 Vincenzo “Vincent” Accardo Boss of the Thorned Roses White Pine, Laterdale, Unknown W +2(3) P +6(5) Total: W 5 P 11 Status: No war |  Antonia Franchesca Police Commissioner Jeweled Bank W +3 P +5 Total: W 3 P 5 Status: No war |  Ezra Blackheart Midnight Man Unknown, Unknown W +(6) P +(10) Total: W 6 P 10 Status: No war |
 Asterion Kairo Jumper Nickel W +3 P +5 Total: W 3 P 5 Status: No war |  Matthias FitzClarence Lodestar Waterfront Vale Riverbend W +2 P +6 Total: W 2 P 6 Status: No war |  Isabella “Bella” Delacroix The Iron Rose Highfair, Ivory Tower W +2 P +6 Total: W 2 P 6 Status: No war |
 Adel Dawsom Silver Canary Silverside W +3 P +5 Total: W 3 P 5 Status: No war |  Webb Cursed Spider NA W +0 P +0 Total: W 0 P 0 Status: No war |  Harriet Talon Winged Blade Hamlet, Bazaar W +1.5 P +5 Total: W 1.5 P 5 Status: No war |
 Leon “Leo” MacAoidh Captain Burberry W +3 P +5 Total: W 3 P 5 Status: No war |  T. Eren Glyde-Savion Sarge 93rd Street, Yellow Brick, Merryland W +1.5 P +6 Total: W 1.5 P 6 Status: No war |  Emily Newport Blue Blooded Detective Gold Rim W +3 P +5 Total: W 3 P 5 Status: No war |
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[IC] Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic
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- GM Estylwen
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Estylwen The Villainess
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Once upon a time, there was a Beggar Prince who was scorned by a great and terrible city. Instead of giving him alms, they stole what little he had. Instead of giving him respite and shelter, they chased him out every place he tried to rest in. He cried for relief, but they beat him.
It was too much, and he prayed hard in the downpour of bitter rain, hoping his voice would reach the heavens.
As his tears mixed with the rain, a great illumination took the sky. Light struck the city, creating the first Gyft. The Begger Prince saw this Gyft, partook of it, and found it to be good. Though, he feared what would happen if the Gyft spread.
Alas, the Gyft did spread. The city choked by sin only grew more violent, more selfish, and more dangerous. The Beggar Prince, deeply dismayed by what the people had done with this blessing, turned his attention outward, to the world who now wanted to kill this blight.
He wished not for the destruction of the city. He safeguarded the city from those outside forces who wished to destroy it. The city that cared not for him, he sacrificed his health and power to protect it, hoping to nurture it, to create blooms of goodness from it. To protect the people from themselves.
Alas, the nature of this great city was one of power, of conquest, and subjugation. In light of the powers of the Gyft, new powers grew in the city, safeguarded by the Beggar Prince to grow and, perhaps, bring a semblance of peace to the city.
Once it was entirely conquested. Once they had had their fill of the drink of power, of wealth. Perhaps, if they could have everything in the world, the city would know peace, finally.
It was too much, and he prayed hard in the downpour of bitter rain, hoping his voice would reach the heavens.
As his tears mixed with the rain, a great illumination took the sky. Light struck the city, creating the first Gyft. The Begger Prince saw this Gyft, partook of it, and found it to be good. Though, he feared what would happen if the Gyft spread.
Alas, the Gyft did spread. The city choked by sin only grew more violent, more selfish, and more dangerous. The Beggar Prince, deeply dismayed by what the people had done with this blessing, turned his attention outward, to the world who now wanted to kill this blight.
He wished not for the destruction of the city. He safeguarded the city from those outside forces who wished to destroy it. The city that cared not for him, he sacrificed his health and power to protect it, hoping to nurture it, to create blooms of goodness from it. To protect the people from themselves.
Alas, the nature of this great city was one of power, of conquest, and subjugation. In light of the powers of the Gyft, new powers grew in the city, safeguarded by the Beggar Prince to grow and, perhaps, bring a semblance of peace to the city.
Once it was entirely conquested. Once they had had their fill of the drink of power, of wealth. Perhaps, if they could have everything in the world, the city would know peace, finally.
The Hundred And First, White Pine
Vincent Accardo stood in front of the wall-to-ceiling glass panes that overlooked the skyline of Nocturnia. In the distance, there was the familiar ribbon of black that marked the quarantine wall. The sky was overcast today, with temperatures dropping to 10 degrees Celsius. Not that the cold affected him in his penthouse.
Not much did.
Vincent swirled the glass of scotch in his hand, staring at the bustle of movement far down below, when his phone buzzed. He smirked at the caller ID, and pressed it to his ear. A loud, biting voice immediately started barking at him, however it was impossible to hear - his ears only.
A smirk as Vincent responded. “Betrayed? What in the heavens are you talking about, crazy man?”
Another pause. Vincent held a faux-innocent tone in his voice.
“What drugs?”
Another loud blare on the phone. Whoever he was speaking was practically yelling at him.
Vincent turned away from the window, chuckling. “Hey, hey, don't get your panties up in a knot. I'm upholding my promises just fine. You wanted a solution, I'm giving you a solution. Better than the alternative, yes?”
A pause, before he shrugged, whiskey gently swishing.
“Listen, I'll send you a sample. Free of cost.”
Another pause.
“Now, now, you know I'm being quite sincere.”
Vincent's smirk widened a little as he listened. He allowed himself a small chuckle.
“Stop? No, this is just the beginning.”
He spun, placing his whiskey on the counter.
“Now, if you have anything else to yell at me, you'll have to take it up with my secretary. Ciao~!”
And he pulled the phone away, ending the call and sliding it back into his pants pocket. A sigh, leaning with his palms against the counter briefly, staring down at the amber liquid in his cup.
It was only a few minutes of reprieve before his phone buzzed again.
“Boss, the package is ready for your inspection.” Said the voice over the speakerphone.Vincent smirked lightly. This was perfect.
“Oh wonderful. I'll be right over.”
Unknown Location, White Pine
Mentions: Asterion (@The Savant) Interactions: Bella (@Qia)
A single light swayed from side to side, hanging from the ceiling. The edges of the room melted into darkness. The floor was rough concrete. Two shadowed figures stood at the rough outline of a door, staring at the ‘package’.
The door opened, and Vincent entered, pulling leather gloves over his hands.
In front of him, slowly coming to, was none other than Isabella Delacroix. She was strapped into a metal chair with armrests. And, poking out between the arm straps, was a needle and a steel tube. The steel tube connected to a metal container on wheels, quietly whirring. The machine, in effect, was draining Bella’s blood, leaving her with three pints to keep her alive. The tubing and container were all steel, ensuring she would have a more difficult time accessing her blood and using her powers.
Behind Vincent, more men filed in, taking positions around and behind Bella, leveling their rifles at her.
A gloved hand reached down, lifting Bella's chin, forcing her look at him. Vincent smirked, angling her face this way and that.
”No bruising. I would be bemoaned if something happened to that delicate face of yours.”
He let go of her chin, gesturing to one of the men in the room. A small stool was placed in front of Bella, and Vincent took a seat, adjusting his suit delicately.
”Now, I hope you're not too uncomfortable. The light-headed-ness is normal given your situation, I assure you.” He said, nodding towards the machine.
”I don't think I have to remind you that if you try anything…” His gaze fell on the guns leveled at her. ”Well, it wouldn't end well, yes?”
He smirked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. ”There's something I need you to do for me, little mafia boss. There's a… well, should I say, little too successful mafia group, led by Mr. Asterion Kairo.
“Their territory, Nickel, runs alongside your Ivory Tower. I want you to mount an operation, and sabotage their source of income, the Echo Chamber. Burn it to the ground if you have to.”
A pause, before his smirk widened. ”And if you're successful, I'll consider us even. I'll even sweeten the pot and pay you, if you behave.
“Do we have a deal, Bella?”
Vincent: W +5 P +11, Bella: W +2 P +6
Nickel
Mentions: NA Interactions: Asterion's Mafia (@The Savant)
A short woman in a shiny, bright pink coat with the hood up walked through the streets of Nickel. There was a hop in her step, and she clutched something tightly in her jacket pocket. The shape gave her comfort, and her razor-sharp smile widened under the hood.
Despite the cold weather and overcast skies, people were still using the streets. Quite a few, actually. They carried their umbrellas, walked with their sense of purpose, having wholly forgotten they were in a glorified cage.
The short woman skipped a little too enthusiastically, and bumped hard into a gentlemen as they crossed paths at the crosswalk.
The man turned around, snarling. ”Hey, watch where you're going!”
The woman merely looked back, before she smiled cruelly. She was close enough to the spot. This would work fine.
And, she raised an empty hand in the direction of the man, before a heavy ball manifested into it, twine sparking as it slowly burned towards the top of the ball.
Any bravado in the man's face immediately dropped, and he stared in horror. ”Is that a-”
A woman screamed. ”Bomb!”
Cries of panic erupted as the crowd scattered from the pink-clad woman. Still smiling, she pulled back her hood, revealing two horns and pigtailed hair.
”What's wrong? Scared?” She chuckled at the fleeing crowd, hurling the bomb at the nearest building. The ball detonated, leaving a flaming crater about five or six feet wide in the building.
Another bomb was summoned, flung into the opposite building. By now traffic had stopped and jammed, with people fleeing their cars. With a high-pitched giggle, Hailey began targeting cars, explosions ringing out for blocks.
Asterion: W +3 P +5
The Order of Enlightenment Church, Riverbend
In collaboration with @ERode
Mentions: NA Interactions: Matthias (@ERode)
Church, or whatever the Order of Enlightenment constituted as church, had concluded for the day. Followers began standing from their pews, eager to glean even a word more from their beloved one, Matthias FitzClarence. He had stepped down from the pulpit, the candlelight ringed around causing his hazy head to illuminate.
It was at this precise moment, in the in-between, at the conclusion of a session that had softened the hearts of its listeners and converted more fence-sitters to devouts, that the outside doors cracked open. Sunlight shone through, catching the wisps of tousled maroon hair as a young man smoking a cigarette entered the building.
The door shut behind him, and he stood there at the precipice for just a moment, gazing at the crowd. His half-lidded eyes zeroed on Matthias, and an easy smirk crossed his face.
Cyrus Levine had a certain reputation. A reputation that had even reached the enlightened cult. If he was here, unannounced, it meant he had news. News that was worth its weight in gold.
He stood there, hand raising to his lips to take another suck on his stick, the smoke streaming around him. Patient. Waiting for Matthias to, as he normally would, give him a private audience.
Honestly, it was kinda crazy that people could believe him so readily. How on earth was it that having a face that couldn’t be read would make him even more trustworthy? As Matthias called up another pastor to deliver the benediction, he stepped off to the side, still garbed in his father’s old ceremonial robes. It was a dark, woolen garment, weighing heavily on his shoulders. Gold ornaments, like the streaks left by falling stars, fell, rose up from the hems of the robes, symbolizing the ascent of mortals to the firmament.
In most believers eyes, it was iconic, a stout-voiced youth with a nebula for a head.
For the one who stood before him, however, it was doubtful that Matthias would be seeing any prostration or begging for the Discipline.
“Welcome to the Sanctuary of Logos, wandering erudite,” Matthias spoke, in the vernacular of the faith-spreading, “Have you come to pay fealty? Or are you here to ask for alms?”
Cyrus chuckled, biting a little on his cigarette.
”Mr. FitzClarence! You're looking good these days. Though I'd love to talk openly here, I think it would be best if you humored me with a private room. Unless you want my news to scare your people.”
“A confessional then.” The wooden box wasn’t something that saw much use after the Catholic Church was turned over to the Order; the pursuit of knowledge cared little for the acknowledgement of sin, after all. But it was soundproof while still being in a relative public space. “After you, Mr. Levine.”
Cyrus eyed the box lazily, before shrugging and entering the one side. As he shut the door behind him and took a seat, the murmur of the crowd outside faded into silence. Perfect.
He waited for Mattias to enter the other side, light shifting against the fine mesh that separated the two sides. When he was settled, Cyrus spoke.
”They're after you, Mr. FitzClarence. Arresting your men and women, and removing your children from your influence. A complete dismantle of the Order. The Commissioner has finally had enough, and is preparing to ‘clean house’. And just because your track record is clean, doesn't mean they won't be above planting evidence on you to take you in.”
Cyrus took a moment to suck on his cigarette, languishing in his seat. The end grew cherry-red, burning and suffusing the box with a hint of smoke.
”However, I have a way for you to get into their good books. It'll cost you, though. A favour. In the event I need to call on you for anything.”
There was a grin in the semi-darkness. ”Can you agree to that, Lodestar?”
“The Commissioner’s had enough of kids staying in school and addicts staying in rehab?” If Matthias had a brow to raise, he would have done so. While the Order of Enlightenment couldn’t be considered a completely above-board organization, they weren’t so explosively sinister as the other mafias and cults that populated Nocturnia. After all, he wasn’t out there enslaving and branding people, nor was he blowing up buildings and killing kids. But perhaps that made Nocturnia’s Commissioner think of this as an easy win.
Kinda stupid…but no.
There was the Del Guarde to the west. A plan to connect a ‘bridge’ between the two forces, surrounding White Pine on all three sides to then wrest control from that territory, in order to further solidify control over Heavy Crossguard’s surroundings? Unless she sought to push southwards and claim Waterfront Vale, and thus control Nocturnia’s ‘exit’.
The Lodestar leaned against the wall. He could practically hear the smile on Cyrus’s voice.
“Nothing’s more expensive than a favour, Mr. Levine. I’m sure you of all people would understand that. So be specific. What would you use that favour for?”
Cyrus leaned his head against the back wall, the cherry-end of his cigarette glowing hot. He smirked.
”You always were clever, Mr. FitzClarence.”
A short pause. A huff of smoky air.
”If there was ever a time where one faction in Nocturnia became too big for its britches, I'd expect your help in, shall we say, hitting them where it hurts.”
He shrugged. ”Or you can pay me ten grand and we can call it even. I'm an agreeable man.”
“Faith and money both flow better in times of duress,” Matthias spoke. “Very well then, Mr. Levine. You shall have your favour.”
”Then we're both agreeable men.” Cyrus said with a nod.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. ”There's a cache of a new kind of drug hidden in Pauper Town. In the basement of a safehouse on Victoria Street. If you claim that district for your own and dig up that treasure to hand over to the blue men, they'll be singing your praises for weeks.
“Plus, you may be interested in figuring out where they came from. Interesting origins, those…”
Matthias fell silent for a moment, but only to give off the illusion of contemplation. After all, he had intended on claiming Pauper Town already, in order to prevent further expansion of the De Guarde. To think that there was a chemist that fancied themselves an inventor as well…it was interesting, no doubt.
“I’ll keep that in mind then. One would hope that the takeover of that district is a bloodless affair.” He stood up in the booth, an indication for Cyrus to leave as well. “Will you be staying for the after-service luncheon?”
Cyrus bit down on his cigarette, now a husky little stump, grinning a little. He stood as well.
”Though I would love to stay, there's other business I must take care of. You know how it is.”
He had his hand on the door, before pausing. ”For what it's worth, I wish you luck.”
Before he stepped out of the booth, down the aisle, and out of the church.
Matthias: W +2 P +6The Blue Feather Revererers
Harriet's Orphanage, Hamlet
Mentions: NA Interactions: Harriet (@SporkoBug)
The cooler weather hovering around 10 degrees Celsius forced the children to play indoors that day. Among the finger painting and the building of train tracks, the children frolicked around their ‘Mother’, Harriet Talon.
There was a knock at the door, before a group of five young men, more like lankey teenagers, entered the premises. They had wide eyes, and seemed a bit nervous. The group looked amongst each other before one stepped forward, glancing at the children briefly before locking eyes with Harriet.
”Miss, uh, Talon? You don't know us, but uh, we know you. You're kinda a hero, you know?”
There was a nervous chuckle that rippled through the group, before the teenager spoke again.
”We've, uh, heard some news. It might not be appropriate to tell it in front of the kids, though. Can we uh, talk to you in private for a moment?”
The teenagers nodded at those words, their anxious eyes hooked on Harriet. Something was eating at them. But whatever it was, they seemed unwilling to spill the beans just yet.
Harriet: W +1.5 P +5
Nocturnia Prison, Jeweled Bank
Mentions:Asterion @The Savant, Matthias (@ERode), Bella (@Qia), Vincent, Ezra (@Estylwen), Harriet (@SporkoBug) Interactions: Leo (@Herald), Emily (@LanaStorm)
”I'll keep this short and simple. You're here because you're the best in the field. I’ve got cold cases that need addressing…”
The overcast skies shone through the wide-pane glass in Commissioner Franchesca's office on the fifth floor of Nocturnia Prison, the most notable skyscraper in downtown Jeweled Bank.
The commissioner was dressed in a slim-fitting black business suit, shades on her face despite being indoors. She sat behind her desk, looking over at the three detectives sitting across from her. Leo, the lion of the 3rd division. Emily, the noteworthy ‘Clash’ of the 2nd division. Jack, the menace of the 1st Division.
There were case files all laid out in a neat row across Antonia's desk.
“Each of these files contain mafias that have been a thorn in my side - in Nocturnia's side - for several years. I've decided, as part of my initiative as the new Commissioner, I'm going to close these cases for good.”
A nod. “With your help, of course.”
She gestured to the cases, “Choose carefully, and read them in full. If you make an arrest, I'll be giving you your Christmas bonus early, plus a little extra.”
Name: Asterion Kario
Alias: The Jumper
Age: 27
Remarks: Repeated endeavors to investigate Echo Chambers’ business practices and missing persons cases in the Nickel area has been diverted by the local district's police. Something is afoul here, foul play. More evidence is needed to make an arrest.Name: Matthias FitzClarence
Alias: The Lodestar
Age: 29
Remarks: The previous leader of this ‘Order of Enlightenment’ mysteriously disappeared. All investigations led into a dead end. Almost overnight, the victim's son, Matthias FitzClarence took control of this cult. Thus making Matthias a prime suspect with motive. Attempts to interrogate him have proved hopeless; evidence is needed to move the case forward.Name: Isabella Delacroix
Alias: The Iron Rose
Age: 28
Remarks: Drugs go in and out of Isabella's territory. It is suspected that there is money laundering going on as well. All attempts at getting our moles close enough to lift evidence has proven fruitless. Isabella is a dangerous target who leads a multi-million dollar criminal organization that must be stopped.Name: Vincenzo Accardo
Alias: The Boss
Age: 31
Remarks: It is recommended to get a mole into the operation behind the Irish Pint front. However, attempts have been unsuccessful. The Latterdale Jazz Bar is also high on the list of priorities for bugging due to the high traffic of known criminal figures. We just need a scrap of evidence, and he'll be in jail for at least 25 years.Name: Ezra Blackheart
Alias: The Midnight Man
Age: 35
Remarks: Strange devices have been found popping up all over Nocturnia and in the aide trucks as they leave. There's something fishy going on here, and we are in coordination with counter-terrorism organizations on the outside to ensure the safety of Nocturnia from the likes of Ezra and the Dark Aces. It is not recommended to deal with this case directly.Name: Harriet Talon
Alias: The Winged Blade
Age: 27
Remarks: This one is known as a child snatcher, and has been linked to a number of missing child cases. We have reason to believe the source of funding for her kidnapping ring is the distribution of illicit substances. However, we lack the hard evidence yet to convict her.Jack eyed the case files, before glancing at Emily and Leon. ”There's quite a few here. I'll be a good sport here and let you both choose your cases first. Though…”
His cool gaze moved over to the commissioner. ”You're not really expecting us to close all these cases before Christmas, are you?”
Antonia gently shook her head. ”Heavens no. But I am expecting at least three arrests, as I see three competent detectives before me.”
“Plant fake evidence on them if you have to, interrogate them in the ‘warehouse’ if you must. But we will put them in jail, where they belong.”
The ‘warehouse’, of course, was where interogatees were taken and tortured to give up a confession. An unsavory, yet sometimes necessary part of the job.
Leon: W +3 P +5, Emily: W +3 P +5The Military
In the Skies Over the Nocturnia PD Hub, Yellow Brick
Mention: NA Interactions: Glyde (@Little Bird)
”We're approaching the target. Prepare the package."The pilot's voice crackled over the cargo plane's speakers. Four military men unstrapped themselves from the seats they'd been sitting in, one of them tapping on the two large crates sitting in the bay.
”You think they'll like it?” He said to the others.
A stern-looking leading officer made a face at the soldier. ”Who the hell cares if they like it or not? What matters is that these packages reach them, and that they are equipped to complete their objective. Our entire operation hangs on their success.”
The man touching the crate grimaced, nodding somberly. ”Right. Right… Imagine, though. Being stuck behind the walls with the rest of those savages…”
An eye roll. ”Just take your position, soldier.”
A button was pressed, causing the cargo bay door to open at a downward slant. The four military men held onto straps hanging from the ceiling, and each placed a hand on the back of the cargo packages. With a great heave, the packages skidded forward, before sliding out the back of the plane, sailing through the air and disappearing.
On the ground, two care packages sank slowly with their parachutes aimed for Yellow Brick. One landed on the Nocturnia PD building, while the other landed in the back alley.
If Glyde or his men were to open the crates, one would have a massive M134 GAU-17, while the other would be filled with ammunition.
Glyde: W +1.5 P +6
Slateside Tower, Penny Stakes
Mentions: Matthias (@ERode) Interactions: Adel (@Yankee)
”Ah, Mr. Dawson. So happy you could join us.”
Ezra sat at the head of a conference table, the overcast skies shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Adel Dawson stood at the precipice of the conference room, held by the elbow on either side by two mafiosos.
It had been quite the journey for Adel to make it all the way to this fortuitous meeting. He'd been dragged into an alleyway in Silverside, held at gunpoint, gagged, and thrown into the back of an SUV. Then, dragged blind via bag over his head up fourteen flights of stairs to where he stood now, bag removed. The gag remained yet.
Ezra looked with slight distaste, before he gestured to his men. ”Would you mind removing that barbarous thing from his mouth. We’re all civilized people here.”
One of the men grabbed Adel gruffly, undid the gag, and yanked it out of his mouth. Then, the two mafiosos released Adel, took point at the now closed conference door, and stood at attention, pistols resting in their hands.
Ezra stared, fingers steepled together, before he gestured to the chairs. ”Pleass, have a seat. I know you're no fool to try using that precious Gyft of yours here.”
A chuckle. ”Of course, if you do, you give me all the reason in the world to try out my latest torture devices. So please, be my guest.”
His midnight face rippled, wisping edges curling in anticipation. He meant every word.
Ezra waited for Adel to get settled, before he continued to speak, his voice like silk. ”So I have a proposal for you. You'll be rewarded handsomely, no doubt. But you must realize I wouldn't take no for an answer for a task like this.”
He leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. ”I've been watching a piece on the board, a Matthias FitzClarence of the Order of Enlightenment. I want you to befriend him, and spy on his dealings for me. His movements, his motives, anything you can glean.
“Do this, and you'll be paid handsomely. Refuse? Well, you won't want to refuse…”
Ezra leaned back in his seat, spinning on the swivel slightly. He waited in anticipation for Adel's answer.
Adel: W +3 P +5
SporkoBug The Cosmic Engineer
Member
Seen
1 hr ago
The Blue Feather Revererers.
Harriet's Orphanage, Hamlet.
Interactions: @Estylwen
Harriet was dressed slightly heavier than she would normally be, she had to set a good standard for Calem and his friends as she visited one of her Orphanages. The children were all inside the heated buildings, some of them staying around her and playing with her feathers; enjoying their warmth as they did do.
Harriet was accompanied by two tall men, around 6 feet in height, in tailored black suits. Bodyguards, in a way; but never for her. She always brought the bodyguards with her when she was out with Calem, these men were close to her; she trained them in both fighting and how to look after her little boy. She installed the fear of what could happen to them if Calem was harmed in any way under their supervision; and Fossils forgive if Calem was stolen while in their care.
One of them moved to open the door at the knock, before motioning Harriet over. They returned to the kids as Harriet went to the door; offering Calem to the bodyguards as she was holding him. She stopped at the door and looked down to the teenagers with a small tilt of her head. Her feathered ears twitched carefully as she took in their features before one of them started to speak.
They were nervous, good, most people should be nervous when coming to see her.
The teenager called her a hero, she gave a small smile; making sure to hide her sharp teeth as she did so. She gave a small chuckle, "Oh, if only others thought the same." She said smoothly, before she tilted her head as the boys had news.
Harriets' ears flattened slightly before she motioned a hand to the bodyguards, moving to step outside to bring the teenagers out with her. "The kids shan't hear us out here, and if you are too cold; my wings will give warmth." She fanned her wings out and arched them around.
The teen boys would be able to huddle spaciously around Harriets' wings as they told her the news, whatever it would be.
She knew it wouldn't be good news, it never was good news. As was the life of a Mafia boss.
Gold Rim
Roof-tops
It was cold, but it never really bothered Webb.
He had managed to find a safe space on the rooftops, a nice spot to web up himself a little hammock to snooze inside.
But it was morning now, and the sun had made its lazy way into the air and woken the Cursed Spider awake after he tried to wriggle his way back into the darkness.
Sunlight meant he'd need to get up, get moving again. People would be up on the rooftop soon enough as well, either for work, or to find out what hid away on the cameras the night before.
He was admittedly running out of time to get out of there without someone noticing. Webb groggily popped his head from his caccooned hammock as he could feel movement nearby. Bah. He thought to himself, pulling himself out; getting his lower arms stuck for a moment before he moved to faceplant onto the concrete. Ow.
Webb managed to pull himself from his hammock, making a mental note to make the next one a bit bigger so this didn't happen again. But in order to be able to make another hammock he'd need to find some food to eat.
He twitched his abdomen, moving quickly to pull the hammock from where it hung. Luckily he'd be able to bunch it up into a carriable size, so he'd be able to 'recycle' it when he was somewhere... safer.
Webb moved to hold the now-bundled hammock-web in his lower arms before he scanned the area to find a safe place to go. His own ears twitched, he could hear footsteps now, the door to the roof seemed to shift as someone seemed to be unlocking the door.
Jump. He crouched, taking a step forward, tapping his spinnerets against the side of the building before he leapt over towards the nearest roof, creating a lay-line in case he miscalculated the jump and fell, luckily he hardly miscalculated, but it was early in the morning, so he wouldn't be too surprised.
It took a few more leaps until he felt safe enough to settle down, a gorgeous oak tree. He leaned against the trunk high up in the tree and started to chew on his old web. It wasn't going to be enough to keep him going, but it would keep the hunger away until he was able to get something to properly eat.
Possibly the neighborhood butcher was already open and would be happy to give him unsellable scraps. He'd take anything at this point.
1x Like
Emily Newport
EARLIER. . .
The cut of gasoline and burned rubber etched the streets of Ragged Gavel, the last car full of drugs in the area ran and ran as fast it could away from the Blood Blues.
"Shittttttttttttt can't this thing go faster mang!" Screeched the low-life skum that was dressed in gang colors, a scrap metal gat, and pumped up on whatever poor quality coke they had in their stash. Lead screamed out the window at the approaching patrol cruisers that stayed in tight pursuit, under the command of Detective Clash they knew taking over such a shit show district would net them some stipend. Lead came back hitting the old junker car, popping tires, and breaking windows the chase came to a halt when a SWAT truck barreled through an intersection and t-boned the car sending criminal goons and drugs flying all over the broken streets of Gavel.
Shortly after that, Emily got out of the truck as her thugs secured the scene and criminals, more low-ranking drug runners off to the cubes, stockades, and mega-prisons that encompassed Nocturnia underground. Her small hands wrapped around the packages, poorly duct taped, and stored cocaine and weed. A knife, steel poked its head out as she took out a sample of powder she dabbled it on her pink tongue which came out. Her taster registered less sweet but sour and bad product, the high was cheap and once again the Ragged Gavel lived up to its meek and timid name as a whimper in Nocturnia's ear rather than a lion's roar.
"Mmm... Impound this rust bucket, take them all to the station, and for their loot. You know what to do with it." Clash purrs, handing the packet of drugs to the nearest, easy-on-the-eyes street soldier of hers. As they wrapped up the takedown, she returned to the Jeweled Bank to meet with the Commissioner. Meetings were boring, but fortune favors the bold, and Emily was anything but a coward. Sitting in her NPD uniform, she was shortly chauffeured to the Commissioner's meeting.
Looking out the window she observed her new district, there was work to be done.
Blue Bloods attack and invade Ragged Gavel.NOW. . .
". . .I'll take her." a small hand, a paw one could say reached out to grab onto Isabella's file. She had read through them all, but not much interested her. They were too strong, mysterious or both and not having certainty was deadly for the princess of drugs. Gold Rim kept her fed, but it did not keep her happy. Her fingers traced around the dossier leaving the rest for Leo and Jack, a smile stretched across that perfect mouth of hers as she eyed the Commissioner.
"I can help you get this big bad drug dealer off the streets boss, I won't rough her up too much." It was a Cheshire smile, one that handcuffed the drug dealer and sold their supply. The biggest gang in the city was the NPD after all.
It felt good to be at the table, "Could use some more muscle, taking what's not mine can be hard sometimes."Clash lamented, the five foot-eight platinum blonde flicked off flecks of blood from her service stripes from earlier.
Blood would be spilled.
1x Like
GM
Estylwen The Villainess
Member
Seen
1 hr ago
A Block off Poppy Orphanage, Penny Stakes
Mentions: NA Interactions: Poppy and her mafia (@evierose)
”Quit struggling, you little punk!”
Four men surrounded a heaving and huffing red-haired boy. They had their hands on him, trying to drag him into the waiting jaws of the back of an SUV. The boy was fighting them off bravely, struggling hard.
A slice of air, and a glimmer of a golden aura. The boy, Noah, had struck one of the goons across his jaw, causing the man to stagger back. This only caused the other goons to become enraged, and one hit Noah right in the nose.
”Ugh-!” Noah growled, his eyes burning as he recoiled from the strike.
”Let me go, you losers!” He cried out, gasping between breaths. He wouldn't be able to resist them for long, running out of stamina like he was.
”Just shut up and get in the van!” One of the goons yelled, finally shoving Noah hard enough to knock him back into the van.
Down the street, at the gate to the Poppy Orphanage, a small girl was watching the entire ordeal. She started to point and scream.
”T-they got Noah! They got Noah!”
Poppy: W +1.5 P +5
Little Bird Caffeinated Lifeform
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Yellow Brick
Glyde
~Guns Are Good~
Mentions: Isabella Delacroix @Qia
"Transmission received from FOB. Supply drop inbound. ETA 10 minutes."
"Ten-Four. Ready to receive drop." Staff Sergeant Eren Glyde-Savion spoke dryly into his radio in stark contrast to the more lively tone of his communications technician. In his typical flatness, he clipped the device to the strap on his chest and purposefully made his way to the roof of the old NPD Headquarters. It had been close to a month since the previous drop, and it hadn't been too impressive. The pitiful rations had been consumed, and the 9mm pistols might have been from a Walmart with how quickly Glyde had manage to wear them out. His expectations for supplies and gear this time around were naturally at an all time low.
The one thing he could look forward to, if the rumors were true, was the prospect of a few extra boots on the ground. His team had been spread thin to begin with, and recent losses had left a dent in the already small number. Much of the squadron in the 93rd Street sector had been summarily butchered in a skirmish with the Iron Rose; the reports indicated Bella Delacroix had person stuck the blood knife into Glyde's former 2nd In Command James Barnes. The only solace was in knowing his operatives had dealt enough casualties to Iron Rose to dissuade them from brushing into 93rd Street any time soon.
If not for depleted numbers and lack of supplies, Glyde might have dropped the hammer of vengeance for Jimmy in Ivory Tower and Highfair right then and there. Even months removed from the battle the Staff Sergeant ruminated on whether or not he could have finished the job.
As it stood, revenge and open aggression weren't in the cards for Del Guarde. Not until the could tilt the situation in their favor.
Glyde kicked the old door to the rooftop open; a necessity given its weight and state if decay. He walked out under the dismal blanket of cloud cover, a breeze whipping at his jacket. In the distance the faint blur of a chopper cutting through the air greeted his arrival.
"ETA Five Minutes." The radio buzzed. Two soldiers followed Glyde onto the roof.
Glyde's hand drifted to the PDA at his hip. It was a simple device, consisting of a hand-sized keyboard a thin display screen that acted like a pager from back in the day. They weren't glamorous, but the fact that they operated on a closed network from cell towers and other communucation lines meant it was less likely that messages would be intercepted through hacking. His hand clasped around the device, waiting for the distinct vibration of an incoming message. Nothing. Sylvia should have reported by now.
The sound of propeller blades and rotors filled the sky. Glyde turned his attention up, and observed as the pair of crates floated down from the helicopter guarded by the extra hands he was promised. As the crate landed upon the rooftop, Glyde quickly pried it open and nearly gasped in shock. "A minigun? They sure as Hell stepped their game on this time around." He stood up and looked at the new recruits. "Get this inside. It doesn't leave this building until we find a new base." The soldiers soluted and carried the M134 down to the weapon vault.
As much as he wished he could unload it on the mafia right there, pulling out military grade weapons would out Del Guarde for what it was.
His hip buzzed. Knowing it was Sylvia, Glyde checked the message.
"Ten-Four. Ready to receive drop." Staff Sergeant Eren Glyde-Savion spoke dryly into his radio in stark contrast to the more lively tone of his communications technician. In his typical flatness, he clipped the device to the strap on his chest and purposefully made his way to the roof of the old NPD Headquarters. It had been close to a month since the previous drop, and it hadn't been too impressive. The pitiful rations had been consumed, and the 9mm pistols might have been from a Walmart with how quickly Glyde had manage to wear them out. His expectations for supplies and gear this time around were naturally at an all time low.
The one thing he could look forward to, if the rumors were true, was the prospect of a few extra boots on the ground. His team had been spread thin to begin with, and recent losses had left a dent in the already small number. Much of the squadron in the 93rd Street sector had been summarily butchered in a skirmish with the Iron Rose; the reports indicated Bella Delacroix had person stuck the blood knife into Glyde's former 2nd In Command James Barnes. The only solace was in knowing his operatives had dealt enough casualties to Iron Rose to dissuade them from brushing into 93rd Street any time soon.
If not for depleted numbers and lack of supplies, Glyde might have dropped the hammer of vengeance for Jimmy in Ivory Tower and Highfair right then and there. Even months removed from the battle the Staff Sergeant ruminated on whether or not he could have finished the job.
As it stood, revenge and open aggression weren't in the cards for Del Guarde. Not until the could tilt the situation in their favor.
Glyde kicked the old door to the rooftop open; a necessity given its weight and state if decay. He walked out under the dismal blanket of cloud cover, a breeze whipping at his jacket. In the distance the faint blur of a chopper cutting through the air greeted his arrival.
"ETA Five Minutes." The radio buzzed. Two soldiers followed Glyde onto the roof.
Glyde's hand drifted to the PDA at his hip. It was a simple device, consisting of a hand-sized keyboard a thin display screen that acted like a pager from back in the day. They weren't glamorous, but the fact that they operated on a closed network from cell towers and other communucation lines meant it was less likely that messages would be intercepted through hacking. His hand clasped around the device, waiting for the distinct vibration of an incoming message. Nothing. Sylvia should have reported by now.
The sound of propeller blades and rotors filled the sky. Glyde turned his attention up, and observed as the pair of crates floated down from the helicopter guarded by the extra hands he was promised. As the crate landed upon the rooftop, Glyde quickly pried it open and nearly gasped in shock. "A minigun? They sure as Hell stepped their game on this time around." He stood up and looked at the new recruits. "Get this inside. It doesn't leave this building until we find a new base." The soldiers soluted and carried the M134 down to the weapon vault.
As much as he wished he could unload it on the mafia right there, pulling out military grade weapons would out Del Guarde for what it was.
His hip buzzed. Knowing it was Sylvia, Glyde checked the message.
Nickel
Sylvia Madore
Mentions: Hailey Vagabond @Estylwen, Asterion Kairo @The Savant
~Recon is a Booming Business~
The clouds loomed over the upscale district into which Sylvia had ventured. The shades of gray detracted from what was normally quite a beautiful part of the city. The Del Guarde operative had long been perplexed as to how such a wealthy place could share borders with the rundown neighborhoods Glyde had managed to annex. The thought wasn't critical of Glyde, of course; it had been hard enough getting into the city in the first place. Going after a district such as Nickel would have required more man-and-fire power than the upper offices were willing to expend on their little fool's errand. Not to mention the act of dethroning the mafia in such a high profile sector would have clued the whole of Nocturnia in on the renewed interest the military had in their... unique situations.
Three years deep, Sylvia retained her vigilance, and was at least pleased that the Staff Sergeant was finally secure enough in his footing in Yellow Brick, 93rd, and Merryland to start making inroads to other parts of the city. Until recently, her talents and Gyft had been somewhat squandered in keeping tabs within her own districts. Now, however, she felt she was on a real mission, cutting into enemy territory.
Asterion Kairo, the mafia boss in Nickel was of suspect interest to Glyde. Buzz from around Merryland was that Kairo was eying a move into Del Guarde's land holding. Where exactly he planned on striking was still unknown; hence why Sylvia had been mobilized: to gather any intel, and, if possible, run interference to keep Asterion from making his move before Del Guarde was prepared.
When she passed in from Yellow Brick, Sylvia was already Cloaked, and moving swiftly through the crowds as to avoid any blatant contact; someone getting bumped by an unseen force would draw too much attention. She had found a safe spot down an alleyway close to a busy part of the District when a commotion cut the routine air of the gloomy day. A shout, a scream. The word "BOMB" was more than enough to press Sylvia closer to the street to witness the pink-clad girl hurling the explosive into a nearby building. Sylvia flipped on a descrete body-cam, barely picking up the flying bricks that followed the explosion.
She held her position as the second bomb demolished the facade of another building. The cackling laughter of the woman cut over horrified screams and pleas in between bomb blasts. The scene set alight as the girl set her attention on the cars, which errupted into flames like grim bonfires upon the pavement. Sylvia dug into a pocket and pulled out a small pair of binolculars... Pigtails... horns? She had seen some wierd things since she got into Nocturnia, but they had all been distinctly... human looking. She stashed the binoculars and replaced them with a device like a pocket-sized keyboard with a strip of a screen on the top. She rapidly typed out a page to Glyde.
Three years deep, Sylvia retained her vigilance, and was at least pleased that the Staff Sergeant was finally secure enough in his footing in Yellow Brick, 93rd, and Merryland to start making inroads to other parts of the city. Until recently, her talents and Gyft had been somewhat squandered in keeping tabs within her own districts. Now, however, she felt she was on a real mission, cutting into enemy territory.
Asterion Kairo, the mafia boss in Nickel was of suspect interest to Glyde. Buzz from around Merryland was that Kairo was eying a move into Del Guarde's land holding. Where exactly he planned on striking was still unknown; hence why Sylvia had been mobilized: to gather any intel, and, if possible, run interference to keep Asterion from making his move before Del Guarde was prepared.
When she passed in from Yellow Brick, Sylvia was already Cloaked, and moving swiftly through the crowds as to avoid any blatant contact; someone getting bumped by an unseen force would draw too much attention. She had found a safe spot down an alleyway close to a busy part of the District when a commotion cut the routine air of the gloomy day. A shout, a scream. The word "BOMB" was more than enough to press Sylvia closer to the street to witness the pink-clad girl hurling the explosive into a nearby building. Sylvia flipped on a descrete body-cam, barely picking up the flying bricks that followed the explosion.
She held her position as the second bomb demolished the facade of another building. The cackling laughter of the woman cut over horrified screams and pleas in between bomb blasts. The scene set alight as the girl set her attention on the cars, which errupted into flames like grim bonfires upon the pavement. Sylvia dug into a pocket and pulled out a small pair of binolculars... Pigtails... horns? She had seen some wierd things since she got into Nocturnia, but they had all been distinctly... human looking. She stashed the binoculars and replaced them with a device like a pocket-sized keyboard with a strip of a screen on the top. She rapidly typed out a page to Glyde.
Nickel under attack by third party. Pull back?
Negative. Hold in safe position. Report on further development.
Roger.
Glyde set the PDA back upon his hip. If Nickel was being attacked by a rogue party, that could buy him the time he needed. At brisker pace than before, Glyde returned to his command center. Things were starting get active now.
Lougham was a nice place. As nice as a borough of Nocturnia could be expected to be, at the very least. The view of it from Silverside was a pleasant one, and the suits that were lucky enough to work in an office by the river could get some glimpses of green in their day to day lives. The even luckier ones would cross the water at night, returning home after their shifts.
Adel had been getting more familiar with Lougham lately. He could see it from the top floor suites, or on the occasional walk down the riverside, and of course when he visited the area himself.
It was neutral territory, though for how much longer he didn’t know for sure. But he could hazard a guess.
The Silver Canary looked a little out of place there, but not enough to cause any alarm in its residents. He stood with his back to the building’s brick wall in well tailored shirt and trousers, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. His hair also hung loosely, trailing down his neck until it reached just below his shoulders. He and a couple of his men were waiting in what was quickly becoming ‘the usual spot.’
As it were, the usual spot was just the parking lot of a defunct Target. Even in a middle-income district like Lougham, it wasn’t as if businesses were immune to failure, especially franchises that have been practically cut off from the distribution centers that once supported them. Twenty years after the shut-down, it had become a fenced-off piece of property that no local developer had interest in touching yet. Made for a perfect meeting place for local and not-so-local gangs though.
As usual, however, neither the Silvery Canary nor the Order of Enlightenment knew how to dress for the part. While Adel showed up in a well-tailored suit, Matthias showed up with his entourage in robes of deep purple (that they had put on a couple blocks away; they weren’t so shameless as to wear such attire through public transit). Some kid in the neighbourhood thought that they were shadow wizards. Matthias had put on a bit of a show for them, but now, it was all business.
“Good day,” he spoke, his face in constant flux. “I see a couple new faces here. Bringing out new members for the experience, Adel?”
The man tipped his head to reciprocate the greeting. "Sure, you could say that."
It was pretty easy to tell which among Adel's men had been with him for a while. They were a mix of tailored clothes and hand me down jackets, showing who among them had stuck around long enough for their paychecks to start paying off. Some of these new faces were twisted in surprise by their first time ever meeting the man behind the Order of Enlightenment. It was also obvious that they were confused about how a person with no eyes could 'see' them. This would be good for them; if they wanted to survive in a city like this, let alone a business like this, they'd have to learn to expect the unexpected.
But speaking of business.
"So," Adel said, pushing off from the abandoned department store to stand up straight, respectfully giving Matthias and his group his full attention. "It hasn't been that long since the last time we did business. What do you have in mind now...?"
“Just goes to show how valuable your work is to a humble faith as mine.” Matthias tried for a smile, but it was trying to draw an image in a bucket of paint; it melted away before it could even form. “The Del Guarde. As far as my own have dug, there seems to be no…connection that they have to Nocturnia. I’d like you to look into them, Adel. Find out how connected they are to the Commissioner. Though I suppose, failing that, all I truly need to know is what their next step will be.”
For a moment Adel appeared to be considering the request. He always let a small stretch of silence linger after something like this was asked of him, taking the time to study his business partners and parse their intent. Searching the other man's face was practically impossible (Or, maybe he just hadn't learned how to read signs in the smoke), so Adel's soft brown eyes flicked over the cult leader's shoulders, his hands, even down to his shoes, reading his body language instead.
Del Guarde. They were definitely an anomaly among the police in Nocturnia. Of course with the various stations throughout the city there were precincts bordering on militant, but then there were these guys. It was weird, to say the least. To be honest Adel had been curious about them too, ever since they had established themselves a couple years ago.
"Getting skittish with them so close by?" Adel said, bringing his cigarette up to his lips and motioning for one of his men to approach. If the rumors about the Order's own growth were to be believed, it made sense to want to learn about Del Guarde. One slip up and the whole unit could come flooding into Riverbend. Maybe even without a slip up, with the way things had been going lately.
A skinny man with a stubbled chin handed Adel a small notepad and a pen. Before writing anything his gaze went back to the shifting haze where Matthias' face would be. Clearly he expected an answer to his casual question.
“Skittish is one way to describe it.” Matthias shrugged. There was a stiffness to his gestures, but perhaps that was more owing to the fact that as the leader of a religion, he had to present himself in a particular way no matter the situation. “Another way to describe it would be that I would like to be…neighbourly with them.”
Neighborly, huh? Adel didn't quite trust that. Then again he didn't trust much of anything. Still, as far as questionable groups in the city went there were far worse than the Order of Enlightenment at the moment. And in the interest of being neighborly himself, he'd keep doing business with them.
"I can get you the information," the Canary promised. He scribbled a number onto the paper and tore it from the pad, pinching the page in half before offering it to Matthias. His price.
If Matthias had brows to lift, he would have.
“Your competitors charge a quarter of that, normally.” Though, of course, there was only one that came in mind as an actual competitor of the Silver Canary. “Explain?”
"My 'competitors' are also a quarter as effective," came the retort. Adel didn't deign to curl his fingers into air quotes, but they were obvious enough in his voice even as he spoke around the stick in his mouth.
"I can find out what their captain's relationship is to Commissioner Franchesca and how good his standing is. I'll see what they're planning, what they've already got planned. If you really want to get to know them, show up at their door with a jello mold like a good neighbor, I'll even tell you if they've got the doorbell booby trapped."
Adel inhaled, drawing the tobacco smoke in. He didn't think he needed to point out that something was brewing within the city, and the cost was indicative of growing risk. And, privately, maybe Adel thought he could get away with squeezing the cult a little bit. But he was open to the little song and dance of negotiation at the moment.
He tucked the notepad into his breast pocket, taking his cigarette between his fingers once more. "You know my information's good. Hasn't failed you before, has it?"
“It defeats the purpose of gaining information if I’m incapable of acting upon it.” Regardless of how zealous his most loyal followers were, in the end, bullets and medicine both cost money. And with coffers emptied out, one could hardly be expected to even defend themselves. Far too many mafias have ended up in that situation, spending recklessly in pursuit of a great gain, only to be struck from behind by an adversary. Matthias watched as the cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Then, he spoke, raising a finger.
“Your information is good, Adel. Let’s cut a deal to make it better, instead of concerning ourselves with material exchange.” The prophet made a gesture towards the southwest. “For info on the Del Guarde’s planned activities and relationship with the broader force, I will give you free passage through Waterfront Vale for one month, for information gathering, whether personal or business.”
Now that was enticing... not that anything but indifference shown on Adel's face. Unfortunately, they happened to live in a world of material exchange.
"That's generous. But you understand we can't exactly do work without pay, Matthias." There was insurance to buy, palms to grease. "Hm. You give me that Vale access, I'll cut the price in half."
“Halved price, paid over two weekly installments, starting from next week.” The Lodestar folded his arms. “These are delicate times, Adel. After the last city-wide conflict, all factions have been scrambling to rebuild their coffers.”
It was at times like these that Matthias wished he still had a face. He could maybe fake a smile, or incline his head. With the distorted smoke that made up his head though, any of those motions could just be mistaken for a slight change in the wind.
“Of course, if you insist on an immediate payment for services rendered, we can revisit this deal next week.”
"Jeez, you trying to make me look bad in front of my newbies? I need part of it upfront. I'll collect the other portion after two weeks when I deliver."
The brunette shrugged one shoulder, a gesture of 'take it or leave it.'
“Then we shall revisit this at another time.”
Matthias turned to leave, only to stop and ask, “I suppose an email would suffice for that, Adel?”
The Silver Canary didn't look the least bit put out with how the meeting had turned out. You win some and you lose some. But there was the slightest amused quirk of his lips. "Sure, Matthias."
With business, or lack there of concluded, he glanced at the group he'd brought along and did a short tip of his head. It was back across the river, until next time.
"Keep in touch."
Adel had been getting more familiar with Lougham lately. He could see it from the top floor suites, or on the occasional walk down the riverside, and of course when he visited the area himself.
It was neutral territory, though for how much longer he didn’t know for sure. But he could hazard a guess.
The Silver Canary looked a little out of place there, but not enough to cause any alarm in its residents. He stood with his back to the building’s brick wall in well tailored shirt and trousers, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. His hair also hung loosely, trailing down his neck until it reached just below his shoulders. He and a couple of his men were waiting in what was quickly becoming ‘the usual spot.’
As it were, the usual spot was just the parking lot of a defunct Target. Even in a middle-income district like Lougham, it wasn’t as if businesses were immune to failure, especially franchises that have been practically cut off from the distribution centers that once supported them. Twenty years after the shut-down, it had become a fenced-off piece of property that no local developer had interest in touching yet. Made for a perfect meeting place for local and not-so-local gangs though.
As usual, however, neither the Silvery Canary nor the Order of Enlightenment knew how to dress for the part. While Adel showed up in a well-tailored suit, Matthias showed up with his entourage in robes of deep purple (that they had put on a couple blocks away; they weren’t so shameless as to wear such attire through public transit). Some kid in the neighbourhood thought that they were shadow wizards. Matthias had put on a bit of a show for them, but now, it was all business.
“Good day,” he spoke, his face in constant flux. “I see a couple new faces here. Bringing out new members for the experience, Adel?”
The man tipped his head to reciprocate the greeting. "Sure, you could say that."
It was pretty easy to tell which among Adel's men had been with him for a while. They were a mix of tailored clothes and hand me down jackets, showing who among them had stuck around long enough for their paychecks to start paying off. Some of these new faces were twisted in surprise by their first time ever meeting the man behind the Order of Enlightenment. It was also obvious that they were confused about how a person with no eyes could 'see' them. This would be good for them; if they wanted to survive in a city like this, let alone a business like this, they'd have to learn to expect the unexpected.
But speaking of business.
"So," Adel said, pushing off from the abandoned department store to stand up straight, respectfully giving Matthias and his group his full attention. "It hasn't been that long since the last time we did business. What do you have in mind now...?"
“Just goes to show how valuable your work is to a humble faith as mine.” Matthias tried for a smile, but it was trying to draw an image in a bucket of paint; it melted away before it could even form. “The Del Guarde. As far as my own have dug, there seems to be no…connection that they have to Nocturnia. I’d like you to look into them, Adel. Find out how connected they are to the Commissioner. Though I suppose, failing that, all I truly need to know is what their next step will be.”
For a moment Adel appeared to be considering the request. He always let a small stretch of silence linger after something like this was asked of him, taking the time to study his business partners and parse their intent. Searching the other man's face was practically impossible (Or, maybe he just hadn't learned how to read signs in the smoke), so Adel's soft brown eyes flicked over the cult leader's shoulders, his hands, even down to his shoes, reading his body language instead.
Del Guarde. They were definitely an anomaly among the police in Nocturnia. Of course with the various stations throughout the city there were precincts bordering on militant, but then there were these guys. It was weird, to say the least. To be honest Adel had been curious about them too, ever since they had established themselves a couple years ago.
"Getting skittish with them so close by?" Adel said, bringing his cigarette up to his lips and motioning for one of his men to approach. If the rumors about the Order's own growth were to be believed, it made sense to want to learn about Del Guarde. One slip up and the whole unit could come flooding into Riverbend. Maybe even without a slip up, with the way things had been going lately.
A skinny man with a stubbled chin handed Adel a small notepad and a pen. Before writing anything his gaze went back to the shifting haze where Matthias' face would be. Clearly he expected an answer to his casual question.
“Skittish is one way to describe it.” Matthias shrugged. There was a stiffness to his gestures, but perhaps that was more owing to the fact that as the leader of a religion, he had to present himself in a particular way no matter the situation. “Another way to describe it would be that I would like to be…neighbourly with them.”
Neighborly, huh? Adel didn't quite trust that. Then again he didn't trust much of anything. Still, as far as questionable groups in the city went there were far worse than the Order of Enlightenment at the moment. And in the interest of being neighborly himself, he'd keep doing business with them.
"I can get you the information," the Canary promised. He scribbled a number onto the paper and tore it from the pad, pinching the page in half before offering it to Matthias. His price.
If Matthias had brows to lift, he would have.
“Your competitors charge a quarter of that, normally.” Though, of course, there was only one that came in mind as an actual competitor of the Silver Canary. “Explain?”
"My 'competitors' are also a quarter as effective," came the retort. Adel didn't deign to curl his fingers into air quotes, but they were obvious enough in his voice even as he spoke around the stick in his mouth.
"I can find out what their captain's relationship is to Commissioner Franchesca and how good his standing is. I'll see what they're planning, what they've already got planned. If you really want to get to know them, show up at their door with a jello mold like a good neighbor, I'll even tell you if they've got the doorbell booby trapped."
Adel inhaled, drawing the tobacco smoke in. He didn't think he needed to point out that something was brewing within the city, and the cost was indicative of growing risk. And, privately, maybe Adel thought he could get away with squeezing the cult a little bit. But he was open to the little song and dance of negotiation at the moment.
He tucked the notepad into his breast pocket, taking his cigarette between his fingers once more. "You know my information's good. Hasn't failed you before, has it?"
“It defeats the purpose of gaining information if I’m incapable of acting upon it.” Regardless of how zealous his most loyal followers were, in the end, bullets and medicine both cost money. And with coffers emptied out, one could hardly be expected to even defend themselves. Far too many mafias have ended up in that situation, spending recklessly in pursuit of a great gain, only to be struck from behind by an adversary. Matthias watched as the cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Then, he spoke, raising a finger.
“Your information is good, Adel. Let’s cut a deal to make it better, instead of concerning ourselves with material exchange.” The prophet made a gesture towards the southwest. “For info on the Del Guarde’s planned activities and relationship with the broader force, I will give you free passage through Waterfront Vale for one month, for information gathering, whether personal or business.”
Now that was enticing... not that anything but indifference shown on Adel's face. Unfortunately, they happened to live in a world of material exchange.
"That's generous. But you understand we can't exactly do work without pay, Matthias." There was insurance to buy, palms to grease. "Hm. You give me that Vale access, I'll cut the price in half."
“Halved price, paid over two weekly installments, starting from next week.” The Lodestar folded his arms. “These are delicate times, Adel. After the last city-wide conflict, all factions have been scrambling to rebuild their coffers.”
It was at times like these that Matthias wished he still had a face. He could maybe fake a smile, or incline his head. With the distorted smoke that made up his head though, any of those motions could just be mistaken for a slight change in the wind.
“Of course, if you insist on an immediate payment for services rendered, we can revisit this deal next week.”
"Jeez, you trying to make me look bad in front of my newbies? I need part of it upfront. I'll collect the other portion after two weeks when I deliver."
The brunette shrugged one shoulder, a gesture of 'take it or leave it.'
“Then we shall revisit this at another time.”
Matthias turned to leave, only to stop and ask, “I suppose an email would suffice for that, Adel?”
The Silver Canary didn't look the least bit put out with how the meeting had turned out. You win some and you lose some. But there was the slightest amused quirk of his lips. "Sure, Matthias."
With business, or lack there of concluded, he glanced at the group he'd brought along and did a short tip of his head. It was back across the river, until next time.
"Keep in touch."
It was in the late afternoon that Asterion received a letter stamped by the symbol of the Order of Enlightenment, delivered to him from an employee of Kairo Skyscraper. In it was a simple QR Code that, upon inspection would lead to a private teleconferencing room, one that would open up in two days.
Samuel handed the letter over to him with a silent curiosity in his eyes which caused Asterion to stare at him for a few extra seconds. They were connected by a piece of paper that was stamped by the symbol of the Order of Enlightenment — Matthias FitzClarence. “Is there something you need to tell me before you let go of this letter?” the man inquired without hesitation or breaking eye contact with the scrawny teenager who an older employee pleaded for him to take in. Something about his sister’s son needing a job or a good recommendation.
“N-no, sir. I…” the young man seemed to stutter with his words trying to figure out how to explain everything. “Some random person gave this to me on my way into work,” Samuel stated nervously as if he was already getting in trouble.
Asterion seemed to cautiously take the letter from him and inspect the letter more, especially the symbol that sealed it. “Thank you, Samuel,” he let out while he twirled the letter a few times to determine if it was trapped or not. Was there that icky white substance waiting for him that would kill him on inhalation? One wouldn’t know until the letter was open. His stormy blue eyes wandered up to Samuel again who was not leaving his office.
The man cleared his throat a little and sighed again, “I said thank you, Samuel.”
Samuel’s face turned to one of embarrassment that was clouded by a blush, “Oh! That means you want me to leave, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, please.”
He watched the teenager almost too quickly leave his office and he shook his head. The young man had only been working there for a week and he couldn’t tell if he was an idiot or ignorant to silent communication. There was definitely an aura of the kid not being able to read a room. Once the door of the office shut and clicked close, he whispered to himself, “He will not last long unless he starts learning.”
Opening the letter to discover a QR-code, his brows furrowed, and he brought out a mobile device to scan it. This mobile device hooked up to his computer and it brought him to the teleconferencing room which had a countdown… 2:00:00:00. The page fully loaded and started counting down. 1:23:59:43.
A smirk appeared on Asterion’s lips, “I will see you in two days, Matthias FitzClarence.”
On that day, on that hour, on that minute, on that second, Asterion entered the call once more to be greeted by a headless individual, dressed in a three-piece suit. A virtual background showed what looked to be a cozy, European cafe, but this certainly was no book club that he was attending.
“Asterion, I presume?” The headless man spoke, the background rippling as if a mirage. “I apologize for my unconventional appearance; the app seems to think my head is to be filtered out.”
Asterion’s face twisted as he held back a sarcastic comment with a forced, “Mhm…” to answer the other man. Forcing all the half-jokes that he might be the only one finding anything humorous about his words. “I have seen worse,” he decided to go with something neutral instead of making a comment about the man’s appearance. It might be a soft spot since he brought it up first.
“Is it safe to assume that you are Matthias?”
“Quite safe.”
There was the pretense of contemplation. It was only pretense. Others may have ways of exchanging pleasantries, or of manipulating the direction of a conversation via subliminal charm, but Matthias simply plowed ahead instead. If there was something that needed to be said, it would be said. And in this particular case…
“You’ve heard of the plane overhead, yes? Nocturnia has been designated as a no-fly zone for civilian and passenger aircraft for a while now, owing to the Gyfts present. And despite that, aircraft flew overhead nonetheless. From the Riverbend, the Order spotted packages being airdropped into Yellow Brick; I’m certain that your men would have spotted the same.” Matthias gestured with both hands, one raised while the other lowered. “The Commissioner herself does not receive such support from the outside world, yet they’ve deigned to do so for the Del Guarde. As such, I’m here to offer an alliance, Asterion.”
He clasped his hands together.
“You take 93rd. I take Pauper Town. And together, we rid Nocturnia of these outsiders within a fortnight.” Matthias looked towards the camera…but of course, his determined gaze didn’t show up on the screen. “Does this sound agreeable?”
Asterion listened to the other man through the somewhat fuzzy-audio that was happening and he pushed down a sigh that wanted to come out. His technology wasn’t fully updated but it wasn’t old either — he had a lack of interest in technology for the most part, to say the least. Everything was heard which was the important part and a shrug of his shoulders happened, “I think more than just my men saw it. Civilians too,” he added on. “I bet a handful of other crimelords have noticed it as well and it has probably caught the attention of most.”
“Before I accept anything, is that all? We team up, we get what we want, and then what of it afterwards? Are we still having a penny or two in each other’s slots or?” Asterion wanted to answer before anything. More than not, he wanted to see the reaction of the man, as he asked that question. Did Matthias think that far into the future? Did he plan on dropping him like a newborn calf when he got what he wanted? How short was this alliance going to be or how fueled could that make it and make it last?
“I’ve no interest in competing over Heavy Crossguard, if that’s what you were wondering about,” Matthias replied. “And as for broader details, hrm…yes.”
He opened his hands once more, a guide offering passage for the restless soul.
“It’s a troublesome situation to find ourselves in, no? After the last city-wide ‘incident’, all noteworthy factions within Nocturnia have practically emptied their coffers, and we’re only now rebuilding. But while legitimate businesses such as ours must compete with our own, the police are free to share and pool resources, safe in the understanding that they are on the same side. The Commissioner keeps a type grip on her leash, after all.” Not that it was a bad thing, all things considered. Open warfare and rampant crime was just as unpleasant as a fully-realized police state. It was better that things were perpetually simmering, not boiling over. “If this temporary alliance goes well, I suppose we’ll become neighbours. And if that happens, I wouldn’t mind sharing with a neighbour if it means a pig will bleed.”
Asterion shrugged his shoulders with Matthias’s reply, “I’m not interested in Heavy Crossguard,” he confessed, since it was not something on his radar for the moment. It wasn’t something that was in his immediate future’s aim.
“Then that settles it, I am always up to give a cup of sugar to a neighbor,” Asteiron chuckled. That was when someone busted through his office door and his eyes got serious and locked onto whoever was behind the camera of the computer.
Boss, there is a crazy fucking bitch blowing shit up down the street. She looks like a twisted cartoon character,” the unknown man stated.
Asterion rolled his eyes and put his face into his hand for a moment as if he was inconvenienced more than anything. “Fine. I’ll take care of it,” The dark haired man on the camera looked up and with an overwhelming flash, the flash died down, and all the life in the body that was on that side of the camera looked non-existent. There was nothing in that body anymore as it slumped over in the chair and when the head flopped to the lower shoulder, its eyes were white, and lifeless. No soul.
The man with the nameless crew was gone.
Samuel handed the letter over to him with a silent curiosity in his eyes which caused Asterion to stare at him for a few extra seconds. They were connected by a piece of paper that was stamped by the symbol of the Order of Enlightenment — Matthias FitzClarence. “Is there something you need to tell me before you let go of this letter?” the man inquired without hesitation or breaking eye contact with the scrawny teenager who an older employee pleaded for him to take in. Something about his sister’s son needing a job or a good recommendation.
“N-no, sir. I…” the young man seemed to stutter with his words trying to figure out how to explain everything. “Some random person gave this to me on my way into work,” Samuel stated nervously as if he was already getting in trouble.
Asterion seemed to cautiously take the letter from him and inspect the letter more, especially the symbol that sealed it. “Thank you, Samuel,” he let out while he twirled the letter a few times to determine if it was trapped or not. Was there that icky white substance waiting for him that would kill him on inhalation? One wouldn’t know until the letter was open. His stormy blue eyes wandered up to Samuel again who was not leaving his office.
The man cleared his throat a little and sighed again, “I said thank you, Samuel.”
Samuel’s face turned to one of embarrassment that was clouded by a blush, “Oh! That means you want me to leave, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, please.”
He watched the teenager almost too quickly leave his office and he shook his head. The young man had only been working there for a week and he couldn’t tell if he was an idiot or ignorant to silent communication. There was definitely an aura of the kid not being able to read a room. Once the door of the office shut and clicked close, he whispered to himself, “He will not last long unless he starts learning.”
Opening the letter to discover a QR-code, his brows furrowed, and he brought out a mobile device to scan it. This mobile device hooked up to his computer and it brought him to the teleconferencing room which had a countdown… 2:00:00:00. The page fully loaded and started counting down. 1:23:59:43.
A smirk appeared on Asterion’s lips, “I will see you in two days, Matthias FitzClarence.”
On that day, on that hour, on that minute, on that second, Asterion entered the call once more to be greeted by a headless individual, dressed in a three-piece suit. A virtual background showed what looked to be a cozy, European cafe, but this certainly was no book club that he was attending.
“Asterion, I presume?” The headless man spoke, the background rippling as if a mirage. “I apologize for my unconventional appearance; the app seems to think my head is to be filtered out.”
Asterion’s face twisted as he held back a sarcastic comment with a forced, “Mhm…” to answer the other man. Forcing all the half-jokes that he might be the only one finding anything humorous about his words. “I have seen worse,” he decided to go with something neutral instead of making a comment about the man’s appearance. It might be a soft spot since he brought it up first.
“Is it safe to assume that you are Matthias?”
“Quite safe.”
There was the pretense of contemplation. It was only pretense. Others may have ways of exchanging pleasantries, or of manipulating the direction of a conversation via subliminal charm, but Matthias simply plowed ahead instead. If there was something that needed to be said, it would be said. And in this particular case…
“You’ve heard of the plane overhead, yes? Nocturnia has been designated as a no-fly zone for civilian and passenger aircraft for a while now, owing to the Gyfts present. And despite that, aircraft flew overhead nonetheless. From the Riverbend, the Order spotted packages being airdropped into Yellow Brick; I’m certain that your men would have spotted the same.” Matthias gestured with both hands, one raised while the other lowered. “The Commissioner herself does not receive such support from the outside world, yet they’ve deigned to do so for the Del Guarde. As such, I’m here to offer an alliance, Asterion.”
He clasped his hands together.
“You take 93rd. I take Pauper Town. And together, we rid Nocturnia of these outsiders within a fortnight.” Matthias looked towards the camera…but of course, his determined gaze didn’t show up on the screen. “Does this sound agreeable?”
Asterion listened to the other man through the somewhat fuzzy-audio that was happening and he pushed down a sigh that wanted to come out. His technology wasn’t fully updated but it wasn’t old either — he had a lack of interest in technology for the most part, to say the least. Everything was heard which was the important part and a shrug of his shoulders happened, “I think more than just my men saw it. Civilians too,” he added on. “I bet a handful of other crimelords have noticed it as well and it has probably caught the attention of most.”
“Before I accept anything, is that all? We team up, we get what we want, and then what of it afterwards? Are we still having a penny or two in each other’s slots or?” Asterion wanted to answer before anything. More than not, he wanted to see the reaction of the man, as he asked that question. Did Matthias think that far into the future? Did he plan on dropping him like a newborn calf when he got what he wanted? How short was this alliance going to be or how fueled could that make it and make it last?
“I’ve no interest in competing over Heavy Crossguard, if that’s what you were wondering about,” Matthias replied. “And as for broader details, hrm…yes.”
He opened his hands once more, a guide offering passage for the restless soul.
“It’s a troublesome situation to find ourselves in, no? After the last city-wide ‘incident’, all noteworthy factions within Nocturnia have practically emptied their coffers, and we’re only now rebuilding. But while legitimate businesses such as ours must compete with our own, the police are free to share and pool resources, safe in the understanding that they are on the same side. The Commissioner keeps a type grip on her leash, after all.” Not that it was a bad thing, all things considered. Open warfare and rampant crime was just as unpleasant as a fully-realized police state. It was better that things were perpetually simmering, not boiling over. “If this temporary alliance goes well, I suppose we’ll become neighbours. And if that happens, I wouldn’t mind sharing with a neighbour if it means a pig will bleed.”
Asterion shrugged his shoulders with Matthias’s reply, “I’m not interested in Heavy Crossguard,” he confessed, since it was not something on his radar for the moment. It wasn’t something that was in his immediate future’s aim.
“Then that settles it, I am always up to give a cup of sugar to a neighbor,” Asteiron chuckled. That was when someone busted through his office door and his eyes got serious and locked onto whoever was behind the camera of the computer.
Boss, there is a crazy fucking bitch blowing shit up down the street. She looks like a twisted cartoon character,” the unknown man stated.
Asterion rolled his eyes and put his face into his hand for a moment as if he was inconvenienced more than anything. “Fine. I’ll take care of it,” The dark haired man on the camera looked up and with an overwhelming flash, the flash died down, and all the life in the body that was on that side of the camera looked non-existent. There was nothing in that body anymore as it slumped over in the chair and when the head flopped to the lower shoulder, its eyes were white, and lifeless. No soul.
The man with the nameless crew was gone.
“Ughhhhhhh.”
With a drawn-out groan, Matthias closed the laptop and finally allowed himself to slouch against his chair, his body sliding, sliding, sliding until he laid with his body flat against the seat, his head ‘pressed’ into a flat, wide stream of smoke against the backrest. If he could wipe the sweat off his forehead, he would, but he settled for rubbing his hands against his trousers instead. Sleep no longer came to him, and Matthias didn’t even feel tired the same way others with flesh-brains may have, but the work of staying on top of everything nevertheless took a particular mental toll. The deal with the Silver Canaries fell through, while he felt like he signed a deal with the Devil in Cyrus, and though Asterion was willing to collaborate, those were nevertheless just words in the end, with no guarantee. Meanwhile, the Del Guarde weren’t prevented from being a buncha scary spooks armed to the teeth with outside weaponry, and the Police Commissioner was personally asking for his head so he couldn’t even take it easy and gradually plan out the takeover of Pauper Town. It was like juggling slippery ice cubes that also contained explosives that triggered on impact so if you dropped them you blew up. The work was endless and the work was tricky.
And he had to figure out how to keep the newcomers in line as well! God, if he could enjoy one day without having to worry about his congregation selling their kidneys or testicles to scrounge up funds for the Order, that’d be just lovely, but of course they were still insistent on building their own Library of Alexandria rather than getting a throwaway laptop and going to freetextbooksxxx.com.
Matthias flopped around a bit more, more like a fish than a human being, until he finally fell off his chair altogether, hitting the ground with a deflated ‘whump’. Humans fulfilled basic needs as a form of handling stress, but him? He couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink, and couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t fuck either; felt like any move in that direction would either turn him into an actual sex-addict cult leader or get himself stabbed by his congregation for falling to base monkey desires. Best he could do was crash on the couch and zone out scrolling through social media for a couple hours, but…
“Alright.” He pinched his arm, giving it a bit of a twist. Couldn't slap his face to get his head together, after all “Get your head in the game, buddy-boo. Just gotta call ‘em up, tell ‘em it’s-a-go, and catch a ride to Waterfront Vale.”
After all, it was something he would have done, even if Cyrus didn’t tell him what laid within, even if Adel had presented information that was concerning, even if Asterion didn’t see how their goals would align. He had prepared for it already.
They would take Pauper Town, either with faith or with force.
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Yankee God of Typos
Member
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6 hrs ago
Slateside Tower, Penny Stakes
Tuesday, November 1stMentions: Matthias, Del Guarde || Interactions: Ezra (@Estylwen)
Ah, being taken prisoner and having his life threatened in Penny Stakes. How nostalgic.
What Adel found funny was that they'd shoved his head into a bag presumably so that he wouldn't know where he was being taken or who he was dealing with, only to let him see everything once he'd arrived. Did they really think he wouldn't recognize the landscape from behind these windows? As an intimidation tactic it fell flat on him. Though to be fair, the reveal of his generous 'host' was far more effective.
Fuck, was Adel's immediate thought, though he carefully kept his face as neutral as possible.
Out of all of the groups in the city, it just had to be them. Had to be him.
Since their one and only prior meeting -which had ended very poorly- Adel had gone well out of his way to steer clear of Blackheart and his Dark Aces. With the storm brewing within Nocturnia, Adel must have let his guard down. Stupid, he berated himself. The Dark Aces were the kind of mafia that were the worst to deal with. They were illusive, destructive, and instead of money or influence their only goal seemed to be pure terrorization... at least, until now it seemed.
Adel didn't react to the mobsters pulling the gag from his mouth besides to click his teeth shut once it was gone. And when invited to sit he did so, striding across the room towards the offered seat like he wasn't on edge. Unless he got really creative, he probably couldn't get out of here using his gyft alone. Ezra himself seemed a sadist who coveted said gyft, and the Canary knew he meant what he said.
There were a few things Adel figured this could be about. If Blackheart was going to try 'recruit' him again the man was going to get a big fat fuck no even if led to a fight. Thankfully he seemed to have other things in mind. Adel listened somewhat impatiently, wanting this whole thing to be over with as soon as possible. Once Blackheart finished saying his piece, Adel stared back at him in mild surprise.
Matthias FitzClarence? It had barely been three days since Adel had met with the man, and the both of them had left each other empty handed. Adel could almost laugh - Ezra's timing could not have been worse. However, the request did pique his curiosity in spite of the way it was being forced upon him. First the police were planning to make a move on the Order, and now Ezra was interested in them as well. If the former had caught wind of Matthias' plans involving Del Guarde it wouldn't be a surprise that they'd take preemptive measures, if it turned out Del Guarde actually was some super police faction. But what the Dark Aces were after regarding the Order, Adel didn't have a clue.
And he hated that. Information was his business, after all.
He pretended to consider Ezra's proposal to give himself more time to think. Silence dragged out long enough for the armed men at the back of the room to get antsy, and it wasn't until then that Adel finally spoke.
"You know, I do have office hours," he said, despite both of them knowing Adel would turn the man away at any official attempts to meet. Hence the kidnapping. Unfortunately for Adel if he didn't want to end up losing a lot of blood anytime soon, he really only had one option.
The Silver Canary put on a show of masking his nerves with a long suffering sigh, like this whole ordeal was only an inconvenience to him. "Fine. Not like you're giving me much of a choice, right?"
For a long time now Adel's survival instincts were focused around making himself useful. The more useful meant the more valuable, and valuable meant indispensable. Ergo, his life would be safe. So that was what he would continue to do. If Ezra wanted information about the Order of Enlightment's leader, he'd get it - at least until Adel could dig up more about Ezra himself, something he could use to get the man out of his hair.
But as usual, the present business would come first. Even under threat of violence, business always came first.
The underside of Ezra's single, glowing eye creased - a hint of a smirk.
"Then we have an accord. I'll expect a report in seven days, Mr. Dawson. I'm certain you will not disappoint me."
And he gestured to the men, where one hauled Adel to his feet, the other placed the bag over his head again, and they escorted him from the room.
Back in Silverside
Tuesday, November 1stMentions: Order of Enlightenment, Omakase, Antonia || Interactions: none
It wasn't long after that Adel found himself on the side of the road at the edge of the Penny Stakes district, his agency and mobility returned to him. The mafiosos had been gracious hosts, even returning his cellphone to him.
"And my piece?" Adel groused. Thankfully they returned that too before taking off.
The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. And again. And then more forcefully, roughly mussing up his locks. I should get a body guard, he mused.
It was a long walk back to his unofficial, official office in Silverside. Not that he made it - he called a taxi. On paper it was a legitimate business, and truth be told in reality it was too, but Adel and his crew really relied on their information network to make money. They were small but effective, and once Adel walked in and made it past the lobby people were eager to tell him all kinds of things. Apparently this random Tuesday had been an exciting one for a lot of people, not just him.
"Get into contact with Omakase," he said, pointing to single out the first 'employee' he spotted. The short woman chirped an affirmative and scurried off to do so as Adel turned his sharp gaze to a man nearby. "Call the church, set up another meeting. In person preferably but doesn't matter, just for the love of God do not make us sound desperate."
"Right," the man replied, though after a moment's hesitation asked, "...what church?"
Small and effective most of the time, anyway. They did still have their share of new hands and even then sometimes Adel really felt like he was the only person with half a brain in his little organization. He closed his eyes, breathed in, and then out. To this day he preferred to do things himself, but at the moment he had other pressing matters. He opened his eyes and fixed the man with an unimpressed stare. "Never mind. Go find someone smarter than you and tell them what I told you instead."
While his people reached out to the groups in the districts adjacent to them, Adel himself swept into his private office. Minutes later he re-emerged in new clothes and combed hair, with a pair of glasses upon his nose. He rounded up a chauffeur and then was off to Jeweled Bank. He was going to try and meet with Commissioner Franchesca, appointments be damned. He needed to confirm a few things, and if he was going to have to go crawling back to the Order of Enlightenment so soon he might as well take a bargaining chip with him.
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Qia A Little Weasel
Member
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0-24 hrs ago
Unknown Location, White Pine
Mentions: Asterion (@The Savant) Interactions: Vincent (@Estylwen)
Isabella’s eyelids opened and closed like the wings of a restless butterfly, each blink uncertain and shaky as the world turned in a dizzying swirl around her. Overhead, the flickering light hung, expanding and squeezing with each breath she took while the air around her smelled with the sharpness of blood. Her blood.
Her breath hitched as she adjusted to the dizziness, Isabella’s head tipping forward slightly before she forced herself upright. Slowly, her crimson gaze roamed the room, taking in the shadowy figures at the edges, the glint of rifle barrels trained on her, and the polished shoes of the man who now stood before her. Bound to the chair like a fallen queen, with crimson droplets seeping from her veins and her midnight-black hair cascading around her shoulders in wild disarray, she centred herself by breathing deeply before finally looking up.
“Vincent,” the woman cooed, her voice as smooth as silk despite her predicament, “You certainly have a way of making a girl feel special. I must admit, it has me a bit…. breathless.” A playful grin danced across her lips.
Isabella’s eyes then wandered over the cold metal tubes that drained her life’s essence, her smile growing. “Though I must admit, the décor leaves much to be desired. Perhaps a bouquet of roses would liven things up? Or would that be too on the nose?”
Isabella tilted her head back against the chair, her long, delicate neck exposed, trying to appear casual as if she were simply admiring the ceiling. “So, you want me to play the villain and bring down Kairo, and in exchange... what do I get? A simple promise that we’ll be 'even'? Oh, how incredibly generous of you!” Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm, each word rolling off her tongue like honey, sweet and intoxicating but also laced with a bitter tang.
In an instant, her bright smile evaporated, however, leaving behind a cold gaze.
“Darling,” she purred, her voice dripping with sweet menace, “I didn’t scrabble and scrape my way to the pinnacle of Nocturnia’s shadowy empire just to hand out favours like candy at some parade. Especially not for men who naively think that tying me up and draining me is a clever way to cut a deal. I crave something far richer than a mere pat on the head or a dull paycheck, you see.”
Vincent's crimson eyes stared right back at her, wholly amused in her carefree-ness. It was to her own doom, after all. He merely smiled slightly, leaning back to adjust the cuffs on his sleeve.
”My dear Bella, I would never dream of merely kidnapping and draining you to be enough to win you over.”
His gaze flicked from the cuff to her. ”However, you must realize that I can change your mind in an instant. You should be grateful to me, in fact, for giving you the illusion of choice here. It's not a ‘deal’, we're cutting, my sweet. You are my doll, and you will do as I say.”
He grinned wolfishly. ”So, I want to hear you say, ‘Yes, Mr. Vincent. I'll get right on that.’”
He shrugged, one eye closing in a wink. ”Or you'll see this little game get real real fast.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed just a hint, a flicker of icy amusement dancing within her ruby-red stare. “Your doll? How charmingly presumptuous,” she teased, her tone dripping with allure. Leaning forward as much as her bonds would allow, she locked her gaze onto his. “But tell me, if you genuinely possess the power to sway me in an instant, why engage in this elaborate ruse at all? Why not simply wave your fingers and bend me to your will, as you so desire?”
”...Calling my bluff, are we?” Vincent said, a dark tone entering his voice. ”I was hoping you would.”
He shifted in his seat, procuring a phone. He quickly pressed the FaceTime for a contact. It connected almost instantly, and his voice drawled. ”Get on with it.”
He then turned the phone so Bella could easily see from her compromised position. She would see a dark room and two shadowy figures throwing a hooded man on the ground, into the spotlight. His hands were tightly bound behind his back, and a moan of pain escaped him.
Then the beatings started. Vincent held the phone steady as Bella was forced to listen to every punch, kick, and slap that the men wailed on the prone figure. If she listened carefully, she would notice something. Vincent was watching her eyes for it, waiting for her to recognize, yes, that those cries of pain were oddly familiar.
One of the men finally removed the hood of the victim, and Bella saw who it was.
Mathieu.
A pause, before Vincent's chin jerked. ”I didn't say to stop, did I?”
And the raw, agonizing beatings resumed before Bella's eyes.
Isabella's sly grin wavered when the hood was drawn away from Mathieu, revealing his battered face. A gasp escaped her lips, and for a brief moment, her ruby eyes glimmered with an unexpected emotion: fear.
“Mathieu,” she murmured. The intensity of her gaze flickered back to Vincent, her cold demeanour shattering into fragments, each piece reflecting her desperation. “You’ve proven your point,” she declared, her tone trembling with barely contained rage. “But this ends here... right now.”
In an instant, the careful, cool Isabella vanished, replaced by a fierce older sister ready to go to any lengths to safeguard the last person she held dear. “I’ll bend to your will,” she said, her declaration tasting like ash mixed with blood, “but if you so much as brush your hand against him again, I promise you’ll suffer a reckoning that will haunt your nightmares.”
Either way, Isabella was sure to make the man pay.
Vincent smiled, turned the phone to him, and crooned, ”Okay, that's enough.”
And the sound of beatings stopped.
He disconnected the call, glancing back over at Bella, taking in the sweet expression of her face. ”Of course, my dear. As long as you cooperate, your precious one won't be harmed.”
”Of course,” He gave the phone a little wiggle. ”That will change if you give me a reason to believe you're not being sincere with my requests…”
He gave a closed-lip smile as he pocketed the phone. ”Regardless, LO'm looking forward to a fortuitous business relation with you, Bella.”
Soon, Bella found herself standing on the streets of Nocturnia, her blood returned to her, and Vincent gone without a trace. Though she couldn't help shake the feeling of being watched…
Interactions: Emilia (NPC)
The muted hum of Highfair's nightlife throbbed like a distant heartbeat, muffled by the tinted windows of Isabella’s sleek black car. Inside, the amber glow of the dashboard illuminated her sharp features, casting a ghostly red hue that danced across her face, hinting at her intentions. Emilia, her trusted lieutenant, sat behind the wheel, her expression hard but questioning.
“Everything set?” Isabella asked.
Emilia nodded, her eyes flicking to Isabella’s face, searching for answers. “Word’s already spreading. Kairo’s people will catch wind soon enough. You sure this is the way to go?”
Isabella leaned back, her gaze fixed on the cityscape outside. “We’ll give Vincent just enough to keep him satisfied. But Kairo… he might be an ally, if he plays his cards right.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Emilia pressed.
“Then he’ll burn, just like Vincent wants,” Isabella said simply. “Either way, I’ll make sure this doesn’t end with Mathieu as collateral damage.”
Her breath hitched as she adjusted to the dizziness, Isabella’s head tipping forward slightly before she forced herself upright. Slowly, her crimson gaze roamed the room, taking in the shadowy figures at the edges, the glint of rifle barrels trained on her, and the polished shoes of the man who now stood before her. Bound to the chair like a fallen queen, with crimson droplets seeping from her veins and her midnight-black hair cascading around her shoulders in wild disarray, she centred herself by breathing deeply before finally looking up.
“Vincent,” the woman cooed, her voice as smooth as silk despite her predicament, “You certainly have a way of making a girl feel special. I must admit, it has me a bit…. breathless.” A playful grin danced across her lips.
Isabella’s eyes then wandered over the cold metal tubes that drained her life’s essence, her smile growing. “Though I must admit, the décor leaves much to be desired. Perhaps a bouquet of roses would liven things up? Or would that be too on the nose?”
Isabella tilted her head back against the chair, her long, delicate neck exposed, trying to appear casual as if she were simply admiring the ceiling. “So, you want me to play the villain and bring down Kairo, and in exchange... what do I get? A simple promise that we’ll be 'even'? Oh, how incredibly generous of you!” Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm, each word rolling off her tongue like honey, sweet and intoxicating but also laced with a bitter tang.
In an instant, her bright smile evaporated, however, leaving behind a cold gaze.
“Darling,” she purred, her voice dripping with sweet menace, “I didn’t scrabble and scrape my way to the pinnacle of Nocturnia’s shadowy empire just to hand out favours like candy at some parade. Especially not for men who naively think that tying me up and draining me is a clever way to cut a deal. I crave something far richer than a mere pat on the head or a dull paycheck, you see.”
Vincent's crimson eyes stared right back at her, wholly amused in her carefree-ness. It was to her own doom, after all. He merely smiled slightly, leaning back to adjust the cuffs on his sleeve.
”My dear Bella, I would never dream of merely kidnapping and draining you to be enough to win you over.”
His gaze flicked from the cuff to her. ”However, you must realize that I can change your mind in an instant. You should be grateful to me, in fact, for giving you the illusion of choice here. It's not a ‘deal’, we're cutting, my sweet. You are my doll, and you will do as I say.”
He grinned wolfishly. ”So, I want to hear you say, ‘Yes, Mr. Vincent. I'll get right on that.’”
He shrugged, one eye closing in a wink. ”Or you'll see this little game get real real fast.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed just a hint, a flicker of icy amusement dancing within her ruby-red stare. “Your doll? How charmingly presumptuous,” she teased, her tone dripping with allure. Leaning forward as much as her bonds would allow, she locked her gaze onto his. “But tell me, if you genuinely possess the power to sway me in an instant, why engage in this elaborate ruse at all? Why not simply wave your fingers and bend me to your will, as you so desire?”
”...Calling my bluff, are we?” Vincent said, a dark tone entering his voice. ”I was hoping you would.”
He shifted in his seat, procuring a phone. He quickly pressed the FaceTime for a contact. It connected almost instantly, and his voice drawled. ”Get on with it.”
He then turned the phone so Bella could easily see from her compromised position. She would see a dark room and two shadowy figures throwing a hooded man on the ground, into the spotlight. His hands were tightly bound behind his back, and a moan of pain escaped him.
Then the beatings started. Vincent held the phone steady as Bella was forced to listen to every punch, kick, and slap that the men wailed on the prone figure. If she listened carefully, she would notice something. Vincent was watching her eyes for it, waiting for her to recognize, yes, that those cries of pain were oddly familiar.
One of the men finally removed the hood of the victim, and Bella saw who it was.
Mathieu.
A pause, before Vincent's chin jerked. ”I didn't say to stop, did I?”
And the raw, agonizing beatings resumed before Bella's eyes.
Isabella's sly grin wavered when the hood was drawn away from Mathieu, revealing his battered face. A gasp escaped her lips, and for a brief moment, her ruby eyes glimmered with an unexpected emotion: fear.
“Mathieu,” she murmured. The intensity of her gaze flickered back to Vincent, her cold demeanour shattering into fragments, each piece reflecting her desperation. “You’ve proven your point,” she declared, her tone trembling with barely contained rage. “But this ends here... right now.”
In an instant, the careful, cool Isabella vanished, replaced by a fierce older sister ready to go to any lengths to safeguard the last person she held dear. “I’ll bend to your will,” she said, her declaration tasting like ash mixed with blood, “but if you so much as brush your hand against him again, I promise you’ll suffer a reckoning that will haunt your nightmares.”
Either way, Isabella was sure to make the man pay.
Vincent smiled, turned the phone to him, and crooned, ”Okay, that's enough.”
And the sound of beatings stopped.
He disconnected the call, glancing back over at Bella, taking in the sweet expression of her face. ”Of course, my dear. As long as you cooperate, your precious one won't be harmed.”
”Of course,” He gave the phone a little wiggle. ”That will change if you give me a reason to believe you're not being sincere with my requests…”
He gave a closed-lip smile as he pocketed the phone. ”Regardless, LO'm looking forward to a fortuitous business relation with you, Bella.”
Soon, Bella found herself standing on the streets of Nocturnia, her blood returned to her, and Vincent gone without a trace. Though she couldn't help shake the feeling of being watched…
The Red Rose Lounge Parking Area, Highfair
Interactions: Emilia (NPC)
The muted hum of Highfair's nightlife throbbed like a distant heartbeat, muffled by the tinted windows of Isabella’s sleek black car. Inside, the amber glow of the dashboard illuminated her sharp features, casting a ghostly red hue that danced across her face, hinting at her intentions. Emilia, her trusted lieutenant, sat behind the wheel, her expression hard but questioning.
“Everything set?” Isabella asked.
Emilia nodded, her eyes flicking to Isabella’s face, searching for answers. “Word’s already spreading. Kairo’s people will catch wind soon enough. You sure this is the way to go?”
Isabella leaned back, her gaze fixed on the cityscape outside. “We’ll give Vincent just enough to keep him satisfied. But Kairo… he might be an ally, if he plays his cards right.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Emilia pressed.
“Then he’ll burn, just like Vincent wants,” Isabella said simply. “Either way, I’ll make sure this doesn’t end with Mathieu as collateral damage.”
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evierose A Pear Bun
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Collab with: @Estylwen (Thorned Rose, various NPCs)
Hearing the girl's scream, several adults ran to her. Being associated with Omakase meant they were no strangers to conflicts, but Poppy had made it known that she did not like her children getting involved. Sure, the orphans and members alike were attacked often when they were away from the Omakase properties, but it has been years since any incident happened so close to the orphanage. Was it a personal grudge from someone unfamiliar with the boss of this district? Wouldn't be unlikely, given the boy's rebellious streak. Or was it an opponent aiming to stab Poppy where it hurts?
One of the adults, a burly man who was in charge of security, ran past her to the streets to see if he could catch a glimpse of whoever abducted one of theirs. Another, a teacher-caretaker who was nearby, embraced the panicking girl and asked in a gentle tone, "Can you tell me what you saw? We need to know who took him." The teacher and the last adult watched the girl intently, eager for any information she could provide. They had security cameras, but they needed to know what they were looking for first.
The girl sniffled while she was embraced, trying desperately not to cry. Hastily rubbing her eyes, she pointed at the receeding SUV that had taken Noah.
"I- I saw four men in these fancy suits, like what Miss Leroux wears. And I remember what she taught me- always look at the license plate! KVG-8850! That's what it said."
The security guy took note of the vehicle the girl had pointed to. He shouted something like "I'm going after them", before bolting around the corner to grab his motorcycle. Desperately hoping that the SUV wouldn't disappear before he could hit the road.
She looked up sheepishly. "Will you save Noah?"
The two adults left nodded to each, wordlessly confirming their next actions. The teacher turned her attention back to the girl, continuing to comfort her. "Of course we will. We're all family here. You did well remembering the plate number. We adults will get Noah back in no time. Now, let's get you inside and comfortable. We can't have another one to worry about, can we?" The woman's tone was teasing at the end, giving a little boop to the girl's nose. Her arm around the girl made to steer her inside.
The small girl gave a little giggle, easily allowing herself to be returned back to the Orphanage.
Meanwhile, the other man pulled out his phone while walking briskly to his office. With the press of a button, he dialed the emergency number on his phone. The phone in Omakase's Penny Stakes hideout rang briefly before it was picked up.
"We've got a situation. A child was kidnapped by an SUV, likely another faction by the description. The plate reads KVG-8850. Messani ran after them, but I doubt he could tail them for long. Tell me we can get eyes on them."
As Messani made to follow after the black SUV, a very interesting thing would happen. After about five minutes to hairpin turns and screeching through traffic, the van turned off into an alley. By the time Messani arrived, however, all he would find was the black SUV with its back doors wide open. The occupants, and Noah, were long gone...
Poppy felt unusually agitated today. She was supposed to receive a shipment of smuggled goods at the docks today but didn't have the patience for it. The shipment was exotic mushrooms, some hallucinogenic, some poisonous, and others simply coveted for their taste. A client was craving decadent fungi, and it didn't hurt to order a few extra items from their mushroom dealer.
After delegating her second-in-command to go in her stead, she decided to stroll along the food promenade and check on her tenets. The draft from the river cooled her head, but the restless feeling wouldn't go away. Poppy chose a random restaurant to enter. Maybe she was low on blood sugar. Even if she was fine, it didn't hurt to stock up on some energy for her Gyft. It was a quaint little bistro, the only worker in sight was a homely woman, sitting behind the bar. Poppy sat before the woman, presumably the owner, and ordered pizza bites with a glass of apple cider. Maybe it was her upbringing, her tastebuds were more satisfied with the common foods even when she had access to the most gourmet.
The homely woman smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "Hey hun, you got it. One plate 'o pizza bites and a cider coming right up."
She stuck a recipe to the window on the back wall, and a lone chef gave it a peek, quickly disappearing again to, presumably, make it. The convince with hot comfort fare was that they were relatively quick and easy to make. While the owner prepared the cider, a hot basket of bites slide across the window's shelf. These were both placed in front of Poppy, and the owner flashed that dazzling smile of her again.
"Let me know if you need anything else, dear."
Poppy could only return the woman a curt nod. The fresh goodness tasted bland in her mouth. Logically, she knew the bread was perfectly soft, and the tangy tomato sauce was well-seasoned to balance out the greasiness. But her nerves were as taut as a piano string. She knew something was about to happen.
The minutes passed in quiet bliss. Until, slowly, a gentle creep took the air. A draft from the outside entered through the swinging door, and footsteps clicked across the worn floor directly towards Poppy. A silver-haired man took the bar stool beside her, waving the owner down.
"An apple pie shot, please. Two, one for me, one for the nice lady," He said, side-eyeing Poppy.
The owner stared for a moment, her entire demeanor shifting to something a bit more cautious. The shots were made and placed in front of the two.
Indeed, the new presence in the bistro set something off. It wasn't just the air from the outside that stirred the stale atmosphere. It was the man himself. Poppy scrutinized the man as he moved beside her and called for the shots.
Poppy knew the air about him. He was someone from the same world as her. He wasn't someone she recognized, not that she was particularly good with faces. She was sure he wasn't from a nearby faction, though. Those, she was well-acquainted with. His actions spoke that he had come for her. What for, was the question.
She ignored her food and her new drink. "Can I help you with something?" She asked tersely, not one for beating around the bush, especially with her recent irritability. She kept some semblance of civility, not knowing what the man wanted, but her furrowed brows told of her impatience.
The man merely smiled, tossing his shot back, letting the now-empty glass clink with gusto against the counter. He sighed softly, appearing the relish the taste of alcohol on his tongue, before he side-eyed Poppy. If he noticed her impatience, it didn't affect the slow, non-chalant speed at which he spoke.
"Got a job for ya, Poppy. There's a dirty cop that's run outta usefulness. I want you to take some of your boys and... lift some evidence off her. Something that will incriminate her.
"Think you can do that for me? I'll pay you well for it, of course."
However, there was some good news. The phone was picked up in Omakase's Penny Stakes Hideout, and a smooth tone answered. "I'm tapping into the CCTV now..."
There was a click of a tongue. "No good. The license plate was flagged, owned by a Matteo Dinero, but it's already been abandoned. However, I'm currently tracking three suspect vehicles that just left the vicinity. Your boy could be in any one of them. Getting eyes to follow them now while I keep on the CCTV..."
People began moving at the Penny Stakes hideout. Once they got a name, one guy took to search who this Matteo Dinero was. More eyes helped with the CCTV footage, and calls were made to those out in the streets. One of these calls was made to Messani, updating him since he was one of the closest in the area.
After some time, the one running the identity search shouted to the group, "Hey guys, I don't think you'll like this. This Dinero guy is the underboss of Thorned Roses. I hope they lost a vehicle recently, 'cuz otherwise, we're in for some big trouble."
Omakase's call reached Messani at the perfect time. The card had confirmed the team's earlier suspicions -- that this was much bigger than just a violent mugging of a child. The Thorned Roses must have some form of demand.
The guy who was obviously the leader of this group let out a sigh. "Shit. Alright, keep doing what you're doing. I'm gonna call this in to Pops." he walked over to a corner for his call, just far enough that he wasn't surrounded by background noise but still wouldn't miss any new information they gained.
The phone rang once. Twice. No answer. She shouldn't be busy right now.
He tried calling again, knowing Pops would pick up the second call even if her hands were tied up.
Mentions: Emily @LanaStorm Interactions: Matteo Dinero (NPC)
Poppy's leg bounced as the stranger dragged out his words. Oh great, more headaches to deal with. She knocked back the delicious shot, hoping to take the edge off. Coincidentally, apple pie shots were one of her favourite drinks. It reminisced of baking she did with Mrs. Leroux. The man seemed a little more agreeable once the sweetness enveloped her from the inside.
With a clearer head, Poppy pondered his proposal. She would never turn down good money. Plus, so far, the job didn't pose too much potential danger. Omakase at least have an amicable relationship with the Penny Stakes precinct, having a reign on the most volatile members who lived out in tents, and enough money to bribe those in Grey Heights to turn a blind eye to the lesser transgressions.
"If you know me, you know I don't like risking my boys. Tell me more about this target." Poppy took a sip of her cider, now tasting more sour than she'd liked in contrast to the aftertaste of the shot. She clicked her tongue. "Oh, and may I know who I'm dealing with? You obviously know who I am, so it's only fair to introduce yourself." She cocked her head with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, not that he had once faced her to study her expression yet.
He gave a wolfish grin, "A lady who ere's on the side of cautious. I can respect that."
His eyes glanced back to the owner, "A rum and coke, if you could. Double-shot."
The drink was placed in front of him. He gave a satisfactory sip before holding the glass by its rim, forearms resting on the bar. His dark eyes glanced side-long at her.
"Your target's name is Emily Newport. Runs a corrupt cop division in Gold Rim. Easy enough job to lift a bit of their paper. Anything that would get her put behind bars for at least five, ten years would do."
He hovered his glass against his lips, before snorting in light-hearted humour, recounting a joke only he knew, before he gave a slanted smile to Poppy. "Matteo. Mister Matteo Dinero. But you can just call me Matteo, hun."
Poppy quickly noted the information about this corrupt cop. Gold Rim, a bit far from her base... and a bit close to where he was. A cop too. But no matter, she didn't need to show herself for this.
Before she could continue her thoughts, her phone rang. She turned it off without even looking at who it was. It would be bad form in the presence of company, with whom she was discussing business no less.
While her previous thoughts were interrupted, she found no reason to turn the man down. "Matteo," she began. Her face now sported a business smile to match his grin. His name did ring a bell — Thorned Roses, was it? Now Gold Rim made sense. "I will gladly do business with you, but --"
Her attempt at negotiating the terms was cut short by her phone ringing again. She knew that it meant urgent business. "Excuse me, I must take this call. One of my boys might've set fire to our backyard." She attempted to make a joke before slipping away to take the call.
The man on the other end began explaining the trouble that had found them. Her heart wrenched when they said it was Noah who was taken. Her Noah. Surely, it was a coincidence they had chosen him out of the dozens of children she housed. She pushed aside the fear that was grappling at her. She needed to stay cool to handle the situation and to hide the fact that he meant so much to her.
At the mention of Thorned Roses, her eyes darted to the man nursing his second drink. A growl rose in her throat along with the feeling of anger. She gripped her phone in her hand, letting it fall from her face as she strode back to her seat. In her rage, she subconsciously activated her Gyft ever so slightly, and her fist flew to the handsome man's face in a blur.
"Maybe you should've opened with how you kidnapped one of my children." She gritted through her teeth, her mind trying its best not to dwell on who exactly had been taken.
Matteo didn't react. In fact, he may have welcomed the beating as the fist connected with his face. His only move was to slightly turn his head, anticipating she might be violent. That way, her fist would land on his cheek.
Still hurt.
His drink was knocked from his hand, shooting across the bar and shattering on the floor. The owner paled, but didn't move from her position, only stepping back a little. Matteo didn't move from where he had been forced back, instead, his eyes locked on her.
"That's strike one, sweetheart. Hit me again, I dare you."
He sighed, grinning a little as he straightened himself in his chair, fingers brushing against the raw skin on his cheek.
"Rest assured, your Noah will be returned to you in one piece so long as you behave. Or I might have to get creative in how I carve up his face."
Poppy's eyes narrowed at his wording. No, he couldn't possibly have known. His threat did pull her out of her blind rage, however. Physical assault might not have been the best course of action here. But he deserved it.
Matteo's smirk widened a little, seeing the rage and struggle in her eyes, before shrugging. "You got a week. When you got the goods, return here. And maybe, maybe, if you have the best behavior, I'll let Noah go, hm?"
She wanted nothing more than to wipe that taunting smirk off his face. If her knife if not her raw fist. But alas, he'd caught her by the throat with a hostage in his hands. Her fist clenched and relaxed. It wasn't like she had any other options.
She eased away from him, tone icy cold. "I like to think myself an honorable businesswoman, but if that's how you're going to play it. So be it. I will hold my end of the bargain. You better hope Noah comes back to us without a hair amiss. You wouldn't want the wrath of my group unleashed on you." She certainly wasn't known as Mother Goose for writing nursery rhymes.
With that, Poppy spun on her heels and stormed out of the restaurant. She needed to get moving if she only had a week. She wasn't going to let go of the leads she already had on Noah's kidnapping either.
Poppy Orphanage, Penny Stakes
Hearing the girl's scream, several adults ran to her. Being associated with Omakase meant they were no strangers to conflicts, but Poppy had made it known that she did not like her children getting involved. Sure, the orphans and members alike were attacked often when they were away from the Omakase properties, but it has been years since any incident happened so close to the orphanage. Was it a personal grudge from someone unfamiliar with the boss of this district? Wouldn't be unlikely, given the boy's rebellious streak. Or was it an opponent aiming to stab Poppy where it hurts?
One of the adults, a burly man who was in charge of security, ran past her to the streets to see if he could catch a glimpse of whoever abducted one of theirs. Another, a teacher-caretaker who was nearby, embraced the panicking girl and asked in a gentle tone, "Can you tell me what you saw? We need to know who took him." The teacher and the last adult watched the girl intently, eager for any information she could provide. They had security cameras, but they needed to know what they were looking for first.
The girl sniffled while she was embraced, trying desperately not to cry. Hastily rubbing her eyes, she pointed at the receeding SUV that had taken Noah.
"I- I saw four men in these fancy suits, like what Miss Leroux wears. And I remember what she taught me- always look at the license plate! KVG-8850! That's what it said."
The security guy took note of the vehicle the girl had pointed to. He shouted something like "I'm going after them", before bolting around the corner to grab his motorcycle. Desperately hoping that the SUV wouldn't disappear before he could hit the road.
She looked up sheepishly. "Will you save Noah?"
The two adults left nodded to each, wordlessly confirming their next actions. The teacher turned her attention back to the girl, continuing to comfort her. "Of course we will. We're all family here. You did well remembering the plate number. We adults will get Noah back in no time. Now, let's get you inside and comfortable. We can't have another one to worry about, can we?" The woman's tone was teasing at the end, giving a little boop to the girl's nose. Her arm around the girl made to steer her inside.
The small girl gave a little giggle, easily allowing herself to be returned back to the Orphanage.
Meanwhile, the other man pulled out his phone while walking briskly to his office. With the press of a button, he dialed the emergency number on his phone. The phone in Omakase's Penny Stakes hideout rang briefly before it was picked up.
"We've got a situation. A child was kidnapped by an SUV, likely another faction by the description. The plate reads KVG-8850. Messani ran after them, but I doubt he could tail them for long. Tell me we can get eyes on them."
As Messani made to follow after the black SUV, a very interesting thing would happen. After about five minutes to hairpin turns and screeching through traffic, the van turned off into an alley. By the time Messani arrived, however, all he would find was the black SUV with its back doors wide open. The occupants, and Noah, were long gone...
Grey Heights
Poppy felt unusually agitated today. She was supposed to receive a shipment of smuggled goods at the docks today but didn't have the patience for it. The shipment was exotic mushrooms, some hallucinogenic, some poisonous, and others simply coveted for their taste. A client was craving decadent fungi, and it didn't hurt to order a few extra items from their mushroom dealer.
After delegating her second-in-command to go in her stead, she decided to stroll along the food promenade and check on her tenets. The draft from the river cooled her head, but the restless feeling wouldn't go away. Poppy chose a random restaurant to enter. Maybe she was low on blood sugar. Even if she was fine, it didn't hurt to stock up on some energy for her Gyft. It was a quaint little bistro, the only worker in sight was a homely woman, sitting behind the bar. Poppy sat before the woman, presumably the owner, and ordered pizza bites with a glass of apple cider. Maybe it was her upbringing, her tastebuds were more satisfied with the common foods even when she had access to the most gourmet.
The homely woman smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "Hey hun, you got it. One plate 'o pizza bites and a cider coming right up."
She stuck a recipe to the window on the back wall, and a lone chef gave it a peek, quickly disappearing again to, presumably, make it. The convince with hot comfort fare was that they were relatively quick and easy to make. While the owner prepared the cider, a hot basket of bites slide across the window's shelf. These were both placed in front of Poppy, and the owner flashed that dazzling smile of her again.
"Let me know if you need anything else, dear."
Poppy could only return the woman a curt nod. The fresh goodness tasted bland in her mouth. Logically, she knew the bread was perfectly soft, and the tangy tomato sauce was well-seasoned to balance out the greasiness. But her nerves were as taut as a piano string. She knew something was about to happen.
The minutes passed in quiet bliss. Until, slowly, a gentle creep took the air. A draft from the outside entered through the swinging door, and footsteps clicked across the worn floor directly towards Poppy. A silver-haired man took the bar stool beside her, waving the owner down.
"An apple pie shot, please. Two, one for me, one for the nice lady," He said, side-eyeing Poppy.
The owner stared for a moment, her entire demeanor shifting to something a bit more cautious. The shots were made and placed in front of the two.
Indeed, the new presence in the bistro set something off. It wasn't just the air from the outside that stirred the stale atmosphere. It was the man himself. Poppy scrutinized the man as he moved beside her and called for the shots.
Poppy knew the air about him. He was someone from the same world as her. He wasn't someone she recognized, not that she was particularly good with faces. She was sure he wasn't from a nearby faction, though. Those, she was well-acquainted with. His actions spoke that he had come for her. What for, was the question.
She ignored her food and her new drink. "Can I help you with something?" She asked tersely, not one for beating around the bush, especially with her recent irritability. She kept some semblance of civility, not knowing what the man wanted, but her furrowed brows told of her impatience.
The man merely smiled, tossing his shot back, letting the now-empty glass clink with gusto against the counter. He sighed softly, appearing the relish the taste of alcohol on his tongue, before he side-eyed Poppy. If he noticed her impatience, it didn't affect the slow, non-chalant speed at which he spoke.
"Got a job for ya, Poppy. There's a dirty cop that's run outta usefulness. I want you to take some of your boys and... lift some evidence off her. Something that will incriminate her.
"Think you can do that for me? I'll pay you well for it, of course."
Omakase Hideout, Penny Stakes
However, there was some good news. The phone was picked up in Omakase's Penny Stakes Hideout, and a smooth tone answered. "I'm tapping into the CCTV now..."
There was a click of a tongue. "No good. The license plate was flagged, owned by a Matteo Dinero, but it's already been abandoned. However, I'm currently tracking three suspect vehicles that just left the vicinity. Your boy could be in any one of them. Getting eyes to follow them now while I keep on the CCTV..."
People began moving at the Penny Stakes hideout. Once they got a name, one guy took to search who this Matteo Dinero was. More eyes helped with the CCTV footage, and calls were made to those out in the streets. One of these calls was made to Messani, updating him since he was one of the closest in the area.
After some time, the one running the identity search shouted to the group, "Hey guys, I don't think you'll like this. This Dinero guy is the underboss of Thorned Roses. I hope they lost a vehicle recently, 'cuz otherwise, we're in for some big trouble."
Messani knew he'd lost his mark. But before he could return, he took a good look into the van, hoping to find something, anything that might provide a clue to the identities of these kidnappers and where they were headed.
As Messani looked through the abandoned SUV, he could only find one thing of note, besides the smell of aftershave, cigarettes, and thick cologne. Left on the backseat was a custom playing card of a king wrapped in beautifully detailed, thorned roses. The calling card of the Thorned Roses. Scrawled on the patterned back of the card was a short message:
As Messani looked through the abandoned SUV, he could only find one thing of note, besides the smell of aftershave, cigarettes, and thick cologne. Left on the backseat was a custom playing card of a king wrapped in beautifully detailed, thorned roses. The calling card of the Thorned Roses. Scrawled on the patterned back of the card was a short message:
Behave and he stays safe.Omakase's call reached Messani at the perfect time. The card had confirmed the team's earlier suspicions -- that this was much bigger than just a violent mugging of a child. The Thorned Roses must have some form of demand.
The guy who was obviously the leader of this group let out a sigh. "Shit. Alright, keep doing what you're doing. I'm gonna call this in to Pops." he walked over to a corner for his call, just far enough that he wasn't surrounded by background noise but still wouldn't miss any new information they gained.
The phone rang once. Twice. No answer. She shouldn't be busy right now.
He tried calling again, knowing Pops would pick up the second call even if her hands were tied up.
Random Bistro, Grey Heights
Mentions: Emily @LanaStorm Interactions: Matteo Dinero (NPC)
Poppy's leg bounced as the stranger dragged out his words. Oh great, more headaches to deal with. She knocked back the delicious shot, hoping to take the edge off. Coincidentally, apple pie shots were one of her favourite drinks. It reminisced of baking she did with Mrs. Leroux. The man seemed a little more agreeable once the sweetness enveloped her from the inside.
With a clearer head, Poppy pondered his proposal. She would never turn down good money. Plus, so far, the job didn't pose too much potential danger. Omakase at least have an amicable relationship with the Penny Stakes precinct, having a reign on the most volatile members who lived out in tents, and enough money to bribe those in Grey Heights to turn a blind eye to the lesser transgressions.
"If you know me, you know I don't like risking my boys. Tell me more about this target." Poppy took a sip of her cider, now tasting more sour than she'd liked in contrast to the aftertaste of the shot. She clicked her tongue. "Oh, and may I know who I'm dealing with? You obviously know who I am, so it's only fair to introduce yourself." She cocked her head with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, not that he had once faced her to study her expression yet.
He gave a wolfish grin, "A lady who ere's on the side of cautious. I can respect that."
His eyes glanced back to the owner, "A rum and coke, if you could. Double-shot."
The drink was placed in front of him. He gave a satisfactory sip before holding the glass by its rim, forearms resting on the bar. His dark eyes glanced side-long at her.
"Your target's name is Emily Newport. Runs a corrupt cop division in Gold Rim. Easy enough job to lift a bit of their paper. Anything that would get her put behind bars for at least five, ten years would do."
He hovered his glass against his lips, before snorting in light-hearted humour, recounting a joke only he knew, before he gave a slanted smile to Poppy. "Matteo. Mister Matteo Dinero. But you can just call me Matteo, hun."
Poppy quickly noted the information about this corrupt cop. Gold Rim, a bit far from her base... and a bit close to where he was. A cop too. But no matter, she didn't need to show herself for this.
Before she could continue her thoughts, her phone rang. She turned it off without even looking at who it was. It would be bad form in the presence of company, with whom she was discussing business no less.
While her previous thoughts were interrupted, she found no reason to turn the man down. "Matteo," she began. Her face now sported a business smile to match his grin. His name did ring a bell — Thorned Roses, was it? Now Gold Rim made sense. "I will gladly do business with you, but --"
Her attempt at negotiating the terms was cut short by her phone ringing again. She knew that it meant urgent business. "Excuse me, I must take this call. One of my boys might've set fire to our backyard." She attempted to make a joke before slipping away to take the call.
The man on the other end began explaining the trouble that had found them. Her heart wrenched when they said it was Noah who was taken. Her Noah. Surely, it was a coincidence they had chosen him out of the dozens of children she housed. She pushed aside the fear that was grappling at her. She needed to stay cool to handle the situation and to hide the fact that he meant so much to her.
At the mention of Thorned Roses, her eyes darted to the man nursing his second drink. A growl rose in her throat along with the feeling of anger. She gripped her phone in her hand, letting it fall from her face as she strode back to her seat. In her rage, she subconsciously activated her Gyft ever so slightly, and her fist flew to the handsome man's face in a blur.
"Maybe you should've opened with how you kidnapped one of my children." She gritted through her teeth, her mind trying its best not to dwell on who exactly had been taken.
Matteo didn't react. In fact, he may have welcomed the beating as the fist connected with his face. His only move was to slightly turn his head, anticipating she might be violent. That way, her fist would land on his cheek.
Still hurt.
His drink was knocked from his hand, shooting across the bar and shattering on the floor. The owner paled, but didn't move from her position, only stepping back a little. Matteo didn't move from where he had been forced back, instead, his eyes locked on her.
"That's strike one, sweetheart. Hit me again, I dare you."
He sighed, grinning a little as he straightened himself in his chair, fingers brushing against the raw skin on his cheek.
"Rest assured, your Noah will be returned to you in one piece so long as you behave. Or I might have to get creative in how I carve up his face."
Poppy's eyes narrowed at his wording. No, he couldn't possibly have known. His threat did pull her out of her blind rage, however. Physical assault might not have been the best course of action here. But he deserved it.
Matteo's smirk widened a little, seeing the rage and struggle in her eyes, before shrugging. "You got a week. When you got the goods, return here. And maybe, maybe, if you have the best behavior, I'll let Noah go, hm?"
She wanted nothing more than to wipe that taunting smirk off his face. If her knife if not her raw fist. But alas, he'd caught her by the throat with a hostage in his hands. Her fist clenched and relaxed. It wasn't like she had any other options.
She eased away from him, tone icy cold. "I like to think myself an honorable businesswoman, but if that's how you're going to play it. So be it. I will hold my end of the bargain. You better hope Noah comes back to us without a hair amiss. You wouldn't want the wrath of my group unleashed on you." She certainly wasn't known as Mother Goose for writing nursery rhymes.
With that, Poppy spun on her heels and stormed out of the restaurant. She needed to get moving if she only had a week. She wasn't going to let go of the leads she already had on Noah's kidnapping either.
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