Club SadistFaction | Gone, but not forgotten baby! ~

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[Cyberweasel89]

The soft clip-clop of hooves on the pavement sounded throughout the street of Sigil's Guildhall Ward. Clip, clop. Clip, clop. The steps were slow and gentle, but not numerous enough to be a four-legged horse.

As the walking figure came into the light of a lamppost, it was clear it was Ushiko Touka. Her brown hooved feet carried her brown fur-covered shins and milky thighs down the streets of Sigil, carrying a great deal of brown bags in her arms, including a few looped along her long, whip-like tail.

Yes, Ushiko knew she didn't have to go shopping for Club SadistFaction's kitchen. She knew Cecily provided all the stocking. But sometimes the chef liked to make a little something special and didn't want her mother-figure to pay for it. She wanted to give back, considering Mr. Bishop and his fiancé were providing her with a place to stay in their own home in addition to a place to work.

Though... she couldn't help but think of Morlin. That golem expected her to betray everyone at Club SadistFaction so he could feed his own addiction. Completely destroy their lives and take everything from them so he could eat their emotionally destroyed souls...

But... she had to, didn't she? Morlin had plucked her, a lowly half-minotaur, off the streets of Labyrinth City and rescued her... He gave her a home, food, and a purpose in life...

But... Weren't Mr. Bishop and Cecily doing the same thing? They'd been so nice to her... Couldn't she just leave Morlin and stay with them? Would they forgive her lies?

No... Morlin would kill her... But more importantly, he would kill them, as well. And she owed her life to Morlin...

But... her heart was heavy with the thought of what she would eventually have to do. For now, she would try to stall Morlin as long as she could. Stay with Mr. Bishop and Cecily as long as she could and try to make them happy. Maybe... maybe a miracle would happen...

The front door to Club SadistFaction swung open, the minotaur chef entering the club with her arms and tail full of groceries.

"I'm back! Where's-"

The buxom minotaur cried in alarm at what she saw. Was... Was Mr. Bishop battling some kind of... slime of some sort?

"M-M-Mr. Bishop?! Wh-What's going on here?!" Ushiko cried, her bags of groceries falling to the floor and spilling their contents.

Location: Club SadistFaction - Just inside the entrance
Mood: Alarmed
Thinking: What?!
Wearing: Pictured

((First post on page 108! That's my lucky number! Woo!))

ImNoHero

[Etch In Stone]

Things didn't look too appealing, or in favor of the symbiote much after. When the sonic wave ripped through the air, it's sound and pressure was like a repellant.

For some odd reason, the symbiote projecting it's extended jelly limb minimized and shrunk to normal size. It shrilled a faint cry, it did not want to fight back. As the wave pushed forward, it's once polymorphous matter hardened like cement. It's soft, gooey rolling texture materialized into thick tarry stone. And then, fireworks lit the whole floor to a bright display of rainbow colors ....... the black goop faded to ashes on the ground like pixie dust. A greenish orb, the soul of the alien floated up, shooting as it revolved epi center it's hunter glowing with immense light and circled the room over patrons until it fell in the opened palm of a male sitting with orange shades furthest away from the action. It's frantic buzzing like a bee had cease and the teal haired man shut his hand closed, the greenish light fading into his palm.

Who was this, mystery man?

[ImNoHero]

Bishop's face became dumb founded as the creature shrilled and evaporated into nothing more than a color ball of light. His line of vision followed the remains of the creature all the way over to some mysterious cat at the bar. Bishop even noticed Ushiko had returned, but this guy moved in without a trace. Who was he? Perhaps it was the drugs that helped the man go unnoticed, though that wasn't an exact issue before.

"Hold on a sec Ushiko. W'got sum' words t'ave."

He was blunt and simple with her. She had been missing for a short while and he wanted to know why. But first he needed check out this new guy on the scene. Approaching the man with the cool shades, Bishop remained calm but cautious. He stopped close yet remained standing. The first question out of his mouth as the Russian Meta's face settled on somewhere around confused and mildly frustrated.

[******** was'at?"

[Etch In Stone]

"That was a very valuable specimen of mine, you just turned to dust."

In that brief moment the guy spoke, things did seem like they were about to favor the bitter good of the situation. But, strangely enough, gave no eye contact behind those tints like nobody came his way.

"By any means, I will need my monies worth and believe me, it's probably more than you got to offer."

One thing was right, the symbiote was a rare collector's ware and highly priced one if a kind specimen that only came if not, once a lifetime. And to have it killed off by this ********, pissed him off hell. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, his neck twisted so that he faced Bishop. A finger slid, tilting his shades upon a closer look of the man now table side.

"What ever you wish to pay with, suggest you do it soon, that way things don't get too much out of hand."

The guy bear a piercing gaze, natural and pure. Heart striking.

Cold azure eyes peered from beyond the tints. He looked young, early twenties, dressed casual in a burgandy wind breaker jacket and cuffed blue jeans with tennis shoes to match. Fairly clean cut, despite his arrogance and demanding attitude promising outcome if it did not go in favor. Another thing was sure, he backed it when needed if things went lop side.

[ImNoHero]

The Russian Meta was impressed and insulted all at once. This cat was straight up and not too disrespectful. However, any small amount of disrespect against Bishop was more than enough to get someone ******** up. He could respect the demand to pay what he owed, but the question was would he? The answer...No. Contrary to his appearance and demeanor, Bishop was a millionaire. He could probably buy several of the creature he just demolished, meaning that paying for one would barely hurt his deep deep pockets. But that was besides the point. Bishop awarded this b*****d a mean mug, his narrowed and blood shot hazel eyes staring at the man before him as if to burn a hole through him. His fist balled up tight as his arms hung to his sides. He didn't advance nor retreat, he stood his ground. For a change, he was actually letting someone finish their words. It had nothing to do with respect to some b***h ***** who was nobody on these streets. He was just somewhat amused and at the same time, trying not to get too angry too fast.

"I suggest ya' walk ya' dumb a** out 'dem doors befo' ya' git ya' block knocked off."

As opposed to lesser hood types, Bishop saw no reason to prove himself to anyone with words. He didn't need to tell you who he was or what he had, he half expected people to know by now simply because of his popularity as not only the leader of the infamous TRS clique, but also as a prize fighter/brawler. His fans named him Tzak The Ripper, The fact that he had a fan base period was a testament to his growing fame. Bishop would likely pay this man for his lost merchandise, but not with cash. The only true acceptable currency around here was blood. Not only was this man not literally nor metaphorically blood to Bishop, but he was also on Bishop's turf. To pay this ******** and let him walk away would look bad on him, make him look weak. As the leader of a gang, he had an image to promote, not to mention the factors of his own pride and ego.

"Ya' ain't gon' git anotha' warnin'...s**t, ya' real lucky t'git one in th'first place."

He mused with a smirk for two seconds before that mean mug re-cemented itself upon his face. Obviously this dude didn't know who the ******** he was talking too....But he gon' learn today.

[BrokenDollEyes]

Ania had watched from the bar stool more so wondering what the hell was actually going on. It seemed there was never a dull moment with in the walls of this club. Bored blue hues danced from male to male awaiting for some testosterone filled insult. Oh one could feel the tension in the air! It was thick, chokingly thick! And it deep down excited a small part of the fae. Ah male ego being insulted would always lead to a good brawl or the very least a few more insults tossed into the air.

Slowly the lady turned away from the males and focused eyes back onto a small spot on the wall. Debating on what it actually looked like. Part of her wanted to say it was a face while the other parr argued bit was an apple. Amazing to be honest that the mind can twist something till you believe that it is said object. Oh lord her lofe had become boring!

[Etch In Stone]

It was plain and simple. Giving back his monies worth would of been great! Nobody getting hurt, the fued would been no longer and the guy could have went about his merry way. But declining?! Suggesting he got his Spanish a** up and out any way .... That was out the question.

The man of principles rose, his height of 6ft taller than most, was no intimidating act but did signify he wasn' backing down neither. Hell, he wasn't even big on ego!

But, his purpose led him face to face with Bishop and with one last statment said:

"Fighting only gets people killed, I'm pretty sure you know well as I. All I want is compensation. That's it."

Actually, he was in the right and gave a ******** about who this guy waa. End of the day,nothing else mattered. The troible he went through finding tne symbiote held much more value than what Bishop had to offer. His arms relaxed as they fell to his sides, palms open, fingers pointed to the floor. his neck slightly angled up, holding his chin high. That rage inside slowly building with patience growing thin.

Either it was pay up, or get ate up.

[Lady Lotus Doll]

Location: Passing through the Entrance Hall Emotion: Carefree Wearing:
From Russia, With Love Current Status: Healthy OCC:

Now THIS, was odd.

The young night walker could have sworn on her bastardy Mother’s life that she was not at the place she should have been. In fact, the little puppet could have avowed that where she needed to be, was on a dimly lit stage, hugging a pole as if her life depended on it. Which, wasn’t hard, nor far from the truth. Life had a dastardly effect on those who lived it, often needing financially income to substance all those other things, love and what not. But the Eastern b***h found herself wondering into a hallway that looked seemingly unfamiliar. However, only time would tell the truth for that.
Black pumps hit the floor in such a demanding fashion that the beautiful puppet found herself worrying about her own stresses. Long red hair swayed across a straight back as vivid emerald eyes slanted like a predator, searching for any form of intelligent life. Unfortunately, it had been the Russian’s experience that those patrons were few and far between.
A short chuckle escaped the stringed instruments puckered, pink lips as the former thought crossed her mind. She was a whore and as a whore, stimulating conversation was not what she was paid for. Such thoughts weren’t even worth the time. Doll’s stitched face opened up, just a moment after the laugh, as if to speak, but no words fell out. Again, what was she doing here and not at work where she belonged?
Arrogant strides were taken, as the Slovak marionette found her way into a bar like area. Just what she needed; something harsh and rough, something that resembled her sex life, to get her mind off the lack of knowledge in how she found her way into the situation in the first place.
”Hello?” The Russian voice cut into the silence. Such was an Eastern trait to be loud and brash, with absolutely no thought for those around them. Swaying her hips, she found her way to a bar stool and sat her cherry-shaped a** down, crossing her legs at the ankles and placing her pale arm on the table.
”Who I need to talk to, for drink?” The Russian slurred, her accent dripping with uneasiness, as the pretty, young Doll’s eyes surveyed the room.

[ImNoHero]

This guys words seemed to route themselves in a manner to sound courteous, but now this punk had to stand up. He was a couple inches taller than Bishop. Standing tall at 5'10" and weighing about a buck 70, the Russian Meta to someone that didn't know who he was, didn't look like much of a threat at all. He was kind of skinny, with lean dense muscles. Though if one had x-ray mixed with telescopic vision, they would note that his muscles were best compared to compressed steel. This all of course just the tip of the ice berg. However, before he could reply, he heard a voice. One with a thick Russian accent. This pleased him as fellow Russians were seemingly far and few. And a chance to speak his native tongue was too irresistible. Come to think of it, this one seemed a bit familiar.

"Figure out wha'ya' think I owe ya' an' get back t'me."

He walked past the man, barely evading a shoulder bump. He remained cautious of the man as he approach the new comer woman with great interest.

Как вac зовут?" (Pronounced: Kak vos zovut)
(Translation: "What's your name?" wink

He questioned without first introducing himself. In Russian culture, this was quite rude, he didn't even say hello. But at one whom was previously street trash, he knew hood rat when he saw it. This girl had no shame in his career path and he respected that greatly. Though he would learn her a bit before he made an opinion on if she could be useful to him or not. He had to be sure not to jump the gun or be obvious about his intent. Bitches talked easier when they thought you could be interested. The two redhead Russians would begin to speak to one another. He just hoped this broad was at least classy enough to recall her native tongue.

[Lady Lotus Doll]

Location: At the Bar counter Emotion: Cautious Wearing:
From Russia, With Love Current Status: Healthy OCC:

Silence was something that was unknown, and unfamiliar to the little Eastern woman. In fact, not only did the quiet cause her to twitch, but the patrons seemed to have the same affect. The Slovak, her gait slow and actuated, in a way that she put, would show off every bit of what she had to offer. Oh yes, the one good thing about bars full of men, was that the majority of them were imprudent and unwise. Too many of them thought with the wrong head and that only meant one thing to the red-headed call girl; money.
Not that it was needed too often. The stitched marionette was very eloquently dressed and if her mouth was kept shut, no one would be the wiser. Long red hair, curled into loose spirals floated around her pale neck, stopping short at exposed shoulders. Bright green eyes, likened with dark eyeliner and a pair of pseudo eyelashes scanned the room. There were a few men, none particularly looking like a financial adversary, but she had learned young, things weren’t always, what they seemed. The short dress she wore clung to voluptuous hips in all the right places. Long legs stretched out, crossed only with large heeled flats, complete with rhinestone and shimmered under the dim bar light. Oh she was a beauty. Deep seated black scars stretched across her face, causing the red-lipsticked smile to reach out, inviting only the daring to enter a conversation. That is, or the incredibly stupid.
At the sound of a native voice, Doll’s stitched eyes shot up to the mans as a sly smirk fell across her face. Oh, another Easterner! How exciting! The puppet leaned forward against the counter, placed dainty little elbows on the table and set her heart shaped face in the cup of her hands. The man had asked her name, as if names even mattered after the money had exchanged hands. ”Anna.”
Crockshit. But anyone rude enough to break social contract didn’t deserve honesty. In fact, with the use of his articles and possessive nouns, the little toy had to wonder what part of Russia he was from. Any true native could tell you, that English and Russian never translated directly. Articles did not exist.
But as far as she was concerned, a John was a John and the money was good. Sitting back the little girl decided that unless a drink entered her hand, there was nothing else to be said.

[Etch In Stone]

Cash gave two ******** about an amount, kicking his trailer trash a** was worth paying in return for the loss of his subordinate. But then again, maybe his money stretched long as his mouth did. He'd be a trillionaire.

The idea stuck a while until it was interrupted by a woman's voice whose accent caught young blood's attention. Who's wouldn't it had? He peered beyond the turning Bishop, his tints glancing upon the red hair, then like every one else who liked a plump a** staring down to see how her hips looked. Hell, he went along with Bishop walking to the girl for his own personal reason sliding right into the conversation. He slipped between the two, slung a firm arm over her stool and leaned close, the rapper knew her type well and he was down.

For a moment staying silent until the others spoke, like any gentleman hed pay her drink.

"Drink as you please, miss lovely."

[ImNoHero]

Only once before had Bishop purchased a prostitute. Though made himself a promise. That he would never disgrace himself by paying for sex. As some what of a celebrity and a major street thug, Bishop could have almost any woman he wanted. For each that said no, there was 100 to say yes. And he didn't have to spend a penny out of his millions. However, he had interest in her, for bigger things. Her brief dishonorable answer to him was evident of her displeasure in the beginning of the conversation. However, he could also tell it was a lie. He didn't like liars, but sometimes, they were good friends to have.

"очень приятно (ochen' priyatno)..."
(Nice to meet you - in formal)

He replied as he rounded the counter. Her lack of asking earned her no name from him. Which he had no quarrels with. He was no liar, but he didn't have to tell the truth without request. Besides, if he didn't want to tell you his name, he would simply tell you to go ******** yourself. As he walked to about the center point of the alcohol library, he would light a fresh cig and inhale deep after a reassuring drag. Exhaling through his nostril, he flashed a smirk, exposing his chrome teeth with the fang tipped canines. Each fang tip on the top jaw hosting a small diamond in it. As for his accent, Bishop was from the capital of the Motherland, 'Mockвa' (Moscow). Though at a young age and for several reason, he ended up in North America, Detroit, Michigan to be exact. So he had a nice moderate Russian accent with a mild rasp, a mild deepness, and a wonderful kiss of that concrete jungle lion, A man of the streets.

"So, what flavor it is Doll? How 'bout you?"

No, he didn't know her name, he was just being himself. He often called women he didn't respect Doll, Toots, Sweet Cheeks, b***h, or Broad. That's just the kind of man he was. That How 'bout you was dished out with a certain distaste, though he was respecting the man enough to offer him drinks. He wouldn't tell him until after he was nice and drunk that this time it was on the house.

[Lady Lotus Doll]

Location: At the Bar counter Emotion: Cautious Wearing:
From Russia, With Love Current Status: Healthy OCC:

With the upmost sincerity, Doll felt cornered very fast. As a glare was given to the first man, a second one approached, wrapping his arm around the bar stool, and whispering about free drinks. Being an escort, the Solvak whore knew much better; nothing was ever free.

Instead of commenting on how bothersome it was to walk into a bar, and suddenly have a lowlife of society who couldn’t speak correct Russian breathing down her neck, she flashed her own pearly whites, only parting her red lips to speak again. ”Thank you.” Her heavily accented voice whispered to the second man, the new one who had offered her drinks, one whom seemed nice. She turned back to the nameless one, and sneered. An Escort she was, however, this man seemed to be on the bottom. He clearly didn’t understand where she stood.
”And you.” A forked tounge slithered out as slender eyebrows slanted to the street mouse. Long, flashy fingernails tapped the table impatiently as the Red head frowned in frustration. Oh yes, the looks and stares were normal. She of course, was a stitched, fleshy call girl, as gorgeous as she may have been, she was immoral, wrong.
Oh what did it matter? ”Being Russian, I assume, You make good drink. Surprise me.” The English was broken, the accent dripping off of every word, with a mix of satire and annoyance, Doll Smiled once more at both men.
No hard feelings for the street thug, and the one who was crowding her space. No, none at all. After all, for one of them, she assumed he couldn’t hide classlessness. The other, seemed harmless, just interested.
”Good night, eh? I tell from the deep conversation I interrupt, that this the place to be.” Doll didn’t care what they were speaking of. Part of growing up the way she did, hear no evil, speak no evil, especially when it follows finance. But to know that she indeed was listening…
”You two owners?” She stated, a flash of her bright emerald eyes staring at each man in his turn. Neither one of them were unfortunate looking, she supposed that helped.

[r e v e s n o i r s]

Cicily had snuck out and was running errands. She pushed her hair from her face, as she laid her head back in the taxi cab. She took a deep breath, as she felt tears build up in her eyes. She was so tired, but she knew that things were going to get better. She pushed her hair from her face as she brushed the tears away from when she saw the club come into view. She was taking a deep breath as she was trying to make sure that she was presentable and stepped out. She wore a smart dress and a pair of heels as she looked around the taxi gathered up some of the bags, and made her way inside the club. She could see people gathering at the bar, and she went back into the office, put things on the table, and then made her way into the main area. She stepped behind the bar, letting her fiance do his thing, while she went ahead and poured herself a cup of hot tea. She was losing her mind with the wedding plans, but she wanted everything to be prefect. Sadly, she had lost a lot of weight, but not the good way, and she was feeling sick, but then something was going on with her diet, she had been getting sick, and she was scared of what to tell Bishop.

[BrokenDollEyes]

Head lifted up to gaze at the blonde whom didn't have the same bounce on the step as once before. Blue hues took on a silver tone as she studied the female. Amazing honestly how one could see the thin definition of cheek bone. The skin sinking slightly and the way the dress she wore almost floatedon top of her figure.

"Aye cici yyou alright?"

Calming voice floated across the air, not much for the whole situation forming between the woman and the males. Instead focused on the well being of rhr friend she had made with in the walls. Slipping off of the stool the fae in her short frame made way over to the blonde. Amazing what heels could accomplish! Not only did they tone the legs and a** but they straightened out ones posture enough for even a short person too be tall. Then again the fae had a way of grabbing attention when needed. Maybe it was her blood? Regardless of that fact the woman came to a stop on the opposite side of the bar. Leveled gaze and friendly smile painted on.