heart flutter. How romantic. To sweep him off his feet in public was so risqué. The swagger in the handsome stranger’s step showed a yet unseen confidence. A man who took what he wanted was desirable to say the least. His body was ready…well ready for anything, but having drinks thrown in his face. Time slowed to a crawl and the sound faded out. He should knew be mad as his outfit was ruined, but there was a clear symbolic connotation behind what just happened, and Sasha knew how to read between the lines; needless to say he enjoyed what he was reading.

Snapping back to reality Sasha unexpectedly lunged off the stage at Ren not even registering what the man said after launching the drinks. Considering the tone of the encounter this was probably not what was expected and Sasha despite his small size managed to topple the target of his affections. It was a miracle he did not kill or severely injure them both. Using his agility, he pulled himself on top of his crush pinning Ren underneath his body.

Leaning in close so only the two of them could hear he softly said, “We really do need to stop running into each other this way darling.” before gently planting a kiss on Ren’s lips.

“Kick his ass Sash” slurred Lupe peering over the stage trying to see what was occurring to no avail.

Khorshid tangentially aware of occurring events around him motioned for a microphone. He giggled in child-like wonder as he tapped on the microphone brought to him and sound reverberated around the enclosed space.

“First of all as most know I am a lover not a fighter. I just really want to dispel some of the nastiness and ugliness that has permeated our short time here. I must say feel hurt and betrayed by the owner of this establishment having lured us good people here under false pretenses. I had it on good authority that none of the recipients of the charitable donations would be here tonight, but then tell me why are so many cripples here then? Look around the room and you’ll see them. Did stupid-pants not know that I am a highly emotional person? As the best friend of a chimpanzee who’s a victim of discrimination in the very city due to their draconian local ordinances regarding exotic pets, their struggle touches me on a personal level meaning I too often think about how terrible it would be if I was disabled. Like that would stink. Be quite the bummer.” Khorshid was legitimately tearing up by the end of his spiel and Bob brought him a handkerchief.

"Thanks Bob, you understand me."

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus

Ren's anger was clouding his vision. Arrogant son of a... The blonde man was looking a bit shocked, seemingly caught of guard. Liquid dripped down his pale face. But Ren was unable to dwell on his actions for long. It seemed that karma had a wicked sense of humor and was quick to repay her debt. Before he had time to register what was happening - it was his turn to be caught of guard. There was the a loud thud, and then he was pushed to the floor. He heard a low voice in his ear.

“We really do need to stop running into each other this way darling.” They were laying sprawled out on the floor, Ren's back was aching. His heart pounding from the adrenaline kicking in.

Before Ren could question where they had met before, his lips was connected to the other man's. The sudden warmth was not unpleasant, and a soft noise escaped his lips as they parted. What the... Ren's brain finally caught up to what was happening, and he was beginning to panic. "Get off me, you-" Ren was at a loss for words. He tried to push the man off him and was only half successful. His body was still under the influence of alcohol and pills alike, and his movements were getting more and more sloppy. Ren's mind was racing, and then he got a flashback to the Old Starboard last night. The guy from the bathroom...? No, it can't be the same person...

"You must be mistaking me for somebody else. I've never seen you before in my life."

---

@Aladdin_Sane

---

Olin could only think of all the other times she'd heard variations of that phrase. There were few nights in between when she went without it, often when she wasn't looking for something, or someone. Normally she'd give a small chuckle, before rendering out a charmed, 'You think it's that easy?' but it wasn't that night. She had absolutely no problems with doing the same, regardless if the woman bought her a drink or not. Many did. And the same 'many' got no special treatment, and kicked out of her apartment if they'd even been lucky the next morning. But she felt like doing something different for once. Plus, if Snow White could actually piece together memories the next morning, in between the hangover blur, surely she wouldn't remember her... Right?

"I think of Sol as a ruined event," She smirked a bit, before putting her full gaze on the woman. It seemed odd to explain such circumstances without a drink in her hand or distance in her skull. Sobriety was a pain. Though, how the night was going, she was glad she wasn't off anything. Due to the Wonderous Trio she probably would've had a rather unpleasant trip. "But, if I'm being honest... I was hoping to meet a few new people. Primarily, someone fun."

A hundred meanings could've easily attached themselves to her last words. She didn't allow Snow White the opportunity to pick one, "You know, the usual. Games someone like you probably wouldn't want to get involved in."

She made sure to look down at the few business cards scattered at her feet. Not to mention, 'Lady de Winter' herself appeared relatively porcelain to everything around her. Someone like her, without a doubt, had probably never engaged in even half of the behaviors Olin had. That was just how life worked. Yet those seemed to be the most adventurous, not the underground-souls. Maybe once you drifted throughout every greasy tunnel, there was no other options than to scale back, to find yourself out of the sewer pipes and hidden corridors. That was just how life worked. The Swede knew, better than anyone, that at sometime her life of pursuits would end, and then her last step would be towards the Heart of Suburbia. At that point she'd be about ready to gauge her fucking eyes out.

Luckily, she was still young. Brighter hope and brighter futures.

The English woman spoke again, inviting another strange face over. Once again her attention went elsewhere. A man, that reminded her the slightest of her Father, bounded towards them. She couldn't help but to remember how hurt she felt, as a child, when learning that no matter how big you got the Earth wouldn't shake from your footsteps. The pain of that betrayal seemingly became fresh in her memory, as she tried her best to bury it. She frowned the slightest before turning back around.

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RoccanIronclad@PrinceAlexus

Joseph looked up from his position on the floor to see the pale woman from before. Apparently she thought his last few terrible decisions were intentional, and thought it was good enough to have earned him a drink on her. Well, in all honesty, he would've had to be an idiot to refuse, although he'd have to see if he could have the drink replaced with food. After all, drinking on five days of empty stomach was probably a bad idea...

Before he could ask, however, Fidel finally managed to pinpoint him in the crowd, and proceed to spurt out an unsurprisingly poorly put together tirade, mostly targeting his choice of apparel, or more appropriately, his lack of choice.

And his eye twitched slightly.

Not because of the insults, mind you. He was more than used to those.

No, it was because of the fact that he put no effort into the flow of the insults. It was a jarring mess, each one crashing into the next with no decent transition.

And then he turned to the girl who'd offered him a drink, a small, tired smile on his face.

"You know, this is almost definitely going to end up being a terrible idea, what with the fact that I haven't eaten in five days, but I can tell this is gonna be too painful to get through when I'm sober, and I'm gonna need something strong to get me past that.

As he spoke, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Lupe, who was telling someone to 'kick his ass'.

"If they have Absinthe or Everclear, one of those." He said. "If not, well, dealers choice, I guess."

And then he turned back to Lupe, an almost menacing smirk on his face. Of course, he was actually trying to wear a calm smile, and he was just screwing it up due to lack of proper interaction for the last... however long.

"Alright Fatel, I can see that I'm going to need to teach you a proper appreciation of the English language, and how to speak like an adult instead of a toddler." He said, although his tone clearly made it known how much of a hassle this was going to be for him. "Alright, so my main problem is the flow, in that there wasn't any. You really need to find a good transition between each insult if you're going to let so many escape your mouth, especially since its probably the only thing you'd let escape,looking at the size of you. As I mentioned, its best to think of it as a flow. Imagine that the conversation is a river, and the insults are ripples in the water. I'm sure you'd know what ripples are from whenever you accidentally knock your stomach into something, so it shouldn't be too hard to imagine, even for someone who, given the chance, would probably try to eat their brain rather than use it."

He sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs and trying to get comfortable now that he'd given up on escaping.

"Now, on to the next gripe I have with you, your massive lack of variety." He said, crossing his hands over his face into the classic Gendo pose. "Now, I'm aware you probably don't have a lot of targets, considering the fact that I'm clearly smarter than you, but still, its honestly quite disappointing. All your 'insults', regardless of the fact that I didn't even find them that insulting, were aimed at the fact that I look homeless. Meanwhile, I get to take shots at the fact that you look like Fidel Castro, you can't sunbathe without people trying to roll you back into the ocean because they think you're a beached whale, and the utter lack of effort you put into making your insults listener friendly, which in all honesty, should be your first goal when you start trying to belittle someone in public. Well, actually, I suppose I should be fair, its an ugly Fidel Castro at best. Still, I don't know what I should have expected, considering the way you've not only ruined your own reputation, but that of your father too. And yes, I do know who you are, Pissgate. It just took a little while to recognise you, because I lost my food tickets walking here from Texas, and I'm a little dizzy."

He tilted his head up in thought, before standing up and nodding.

"Alright, so in conclusion, maybe instead of getting your security guards to beat people up so you can take the credit and pretend you have literally any talent at anything, you should spend some more time learning how to make yourself sound less like a pig genetically engineered to have the most pathetic, grating personality in the entire USA. I mean, you probably don't have a whole lot of time, considering you have diabetes, drugs, and capitalist American operatives all fighting over who gets to out you in the ground first, but still, try not to give up. Maybe you could even become somewhat tolerable, although I really, really doubt it."

And then he began to walk over to the bar. However, he stopped for a second, and turned back to face Lupe.

"Oh, and by the way, it looks like your blonde friend must make a point on being well-dressed. So while I'm gonna be busy not making myself look pathetic in front of the crowds, tell him that he's dressed like an idiot for me, would you? And yes," he said, gesturing to his own worn out clothes, "that is coming from me."

And then he completed his journey to the bar, where the pale girl was sitting with a larger group of people than before.

"And the best part," he said, taking a seat to join the small group, "is that if I were to ever actually approach my grandparents instead of keep running from them, I'm pretty sure I'd be richer than him."

He looked to the pale girl, as the nervousness and fear his hunger had helped to bury for a moment began to force its way back out.

"Anyway, its nice to meet you, I'm Joseph Moore. Is that Absinthe nearly here, because I think I'm gonna need it..."

@Monacho@aladdin_sane@PrinceAlexus@Furiosa@RoccanIronclad@Jay Kalton

His attention was captured momentarily by the lady who waved, and he in turn smiled and nodded his head in her direction before casting his glance in another direction. The hot spotlight blazed on Max's skin, and his forehead glistened with effortful perspiration. At whatever moment during the song, he had taken his jacket off, slinging it over his shoulder as he let the instrumentals take over in the lead up to the end. At the back of the venue he noticed, only barely, the presence of large men filtering in, looking to be of an unsavory stock. His smile faltered, his eyes unable to detract from them as a pair moved through the crowd towards the stage. Max continued to sing admirably, but his face slowly moved from simply watching to sidelong confusion.

As the song reached its final crescendo, the burly pair moved up the steps of the stage without warning, causing applause to wane and the crowd to hiss and jeer. One of the bald men rolled his eyes and nodded his head backwards, gesturing for Max to get off the stage, they were only about a yard apart. Max looked the thug hard in the eyes, not moving, glaring like the headlights of an oncoming car. He gripped the microphone harder.

"Come on, Elvis. Off the stage now." The tone of the man dripped condescension. With a subtle motion, Max switched the microphone off, the speakers making a pop and then falling silent. The tromboneist sensed the tension from behind Max and began to speak, trying to get Max to disengage.

"Max, come on, let's g-" Max raised a hand to silence his band mate, but kept his eyes locked on the thug.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" The man at that point seemed to have little patience left and gave Max a firm shove, causing him to stumble back a little and drop his jacket.

"Just get off, shit for brains." Max glowered at the man and stepped forwards, dodging the grasp of the Tromboneist. He shoved his hand into the Thug's gut, fingers balled up around the microphone.

"Don't forget this." He hissed, letting go of it and causing the man to fumble for it. Max had half the state of mind to hit the unwelcomed thug, but instead he went down the steps, followed by the band. The whole interaction only lasted a few seconds. However those few seconds were enough to get him riled. He descended the steps, followed by the band, leaving his jacket behind on the stage unknowingly.

Max marched through the crowd, straight to the bar, almost man handling himself into a stool and gesturing the bartender over. "double scotch, rocks." He stuffed his fist into his pocket and roughly placed a collection of crumpled notes on the counter, "However much this gets." In the background the 'perfect posse's' head man droned on, Max guessed that he was the one that demanded him off the stage before he could finish his set.

As Sasha spoke Max considered throwing his glass at him, but momma didn't raise no fool. He stayed put as he exchanged his glass for fresh ice and a top up. Max tried to ignore the voice of the crazy Russian but instead it only put him off more. Standing up suddenly, well before Sasha had jumped on Ren, he took his leave and stepped out into the cold evening air.

The pilot reached into his pocket, only to find that it wasn't there, he realized rather abruptly that his jacket, and in consequences his cigars were lying on the stage. Not in the mood to return to the establishment until everyone had left, Max went for his car parked across the road and unlocked it with the key from his trouser pockets. Sitting on the Driver's seat, facing out to the Swan's Song with his feet planted on the road, Max put a half used cigar into his mouth and lit it up, grumbling under his voice.

Swan Songs . Monday Evening

---

Marinalia watched Suprised as Rens anger boiled over walking up and throwing the drinka on the bone man. Thr arrogance of thr man was so large he could of been a black hole and pulled in entire planets.

Then things began to take a darker turn as the man was massively offensive, his tirade began to turn worse and worse a seemed essential string of vulgar and crass insults one after another. Hearing shouts back behind her too. Piss gate, Fidel, this evening had entirely gone to shit thanks to these over grown children.

Next then Ren was attacked, thr one Sasha or whatever it was was on him, kissing him. It was so stomach turning she instantly forgot about the blithering idiot who made up the final stooge.

But what could she do.. She wanted to stop the attack. Mush as he was a new come. She had taken to him. He was taller. Likely stronger, and a total phycopathic.

Max stormed off, she felt bad for him, his talented set so ruined. She, D have to drive over to where ever that strip was on her day off maybe. Or least drop him a voice mail.

"Ren, no.".

To the vipers nest, she was hardly the coward but it took every ounce of her determination to push past the security like she was meant to be on the stage, the three stooges loved control. And she would break it. It was a huge risk. Piss gate would not assault a woman on stage in front of a whole room. Sirely.

Grabbing the mic off the idiotic Indian, he was a foppish fool if there ever was one. She was pretending to be there. A act she hoped would hold long ernough..

Much as she tried to ignore them she had kept up to date of family and there goings on. It was time she had spent looking was coming in handy.

Starting with a slight stutter but taking her stride later on..

welcome to Swan Songs. It seems our pre planned evening has been somewhat interrupted of late.

Unlike our gentlemen of sin, vulgarity and nuvo riche fashions.

Marilania, Romus Olympus, my grandfather and Ceo of Olympus heavy Industries had a announcement for the finest city on the eastern coast Sol City.

Sponsoring two of Sol Cities finest Sons, Joel Nicolasi, and Tommy's Lormax!

Olympus industries in partnership with Plar Star shipping is honoured to support there soon to be winning race car of the Sol City Grand Prix!

Now it seems I might lose the mic soon, so a cheer to Sol City, the greatest race of the Formula one North America stage! "

She had stole the limelight or tried. They needed air I'm there sails, without it they where nothing. She might get hurt but if it saved Ren and ruined there evenibg it was a worthy cause. Her clipped and cool English accent held, a perfect show. Part of her hated it, to use there name and more. But to protect someone else was worth it.

She saw her sister looking worried but held her composure knowing she might face a tirade from Jabba.

---

Victoria was relaxed, somewhat drunk and slightly frustrated. She had struggled to find anyone to see her as more than just a pale crippled girl who health was still internist at times. Why she had started "Lady De Winter". She could work to jobs she wanted. When she was capable.

She had been in a busy spot. Ans attracted a few strangers. The small and deathly pale hand shook the far larger man's, rough, powerful and obviouly a man of strong work.

Victoria, Darya Romus. A new comer to Sol myself.

Aye. I feel bad for him. A talented set ruined by such Vulgarity. Gah, they would not last 5 minutes with the people I grew up having to meet.

So. Too far to say your a master of a trade by thr feel of those hardened and strong hands.?

She was maybe pushing too far but tn e drink was starting effect the slim woman, then her head t almost skipped a beat watching her sister step up. Taking thr perfect possee on In a move that no doubt there father would have been extremely proud of.

The tall Japanese woman seemed to hesitate then answer her phone, a start of a small argument. No doubt her date. Freindly was very very late?. Hmm maybe talk to her later?

It seemed rude to intervene so she turned to the smaller woman she was talking to earlier and seemed to judge her somewhat triggering a old but constant bug bear. Just because her size, her nature, she was woman with own small business and reputation, and achievements beyond her skin.

Her comments seemed to cut deeper than they should even if not meant to, Gah, was it more pity. Years later she was still recovering, and maybe never would. Gah. Something in her drug k on whiskey snuck out.

the shows and concerts of London got better acts than this trio of troglodytes for sure.

Oh.. Honey this is very much not for fashion. I'd much rather be normal...

... Thanks I'm some little China doll arn, t I.. Like every damned person. Gah,. Sure. Thanks for making my evening.

Guess this is why I don't n, t drink whiskey. It brings out the winter.

Knocking back the last of the shot she felt bad at venting, but also she seemed to have to be honest. The three musketeers, lady de winter, it certainly held more meaning than surge deep.

sorry.. That was probably uncalled for. Whiskey is not my best drink

Sighing, she had been brought up in a world of respect, where her fathers word and name was everything in his business and politeness ruled the day even when hatreds ran deep. Money was money. A bad reputation, a false word meant you never worked again. That had rubbed off even dispute his 6 months a year away time at sea playing the lanes from Africa, to ports across the globe and back again..

Then she saw the one who had such a sharp tongue, confidence dispute there bad position in life. She could not but respect him for it as he Sat down.

what the gentleman asked for. Please.

Her bad mood was tempered and she tried to soften her emotions and accent.

if true. It seems looks can be quite inaccurate... Why I'm polite. You never know if your talking to a secretey or a ceo some times.

I'd wish you luck, it seems el presidente and his goons are less than savory.

Wary to people about she was trying to not be overhered by thr thugs and there masters.

Seeing max leave, it definitely felt bad, the man had such talent to be over ridden by such thugs and such men. It was not right. A wrong she had no power to right. Or maybe. Marinalia was over playing her hand somewhat but no lie. The event was coming. Maybe he would apcept a invitation as the Romus sisters apology for such crass thugs.

---

@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RabidPorcupine@PrinceAlexus@RoccanIronclad

Joel had remained sitting on the bench across the street as the helicopter descended and then settled on its gear. To his surprise the pilot had actually cut the engines and parked as if it were a car. The big chopper blocked traffic in both directions and its apparent handlers were making sure no one got close to it or the frantic throng that exited from the side facing the record store. Joel couldn’t see any of it other than the paparazzi crowds the overflowed past the nose and tail sections. He took out his phone once more and thumbed the tail number into a search engine. Vencorp International the result shot back even with a few photos of the very machine. He knew of the company and his brow furrowed slightly. Kind of an odd place to be landing the company chopper. He thought. Then again maybe they really liked jazz at Vencorp.

His merry train of thought was interrupted again however as someone inside seemed to have quickly drawn the ire of the assembly. Booing, hissing and few colorful shouts were audible even from where he was sitting. The person on the microphone seemed to be arguing back and forth with the unruly mass. Joel could only see a little past the nose, but the pilot seemed to be getting nervous and began waving his hands at one of the coat and tie security detail. The voice on the microphone changed abruptly followed by a panicked uproar. Joel sat up slightly and looked around. The whole block was getting riled up. A man with no jacket stomped angrily across the way to the older SL Mercedes he’d noticed earlier. As much fun as it was witnessing the rich and affluent have their “jazz” night ruined, he was beginning to wonder if something legitimately serious was happening.

The voice on the microphone changed again. This time distinctly female. It was too muffled for him to understand against the background noise. For a moment he thought he heard his name before it happened...





@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@Monacho@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Jay Kalton@aladdin_sane@RabidPorcupine@PrinceAlexus@RoccanIronclad

Milo Ventri

Milo looked to the small girl he was talking with as she asked about his hands, he wasn't really sure how much about his past he was willing to divulge to a complete stranger, just a bit of information was fair though, she was quite kind.

"Well, I am a blacksmith, got a shop down on the waterfront, decorative items, and whatever else you need."

He smiled knowing that he wasn't completely lying to her but his main focus was making weapons for recreational and competitive buyers, though he is so much more. It was about this time that the stage was overtaken again this time by another small girl, from the look and sound he would be hard pressed not to think they may be related. He stayed and listened to the girl and her conversation, seemingly more entertaining at least, and he somewhat felt a strange kinship, she seemed as though she was frail, but the fight in her words spoke otherwise. Milo absentmindedly rubbed his left knee, the knee that had been destroyed in his accident, before cutting into her conversation a bit.

"Little china doll? There is nothing so fragile about people if they don't want it." He drank down the rest of his beer before finishing that statement, "But I suppose that's none of my business."

He smiled warmly under his neatly groomed beard, this girls vigor seemed to give him a bit fire himself. This fire was probably a good thing as the girl that went on stage and snatched the mic was getting some glares from glorious gasbag and his pals. Milo set his glass back up on the bar and thought to himself, Those men shoved that singer about, but if they start manhandling that girl, drinks won't be the only things put down today. Milo stood up from the bar, and made a gesture to the stage.

"I hope you don't mind if move on up a bit, want to get a bit closer to the stage." He wasn't hiding the fact he worried further altercations. "But if you ever find yourself needing some ironwork done, look me up."

With a slight limp as he stepped off, quickly correcting, he started for the stage but not before the alarms started to go off and sprinklers began to shower him with water.

@PrinceAlexus