"You'll die, if you go in there," came a young, somewhat tensed voice, Nico's unnatural eyes remaining fixed at the point of interest, without a moment's pause. It was clear that the pop star found himself in a less comfortable position, a gulp traveling down his slender, porcelain throat. Indeed, one would be forgiven when mistaking this creature for a doll, neatly cared for and presented upon a dusted shelf. Such was the nature of Nico Devina, a mutant known throughout the world for his long-spanning music career. He quite enjoyed the prospect, a statement the time-frozen boy had made clear on interviews, where he leaned against his porcelain appearance and adopted the persona on stage several times. He had, since a time back, learned to embrace his inhuman appearance, finding the attention endearing, rather than apprehensive. Perhaps an ironic twist, then, that ball jointed dolls had been made in Nico's image, one of which he had at home. The given name was obvious. Mini-Me. Granted, it was not Nico who procured the display, but rather his close friend and bodyguard.

"Don't worry fam', I've got this," a dark, gruff voice returned, a clear contrast to the melodic state of Nico's tongue. There was a clear tension in the air, only pierced by the occasional sip of a soda bottle, as the large, flat screen television on the wall warranted the roommates' attention and undisturbed focus.

"Dude, you have two bullets left," the doll-like boy commented as he turned to his friend. Chocolate colored skin, clearly visible muscles and a tight, skin fitting tank top drew the man a complete opposite to the minuscule, pale mutant he was tasked to protect. Of course, this arrangement was merely what the public knew as the full performance. If one was to delve deeper into the truth of their relationship, one would note that George, Nico's bodyguard, had put his militaristic knowledge of weapons manufacturing into good use. He was a weapons engineer in the army, something which had not been hidden as a secret. The mysteries began where Nico's life as a now retired vigilante found itself beneath the spotlight.

"You know two bullets is all I need," George smirked, leaning back against the large sofa where Nico had fallen asleep more often than the boy would like to admit. With three large dogs sitting amongst them, it was difficult not to indulge in their warm fur.

"Two bullets isn't all Leon needs," Nico motioned towards the screen at the remake of Resident Evil 2 George was playing.

"Son, you've gotta' have faith," the dark man offered before shifting into Leon's inventory and produced a grenade, throwing it into the zombie infested room. "See?"

"Son?" Nico grinned, his slender fingers tracing their way through Lucifer's fur. There was a joke in that, one the pale figure had often brought to the forefront. Lucifur. "I'm like, old."

"Nah, kid, you've just been sixteen longer than most." A large hand came to flick Nico's side. He wasn't wrong, of course. Despite the mutant's age, Nico never displayed a behavior akin to an older male. It was safe to say that his mental wiring had been somewhat affected by the boy's inability to age.

"Ugh, fine," the popstar leaned against his three dogs, each one challenging him in size. "We need to leave in two hours." It was fair to give credit where credit was due. Nico had performed at charity events more than once and doing it out in the park made the show accessible to everyone, while raising money to the cause at hand. This specific event was designed to raise money for the homeless, an issue even the spectacular Azure City wasn't above.

"You think this will help more people than chopping bad guys into hamburgers?" Though phrased in a peculiar manner, Nico saw the purpose behind George's statement.

With a short pause sealing the boy's lips, Nico eventually offered a response. "No," he said, "but it's something. I know you want to start the crusade again."

"I did make you a new blade," the larger man stated casually, Nico's attention perking like a meerkat. Though the boy had left his days of punishing the wicked behind, there were times where he wished for nothing else than to wield his blades to sever the limbs of villainy. He had done so six years ago, the name Rayne conjuring fear in the ears of those who would do wrong. Every impacting moment he found himself in was left a horrific scene of blood sinew and bone. A statement Nico was happy to make. A monster for the monsters themselves.

"Stop tempting me," the porcelain-skinned mutant waved his hand, "I'm all about singing, now. And soda." Nico pointed at his picture on the plastic bottle held between the boy's scrawny fingers. Initially, he hated the idea of having his face on a brand of beverage, but once he grew positively addicted to it, he couldn't complain.

"Isn't that creepy? And kind of vain?" George laughed, shaking his head as a hand lowered itself to Belial's back, muscular fingers combing across the dog's fur.

"You're just jealous that your mugshot doesn't taste like carbonated strawberry," Nico winked, the boy teasingly shaking the drink in front of his friend before taking another sip. It was fair to say that the two had a professional working relationship, and it was no lie that George acted as a full-time bodyguard for the pop star. However, one would be more accurate when considering the bachelors a pair of roommates, for that was what they ultimately were.

"Alright, princess." The dark male rose to his feet with a stretch. "Why don't you finish that Nico juice of yours on the way and I can show you what I've been working on." Having a workshop presentation in one's home was not a major oddity, but the secret room in Nico's apartment was not what one would consider a legal addition.

"Why do you tease me so? T'is it thine desire to see blood soak the streets once more?" Came a theatrical display from the once anti-hero, as Nico lowered his small feet to the floor, each dog loyally following their master where he stood.

"Just have a look and if you really don't want to disembowel some bad boys afterward, we'll keep soothing America's ears with your fruity ass voice," George finished, reaching for a button which exposed the secret doorway into his workshop.

At the festival grounds, nestled comfortably off the concrete next to a couple trees, Nari's booth looked impressive given it being made of intertwined woody vines that had flowers of various types blooming colorfully along the whole thing. An upper canopy of thick leaves kept the booth and the few seats for drink testing comfortably shaded. Nari herself was buzzing around inside, busy setting up her various products of flowers, herbs, spices, fruits, vegetables, and various alcohols. She had a stick of what appeared to be a granola bar in her mouth, seemingly forgotten about in the hustle and bustle of prepping for the festival.

One of the representatives from the city stopped by to check on her and make sure she was following regulations. "Miss Sol, may I inspect your booth?" Her response came out garbled and muffled by the forgotten bar. "Mmph mmm." She blinked and then popped the bar out before speaking again. "Sorry, no idea how long ago I put that bar in. You may." The representative did a thorough look at her booth, but it was over almost as soon as it started as she kept everything strictly within regulations. "You are perfectly within regs. Have a good day, Miss." She stopped him before going and gave him a free bowl full of strawberries, to which he just smiled and walked away. She couldn't help but get him some food given how long it would be before he got to eat.

Her preparations took about a half hour after inspection, after which she sat down and munched on the homemade granola bar. "Let's see who stops by this year. I'm sure I will get some regulars since they get a free glass of booze and some fruits. Maybe someone interesting will come along." She reclined somewhat in her chair, the vines lowering the back and bringing up a leg rest for her as she awaited the first customers.

Maksim had woken early that morning, perhaps a little earlier than he preferred, but with the city preparing for the festival, he needed to make sure he wasn't stationary for too long. With people zipping this way and that, both in preparation for the festival and just going about their daily lives, it left many opportunities for Maks to nab a few snacks or small things he could use everyday, such as a refillable water bottle or a scarf.

The young boy stole, yes, but he stole because he had to. There was no one in this city that he trusted, at all actually, and could approach for help. They could all turn on him, just as easily as his parents had been turned on. The boy stuck to stealing only when he needed, or saw a need for something. He didn't steal money, or jewelry, or any other personal belongings really. He was a thief, but he was an honest one. Stealing or harming someone for the sake of money or power wasn't for him. He just wants to survive.

Peeking out from a shaded alleyway, Maksim made sure to stay low and hidden. Using the shadows from the buildings was a simple yet effective way to conceal himself. He mostly kept an eye on places in the city where there weren't many passersby, and where singular people loitered for a little too long. Preferably there were obstacles that Maks could use to hide behind when getting closer, or use to get away quickly in case the unlucky soul tried to chase after him. City parks were the boy's favorite, as he could use the cover from all the shrubs and foliage to sneak up on someone taking a break on a bench, or standing too close to the edge of a path. But Maks preferred to stay out of the park today, especially due to the enormous amount of people hanging around for the festival. Although, people going to and from would be easy targets, and perhaps they would have some snacks for the boy, unbeknownst to them.

Maksim would have to be on his toes today, as the city police would definitely be on the lookout. Maks has had enough run-ins and close calls with them that his face is easily recognized by many, though he couldn't shake the slight bit of confidence he had in being able to evade them on numerous occasions.

Maksim scruffed up his hair a little bit, mostly as a habit and thinking it actually changed his appearance a little, and stepped out from the alleyway, keeping his head low but his eyes up, looking for any little opportunity, but also keeping an eye out for the police should he need to duck back into hiding.

Of all the attendees of the festival there was one angry face that managed to stand out the slightest bit in the crowd. Vincent Dreyer stood by the entrance to the park with a phone to his ear and scowl on his face all while an impatient foot tapped away. "Come on, pick up loser!" Loser being an affectionate term of course. It took a couple more tries and a few more exasperated sighs for an answer to finally come from the phone. Vincent's best friend Lyon. "Finally! I think I've memorized your voicemail message by now. Where are you? I'm by the entrance where we were supposed to meet."

"Yeah, I'm so sorry!" Came the voice from the other side of the phone. It was a fairly quiet and reserved voice, but full of sincerity. "I know I talked you into going today but I just got a call from work, they're understaffed and with the festival apparently a lot of nearby people are having security concerns. I don't think I'm gonna make it there in time." A disappointed look began to cover Vincent's face. "You should enjoy this though!" His friend suggested. "It'll be good for you to actually get out and do something for a change."

"Grr... fine but you owe me you bastard." The conversation ended quickly so now Vincent was stuck staring at the festivities in front of him, wondering what in the hell he was going to do now. For now he decided to wander into the main area into the festival and see what free things he could get from the booths set up.

Despite Maks' best efforts, following various people and waiting for them to make a mistake, he hadn't been able to nab anything for quite awhile. The young boy's stomach grumbled rather noisily, catching the attention of the young couple he was following. They turned around and looked down at him, rather curious. Maks cowered a little bit and held a hand up, covering the side of his face as he turned around, walking away from the couple before they could say anything.

He didn't want to grow desperate, but couldn't ignore the pit in his stomach, it had been a couple days since his last meal, which in all reality was a leftover piece from a bread loaf and a half eaten granola bar. Despite his head screaming at him, telling him not to go towards the park, his stomach won the argument, and off towards the festival Maks went.
He took his time getting there, avoiding large crowds and police officers when he could. Once he reached the park, Maksim found a spot hidden amongst a large group of foliage and trees, a favorite hangout of his when the park was less crowded. He examined the crowd, the different stalls, and most importantly the opportunities. Stalls would be too obvious, so he was smart to stay away from them. The boy was patient and waited until the right opportunity showed itself. After a good ten minutes wait, a younger woman walked by, her face buried in her phone and, from what Maks could smell, a bag of cooked goodies to indulge in.

He was sneaky, using the foliage as cover, Maks followed the woman close to the entrance of the festival. There, her phone started to ring, so she took a seat on an empty wooden bench, placing the plastic bag at her feet and indulging in the phone call.
Maksim saw his chance then. He moved slowly, but with intent, crawling quietly through the bushes until he was on the backside of the bench. He then reached underneath it, carefully watching the woman above as he slowly took hold of the bag, minding the plastic and making sure not to cause too much noise, before lifting it off the ground ever so slightly and pulling it back towards the bushes. The young boy sank back into the foliage then, into a small clearing just a few feet behind the bench.

Interactions: @Bea Mentions: @Lotrix Molick

---

Two people dressed in uniform, sky blue for the top and deep black for the bottom, front covered by green aprons, were preparing a stall like most of the people here were doing. One was young-looking, had brown hair tipped with red, and something long wrapped in black canvas, hanging by his belt. The other was much taller, moving several long tables and chairs for future customers to sit at.

It was smooth going so far.

"Sheffy, those boxes!"

"Got 'em!"

Sheffield's hand shot out and stopped a small tower of crates from tipping over. That was the sixth disaster he had to stop within just an hour. The employee gave a glare at the root of the problem.

"Mister Tusk... wooden boxes? Mind finally explaining what's in these? And don't call me 'Sheffy'."

The man with shaggy brown hair, excited eyes hidden behind his glasses, grinned, showing off his fangs. He was a mutant, just like many others at this gathering, the ones he was determined to show off for today.

"Jalapeno peppers, grown by a certain mutant from Deadridge Farms!" he answered proudly.

"D-Deadridge Farms!? What the heck kinda peppers did you get this time!?"

"The very best! We need more customers more than ever my boy, and the new recipe I taught you all is bound to rope them in."

Sheffield sighed and shifted the boxes at the top, making sure (praying) that they didn't explode or something. It was true that the man was better at cooking than Sheffield was, admirable even, but they had a tendency of blowing up in their faces. Sometimes literally.

"Where is everyone else, anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, they've gone to see the other stalls, the little traitors." He sounded like a father talking about his playful children though.

"...So we're supposed to man this stall, just the two of us?"

"Not at all! I wouldn't leave you to suffer such a fate--"

"You did, once, at the cafe, leaving me with a celebrity," Sheffield muttered darkly.

"--so we're all doing it together after a break." Tusk waved a hand at all the stalls. Despite being on a job, Sheffield was wondering if he could ask for a break to see them all. Mutants have always fascinated him.

"You can go ahead and take a look for a while," Tusk told him.

Sheffield felt a smile and looked to his boss gratefully. "Really?"

"But bring this along."

Tusk shoved a plastic bag into his hands, one with the Rain's Knell logo on it, which was a rain cloud being pushed away by a coffee steaming underneath, painted in varying shades of blue. And if the peppery smell meant anything, Tusk wanted his young employee to advertise the pepper buns.

"Of course..." muttered Sheffield.

"Don't be like that! You don't have to shout or anything," Tusk said as he nudged Sheffield to move. "Now go on! Have a good time."

And so Sheffield did.

There was one booth that was particularly flashy, set up just a few stalls away from Rain's Knell's. The woman manning it looked like she had ivy for tendons, like... Wildvine? As in the cartoon, only more human. Everything on her table of nature seemed to glimmer.

Sheffield heard of Nari the nature mutant, renowned for her botany and alcohol, and maybe a hero by night. He was about to walk over to her before he spotted a hand, poking out of a bush.

He (from Sheffield's view, he only saw a hand) moved slowly, but with intent, crawling quietly through the bushes until he was on the backside of the bench. He then reached underneath it, carefully watching the woman above as he slowly took hold of the bag, minding the plastic and making sure not to cause too much noise, before lifting it off the ground ever so slightly and pulling it back towards the bushes.

Thieves. If it was a plastic bag clearly full of food, then this one must be hungry.

Sheffield looked at the one in his hand. His manager might get mad at him for this...

He walked over to the bush and brushed aside some foliage. He saw a mop of black hair and a blue jacket, one that looked rather well-kept. A thief would normally not have that much hygiene, what with their circumstances.

Sheffield cleared his throat and exclaimed, "There you are!"

Maksim sat comfortably in the clearing, confident that he wasn't spotted, after all, he was as careful as can be. The young boy sat criss-crossed as he placed the plastic bag gently in his lap. Opening it up a little, he looked down inside to find two small samples of honey buns, and a small, half-eaten slice of pound cake.

"Jackpot!" Maks whispered as he pulled out one of the honey buns.

Sheffield cleared his throat and exclaimed, "There you are!"

The sudden exclamation startled Maks causing him to drop the honey bun. Looking over at the man standing not too far away, the boy stood quickly and backed away by a few steps. Maksim's body was clearly tense as he stood there, sharply eyeing the stranger.

Interaction: @Bea

---

There was that look again. Someone was caught red-handed; in one hand was their steal, and in the other their prize (which was rolling away on the ground). The scared face. The wide eyes. The steps away.

Sheffield just gave the purple-eyed boy a smile and picked the bun up, dusting off a few leaves.

"What did I tell you about snacks?" he said, stern and reprimanding. "I told you I'd get you some, right?"

Without waiting for another word, he snatched the stolen bag from the boy's hands and put the bun he had inside. He offered both to the woman who had been watching with astonishment ever since Sheffield shouted.

"Sorry 'bout that ma'am! My little brother here's been getting cheeky-- I mean hungry lately. Just growing up, but really, we're sorry. Riiiight?"

Sheffield pointedly looked at the kid, not subtly shaking his own bag. The smell of fried meat wafted over them a little.

Maksim watched closely, his eyes never once leaving the stranger's own.
It seemed as though he was trying to cover up why Maks had just stolen... but why? What did this stranger have to gain from trying to help him?
The young boy wasn't expecting the stranger to reach out suddenly and take the bag, which startled him, causing him to trip backwards and fall on his back-end.

Maksim's eyes started to glow blue then, simply out of heightened fear and the distress caused by the current situation. The stranger tried to catch Maks' interest when he shook the bag, but the boy wasn't having it. He used one hand to help himself stand quickly, not saying a word before bolting from the small clearing, ducking and jumping over the small shrubbery in an effort to get away quickly.

Interaction: @Bea

---

Maksim's eyes started to glow blue then, simply out of heightened fear and the distress caused by the current situation. The stranger tried to catch Maks' interest when he shook the bag, but the boy wasn't having it. He used one hand to help himself stand quickly, not saying a word before bolting from the small clearing, ducking and jumping over the small shrubbery in an effort to get away quickly.

Sheffield barely registered the eyes when he automatically caught at the kid. Little thieves tended to bolt like rabbits too.

But he only just snatched air. Blinking, he saw the kid pumping his legs, turning this situation more complicated. And tiring if he chased after him.

Instead, Sheffield gritted his teeth at being surprised, not to mention his dull reaction time. He yelled, "Oh, have it your way! Your parents are gonna be ashamed ya know! And here!"

He threw a pepper bun, wrapped up in oil-stopping paper, embossed with the Rain's Knell logo with big words, letting it sail in a perfect arc that bopped the stumbling boy on the head. The kid had run a good distance, but Sheffield's aim was hardly daunted by that.

"Eat, so that I won't catch you stealing again, got that!?"

Boy, did this feel familiar, except this was not a petty little sister he was dealing with.

Little did Maksim or Sheffield know that they had someone watching their interaction. After all something like that is bound to draw attention and there was no way in hell Vincent believed those two were brothers. Something was off about the boy though, he acted weird. Like a frightened animal. "I didn't expect to do any 'work' today but duty calls I guess." He muttered to himself. The mutant began to quickly slip through the crowd after the child, barely managing to keep up. He wasn't quite sure of why he was doing this. Was it curiosity? A desire to help what very much seemed to be a street child? He couldn't quite place it.

Eventually Vincent caught up to the child whenever he decided to stop. Rather then forcibly trying to stop the child Vincent tried to be a little more calm in his approach. Normally he wouldn't care but there was something about the kid. Maybe he could kind of relate to how the kid felt, frightened and afraid. "Hey kid, I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk." He continued to approach the kid as cautiously as he could and kept an eye out for any sudden movements. "What's your name kid?"

Maksim ran hard and fast, too afraid to even stop and pick up the pepper bun that hit his head. This was a mistake, and the boy knew it. He shouldn't have gone to the park, there were too many people.
Finally Maks made it to a quieter part of the city. He stopped along a section of sidewalk, one side was bordered by the road, and the other by an old abandoned shop. His eyes still glowed blue as he took a few deep breaths, holding a hand over his stomach as it growled noisily.
His attention was drawn behind him, as he heard footsteps and another unfamiliar voice.

"Hey kid, I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk." He continued to approach the kid as cautiously as he could and kept an eye out for any sudden movements. "What's your name kid?"

Maksim spun around, his eyes still glowing blue and a hard look of fear and distrust upon his face.
The boy said nothing for a long time, watching this new stranger very closely, all the while observing his surroundings for a way to slip away.
Was this man part of the police? Or another organization? He didn't seem to be wearing any uniform.
"Leave me alone." was the first thing the boy said after a few long, tense moments of silence.

Asuka let out a short sigh of relief as she entered the festival grounds, for a moment, she thought she would be stuck out of it as crowds were quick to gather and she, of course, had managed to wake up very late... and forgotten to set aside a good outfit so she could just quickly dress up for the day... but that was in the past now.

It had been a few months since she moved into Azure and she was still adapting to life in a new country, an event such as this was a good opportunity to integrate and it was also charity focused. It was not easy to be in a crowd full of strangers with no one she knew to accompany her, but if she didn't force herself into these sort of situations, she would be stuck as a loner in foreign lands.

"Maybe I will have something to eat." she whispered to herself, she had to skip breakfast as she was too busy shuffling through her messy wardrobe for something to dress. It was hard to decide with so many stalls offering such a myriad of snacks, and unable to pick something, Asuka just started to get one of each, on the first trip she had bought a pizza, a hotdog, two sodas, one yakisoba plate, and french fries, all spread out in a table for four. While eating such a banquet, she was already eyeing the other stalls for more.

Nari heard some rather familiar commotion nearby. Thieves and pickpockets found the festival to be irresistible. Some just needed food, so the smart ones knew to stop by her stall since she gave out free food. Only her alcohol cost anything at the festival because it took her much more time and effort than growing her plants. It seemed the one kid didn't play along with the other man's attempt to get him out of the situation. It all ended with the man sending some sort of bun sailing into the kid's head. "Huh, impressive aim."

She decided to get the older man's attention. The kid ran like a scared rabbit, like most inexperienced pickpockets. Either he was new to the game or simply wasn't fond of doing it. Either way, he was obviously hungry. She let out a quick, sharp whistle to try and draw Sheffield's attention. "Sir, with the buns, come on over here!" While she yelled at him, Nari stood up and let the vine chair revert into a non-recliner.

Interaction: @Lotrix Molick.
Mention: @Bea.

---

After apologizing to the woman for something he wasn’t responsible for in the first place, Sheffield ducked away from the stares his shouts got him.

Thieves. He doesn’t know that kid, like most of the other poor people here. But he simply wanted to help, only, people were naturally cautious of each other.

Trust.

She (Nari) let out a quick, sharp whistle to try and draw Sheffield's attention. "Sir, with the buns, come on over here!" While she yelled at him, Nari stood up and let the vine chair revert into a non-recliner.

Sheffield looked up from the pepper bun he was picking up. The kid hadn’t even bothered to take it! Still, the lady he had wanted to see at first was now waving at him.

At least this day wasn’t getting any worse. He walked over to Nari Sol and greeted her, ”Good morning, Miss Sol. Sorry for the commotion.”

He looked at all the fancy colors, attractive and hypnotizing in their own way. Maybe Sheffield could get something for desserts. ”What goods do you happen to have on hand today?”

A cold, sterile interior greeted the two as they stepped into George's workshop. Reminiscent of a movie set reminding an onlooker of the secret, hidden basement riddled with computers and screens, George's most precious space followed along the same theme. Silvery steel rowed walls, floors and ceiling alike, clearly revealing the large man's reluctance to ever move from their apartment. One could only imagine the hours spent on constructing the venue, not to mention the favors he had called in. However, in this sequence, it would be fair to state that Nico and George had been hired by the most obscure and obfuscated parts of the American military to deal with issues otherwise kept at a distance. Payment was issued in the way of technology which George gleefully accepted. This would, of course, dredge the issue of Nico's secret. Indeed, there were a negligible number of officials who knew who the pop star actually was, but a mutual understanding brought the two parties to a leveled field, and it was a beneficial relationship to utter the least. "Welcome to Georgia." Came a joke from the veteran, before Nico scoffed at him.

"Nerd," the boy smirked, "ey! Don't lick anything!" Azure's pop star continued and pointed at his dogs who curiously followed them into the workshop. Noting the many screens and panels throughout the room, one could make a guided guess as to what other role George played between himself and Nico. The man was a respectable hacker, offering Nico, or rather Rayne, assistance on the field in the form of Intel. At times, one would be surprised by how organized their outfit was, and it was safe to consider them assassins, with accepted missions from officially non-existent parts of the military. Old friends of George, people he had worked with in the past. "Ever considered playing anything else than Bob Marley in here?" The small, pale mutant thinned over his shoulder towards the laptop with 'Three little birds,' paused on the screen.

"Boy, you don't fix what ain't broken," the larger male stated in response. Bob Marley had without a doubt been part of George's life for quite some time, an assumption safe to make following the parafinelia ever so common amongst his belongings.

An initial image to greet whoever stepped into the room was quite clearly the many blades professionally displayed in large, glass cases and illuminated by internal lights. They were the various weapons Nico had used throughout his career as a vigilante, each blade designed with one purpose in mind. Killing. Blades of varying sizes, weight and structure were laid bare beneath the light, each quite unique in its build. One would take into consideration the fact that none of these weapons were designed for normal use, but rather specifically for Nico's abilities. Most lacked handles, rather being a long, slender blade stretching from one end to the other.

Of course, no vigilante armory would be complete without its very own glass display of suits. For Nico, it was mainly a presentation of masks. He quite hated leather and spandex. Some followed along a theme of beauty, others of horror. Some were plain and a few were actually cute, a sense of morbid mockery in the face of chaotic bloodletting.

Each mask offered the same repertoire of functions. They distorted Nico's voice, allowed for constant communication with George back in base, and contained lenses which showed the dark-skinned man exactly what Nico was seeing through a camera. Other than that, Nico quite enjoyed the simplicity of his selection. "Alright, so where is this beauty of yours?" The boy asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, a piece of fabric easily swallowing his tiny form.

"Here's our new baby," George stated, pulling out a section of the examination table, as if a drawer, and revealed the sword within. Though somewhat simple in appearance, the blade offered an incredibly elegant build. Double edged, like every sword in Nico's selection, the silver colored surface of this sword interlocked and slithered together along its length as it accumulated in a sharp tip. Entirely straight, the sword lacked a handguard as such an addition would string along complete irrelevance, with how Nico wielded swords. The blade did, in fact, have a handle, as Nico had found himself in a position where he was forced to arm someone else. Though a rare scenario, the difference between life and death warranted preparation. Of course, there were also times where he forced people to fight to the death and he would spare the winner. Nico was somewhat tyrannical when wearing his mask, returning all the wrongdoings of his opponents tenfold, with twisted satisfaction. Also, he didn't often spare the winner. "Let me present to you, The Serpent." George carefully lifted the sword onto the examination table, a silk cloth beneath. "Ninety centimeters," he indicated the blade's length, a finger traveling from one end of the silken cloth to the other as he did not want to touch the perfect surface with his bare skin. "Two pounds, slightly above average for a sword," George continued, "cutting out the excess weight and making it more aerodynamic," he explained, motioning toward the holes in the sword's length. Too heavy and the blade would be difficult to launch effectively. "I designed it from Arctic Steel, army is still testing that stuff."

"Arctic Steel?" Nico tilted his head, placing a hand on Lucifer, the most mischievous of the three brothers and kept him from wreaking havoc in the workshop. Where Belial and Mephistopheles were calm, collected and most all, disciplined, their youngest brother was anything but. Nico would have found this infuriating, if he wasn't the exact person Lucifer had learned this from.

"Real damn sturdy. With the force you launch these things, it'll get stuck in a metal wall. Won't cut through it, but you won't be slashing metal anyway," the engineer finished. Nico's swords were launched with fearsome strength, but while the momentum would allow a bullet-like shot from his blades to sink the sword into metal, actually slicing it was another matter. Physics played a large part in Nico's powers. Something he needed to understand, because no one was more aware than him, that without his powers, Nico was powerless. "Finally, it's full tang. Same piece of steel from top to bottom. Handle is bolted on."

Learning about the sword, Nico's dainty, pale fingers carefully traced a path across the rubber handle, followed by gently wrapping his digits around the sword's shape and turned it. One could clearly see the metal between each half of the rubber hilt, the boy's eyes drinking in the sight of this weapon in the process of successful imprinting. He needed to learn about the shape, he needed to lift it to reveal the weight in his hands, and he ever so carefully padded the side of the edge with a finger, growing accustomed to its most immediate danger. "This thing feels like sex."

"... Classy," George cleared his throat. With a very dim hue licking past the sword's entirety, George could make the conclusion that Nico had managed to imprint with the weapon, a small smirk edging across the man's lips.

"Alright," the boy carefully lowered his new sword, "let's go to the festival."

"Dude, we're two hours early." George raised a brow, as he crossed his arms.

"Correction, we're two hours Nico," the pop star winked, and stepped out of the workshop, leaving George dumbfounded.

Following a bout of silence, the man finally responded. "That makes no sense!" 

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"K Nine" and "Setsuka"
Festival Grounds
Interactions: N/A

Near the edge of the park entrance, there were a few police cars. Obvious since there were security at such an event. Even more so since mutants were involved with the festival.

But perhaps one vehicle that stood out near a police car was a SWAT van. Or perhaps not since it may show how over-prepared law enforcement were in case something went wrong. After all, depending, mutants or even normal humans could see this festival as another form of opportunity.

Yet...the two individuals IN the said van weren't exactly SWAT.

A police officer, a lieutenant based on the rank printed on the arm sleeve of his uniform, was standing near the back just keeping an eye on things from his position. He briefly took glances at the open doors behind the SWAT van to watch the two individuals doing some prep work inside. One, a male young teen he had guessed, was checking what looked like a pistol. A Glock 22 from the looks of it along with a combat knife. He also had what looked like an MP5 sub machine gun near him as he sat and checked them over. On his opposite side, also a young teen but female, was typing away on a laptop while holding her finger to the side of her ear as if listening in on radio chatter. Near her was a sniper rifle of some sort. A Remington semi-auto by the looks of it. And near her was also another MP5. The rest of the van also had some typical gear common for SWAT like flashbang grenades, a riot shield, body armor, radio headsets, etc.

But one thing that struck him as odd was the fact that both were fully dressed in SWAT-like gear so he couldn't even see the physical features of either. However, on certain parts of the clothing and armor were three letters that even the lieutenant knew all too well.

M.S.U. or Mutant Suppression Unit.

Even the lieutenant had heard the rumors about the supposed organization. Most of it being an all-mutant outfit similar to that of the FBI that actually hunts down rogue or dangerous mutants that normal law enforcements can't handle. That they're also ruthless, usually killing said mutant targets as the go-to order. Weather that was true or not, even he didn't knew since any operations the MSU did was usually kept under wraps even for those above his rank according to what his police chief had told him once.

But after briefly talking to the two "SWAT" like members of the MSU here called "K Nine" and "Setsuka", he just had a hard time believing the ruthless part. Both knew their stuff and were very cooperative with all the other police officers around here. Even those who said that they could just hang out near the van till the main attraction of the festival showed up.

Honestly, he also just wanted to tell the two to just go home or at least go enjoy the festival.

It was rude, sure, but it wasn't because he hated mutants. He just felt that their presence here was...over excessive. Did M.S.U. really cared about some random festival? Sure, there are mutants here too but...well he just felt that some nut job with a bomb wasn't going to try something with several mutants here would could more than defend themselves should the need arise.

But then again, it was a dangerous world out there. Even more so with mutants.

He then got a call on his radio about an incident. After an officer explained to him what had happened, the female inside the van addressed him.

"Lieutenant. I just heard the radio chatter. Do you want us to investigate?", the one called Setsuka asked.

"That's alright. From the sound of it, just another homeless thief looking for his next meal. The officer said the lady had everything in her possession. It seems the thief was only after her food. Still...we've been having a rash of similar incidents like this lately", the lieutenant responded.

"Understood sir. Just let us know if you need us", the one called "K Nine" then said.

The lieutenant simply nodded at that. K Nine then asked, "By the way sir. Has our senior shown up or asked about us yet?"

"Oh you mean that M.S.U. Investigations Officer? No I haven't heard from him. But like I said before, if any of the other officers find him or ask them about you, they'll call it in."

Both nodded to him and he returned the nod as he walked away from the van. Still, it just blew his mind on how young both sounded.

...they're just kids...even if they are mutants and in their teen years it seems...what made them both do such dangerous work?, the lieutenant thought as he decided to walk on his usual patrol.

When Sheffield approached her stand, Nari smiled. "Well, first let me talk about that thief. If you think he was just hungry, which is what it seemed to me, then feel free to take some produce in a bag for him. As for my goods, they are the same things as usual. Produce is free and alcohol will cost you. I did create a couple test plants just for the sake of doing it. Ever had a snap bean that tasted like pomegranate? I have those. I have some edamame that has some added cranberry flavor to be interesting. Oh, I also have grapes that taste like a mix of raspberry and kiwi. All the flavor, none of the mess or prep!" As she spoke, her hands, assisted by various vines around her, showed off the produce as she described it.

Once her rather enthusiastic spiel was done, she settled down some, deciding to grab a few raspberry kiwi grapes, popping one in at a time to enjoy the flavor. "So, does anything trip your trigger? Or are you here for some of my alcohol? I am happy to offer a free taste, but you will of course need to pay for the bottle if you want to take it home." In reality, she sold her produce a lot outside of festivals, but this was just prime time and real estate for testing new plants on people who may wish to order some. She even had a stack of order forms sat on a small table at the front of the stall.

Interaction: @Lotrix Molick
Mention:@Bea

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Nari smiled.

But listening to her sales pitch immediately rang alarms in Sheffield's head. He was expecting weird produce, but the examples she gave hit him like a hammer that reminded the young man of what mutants could do.

Sheffield frowned, though more in thought. Exotic foods were one thing, but the mutant variety? Scientists around the world had all sorts of test subjects for a reason. And Sheffield would know.

Still, Nari had a good reputation, and she wouldn't be out here selling goods that would lower her standings in the market popularity charts. If anything, this was a chance to try whipping up something, or test them on someone--maybe that thief if he found him--before Sheffield does.

The young man quirked one corner of his lips. "I heard of mutants growing all sorts of wacky stuff, you included. But that kind of stuff is starting to become my brand of normal goods lately, as much as I hate to say it. Still, you've got a nice range here."

He bent down to look at the label on one bottle of red wine. Assuming it was red wine.

"I'll take a look at all these vegetable and fruits, but right now I'm thinking of using a wine in sauces, the kind you'd pair with oven-baked meat. As in, the kind you boil in a pan and mix with melted butter? Do you have something like that?"

He'll probably have to explain to his boss about bringing home some stuff, but he was grinning a little now.