We Are One

[Guest]

The sun rose high over Century City and for once, the city was still with silence. There were no police sirens, no resound of gunfire. All was perfectly still. It seemed so odd for this City, this slowly decaying metropolis. Back then, no one would have ever thought it would become the root of all evil. Back then, the world didn’t know about us…

“Good morning Hatter!”

The cheery voice could belong to none other than the wonderful Cheshire Cat. She was an early riser that was for sure. Her short orange-y blond hair was a mess and her cat ears were twitching like crazy. Looking around, she wondered where that Hatter could have gone. At least, he was the Hatter when they had gone to bed last night. She wasn’t sure who would be in charge this morning. Sneaking around the house, the feline finally found her companion working on something in his work shop. Was it a new toy? Before she could even take a step in, he brought his hand up and she sighed heavily.

“Ugh. Fine. I’m going on a walk then.” He shooed her away without saying a word. Fiere hated it when he got entranced in his work. That meant no fun for her. Oh well. This would give her time to have fun without Hatter causing trouble. Besides, she didn’t need him anyway! Out of the house and onto the street, the neko female made her way towards the park. She always went there when Hatter didn’t want to play. As she walked, she noticed an older lady setting up for a birthday party of some sorts. Who had birthday parties outside anymore? Fiere made a note to stop by there later. Who didn’t love free cake? Well, if they would give her any that was.

The next step of her journey to the park was to pass by an apartment complex. A pretty girl with brunette hair was up and standing on the balcony, looking out into the nothingness. Fiere wished she had a balcony to stand on. That would have been hella cool. Her nose wrinkled in envy, but she pushed on towards her destination. She was now getting more into the city and it seemed more people were awake at what teenagers considered to be an ungodly hour. It was only 9 a.m. here in Century City, but it already seemed like it was noon or later.

An older gentleman stood on the street corner, waiting to cross the street. Fiere, being the kind of girl she was, decided to help him get across before smiling, waving and heading on with her walk. He had seemed nice enough, waving back to her as she left. Oh if only she knew. Violet hues spotted a man in a business suit on a phone while another pretty woman was drinking coffee near him. So many pretty people today! Fiere was jealous of the older female’s olive complexion. The neko hated being pale sometimes. A small sigh escaped her, but she just continued on like it was nothing.

Passing by a large company left her wondering who was working this early. With her enhanced eye sight, she could see someone standing in the window of a high up office. She put her hand up to shield the morning sun from her view, but Fiere couldn’t figure out if the figure was male or female. Shrugging, the girl continued along to the park. Once there, she would stay until 10 a.m. and then head back home to Hatter. What she wasn’t expecting was who was at their door.

A man in an odd looking outfit with bunny ears stood at their door. He seemed to be looking over the door itself as if he was trying to figure out how to knock on it. “Hey! Rabbit boy!” She called out to him, smiling as she approached. “Wanna come in?” He looked so much like the White Rabbit that Fiere knew this was no coincidence. Grinning her infamous grin, the blond haired girl moved in front of the rabbit and opened the door. “Hatter! The White Rabbit has decided to join us!” She called out, the grin still on her face. Even that mad man would be overly excited about this.

Fiere took the White Rabbit by his hand gently and led him inside. She shut the door behind her and started looking around for Hatter once more. Her ears twitched and moved at the slightest sounds, but she couldn't see the insane man. "Hatter? Are you playing hide and seek again? This is not cool! We have a guest!" Oh he loved playing games with her. This usually ended up with him scaring her and the two laughing about it later, but she wasn't sure how their guest would take to such acts. She was just hoping for the best she supposed.

-----NOTES YOU NEED TO READ-----
-Hatter / Cheshire and White Rabbit should be obvious
-The birthday party is a set up for Zia[Attie]
-The girl on the balcony is a set up for Delilah[Moira]
-The older gentlemen is a set up for Joe[Dax]
-The guy in the suit on the phone is a set up for Drew[Aesalon]
-The girl drinking coffee is a set up for Faye[Plaguewalker]
-The man in the office is a set up for Charlie[Squalleh]
IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS, LET ME KNOW!

[Gunneh]

"My eyes may not be the same as they used to be, dearest," sang a sing-song voice from somewhere in the shadows, "but I can see well enough to know when there is a guest within my own home. Alas, those dreadful rabbit ears atop that dreadful excuse of a mop that one would call hair... Ah, well, no matter the case of how our guest appears in both his physical state as well as his dreadfully cowardly demeanor, it is time for tea!"

The heels of his shoes clicked against marble floors that ran from wall to wall across the foyer as the source of the voice finally appeared from his hiding place. A tall young man in his late twenties eyed the pair carefully as he entered, though the ever-present grin never even began to fade. He took a low bow, removing the over-sized tophat in one fluid motion and held it to his side, his eyes still glued to the two animal-human hybrids that stood before him.

"Greeting, my ridiculously rabbit-like rabble-rouser! Regrettably, my repugnant reason for remanding your rightful place as my right-hand...rabbit, is of no recollection to either of you. Wrong-doers have remained reasonable in their own regard for a respectable amount of time, though a reproachful rioter has henceforth risen from the remains of these recently resigned raucous villains."

He stood slowly and replaced the hat upon his head, the smile growing into a chuckle, the chuckle then growing into full blown laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye tipped the hat back just a little further on his head.

"However happy I may seem, you must heed my heralding. Hear not my howling laughter and do not hold this hurtful news with a happy heart, for our cross is a heavy one to hold. However, our heartfelt endeavors for this heartless city hold much happiness for its hapless, hopeless denizens. How we shall triumph in the heat of this hell hole is beyond me at the moment, but I digress."

"You, good sir, may call me the Hatter, and we must bring the heroes of this fair city together to fight someone more powerful than all of us combined. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave so we may finish these introductions."

The Hatter closed his eyes tightly for a moment before the popped open again quickly, the young man's knees giving way before he could stop himself. He looked up at Fiere with a very confused look on his face.

"Did he just go on a long tangent of alliterations, Fiere," the young man asked. The girl nodded and chuckled playfully. "I was wondering why my head was pounding. Fiere, darling, would you run along and get me some asprin before Hatter decides to make another surprise appearance?"

The young woman nodded and ran off through the house, whistling a tune as she did. The young man stood slowly and walked over to the rabbit man, holding his hand out to shake.

"I, on the other hand, am Thomas Rynecraft, and it is wonderfully nice to meet you."

x

[Squall Reyes]

2 years ago: Century City, The Kutner Building. 2 A.M. Parking lot.

The parking lot was poorly lit though it was more intentional than bad wiring. In the center of the area were the busy shadow of 10 men, and they were transferring large unmarked boxes into the large black frames of the vans which had all faced the one way. One could have put them anyway they want but what was most important was that they had the best way out of this place as soon as they can. Once voice rose above all others as the figures continued to move and he was the only one not moving between the boxes and vans.

“Come on you bums! That dope should square out books for a year! I don’t want to see a single drop spilled. We got to get it over to the east side as…soon….”

The man stopped in his tracks for a moment, he had a large shiver crawl up his spine. What little light they had was now filled with the white clouds of human breathe. The room began to fill with the white mist of life as all the men stopped their work feeling similar sensations, They all looked down, they could hear something moving on the ground. It was a strange sound, as though some one was taking a long smooth shaving of ice from the top of a ice cube. Before they could make sense of the noise, they noticed the difficulty in moving their feet. Lifting feet and walking was now a chore, as they felt as though their feet and the floor were made of Velcro.

A large frame came into the light, however because of the confusion and fear gripping the others he was unnoticed. That is until he tapped a cane which he carried on the ground. Gasps of surprise rolled off the lips of each man in the middle of the parking lot, the noise had been quickly followed by the clicks of drawn and armed weapons. The new arrival raised his arms, face hidden in the shadow. “Please gentlemen, no need for alarm. Yet. I am simply here with a business proposition. Namely for you, mister Joey “the cutter” Cordova.”

“Yeah? W…what do you want?” Joey asked through chattering teeth. The temperature had dropped quickly, the summer night that was occurring outside felt a world away from the chill they all now felt.

“It’s simple, turn over the building and the drugs and your power over to me peacefully and I guarantee you a cut and a grand retirement from this life. Don’t and well none of you will survive this night.” Said the figure as he stepped out of the shadow, in his lips dangled a cigarette.

“Turn…What?!” The voice sounded completely flabbergasted and entirely insulted. The next order came quick and with little thought. “Boy’s give him our answer!” And with that the darkened basement came to life with little flashes of light as the weapons delivered most of their deadly payload right on target.

Except that target still stood. Even after the last man had emptied his last chambered round; the figure simply stood there. It finally let out a sigh, though it was difficult to tell if it was because of annoyance or pleasure or both. It's hand rose, and for a moment held in place in the air. Until finally he brought it down, and a figure was seemingly born straight out of the darkness in front of the men. The fire fight, if one can call a massacre such, did not last long. And once done, the figure which snuffed the life out of those men returned to its master. Its figure much more noticeably feminine. Another came behind them both, white gloves now covering his hands.

The large figure slowly brought a lighter to his cigarette and then gave an approving nod to both of his trusted employees. He looked over the scene ones more and with a sigh said, “Ok….let’s get to work.”


Charlie opened his eyes in his office, he smiled as his most recent memory. What a fine place he can come to possess from such a simple plan. Dealing with such simple humans had almost sucked the joy out of his work. There was little challenge in them, they were easily corruptible, disposable, and many were willfully ignorant. "A waste of life," thought Charlie thought as he stood up from his seat, he walked to the windows and looked over the vast city. HIS city. Well what would soon be his city. Many of the organized crime of the city had either taken his offer, offered their serviced, or had met their own sticky end as Joey did those two years ago. No he wasn't concerned with any rival mob bosses, his fears were more towards a rather unique set of people.

Down there, there were heroes. Figures worth his time, worth his power, worth his….concern. He feared not just the heroes themselves, but the idea of heroes. True heroes gave the normal slime of this city a feeling of safety, could sometimes inspire bravery, and always inspire people to hope. Bad for business. Speaking of which, Charlie looked down at his watch. He had a few hours before his two best would return with any news on the heroes of this city or of any useful information in general. Charlie moved back to his chair and sat down with a deep sigh. Pieces were always moving, and he could not shake the feeling, that they were almost set.

[MoiraofWords]

Look at that city, full of ordinary people. There were none, none meant for Delilah. There were none, that could withstand her company for more than a few hours. There were none. But she still liked those ordinary people, even if they couldn't like her. They had laughter, tears, a plethora of emotions that Delilah had cut herself off from. She could not afford to be overwhelmed. All that love, anger, fear, elation, misery-- it flowed in waves, working towards an ever mounting attack on her control. Through easy displacement, it could all flow away but control was not something that could be regained as easily once it is lost.

The cool wind blew through her flowing hair. Her agenda for the day was uncertain. Someone had made an offer, in cash, for her to spy on someone. Now most of the cash was declined. Except 10%. It is hard to look this good, all the time, and something has to put the bread on the table to maintain the subtle illusions. The reason was uncertain though, and that made Delilah uncertain as well. She didn't want to do anything outright nefarious. Now illicit deeds for a good cause was acceptable: that was the definition of a vigilante. But illicit deeds for evil? That would cause Delilah to turn over in her bed at least once the next night! And she had enough trouble sleeping as it is.

So the spring morning loomed over Delilah, and she had a choice to make. Investigate it further, or return the money. With a sigh of regret, she knew she would reject it. It went against her principles, doing an unknown act with unknown consequences. A mental check had already marked that she would make contact and return the money later.

So she made her way out of the apartment, locking up, and smoothly drawing down to the street. Was she ever worried? No. Those that interfered would often lose their sense of purpose for the meeting. Let's say someone was "really" interested in her. Once they brought up their courage, and shook hands, it was all lost. They couldn't help but feel slightly bewildered-- why had they brought it up at all? But Delilah was ever gracious, and it helped to complete the cycle. At any rate, it fed her most elusive emotion, love. So the circle continued onwards.

So Delilah was looking fashionable as always, making her way through the streets. It was a wonderful morning, and the springtime weather brought emotions to highs. Joy was almost tangible in the air, and slowly sifting into her luscious skin. There wasn't as much grief though, but there was a sufficient amount stored. The same could be said of fear and anger. But love, was at a maximum. There was almost no limit to the amount of love in the air. Springtime fever had hit the people, and Delilah was profiting from their most carnal emotions.

If someone looked hard enough they could see the subtle changes in her face, as the overabundant love was put to use in sculpting a new visage for the Pretador.

[Aesalon]

Andrew approached the small outdoor café, scanning the people there for the young woman he was supposed to meet. The plaza and park were both unusually busy for 8:30 AM, brimming with humanity going about its daily business, completely unaware that in a few moments everything in Century City was going to change. Drew checked his pockets to assure himself that the letter he was here to deliver was in fact still there – the letter that signaled the end to the long-standing order of things in this god forsaken place.

Drew had not looked at the letter, he didn’t need to – the enclosed message was written all over the face of Cirro Ponzo when he handed it over to be delivered. Surrender. A sentiment that only a few months ago would have caused the crime lord known as the Pit Boss into a terrifying frenzy. Now though, there were stories – stories of how once proud mob bosses had been brought under the thumb of the man called Charlie. Elias James was found by his bodyguard frozen solid in his sauna, Razor Ascali was found dismembered inside his locked panic room … there were at least a dozen similar hits and Ponzo was the last major player left in Century City. It was only a matter of time before this new criminal overlord turned his attention to the riverfront operations of the Pit Boss.

He was startled by the sudden appearance of a server asking if he needed anything. For a few moments, he looked at her blankly before giving himself a rapid shake and politely declining. Even though the letter was weighing heavily on his mind, he was troubled by what was in his other pocket even more. With his left hand he pulled out the black fabric mesh cowl that had once belong to a man who had called himself The Shroud. This man was dead; dead by Andrew’s hand and for some reason the guilt was eating him alive…

…The snow had fallen lightly the night before, Andrew and 2 of Ponzo’s men were waiting on the docks, the two thugs seemed nervous – knowing that the last month had seen a number of these deliveries disrupted by some masked vigilante who seemed to attack from the shadow. Only Drew knew that this was a trap, to be sprung merely by his presence. As if he were summoned a voice from the roof of a low-slung two story warehouse echoed into the early morning fog. What The Shroud said was lost in the surprised exclamation that escaped as a single brick broke free from the century-old mortar and the would-be hero fell, breaking his neck….

…Andrew came aware from his lucid memory and finally noticed that his phone was ringing. “Get on your game” He muttered under his breath. Pulling the phone from his inside pocket Drew answered: “MacInnes…” No one answered, “This is Andrew.” He heard movement on the other end of the line, but still no response. “Who IS this?” Drew hissed into the phone, and almost immediately the person on the other end hung up the line. The young meta shoved his phone into his pocket, and attempted to get his mind back on to the task at hand. Soon enough his eyes fell upon the young lady who could only be Charlie’s girl, and he started to cross to the table where she was seated.

[Guilty Carrion]

The coffee was bitter.

Faye wrinkled her nose, setting the cup down and reaching for the sugar for the seventh time. She had been waiting for the arrival of Cirro ‘The Pitboss’ Ponzo’s man since the small café had opened, although the young woman was still working on her first cup of coffee. Who could blame her? It left a foul taste in her mouth, and was nothing compared to the rich flavors she had brewed in the coffee pot back in the office for Charlie that morning. Another mound of white powder vanished into the dark liquid, sucked away into the whirlpool that Faye’s spoon was creating.

A soft smile spread across her face, as a contented sigh escaped her lips.

The coffee was terrible, but the job had been entrusted to her by Charlie himself, and when he had explained how vital it was to his plans that she do everything exactly as she was told, the young woman had been beyond elated. Another chance to prove her value! Another chance to show that he had spent his money wisely!

Her heart pounded like thunder in her chest just at the memory, and she felt as though she was sitting on a cloud, just basking in the warmth of the sun and letting all her cares slip away. Raising the cup to her lips, her smile grew when she found it rather enjoyable, not the vile concoction that they had tried to pass off as a drink it had been before.

Her good mood soon got better, when she spotted the approaching form Andrew MacInnes, exactly the man Charlie had predicted would come. Reaching into the pocket of her pants, she thumbed the small die that he had given her earlier. This was all to be low key, no fancy meetings, just a hand off hidden in the pretense of two young adults meeting for an early morning coffee.

He sat across from her at the table, but no words were exchanged as he produced the envelope that this whole meeting was about. She picked it up from the table, and slipped it inside her back pocket, before holding out the die for him to see. A second ticked past, before she quietly tossed it onto the table, her steel eyes watching it like a hawk, as it clattered and rolled to a stop just before Drew.

“5.” Her smile grew wide, before she rose from her seat. “I’ll deliver this to Charlie right away.” Her voice was warm, but possessed a hidden edge that spoke of how dangerous the petite woman truly was. Flicking her hair out of her face, Faye started past him, only to brush gently against his arm for a brief second. It was all she needed.

Snatching up a trio of Danishes for Charlie, she quickly paid her tab, and stepped out onto the busy streets of Century City. Would he try and follow her? Maybe. He was an idiot if he believed that he could keep up though.

Her footsteps carried her quickly towards a nearby alleyway, and the meta gazed up at the hanging steps of a fire escape. With the bag securely held in her mouth, she rocketed up the wall with feline-like grace, leaping across the small gap and landing on the escape with a satisfying clang. Catching the sun in the corner of her eye, Faye frowned.

The meeting was soon. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to be on time. Without a second thought, she raced up the fire escape, moving as though the devil himself was on her heels. A half hour later found her thundering across the rooftops, leaping the gaps and ducking obstacles at speeds that would make the average man feel exhausted just watching.

Skidding to a stop, she allowed herself a brief moments rest as she looked down the side of the office building. Charlie’s Balcony was just below, and judging by the small wisps of smoke he was indeed inside. Taking a quick second to fix her hair and ensure she was presentable, Faye was pleased to find the run had done little to ruin her appearance that couldn’t be fixed with a little patting. Of course, she would have preferred something a little more flattering than black jogging pants, but she supposed the tight grey tank top would have to make up for it. Not that she had ever seen Charlie ever take a look at her, but maybe today would be different. It had been so wonderful so far, maybe she’d have a little extra luck.

With that in mind, she dropped onto the balcony, and slipped inside. Faye strolled over to his desk, patting the bag she had slung over her arm. “Good morning, Charlie. I brought you some breakfast.” It was a challenge just keeping her composure around him when she had such good news for him, but she was thankful that it wouldn’t be long till she could spill the beans.

Placing the bag of Danishes on his desk, she took one of the two chairs opposite him, and fixed her eyes on his form. She never tired of watching him. His calm demeanor, his unshakeable cool; even the way his cigarettes hung from his lips captivated her like the sweetest of siren songs, and taunted her with its position on his lips. She puffed out her lips, as noticeable envy settled across her features. She would kill to be that cigarette right now.

“The hand-off went fine. Here’s the message.” The note slid across his desk, before she smiled wide. “And you were right about Andrew MacInnes, Charlie. I did exactly as you said, and sure enough, it was a five. I slipped the note is in his pocket.” The meta chuckled. “He probably won’t even notice it’s there.”

[Dax]

“Gaahahha! She squirmed soo much! She was a fighter, that’s for damn sure! Her soft lips were soo…mmm…and her legs…ahhh… she was a fine specimen. Too bad all that’s left of that delicious girl is now nothing but a pile of frozen flesh…”

Joe Williams murmured to himself as he walked to streets of Century city. The morning air was cool, and this was Joe’s favorite time of day. Ah yes, the morning; when all of the pretty little specimens have their perfume still fresh and their hair still perfect. Joe always adored taking a stroll at this very time for that very reason.

In fact, it’s at this time of day where Joe usually marks his victim. The 74 year-old kills around once or twice a week and follows them for the majority of the day before striking at night. Joe would either be the stalker type, or he may play around a little... especially if he decides to strike at a public place. On those occasions, Joe would talk to his victim, instill a false sense of comfort… and then make his victim wish she had never met him. That was the case for last night. Leslie Parkton is a fine one indeed. Well, she was.

“Today was to be soo much fun, ho yes, soo fun,” whispered Joe to himself. “Maybe a couple hours roaming the streets, then more at the café is in order. Then maybe a look at that brunette…ohh yes the brunette. I like the brunette. Guhh… maybe she’ll be next... OHH YES! SHE’LL B-“

At that moment, Joe was about to cross the street and as fate would have it, a charming young lady chose to be at that particular street, at that particular morning, at that particular second and to that particular man to show up. She had the kindness to help Joe across the city-street. Consequently, Joe had to suppress his personal mumblings so this dear girl wouldn’t hear any of it. We couldn’t have any suspicion whatsoever on poor old Joe, now could we?

After being helped over, he waved away the girl who continued on. The senior then started once again to mumble to himself but only much softer this time. “Hmm, that brunette will have to wait. That girl seems much more… interesting.” Joe licked his lips while he said that to himself.

Smiling and lightly laughing to himself, Joe continued his walk to his unique destination for today: Charlie’s office.

Joe found the designated building easily enough and waltzed in. The concierge was there. He was, boringly enough, watching re-runs of last night’s hockey. Joe’s perfectly shined shoes adorned with metal heels clicked in perfect harmony with his cane on the shimmering tile floor. The concierge looked up from his desk; he was fresh as always because 9 o’clock was about the time when the shifts changed around here for the concierge. Well, it seemed that way anyway. The young man now finally recognized Joe.

“Oh, Mr. Williams,” shot the concierge in a disappointed tone. “How won-der-ful it is to see you again. You know where to go, please go without show this time…”

Naturally, Joe let the young man’s words go in one ear and out the other. Joe slid behind the young man with dazzling speed. “Hush boy, I didn’t see the game last night and I’d be wonderfully pleased if your puss-filled mouth would keep itself closed so I can watch our team get destroyed in peace.” Joe turned his head over to the concierge once again. “You wouldn’t want what happened last time to happen again, now would you?” After a couple seconds of an intense staring contest, Joe collapsed into a hysterical laughter. Last time, Joe ended up killing one of the concierge’s sisters. But that was awhile ago. While Joe was laughing, the concierge sighed and turned on the radio that sat right next to the mini-TV. He put on some disgusting pop, rap or other disgusting young people music. Joe’s laughter stopped immediately.

“If I told you once,” said Joe, his breathing getting hoarse, “I’ve told you a thousand, thousand, thousand, THOUSAND times.” Joe took his cane, and placed the tip on the tuning knob to switch channels. “Class, not puss,” yelled out Joe. He started laughing again and turned the knob to the best classical music channel in town. They were playing Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma. “Ah yes, now THIS is good.”

The concierge just rolled his eyes. Joe proceeded to smacking him on the head with his cane. “Piece of shit,” said Joe as he walked to the elevators. “Keep this music up until I come back down here and maybe next time I will make sure that your sister…well the one that’s alive, never meets me!” Joe laughed wildly a he waited for the elevator, before deciding to sing along with Pavarotti.

“Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincero! Vincero, vincerooooooooo!”

And as the instrumental melody kicked in and the applause roared through the small speakers, Joe turned to the concierge. The old man stepped backwards into the now arrived and open elevator door and took a deep bow. As the doors closed and Joe went up to meet Charlie, the concierge sighed. “Creep,” he mumbled to himself. Yet, as always, the concierge heard one last sentence come from Joe. “HEY, I heard THAT!”, was that sentence. Joe’s voice resonated from the elevator shaft.

This entire meeting between those two happened exactly the same way every time Joe came to see Charlie. Only the song from the radio would differ visit to visit, thus Joe’s sing-along or dance-along changed as well. But it scarcely mattered; Joe knew his music. Joe adored the visits, the concierge less. But deep down, Joe was sure that he was the most exciting part of the concierge’s day. After all, how much fun could it be to sit at a desk all day doing practically nothing but watch re-runs, right?

Joe finally reached the wanted floor and walked out. Like a dart, Joe headed straight to Charlie’s office. He opened the door and walked in only to Faye sitting on Charlie’s desk. Faye was once again and unsurprisingly looking at Charlie with pleading eyes. Charlie himself was evidently sitting at his own desk, apparently not taking the hint. But what did this old man know about Charlie’s romantic life? Nothing. That’s what.

Joe then walked straight to a chair sitting in a corner of the room and sat down. He placed his cane on the left side of the chair and his hat on the top right corner of the piece of furniture and shifted his gaze to Charlie’s desk. The old man crossed his legs and placed his arms on them. He sat in a very relaxed way, as he always would before these briefings. This was the part where Joe played a game with himself. The game was entitled: Guess what job you are going to be stuck with next!

“Morning,” was all that Joe said, unleashing his wide, crazy-looking grin upon his two cohorts.

[Bird of Hermes]

Maximilian Maxwell had been waiting for this day for what had seemed like his entire life.

One would think that if one had what was bordering on thirty years to prepare for one ninety second moment one would be more than ready for the situation. However, nothing could have entirely prepared “The White Rabbit” for what he would encounter at the doorstep of the quaint little establishment. His fantasies about this moment fell short in describing the utter strangeness that Maxwell would encounter.

How Maxwell had come to this lone house in Century City was of little concern. The man had lived in this city his entire life and had not once left for greener pastures. Still, it was curious that he had never chanced an encounter with the Mad Hatter or the Cheshire Cat before. His mother had led on that the duo lived elsewhere, not right under his little pink nose. There were a lot of things his mother had left out, as he would soon discover. Whether this was intention or just the flaws of limited precognition, Maxwell does not know.

What the animal-like man did know was that this very event was important enough to cause his dear mother to risk her life, to alter her unborn son’s genes, to alienate her husband and to cause a whole slew of other less than desirable things. It must be pretty damn important. Maxwell thought this as he straightened the collar of his meticulously tailored blue suit and dusted of its white ruffled tuxedo shirt. The man always had an air of sophistication about him from his agile rabbit feet to his stick-straight tail to his clean fur ears. He checked his pocket watch with a gloved hand.

Well, at least he was not late for this very important date.

Of all the times his mother – and sometimes Maxwell, himself – saw visions of the ‘tea party’, the White Rabbit had never truly seen the others’ faces. The Cat and the Hatter, who appeared predominantly in the episodes, were somehow obscured by the hazy essence of his clairvoyance. He has tried every trick in the book for enhancing the visions, but few ever worked. Even his pocket watch had failed. Perhaps that was why he appeared startled when the cast finally came into his view.

“The White Rabbit has decided to join us!”

The next thing Maxwell knew was a girl pulling on his hand and leading him inside; the poor thing hadn’t even the time to knock. So much for preparations. Things were about to move much faster than Maxwell was ready for.

Wasn’t it he who was supposed to lead the way into the rabbit hole?

As Maxwell was lead into the room by what must be the Cheshire Cat, the rabbit was greeted by another who must be the Mad Hatter. As he was serenaded with an absolutely audacious arrangement of articulate, accurate and allegorical alliterations, Maxwell just stared with dull red eyes. His mind was reeling just as much as the Hatter’s host’s was. At least, the Cat seemed to understand his wiles. Maxwell tried to compose himself for his overdue introduction, but had to start a few times before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

Finally, he manages to speak his name: “Maximilian Maxwell.”

His mind rang with the after effects of hearing yet another alliteration.

[Squall Reyes]

Charlie had looked over the papers on his desk, boring and meaningless summery of takes and costs. It wasn't the money that drove Charlie. It was the power, he cared for one thing and one thing only. Did the city belong to him? Were the right people under his thumb and was there anyone out there who could stop him? As of right now, Charlie had one major city under his thumb and he had selected this one to be next. He heard the small footsteps of his most valuable property land on his balcony.

Even after the breakfast was dumped on the desk, Charlie was still looking through all the papers. A plan was forming in his mind. A plan in which 3 quick steps, city hall and the police will be under his thumb. After finalizing the plan in his mind looked over to the bag of Danishes as he reached over to retrieve one from the bag. Plans are great and all but one needs fuel to put them into effect. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he noticed a look on Faye’s face. He knew that look, he’s received them many times from ladies in his many clubs. A smirk sneaked on Charlie’s lips, he still had it.

As he began to eat the Danish, his young. attractive second-in-command began to give him a report of mornings mission. He took the letter with one hand while putting down his rather good Danish on the desk. But the next bit of news mad his eye brows raise, so he was right about that punk who was under the Pit Boss. Charlie got a devious smile on his lips, best to take things one at a time. The letter was unspectacular. A simple and very ashamed letter of surrender. He also detected a hint of fear in it, from the Boss's almost plea for the best possible deal.

Before he had a time to think about Drew however the door opened once again. In walked a rather up and at'em Joe, and that made Charlie’s blood boil. Charlie at first greeted the older man with a friendly smile while he lowered the letter. “So Joe….you look to be in a dapper mood. And I really cannot help but ask, why? We’ve been here two years, and as I recall you had quite the time in Empire City before we decided to come here and expand.” Charlie slowly got up from his chair and walked to the side of the desk leaning against it.

“But here as you know we must control you urges, and yet as I recall the last time I authorized you to have your fun was 3 weeks ago. And now you come in here, damn near whistling and skipping and I can’t help but realize that you," Suddenly Charlie slammed his fist on the table, leaving a grand indent on the top. “KILLED A YOUNG WOMAN WITH OUT MY PERMISSION! AND COULD POSSIBLY BRING DOWN THE ENTIRETY OF THE FUCKING FEDERAL GOVERNMENT DOWN ON OUR HEADS!” With a cough, Charlie adjusted his suit and looked back at the older man with steel eyes. “Do NOT let this oversight happen again.”

Charlie once again took a step back near the back corner of the table and touched a switch under the edge. Suddenly the middle of the desk slid open with a soft hiss and a screen came up. As it came on it showed various pictures of men with X’s or O’s around their names. Along with a map with certain buildings highlighted. “Now then lets get down to some real business shall we?” His hand waved over to the young woman in front of him, “Thanks to the lovely Faye we now know that the Pit Boss has made the wise move of getting out of our way. This leaves us open to commit to the next phase of the plan, grasping control of both city hall and the police.”

Charlie chuckled a bit and reached onto his desk and held up some of the papers he had been reading before they arrived, “Thanks to our knowledge from the underworld we know that Mayor Reed has a great liking to the young and beautiful women. Because of this the plan is simple, the Mayor will get a very special VIP offer from one of our many, many adult establishments for tonight. Faye will play the role of our sweet and innocent young dancer," This description of Faye made Charlie smile a little. “But do wait a few moments dear, before you get trigger happy, perhaps allow the honorable Mayor remove his pants before giving him an offer he can’t refuse.”

As he put down the papers Charlie gave a suspiciously fraudulent sigh of sadness. “Sadly, it seems that this hell hole seems to have an up right and, yes, untouchable Police Chief by the name of Joshua Higgins.” Charlie’s fraud frown slowly folded up into a mischievous grin, “Untouchable to bribes perhaps, but not to bullets. Tomorrow night, the dear Chief will be opening and dedicating a new youth center to “do away with the temptation of our children to join gangs.” Faye, make it a clean, but loud kill. I want the people to fear that there is a power in the city that can eradicate any life form it deems fit at anytime.”

Charlie’s eyes turned his attention to the old man, “Now our honorable puppet Mayor cannot let some great crime such as assassination stand! He must quickly pick a new chief of police to combat the evil organization which killed the last loved leader. And I have just the man for the job," Charlie’s fingers ran through papers before snatching one up. “Captain Jeffery Burke, head of Vice division, 25 year man on the force and a former associate of one of the many dearly departed crime bosses. Joe, this guy sounds more like a business man, ask him how he likes the title of “chief of police” as well as our promise of all the vices and money the man needs.” As he got off of the desk he looked back at the young woman in front of his desk, “Also keep an eye on her will you? If anyone happens to see her, please do away with them. By whatever means necessary.”

Charlie walked to the window as he continued to speak, “Now to the most pressing matter, we have a new MAJOR player to the board. Andrew MacInnes. For some time I had been watching him and the way the dice falls for his dead friends over with the Pit Boss. Including today’s experiment, it could be theorized that the man possesses some sort of ability to make things fall his way. This could be a powerful ally or enemy. I must have some time alone to speak with him, and convince him that a alliance to us will be in his best interest. Or to kill him. But how….”

Charlie’s eyes fell upon the skeleton of a new skyscraper being built across the street to his office. A smile slowly and eerily creeped onto his face. The plan ran from every angle in his mind until he finally spoke. “I have an idea….”

After over 2 hours of planning Charlie sat back up on his chair and with a nod said, "Then it's all set, I shall make the call. If Drew isn't dead or with us by the end of this night we move on to plan B. You 2 know what to do. Don't disappoint me." Charlie waited for a moment as the two left his office closing the door. Charlie took a deep drag of his cigarette and picked up the phone. Dialing a few numbers Charlie waited patiently until the called was answered. "Ponzo? It's Charlie, I've got your message. And I've got quite the offer for you. How would you like to keep your bar and position for a mere 5% of your earnings? What do I want? I want Drew to visit me at Sin tonight. Alone."

[Guest]

Fiere listened to the Hatter and she could only roll her eyes at him. He could be so odd sometimes! She was sure the rabbit was going to run as Hatter relinquished control to Thomas, but when the white eared male didn’t move, Fiere decided to go and grab the aspiring Thomas had asked for. The tune she whistled was something her mother had once sang to her. It reminded her of the old days, which might or might not be a good thing. Life before Hatter was difficult for the poor neko girl. Shaking her head, she handed Thomas his medicine and she went into her bedroom to change. The Hatter had plans for them tonight.

Hatter, Max and Fiere all made their way towards a rather infamous nightclub in Century City. It was called Sin for a reason. The three entered and all of them already knew the plan. The heroes of this city were all rumored to be here as was the newest rise of power in the under belly, Charlie. Hatter knew far too many things about these people and how he acquired it bothered Fiere a bit. Of course, she wasn’t going to say anything to him. No reason to say anything after all. Though she couldn’t help but feel bad for Thomas. He was always getting in trouble for the Hatter’s decisions.

Music pumped heavily in the club and the sound hurt her ears. She covered them with her hands as they walked in. Thomas handed her a thick wool hat to put over her hears and he handed once to Max as well. He told them they would drown out most of the sound and lucky for them both, he wasn’t lying. As they walked through, the neko girl was careful to take notes of all those in the club. Sitting with a group of giggling girls was the female who had just celebrated her birthday up the road from the Tea Party Guests home. Not far from her was the girl from the balcony, sipping on a drinking and possibly drinking other things as well. Then there was a small group of men, one she recognized as the elderly man she helped out earlier, but she couldn’t get a good look at the other two. What were they talking about?

Her ears twitched under her hat and she kind of wished they were free. Sure, the noise would kill her, but she hated having her hearing muffled like this. Fiere batted at her covered ears with her fingers as she sat down near the group of giggling girls. Each of the neutrals had a job of grabbing a hero and heading out of the door with them. Max was to grab the emotion eater while Hatter had the task of grabbing the Pit Boss's boy from Charlie. Her tail swished behind her as she asked the bartender for a drink. He asked for her ID and all she had to do was lean over the bar a bit and wag her tail to get him to give her what she wanted. Men and their fantasies. Her purple hues rolled once more as she looked over her outfit.

Tonight she wore a mini skirt that flared out like the bottom of a tutu and a tank top that showed off her midriff covered her upper half. Her makeup was nothing more than a shiny lip gloss and eye shadow. She didn’t any more than that. A few girls looked at her and whispered comments, which got them dirty looks and the bird from the neko. She needed Thomas here to calm her down. Other females riled her up way too easily. Fiere ordered a few shots and downed them quickly. Her head was starting to spin, but her fast metabolism would keep her from getting too drunk before she was needed. Finally, she spotted Thomas; at least she assumed it was Thomas, sitting near the table where Charlie sat with Drew and Joe. She narrowed her eyes at him almost in a warning, though she doubted he could see the glare. Hatter had better not mess this up. There would be hell to pay if he did.

[Aesalon]

Andrew sat and watched Charlie's girl walk away and disappear into the crowd at the plaza. Only after he was sure that she had truly moved on did he allow himself to consider the small ivory cube that had come to rest in front of him on the table. Drew knew that his strange power had activated, he had felt time seem to slow to a crawl as the young woman produced and threw the die with a single efficient motion. It had rolled, banging upon the glass table with an impossible loudness...once...twice and then a third time before it began to skid. Two pips clearly showed on the die until it hit some nearly invisible flaw in the table and it took one last tumble, finally laying to rest showing a five.

The exercise had obviously been a test, a test that proved to Andrew that the most powerful man in Century City was aware of who he was and what he could do. He quietely pocketed the die alongside the deadmans mask, and his fingers came upon the letter enclosed in a small envelope - she must have slipped it into his pocket when she has 'accidentally' bumped into him as she was leaving the cafe. His fingers turned the missive over and over, looking at the simple unadorned envelope. After a few minutes, he finally collected himself, took a breath and began to tear open the letter.

Andrew was sure that hours had passed (...Andrew, I would like to meet...) since he had finally gathered the nerve to read the invitation. (...discuss options...) Drew had never met Charlie in person, though he had seen the man once. (...incredible opportunity...) In some ways, the man reminded him of his foster-father, Cirro Ponzo. (...wealth and power...) He was a dangerous man, but unlike the Pit Boss, Charlie appeared to have no soft edges. (Meet tonight, Sin, 8:00 PM Sharp.) Andrew was sure that Charlie was not a man to extend invitations, he had no questions that this was nothing less than a thinly veiled order. Drew had to make a decision, and he only had a few short hours to make it.

Andrew didn't remember the path he took home, in fact, he was suprised to realize that he was walking up the staircase. His 2000 square foot condo was sparsely furnished, only a recliner and a modest flat screen TV were visible in the living space. It wasn't much, but for him, it was more than enough. Drew emptied the contents of his pockets onto the black granite kitchen countertop - his wallet and cell phone from one pocket, his lucky 1908 Silver Dollar from another. The letter and the die came next and finally he paused as the cowl of The Shroud was last. He looked over the meager pile of belongings and realized how little he had that he actually cared about. "I suppose it was only a matter of time", he said aloud to his nearly empty condo, supressing a heavy sigh that almost followed.

After a shower and a change of clothes to the more casual sport coat and jeans, Andrew deftly picked up the items from his counter. The Wallet, phone and coin were tucked into the interior jacket pocket. He paused for a moment before stashing the mask into a pocket of his jeans. Last, he picked up the die and rolled it against the backsplash of his counter. After it settled, he grinned, then turned on his heels, lightly whistling as he walked out the door. Andrew MacInnes was finally, for the first time in 3 months content with the course of action that he had decided to take...with any luck, he may even live through it.

The club called Sin pulsed like a heartbeat, and on another night, Andrew might have joined the tight crowd of twenty-somethings who all came here to have a memorable evening that they were all likely to forget by morning. Charlie was easy to spot, no one else radiated danger the way that he did. Andrew was sure that Charlie was not alone, that he had lackeys hovering around the club - but it was only Charlie that he was afraid of. Andrew, to his own suprise and credit, walked up to the crimelord without hesitation, sat down and directly asked: "What is your offer Charlie?"

[MoiraofWords]

The transformation was nearly complete. What was smooth became sculpted. What was straight became curved. The eyes had shifted to a pale blue-gray. And hair that seemed to be painted on by master hairdressers in japan. Florescent pink hair at ear length, with eyes that churned with the storm-ridden seas, with more angular joints in the strong visage. Delilah was now the picture of a punk woman from the far east. The final change had taken place within a secluded alley, as it was more provident to not provide anyone with a basis for suspicion. Noe one deserved to know the fifth aspect of her power outright.

But she needed more fuel. As much as this power drove her life, Delilah loathed it. It had destroyed her family. But if she was to use it to continue onwards, she needed to absorb a high concentration of emotions quickly. And the best place to do that were sweaty, gyrating people. Specifically, clubs. And there is one club that is most decadent. One that everyone knows. One that is known as Sin. But that sin, while apparently on the top, would not sink to the bottom where the truth lay.

While the illusion permeated appearance, it would be pierced by smell or extravagant touch. And it didn't go both ways. So Delilah rejoiced in the warm air, coursing through her supple hair. It soothed her, calming her troubled heart, as much as it could feel. Her resolve had been set, and it was time to face the realm of the clubbers.

Shoes quite similar in appearance to that of her apparent countenance clacked on the ground, making her intent clear. This was a woman that was ready to party. Her blue eyes focused on the bouncer, and her smile was a mile wide. There was no doubt that Delilah was getting in. As her smooth legs bounced by, her hand rested on the enforcer's shoulder for just a moment, absorbing the lust right out of his body. While it wasn't pure love, it was able to enforce her transformation for another few minutes. And that was all anyone could require.

So the throbbing music pulsed all around her. The bodies pulsed. And slowly, her capacities swelled. There was a hint of fear in the air. Presumably from drug users, especially those diving into a world they never even thought of before. Anger, at being snubbed, and other various reasons. Love, or lust anyway, leaking off of the sweaty bodies. Sadness... was not very evident. People don't go to clubs if they are sad. And joy, in those dancing to the music. Almost everything was there, everything to feast on.

But it didn't matter who. Nor did it matter why. While the good of the people was her concern, it would benefit them most if all worked for the good of her. For the moment, nonetheless. The lithe body glided over the floor, making contact here and there, dancing for moments to loose the concern of those she touched. They were enthralled, delighted to be dancing, until the close embrace, where everything ebbed away. With a kiss, given or blown, the Pretador flowed through the dance hall, feasting on the abundance and overwhelming feelings surging through the public.

The bar was a good place to be, as that was where the only sadness within the room would be, with those that would drink their sorrows away, or nursed alcohol after being dragged to this loathsome bar by cheerful, insipid friends, hoping to lighten up the darkness that plagued their hearts. Many would feel her hands linger over them for a moment, siphoning that which lingered within the soul, soothing the beast that raged their body. And they could stand, albeit hollow, for the first time in weeks. And on the way, she bumped by the girl with the tutu, siphoning something out. But there was no concern for what. All that could be gained would be gained, and potentially used for the future to come.

And while the appearance of a peppy, plausibly asian punk girl floated around the room, chattering like a hummingbird all over the place nonsense, it was more akin to a bee, siphoning nectar off of all the abundant flowers that coated the building.

[Rigi]

The universe had to have had the worst sense of humor. Ece figured that out in the early morning, when the sun was too heavy on the horizon to try to lift itself up too far. The air simply smelled new as it did in mornings, crisp and untouched. A lack of normal city chatter kept the air still; when the normal symphony of busy bees filled the air, it tickled Ece’s nose in the most peculiar and bothersome fashion.

It was at this very time, this very moment in the morning, when Ece was most at ease, with no need to concentrate on blocking out any thoughts of those around her, or calm herself to avoid unnecessary use of her abilities.

Donning a thin bound scarf, a jacket, shorts and sneakers, she walked down the quiet street, making her way to wherever the wind was taking her. It didn’t matter. She didn’t quite care. Despite herself, she giggled.

The peace was cut short, a sharp cry yanking her back into reality. Ece’s head buzzed, panic filling her veins. She grabbed her head and recoiled. It was distress; something needed saving. There were no words in the cries, just the simple feelings that were the baseline of emotions. Emotions like fear. Quickly, she surveyed her surroundings, spotting a small tabby colored shape perched warily on breezy scaffolding that had been added onto a building under construction. Closer inspection revealed that it was a cat in distress, and no one was doing shit about it. A little girl was crying and reaching for their trapped pet.

Ece pulled her mask out of her purse, putting it on and tying the sash so it stayed. She ran over, pausing to look at the scaffolding for only a moment before grabbing the nearest rail and pulling herself up. Below, she could hear the girl cheering her on. Scaling the structure wasn’t quite as easy as Ece had hoped, but she made it to the kitten without falling. Slowly she reached out to the cat, careful not to frighten it before grabbing its collar and climbing back down. As she handed it back to the girl, something slipped from under the collar, a folded note with a piece of tape. Curious, she unfolded it.

The only word was scrawled in shaky blue pen. SIN.

“Like the night club?” she mumbled to herself. More than a block separated her from the scaffolding incident’s site and her mask was tucked safely in her purse, but her mind seemed to wander distances farther than that. So many things were buzzing in her head. Was she set up? Clearly someone wanted her there. But when? Mathematic equations flashed into her mind for a moment before disappearing; in the setting of the city, and the amount of time the average human needed to solve a riddle so scarce, she figured it would be likely around late at night, after they had given up for a while before it would dawn on them. Ece looked at the sky. Still some waiting time, but she’d be there, for whatever reason.

When the time came, she in fact was there, the pounding music shaking her very core. Knowing she wouldn’t quite fit the bill of a clubber, Ece had exchanged her shorts and sneakers for leggings and flats, keeping her denim jacket and scarf. It took a lot of concentration to keep out the constant buzzing of people as they thought less-than-profound thoughts. But, Ece was involved in whatever she was involved in, and she simply had to wait.

[Squall Reyes]

Charlie's day had gone one without much excitement, just more information of the days take and people who may had believed the they were in no need of his, "protection". All things that would eventually be sowed up, either by his own people convincing them to pay or after he takes power and no one is stupid enough to say no. He smiled at the papers, the money was fine sure, but he noticed the list of those who refused to pay was small, smaller than it has ever been. It was a great indication of how well he was known, and right now he had found a sweet spot. The small list told him that people new there was a new power in town to be respect, but the fact there were some who refused to pay told him that who he was and what he could do was not public knowledge. Yet.

He arrived at the club very early, early enough to have dinner there and not be bothered by dozens of stupid and hormonal early 20 year olds. Make no mistake he enjoyed his club, enjoyed the location, the women, the Jack Daniels and Wild Turkey. But oh did he loath most of the people; lazy, hormonal, weak little humans. He could do away with half the cities 21 year olds on a good night in his club, and that thought made him lick his lips more than the medium-rare porterhouse steak on his plate. But alias that would simply mean the end of his little club, and there was simply to many more women, booze and fun to be had here before that.

Finally after a few more hours of waiting the club began to fill with the vile young adults that Charlie was so unfond of. However it also began to fill with some women who Charlie must admit he certainly approved to being around. However all that would have to wait because our of the corner of his eye coming through the door he spotted the young Drew. Charlie could hardly hide his sidious smirk, once the younger man began to walk toward him. Either his reputation had preceded him, or he simply had the look of a king. Either way Charlie’s ego grew as Drew took a seat across from him.

"What is your offer Charlie?"

Charlie could help but chuckle slightly at the mans quick and blunt question. Charlie had plenty of time, and Drew posed little danger to him, for now. So he decided to play around with the young man, “Right to the point. That’s the problem with you kids nowadays, your so impatient. You just don’t seem to have the same proper respect and etiquette that your seniors have. Let me give you a lesson , the first thing you do at a business meeting is shake hands. And introduce yourself.” Charlie held out a hand across the time, “Like so. Greeting Andrew, my name is Charlie Lango.”

After the fake pleasantries Charlie leaned back on his chair with a smile on his face, and took a cigarette from its case. He looked down to light it with his Zippo and suddenly looked up, all kidding aside. “It’s simple Drew you passed my test. Earlier if my associates dice had ended up as anything other than 5, she had direct order to blow your fucking head off for disappointing me.” A smirk returned to Charlie’s lips as the cigarette hung from his lips. “But you passed and now the deal is this. Join me. Join me and you’ll have all the benefits of joining me which begins at whatever you want and ends with the world.” Charlie chuckled at himself a bit before suddenly stopping and taking the cigarette from his lips. He slowly leaned over to the table, death was in his eyes. “However….if you say no to me, the only good luck that fucking power will get you, is the good luck of having a fucking quick death. You get me kid?”

[Bird of Hermes]

Maxwell was forced to get over his surprise very early in the game.

One does not have time to be surprised when in Wonderland. He should have known that. Hell, he should have known a lot of things. He was a clairvoyant, after all. But, as he was now finding, his visions were far from accurate or complete.

It was like the fact that the trio was now walking into the club aptly called Sin. Maxwell knew that the three would eventually go to the club in search for heroes. However, that was the extent of his knowledge. Maxwell didn’t know when or at what time. He didn’t know by which means he would get there. He didn’t know who would be there exactly. He didn’t even know exactly what would occur. And, as far as the ‘heroes’ were concerned, he didn’t know what sorts of people they would be.

The music in the club was loud and the beat was pulsing. The over-sized fedora on his head did drown out much of the noise, however. He would need to thank the Hatter later for the hat. He found the prospect of thanking a hatter for a hat mildly amusing. His vision was filled with blues and greens, the only two colors other than gray-scale that he could truly see, as the flashing strobe lights of the club panned the dance floor. He found the sights and sounds distracting.

His mind had barely grasped the events earlier in the day and now he was forced to focus on a mission that he doubted he would be able to complete. The Hatter - or was it Rynecraft - had told him that he would be responsible for finding the ‘emotion eater’ and getting her to walk out of the club with him.

There were many problems with his mission and Maxwell made sure to inform the Hatter of all of them. First, how would he know what the girl looked like if she really could look like anyone? Second, how would he find her amidst all of the other club-goers? Third, if he did manage to find her, how would he get her out of the club? The Hatter seemed to not care about his questions, however.

“You will pull something out of your hat.” What a horrible and silly suggestion.

If Maxwell was going to survive the evening, he was going to need a drink. Not to get drunk, mind you. He was a far too sophisticated man to do such a common thing. He simply needed a dash of wine to boost his morale.

While standing at the bar, the White Rabbit scanned the room. He sipped quietly his fine red wine. The girl must be somewhere. What would she look like? Would she even look like a female? He was beginning to think he would never find her.

That was until Maxwell felt the faintest touch on his arm and his whole state of mind swirled like a penny down a drain… until the man was left with a feeling of emotional emptiness.

The rabbit managed to force himself back into reality. That feeling – it was more than just the wine. It had to be. He hadn’t even taken more than a sip. The girl must be nearby.

Maxwell spun around quickly and almost lost his hat in the process. There was a girl that had just passed him… there she was! She was fluttering around the dance floor like a butterfly.

“Miss? Miss?!” Maxwell tried to speak over the blaring music. “Miss? May I have the pleasure of this dance with you?”

[Attie]

Today is going to be terrible.

When Zia got out of bed and rolled on to the floor this morning, finding the puddle of water from a leak days before that she'd yet to mop up, slipping on it as she got in and out of the shower, and realized the mess on her head was going to take a million hours to straighten... She knew it wasn't going to be a great day.

What would a girl like her care if the day was special? Why would someone like Zia give a damn about her hair or appearance? Why would she be brushing her teeth three times this morning instead of the usual one? Her mother, despite Zia's wishes, had decided to throw a birthday party in honor of her eighteenth birthday... At a park.

Really? Zia thought to herself as she combed through the ratted hair, a park birthday party? What am I, six? She didn't bother with make up; in her opinion, she didn't need it. Going over to the closet, she presumed this would be an occasion that every girl would want to dress up for. Turning eighteen meant another right of passage as a woman, legally to the world, and other small things like smoking, porn, and prostitutes. Smoking, a habit Zia had once thought about picking up if she could believe anything in the world could make you no longer stressed, wouldn't have affected her due to her healing abilities, but she felt 'above that'. Besides, if she was going to do favors for the community and save damn kittens from a tree, who would want a picture of her smoking to show their kids and be a terrible influence?

Right, you're thinking too much. Just pick a an outfit and let's get the ball rolling... Opening up her make shift chest of clothes, she picked out the first Tshirt and cargo pants she could find, slipped in to them, and after checking to make sure that all of her hair was flattened with an iron by this point, she stepped outside with the natural essentials. (Wallet, etc)

Skipping every other step or two down the the staircase, Zia jumped the last on and landed just barely, smacking in to some guy who'd threaten to kill her once or twice if she made a wrong move. With a brief smile, she slipped past him and out the door, waving off a finger as he cursed his ill-doings to her. As she made her way from the apartment complex, it didn't take long for her to reach the park that her mother had directed her towards. In fact, it appeared her mother had gone over board once again, guilt-ridden and spoiling her for everything she had gone through. Zia wasn't quite sure if her mother knew about her ability yet, but she always got this look lately about how she was going to be someone great some day.

Don't all mother's say that, though?

"Zia!" Her mother's voice was irreplaceable and you could not mistake it for another woman's if you wanted to. Unfortunately, no one else she knew had the name Zia, so she could never pretend she didn't know who she was talking to, either.

"Hi," Zia managed to pipe out before her mother smacked in to her with two arms squeezing whatever was left of her fresh air. Suffocating, Zia wondered if the petite woman was TRYING to see how much she could take in damages and repairs, but logically, she wouldn't be able to break any ribs by just lunging herself at her.

"I'm so proud of you, honey! You're eighteen years old!"

"Yeah. Older than some people get to be." Zia snapped, brushing the hairs on her arm with her free hand as she looked around casually. She bit her lip, looking towards her watch. Had she really spent the morning sleeping? It was already two o'clock in the afternoon. In attempt to make things go a bit faster and to ease the incredible tension she'd just caused, Zia gave her a crooked smile, "I'm sure they would have loved this. A free day at the park? Ice cream? Sodas?"

"Oh, me too." Her mother choked, walking off with the promise of bringing back a drink over her shoulder as she went to cry in solitude.

Despite the feelings and emotions every teenager has, Zia seemed to lack them when it came to her mother. She was immune to any bit of guilt that may come from her mother's tears when she reminded her repeatedly of the fault she'd had. Not that Zia wasn't at fault for making her mother feel continuously depressed about it. She was sure that her mother thought about it every day of her life. For some reason, Zia just couldn't get rid of that anger in her heart.

As if to read her expression, a group of teens came up to Zia with an evil grin upon their faces. One of the girls whispered something to the other while the guys who tagged along in 'wannabepunk' outfits gave a small wave or nod to Zia, as if to say, "Yeah.. Happy Birthday."

Zia turned around to meet them and folded her arms. "Did my mom really get you guys to show up?"

"No, but she didn't hide it from flyers and crap. Apparently she thought you were one of the popular people in town from all of your cinematics and heroics that she thought everyone would want to know it was your birthday in the park today."

"Fantastic.."

"No, don't grumble. We're here to save you," the other girl winked at her. "We bought you a killer dress, the five of us, and it's going to be the perfect thing for you to wear tonight at Sin."

Cocking an eyebrow, Zia kept her arms folded as if to keep herself from looking too excited, though she actually was. She hadn't received a real present for a birthday in forever. They'd never been able to afford it, previously. And a dress? Zia'd never admit that she didn't mind dresses, but she hardly ever wore them. As her friends pulled the dress from behind their backs, Zia looked over her shoulder at her mother, blew her a kiss and called out a thank you for the party before they pulled her along back to her apartment nearby to change her and make her look bedazzled before tonight's fun.

The dress made her feel invincible. She had to admit, she looked great. Her friends made sure to let her know it, too. They dolled up her straight hair, twisting it in to unbreakable knots that fit atop her head while applying eyeliner to her eyes to bring them out a bit. Her friends, Jenny and Caroline, were both in theatre and cosmetology classes at her school. With that piece of information in the back of her mind, Zia felt trusting enough to let them have a go at her before turning to face the mirror while the boys went out to order and pick up pizza and drinks so they could eat before they went out to Sin.

Naturally, Zia looked beautiful when they'd finished hours later, but even better, she looked herself, but with a smile. She looked like someone that was approachable, or even pretty enough to get a phony line or two at the club. She smirked, having never thought it something that would happen regardless, but the butterflies twirled in her stomach as the group of friends made their way in to the club and almost immediately on to the floor to dance, despite the looks they would or would not get.

The mile stone for her day? She got to flash her I.D. at the door for the first time at a club. Now for the real fun to begin.

[Aesalon]

It was strange to consider the things that ran through a person's head just before that person stepped off the edge. Andrew found himself thinking about his parents, not Cirro Ponzo who had raised him, but the parents that he never knew. He wondered about what his life would have been like if the Pit Boss had never found him, and somewhere in that unlived life and in the unseen faces of his unknown parents, Andrew MacInnes had found some semblance of strength. Drawing from that mysterious well, he had made his decision.

Charlie looked confident, he had every reason to. Sin was his club and in everything but name, Century City was his city. For a moment Drew backpedaled in his head. This was suicide... from somewhere his self-preservation instinct told him that he should accept the offer and look for a way out later. Maybe he could bring down Charlie's organization from the inside. Andrew knew himself better than that though, he knew that once he stepped onto the slippery slope of working for Lango there would be no turning back. This was the first time he had ever thought independently - Ponzo had always just told him where to be and what to do, if he said yes to Charlie, it would be too easy for him to fall back into those same routines.

Andrew had lived his life on the seedy underside of Century City. He had worked with some of the most powerful and dangerous people in the world, but not one of them was the equal of the man who he was sitting across the table from. Did this man even have a weakness? Charlie Lango, sitting there lecturing Drew on proper etiquette and in almost the same breath assuring him that crossing him was like signing your own death warrant...this was the man he was about to defy. He felt his resolve wavering one last time, but his hand absently found the cowl beloning to The Shroud and strangely enough the blank accusing eyes of the dead hero gave Drew the final push into the Abyss that held his assured death.

Drew tried his best not to look nervous as he approched the point of no return, "Charlie...". The new emporer of Century City waited across the table impatiently for Andrew's next words. "Thank you for the offer... see how polite I can be?" Andrew grinned at the crimelord. "I am afraid I will have to decline the opportunity." The rage in Charlie Lango's face would be almost comedic if it were not directed at him. No, this man was not one who was used to having his offers 'declined'.

Drew didn't have much time to enjoy Charlie's rise in blood pressure as he realized that he was in a VERY dangerous situation. His original exit plan had relied on being able to leave Sin before the crimelord ordered his execution, but now - he wasn't so sure that Lango wouldn't just kill him right there at the table in front of three hundred witnesses. Andrew MacInnes had to wonder if his luck was about to run out.

[Guilty Carrion]

Why did she always have to deal with the perverted old men?

Never would she question Charlie’s orders, but she was truly tired of being the bait for the politics and gang bangers of the city that wanted nothing more than to fuck her and leave her for dead in some ditch out in a desert.

Staring into the mirror, she contemplated the outfit the other call girls had been far too enthusiastic to get her into. Plush cat ears poked up from in-between her auburn locks, surprising in the fact that they matched her colour and seemed to be attached. The outfit fit snuggly, a thin strap barely covering her chest, and something akin to a thong to leave little to the imagination. A brown tail danced with every movement behind her, and frankly, she couldn’t help but feel ridiculous in this get up.

It’s all for Charlie. She reminded herself, putting on the seductive look she had seen in a movie once. As she strode out into the main room, she could practically hear the guard’s jaws drops. That bode well. Winking at them as she passed, Faye descended into the throng of bodies, gliding past them with ease. Every step displayed her legs like trophies, and her body moved in ways many men dreamed about.

Perhaps she was in the wrong profession?

She chuckled to herself, brushing past a rather burly man, only to stop when his hand caught her arm. “The Mayor wants to speak with you, Miss.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. She played her part well though, appearing meek and fragile in the presence of the towering mountain of muscle.

“Oh…I-I’ll see him right away, sir.” The man smiled at her, although it wasn’t meant to be comforting. Guiding her through the throng, he showed her into the private VIP room that the mayor was staying in. Completely soundproof, and elevated above the rest of the club. The perfect place for…negotiations.

She stumbled into the center of the room, fixing her eyes on the older man sitting on the large, plush red sofa. A small, elevated ‘stage’ was before him, complete with a stripper pole. No doubt meant for an appetizer before the main course. Climbing slowly onto the stage, her eyes found all three of the Mayor’s personal guards placed throughout the room. This was going to be easy…

“H-hello, Mister Mayor.” She trembled slightly under his approving gaze, and fought the urge to gag at the sight of the tent growing in his pants. Those won’t be coming off, you fucker. He didn’t respond, instead motioning for her to begin, leaning back in his chair to fully enjoy the show.

She nodded, and took hold of the pole. She was still for a moment, feeling the heavy beat pulsing through her body, sending vibrations running up through her core. Her eyes snapped opened, pupils dilating as memories rushed into her muscles, and her body took on a mind of its own. The meek girl vanished, replaced by a woman who could work the pole like it was an extension of her body, every movement driving those who watched her into an even deeper state of lust. So lost in her movements, they failed to notice as her hands coiled around the silenced pistols hidden just beneath the stage.

It was over before it began. Her pupils shrunk again, as her hands snapped the pistols up, and fire three rounds at the guards. Their hormone addled minds splattered against the walls, giving the room a lovely new grey flecked with red pattern wall paper. Before the mayor could even twitch, she was upon him, her foot placed beside his head, one pistol aiming downwards at his most prized possession. She snarled darkly, seemingly feral as she twisted the gun into the soft flesh, causing him to hiss in pain.

“Now listen, and listen good you old fuck…”

[Dax]

As unusual as it is for someone like Joe, the old man was able to keep it in his pants. For a pervert like himself, a club like this one is nothing short but heaven on earth. Perhaps on a normal day Joe would have walked into one of the many private rooms of the establishment and he would have enjoyed himself with a lovely young lady. This night, however, was different. On this night, Joe was working.

The old man sipped his scotch at the bar, staring intently at every single person in the goddamn place. Although Joe would have been a client, he preferred the ways of the old brothel: discreet and calm. Today was all about noise, fetishes, gallons of alcohol… and thundering music. Loud, thundering music. It was almost too loud for his old ears to bear.

Joe’s eyes squirmed as he looked for his associate. The old man was working tonight, yes, but his job was meager. He was to simply keep an eye on Faye as she did her job. Basically, it was babysitting. Joy. Joe would obviously rather baby-sit his associate than be at home, playing his grand-piano, drinking fine wine… maybe have a lady or two over…

Finally, he caught glimpse of her. She was wearing an extremely erotic garb, which was perfect, and looked and played the part of an innocent young girl to perfection. She probably decided to have some fun before going to work, because she took a certain liking into sending the men in her presence into a hormonal frenzy. Joe worked hard to suppress a chuckle. If only those young men knew what hid behind those deceivingly soft eyes. Joe simply watched the spectacle unfold.

Unfortunately, the show was cut short: another man, apparently an employee of the mayor’s, grabbed Faye’s arm… and then had the audacity of not even trying to conceal his wild fantasies that soo obviously loomed behind his sick eyes. Joe reminded himself that all was going according to plan. Despite the kind of person Joe is, which is childless and grand-childless …and a total loony, he took a sort of fatherly, or rather grandfatherly love for the young woman. What would one expect after soo many years of working together and a void that was present in Joe’s heart that needed to be filled?

Joe had to shake himself out of his thoughts, and just in time, too. The mayor’s goon was driving Faye to one of the VIP rooms were the mayor most probably would be found. Certainly enough, at one of the doors, up a couple of stairs, the goon shoved Faye and himself through one of the doors, disappearing inside. Two other men were standing to guard the entrance and one n’ only exit. Joe obviously has the obligation, as any sensible man would, to clear the door for the lady to pass through.

Finishing his beverage in one gulp, Joe darted to the door. “Show time,” he murmured to himself. Joe climbed the stairs and simply stood at the designated door with the two men and examined the situation first. The room was soundproof, above the rest of the club and well isolated. With these guards gone and the ones inside eliminated soon, the rest will be cake.

“The hell you looking at?”

The voice came from one of the guards. Joe, in sign of answer, just looked at him in the eye. He was to call him ‘Blondy’. What else could he be named after? He had short, blond hair with blue eyes, well, Joe thought so anyway. He could not see behind sunglasses.

“Hey, did you hear him? The fuck you want?”

That voice came from the other man, who had brown hair. Joe was to call him…’Crappo’. Yes, Crappo seemed right. He had brown hair, slightly tanned skinned… and looked like a turd. It was fitting, really. Joe simply turned his head and looked that man in the eye in guise of an answer. Both guards soon just looked at each other in exasperation and started reaching for what seemed to be a bump in their coat pocket. The meatheads did not possess the intelligence to use a shoulder holster to hide their gun. But before they could speak or act, Joe took control.

“Have you met my elephant, today? He says he misses you. You would not like to do that to my elephant, would you? Don’t even try and tell me that you don’t miss him. That would be a lie. I don’t like people who lie…”

Joe looked totally serious when he talked. The guards looked completely confused and slowly they brought their hands away from their guns. Yes that’s right, thought Joe, think I am crazy. Be calm, I won’t hurt you. It’s true you won’t feel a thing. A frozen nervous system always does the trick.

“Blondy,” said Joe, looking at Blondy, and then turning to Crappo, “Crappo, I have to tell you guys something… You guys suck. I thought my rainbow parakeet brought you some crackers from across the street to help the lady on her gardening work but you refused. Why did you refuse the crackers?”

Almost immediately after pronouncing those incoherent words, Joe attacked. In one swift motion, he flicked away his gloves and got in between the two men. Completely caught off-guard by the speed and agility of this seemingly crazy man, the two guards were ‘frozen’ in shock. This gave Joe enough time to kick one man behind the knee, making him kneel, and bashing the other behind the neck, this time with his cane. Both of the men where kneeling and stunned: they had no idea what the hell was going on.

Joe did not give them a chance to let them collect their senses and jabbed his hand behind both of their necks. Already, the effects were immediate. Their vocal chords started freezing first, so no screams were heard. Then the frost spread through the top of the chest and to the brain all while passing through the eyes and nose. The men could not breathe or see. All they could do was squirm in panic and sheer pain. Joe started to giggle. “Squirm, squirm, SQUIRM!”

Soon, the sadistic spectacle ended as the frost reached the men’s hearts and killed them instantly. They both fell to the floor in a loud thump. Amazingly, no one seemed to care what was going on. They were probably all stoned and drunk as fuck. This was good. Joe smiled, and kept his hand on the two men’s necks. Gradually the frost took control of their entire bodies and froze them solid. It looked as if they had been dropped in liquid nitrogen.

Casually, Joe picked them up and put them in a standing position, one on each side of the door. They looked like really bad decorations. And they were, in a way. After the deed was gone, Joe picked up his gloves, put them on, and made his way back to the bar. But that without first hearing muffled thumps. The thumps of dead bodies falling to the ground. The noise came from inside the room. It had started. Joe thought on how perfectly this mission was going to end. Especially his part. The two dead men were soo thoroughly frozen that they would not start melting until the next morning. In fact, at that moment, stoner with his whore decided to pass in front of the two frozen guards. The stoner stopped dead in his tracks and Joe felt his own blood turn cold.

The stoner just looked at the frozen Crappo. The stoner was obviously making a huge intellectual effort. Disgusting. “Duude…” Joe listened even closer. “… Those decorations fucking suck!” His comment was followed by a dry laugh and a giggle from his prostitute. They then continued on their way. Joe relaxed.

The old man finally walked back to the bar and slouched into one of the stools and ordered anther scotch. It was time to simply wait for this thing to be over with.

[MoiraofWords]

Some random boy asking Delilah to dance? Ha! As if he was in her league. It required more than a British accent then to get with this woman. Besides, he probably was into her current look, and if it was going to be serious at all, it wouldn't work out in the end. When she had to reveal herself. At any rate, her memory suggested that she had already tapped this boy for some emotions. It didn't seem likely that she'd get much more from him if she tried again. And then he'd get suspicious. But the lad was so polite! The conundrum!

Accepting fate, the oriental face smiled and the illusion said, "I don't know. What can you offer that's particularly different? Are you a great dancer? Like this?"

Delilah backed up a bit and started prostrating her behind into the air, backing up for all to see. Her arms were bent, meeting at her bosom and pumping outwards simultaneously. After a few moments, she transitioned into her arms hovering near her head vertically and her legs swiveling. "Can you handle this? Can you keep up boy?" In a flash, Delilah crouched down and bounced back him, thrusting her bottom backwards.

Reflexively, the femme fatale recovered and flipped her hair casually, clearing the bright bangs from her dark eyes. In the dark light, she could enhance her bosom slightly, making the illusion of it protrude further forward. Maybe she could make this worthwhile. Before, the emotion seemed to be fear. What if she could push it to love, or rather, lust? Maybe she could incite him to further supply her with the emotion so that the illusion would hold!

"So who are you, and are you ready to dance, if you can dance as well as I did that is? Because if you can't, I'll go find someone who can." Hopefully that would incite anger as well, insinuating that the boy was an incompetent. Might as well bite the bullet and hope that the emotions gained were worth the dalliance. For there was so much to be done in this world.

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