Opening Thread - Sandelli's Nightclub - Day 1 - O

[Anika Nyame]

Sandelli's, nestled in the heart of Barcelona's slums, was more than just a hub for black market activities; it was a pulsating underworld of sin and secrecy. The hub pulsating with the clandestine rhythm of black market dealings, drug transactions, and criminal debauchery, stood as a monument to the shadows thriving beneath the surface of Barcelona's underworld. Of course, the owner meticulously wove a web of discretion around the illegal affairs within the club to enforce that such activities remained discrete. It didn’t matter such things were rumored-in some cases the seedy nature of the clubs’ reputation tickled the curiosity of those who could potentially become new and regular patrons and acted as a tantalizing allure.

Yet, above the above the club's nefarious undertones, the place was also a dark and successful establishment, sometimes with celebrity DJs bold enough to get on their stage. It was a thriving venue. They ensured that their music, despite being located in the slum’s of Barcelona, was top notch-bought with dirty or even bloody money. The dance floors, crammed with bodies in rhythmic unison, became a theater of liberation, where daring couples pushed the boundaries beyond innocent grinding, embracing the shadows that concealed their fervent, intimate escapades. In this shadowy sanctuary, the flickering lights cast fleeting glimpses on the faces of those who embraced the clandestine allure, their movements synchronized to the hypnotic beat that seemed to emanate from the very soul of the underworld. Each twirl, dip, and entwining of limbs became a silent defiance against the constraints of the mundane.
Crafted from dark, polished mahogany, the bar stretched across the venue like a regal altar, its surface adorned with a black granite that sparkled in the red-lit club. An assortment of crystal-clear decanters and gleaming glassware complimented the rare spirits and exotic liqueurs that lined the top shelf, glistening like a treasure trove waiting to be explored. Shelves laden with an extensive collection of bitters, syrups, and botanicals framed the bartenders like alchemists in pursuit of the perfect potion. A plethora of libations were available, some with ingredients that were known and loved…others more exclusive to particular crowds and people.

Draped in a dark red and black color scheme with deep red laser lights, fog, and flashing strobe lights that came in and out, Sandelli's was often at capacity. On this particular evening, the spotlight was on a particular celebrity DJ: Live Mouse. 🐭…not to be confused with Dead Mouse…whose reputation, like his name, had expired a long time ago. Live Mouse brought an excited energy to the establishment, marking the night with the promise of an unforgettable sonic experience.  

[GhostsNeverDie]

Shingen Maeda

The place was alive, like an ocean, incessant in motion. There was a heartbeat that reverberated across the room represented by an infectious bassline you could feel in your very chest. The barely lit room received flashes of light here and there, revealing the venue at it’s highest capacity. It was easier to dance across the room than to try and make your way through. Although, already embedded along the seating lining the walls was Shingen. He looked to be enjoying a drink whilst drinking in the sights. He had his eye on a particular dancer that had made her way onto the bar. The way she threw her body around wasn’t dramatic or reserved but rather spoke of a passion she had for the art. Or perhaps she was just that well trained.

As she would spin and pop with the music, Shingen didn’t seem to take his eyes off her at all, fixated on that singular spot. A closer look, however, would reveal a group of men on the far side of the room, showered by women. Powders and pills had spilled onto the seats themselves as the dancers did their best to win their subjects’ adoration. The girl on the bar had no idea of her role, serving as Shingen’s focal decoy although Shingen wouldn’t deny her mastery. Peering on through, he thought he could make out the concentrated black outlines of stashed firearms in the men’s jackets but was too far to be sure.

The long haired agent had gotten a lead concerning the location for the very lucrative sale of the highly regulated mana stones. Whether the dealer or buyers were present, he wasn’t sure but the particular area, more specifically, the club, was known to be a major corridor for the black market and every service that it offered. After half an hour of being there, Shingen had turned down more narcotics than he knew existed and seen more action than New Years in New Orleans. He didn’t have to look far to find the ones who were there for business. While some liked to shop and party just the same, the bigger players had darker, and often more private, ideas of celebration.

Their serious demeanors scared off anyone that would come by on accident. The men from before where some of the muscle of the city while the most important figures sat at the center of their respective entourages, often with a disinterested look on their faces. Mana stones weren’t some street corner high, they had more in common with warheads or the keys to their destructive power than some fading substance. If allowed to continue in dissemination, the chaos that would ensue from warring parties would raise collateral past forgivable heights. As newly appointed Captain of Internal Affairs, Shingen was mostly chained to a desk but with a threat of this magnitude, he had been called in to handle the matter personally.

Shingen sipped on his iced drink, the very local Orujo that had become to grow on him the more he tasted it. The smirk on his face and his wide lean back into the seat he was in spoke of his amusement with the time he was there but there was no doubt in Shingen’s mind: He despised the dangerous mix of debauchery and crime.


Location: Edge of dance floor seating.
Outfit: See Image Left

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[LucaRominov]

"Mad Dog" Madock

There was immense profit in just about anything these days. For example, people can amass the pinnacle of wealth by acquiring some recognized medical diploma after years of near crippling intellectual tribulation while others earn just as much posting feet pics online. This entrepreneurial era was immensely inclusive to all things. Anything was marketable, which opened so many new avenues for crime to become even more profitable. It wasn’t sacred knowledge either. Practically everyone knew that the morally ambiguous or even blatantly wrong had been generously funded for as long as legal business has existed. This dirty fortune was, however, made infinitely more possible with the ever evolving products and demands magical culture seared into history. That was Mandello Sandelli’s current prospect, preying on the social tensions between the mortal and arcane to set foot in a market that was more fruitful than drugs and firearms these days.

The trade off for this vast corrupt market Mr. Sandelli entered, much like any criminal pursuit, was at the high risk of losing his freedom if he were to get caught. Beyond mortal federal institutions on his case, he now had arcane agencies that could investigate him if he wasn’t careful. But he was… Mr. Sandelli was always able to twist any claims against him into something that made him appear like a victim instead, a master of rhetoric that could flip suspicion on its head. He had employed dirty law enforcement into his circle…and now was beginning to inherit allies on both sides of the front against magic-some even in the BoM. And so he and his men were confident that the money would just keep coming, and where else would they celebrate than the greatest club in Barcelona: Sandelli’s.

While Sandelli preferred to keep his enjoyments private behind closed, his men nearly always had at least one VIP booth where the liquor kept flowing and the drugs kept popping. There was a broad demographic between the seven of them, some skinny and ratty while others were clearly on some kind of strength supplement. They all, however, were faded out of their minds and balling out in the wake of their late successes. “And then I told her, ‘Rabecca, I barely know ‘er hahahahaha,” The men roared harmoniously in a cacophonous fit of wild laughter…just as heavy footsteps approached their little party. Escorted by one of the club guards was none other than Erik Madock-or mad dog Madock. The guy was the son of the crime lord in Barcelona that dominated the firearm trade of the local underworld. Of course, Madock was no stranger-he actually was married to big man Sandelli’s daughter!

“Heeeeyyy, Madock what are you doin’ here? Boss’s daughter put your a** in the dog house or somethin’?” came the harmless intoxicated callout from one of Sandelli’s men. The large imposing man with slash scars on his face, didn’t even flinch. The man had an emotional spectrum of a rock, which made him incredibly intimidating. “Eh?... What you say?” came the low, dangerous growl from Madock before someone waved at him harmlessly, “Oh don’t be like that, get ovah here man. You are always welcome! We got mooooore than enough to spare, right boys!?” said another as he raised a bottle of henny. The men cheered and each grabbed whatever poison they were drinking by the neck and drank. Meanwhile the guard left Madock’s side as he walked up and sat in the booth.

“So what do we owe the pleasure, Mad dog?” the man that was sitting next to the spot Madock reclined into inquired drunkenly as he patted Madock on the shoulder. The large flat faced man simply turned his head to face him…unimpressed. “ha…haha…he…Sorry.” the man’s hand retreated. After that, the mad dog looked back at everyone at the table. “I want in…I want to meet your supplier.”  

[Anika Nyame]

tab ❧ I'm the violence in the pouring rain.




In the subdued ambiance of the club, the dim lights cast a seductive glow on the bar, and the captivating allure of the dancer atop it. The rhythmic play of red lights painted her pale skin and wild curls, turning her raven locks into glossy strands that shimmered against the bright lasers slicing through the air.
Aella's dancing was more than a display of skill; it was an impassioned narrative, each twist and turn of her body telling a story that resonated through the crowded space. The genuine connection she maintained with the rhythm and melody was palpable, yet tonight, there was an added intensity to her movements, setting her apart from the usual club dancers.

As she swayed with an unusual fervor, it became evident that her desire for a cash-paying job was interwoven with a deeper yearning – a yearning to lose herself in the pulsating music and the energy of the crowd. Amidst the thumping EDM beats, Aella's emotions found an outlet through her movements. Having encountered Zen earlier that day, she sought solace in the visceral experience of rhythm and motion and wholeheartedly dove into her desire to escape the complexities of her reality.

All her struggles, unspoken and difficult to articulate, flowed seamlessly into her dance. The crowd, in turn, seemed captivated not just by the performance but by the raw, unfiltered emotion coursing through the dancer's body. Tonight, her angst became a tangible force, twisting through the rhythm of the music and settling into the collective consciousness of those who watched, each beat echoing the unspoken emotions that reverberated within the club.

Due to how immersed she was in herself, Aella had no reason to notice one of the men watching her was her former roommate of a year and a half ago. Never in her life would she dream about running into anyone from Rengoku here in Barecelona. Zen was already a shock as she had thought him to be dead, so Shingen's presence went wholly unregistered. Perhaps if she had noticed, it would save them both from embarrassment for she dropped to her knees in front of him, thighs fully split as her hand followed her body down. Luckily for him, she didn't make eye contact, so he could easily go on with his bad self and pretend she didn't just gyrate in his face for a hot second before standing back up and continuing to dance on the bar.



Where: Sandelli's Night Club
With: Shingen (surprise!)
Doing: dancing
Wearing:Tight black body suit and black stripper heels, smokey eye make up


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Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place,
so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.
And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.

 

[The Panda Samurai]

『 It's in the air and it's all around 』xxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx Location: Sandelli's Night Club
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Company: No one
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Internally: I've gone insane.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wearing: All black suit

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xxx W e s l e y xxx

"Why exactly am I on VIP duty tonight?" Wesley asked in a muffled, almost metallic voice as his words rang out through an overly complicated gas-mask that was latched onto the lower half of his face. The man leaning forward towards a mirror as he adjusted his tie a few times. Chaotic, kaleidoscope eyes stared back at him as he worked on adjusting his tie. A discordant symphony of colors that winked in and out of existence within those irises, giving him a rather captivating gaze. Unfortunately for him, it was just a reminder of the chaos within and the very reason he had fallen so far. A truly destructive explosion of pure wild magic that tore across the landscape back and brought Tiamat's Clan to its knees. How he had survived that incident was nothing but a miracle. However, it only meant he was a wanted man now. The worst king in Tiamat Clan's history, a ticking time bomb of man to BoM, and a weapon to some mysterious figures out there. He had bitched and moaned about it more than necessary by this point though, and none of that put food on the table. "Hey, did you hear me?"

"No. What are you crying about?" A larger man replied. The brute was currently scanning several screens. Entrances to the facility, doors leading to backrooms, and so much more. He wasn't the only one there making sure everything was clear, but he was the only one Wesley wanted to talk to.

"Why am I watching the VIP section tonight? Hate wearing suits." Wesley reiterated.



Wesley just narrowed his eyes for a moment as he stared off. It was clear that Sandelli didn't want him actually working tonight if he had someone else set at the station already. No, the owner must have been planning to do business and needed Wesley free just in case. Good. Less work, easy pay, and he could get rid of his current batch of mana stones. Out of everyone here, he knew just how dangerous those things were. However, those volatile bombs of arcane energy were Wesley's best source of income and his best chance at a new life. Sandelli had everything that Wesley needed; Connections to move each stone without drawing too much attention, protection from any gangs that became too interested about the creator, and sources to get Wesley new credentials to start over. It was the only way! At least, that was what Wesley told himself in the end.

"Let Marco know I'm heading over now." Wesley sighed out as he adjusted his mask one last time to make sure it was totally secure before heading for the door.

"Yep. I- Look at this b***h on the-"

Wesley slammed the door behind him as he left the room and started to head down the hallway. The music could be heard pounding through the walls as he headed for the next door that would lead him out into the club.

It didn't matter how many times he tried to get over it. Wesley hated club music. The man blamed it largely on the fact that his draconic senses made him far more sensitive to sounds, but really he just couldn't stand the selection. Still, he came out covering up his left ear at first as if that would do anything to help him. The finely dressed security guard closed the door behind him with his right hand and then taking a long look over the club with those rainbow-colored eyes of his. New artist, same bullshit, and same shitty dancing across the board. An unseen scowl crossed the dragon's face beneath his metal mask. Still, his disdain could be made out from the way his brows furrowed together, judging everyone before him. So many idiots out there in the crowd just waiting to screw up and get thrown out. Luckily, they weren't Wesley's damn problem tonight! So, he might as well just enjoy watching the show as he headed across the bar and to his station.

Wesley straightened himself up as he pulled his left hand away from his ear and started the journey through the bar. He definitely didn't make it across without turning some heads given his eyes and the gear locked around his face. A few people who hadn't been here before just outright staring at him and making comments. Most of their words went ignored unless it was one in particular. Mutant. In reality, that's exactly what Wesley passed himself off as now to avoid suspicion about his own ridiculous strength when compared to his size and the strange appearance he had. Still, it ******** hurt so much to hear that word. He was a proud dragon and couldn't even say a damn thing about it. So, Wesley just had a very "grumpy" look on his face as walked along. The dragon now looking for anything to distract himself at the moment... Which he would soon regret when he laid eyes on *her*.

The entire club just disappeared in a swirl of muddled colors. The overbearing music being drowned out by the beating of his own heart. Wesley found himself staring at a ghost from his past right then. A being that knew him as Mephitis before he had to tear almost his entire past apart in order to live free. She was only a dozen feet away from the man at this point, and she was dancing up on a bar top in a way only she knew how. "Aella." No one would be able to hear his words over the music. However, everyone could most certainly watch as the security guard's face went pale white and the power in his forward step just seemed to vanish. Soon, his hands started to tremble and his breathing started to become rapid. Death itself might as well have been standing there up on the bar right then.

How? How in the hell was she standing there? No, it couldn't be here, right? It was just another episode! This was just like the last time. He had somehow summoned an illusion without knowing it. That, or it was a damn curse placed upon him by Tiamat clan. It just had to be! Still, he couldn't ignore just how real that illusion was. How it moved was beyond anything he had crafted before and it rocked him to his core. Air... He needed air! Suddenly, he went from this panicked gasping to feeling like he couldn't breath at all. The man stumbling backwards as his focus became the door he had just come from. Unfortunately, this led him to bumping into some poor, drunken bystander on the way.

"Whoda-"

Before another word came out of the man's mouth, the guy was launched into the air. Wesley hadn't meant to push him so damn hard but it felt like the poor dragon was fighting for his life. That meant he used every ounce of his draconic strength to rocket a poor human across the bar as if he was a football. The man crashing down beside one of the bartenders who immediately jumped to his aid. Meanwhile, Wesley was tearing away towards the door as if it was a matter of life or death. His feet slamming into the ground under him. People immediately darted out of his way lest they end up like the poor guy who just joined the space program for a split second.


P a r i a h xx K i n g


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『 With a taste of a poison paradise 』

 

[GhostsNeverDie]

Shingen Maeda

As time went on and the music surged and swelled, Shingen found himself pulled away from watching the riff raff. There was something familiar about the lithe dancer before him. He couldn’t remember who she struck him as in likeness although as he watched her more, it began to dawn on him. The curls of hair stood out to him, as they fell over her like waves striking rock. Then, Shingen stopped. As she turned and stepped right in front of him, Shingen could feel his heart stop. His glass froze in mid air, stuck somewhere between being put down and sipped from. There’s no way. He thought to himself as the woman dropped low, her eyes closed. Time seemed to slow for the moment as Shingen glimpsed over Aella in her entirety.

The man almost wanted to chuckle at the dumb idea that he was thinking of someone he knew from years ago, foolishly projecting her on a look-alike, thousands of miles away. He brought up his drink to his lips, hoping to cork his emotions that seemed to seep out at the worst time. Perhaps the Orujo was stronger than he had read. She looks just like her...In the midst of all that, a familiar face had appeared and taken his place among the patrons. It was someone that Shingen had been briefed about as having dark renown in the space. But Shingen would easily forget about him as he found himself looking over to the dancer, again and again.

Memories of his studious mission would straddle the edges of his psyche, serving as a potent distraction from his current assignment, a rookie move. Allowing himself to be entranced in a blended spell of nostalgic fantasy, Shingen might have also missed someone standing as still as a statue off to the side but like an itch, such a thing demanded attention to scratch it. The person was the only standing rock among a sea of dancers. What was more, he wore a protective mask. Shingen could only wonder why he would need such a thing and even questioned if the room was in danger of some respiratory weapon. But the man was quite frozen, very much like he had just been and what was more: he was looking in his direction.

Have I been made? Shingen suddenly wondered and slowly turned back to the dancers to drink from his glass again to hide his momentary glance. The figure still stood by in his peripheral vision, forcing Shingen to shift his sight closer to him to bring him more into focus. No one else seemed fixed on Shingen, nor truly on the masked man, prompting him to think he indeed had been recognized. A flood of possibilities came to mind from previous draconic contacts to the prying eyes at the airport. Even old reports of data breaches that had supposed to have been contained. Suddenly, the masked man took off in a panic, pushing anyone that got in his path. In a feat of herculean strength, a drunk that had been unfortunate enough to collide with him, was lobbed into the air.

This stranger was no ordinary man. The drunk had crashed in behind the bar, causing everyone around him to look in shock. Shingen stood from where he was and blended backwards into the crowd to try and watch the runner. Do I follow him? What if he’s a nobody? He’s clearly strong, so maybe he’s club muscle. But why is he running? He must have seen something he didn't like. Thoughts quickly shot across Shingen’s mind as he tried to obscure himself with the moving crowd. He watched the heavy hitters across the club to see their reaction before he did anything drastic. Although he wanted to buy himself time.

Shingen looked down to the masked runner now, focused on his steps. Each one crashed down like a stampeding animal running from a predator until a blue, threadlike strand appeared just in front of his next step, affixed in space and unmovable. He hoped to trip him, just in time to see what might come of it, the criminals’ reactions, the runner’s reaction, and the reaction from whatever had caused him flight, that it might reveal itself.


Location: In the midst of the crowd, just off the bar.
Outfit: See Image Left

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[LucaRominov]

"Mad Dog" Madock

Nights like these promised guests the liberation to not only divulge in varied degrees of intoxicating vices, but to also enjoy them without shame or scrutiny. With the heavy concussive bass intermingling intimately with the mechanical buzz of synth harmonies, people were elevated to freely bask in the sinful rhapsodies that Sandelli’s allowed. In other words, spirits were on a new high within the walls that groaned rhythmically with each heavy musical beat that crashed into them. Yet this contagious elation was snuffed out completely at one of the VIP tables the moment a man brought up business that he should have had no knowledge of. Sandelli’s new venture in the distribution of volatile mana crystals was kept on a need to know basis-only a special few of his club muscle was awarded the privilege of knowing just where the dirty money came from or what deliveries they were making if they were sent out on a ‘job’. What everyone universally knew, however, was that a breach in secrecy was not something easily forgiven; It was one of those subjects that caused people to go missing if their mouths were too loose.

The man who had invited the Mad Dog to sit with them echoed back with a near warning tone in response to the guests' impudent request, “...Supplier?...” Everyone else simply shut the **** up-not that they had any voice on the matter anyway-because they simply knew the gravity of the situation. Marco was the only one of them at the table that had that kind information, not because he managed the team on the floor most of the time, but because he was the middleman who was given the job to approach and advertise Sandelli’s product exclusively to the wicked and wealthy who would be insane enough to want to weaponize it. ”I don’t know what you're talking about…but If I did, I would warn you to keep you and your lady’s mouth shut about whatever you think you know. I’m saying that as a favor, Madock.” Marco’s eyes lost the brightness that came with their drunken celebrations, becoming sharper and dangerous…yet the Mad Dog was completely unphased.

”Then tell my dear ‘ol father-in-law to make some time for me…” The large brute with a visage decorated in two poorly recovered scars boldly retorted over the ravings around them. Marco’s brow twitched. The audacity of this guy to think he had the swing to give him orders just because he was laying pipe with the Sandelli girl. Sure, it was sanctioned by the Boss…but that was a matrimony to create an alliance more than anything else. The Mad Dog should know better than to try and get a cut on their hustle. A feral mut could easily be put down and replaced with a new pet if Sandelli wanted. Suddenly Marco got a message over his ear piece…a brief moment of distraction that gave him some time to cool down a little. ”...uh huh…copy that.” he managed without disclosing too much publicly. Sandelli had someone coming in, a potential buyer, so putting Wesley on VIP duty meant that he was close enough to get more of the goods if this patron wanted more than what the boss had in stock.

Once he answered the message, Marco reached out for his shot glass filled with expensive amber liquor and shot it down before slamming the glass onto the table with a satisfying and impactful clack. ”Listen, I don’t want you to catch a case that would have the Boss’ daughter heartbroken-so I’ll speak to Sandelli about it…but it sure as hell isn’t happening today-priorities. Seriously man, I’m just trying to chase a buzz…I don’t wanna hear about whatever you're thinking anymore…got it?” Marco said firmly, doing his best to not only reel in his frustration, but to also pull the subject back to something he could enjoy. Today, he technically wasn’t even supposed to manage the floor…but he always seemed to be the first person everyone went to if something went awry. He just wanted a break. The Mad Dog simply stared at him, creating an uneasy tension between him and Marco amidst the silence between them. Did the guy even blink!? Finally, a gruff low, “Fine…” was uttered from the man’s mouth.

”Good, now…why don’t we get back to what’s really important…like that fine piece of a-.... Before Marco could finish, there was a shrill scream of a drunken man that pierced through the thrumming melody of Live Mouse’s show. ”The Hell? You’re kidding me…” He managed with a mixture of annoyance and shock as everyone at the table turned to see a full grown man spiraling through the air like a football with the perfect amount of spin before he eventually hit the floor with a thud, nearly taking out one of their bartender’s with him. Marco’s eyes then locked on the culprit. What in the hell was happening today?! First, Mad Dog Madock walks in here like he owns the place and now Wesley is launching people and running like-...like he saw a ghost or something. ”You two,” Marco pointed at some of the big guys at the table, ”get in your suits ASAP and man the VIP spot now. The rest of you with me, The Boss needs Wesley here today so he has no excuse to go runnin’ on us-no matter what. And throw out the guy at the bar and play it like it was his fault!” immediately, Marco's words sobered up everyone at the VIP booth, possessed by a sudden sense of urgency as they executed their orders…leaving the Mad Dog by himself. The last Madock heard was Marco speaking over his ear piece asking what on earth had happened-to the security team most likely.

It wasn’t necessarily abnormal that Madock was so unaffected by the disturbance, he didn’t work at this club anyway…but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the fleeing man…Wesley was it? The guy didn’t look familiar at all…but what did stand out was his bizarre gas-mask with a complex design. It wasn’t really anything substantially indicative, but it brought back old memories of a ghost he just so happened to be hunting down. Slowly, Madock slipped his hand into the pocket of his coarse denim jeans and pulled out a touch screen phone…and texted a message. The screen couldn’t be captured on camera and had a thin veil of material over it that prevented passersby from reading the message…and soon enough the message was received.

”You got it boss, I’ll get a profile report on this guy,” came a high pitched, almost child-like voice, from a hidden earpiece in Madock’s right ear, “Hey uhh, also…I uhhh…well…I wanted to say this earlier, but you were kinda busy talking: Aella is here too-at the bar… I don’t know if that changes anything.”

What? the man thought, his eyes changing from a deep chocolate brown to a brighter amber color for a split second before he looked over to where she was reported. Of all places. Madock maintained a cold and flat stone-like expression…taking a deep breath to ground himself. She wasn’t in any danger at the moment, so as of now, she wasn’t compromising the mission. At least whatever came over her before she had passed out wasn’t severe-seeing as she could still dance in a way that had lusting people in a hypnotic trance. Still, the emotions that he had left with began to resurface…which was not ideal to say the least. He had to focus, he couldn’t threaten the mission now. Madock sent another message over the phone…saying that everything would continue as planned, for now…but only after a background check was done on this new guy…who just tripped over himself?

Was it him? The chances were still slim as of now, but there was no room to eliminate the possibility. If it wasn’t, the man planned to slip into Sandelli’s office and would get the information from him directly if it came to that. The world could do with one less man who profited from the deaths of those who didn’t deserve it…  

[Anika Nyame]

tab ❧ I'm the violence in the pouring rain.


Clubs were hotbeds of chaos, places where people could orchestrate and execute plans under the cover of darkness, but Aella had no such things on her mind. Her reasons for being there aligned more with the masses rather than the special parties hiding in plain sight. It was simple, she needed cash. A year ago, everything had more or less ended for her. She'd found herself in the middle of no where with people who didn't speak her language or use technology. From there, she had worked her way to the main cities and found ways to cross through countries without having any proper form of identification.

Now she was in Barcelona, mainly because it was the only place she could think of where she would have a place to stay. There was no one in her life anymore and everyone who had been in her life was dead- well... that had been the case until she discovered Zen was not actually dead. Still, that didn't solve the currency problem or what she was going to have for dinner the next day. Hence, she was here for the money. Dancers were easily paid under the table, since the work they did was usually too short and too much of a pain in the a** to put on payroll. Thankfully, dance was also something she enjoyed. This was her only marketable skill, the only thing she really excelled at, and one of the few things she could really lose herself in.

Shingen for example, barely existed to her. He was just another moving body in her peripheral, a shadowed head of a person who would stay on the ground level while she stayed on the bar and bathed in the scarlet lights that orchestrated a mesmerizing dance on her porcelain complexion. Rebellious locks became a cascade of lustrous strands as she threw her head back, flipping the silky curls through the air. Each crimson pulse of the lasers cutting through the fog seemed to caress her skin and tangle with the wild curls, enhancing their glossiness and creating an ethereal, otherworldly glow around her. Her body shifted and rolled, pulsing with the music as if it was a part of her. Aella's chest popped with the drop, releasing an explosion of energy that rippled down into her hips. Just as she was beginning to throw herself into a turn, a man flew by, crashing down into the bar near her. A yelp popped from her lips, startled by the flying human and she stepped out of her turn, heel going backward into a glass that someone had errantly left on the countertop. Drinks weren't supposed to be set down on the dancer's strip, but the absent minded club go-er had done so as their jaw dropped open, also shocked at seeing someone fly through the club like a ragdoll in a crash test.

As a result, Aella's stiletto slipped as it jolted into the bucket. The glass slipped under her weight, sending her foot sliding and her body falling backward into the crowd. If Shingen hadn't moved too far from the bar, her a** was about to use his face as a landing pad, but if he had managed to squeeze through the crowd quickly, Aella was going to unkindly be reacquainted with gravity.


Where: Sandelli's Night Club
With: Shingen?
Doing: dancing
Wearing:Tight black body suit and black stripper heels, smokey eye make up


show spoilerhide spoiler






Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place,
so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.
And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.

 

[The Panda Samurai]

『 It's in the air and it's all around 』xxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx Location: Sandelli's Night Club
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Company: Everyone in this terrible club
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Internally: No, no, no!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wearing: All black suit

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xxx W e s l e y xxx

What had Mephitis done to deserve all this suffering other than merely existing upon this cruel world? What damnable being cursed him to be forever haunted by the ghosts of his past? Ghosts that seemed to refuse to stay dead so that they could pull him down deeper. Granted, he only had himself to blame. Deep down, he could never let those memories just simply be that. They controlled every little decision he made whether he was chasing after a warmth lost over a decade ago or running from a guilt that tore him down. It made the dragon a frantic mess and forced the world around him to blur. Colored lights and soft shadows blending into a mosaic, leaving only the exit door. He wouldn't reach it just yet. His tunnel vision costing him so dearly as a singular blue thread brought the dragon down.

Time seemed to slow for Mephitis in that very moment but there was nothing he could do with that. Shimmering rainbow eyes could only watch in horror as his salvation slipping away and the club floor came rushing towards him. Arms instinctively trying to throw themselves before him to soften the blow, but it didn't fix anything. It truly felt like he'd die of suffocation if he didn't reach that door. That fear and his desperation swirled into a chaotic mixture that swam through his veins and called upon impulses that he had suppressed long ago. Beautiful, glistening scales bristled up across his forearms and his cheeks. His hands became rougher as the nails started to become like talons. An involuntary partial transformation to ensure that he could protect himself whatever danger that laid out there but his transformation came with a terrible price now.

Mephitis' felt a terrible pulse within as a connection he wanted to stay dead suddenly awakened. It would go unnoticed by the clubgoers thanks to the multi-colored lights and lasers. They'd think it was just another effect in the show. A wave pulsed across the entire bar, forcing the weave to respond in that split second. A chromatic burst that was genuinely beautiful and soft upon the eyes. However, it was the worst thing that could ever happen for Mephitis. It meant the wild magic within him had found its way out. That chaotic power within immediately spinning up a spell that could have been anything. A flood? A fire? Would he explode once more and leave a crater around him?! He didn't want to hurt anyone but he could help them. All he could do was curl up into a ball after hitting the ground and prepared for the worse.

And then... Nothing? No, something had changed. The entire club would certainly notice it but Mephitis wouldn't until he heard.

"The ******** is this music?"
"Isn't this from some movie?"
"Live Mouse must have lost his mind."

A strange orchestral track was playing over the speakers now. As Mephitis started to get up from his feet, the music picked up as if preparing for some intense moment. The further he rose, the louder the music got until he was back onto his feet. The instruments blared out before brass bellowed as if there was danger around. Mephitis certainly felt like there was danger there and it wasn't getting any better now that he had ******** theme music to it! The dragon only became more desperate to get the hell out. He didn't want people figuring out the source to all of this and he still felt like he couldn't breath! As he turned and stormed towards the door again, the chase music kicked in rather comically. The dragon sped up just because of it, which only made the chase music louder! It was a ridiculous feedback loop of Mephitis scaring himself. The poor man eventually reaching the door and scrambling to tear it open.

If no one stopped him, he would fling himself into the staff hallway. Of course, there would be one last sound played to accompany this.


P a r i a h xx K i n g


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『 With a taste of a poison paradise 』

 

[GhostsNeverDie]

Shingen Maeda

As the situation devolved into instances of chaos, Shingen tried to take in the larger picture but just as he sought out his vantage point, a jarred motion caught the corner of his eye. The girl who had been dancing her heart out on the bar had recoiled from the crashing man next to her and caused a misstep. An perfectly improper shot glass had been placed on the bar top, catching her stiletto heel, sliding out under her and sending her down to him. Damn it, girl! Shingen thought and stepped over once just in time to sloppily catch her and avoid injury. His back leg bore most of their weight as they leaned back from the landing although she wasn’t all that heavy to begin with.

It was then that Shingen could see her up close now, face to face. He felt a chill as he realized it hadn’t all been a fantasy. Like a dream, Shingen had found himself with someone of another world. Surreal as nothing quite added up. “Cuidado, señorita” He said slyly, to keep himself from simply gawking over her. Then, as if realizing something, he looked up at a few men coming right for him from across the room where Maddock was sitting. Something suddenly burst across the room like an explosion yet so translucent as a gust of wind. A brilliant mixture of colors swept across the dance floor with the masked man at it’s epicenter.

Shingen’s eyes opened wide at the sight, looking the fallen man over as he began to rise to his feet. A strange spell erupted across the speakers of the room, a comical cinematic play that Shingen couldn’t help but admit was timely. Mephitis? Of course he had to have something to do with all this. The realization then hit him like a ton of bricks as he shot a look over at Aella. It all started to make sense now. She had disappeared just around the same time that Mephitis had and what was more, members related to the dragons had come to make it seem like nothing strange had happened at all. Then there was the incident between the dragon clans. That man was a walking nuke. Long time no see. What’ve you been up to? Making new friends? Shingen chided with that old serpentine smirk of his except this time his eyes weren’t on the same playful plane.

Picking Aella up and over his shoulder, blue strand like bindings appeared around her wrists and ankles. There was much he had to ask her now and was taking her in. He wasted no more time bounding after the panicked Mephitis. The muscled thugs that had crossed the floor stood to block him and cover Mephitis’ escape. Shingen, however pulled a pistol out from under his jacket and shot upwards at the ceiling causing people in the vicinity to flinch and duck before beginning to scatter. He couldn’t let Mephitis go now that he was in the open. Lives were now terribly at stake.


Location: Headed for the staff hallway, after Wesley
Outfit: See Image Left

show spoilerhide spoiler

 

[LucaRominov]

"Mad Dog" Madock

A-Alright boss, it looks like there are several documents that Identify him as Wesely Kent. The IP addresses producing these, however, show patterns of fabrication. Furthermore, while the institutions mentioned in his papers are real, it would seem that the actual database and servers of said organizations have no record of him in any of their systems-not even in their subsidiaries. There is also the fact that his arrival here at Sandelli’s heavily corresponds with the upward trend of capital flow into the…blah blah blah….yada yada yada…

Milo was a genius, capable of bypassing this generation's internet security as if it were only a waist high children’s gate; It was the primary reason why he was hired by the BOM so young. In fact, it took him only a matter of moments after Murdock’s request to uncover and produce the plethora of contextual and numerical data he regurgitated so manically. Perhaps it was a presumed sense of urgency that made him so feral in delivering the information he extracted from the 0’s and 1’s of the digital interfaces he explored. Yet, it didn’t take the small deerling’s complete case to spur the large roughian into action or to convince him that this man had the highest probability of being the late ruler of the Tiamat clan. No… The evidence the man needed came moments after the suspect hit the floor.

A long time ago, a peculiar gift of sight was granted to Murdock...allowing him the ability to peer into the arcane circuitry of those who could channel magic…and right now there was something volatile and potent roiling within Wesely’s body. While the ‘Mad Dog’ had the means to sever the connection and disrupt the manifestation of a spell to follow…this instance simply came on too quickly for him to react to; Even if he had caught it in time, it was difficult to say that he could have stopped it do to the pure density of the arcana. Thus, a vibrant chromatic wave of mana pulsed from Wesely, circumferentially spreading around him as if he were a stone dropped into an undisturbed body of water. Mana was typically unseen by those untrainted to see it, but if potent enough it could take shape and mass…and while it was confused as another effect of the laser light show of the club, Murdock’s vision made the wave glow brighter than any effect in the vicinity-one that had such a dazzling spectrum of color that he related only to one person.

The man had pushed himself off the booth’s velvet cushion, only to raise his arms instinctively as if it could actually defend him against the mysterious and threatening power the burst of magic could possibly have. Murdock paused, hazel eyes that didn’t belong to him scanning the interior of the club amidst the thin beams of red laser lights that harmlessly cut through the air or the main lights going in and out in a way that captured dancers and guests alike in frame like glimpses. Nothing seemed to be amiss just yet…what exactly was the spell he was casting? Quickly, the man’s arms were thrown down as he poised himself to throw himself into another forward dash…but suddenly the music changed over the speakers.

Murdock’s eyes flashed over to the speakers and saw the hint of the brilliantly chromatic arcana radiating from the technology. What was going on? Why would that be the spell he would cast? It would seem the Mad Dog wasn’t the only one caught in confusion. The people the club hosted seemed to echo a unanimous discomposure with the sudden onset of…a spy soundtrack? The ravings Live Mouse’s music inspired began to dull and deflate until people were simply asking each other what was going on or even vocalizing their agitation with the vibe killing tune by ‘booing’ the DJ. Live Mouse, obviously, was just as disoriented by the sudden shift in music. He checked his equipment frantically, wondering if somehow he was the root of this ramping orchestra. No…no not his phone…not his turntable…his connection hadn’t changed… What the actual **** was happening?! Was this really the work of the Fallen Dragon King? No…it had to be, but at the moment Murdock had no answer as to why the spell was generating such a bizarre scene that matched an anxious and heightening clip from a chase in a Bond movie. And so, through the initial shock, Murdock continued to move. Still, it gave Wesely the opportunity to lengthen the gap between them.

”...this Weseley Kent doesn’t have a credit card trail, and there aren’t many cameras beyond Sandelli’s for me to map out routine or habitual patterns of locations visited to help solidify his identity as-...Boss! Aella is getting kidnapped!”

Most of Milo’s continued presentation of data had fallen of deaf ears once Murdock was convinced that this man was indeed the supplier he was looking for…but once Aella was mentioned everything changed. Immediately the large man stopped amidst a crowd of people. Fortunately for him, they were no longer flailing to the heavy bass of the synth music…and now simply standing still wondering what was causing these technical issues with the DJ. That being said, it wasn’t difficult to find the spot he saw her dancing…except she wasn’t there at all. ”Where is she!?” he yelled out loud…some people around him jumping at the harsh sound of his intimidating voice. ”she’s slung over the shoulder of a man at your 10, heading towards…it looks like he’s heading towards Weseley!”

Murdock did his best to follow Milo’s directions…and eventually he found her, or rather he found a glowing mass of familiar energy radiating from a woman over a man’s shoulder. The man’s hazel eyes went wide with the sudden realization of what could be happening…and a memory of green eyes, golden stained hair, and scales flashed in his mind. He had only seen this transformation once, but he had suspicions that Mephitis’ arcana was the culprit of it somehow-which aligned with what was happening right now…however that memory was also paired with demonstration of earth manipulation that could level and kill everyone in this club! Suddenly the priorities changed…Aella was getting taken by someone potentially pursuing Wesely…and Aella was also a potential threat…So there was only one thing to do.


BANG

The loud pop of the firearm caused a newfound chaos to erupt in the club. At that moment the experience evolved into a life or death situation. Primal instincts compelled some people to drop to the floor and scream while others simply booked it towards the exit without a second thought to who they had to trample over to get there. One of the guards between Shingen and Wesely quickly reached into the back of his pants and pulled a pistol of his own. Marco, who was a few paces beyond the guards and closer on Weseley’s tail, also stopped at the familiar sound of gunfire and pulled a small firearm of his own…doing a full 180 to ensure he wasn’t going to get shot in the back. ”The **** is going on!?” he roared. Mudock…however…didn’t pause at all.

As the lights kept flickering in and out…casting a darkness solely illuminated by strings of vibrant red for a mere moment before everything was brought back into a full light…Murdock cocked back his fist…knuckles white with tension. At that moment it looked as if the large bruiser was going to punch a skinny drunk guy, who flinched as he saw the much larger man carry himself so violently…then suddenly he vanished…and reappeared in the shadows of the brief darkness caused by the flashing lights right next to Shingen just as his fist was swung to deliver a superhuman haymaker to the underside of his jaw. The punch would be followed by an uppercut…trying to catch his chin again once if it bounced back when his head snapped from reaching the maximal point of rotation. Oddly enough, the man’s eyes were not entirely trained on the perpetrator…but instead on Aella…watching her to ensure that his eyes caught any signs of mana that could level this entire place in hopes to cancel it.  

[Anika Nyame]

tab ❧ I'm the violence in the pouring rain.



Gravity's icy claws dug into Aella's stomach as she tumbled back from the bar, a strangled shriek ripping from her throat. The pounding synth, the pulsing bodies, the cacophony of the club - it all became a muted roar in her ears, drowned out by the terror of impending concrete impact. Nobody saw. Nobody heard. In this kaleidoscope of flashing lights and throbbing bass, she was just a speck lost in the human blizzard. Her face contorted, every muscle screaming in anticipation, but then, like a phantom summoned from the music, strong arms wrapped around her, the world spinning to a halt.

One eye squinted open, a crack in the shield of fear. Long lashes fluttered, revealing a shard of shattered crystal beneath. The words that reached her ears were muffled, barely audible over the club's deafening pulse, a jumble of Spanish she only half-understood. Then, focus sharpened, the blur solidifying into a face. Both eyes flew open, her jaw slack in surprise. Dark frames mirrored her own as her gaze collided with a pair of bristre orbs, framed by sleek black locks that had grown longer since their last encounter.

"Shingen?!" The name erupted from her plush lips. A year, that's how long it had been since she last saw him, her erstwhile roommate, her link to Rengoku. What was he doing here, in Barcelona, of all places? This wasn't his scene, not unless he'd sprouted some secret club-kid persona she didn't know about. But before she could form another question, before her legs found their footing and relieved him of the burden of her dead weight, a pulse ripped through the air.

A tangible wave washed over them, a prickling current that spread like wildfire, igniting dormant embers within. It wasn't pain, not exactly, but an alien sensation, a ghost of a memory from a moment lost to time. The touch of Tiamat, the taste of Mephitis' power echoed in her veins.

Shimmering, crystalline scales erupted from the corner of her eye socket, blooming like icy flowers against the dusty canvas of her makeup. They weren't the jagged, brutal plates of a warrior, but delicate shards of beauty, each catching the dim strobe lights in a kaleidoscope of diamons and sapphires. Irises elongated into dangerous slits and beneath her clothes, where Shingen's eyes couldn't reach, similar scales blossomed along her spine, hidden gems nestled against the soft curves of her back. But it was her hands that drew her attention. The ombre tips, once painted in matte, nude shades, elongated, sharpening into wicked stilettos that gleamed with an inner fire, acrylics popping off in the transition. What replaced her fake nails were translucent and almost ethereal talons, slivers of moonlight trapped in crystal with glowing toxins she didn't understand swirling toward the tips.

A gasp escaped her lips. This sudden metamorphosis, this echo of forgotten magic, left her reeling. Before she could even begin to process the whirlwind of change, Shingen conjured ropes of swirling light that nicely complemented her hues of change, binding her wrists with practiced ease. The ********?! She froze, a captive butterfly caught in a shimmering net. Then the world tilted. With a grunt, she suddenly found herself unceremoniously slung over his shoulder, her vision now fixated on the bustling floor below. "The hell are you doing?!" she shrieked, her voice raw with shock and indignation. "Shingen!!!"

Determined not to be carried away without a fight, she transformed into a squirming force, reminiscent of a lively fish on a defiant hook. Every twist and turn amplified the challenge, as she made it as arduous as possible for him to maintain his grip on her lithe form. Then a booming gunshot ripped through the room, a thunderclap in the already tense atmosphere. It was the perfect diversion, the sliver of chaos Aella needed. With a swift, predatory grace, her bound hands darted down, sinking into the forbidden territory of his back waistband. "Put me..." Unaware of the giant ham hand coming for his face, Aella's stiletto talons dug into the soft cotton of his underwear. (inadvertently puncturing holes in it) and pulled, hiking the cotton fabric as far up his a** as humanly possible. "DOWN!"


Where: Sandelli's Night Club
With: Shingen?
Doing: dancing
Wearing:Tight black body suit and black stripper heels, smokey eye make up


show spoilerhide spoiler






Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place,
so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.
And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.

 

[The Panda Samurai]

『 It's in the air and it's all around 』xxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx Location: Sandelli's Night Club
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Company: Everyone in this terrible club
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Internally: What the hell is going on?!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wearing: All black suit

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xxx W e s l e y xxx

Why couldn't stay calm for just two seconds to get his badge out and unlock this damn door!? Even if Wesley was only a single action away from freedom, it didn't calm his tumultuous emotions. The distraught dragon still felt like death was standing behind him, raising its sharpened scythe higher with every second that passed. Guilt growing heavier with every single second which made his fingers tremble and twitch. He only managed to grasp the badge twice before it slipped away. Both attempts just furthering his descent into an overwhelming storm that threatened to consume him and everything else in this club. Not only that, but he had to fight back against this incessant instinctual need to transform when he felt threatened. He'd only use his "half-dragon" form but even that was dangerous now! Unfortunately, he was given a reason to not hold it back.

BANG

Chromatic irises flicked from rounded pupils to draconic slits in that millisecond. Brilliant scales burst forth across his arms, legs, and back. His hands now unmistakable for the terrible claws that they were. Even his long, sweeping horns almost came ripping up through his dark black locks but Wesley forced his transformation to stop just then. Any further and he really would have been in trouble of being a constant source of wild magic spells. Still, that didn't stop another one from slipping out just then. Once again, a beautiful pulse of mana ripped through the club. The wave harmlessly sweeping through everyone, except for one particular girl. Meanwhile, the spell centered its just above Wesley head and...

A gigantic pile of gems and gold appeared floating in the air above the dragon. A hoard that shimmered with rubies, emeralds, amethyst, and so much more! The sheer size of it enough to bury Wesley from head to toe and then some. It would have made someone rich beyond their wildest dreams... If it wasn't for the fact it was all fake. In that moment, Wesley's instincts kicked in for him. He wasn't sure where the gunman was exactly but he wasn't safe at this location right now. It would take too long for him to open the door in his current state. Meanwhile, whatever was above his head would lock him down for even longer. So, it made the split second decision to bolt for the nearest cover. His body lunging away from the door and towards the nearest bar. Wesley's power and agility put on display showing that he certainly wasn't human. He turned into a blur as he turned and kicked himself off the wall. The man just narrowly avoiding the mountain of gold that crashed down where he had been.

Wesley would come crashing down behind one of the many bars. The heels of his shoes crashing against the floor once again as he took a wide stance to steady himself. The dragon keeping himself low as he peeked over the bar top to figure out what the hell was going on. Who would fire off a gun in Sandelli's of all places? Had he exposed himself? Was it some rival? All Wesley could do was assess the situation so he didn't make a deadly mistake.



P a r i a h xx K i n g


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『 With a taste of a poison paradise 』

 

[GhostsNeverDie]

Shingen Maeda

Just before he converged on the thugs ahead, he noticed Mephitis diving in behind the bar and he could feel Aella writhe around. As he tried to track a way around to where Mephitis had gone off to, he suddenly felt cold, hard claws rip his pants upwards by the belt line. “HEY!” was all Shingen could shout as he was caught off guard by the violent wedgie. Before he could say another word, a blinding strike came from the side, causing him to nearly topple over, dropping Aella in the process. As the subsequent uppercut came up to his face, Shingen whipped his gun hand downward just in time to block the punch at the inside of the elbow. He then pulled Maddock closer with the hook he had made so that they were face to face. And through all this, the music still managed to pump out from the speakers.

Something was shattered and crumbling off Shingen’s face, right at the jaw where he had been struck. As semi-translucent pieces of what looked like glass fell from his face, it was almost as if he had an extension to his grin very much like a clown’s makeup. ”You’re not you’re everyday thug are you?” Shingen said with a gleam in his eye. He glanced over to the creature that was Aella, still bound but now on the floor. What the hell? He thought before looking up at the Mad Dog. His eyes flittered from the men behind him to the exits and to the people rushing out of there. There couldn’t be much time before the police arrived and he couldn’t quite get into a firefight with all the people still around.I have to wrap this up quickly.

Slowly holding up his hands in surrender, Shingen let his pistol hang from his trigger finger to show he had been caught. At the same time, the layer of magic that had been on his face had returned. The man had hit him like a semi and he didn’t see him come up at all which sort of made him nervous that he could really get in his way. ”Look, you got me.” He said calmly, trying to project a sincerity although the raised corner of his mouth spoke more of a mockery than a true statement. Slowly winding back his gun hand, he made it as if he was going to toss his pistol over to the other guys behind Maddock. When he did toss it, he hoped their eyes were on it, a set of blue barrier boxes forming at Maddock’s feet to encase them and hold him affixed to space.

Side stepping Maddock, he burst forward at the other men who had likely found their own firearms at this point. He tried to bury his hand up and into the first guy’s stomach to knock him out before turning with a flash to elbow the other the same way, while simultaneously pressing a button on his watch. He held back enough not to send them into the emergency room but just enough to take their air. He’d like to keep the bloodletting to a minimum if that was possible. Shingen then looked up at Aella and threw out his hand at her so that a blue box appeared behind her and pushed her all the way over to him where he could take her.


Location: Dance floor
Outfit: See Image Left

show spoilerhide spoiler

 

[LucaRominov]

"Mad Dog" Madock

The heavy, yet dull sound of Zenith’s fist crashing into this mysterious abductor’s jaw was deceptively successful; It even had the ex-mercenary convinced that the powerful blow assured him the victory as man’s head snapped out to the side before rebounding back with what he misunderstood as dazed elasticity. He would quickly learn, however, that this man was far more problematic than he presumed once his uppercut was caught in the gap between the bony prominence of a descending elbow and his enemies torso. The lock caught Zen’s bicep into Shingen’s underarm as he was easily pulled in by that same hook, granting a closer look at who exactly he was confronting. Zen’s hazel eyes narrowed harshly into the BoM agent’s dark irises with dangerous lethality, catching the subtle way dense arcana fell from the face of his enemy in the form of small glittering glass-like shards. He knew who he was, he had met him over a year ago at Rengoku Academy…so why was he here, and why was he after Aella and Mephitis?

Each new discovery and unforeseen coincidence furthered his suspicions that this man was most likely affiliated with the Bureau-maybe they were finally making their move to capture and groom the others with whatever inhumane measures it took to get them to where The Watcher wanted them. ”You’re not you’re everyday thug are you?” came Shingen’s whispered deduction as the two of them were tangled closely for the smallest of moments. Zen’s eyes briefly flashed over to Aella then, who was momentarily freed from this man’s clutches. He had to make this quick-a similar conclusion that the barrier specialist had drawn as well.

Thus, when the undercover operative of the BoM made an attempt to feign surrender, the man wearing the face of Mad Dog Murdock didn’t skip a single beat in the heightening spy instrumental and wrapped a leg behind Shingen before thrusting into the man’s torso with the heel of his palm. Zenith had no time to play a part in misleading charades at this point. The maneuver stole the grounding from beneath the trained combatant, flipping his axis until he was parallel to the ground right in front of the Mad Dog. It was then that the large behemoth of a man cocked a heavy fist back before using his dense torso to twist in hopes to slam Shingen’s head between his knuckles white with tension and the cold and unforgiving floor of Sandelli’s nightclub.

But yet again, Zenith’s attempts were thwarted by a swift riposte as Shingen discarded the firearm to catch himself. That one hand clapped against the floor as he bowed his body and kicked up into the descending fist with something akin to a Au Batido seen in brazilian capoeira. The gun, blending into the temporary darkness between each moment strobe effect stole the light away, clacked onto the ground toward Aella until its momentum was halted with the soft impact of her torso.

Quickly, the barrier specialist pulled up the only support that anchored him to the floor causing him to drop lower toward the floor. With that falling momentum, Shingen caught himself a second time and swung his legs forward the way a breakdancer performs a windmill in hopes to trip up the brawler before him. But by the time his legs sweeped the floor in front of him, Zenith was gone. Raven black eyes of the BoM agent shot upward, finding that Zenith was airborne…with a sheathed katana held tightly in both his hands as he was in the midst of twisting horizontally mid air. To avoid the sweep kick, Zenith had summoned that bloodthirsty blade muzzled by the intricate eastern black scabbard and slammed it briefly into the floor to push himself off the ground just before he could be rendered unbalanced.

This weapon was designed to kill, but Zen couldn’t risk an opportunity to finally question someone who could potentially be affiliated with the Bureau-potentially know of the Chief Executives identities. Thus it remained pacified in its covering, but that did not mean it was not lethal. Zenith was a sword saint, and he was confident that the strikes from the dull sheath were far more dangerous than the rounded ridges of his knuckles. So, using the centripetal force from one 360 spin in the air, Zenith plunged the sheathed weapon down upon Shingen. Yet even that met a firm counter, this time in the form of a small floating arcane plate that sparked with splinters of mana that shot from the site of the impact like magical shrapnel. Fine jagged lines of fracture broke into the manifested defense, but it was still strong enough to put a stop to Zenith’s current attack.

Shingen realized he was wasting too much time here going blow for blow with this man, and so he used his low grounding to take off into a low sprint as he conjured a small dome that would capture both of Zenith’s feet and cuff him to the floor. Zenith noticed the small magical snare begin to form once his feet met the floor, but he could not flex his arcana fast enough to warp himself away before Shingen caught one of his feet in the trap. F***! The man hell bent on revenge couldn’t prevent the way his enemy slipped beside him and lunged towards Marco, throwing a fist into the thug that caved in the man’s abdomen. Marco didn’t want to take the shot with Murdock brawling with the perpetrator, but was surprised when Shingen quickly disengaged and came for him. Strings of saliva were ejected from the thug’s mouth as the air in his chest was stolen from him by a fist that sunk deeper into his stomach. Immediately after, Shingen passed the man up and summoned a barrier that would scoop Aella up towards him. This was bad. Zenith took his blade and slammed the pommel of it down hard upon the small magical restraint that prevented him from teleporting away. Again, slivers of mana sparked from the impact, yet it did not yield.

In a final attempt to slow Shingen by any means while he tried to free himself, Zenith yelled out, “Wesely do something and stop him from taking her!”. BANG, another concussive hit was dealt upon the arcane shackles that cemented Zenith in place. He needed to take this fight elsewhere and fast.