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Iliad City: A Magical RP in an Original World (Resuming)

Dahlia

Name: Dahlia "Cobalt" Sangrey
Appearance:

Dahlia

Age: 18
Bio:Dahlia Sangrey was born into the fabulously wealthy and powerful Sangrey Family, descendants of the Illuminated Poet who used their powers to corner a number of markets. The Family's enterprises quickly grew from a couple of drugstores to include most of the manufacturing in Iliad, multiple upscale nightclubs and bars, mines and cattle ranches outside the city and a shipping company to facilitate trade with the rest of the world. With that much industry and wealth in their control it wasn't hard for the Sangreys to end up whispering in the ears of the City-Council for generations and even having favor with a few Mayors. The Family used its valuable position to continue enriching itself, getting a number of business friendly laws and regulations passed and building good-will with the populace by building shelters and creating charities for the poor and sick.

Beneath this facade of goodwill and kindness runs a darker undercurrent. The Family is run by the Patriarch, an ancient and mostly unseen figure who's rumored to be the only surviving child of the Illuminated Poet. Under his guidance the family has developed a personal philosophy that values strength, honor, power and nobility. Depending on which Sangrey you asked (assuming you could even get one to speak about it to you) this philosophy is similar to anything from survival of the fittest to Monarchism to outright Fascism but one thing remains the same: the Sangreys should be at the helm of the city of Illiad. To that end each member does their best to push towards this goal, every generation digging its claws in a little deeper.

Dahlia is just the newest player in the game. The youngest out of eight children (more children mean more future bankers, politicians and celebrities) the newest addition to the Family was given to tutors before she could even properly walk. Her childhood studies went past simple arithmetic and language skills and into the realm of high society, learning to speak multiple languages and studying classic works of literature and art. It wasn't enough for her parents that she simply had an appreciation, she would have to master them as well. When Dahlia was seven she was made to spend ten and twelve hour days practicing, long nights of learning to sing and paint and play the piano and violin. Every failure was met with a curt "Again", the young girl reading sheet music and staring at canvases until her eyes went blurry. At age nine she practiced her magic for the first time and it changed her appearance drastically into horned creature, forever marking her in her own eyes as irrevocably tainted.

And it paid off. Dahlia grew into an intelligent young lady capable of discussing and debating topics as varied as politics, business, the nature of the stars and man, and the benefits and drawbacks of magic and technology. When she turned fifteen she was enrolled in the Ishtar School for Creative Minds to enhance and hone her already naturally formidable magical abilities as part of the final preparations to begin pushing her family's agenda.

Mundane Skills:Dahlia is a world class musician and artist, demonstrating her talents with her piano, voice, violin, brush and pen at concerts and galleries throughout the city. Thanks to her no expense spared private education she can hold her own in any intellectual conversation and dominate quite a few of them. She's also a skilled fencer and kick-boxer and is familiar with firearms, having been trained to temper the brute force of her magic with the proper skill.

Magic: Dahlia's relationship with magic is... complicated. Her blood relation to the Illuminated Poet allows to use her music as a means of casting spells from the Curse, Disease and Bone schools of magic, the types of the magic the Sangrey family has traditionally been most adept with. But a childhood accident while learning her abilties is what her changed her appearance into the blue skinned and yellow eyed demon she is today. On top of that extended usage of her abilities with result in her body withering and skin cracking, blood dripping from her eyes and other painful side effects. So it tends to be a last resort.

Bone Manipulation-Trying this spell when she was unprepared was what kickstarted her drastic appearance change. If used on herself this spell can cause thick bone plating spread from her horns to cover her whole body in armor plating sturdy enough to stop bullets and spells and generate obsidian sharp bone blades and claws.

Curse-Dahlia can mark a target so that they suffer from bad luck and general misfortune. The universe seems to conspire against the victim, making them suffer all manner of mishaps from hazards appearing just in front of them as they walk to spells misfiring to doors being mysteriously jammed shut.

Vectors of Infection- Dahlia summons swarms of plague rats and corpse flies to gnaw their way into someone.

Hex- The most straight forward of Dahlias abilities, this spell much like a gun: Point at the enemy and fire. It’s projectile is a shot of pure arcane energy. Used as part of a one-two combo with either the bone blade or a normal firearm, the idea being that one deals with defenses in place for the other

Cloudburst- Sickly yellowish-green smoke pours from her mouth, filling the room. The effects are similar to tear gas at first, irritating the eyes and throat. Prolonged exposure can lead to internal bleeding, the mucus membranes of the body shedding, temporary blindness, vomiting and eventually death if left unchecked.

Suffering- The spell does no physical damage but causes the victim to suffer from severe pain, randomly affecting them with everything from the feeling of their teeth being pulled out of their head to being burned alive. The effect lasts for as long As Dahlia is able to maintain concentration on the target.

Personality: Dahlia is quiet and thoughtful, mulling over her words and selecting the best one for the occasion. While not thrilled by the idea of conflict she will rarely back down from one out of fear of looking weak, something that she can not tolerate. She's friendly and polite enough but is slow to actually trust, not liking the idea of having to rely on another person. The only topics she'll let herself be truly open about is music and art, gushing about her next project or the amazing landscape sketch she had just bought with money from the well-stocked private bank account courtesy of her parents.

In regards to her family's personal philosophy she's somewhat subdued in enthusiasm, feeling that there's something inherently off about the whole deal but nowhere near brave enough to risk the ire of her family by not pushing ahead as expected. Magic is where she really differs from her relatives. Where most of her relatives relish their mastery over Death, she hates it. Her powers are too destructive to herself and others, the risks too great for a single person to bear. Every time she uses them she's gambling with the lives of her and everyone around her. As such she tries to avoid using all but the simplest of them whenever possible. This forces her to put a premium on physical combat, wielding blades and bullets before magic.

The destructive power of her magic and her abnormal appearance serve to keep Dahlia from putting herself out there unless forced by her family or someone else drags her along. Very few manage to make it happen.
Faction (Marduk, Ishtar, or Cassandra):Ishtar
Are you a Descendant of the Illuminated Poet?: Yes
Important Relations:

Jericho

Her only real friend and link to sanity, Jericho was given to her when she was child and he was a cub. He is intelligent and communicates with her telepathically.

Others TBD

Iliad City: A Magical RP in an Original World (Resuming)

Fixed Dahlia, added her to the characters tab

Iliad City: A Magical RP in an Original World (Resuming)

Moved

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Whoever had supplied this intel was either a traitor or had been tortured and left for dead by the Jinrai. Either way, Kaz was going to beat the entire intelligence team to death if she made it out of this alive. With a squeal of tires on pavement the APV careened towards the squad, Kaz gritting her teeth in a silent snarl as she did her damnedest to splatter the Jinrai across the sidewalk before they could reach Takai. Three of them where smart enough to throw themselves out of the way of the massive hulking slab of speeding steel but the operative carrying the DMR wasn't. His first panicked shot went wide and buried itself into the ground a ways away. The second and third snapped off one after the other, managing to tear away the side mirror and crack the bullet resistant windshield glass.

There was no fourth shot. The APV barely budged as its grill impacted the idiot's body, Kaz slamming on the breaks and jerking the wheel sideways. A bump and wet squelch and the unfortunate terrorist was feeling the weight of a small elephant crushing his bones and pulping his organs. He was dead before the car stopped skidding, being dragged another few feet under the beast of a vehicle so that he left a red smear. Even with all their military surplus weapons and gadgets, brute force and the laws of momentum could still beat out the Jinrai.

The poor bastard's comrades had to managed to recover the time the APV stopped, spraying its side with bullets. The window cracked under the first salvo, unable to stand up to heavy slugs and FMJs. The door held up much better, Kaz dropping low in her seat as she tried to figure out what to do. Her gear was in the back, a minigun simply not able to fit up front. Even if she was able to climb through to get to it without being filled with lead she couldn't exactly fire the damn thing from inside a car. Not without going permanently deaf at least. She hadn't bothered carrying a sidearm, a stupid mistake she would not be repeating that was for sure. So that left her with one option: go absolutely fucking insane.

She hated doing this, Kaz sweeping some of the glass shards from her hair as she rested her boots on the door, waiting for her moment. The intermittent firing died down, the metallic sound of dropped magazines against the ground letting her know that the hit team was reloading. Judging by the sound of footsteps they were getting closer as well. Perfect. Kaz took hold of her left wrist with her right hand, breathing heavily as she tried to steel herself. The first couple of second where always the worst but after that it was manageable. She could handle it. She twisted her wrist nearly 180 degrees, the metal hinges that allowed her to do so sending a signal to the injection system connected to her heart and brain. There was a brief chill, like her blood had been replaced with ice water, and she swore she could heart her heart pumping faster and faster. The synthetic coils of her muscles tensed up like snake waiting to strike. And in less than a second that brief moment of deadly calm was replaced by an explosion of black rage.

A roar ripped from Kaz's throat as she kicked the door off its hinges, the thing knocking one of the thugs to the ground. She was on the other two before they could even react. They weren't even human to her anymore, just fleshy targets that needed to be stomped or shot or crushed until they were unrecognizable piles of mush. The first victim she got her hands on hadn't even managed to finished loading his rifle, fumbling it incompetently as a gloved fist shattered his skull in a single blow. Kaz kept punching, two, three and four more hits raining down on his face within seconds, ruining any semblance he had of being a person. Kaz hated how they would try and trick her, how they would scream and gurgle incoherently for mercy through shattered teeth and torn lips. They were nothing but mulch and she would make them mulch, break them into pieces and scatter them!

With a grunt she she shifted her position and tossed the dying man at his friend who was still standing, using the distraction to close the distance and wrap her hands around his neck. There was no ultra-violent outburst this time, the hot blooded instinctual need for violence having died down to be replaced by a cold hatred of anything she got her hands on. The Jinrai were all killers, no different from the terrorists she had fought in Iraq and Afghanistan and Mexico and Columbia. She would treat these ones the same as she did all the others. A quick twist of her hands and his neck was cleanly broken, just like when she had killed chickens and rabbits for dinner on her grandmothers farm.

And then there was one. The final Jinrai managed to struggle to his feet, holding his ribs where the door had broken them. In his free hand was a knife, nothing fancy or high tech. Just 8 inches of sharpened steel that was perfect for tearing into soft flesh. He was holding it like an ice pick, lunging forward to stab down at Kaz. The attempt was swiftly blocked, the raging bear catching his hand and breaking every bone in it with a single squeeze. Before he even had time to scream Kaz slammed his head against the APV, denting the hood and stilling his movement.

The fight was over. She had won.

Kaz was covered in bits of glass and bone and flecked with blood, a look that was sadly not unfamiliar to her. The career soldier scooped up one of the empty rifles from the ground and snagged a magazine from the vest of the man who's neck she had broken, rushing towards the house to assist in the apprehension (or more likely the killing) of the suspect. She hadn't taken more than two steps when the building and the one next to it erupted into twin balls of dust and debris, whatever explosives that had just been set off unleashing a whirlwind of shrapnel. There was no time to admire the sight, Kaz's training and experience in the Middle East sending her toppling to the ground with her legs crossed and her ears covered. Bits of metal and wood rained down on her, piercing through her light armor and embedding themselves in her, each one a searing needle digging just under her skin. When the awful rain ended Kaz stood up on shaky legs and turned to look at the scene.

It was like she was back on patrol in Kabul. Car alarms blared over the dismal sound of the moans of the dying, mothers dragging themselves through the wreckage in a desperate final attempt to find their babies. Mere inches from her foot was a child's arm, coated white with plaster except for the end where it had been severed. The dark red blood leaking from it was a morbidly entrancing contrast to the dirty grey of the sidewalk, Kaz kicking it aside as she went to retrieve Takai. A couple of minutes ago none of this would have been a problem to her, but the combat drugs were wearing off, the haze of battle-fueled hatred giving way to tired revulsion.

Takai was only half buried, Kaz lifting away heaps of drywall and broken beams. She half expected everything below his waist to be gone but he was only missing a good chunk of his leg. Lucky him. Stripping off one of her gloves she checked his pulse.

Slow, but still there.

Kaz was no medic but she knew the basics. The wound needed to be disinfected and tied off, medics could take care of the rest. With a gentleness that didn't fit her imposing size or rough demeanor she scooped her comrade from the rubble and carried him off to the APV. The back had a first aid kit, enough antiseptic and bandages to keep the injury clean. Kaz did what she could, picking away debris and disinfecting the jagged gash before wrapping it in bandages. All there was left to do was call it in.

She tried to prepare herself for the call, tried to keep as calm as possible to preserve some semblance of professionalism. That was a failure from the beginning, Kaz screaming at the top of her lungs as soon as the channel was open.

"It is Bykov here, Takai is wounded and not responding. There was a trap, lots of collat-collater- colla, oh fuck it!" She switched into her native tongue, relying on the presence of someone who could speak English on the other side. "It's Kaz, the whole situation is absolutely fucked! Whatever son of a bitch gave you the intel on this shitshow in the Exclusion Zone is a fucking traitor, you walked us right into a goddamn ambush! The building was rigged to blow and I count at least four dead civilians and there's probably more. Get medics over here now damnit! And tell the fucking morons in Intelligence that I hope they all fucking choke to death!"

Was that childish and likely to damage her relationship with the team? Yes. Did she give a shit? Not in the least. Within ten minutes the medics had arrived, loading Takai into the field ambulance and covering the bodies. The news wasn't far behind, the vultures circling the carnage to try and get an explosive quote, a picture, a live feed for the world to see just how effective the brave and noble NSF was at combating the threat of the Jinrai.

Without saying a word Kaz packed up and started walking. She would make it back to base eventually.

---------

If there was one thing Daiyu hated it was people with overblown senses of self-worth and slaves to traditional forms of address. Well that was two things but it seemed Suicidal Seo fit the bill for both. She didn't break eye contact with him until he dead, listening quietly as he lived up to the stereotypes about Korean rage. "As you wish. Forgive me Kamenashi-san. I didn't mean to cause any offense, and I certainly didn't mean to imply you need any babying."

You uncontrollable incompetent idiot, you need someone to hold your hand as you cross the street to make sure you don't die trying to backflip over a speeding car.

The notion of training not killing him was almost laughable. Training shouldn't be lethal, but his idea of a good workout was catching a bullet in the back. "I'm almost always free in the morning. Perhaps we can cross swords tomorrow if you're available?"Seo would be an interesting one to face. He was undeniably talented, but also undeniably reckless and foolhardy. What was the point of fancy flips and twists when your enemy would be on solid ground? Daiyu would enjoy knocking him back to Earth.

She listen to Ashton cautiously, taking a sip of her tea as he apologized for his "unprofessional" (obnoxious brown-nosing) behavior and brought up Kazonkova. The half-Russian, half-American mercenary with the anger management issues, Daiyu had exchanged a few words with her but couldn't claim to know much more than her previous occupation. "Ms.Bykov, yes. A tragic story to be sure, but just how much research have you done? Has there been any similar cases to hers? If I recall correctly the system that caused it was a prototype that she later modified herself, so it's unlikely to find someone who's gone through the same thing. And how wouldn't part of her brain have to be removed and then replaced? Wouldn't that affect her memory or bodily functions adversely?"

Did Ashton really care about Kaz at all, or was this just a ploy to make himself look good? Either way, she'd play along for now.

"I apologize for all the questions Hyuga-kun but business tends to make people analytical and make inquries everything. If you'd permit me one more, do you have a rough estimate on the amount of money needed? You're asking three of the wealthiest people on the planet so I believe it's fair."

Chris seemed fun at least, genuinely taking an interest in Margo and not being an immediate stick in the mud. Sure he was disheveled and a little boorish but that was a million times better than stuffy and uptight. "I see a flatterer joins our ranks. Well never let it be said that I can't be swayed by compliments. I am Daiyu Li, but please call me Daiyu. Titles, ranks and honorifics make me feel old."

She tittered quietly, only to notice that Chelsea's tears. Without a word she produced a handkerchief from one of the inner pockets of her kimono, extending it to the bolt-on bimbo with a kind smile. "Do you need to take a moment Chelsea?"

@LetMeDoStuff @Letter Bee @MK2 @silvermist1116 @Landaus Five-One

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

The Exclusion Zone. Kaz's mother had almost ended up patrolling here back during those terrifying weeks and months after the bomb dropped. How different would her life had been if she come to Japan when she was 12? Maybe she would have seen war for the senseless carnage it was and decided to go to college, become an engineer and pioneered the first true cybernetic augmentations. She could have done it too. She had achieved mild fame as a teen for her achievements in the field, had been offered full rides to a number of schools. She could have made something great, gone done in history and gotten medical schools named after her. But she didn't. She allowed herself to get suckered into the trap of blind patriotism against her mother's wishes and lost any chance she had of making something of herself. Kaz tightened her grip on the, grinding her teeth as she waited for a reply. The awkward silence was making her wish she hadn't even bothered trying to be social. Why did she put effort into being a normal person if she knew it was just going to fall flat?

Bykov eased up a little when Takai finally answered, cursing quietly to herself as she missed a turn. "No you don't."She grunted in response. "Or at least you should not wish that. Serving overseas changes people for worse and not better, most of the time. You do things that are not good to people who may or not be not good for a cause that is not important." Not too dissimilar to the NSF really but she knew better than to tell her partner that. "Being a policeman isn't bad. It's good you have meaning again."

Carefully Kaz doubled back on herself, managing to snake the APV through a back alley and back onto the right path. "When I was in Afghanistan and Iraq, sometimes I would go on patrol. When we would be called to a village there would be unrest because people didn't like us. My friends carried rifles and I had the machine gun. Bu we would get out of our car and the first thing we unholstered were our pistols and machetes. They are execution weapons so people got scared when we brought them out. I remember one boy looked me in the eye when I did that. He did not say a word but he did back away and left. Later we were going a house and arrested his father. The son reached for a knife and I threatened to blow his father's head off. He stopped."

She didn't really have a reason for sharing that story. Maybe she had intended to show him what she had had to do to survive. Maybe she just needed to vent. The why didn't matter anymore, she had shared her story and it was up to Takai to interpret whatever meaning he could from it. She needed at the mention of the tea party, drumming her fingers against the wheel as she fumed. Kaz pulled to stop in front of one of the many shabby tenements that lined the Exclusion Zone, down a ways from the suspect's house. "Fuck them. There is more important work they could be doing. The NSF does not get what it pays for."That was about all she had to say on the subject, coasting the APV to a stop down a few building from the target's house.

She gave Takai a nod at the order, switching on her camera feed and giving him a silent thumbs up. Usually she preferred to work in teams for this kind of thing but Takai was the cop after all. She was content to sit and wait for him until he needed her, or she was until another car pulled up mere moments after he stepped inside. It was nothing special, a white van that was more than a little weather-worn, but the person who stepped out of the driver's sit was. Kaz switched on her mic and took a second look to confirm the identity before calling in to Takai. "The target has just arrived outside, she is about to enter after you."

The situation should have been resolved before it had even started. Takai was inside and already on the alert, she would be taken completely by surprise. But when four armed men wearing body armor hopped out of the van things got a little more unpredictable. Kaz counted two assault rifles, one shotgun and one DMR, all military grade and all aimed at the doorway. This was an ambush, the Jinrai had set them up. "Four more, all armed, waiting outside!"

Takai didn't have surprise on his side anymore. The one advantage he did have was that it was only supposed to be him present. The Jinrai operatives wouldn't be expecting back up. There was no way Kaz would be able to make it out of the car and grab her gear in time, she would need to use the weapon she was already sitting. With a twist of a key the APV rumbled back to life, Kaz stomping on the gas pedal and tearing off towards the opposition with a squeal of tires.

-----------

"Oh of course you will." Daiyu agreed amicably. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have assumed."The businesswoman's smile didn't falter even as Ashton flashed a shit-eating grin of his own, wondering if she had been this insufferable at his age. "Bold question Hyuga-kun, bold question indeed. My taste is expensive, more than you can afford if that's what your asking." She let her grin fade into a wry ghost of a smile, waving away her answer with the fan. "I'm joking of course. In truth my taste in men and women matters very little. I work anywhere from 60 to 90 hours a week, not counting my duties for the NSF. It would be something of a wasted effort trying to find someone who can keep up with that." She didn't feel compelled to explain that those hours were split between managing legitimate stock portfolios and keeping all manner of illegal operations in play.

As Ashton continued to prattle on Daiyu was almost impressed. There was a certain quality about the way he played at being a cute kid and a clever conversationalist. Maybe it was the sheer cheek of it. Either way, if he thought being a horny teen was going to make him likable then he was welcome to continue. She'd wear her mask and let him prance around in his until he got too close. "Please, you flatter me." she demurred. "I simply want to helpmy home protect itself against an insidious internal threat as thanks for all it's given me."

Did this asshole just use the word Freudian?

He had indeed, but his grandiose words revealed a hunger for status that Daiyu was very familiar with. Perhaps he'd be a thread she could tug on later to help her unravel her problems. She glanced at the laserdisk curoiusly, taking it with a gracious nod. "I'll make sure to have my staff give it a look then. Thank you Ashton."

Greedy little bastard.

Turning back to Chelsea Daiyu gave the younger socialite an approving nod, using a single metal finger to stir her tea a bit more. "I know the place yes but I'm afraid I've never visited it. Clearly I'll have to change that." No matter what other qualities you could ascribe to her (airheaded, bimbo, drunkard, better suited to being a strip club waitress, the list went on) she did have good taste in kimonos. "Elegant and beautiful, your clothes match their owner it seems." The name Unicomm 8000 Total Protection was promptly filed away in her memory to have someone look into and the rest of the valley girl's words ignored. The other American and his working girl boy thing were busying smoking themselves to death, Daiyu noticing with some distaste just where Margo produced that lighter from. Switching into perfect English for the time being the con artist gave Chris a winning smile and spoke to him. "Welcome to the NSF Chris. I look forward to getting to know you better." And she did. Whatever "incidents" Ashton was talking intrigued her. Whether they were true or not didn't matter, rumors could often be just as revealing.

"And Margo darling, I didn't forget about you. Your sense of style is striking as always, you need to share tips with me! In fact you and I are going to schedule a shopping trip sometime, my treat. And I'm not going to hear any arguments about it!" There was absolutely nothing about Margo's fashion she liked but those on the outskirts of society tended to be the easiest to manipulate.

"Seo, something tells me that that little warning we got this morning had to do with you.” She had switched back to Japanese, her voice one of near motherly concern. “We all respect your dedication but please consider taking it a little easier from now on? Who else in here is going to give me a decent sword fight if you die?"

@LetMeDoStuff @GoreLore @Landaus Five-One @Letter Bee @MK2 @silvermist1116

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Takai didn't seem to be in any rush to drive so Bykov took the lead, doing one final check of all her gear before staring the engine. What was the point of not having any identifying markings on a vehicle if it was going to be the most conspicuous thing on the road anyway? Any idiot could see that it wasn't just some adrenaline junkie's modified offroader, it was too big, too imposing. With it's top mounted lights and solid black paint job it would have looked more at home running over protesters in the streets than going for a leisurely cruise. It reminded Kaz of the Humvees and JLVTs she had used to negotiate the mountains and plains of Afghanistan, all it was missing was the hatch mount for her minigun and a different coat of paint. Really this whole "shadow war" reminded of her time in country. She had done the same house to house clearing there that she was doing here, a foreigner coming in to tear apart family homes in search of hidden weapons and terrorists that may or may not have even existed.

If she closed her eyes for long enough she could still go back to Bagram Air Base. She had spent enough hours sitting there that she could picture the blankets on her bunk, smell the sewage from the main city of Bagram baking in the one hundred plus degree heat. There had been no escape it, the odor of food trash, offal, and human waste creeping under doors and through cracked windows, just fermenting as fans pushed around humid air. It was the first thing she had noticed when she got off the C-130 that took her there, her nose wrinkling as she was greeted by her new squad. You got used to it they had told her, and they had lied. You could never truly get used it, you simply tuned it out as best you could. Sometimes it would come back to her while she was eating and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up.

"The edge of the Southern Exclusion zone, Estate 19. I understand." The APV lurched out of it's spot, Kaz having never been especially lightfooted in vehicles of any kind, and up the ramp out of headquarters and into the light of day. With one hand lightly resting on the wheel the bear of a woman guided her beast of a vehicle past the checkpoints and into NeoTokyo proper. There was a good bit of road to cover to get to the Exclusion Zone, plenty of time for her demons to catch up with her if she let them. To stave off the memories Kaz opted to make inane small talk, no matter how bad at it she was. "Takai, where you ever in the military overseas?"She had never asked about his service record but the encounters with the pathetically unqualified Margo and the dangerously inept Chelsea had placed the question fresh in her mind.

-----------------

Now things had gotten interesting. Margo and the disheveled American were an "intriguing" sight to be sure, looking more like a sex tourist in the red light district and his escort of dubious age than a pair of investigators given the power to kill by the Japanese government, but they might as well have not existed at all once Chelsea entered the garden. Chelsea Riley O'Connell, heir to the Halifax Company and unknowing participant in an underworld power struggle. The father of the girl she had gotten killed, Hattori Akechi had been a major figure in the Yakuza at one point before the Daichi family ousted him with the help of the Yamaguchi-gumi, and the man who had owned her during her tenure as a strip club waitress was in deep with the Yamaguchi as well. In fact, his father was Hattori's right hand man and a Yakuza mole, reporting on everything that went on.

And Daiyu knew all of this because she was at the center of it. The Guarri Ace strip club was one of the fronts she used to launder money and one of the places she knew could always be called on to entertain some of her more prestigious clients or dispose of a body or two. It was one of the linchpins of her web, important enough that if Nobunaga ever stepped down or was killed it would pass directly into her possession. It was not for sale and never would be. So when she found out Chelsea had managed to get a position in the NSF she had taken notice, watching her like a hawk whenever possible. Of course, it wasn't polite to stare so Daiyu had to settle for listening in on her conversations and taking note of her movements but that was alright. She was nothing if not observant. "Chelsea, looking lovely as always. Such a gorgeous kimono, you have to tell me where you got it!" If she looked back through her notes she'd probably figure it out herself, it wasn't hard to track the movements of a buxom blonde Californian through the capital of Japan.

Ashton was making a fool of himself as was to be expected of a sixteen year old boy, "discreetly" eyeing up his comrades and pestering them with tales of his skills. Insufferable yes, but a potential problem she would be careful to avoid. There was a good reason her computer, tablets and phones were kept in shielded bags. His story about hacking the NSF sounded like typical teen bullshit but he had been hired after all. Out of everyone besides Chelsea she would have to keep the closet eye on him, make sure he didn't need to be bribed, bullied, blackmailed, seduced or shot.

For now she could settle for having some fun with him.

"It's so nice to see such a sweet young man with an interest in politics!" she cooed, giving Ashton her best "Aren't you adorable?" look. "Intelligent and brave enough to join the NSF, you'll make the girls very happy!" Her cybernetic arm dug into a well concealed pocket of her kimono and retrieved a folding fan, Daiyu spreading it in front of her face to conceal her light laugh. She wondered if he would pick up on the secondary meaning, watching him even as she sipped her tea.

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Once she had vocalized her opinion on her fellow agent's apparent need of a watchful eye Kaz turned back to her plate and finished her meal, caring more about the few remaining bits of egg on her plate than a weak link whose first action was to kiss the ass of the first superior they could find. God, the NSF was really letting in anyone it seemed. Had Margo ever actually been in a fight? That seemed unlikely. Just how many incompetents and failures was she expected to work with. The lumbering bear of a woman was grateful that Takai seemed more talkative than she was at the moment. He was the people person, not here. Better to let him handle the children before she snapped and screamed at one of them. She shrugged at the mention of a better bed and a companion to fill it, fumbling around her pockets for another cigarette. "They all sound very nice." she replied, her hesitant Japanese concealing her lie. Lighting up and taking a puff Kaz leaned back in her chair, waiting for Takai to discretely signal Margo to leave.

The sharp elbow to the ribs made her grunt in annoyance, turning her head to glare at the more experienced operative. "I would appreciate if you did not do that." Her tone was level but only just, her teeth grinding the butt of her cigarette as she drummed her fingers against the table. Just that little annoyance was enough for her to get pissed off, Bykov blowing smoke through her nostrils as she began to count to herself.

One, two, three, four...

By the time she got to ten it had subsided, Kaz awkwardly clapping a hand on Margo's shoulder. "I apologize. You will do fine." Neither a stellar apology or especially reassuring, it was the best he was going to get. Kaz had already dropped Margo from her mind, focusing on Takai and the face on his datapad. "You're going on a mission? I will come with." Anything to escape the monotony of daily life in the HQ. All she could do there was sit in her room or send time in the gym. It wasn't like she had many friends. Kaz stood up and followed her temporary partner out o the cafeteria, passing Asagi and Chelsea on her way. A limp wristed wave was all the answer Asagi got, but it was better than what she gave Chelsea. Her fellow American, another utter fuck up who shouldn't have been let out of the house without a safety helmet and bright yellow vest. Margo being scared was one thing but this bitch got the girl she was supposed to be protecting killed cuz she was too shitfaced to function properly. Any fireteam she was on was instantly weaker, endangered by the incredibly liability that was the Californian whore who had been hired for her looks."I hope you know that if I see you drink a single drop, I will boot your ass back on the street corner where it belongs so fast my foot's going to break the fucking sound barrier." she warned, switching to their shared language. "Just a little something for you to keep in mind."

Once in the armory she set about checking out all her gear, craning her neck to shoot Takai a questioning glance. "Am I driving?"

-----------------


Daiyu had to force herself to get ready for the tea party that was being held. She knew that she really ought to go, both to socialize with her teammates and to keep her cover strong, but there was absolutely nothing enjoyable about any tea party she had ever attended. The food was always insubstantial pastries and delicate snack foods, most of the conversation dreary and dull. She didn't even like tea all that much, preferring coffee or energy drinks to keep her going. And it wasn't like the people attending made up for it. Out of all the obscenely wealthy gangsters, movie stars, tycoons, heirs and heiresses she dealt regular, it was the ones that stood on ceremony that were her least favorite. Whether they were stuffy New Englanders that insisted on a morning scotch before going to go play polo or hardline Japanese nationalists that talked about the the glory of the days of the samurai, 95% of them were assholes. There where many other things that she would could have done instead of consort with some douchebag who still insisted on making their drink with a bamboo whisk because "that's how it was in the good old days."

But consort she must, since her whole identity was built around being one of those stuffy losers herself. So after a long shower and a few minutes spent sending put emails to clients and arranging the purchase of yet another "Geisha" bar that catered to drunk American sailor on leave she began to get ready. Her hair was tied up in a bun and speared through with ornamental pins, the tattoos on her back and ribs covered by one of the kimonos in her closet, deciding to forgo the risque look she sometimes favored when dealing with lecherous old men. Better to play it safe for now. Her phone was set to silent and the wooden geta kept in her bag slipped onto her feet and off she went, clacking loudly down the hallways and into the Emperor's Garden. A name that seemed to promise pretension, how lovely.

She arrived with a pleasant smile on her immaculately made up face and her robotic hand hand free for all to see (it made for good conversation), ready to exchange meaningless pleasantries in the name of societal custom. Taking a quick look around she took stock of who had shown up so far: Ashton Andrews-Hyuga, the NSF's resident hacker and schoolboy, was looking adorably out of place in the suit he had probably bought for himself and the tie he definitely had. Seohyung Kamenashi, Suicidal Seo. He looked like his nickname with the bandages. If Daiyu had to guess it had been him that made Command issue a warning about killing yourself in training. And of course the man of the hour, Takashi Skygge himself. Time to kiss ass and see how he responded.

"Good afternoon and thank you for the invitation Skygge-san." she said politely, giving him a bow. "I'm grateful for your hospitality." As she rose up she let her eyes shine at the sight of his suit. "Is that Shiriku's handiwork? You have very good taste." She busied herself until 2 by staring at the hand drawn dragon, the first actually interesting thing she had seen so far. At least as far as artwork was concerned, Takashi seemed good enough. Without a coat to put away Daiyu simply took a sit, silently annoyed that her assumption about the food was correct. But like a good guest she showed nothing except an easygoing contentedness, playing the part of cultured billionaire.

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Kaz had woken up at 3 in the morning, bolting upright in a cold as she felt a man's skull crack against her own, heard the disgusting gurgling of someone choking on their own blood. The noise had served as a sort of alarm clock for the past four years of her life, never letting her go more than a few hours without remembering what she had done and become. What time was it now? She had no idea. Some unspecified number of hours had passed with her having stared at the wall, the butt of an extinguished cigarette still hanging loosely from the corner of her mouth. She dropped it to the floor where it joined a pile of its brothers, Kaz carelessly sweeping them under her bed with her foot. With a hoarse groan she slipped from the bed and into the bathroom to stare at herself in the mirror. Dull green eyes, lifeless and cloudy with lack of sleep, peered back out at her as she brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Her clothes were next, putting on her uniform and tugging on her boots. One of the duties described in her contract was to "present yourself as befitting an officer of the NSF entrusted with emergency powers to protect the constitution of Japan" so she did, putting on a mask and trying present herself as a functional member of society. Was she ever successful? Who knew. It didn't really matter, routine and structure was all she had.

The next step in the procedure was breakfast. The heels of her boots clacked loudly through the hallways of the NSF headquarters, the foreign born woman towering over nearly everyone she came across. Had she been capable of feeling such a thing anymore she would snickered at the absurdity of it. How desperate was Japan that it needed to pad out the ranks of its elite task force with foreigners and mercenaries like herself? She wasn't even the only one. Chelsea, Tobias, Chris, it was almost comical really, the supposed best and brightest (and one 16 year old boy for fuck's sake) having to rely on a motley crew of people who had no stake in the fight. Any sane person would have resigned by now. Which was why she was still here.

Ignoring the chatter of the canteen Bykov got in the chow line and loaded her tray with enough food to feed two people. As a side effect of the artificial muscle fibers and the huge feats of physical strength she pushed herself into do she was nearly always hungry, snacking constantly to try and feed her metabolism. With a plate full of hashbrowns and scrambled eggs she sought out a place to sit, deciding on the seat across from Takai. She got along well with him, at least as well as she could get along with anyone. She took a seat and gave him and Shumei a nod, spearing a bite of egg on her fork. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" she asked politely in functional, if stilted, Japanese. She didn't wait for a response before tearing into her meal, looking down at her plate as she ate.

She sensed the presence standing by her before it said anything, electing to ignore it until the baritone "Hey" made her look up. "Hey yourself." she grunted, looking up at Margo. She knew very little about her (him?) and hadn't yet formed an opinion but now she was feeling even less confident in her team as a whole. "Perhaps if you need to ask someone to take care of you, you should find another line of work."

---------

Daiyu's routine had already started for the day, the self made multimillionaire have spent the early morning in quiet mediation. Out of all the skills her grandfather had taught her she was most grateful for the ability to quiet her mind. She remembered how'd she pout and whine when he instructed her to sit and relax, grumbling about how stupid it was. Mediation was something only monks and old men practicing Tai Chi in the park did, she wanted to learn to break boards and use swords! And she did, but not before she learned the importance of staying patient and calm. She never would have been able to have gotten as far in life (or even survived) without her daily meditation sessions, taking a few minutes before making any major decision to mull it over.

Today she had been thinking about her life and just how it lead to this point. She was a Chinese national from Hong Kong who had moved to Tokyo, fell into the criminal underworld, created one of the biggest stock brokerage firms in history with funding from the Yakuza, wormed her way into the contact lists and address books of numerous celebrities and politicians and was now a part of a task force dedicated fighting a rogue military unit turned terrorist organization. It read like a bad spy, her daily life a constant balancing act of trying to maintain three distinct identities while juggling updates from legal and illegal business associates. And thanks to that little press conference all of Japan would know if she messed up. The consequences for failure getting killed, or getting arrested and then killed. It was stressful at the best of times and terrifying at the worst.

And she loved it. Daiyu handled billions of dollars ever year, consorted with some of the most powerful men and women in the world, got access to files the government would never let see the light of day. Everyday was exciting whether it was spent handling military grade hardware or defrauding millions or stealing priceless works of art. Well that last one was more of a hobby than a job but still, it was pretty awesome. She was an outsider in a culture that was famously insular, and she had made it recognize her as a force to be reckoned with however grudgingly. Daiyu carried herself proudly as she walked to one of the many training halls, skipping the one with it's red emergency light flashing and one of her comrades rushing into it. That room was the lethal training room, possibly one of the dumbest ideas she had ever heard. What good was practicing with real blades and bullets? If you messed up you died, accomplishing nothing. Not mention the expense of of repairing the damaged and destroyed robots. She had never considered herself a traditionalist but there was such a thing as too much technology.


The empty dojo two doors down was much more her speed. Slipping out of her shoes and socks and stepping onto the mat, Daiyu took a wide legged stance. She unsheathed her sword and took a breath, releasing it as she thrust forward. Almost as quickly as the blade was extended she snapped it back, watching her form in one of the full length mirrors that lined the wall. Practical training was good, but it was worthless without reviewing the basics. And review she did, performing all manner of stabs and slashes on invisible opponents.

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Hey I'd love to drop a Character sheet, give me a moment if thats okay for me to join that is.

@GoreLore

It’s still open!

NEOTOKYO: State of Disarray [Open]

Kazankova Bykov

Name
Kazankova Dasha Bykov

Aliases
Casanova, Dasher, Kaz, Jack-Ov

Nationality
]American

Age
30

Sexuality
Bisexual

Birth
January 2nd, 2001, Guam

Appearance
There is no place in Neo-Tokyo where Kaz doesn't stand out. Taller than nearly every man she meets by a good few inches and towering over most women by nearly a foot, she has to duck to get through doorways. If her height wasn't enough of a give away there's also the matter of her pale skin and green eyes. She's very clearly not native to Japan or even Asia, a mercenary hired out to assist the NSF. She doesn't even bother trying conceal herself, standing with her back straight as she pushes her way through busy crowds with ease. She doesn't put any particular stock in her appearance, wearing the basic NSF uniform with it's armor removed in the field and the same set of jackets, shorts and t-shirt when not on duty.
Height
6 feet and 2 inches

Personality
Kaz is morose at the best of times and downright despondent at the worst. Ever since her Fangtech injector system malfunctioned levity has been a meaningless word to her, one she would never experience. On a normal day her face is permanently fixed into a near frown, usually only speaking when spoken to and not carrying conversations any longer than they have to go on. Her bad days are usually spent with her face screwed into a permanant sort of snarl, her brain unable to properly process her annoyance at being cut off in traffic or what have you so it turns into barely contained anger.

Role
Heavy Weapons and Support Specialist, can serve as a Breacher when needed.

Weaponry
-RIN-78 Minigun:A belt fed beast of a weapon. Weighing just under 100 pounds and capable of chewing through body armor, walls and light vehicles KAz is only able to handle this thanks to her cybernetically enhanced strength.
-Amaris EPDW:A lightweight grenade launcher marketed as an "explosive personal defense weapon,it can be loaded with up to six different grenades of varying types such as fragmentation, high explosive, breaching charges, chemical rounds and flashbangs.
-Pankration Gloves:Thick leather gloves reinforced with metal and circuitry that serve two purposes. The first is to simply allow Kaz to punch with her full strength without shattering the bones in her hand while ensuring she shatters someone else's. The second is to zap the person on the receiving end of the punch with twenty million volts of electricity.

Augments
Fangtech Injector System (Mk. Dasher): A modified version of the original injector system she was fitted with, this one has been specially insulated to make sure it can't be shocked into malfunctioning again. Besides that it functions the same as it used to, allowing her to release specially designed Berserker combat drugs into her system as needed. These drugs essentially keep her fight or flight instincts turned to Fight, increasing her reflexes and speed while also helping the body to stop bleeding faster. She will hit harder, faster and with no hesitation. The downside is that using them for too long a period will fatigue her organs, forcing her heart to beat faster and her kidneys to try and purge the toxins. Too long using them and she'll either suffer a catastrophic heart attack or simply turn into little more than an enraged beast.

The drugs are also based off her adrenaline levels. The more danger she's in the bigger an adrenaline rush she gets which in turns fuels the Beserker to push her harder.

Muscle Enhancement and Bone Strengthening: Dasher's muscles have been interwoven with synthetic threads to provide increased strength and protect them from tears. This allows her to carry her gear with little strain, as well as making her a formidable melee opponent with the ability to shatter concrete blocks. Her bones have been artificially subjected to repeated micro breaks and allowed to heal, grafts of thin metal coating her shins, elbows, ribs, spine and skull. The end result is a slight increase in physical durability, not enough by it itself to stop any but the lowest caliber of bullets can deflect glancing knife blows and shrapnel.

Eyes: Instead of relying on an external HUD Kaz has chosen to get it integrated directly into her eyes. She can choose to display all relevant information directly on her field of view as well as switching between normal, thermal and sonar vision. The third one in particular is very useful indoors, Dasher using it pick out targets behind walls and in cover before shooting through it.

Previous Careers
-United States Army
-Cardinal Command Security Consulting

Biography
Kazankova Dasha Bykov was born at Anderson Air Force Base Hopsital on the tiny island of Guam to Margaret Lyman, and American servicewoman, and Adrik Bykov, her Russian national husband. The marriage was already rocky and the birth of their daughter only seemed to worsen things between the couple. Before she was even one year old Kazankova's parents had separated. Margaret would have her during the school year, Adrik would take care of her during the summer months. And so her childhood was spent mostly on the move, traveling from base to base with her mother only to fly off to Moscow every June. It was hard to make friends this way, barely having enough time to settle into a school before being shuffled out and having to explain to every interested child that no she couldn't come over for pool parties and barbecues this summer, she had to go to Russia with her father.

Without any real friends available to hang out with young Kaz had to find ways to amuse herself, taking up an early interest in the fields of robotics, cybernetics and weapons technology. While waiting for her classmates to finish a test she would read magazine articles about improvements on prosthetic limbs, her room filled with various half completed mechanical devices she would tinker with before losing interest. Her life revolved around working out with her mother and dissembling and reassembling various household appliances to figure out how they worked, with very little in between. Whenever something went wrong she could bury herself in her hobbies. During the days after Tokyo was immolated in nuclear fire when her mom would pace the kitchen floor, on edge and preparing to be called up to go fight in some irradiated field, she almost never left her room.

Her interest in robotics flourished and by the time she was a senior in high school she had won multiple state and national level contests. These victories won her scholarships to a number of engineering schools and she was being heralded as the poster child for the next generation of robotics experts and cybernetics designers. But she decided against that, having had enough of formal schooling. Instead she became Private Bykov of the United States Army, much to the chagrin of both parents who had wanted more for her.

While in the Army Bykov volunteered for a number of programs that allowed her to field test cybernetic augments as they came off the production line, taking an interest in their inner workings. Most of them turned out to work fine, enhancing her capabilities in the field with little to no trade off. But the Fangtech injector system gave her pause. Kazankova had managed to get her hands on a copy of the blueprints and almost immediately spotted major flaws in the system. When she tried to raise the issue she was essentially ordered to shut up and get the implants. So she did, and for a year or so they did their job. She was faster, stronger, more dangerous and agressive, pushing through at any cost with almost no concern for her safety. It came at a cost of her humanity, Kaz feeling herself slip into the mindset of an angered bear every the drugs slipped into her system.

And it all went catastrophically wrong. When deployed to Afghanistan an IED set at a power substation she was guarding went off, the discharge of electricity overwhelming her injection system, triggering a massive overdose. Bykov dropped to the ground instantly, foaming at the mouth and bleeding from her eyes. She was left comatose for a week. There was a nurse on hand when she woke up which was how the alarm was raised. Kaz was still gripped by a murderous frenzy, snarling as she pummeled the nurse to death with her bare hands and blinded an orderly with a vicious headbutt before she could be subdued. It was another three months before she was able to go unrestrained, and a year after that before she was ruled as mentally stable.

There were no legal repercussions for her violent outburst. The courts found no fault with her, how could they? She had been ordered to use an unstable and untested set of combat drugs and it had unsurprisingly gone wrong. What she couldn't escape was guilt. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the look of shock and pain on the nurse's face, could hear a man's skull cracking and giving way as she drove her head into it. She was suffering from intense feelings of guilt and paranoia. More than that, she was no longer able to feel positive emotions. A side effect of her massive overdose was that her frontal lobe was permanently damaged, her emotional balance disturbed. Negative emotions such as anger and jealousy were magnified while any bit of happiness was so subdued it might as well as not been there.

Trapped in a sort of humorless nightmare and with nothing else to turn Kazankova became a mercenary, signing onto Cardinal Command Security Counseling as a heavy weapons expert and squad support, eventually getting loaned out to the NSF.

Affiliations
- Margaret Lyman (Mother)
- Adrik Bykov (Father)

Relationships [Optional]
TBD

Character Theme
TBD