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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 21, 2017 18:16:15 GMT -5
Sterling Daily
1/1/2000 - Bombing at The Tavern "The joyful New Year festivities were interrupted last night by a terrible event: a bomb was set off at The Tavern, killing three customers. It is believed that a terrorist group who calls themselves the Sentinels is responsible for this. They left a symbol on the scene of the crime, containing the marks associated with the seven heavenly virtues. It is thought that they view themselves as saviors and are trying to 'protect' Sterling City from evil, though they are evidently doing more harm than good. We have reached out to the Syndicate, who graciously continue to run this city every day, for comment."
Month/Day - Event
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2017 19:24:10 GMT -5
claim ]]
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 21, 2017 20:09:17 GMT -5
{Anastasia Nikolaev} -- {The Cathouse} -- {Midmorning}
Anastasia swung her feet gracefully over the edge of her four-poster bed, blinking slowly. The clock by her bedside read “9:57.” Yes, it was rather late, but as she stretched luxuriously she reminded herself that it was worth it; a girl needed her beauty sleep, after all. Besides, nothing fun ever happened early in the morning — night was the time for parties and devious dalliances.
She led herself slide off the swan down bed, her petite feet hitting the plush, carpeted ground. A knock sounded at the door. Anastasia knew that it was exactly 10 o’clock without even having to glance at the clock face; Imani was never late. She wouldn't dare to be, not with her mistress being who it was.
Anastasia glanced towards the door. “Come in, Imani.” The white door swung open silently and Imani glided in, already dressed and ready to meet the day. Anastasia smiled at the favorite of her girls. She was the most beautiful of them all, with cocoa-bronze skin, long dark tresses, and wide, doe-like eyes. Her looks were in stark contrast to Anastasia’s icy grandeur, marked by her pale cream skin. Anastasia had decided to make Imani her right-hand woman of sorts. She had more privileges than the others did, but the job came with a risk: constant proximity to Anastasia.
“Madame, how did you sleep?” Imani asked with a respectful tilt of her head. She made sure to smile as she swept towards Anastasia, pulling a plush white robe off a hook on the wall. Anastasia lifted her arms and allowed her to wrap the garment around her thin silk nightgown. Imani tied it deftly and then floated away.
“So, what would you like to wear today?” Imani asked as she flicked on the lights of the walk-in closet. The bulbs in the ceiling sprang to life, revealing rows and rows of fashionable skirts, bottoms, shirts, dresses and shoes, not to mention other accessories. The light glittered off of shiny metal buckles and jewels sown carefully into luxurious fabrics. They went through the same ritual every morning. Anastasia was rather peculiar about it.
Anastasia pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Well, you know I’m hosting important guests today: The Septet. I want to make an impression, have something nice to wear today. Nothing too indecent, if you know what I mean. I want to go with a classy look. Pick out a few options. I’m sure I’ll like something that you suggest. I always do,” she said, a rare compliment coming from her.
The woman made her way to the bathroom and turned the handles on her faucet. Icy water slid into the clean white basin in a torrent, and she splashed her face with it, barely wincing at the temperature. It was her daily ritual; cold water helped to wake her. She always wanted to be at her sharpest. Anastasia dried her face on a plush white towel and reentered her bedroom, where Imani stood waiting with a short scarlet dress. Anastasia immediately shook her head. “No, no. I wore that at the meeting three months ago. Think creative, Imani! I’m surprised you didn’t remember,” she said coolly.
Slightly chagrined, Imani disappeared into the closet once more, this time carrying a loose-fitting gray blouse and matching skirt. Anastasia deigned to try it on this time but one glance in the mirror and she frowned. “No, this just won’t do. Too frumpy looking. I want to impress them, you know.”
Imani nodded. “Yes, of course. Hm, what shall we try next?” The pair spent the next half an hour trying on outfits, going through two more dresses, another shirt/skirt combo and even a pantsuit before settling on a red silk blouse studded with gemstones that Anastasia recalled purchasing rather vividly. “I remember this one. It was wonderfully expensive — a few thousand dollars at the very least, though I honestly don’t remember — and I bought it for my thirtieth birthday. A present for myself. Yes, this is perfect,” she remarked, spinning in front of the mirror. She had paired it with a black pencil skirt and strappy scarlet heels.
Imani smiled and clapped her hands. “You’ll stun them all. You always do, Madame,” she said.
“You do pick out the best things for me to wear, dear. I don’t know what I would do without you. Now come, let’s do my makeup for the day.” The two walked through the closet to reach the vanity at the back, which had its own separate chamber. It had another door to the left that led to the bathroom and was large enough in its own right to be the closet of any normal person. Beauty products lined the walls, all neatly arranged. It looked almost like an Ulta or some other makeup store. Anastasia took a seat at the vanity. “I think I’ll have an updo today, nothing too fancy. How about that bun you always do? And my nail color is already fine, though maybe you could do another coat?”
Imani used a brush to pull up her Madame’s hair into an elegant twist and skillfully applied another layer of the scarlet polish. Then she quickly went through the basic steps for her daily preparation: moisturizer, foundation, concealer, and primer.
“I’ll take it from here, darling. I’m thinking a bold look. A smoky eye would look wonderful, paired with that navy eyeliner. What else?” She examined herself in the mirror. She had always liked putting on at least a fraction of her beauty products on herself.
Imani walked over the the stands to pick out the products she needed. She had done her own makeup perfectly a few hours before and was no stranger to beauty products. “How about this dark pink lipstick? And some mild contouring, though you don’t need too much if you’re going for dark eyeshadow.”
“Perfect.” Anastasia took the various tools and products from her and began to apply them. When she finally finished, her clock read "11:32." She stood, pushing back her chair. “How do I look, Ima, dear?” she chirped, using her pet name for her.
“Stunning. You’ll scare them all into submission with your beauty,” Ima remarked wryly, which earned her a pleased glance. The girl waited for the Madame to exit before shutting off the lights. They exited the bedroom and passed several long corridors of rooms before reaching the grand, spiraling staircase that led to the public downstairs area.
“So, I assume the staff tidied things up? And the rest of the girls and boys made sure all their things are out of sight?” she asked as they descended, alluding to the fact that Imani was the head of the house besides Anastasia herself. “I want everything to look spotless. The rest of The Septet can’t be thinking I don’t know how to host anymore. It has been an awfully long time since we’ve all met together. I can't wait for the fun to begin."
“Yes, yes, I’ve gotten everything in order. Though there is one thing I wanted to mention to you. The new girl has been causing some troubles. I caught her trying to run away last night. I thought maybe if you, ah, talked to her, she would change a bit,” Imani said with a slight smirk.
Anastasia’s gaze hardened at this news. “Ah, Laina, right? I’ll speak to her. Where is she?”
“She’s in the courtyard, now. I put her on gardening duty, told her to think about what she’d done. I’ll take you to her.” The pair headed out to the garden, which was a large, beautiful area filled with flowers and pathways to walk through. It was perfect for a romantic stroll at night. Usually there were gardeners, but sometimes Imani used gardening duty as a punishment; none of the girls wanted to wallow in the dirt.
“Laina? I’ve brought Madam Anastasia to talk to you,” Imani said, her voice hard and clipped. They found the new girl planting new bulbs right off the main path. The girl looked up, her gaze guarded. She was as attractive as any of the other girls but she had a wild, natural beauty about her. Her billowing, fiery hair made her look rather fearsome.
Anastasia was not intimidated by her glare. “Stand up and come over here,” she ordered, patting a nearby bench. “Don’t get any of that dirt on me. Now, come sit on this over here while I speak to you. I heard that you tried to escape last night, hmm?” she inquired, her voice sickly-sweet. When the girl did not answer, she continued. “That’s not acceptable, you know. Though I’m sure Imani has already told you so.”
Suddenly, she darted forward, grabbing Lana by the neck, her sharp nails digging into her skin so hard that she drew blood. The scarlet drops started to bead, but Laina didn’t flinch. “Don’t do that again, dearie, or you’ll find that you don’t get off so easy. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? I was like you once, a new girl. I had my doubts, but I learned my lesson. You will too. Eventually. I worked my way up in the ranks. If you work hard and be a good girl, I think you can too. And lastly, Laina, a warning. I murdered my Madame with my own hands. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to do the same to you if you don’t live up to potential,” she said calmly, her eyes dancing with the threat.
Imani stood by, her gaze unreadable. Laina nodded, her face blank. “Of course,” she replied blandly.
Satisfied, Anastasia stood and clapped her hands together, acting as if her conversation with Laine had not happened. “Good, good. Now come, Imani. I’m sure it’s getting rather late. The others should be arriving too.” She sashayed off, head held high.
They crossed through The Cathouse once more, quickly this time. Imani pushed through the magnificent doors of the grand entryway, and Anastasia stepped outside. She stood at the top of the white marble stairs leading to the street, surveying the traffic. The woman allowed herself a cold little laugh as the first vehicle pulled up, tires squealing on the asphalt. “Come stand next to me, Ima, and be sure to smile when we greet them. We want to make a good impression.”
She grinned, though it was not a kind grin. It was time for the games, the lies, the madness, and the mischief to begin.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 21, 2017 20:10:24 GMT -5
ooooh boi, Anastasia be laying the scene~ I got Al's response up and ready, but it'd be much better to go after everyone else's. However, I could just post it now if you guys would prefer that
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 21, 2017 20:16:56 GMT -5
I'd say go for it! Unless you'd really rather wait, of course. But it would be fun to get the action rolling with the Septet. So honestly it's your call!
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 21, 2017 20:19:21 GMT -5
aight, I'll go with ur judgment then ;p
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 21, 2017 20:19:33 GMT -5
The room was silent save for the sound of the abused punching bag, each hit causing the object to sway and rock back and forth on its steel chain. It was the way he liked it and it was known that he did not appreciate distractions or interruptions to his morning rituals, so why anyone dared knock on the door was beyond him. Reaching out to steady the swaying bag, he glanced up, sweat dripping down his hairline and face. His features were unreadable even as he tilted his head, observing the nervous man who cracked the door open hesitantly. "Can I help you?" The level tone in which he spoke was easily mistaken for kindness and understanding, but those who worked for him knew better.
"I - I'm s-sorry, but-" The man's stammering bothered him to no end as he grabbed his towel from where he had left it, slung over a wooden chair, and walked up to the shorter man. Wiping away the sweat in his brow, he raised an eyebrow.
"We've talked about this, Philip," his voice was disarmingly soft, "Calm down."
"I-" Phillip shut his mouth, ceasing his stammering almost immediately. Alphonse watched as the man drew in a shaky breath, nodding, "Sir, I know you don't want to be interrupted in the morning but... there's been an attack."
Whatever annoyance he had been harboring seconds ago dissolved, quickly replaced by curiosity. "Attack?" He repeated, discarding the spent towel onto a table. Well, that was an interesting choice of words.An attack in their territory? Simple civilian on civilian violence or... He raised his gaze, looking at Phillip for the man to continue. His gaze only seemed to cause the man to shrink away.
He understood where Phillip's fear came from. Phillip and Gregory had been the only two present when he had killed Theo. It had not been one of his best moments, admittedly. He chose to rule with respect, but the event had led to fear. A shame, truly. "Yes, sir, there was an attack on [Gluttony's] racket by those vigilantes."
"I see," he hummed, leading Phillip out of the training room. "Thank you, Phillip."
He watched as the younger man nodded, hesitantly and moved to leave. "Do you require anything else, sir?"
Smiling, he nodded, "Get my car ready." He watched as Phillip left, the receding figure disappearing behind a closed door. It had been awhile since he had enter the training room. There was no point really, not after the only man who dared to be his sparring partner died. He had liked Theo, actually. The man was sensible, fearless, and loyal. The only problem Theo had was he never owned up to his mistakes. There were few things Alphonse hated more than a liar and that was exactly what Theodore J. Lin was.
Heading to his room for a quick shower, Alphonse mulled over what had happened. He never assaulted his own members, never hurt them. But Theo was an exception. He lied because he had been afraid, and Alphonse had taught those underneath him a valuable lesson. Fear was not the enemy and failure was not tolerated. Theo had failed to understand either one and he had proved to be a disappointment. Loose ends were always tied up, and Theo was no different.
Wiping his hair dry, he glanced into the mirror and frowned at his disheveled hair. He couldn't go out looking like that. Sighing, he grabbed his gel bottle and brush, slicking his hair back neatly. Better. Theo had known there was a price to pay for failure and an even larger price to pay for lying to Alphonse about it. The man had begged him, desperate for forgiveness. Alphonse had not been angry. He had simply made an example of Theo.
Adjusting the bow tie, he finally felt content with himself. Smoothing out his suit, he headed out of his bedroom. He could forgo breakfast. There were more important matters. For example, he couldn't allow [wrath] to get any brilliant ideas in the space of his absence. Whatever actions The Sentinels had taken would come with consequences, but in times of turmoil appearances were important. Be unruffled and unperturbed. The Sentinels wanted a reaction, giving them none would take away their satisfaction.
Heading out, he spotted Philip standing beside the black 1969 Dodge Charger fiddling with his cuff links. Upon hearing Alphonse's approach, however, the younger man's head snapped up and he stood to attention. "Sir," Philip greeted, eyes flitting about in a poor attempt of concealing his nervousness. Alphonse couldn't help but chuckle. Philip was a good man, but he wasn't built for a life of violence. He was lucky Alphonse had picked him up when he had.
"Come along, Philip," he sighed, moving past the other man to open the door to the driver's seat. His words caught Philip by surprise because the man froze in place for a good fifteen seconds before hurrying into the passenger's seat. "I'm going to need a second opinion," he explained without saying anything. Somehow, he suspected Philip was even more confused than he was originally and he smiled slightly at the thought.
"S-Sir forgive me for asking, but what would you need my opinion for?" The man shuffled nervously in his seat. Jesus, Philip was about as restless as a newborn kitten.
He glanced over to Philip as he casually drove through the streets, taking his time. He tapped on the steering wheel, smiling slightly. "We're going to pay our inadequate friends at the police headquarters a visit." Those words did not seem to sooth Philip's nerves at all as the man swallowed thickly and nodded, keeping silent. Alphonse had never had a problem with the silence, but the fear... He didn't like fear - not in the hearts of those who followed him. "You know, Philip," his gentle voice was enough to cause the man to glance up, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. "You shouldn't have been there. But I must have you understand that what happened to Theo was a necessity. I can't have a weak link."
To his surprise, Philip was much better at holding his tongue than he had first anticipated because the man took his time to answer. "I... I understand that, but... I saw something I wasn't supposed to see." Ah, so that was what it was.
Pulling into a parking space behind the station, Alphonse cut the engine and looked at Philip. He shook his head, an amused smile toying at the corner of his lips. "You have yet to disappoint, Philip. You'll be fine." The words seemed to relieve some of the tension in Philip's shoulders as the man nodded, relaxing slightly. "Now, come along. Without Theo, I'll need your opinion."
Many people referred to him as manipulative. He always believed himself to be cunning, not manipulative. Empty holes had to be filled, and trust had to be fixed to obtain loyalty. Those were facts. Philip was terrified of him and that made him susceptible to betraying Alphonse's trust in him. How'd the saying go again? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Philip was neither, but he had a high chance of becoming an enemy if he acted out upon his fears.
He allowed Philip to lead the way, hanging back a bit to watch the way the man handled himself. Apparently he was only nervous when speaking to Alphonse, because Philip projected a mask of control and authority to the police officer - easily demanding access to the police chief's office. Alphonse grinned, that was more like it. He liked talented individuals and despite Philip's shortcomings, he had a skill set that was useful. Not many people could talk their way to what they wanted.
As they neared the Police Chief's office; however, Philip had the sense to hold the door for Alphonse - allowing him to take the lead. Sensible and talented, it was a surprise Philip had been keeping these talents under lock and key compared to Theo who flaunted his skills. Nodding his head, he entered the room and glanced across at the Police Chief who had the gall to look sheepish. The man smiled to him with his all too wide grin complimented by yellowing teeth, a distracting mustache, and the world's most beady eyes that made the man look more rat than man. "Always nice to see you around here, Mister Fournier!" Had the man sound any sweeter, Alphonse would have escorted himself to the door and ended the conversation there, but shamefully there was business to be conducted.
"The pleasure is mines, Commissioner Lewis," he answered simply as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down across from the man. Though Anthony Lewis was an imposing man of formidable height, Alphonse found little reason to fear the man and much less to respect him. Two could play the Commissioner's game. "I'm certain you've had news of the recent attack on a friend of ours have you not?" The emphasis on ours made the Commissioner wince internally and Alphonse could see it in the look in the man's eye.
"Yes, news just came in awhile ago," Lewis answered, looking apologetic. He would lose his entire left hand before he actually believed that the Commissioner knew what shame was. "I'm sorry about what happened, but from what I've heard nobody was hurt in the encounter. It was just a few bottles of good scotch and wine that were lost in the explosion. I'm certain we'll get leads on the attackers in no time."
"So," he spoke slowly, voice alarmingly even, "You're saying you don't know who did it?"
"Absolutely no clue," Lewis said almost happily.
Smiling, Alphonse nodded. Fair enough. "Well then, please do tell me when you have a lead, Commissioner. It would be a shame if something were to happen if these criminals aren't caught." The sharp insult in the kind words did not go unnoticed by Lewis and the threat was evident. "Thank you for your time," he added with a cherry on top, standing up to leave.
"Wait!" The words almost had a hint of desperation in them - almost. "Mister Fournier, one more thing.... There was a note." Now that was interesting.
"A note?" He repeated as Lewis nodded eagerly, wanting to return to the capo's good side. The man raised up a finger, a gesture suggesting Alphonse waited and so he did. He watched as Lewis dialed in a number and exchanged a few choice words and then all of a sudden Lewis was grinning at him as if they were on friendly terms once again.
"My boy's bringing it up here right away, Mister Fournier. It might help you out."
"Thank you."
It wasn't as quick as he had hoped, but then again, it was rare to even see the police headquarters busy with activity so he took what he got. As the young constable extended the bagged evidence to him, he gingerly handled the bag to look at the pristine piece of paper the note was written on. Not a single hint of dust, ash, or soot was on it. There was no way this was retrieved from the scene of the crime. He read the words written in careful print slowly. Your move. Interesting, truly interesting. He nodded, taking in the information without asking a single other question. Giving the constable the piece of evidence back, he tilted his hat to Commissioner Lewis. "I'll be on my way. Good luck with the case, Commissioner."
It did not take a genius to see Philip was not only confused, but slightly baffled by the events that transpired as he followed Alphonse to the car. Glancing at the man he waited for Philip to say something, but the man did not utter a word. He was awaiting a prompt. Sighing, Alphonse pulled out his car keys. "What is it, Philip?"
"I... I don't understand why you were so polite to Lewis. His job depends on you and he's obviously withholding evidence and information." Philip looked angry for him and Alphonse found it almost endearing. Almost. "Besides, even an idiot could tell it was done by The Sentinels!" The younger man was fuming.
Chuckling, he shook his head as he pulled the car door open. "Lewis has always been that way which is one of the few reasons why I kept him in the Police Headquarters. He's a smart man with an army of inadequates at his command. He makes it interesting."
"Interesting," Philip repeatedly blandly. "He's not telling us the truth."
"He just doesn't want any of the information to come back to haunt him. He gives me what I need to hunt down the leads and he gets to save the day with no blame from the public," Alphonse explained, choosing to be patient with Philip who slipped in next to him. "It's a situation that allows both of us to get what we want without interfering too much with the other."
Choosing to focus on the road rather than Philip, he listened as the other man exhaled shakily. This was Philip's first time into the world of politics and psychological warfare, it was understandable. He had no doubt Philip would catch on soon enough. "I... I think I get it," the man whispered quietly and Alphonse grinned. That's more like it.
Pulling the car up to the Cathouse he placed the gearshift into parking and glanced at Philip. "You have to stay outside with the others, Philip." He almost said the next words cheekily, but he kept his tone rather even despite his amusement.. "Stay on your best behavior, I'll be back soon." Getting out of the car, he headed up to the doors of the establishment, eyeing the other capos' guards and trusted men of honor. Well, they were quite nervous from the looks of it.
He nodded to the men and women congregated, heading inside as Philip stayed outside with the others. At least he could say Philip was well trained enough to sit when he told the man to. He wasted no time taking in his surroundings as he headed directly towards the other capos. Somehow he could feel that a number of them didn't share his sentiment about keeping a level head about the situation. Well, he supposed there was no better time than now to work on his diplomacy. "It's been awhile since we've gathered in one place," he said with a hint of snark in his voice and a grin on his face. "Maybe we should get attacked more often if it brings us back together."
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 0:04:39 GMT -5
i have pmed u my forms my dude ]]
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 15:46:09 GMT -5
i have Re PMed you my forms my dude :^) ]]
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 22, 2017 15:58:58 GMT -5
Hey, no need to re-pm. I doubt Xia's on right now, and she'll take a look at them as soon as she gets on.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 16:41:02 GMT -5
'm checking 'em out rn Also do u want to write the first sentinels post or do u want me to, Cre? I don't mind either way
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 22, 2017 16:49:45 GMT -5
I can't rn since I'm outside getting some exercise, but if you don't feel up to it, don't feel pressured. I'll work on my starter when I get home. So honestly it depends if you feel like it.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 16:50:58 GMT -5
'mkay, I'll work on it after my response to my 1x1 thread with my friend. Gotta give Will some love too xD
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 17:21:51 GMT -5
☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ i was fixing mistakes and u cant edit pm posts so anyway they are Looking Better ]]
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Post by вlue вlood on May 22, 2017 17:35:12 GMT -5
my dudes i'm so excited my excitement is outweighed only by my exhaustion c';
i'll get writing tomorrow! c:
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 22, 2017 17:46:10 GMT -5
Oops, my bad Dozier! You're totally fine. And yay, sounds good Blue! Sleep always comes first.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 17:53:40 GMT -5
my dudes i'm so excited my excitement is outweighed only by my exhaustion c';
i'll get writing tomorrow! c: dude, dude get some rest, I'm excited to see ur response! :'D
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 18:05:15 GMT -5
-screams- I'm trying to think of how to introduce Will with style but I'm drawing some blanks so I'll go do some chores, take a walk, and be back for that later lol
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 19:00:54 GMT -5
im so intimidated ]]
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 22, 2017 19:38:11 GMT -5
No worries, Xia! Take your time. I kinda left this for a bit to check out some stuff about a writing contest on the WFF, so no judgement.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 21:51:45 GMT -5
aw, don't be intimidated Dozier! ]
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 22, 2017 21:58:30 GMT -5
@zaeridad - aw don't worry! We'll be here to help you out if you need it. Also, don't expect all of my posts to be like my starter, haha. I dunno about Xia and Blue, but on a bad day you shouldn't be surprised if I'm down to the minimum two paragraphs. I'm way too busy to type out a book for every response, lol.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 22:44:47 GMT -5
It was a nice sunny day, almost too sunny in his opinion. The sun hovering above radiated a disgusting amount of heat, enough that he had found sunglasses necessary. Wearing a simple polo shirt and khaki shorts, he found himself casually making his way down The Strip, taking in the sights and having a nice day overall. Pulling out a burner phone, he dialed in the all too familiar number of Inspector Ji Su Lee, a middle aged Korean officer who actually cared about her job in comparison to the other lazy, doughnut-eating officers working at HQ.
The phone rung twice and he wondered absentmindedly if she would let him go to voicemail. She'd done that on occasion and he suspected it was because she didn't want to feed his ego or perhaps it was because she knew his cheeky calls would end in another failure. One he assumed she wouldn't like very much. It didn't stop him from calling and it didn't stop her from picking up. Idly, he bumped into a tall man in a suit as he continued on his merry way.
Looking down at his hands, he analyzed the object he had picked off the man. It was an expensive brown leather wallet with at least two thousand in hard cash in it alongside at least three different credit cards and a number of exclusive membership cards and some gift cards to some of the richest joints around the block. It was the third ring when he heard her voice. "I don't have time for this, Anderson." She certainly sounded the part, exhausted and annoyed.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed in mock hurt, "Still on last name basis, Ji Su? I thought we were closer than that." He pouted despite knowing full well the woman would not be able to see it. Hell, she didn't even know what he looked like. Even if they had been walking down the same path, it would have been hard for her to identify him despite his expressive features.
"Anderson, stop messing around. You're being sidelined for a more important case," she huffed, not wanting to waste her time with him. More important case? Such a thing existed? There was no way! He was Sterling City's resident thief, infamous for a number of crazy heists including art museums, banks, and even the police headquarter's armory. He was going to call foul game on that statement.
"Aw hell no, girl," he said evenly as he shoved the brown wallet into one of the many pockets of his khakis. "You're pulling my leg."
He could hear the aggravated sigh over the phone. "Watch the news, Anderson." That was it. She turned the phone off on him. On him, William Anderson, infamous thief with only a name to a running list of fifty or so impossible heists! How absolutely rude of her!
But he decided to accept his fate, heading down to the Silver Streets to hit Moretti's joint, a small restaurant in The Square that housed eight regulars at most every few hours. Today was no different and the green and distinct sign in neat cursive script spelling out "Moretti's" blinked back at him as he opened the door, bell jingling overhead.
"Andy!" The old Italian man cried out, pleased to see him. After all this time, it still amazed him that Nunzio Moretti still managed to mix up his last name for his first name. Who in all of existence had the last name William? Wait. Robin Williams, Pharrell Williams, John Williams... Okay, point taken.
"It's Will, Nunzio," he huffed as he sat down at a table as the old man headed his way, menu in hands. The tv overhead was showing the daily news with the despicable face of Ioan Funar, the Romanian spokesman that was supposedly "to die for". The man was known for his "good looks" and "charming voice". Will saw neither as he made a face at the tv while Nunzio sat down next to him.
"What's for breakfast, boy?" Nunzio laughed, handing him a menu as he glanced up to the tv as well.
Not flipping open the menu he said his regular. "Club sandwich, Nunzio, you know me. And go easy on the mustard!" The man chuckled and patted his shoulder, leaving as he stared intently at the tv, choosing instead to pay attention to the obviously biased content rather than his distaste of the other man.
He watched as images of a burnt bar covered the screen and he felt sick. He knew that bar. It was The Tavern, it was Septet's. They had gone and did exactly the opposite of what he had said was a good idea. They'd bombed the bar. God, he was going to throw up. It was only by Nunzio's good grace that he tore his eyes from the screen as the old man sat back down, placing down the club sandwich gently and a glass of coca cola that he didn't order.
He didn't question Nunzio. He knew better than to question the Italian man, Nunzio was part psychic after all. He knew exactly what food item could get a guy to relax. Taking a big bite out of the sandwich, he carefully slid the wallet over to Nunzio having taken out all the membership cards and credit cards that could get Nunzio in trouble. The man picked it up, giving him an inquisitive eyebrow raise. "For the food, Nunzio."
"This is two grand, Willy," Nunzio said, almost critical. "How'd you get this kinda money?"
"Don't question it, gramps. Just take it, man," he huffed and Nunzio dropped the subject, pocketing the money. Silver streets or not, it was hard making money and he nodded, pleased that Nunzio took his offerings without too much argument. Nunzio used to argue with him, but now, he just accepted it.
Finishing his meal in silence with Nunzio's quiet companionship, he stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks, Nunzio!" He called back to the old restaurant owner, the jingle of the bell overhead familiar as always. Moretti's was like home to him and Nunzio was like the grandpa he never had, though he would not admit to either of those factors. Certainly not after the others had gone and pis-ed off the Sentinels. No siree.
Instead, he made his way through the Silver Streets looking for that nondescript house that looked the same as any other joint in the forsaken city. Even the numbers weren't special, nothing funny like 69 or 420 or 123. Nah, it was apartment complex number 37 and completely normal and boring from an outsider's perspective. Heck, even the inside was boring and normal!
But it was their meeting location and as he entered, he felt the sick feeling in his stomach from earlier replaced with indignant anger as he looked around for a target to yell at. God, what were they thinking?! Slowly and in an angry tone, he said the only words that came to mind. "Guys, what the absolute f-ck."
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 23:16:03 GMT -5
do the septets refer to each other as like lust and pride or ]]
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on May 22, 2017 23:20:33 GMT -5
I think they'd refer to each other by their names :')
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2017 23:30:25 GMT -5
Nicandro should have been wakened at the news of the bombing, but he wasn't. And not to any of his underlings' faults, in fact, he was alerted to the situation, he just didn't feel a need to get up immediately. One of his spies messaged him in the morning, but he had plenty of time to get ready, so he continued to play games until a servant came to his door. Said servant was greeted with a particularly withering glare with Nic's unusually disheveled hair.
"I know. I'll be out in half an hour. Have a car ready, and get Acardia," came the low grumble from under one blanket on the couch in his chambers.
"Y-Yes, sir, sorry sir, what w-would you like to eat?" The servant tripped nervously over his words, startled by his master's haphazard and irritated aura. Even though Nic wasn't prone to abusing employees, he still scared the hell out of them, especially the younger ones.
"The usual, kiddo," he sighed, and the servant nodded, scurrying out. Nicandro groaned and rubbed his eyes, them sore from staring at a screen all night. He felt gross, and not sleeping will do that to you. After a quick shower that had him smelling distinctly like eucalyptus mint, he dressed in a black suit with a navy blue button down, charcoal vest and matching tie. He found his way to his door, Steve Maddens clicking on the hardwood alerting his servant of his presence. The servant cowered again, offering out a tray of two portable tumblers and an egg sandwich.
"T-Two Thai iced coffees and a taylor h-ham, egg, and cheese on a b-bagel, sir," he stuttered, only then realizing that his master would have trouble carrying everything. "Oh, s-sir, I'm sorry, l-let me h--"
"It's cool, Simon, I got it. Is Acardia in the car? And which car?" Nicandro interrupted the kid tiredly, taking a tumbler and draining half of it immediately.
"Y-Yes, sir, he is, he's i-in the maserati." Nic nodded, pausing to empty the first cup before placing it back on the tray with a smile at Simon. He took the other and the bagel before pushing out of his house, a black maserati in front and a man in a white suit holding the back door open. Nicandro made eye contact with him before sliding into the car, door shut behind him. When Acardia got in the car, Nic spoke.
"Nikolaev's den, my friend," to which Acardia groaned at. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Me too." He sighed and unwrapped his bagel, quickly digging in.
"So, it was absolutely the Sentinels, right?" Acardia asked, shifting the car into gear and driving towards the main road.
"There's no way it's not," came the response, a yes. "But we probably can't really mention that out of the seven of us." It was dumb, politics, but Pride and his weird commissioner had their ways, and there was no reason for Nic to interrupt it. As long as he got his Thai coffee. Well, more than that, but still.
Following the short conversation, the ride was quiet save for the munching of Nic finishing his bagel and electro swing Acardia began to play, knowing what his boss likes.
Arriving at Nikolaev's den was cause for no celebration--Nic may not be a man of the "law" or the lord, but what Lust did, he didn't approve of. Taking people money and livelihood was fine, but using them like animals was... pretty terrible. He's sure some of them are there of their own volition, but prostitution was never fully consensual. Especially with the people it serves.
He was let in with his guard and found Fournier and the others gathered together. Nicandro smiled pleasantly, civilly greeting them.
"I'd have to agree with Alphonse, why is it that tragedies bring people together?"
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2017 0:30:48 GMT -5
"Will, Will, for God's sake, there's no need to shout," complained Kai, laying on the couch with an arm over his eyes. "It's been done, it's cool, those b*stards deserved it, they're just lucky none of them f*cking died, now please." He was definitely less concerned with Will's anger than he probably should be, but the son of a b*tch was loud, the lights were bright, and Kai was ready to break his knuckles on the man's face.
"Didn't you hear, anyway?" He questioned in a quieter voice, trying to settle back into the pillow his head was on. It wasn't the comfiest thing, nothing in this apartment was, but it had to do. Being summoned here first thing after a night of wallowing was no joy, and neither was a grown man practically knocking the door off its hinges to curse into the room.
"No one got hurt, just some of their booze. Chill. It's not like the loss of the property will damage them, they've got enough money to buy another country." Finally he moved his arm, squinting to look at Will at the doorway. The lights were too bright, there was a ringing in them that signified cheap bulbs with low wattage, and his headache worsened along with his mood. Kai himself didn't care about The Tavern, he cared about more monumental things, like Nikolaev's dens and her clients, Fournier's police squad, and Erzhanov's casinos. To hell with this city--the only way to get it back into a functioning society was to level it and build again. There was too much taint here, and the cleansing required was lethal.
The workers under Nikolaev's wing had no reason to be eliminated, but her employees and clients were infections. The police squad could never come back without a complete remodel that includes replacing every single member and looking over all the old case files. Personally, Kai wanted the police to die--they had done nothing but condone this behavior and hurt with people who really needed the help, along with the minorities. It was a surprise they tolerated Reed and Erzhanov--Fournier could pass, but that was still unexpected.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2017 0:31:14 GMT -5
i will definitely have shorter responses than yall, im warning you now and im Sorry ]]
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 23, 2017 16:01:10 GMT -5
That's okay Dozier! Your responses look great so far.
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Post by ☾ Cʀᴇsᴄᴇɴᴛ ☽ on May 23, 2017 17:29:13 GMT -5
Lin sat on a on an old park bench in an empty corner of the park, her head down. Large black sunglasses covered her cocoa brown eyes, obscuring her face from passerbys. She kept a sharp eye out for civilians as she needed to make an important phone call - then again, she always kept a sharp eye out. It was just who she was. Lin wiped her forehead; she was rather sweltering in her nondescript black bodysuit. Not that the fact would make her change out of her usual outfit. It was all purpose and despite offering almost full-body coverage, it was more breathable than most fabrics, including cotton. With one last, careful glance of the surrounding area, she pulled a cellphone out of her pocket.
It was nothing special. The old thing was a flip phone and a burner at that, untraceable. She wouldn't be so stupid as to use anything else. Technology had never been her favorite thing anyways. It was too complicated, with too many stupid, useless bells and whistles. She didn't approve, this is unless it was some sort of weaponized technology. That she could get behind. She could support any kind of weapon. With a flick of her hand she opened it and deftly dialed a number. She didn't keep contacts in her phone. It was too dangerous.
Lin placed the gray little thing next to her ear and let it ring. The douchebag better pick up, she thought irritably. Or I'll skin him alive. After one ring, he picked up. "Hello? Michael? They're ready, right? Where are you right now?" she barked into the phone, her tone brisk and impatient. Michael Garcia was her long-time friend from the military. Once serving beside her, he had come back to Sterling City as well. Though not a huge of fan of The Sentinels, he still kept up at friendship with Lin. And that friendship was rather helpful considering he ran the second most-profitable arms dealership in the city after the Septet.
Michael snorted into the phone. "Patient as always, amiright?" he asked sarcastically. Lin didn't crack a smile and rained silent. After waiting a second and receiving no response, he continued on, unfazed by her attitude. He was used to it after knowing her for all these years. "Yeah, so I got 'em in. They're great. I checked them out myself. I can give you a few. You just gotta come pick them up."
Lin nodded to herself, pleased. "Okay, so the usual spot?" she asked casually, lowering her voice just in case someone was listening to their conversation.
"Yup, the usual. I'll be there in five minutes. " At that Lin hung up without warning and took off at a fast jog, slipping the small phone into her pocket once more. She made her way out of the park, smirking at the dying plants as she went. How typical of Sterling City. Millions of dollars exchanging hands and no one could bother to water some grass. Lin was breathing hard, but she didn't care; it was a normal pace for her. She ran through the Silver Streets, making her way to their normal meeting place. She weaved in and out, avoiding the civilians passing by. At last she ducked into the small, narrow alleyway at the very south of town. It was so close to Skid Row that it might have well been considered part of it. The area was located behind a couple of slightly sketchy apartments, but she didn't care. If anyone tried to attack they'd get what they deserved. Lin fingered the pistol tucked at her belt.
A figure stood leaning against a wall. He held two large carrying cases, both black with a hard, shiny outer shell. Lin strode over and greeted Michael, who was frowning. it was rather unusual for him, as he typically sported a cocky grin. He had short brown hair, cropped the army style, and a bulky, muscular build. "Hey. So, you hear about what happened? The big news?" he asked.
Lin looked up at him from her rather short height, confused. "What are you talking about?' she asked, taking the two cases from him and laying them on the ground. She flipped them open and ran her hands along the two high-quality sniper rifles. They were brown, with long barrels and well-made handgaurds. She picked one up and aimed with it, glancing through the scope. It was perfect. Crystal clear.
Michael shrugged and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. He began to smoke, the cloud of nicotine-infused air floating away from him as he puffed. "Bomb went off at The Tavern. Killed three customers and injured a few others, but no one else. It was a big deal. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, huh?" he asked casually, a hint of an accusation in his voice. He had never approved of the Sentinels' methods.
Lin's head whipped up. She snapped the two carriers shut and stood in one swift move. "What the hell are you telling me?" she asked fiercely. She had known that they had been planning on making a move, using a bomb. But three dead civilians? This was not acceptable. Not at all. "What do you know about it?"
He pulled out his state of the art tablet, like a small computer, and swiped for a second before turning to show a news article. There was a large picture of the wreckage. The headline read:Terrorist attack responsible for three dead. Lin let out a groan of frustration. She grabbed the phone and began to read all about how Sterling City hated the Sentinels and the police were after them, not to mention the Septet, which was a thousand times worse. When she was done her face had settled into a cold mask. She handed it back to him. "This is bad, this is really bad. I've got to go, okay?" she said, not allowing any room for him to protest.
"No 'thanks' or anything?" Michael chuckled. She glared at him and he held up his hands in surrender. "Alright then. See ya. Hope you work this whole 'the whole city hates you' business out alright," he commented before turning to swagger out the other end of the alley. She shrugged.
"Thanks," she muttered before sprinting out the other way. Her feet pounding against the ground, she gritted her teeth. How could they have screwed up so bad? Who had been in charge of this? She picked up the pace as she made her way to their home base of sorts, not bothering to dodge people this time, but shoulder checking them instead. There was no time for formalities now. She paused outside of apartment, with the brass numbers reading 37. She kicked it impatiently, not even bothering to set down the sniper rifles to knock. "Lemme in!" she barked roughly, wasting no time on polite sayings.
When the door opened she stormed in. "Alright, who botched the bomb job? We talked about this!" she snapped coldly as she ran in, her accusatory glare settling on all those there already. "Do you have any idea how much goddamn trouble you've gotten us in?" She set down the weapons with a gang and put her hands on her hips. Despite her small stature, her cool, frosty anger made her all the more intimidating.
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