Koi City ➟ A YAOI DYSTOPIA GANG RP (O/A)

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Have fun everyone! ~	100.0%	[ 14 ]
Total Votes:			[ 14 ]

[Little Miss Kitsune]

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✧⊱ D ҽ η ʑ ҽ ɭ xxx ✧ xxxɃ ɭ α Қ ҽ ⊰✧

A soft yawn trailed from a set of pale lips as dull steel grey eyes fluttered open. The room was dimly lit by a single table lamp that sat across the room from the bed. The gentle golden lighting gave beauty to the treasures scattered around the living small quarters. There was a very odd, and wide selection of trinkets and items displayed in this crow's nest. Some items included stuffed animals, jewelery, medical supplies, and weapons - but that was just the beginning of it! There was endless clothes and bedding, a miniature fridge, an old TV complete with DVD player and movie selections! The amount of miscellaneous items made it very difficult to know what was stashed away. However, with a mysterious fascination with delicate items that glitter and refract the light, gave means to have a very vast amount of odd items which did just that. In the soft gold light of the lamp, the room seemed to glisten in vitreous colors from the jewelery, colored class, unique bottles, etc.
Of course, with such a large 'collection' the single room was very overwhelming to the observer.
Items stacked upon each other in piles, and stuffed shelving towered against two walls. Where the small shelving unit which held the TV and DVD player were just as littered with random things, making the screen blend into the chaos. There was a storage crate which was usually full of food, but the supply was running low. Beside that food crate, was the miniature fridge in the corner which held mostly water and and other assorted drinks including alcohol. However all in all, there was a beauty to the room, that was hard to explain. It felt warm, and safe. Yes... This place was perfect, for the young bandit.
Denzel Blake, Koi City's thief was the resident of this single room and would not change that for anything in the world. His Mother, and older Sister were murdered in a hostage situation that Denzel could not stop when he was only 12. Ever since then he had been on his own, not wanting anything to do with the people of the city; they were all swine. That was when he discovered this place. He had found a section of the train tunnel had partially collapsed making the station beyond the rubble unacceptable from underground. Above ground, the stairs that go down into the isolated terminal were also crumbled and blended in to the over grown vegetation. (Since the outer edges of the city are nearly abandoned and everyone moved into the core) When Denzel ventured down to explore the forgotten train terminal, he trailed along the unusable tracks until he reached the official end of the tunnel. That was where he found the maintenance room which was unlocked.
Stepping inside he found a dead man, and his belongings - it turned out this was used a shelter from the war and the man never left until his death. The room had been customized to suit the man's needs years ago with an added on functioning bathroom to the side. It was small, and basic but that was all he needed (corner shower, sink, and toilet). The rest is history, Denzel stole this dead man's shelter... it was perfect!
Putting the old man to rest, and clearing out the old junk, Denzel started his new life alone.
Over the years, his collection grew as well as his compulsiveness to take more. The items he took gave him happiness to fill up the empty feeling he had from having no family left on the island, but it never lasted for long. The vicious cycle of thieving consumed him to keep himself happy, even if it was only for a night - what did he care?
Koi City was disgraceful... Even the government abandoned it! There is no way to leave, because no one comes here, they were all trapped on this city! Even if he had family on the mainland or another city, he would have no idea, and never will.

Blinking a couple more times, Denzel pushed the raven black bangs from his pale face. He hated reflecting on his past... Why he was here, what he did to get here, what happened to his family... It usually turned his mood sour.
The slender frame sat up on his messy blanket-nest of a bed. Stuffed animals shifting and a couple falling from their glorious heap on the mattress. Glancing over to his nightstand, he smiled at his fox mask sitting there waiting for him patiently.
Lifting his arms he stretched out as long as he could before climbing out of bed in nothing but a lose pair of PJ pants. Sauntering over to the small heater, he flicked it off while working on brushing his hair through with his fingers. The lazy comb work didn't really help his bed head, but he hardly cared. With another lazy motion he stooped down to select a tight pair of black denim jeans with a few tatters and ware on the thighs. Second was a graphic T-Shirt, and thick black sweater. Despite it being winter, Denzel didn't own a winter coat, and he didn't plan on it. It was far to hard to perform his acrobatic ways of traveling with such a bulky article of clothing. Putting on a pair of socks and jamming his feet into his belted black boots, he was dressed for the night. Going over to grab his back-pack which was always prepared with a few bandages, map, marker, notepad, knife, and flashlight. Those essentials were always there, and anything else he managed to get while he was out filled the rest of the space.
Slipping the bag onto his back, he jostled it around slightly to make himself comfortable. Snatching the key to his home from the nightstand along with his mask he left his safe abode, and locked the behind him and placed the key into his pocket.

Traveling out to the city, Denzel never bothered with his mask until he got closer to where he knew people would more likely to be. First was the amusement park, his favorite place to stay and explore - but he didn't have time for that right now. He had to rustle up something hot for dinner, his food crate was nearly empty! Timid gray eyes peered around him before slipping his mask into place, and he continued with caution as he began to go through the fairground as a shortcut to downtown.
His heart was pounding like crazy... it was the rush of adrenaline that had got him addicted to stealing to begin with, however with a new found threat the rush was less enjoyable and more fearful than anything.
There had been encounters with another masked individual in the city that he was not very fond of. When that masked man was around, it seemed like he got in the fox's way no matter what.
At first it was horrifying, but now it is just frustrating! Once he imposed so severely Denzel lost grips on his stolen goods and had to leave them behind! This has been happening for a month or so, and it is hard to determine if the man means to kill him, or if he is just ******** with him. Either way, it got on Denzel's nerves... Part of his competitive side thought it was slightly amusing, because in a way it was like a game. The man hadn't been able to catch him yet, which gave Denzel the confidence to keep allowing these heated chases (more like hunts) to continue. Once or twice, the fox even taunted the other - knowing that the young man wouldn't be able to catch him.
An annoyed groan rumbled from behind his mask quietly as he came into the streets of the city. He hoped nothing like that happened tonight though, it was cold and wet... Two of his least favorite combinations. All he needed was to get some food for now.
Adjusting his bag once more, he began to run. Building up the momentum he needed, Denzel charged into an alley way. Leaping onto a dumpster, he immediately sprung up to grab a window ledge and hoisted himself up with ease. He the turned and leaped in the same fashion to the parallel wall. Barely grabbing the ledge of the second floor window, he hoisted himself up once again. Denzel continuing the process until he reached the roof top. Walking along the roof, he shivered at the winter winds that cut into him. There wasn't much snow, but this really gave Denzel a set back with safely traveling above the streets because of how slippery things were. It'd be best to take it slow, and easy tonight, the last thing he needs is to slip and fall.
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ℒocation↪ Koi City Roof Tops
ℱeeling↪ Cautious, Cold, and Hungry
ωith↪ Nobody
OOC↪ Sorry, I know it says no novel posts, I promise this is the longest one I will have! I swear x.x

[Nightingale Effect]

There's a look in the faces tonight that's untrustable as...


XBlack Bird X
Guillermo Torolf Poviyemo


... the hope that you'll never return in a while

Stars sparkled like diamonds over head in the deep endless sky. It seemed to swallow him up, like a murky ocean lapping at the edge of his consciousness. It was unsettling, how small he felt, but he revelled in the comfort of knowing he was not so alone and that his little problems did not matter so much in the end. He was usually too caught up in trying to get through day to day life to really feel sad and any emotion stronger then that was often pushed on to his alternative personality, Black Bird. But still; whenever he had a free moment to let his mind wander fragments of memories would pull at his mind and he would feel the tendrils of an emotion he barely understood began to creep in. In moments like this.

He loved it up here, on the roof of his worn down apartment building, it was peaceful and removed. At night the stars would glitter like fairies casting a spell to freeze time in the city so much in need of their magic and in the day he would put out food scraps and watch as all sorts of birds came to see what he had. He'd often eat breakfast with them, it brought him a joy that would warm his heart all day; his tiny little family, happy when they were all together, something no one else in this city would probably ever know.

He'd then go over the notes from the day before to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He summed up current events in his journal every night and wrote frequent notes during the day as memory lapses could happen at any time. Tonight's notes read;

Barter for candles.

All seems reasonably quiet with the Exterminators. Maybe too quiet? Planing something? Keep an eye on the tactician; he's been playing some kind of game with a loner but might be more. Haven't heard from Leader for awhile. Maybe pay a visit?
Only two crows today. Storm soon?
Something weird is going on in the amusement park. Haunted? Avoid.
Does something smell in the building?

Sad?

Does something smell?

The rest of his day was often spent wandering the city, doing whatever tasks were on his list or just checking up on people. Lately his days had been boring and mindless but that wasn't always a bad thing.

He took a breath and choked slightly on the sharp air; winter was settling in and frost bit at whatever part of him wasn’t bundled up in blankets. This was the season that was hardest on the city; where ever the frost dug in death and violence would bloom. You had to be sure to keep warm this time of year or the Reaper would surely be knocking on your door. It was easy for G, his job with the Redeemers provided him with at least that much. Not to mention when ever he really needed something it always seemed to find its way into his apartment.

He chalked it up to poorly kept notes in his journal, even though he knew his records were excellent, even though he knew some of those items could not have been obtained peacefully. But Black Bird allowed him to glaze over all kinds of things like that. Violent discussing things that were swept under the rug, selectively ignored or over written as a pleasant fantasy that G's delicate mind could handle.

Like the fact that a robber had broken into his place a couple months ago or that his body was strung up outside G's door to ward off intruders. Sure the smell had shocked him out of his pleasant fantasy a few times and still bothered him a little but eventually it was mostly over written in his mind as something normal and not the rotting corps it actually was. Now he could just walk past it as though it wasn't even there, because in his mind, it wasn’t.

His candle was growing short now and he shifted, cold limbs protesting. He liked the light of the starts and moon but even though it wasn’t much warmer inside he knew he shouldn't fall asleep outside. He was not yet fully aware of Black Bird but he could feel him lapping at the edges of his consciousness as a slightly sick feeling, and the darkness beckoned him.

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Please don't worry lover, there's a lack of color here.

X Album: Transatlanticism
X Mood: Peaceful
X Persona: G.
X With: No one
X Thoughts: It's cold but the stars are nice.
X Ooc: N/A

You're always on time, so...

[XD RAINBOWS]

tab tab tab ❛ l є t///u s///d α n c є///í n///t h í s///n є v єr - є n d í n g///d r є α m ❞ ▬▬▬▬▬▬

Step... Step... Step...

Reverberating footsteps of a single person could be heard in the absolute silence. It was a fairly chilly day, with the light breeze biting into the exposed skin on his face. It wouldn't have been a lie for the male to say that he absolutely despised cold weather. Not to mention the rain - if it could even be called that - didn't help either. He loved the rain, but if it was going to rain... 'At least make it a downpour. Can't even do that for me, can you weather? Hah, I knew you always hated me...~' It was childish of him to think in such a way, though he knew that whatever complaints and feelings wouldn't be heard by anyone, let alone by the weather which has been constantly sporadic ever since the war hit.

White puffs formed in front of him whenever he exhaled, though the male was too focused on something else at the moment to pay attention to the cold and depressing atmosphere. Walking down the desolate streets of Koi City was Kura Ryuuya, who was toying around with his cellphone in his hand. Originally his phone should have been dead, but he found a nice little spot in an abandoned convenience store he was able to charge it.

He knew of the ridiculous chaos that ran rampant throughout the city that used to once be his sweet home. All of the senseless gangs and violence and whatnot... It was so utterly stupid. Since it was practically impossible to tell who was a normal citizen and who was a gang member, he had been trying to avoid as many people as he could for the most part, and especially anyone who he deemed dangerous. It worked out nicely enough and at least managed to survive up until now. He wouldn't allow himself to die... Not yet. There was still something he had to do. In the end, only one thing mattered to the blonde. "Hnn, guess it's no good still..." He mumbled to himself, his eyes glued directly on his phone which seemed to be having no reception at the moment. While it didn't seem like he was paying much attention to his surroundings, he was actually on his guard, listening closely to any sudden movements and remained on the alert.

'Come to think of it, wasn't I already here?' Glancing up for a moment, Kura took in his surroundings. This was the city he had grown up in his entire life, so while he was still rather familiar with most of the locations, many of the once structured buildings were now dilapidated and completely wrecked, making it more difficult for him to discern his current location. Still, he was pretty sure he knew where he was, and knew enough to know that he ended up walking in a giant circle. Holding back a groan, he simply tilted his head upwards to stare at the darkened sky. If there was one thing good about the entire city falling into ruins, it had to be the crystal clear stars in the beautiful winter sky. He wasn't able to see them so clearly when the city was still fully functioning, and at times it was his only comfort in the otherwise hellhole. For a moment he had contemplated climbing up to a higher elevation so he could get a better view - There was just something about dangerously high locations that made a thrilling chill of excitement run throughout his entire body. One wrong move and he could end up as a bloody stain on the ground... Who in their right mind wouldn't think of that as fun?

Ah, but that would unfortunately have to wait. He had more important things to think about. Staring ahead of him again, he let out a sigh. "Where the hell can you be, you idiot..." Looking for his 'older brother' was proving to be fruitless. Day in and day out, no answers were found. Even now, he had been searching for what seemed like hours, and still nothing. 'I know you're not dead... There's no way you're that weak...' Kura thought to himself. All the other times, he had his search during the day, but night time may actually prove to be more effective. Sure it was more dangerous, but for one, getting away without being seen would be far easier, and for another, he hadn't ever done a search at night before, so hopefully it might bring up new results. Usually his nights would be occupied at the amusement park.

But that still wasn't anything worth thinking about. Glancing back down to the device in his hands, Kura resumed his steps, this time he was completely absorbed in his cellphone. "C'mon, why won't you work? At least let this one call go through, you annoying phone... Or I'm gonna toss you against a wall..." He grumbled out loud. "....Or at a baby." Well, that part was a joke, but still. Talk about annoying.
"Text.

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★ Location: Walking around on the streets
★ Company: Alone
★ Mood: Annoyed ...Fine, fine~
★ Thoughts: 'I'm three seconds away from breaking this phone...'
★ Love: "Pffftheheh, I've got bigger things to worry about~"

[Feemiss]

▬▬▬▬ ♠ ▬▬▬▬

ℛ ℴ ѣ ɩ ȵ

†

Ѳ ȡ ȡ s ℴ ȵ

▬▬▬▬ ♠ ▬▬▬▬

Flickering. On. Off. On. Off. The weathered wiring kept the equally weathered alleyway light on epilepsy mode, static jolts of life heard with each illuminating flash. It painted the scene in a truly unnecessary light; One of creepiness atop the horrific scene down below. A trio of bodies lie motionless, blood of various types slowly meeting in a pool of crimson. Two guns lay beside the male corpses, smoke billowing from hot barrels. Half emptied magazines were the cause of the third corpse, a feminine form adorned in a sex-me mini dress and equally fierce heels though both had been abandoned in the street, bloody footprints and droplets leading any curious enough toward the murder scene. Sobs emanated from the seated figure nearest the female, his posture a seated one, a revolver gripping arm resting upon a knee whilst the other hand covered an expression of absolute misery. He would sneak looks at the corpse, her form the only he could see. The flickering light seemingly surrounding her form with each jolt, a halo of light that wouldn't cease its taunting. Be it a trick of the light or his psychosis snapping, purple-hued eyes caught slight movements in the affirmed corpse. First a finger, then a hand. An arm. A shoulder. Finally the neck and head. A face once vibrant with life and reaffirming hope now glowered like death itself. Eyes of sparkling emerald were drained of color, a trail of dark red falling from messy tresses to cut the unnatural expression in two. The man could only sit and stare, revolver loosened to press gloved palms to his disbelieving eyes. "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" He would repeat over and over, guilt and anguish evident in his hoarse voice as tears stained the leather material of his gloves. No matter his plea the corpse continued to move, disjointed and fractured emotes due to the instant light followed by instant darkness. Soon a grip as strong as death itself found his wrists, eyes snapping open wide as those arms were pulled down with force. Face-to-face was Robin to the victim, her expression eerily neutral though her dark eyes leaked tears and damnation. All he could do was shriek and shut both purple eyes, those orbs soon snapping open once more to reveal, once more, it was nothing but a nightmare . . . a very familiar nightmare.

The cool chill did nothing to ease Robin's mind of the cold sweats tracing his porcelain skin though he knew what would. He sat naked and alone, the scratch of match upon resin brightening his face in a soft glow as he lit the joint clamped between two full lips. He pulled and puffed whilst shaking the flame out, discarding the spent match in whatever direction before he sat back and allowed Mary to do her thing. Frightening memories dissolved with the coming bliss, his tense nerves and form easing despite the realization this was the last of his stash. [********] It was all he'd allow that fact to bother him, cherry brightening with his next pull.

Fifteen minutes of recreation and preparation later . . . Robin stepped from his friendly confines and into the openness of the Redeemers' hideout. The "abandoned" building appeared more so its title at the moment, Robin merely glancing to and fro as booted heeled echoed off the walls. His lean form was cozy within a long-sleeve black shirt, his trademark leather coat kept buttoned halfway, revealing the ornate necklace and silver cross, matching the one that hung from his left ear. Matilda fit snug in her holster, worn out loud and proud about his hip-hugging navy jeans. He wouldn't be caught anywhere without her though he hardly needed her services, his scarred knuckles flexing about the handle of a fridge as Robin raided its confines.

Satisfaction would have to be found in the canned spam and pinto beans, expiration dates entirely ignored as Robin kicked his feet up and dug in with no mercy.

Location: Redeemer HQ
Company: Barren
Mood: I have the munchies . . .
Out of Character: Long posts be the norm for intros! And, oh, bland layout is bland. xDDD
Relevance:

NAME HERE

From the floating death, to the fire of death, To a flower outside my grave, An old man, Were you just being polite with your hands? And it really means I'm number one, and you're a fan . . . Well that's cool, 'cause I think you're number one too

[dis awkward silence]

Donovan could nearly smell the fear oozing off the man, causing him to briefly wonder what fear would even smell like. Hopefully it didn’t smell like the cold sweat trickling down the hapless man’s jawline. Then again, the sharp smell was probably, most definitely due to the rust and dried blood that caked much of the cement floor, not to mention the open drain right beneath the chair. Despite the dirty floor, Donovan chose to slowly, quietly pace around the man in his bare feet, even choosing to forego the shirt and wear only sweats. It was going to get dirty anyway. He cupped his fist in the palm of his other hand, slowly and leisurely cracking each knuckle, moving onto the other hand once he finished.

It was a bit cool in the room, almost enough to give Don goosebumps. He ran a hand over his arm, feeling the warmth of his hand against his skin. His fingers brushed over a lengthy scar on his forearm, triggering an unpleasant memory that reminded him of why he was here. He balled his fist and flexed, feeling the muscles in his arm tighten and contract, digging his nails into his palm. Despite the bitterness and growing anger, his face remained impassive, solid as stone, but a fire raged in his eyes. He took a breath, silent and deep, his taut chest rising with the inflation of air, falling with the exhalation of it. He couldn’t lose his patience, not just yet – there was still a final lesson to be taught.

He stopped pacing, his back facing the man strapped to the metal chair. Donovan laced his fingers together and stretched his arms upward above his head, making sure to feel every stretch and contraction in his arms, shoulders, and back. He looked almost chiseled, statuesque, whatever artsy people would call it nowadays. But he wasn’t showing off or posing. It was intimidation, to show just how much power his body possessed, just how much damage it could do. Donovan tilted his head to the side, feeling the tension as he did so, until he heard and felt the crack. He was taking his sweet time, keeping his captive on his toes and wondering when it would all end – or more importantly, begin.

After a few minutes of pure silence, Donovan turned and faced him with eyes cold and piercing, the man flinching in response to the sudden movement. “I know why you’re here, but do you?” The man didn’t reply, keeping his eyes focused on the dirty floor. “Masato, I asked you a question,” Don said, tapping a finger on his leg, It’s only polite to answer, even if it’s half-assed.” The continued silence irritated him; he’d just have to force an answer then. He thrust his hand out, grabbing a handful of the man’s damp hair and pulling it back quick and hard, almost giving Masato a whiplash. Donovan leaned in, seeing the strain, fear, and pain etched into that ghost-white face. “I’ll tell you then, since it looks like you don’t know. You’re here for a little lesson that you apparently forgot.” He released his grasp on the man’s hair and trailed his fingers across the armrest of the chair, eventually making it to the duct tape that bound Masato’s wrists down.

“I’m no Italian, but the mafia over there have a thing called Omertà. It’s a.. family code, you could say. Basically, you don’t snitch, and you don’t get in the way of other people. But if you break that code, you die.” He quietly explained, getting down on his knee. He pulled Masato’s hand up against his wrist, just far enough for him to feel the strain. “So what does this have to do with anything? You got in my way. You’ve been hanging around some Redeemers, telling them things here and there, I’m guessing. Hm?” Donovan watched the man’s face, looking for any twitch, any tell-tale sign.

Masato’s jaw tensed, and he swallowed. Yet for whatever reason, he was still silent - but not for long, if Cyrus didn't do anything.

Donovan looked up, not at the man in front of him but at another, who had been rather quiet during the whole ordeal. He narrowed his eyes, just slightly, at his "brother," giving him a look that basically said to not interfere. Donovan knew him; Cyrus didn't approve of these things, and he'd normally avoid these situations. Yet he was here, watching from the shadows, and even though Donovan said to not butt in, his friend would probably do it anyway. Fine then.

He rolled his eyes, not exactly appreciating the look he was getting from Cyrus, and turned his attention back to the present problem. “Well, I’m not gonna ask what you told them. That’s not what we’re here for, right? We’re just here.. to teach you a few things,” Donovan said, his voice calm but layered with ice. Without missing a beat, his other hand reached for a finger – and pulled. There was that sickening yet oh-so-satisfying crack, followed by a horrified and gut-wrenching scream. It wasn’t the most pleasant music, but it would just have to do.

“That was lesson one. Nine more to go before your final exam, you rat.”


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Eventually, Donovan had enough of it all. His Berserkers were more suited for these kinds of things, but he needed to get it out of his system. The high was always nice, but it sometimes left a bitter taste in his mouth - or maybe it was because of the nauseating smell of the room. All it had taken was a clean, deep cut to the throat, letting the traitor either choke on his own blood or have the life ooze out of him. Or at least, that had been the plan. Cyrus had, as expected, finally stepped in and ended the man's suffering, much to Don's displeasure; he wanted to see which end Masato would take.

Sitting on the grimy floor, Donovan just silently watched the blood flow down into the drain, continuing to stay on the floor long after the man had been shot dead. He felt a bit out of it, not that the feeling was really new. It wouldn't be accurate to say he was tired, and to claim that it was guilt would be way out of the ballpark. Maybe he was disappointed that out of all the reasons to kill someone, it was because of treachery. Masato was almost there, so close to getting that rank, and he disappointed Donovan by going behind his back. The more traitors he found, the harder he found it to maintain whatever trust he had in his members, even his closer ones.

Rubbing his fingers together, he felt something sticky on his hands. Another problem with the whole thing was that he always found himself physically disgusting; the room was made for these sorts of things, after all, and was not something one would call clean, which was why he usually opted to wear old clothes in there. Donovan was in desperate need of a shower. Not only would it do his body some good, it would probably help with his psyche. Some dinner would be nice too. He sighed, looking forward to a hot shower and a nice meal. "Cyrus, help me up here," he said, though it was more of a request than a demand. Looking up at the offered hand, Donovan took it with a firm grasp - with the gross, sticky hand - and pulled himself up onto his feet. He was quiet, and just stared at Cyrus, before slowly raising his hand. He cracked a smirk, using his other hand to grab a hold of Cyrus' wrist as he drew himself closer to him, determined to get his disgusting hand on his friend's face.


⋮ＬＯＣＡＴＩＯＮ⋮ Warehousexx⋮ＭＯＯＤ⋮ tired? playful, deviousxx⋮ＣＯＭＰＡＮＹ⋮ Cyrus



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⊰oh oh cee;; nerd ⊱

[phannyyy]

How long have they been going on with this? Pulling his right hand out of his pocket, he glanced down at his watch. Surely, it had been long over an hour. With a sigh of frustration, he clicked his polished shoes on the cement underneath him. Despite Donovan’s casual attire, or what was left of it, Cyrus was dressed in a sophisticated manner – with a white button up blouse and some dress pants that hugged his slender frame. The first top buttons of his shirt were undone, giving a teasing peek of his toned chest; his sleeves were rolled up just below his elbows. His long chocolate hair was tied back to keep it out of the way.

Currently he was lurking in the shadows of the bloodied scene. Cyrus had tried many times to understand the trill someone got out of torture, but he still did not understand it. It was messy, smelly, and a revolting experience all together. His gaze dropped down to Donovan’s bare feet and he felt the sudden need to hurl. How was that not bothering the raven? Uncomfortably, he brought his hand to the back of his neck, underneath his dreadlocks, and let out a dramatic sigh. Don was obviously going on a power splurge and he would not stop until his thirst was quenched.

With the other’s back turned to him, his eyes trailed. He could not help it. Cyrus appreciated beauty, and the sight of the other’s well defined back was beauty indeed. Donovan was a man of brute strength. Honestly, he would have been intimidated if he had not known what lay underneath all that muscle. He knew the real Donovan. “Donovan,” he called in scolding. His accent was heavy and thick, his roots obviously from some exotic lands far from here. Cyrus did not feel the need to speak anymore. He had hoped that was enough to stop the man’s malice. At this point, Cyrus pitied the bloodied man. Masato was one of them and he deserved a faith less cruel than this.

For the first time since they had come into this room, Donovan’s eyes rested on him. Cyrus was standing straight, hands in pockets, expressionless. As the other narrowed his eyes at him, he gave a look of question as if asking, ‘what?’ Ah. He knew that look. Still, that look never stopped him. If it had, what kind of second-in-command would he have been? Normally he would avoid situations like this all together, but he often found himself with the instinctive need to watch over Donovan. Even if it was not to protect him, he would simply to be there, just in case Donovan was to need him. He returned the other’s glare with a reprimanding look of his own.

The younger male wasted no more time before finally getting down to business, as he began to break man’s finger one by one. The room was filled with bloodcurdling screaming and Cyrus found himself shifting uncomfortably in his spot. He had ended up looking away at halfway into the ordeal, growing impatient. Hand abandoning the hiding of his pockets, he reached into his jacked and pulled out his 9mm. He made no move with it, instead, simply fingering it as he watched the other continue his sick game. Cyrus still did not understand why Donovan could not leave these to the Berserkers. What did one really gain from this kind of torture?

It was not until the other mercilessly sliced Masato’s throat that Cyrus finally moved. His long legs carried him across the room rather quickly. During his strides, he reached back and pulled out his silencer, attaching it to his pistol’s lips. Even though there was nobody to hide from, the sound of a revolver without a silencer really irritated him, and like many things that had to do with this gang, it was unnecessary.

Cocking the 9mm, he held the barrel to the man’s head before his gloved finger pulled on the trigger and he finally ended the man’s suffering. It was long overdue.

Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket, he cleaned the silencer of the man’s blood before his tucking his accessories away. Walking around the blood, which seemed almost impossible, he moved to hover over the other. It was almost like Cyrus was looking down at the other, seeing him covered in blood. The smell was overwhelming and so was the sight. Cyrus coughed, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth as he ever so slightly gagged. He needed to get out of this room.

“You should have asked him what he had told the Redeemers,” he sounded disappointed. When the other asked for his assistance, his chest rose as he took a lengthy breath before emptying his lungs. Bringing his hands together, he grasped onto the material of the glove before slipping it off his left hand first, before freeing his right hand as well and putting the gloves in his back pocket. Reaching out, he offered his hand to be taken, but he failed to notice the soiled digits. Before he could pull away, the stickiness was already coating his own fingers. A low groan slipped past his lips as he took a set back and helped the other up on his feet. Suddenly, the man had now grabbed his wrist and was getting in his personal space. Cyrus’s patient was dwindling. “Donovan,” he tilted his face to the side to dodge man’s advances. With his free hand, he grabbed onto the man’s forearm in a vice grip, despite his smooth motion. “Do not touch me,” he was obviously annoyed with the conditions the hands that were touching him were in, because usually Cyrus’s reaction would not be so intense.

Pulling his hand free, he released Donovan now and turned away to leave the bloodied room. He cautiously maneuvered through his jacket and pulled out his handkerchief, wiping his hands clean. “What are you going to do with his body?” he asked casually as he opened the door and stepped out, not bothering to hold it open for the other. “I think you overreacted, Don. Masato’s loyalty to us had never wavered, so why now?” He stopped walking, allowing the other to catch up to him. “If you are going to eliminate every person who has an affiliation with the Redeemers, I should start looking over my shoulder more often.” Cyrus’s connection with the Redeemers was no secret. He was on neutral grounds with the Redeemers. Friends in high places, right? Unless someone directly threatened him of his people, he really had no need to bicker with them. They were all trying to survive in this shithole that used to be Japan. Exterminators were just going to end up being at the top.

“Speacking of Omertà,” he now looked Donovan in the eyes, “who snitched on him?” He was actually curious to know who would throw down a fellow brother and if it was a personal vendetta or not.

[Biumu]

♛ ₮heodore ₳ngevine ӾV ♛


it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie


✄ Donny, Donny, Donny. Sometimes the red head thought that the man who so frequently took his body was an idiot. Of course he wasn’t going to say anything about that because the size difference between them alone meant he didn’t stand a chance but… maybe with his sword he would find it easier. It was a hard call. It was quite apparent to them both that the raven head was a part of the Exterminators, what position he was, Theo didn’t know. To Donovan, Theo had dropped some hints that he worked with the Redeemers but just like Donovan, he didn’t go into details. Amazingly, with these two differences the two strangely got along and so when Theo mentioned that he had information to sell, Donovan accepted it.

Only an idiot would sell information for cheap so by the end of the exchange, which was all done in French for the sake of security, he got a good bundle of money, enough so that Ariel wouldn’t have to work for at least two weeks.

This all happened about two days ago. When Masato went missing, he knew exactly what was going to happen to him. It gave him a sick pleasure to chew out the guy. Masato was an annoying a** that thought he could make friends with the Redeemers. Well tough luck. If Theo could make money off of you then you best back your a** out of his territory.

Some would say Theo wasn’t a true redeemer and you know what? They were absolutely right. Many thought they were his friends but in truth no one was his friend. Strangely enough though, he did have some sort of loyalty to the Redeemers, which even he found confusing. Ah well. Tonight’s entertainment would be poor Masato. He wondered what would happen to the poor sob. Probably wasn’t going to be good.

Theo was waiting in the general area that Donovan would pass by. When he saw the man he discreetly followed him until they arrived at a warehouse just outside of the city. Ugh. What a creepy a** place to go. Donovan could at least have had more taste and gone to some chateau or… wait. Those aren’t in Japan. Stupid Japan, step up your refinement game.

The spy climbed up onto the roof of the warehouse, it was cold and wet but that kind of weather never bothered him. Growing up in England, he had built a resistance. Not making a sound, he moved over the roof and found an opening he chose to climb in. He stepped onto one of the many old wooden beams across the ceiling. After finding his spot and crouching, he looked down. His eyes captured a familiar fatso and his dear Donny. There was another one with dreads but Theo didn’t know him. He raised an eyebrow, seeing Donovan take off his shirt and begin to… was he flexing? Theo put a hand to his mouth to try and stifle his snicker.

¬He listened to the big talk, wondering what Donovan might do to him after this since he was talking about Omertà. Did that mean he would have to die? Nah, he was pretty good at getting out of sticky situations. He watched, getting a kick out of how threatening this scene must have looked to Masato. Would he talk? Ooooh the suspense! He should have brought popcorn. Finally the big show started. Screams filled the warehouse, Theo didn’t even flinch, and instead he was getting weird ideas for the next time Donovan requested his presence.

The show continued on with Donny baby pulling out a knife and slitting poor Masato’s throat. Aww, listen to him gargle. He almost wanted to pat his baby on the head, telling him what a good job he did. He watched as Donovan stepped down and dreadlock man who was- oh s**t he’s super hot. Theo licked his lips, excited to see what would happen next. Instead he was disappointed by a clean shot to the head with not as much blood as he would have liked. Oh well. Not wanting to stick around anymore he crawled back out the roof, and just as discreetly he climbed up he climbed down and began to make his way back into the main city. With a skip in his step he giggled mischievously and pulled out his black flip phone, due to the war and his own lack of income it was the best he could do for technology. He looked through his contacts, pulling up Donny Baby. [[Hey baby, did you know that blood brings out the colour in your eyes? Hit me up soon~! <3]] Send. Maybe he should play this danger game more often.




the moment to live and the moment to die



Location: Warehouse > City Company: Cyrus & Donovan > Alone Emotions: Mischievous

[And The Sun Shines]

The can rattled, paint was sprayed, and a sigh was heard as the now empty can of paint rolled onto the ground. There it was again, that rat pouring toxic green liquid onto the ground. The color spilled onto the floor, which Kou admired before reaching for his materials. The boy pulled out a roll of tape, a piece of cloth, and an old basketball trophy. Those things didn't have a use and were often abandoned by mothers trying desperately to get their kids out of the house. This particular hit of his kept his around. He didn't care too much as to why, he just knew this was the object that would rattle him. Of course the kid had known it was missing; Kou having it laying in the paint was going to break the poor guy. That wasn't it, of course. Ripping a piece of tape, Kou pressed it onto the dried black 'X' and placed a cut out square of his target's sister's dress.

The raven haired boy pursed his lips as he stepped away, casually kicking the can into the distance with a frown. He knew he could handle the kid, but that was just the problem. It was a kid. Poor guy couldn't have been over the age of 8, but he'd seen some things that he simply couldn't afford to leave in the air. Any information about him that made it to the Redeemers was bad news. He couldn't risk it. Pulling his hood over his head, the boy slinked into the shadows and rested on the soles of his feet. A quick message to his boss was in order.

tab tab tab [ Boss ] I'll be preoccupied indefinitely.
tab tab tab Do not require my assistance.
tab tab tab If I try to call you, I need back up. I will not answer.
tab tab tab You will send Nik.

It was the case that the Tactician was more comfortable with the Assassin than the Berserkers. It was mostly the factor of intelligence; he could rely on his teal haired friend to do things without being told. Exo and Red were... not on the list of desirable companions in battle. They knew how to break people, which was a great quality on it's own, but not helpful if Kou was to miscalculate what was going on. Nik was also more likely to find him, which was the selling point there.

As he sat in the darkness, he checked his phone to note the time before inching a little closer to the mural. Just a minute later, his target passed. Right on time. The pitter of footsteps stopped, and Kou watched those tattered sneakers freeze before the small noise of shock was made. "It suits you." Rats were always the animal he used, but it was fitting for the child, sneaking around in places he shouldn't be. Kou was always so cautious to reveal so little. He rarely spoke outside of bartering with loners and never revealed any information. This thing, though, had been crawling around upstairs while he made a deal with a loner for some information. It was seemingly useless, but he really couldn't risk this stupid kid opening his mouth.

He knew he was justifying himself. Pulling his bat out of the bag with a soft sigh, Kou narrowed his eyes. "You will run. I know you will." It wasn't out of the ordinary for this to happen. Oftentimes he would wait, determine his target's plan of action and cut them off in a corner. This just.. couldn't wait. He couldn't put this off. The child said something, but Kou just tilted his head and took a step closer. No more words were exchanged; the boy ran and Kou took off in a sprint after him. He was - unfortunately - counting on nobody interfering. He could outrun the boy, but he couldn't outfight the boy and somebody else. It was a tough gamble to make, but he was rushed.

thoughts :: i've got 2 minutes to kill him.
location :: just a few blocks down from the beach
company :: a young boy
feeling :: calm
listening to :: hope of morning
OOC :: im literally trying to walk out the door and get to class so sorry if there are any errors or w/e ^^; ill get a real posting style up soon just yeh gotta run



""
``
tab tab tab [ theirname ]
tab tab tab

[Tsun Cake]

ღXXNɪᴋᴏʟᴀɪ Kɪᴇʟʙᴇʀɢ

Tʜᴇ Fᴀᴄᴇʟᴇss a**ᴀssɪɴ
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Inside an abandoned building, the teal-haired Exterminator was busied with a small little 'project' that popped up over the last half hour he patrolled his gang's territory. There were a handful of men, ragged and disoriented, that were tied to chairs. The assassin even remembered to put a gag in their rather 'chatty' mouths, rather than be distracted by their noise and the utter nonsense that they most likely wanted to say. These men were wandering around in the wrong neighborhood, recruiting for their piss poor excuse of a new gang. Not the Redeemers. Just a small group of scum.

Nikolai, the masked assassin, cranked on the gas. "You shouldn't have come here~" He chimed, his tone as dark as the room they were in. Nothing but streetlight illuminated the place in a soft, dim brilliance, only hinting at how run down and dirty this building was. "Now your winter is just going to be that much more... Heated." Of course anyone with a brain could guess what the tall, completely covered male was plotting. Instead of toying with their bodies, they would be exploded and charred to death in this miserable trap of a place. They were too unworthy for his blade...

The assassin picked up a medium sized black sack that was heavy with various items. Food, belongings of the wannabe gang members, weapons. Nik was ready to leave, now that everything was prepared for a blazing inferno. "Adjö, små råttor~" The masked man waved goodbye before slipping out of the window with his sack of goodies. Then he took out a wooden match from his pocket, striking it on the brick of the building, staring at it for a brief moment with interest. Oh his heart pounded with excitement. How big will the 'boom' be? He would soon find out.

Nik tossed the lit match in the window, which caused an explosion to erupt in the room, shattering the windows. The muffled screams mixed with the raging flames sounded like sweet music to him. He casually strolled away from the minor chaos, in search for another 'project' to work on. 'I wonder if my little mouse is out...' The thought rolled through his mind.

The little thief, another masked male that inhabited Koi City. Nikolai couldn't help but take a slight interest in him since he was well adept in giving him the slip. It was all out of fun. It kept him on his toes for the most part, though the game of cat and mouse may be due for a conclusion. Perhaps tonight was the night the assassin would actually become serious with this game and finally catch him? If nothing else was going on, he might as well attempt to catch him. After all this little game had gone on long enough, hasn't it? In any case Nik was ready for anyone or anything that wanted to pop up... Well mostly.

The man merely enjoyed the little stroll down the streets, feeling the soothing chill of the winter seep through the multiple layers of clothing he was currently wearing. With the pitch black mesh that covered his, unsurprisingly, pale flesh, the undershirt beneath the cheap black suit attire, it was just enough to stave off anything bitter. It was a time for peace rather than hunting for anything exciting. Might as well enjoy the silence while it was still there...

[Ooc; Yus! Sleepy, but still got something down~
Swedish translation: "Goodbye, little rats~"]

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❧Wʜᴇʀᴇ :: Out in the City ❧Wɪᴛʜ :: No one❧Aᴄᴛɪᴏɴ :: Taking care of things > Walking around

XXXXXXXXXXXXX✗Hᴇᴀʟᴛʜ :: 100% ✗ Bᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀsᴋ :: [X]

[mystic_wonderland]

The white haired male felt an icy chill surround him; had someone crawled into bed with him? Opening is eyes, he glanced around the room. He could see his breath forming in a gentle cloud of white as he exhaled. Someone was definitely here, the identity of that someone was unknown. "Quite a rude awakening don't you think? You could have at least pulled the covers off if you wanted to chill me to the bone." he mused as he sat up, only to notice the bed beside him bowing under the weight of an unseen entity. Almost as quickly as the chill came it went, leaving a gentle stillness in the room, and the bed untouched. He looked over to his door as it gently swung shut, as if someone was closing the door upon exit. Running a hand through his disheveled white locks, he pulled the covers from his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The intended cat nap had turned into something more like a three hour nap which was not his original intention. Groggily sliding off of the bed, he walked toward the door of his bedroom and slipped out into the hallway.

The house was dark, with only the dull gray gloom from an overcast sky to light the halls. Walking toward the staircase, he slipped down it with ease and headed for the front door. The mansion was in the ideal location to live. With it being extremely haunted not many wanted to come poking around, and it was deep in the forest where not many dared venture. All in all he enjoyed it here, except for the beings who lived here with him; those he could have done without. The flickering lights, sudden gusts of freezing air, and bumps in the night were just a few of the hauntings he experienced. Granted, they always kept him on his toes, if there was a loud bang during the night or a gunshot echoing throughout the house it still had the ability to send shivers down his spine, and force him outside of his bedroom to go investigate.

Pulling his jacket off of the hanger in the entrance way, he slipped into his shoes while pulling the jacket on. The trek through the woods wasn't bad, if you knew the way to go and kept a sharp eye out for quicksand traps and the marsh seemed to have points that simply dropped into nothingness. There was also the matter of the creatures that lived out there....

It didn't take him long to reach the rain slicked streets of the city. Oh how he hated the rain, all it did was make him cold and wet, but this was even worse, considering it wasn't actual rain. It was more like the clouds above were teasing him with the possibility of heavy rain soon. Pulling the white scarf up higher, he shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and headed toward a shop where he knew where his trade was accepted. All he needed was something to eat for the night and he would be set. He normally traded the crap he found lying around the mansion. Vases and expensive looking dinnerware, jewelry and trinkets. If anyone had children he had a nursery full of children's toys and clothes he had no use for. As of right now, his pockets were lined with a couple gold rings and a watch; he figure he could at least get something decent for those, maybe even pick up some ammunition at the local dealer if they weren't already closed for the night.

Location: Streets
Company: Alone
Ooc: Not the best post out there, but hey it's something. Had no clue where to put him, but he's open for company.

[Little Miss Kitsune]

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✧⊱ D ҽ η ʑ ҽ ɭ xxx ✧ xxxɃ ɭ α Қ ҽ ⊰✧
Denzel had been running along the rooftops for some time now, he was searching for a food market of some sort, but the ones he found were all empty – completely looted!
With a long sigh, Denzel could feel the warmth of his breath on his face due to the mask blocking majority of the air circulation.
Shaking his head slightly, he pulled the hood of his black sweater up to hold as much body heat as he could on such a chilly night. He sat in place on the roof top for a rest, until the uncomfortable rumbling of his stomach signaled him to move on. I know, I know…
Food supply had been slim now that there weren’t any supply shipments coming into the city.

Stepping cautiously forward, he drew in a deep breath before sprinting as fast as he could. Springing himself off the edge of the building, he fell to the neighboring roof. Grabbing a hold of the ledge, he dangled there for a moment before pulling himself back up. Tonight was a horrible night to be up high, everything was too damn slippery! The youth’s heart was thumping hard against his chest from the fright of nearly missing that jump. Cursing softly to himself as he got up off his hands and knees. Something caught his eye… it was bright! Oh, and it stank like nothing he ever smelt before!!
Nearly 2 blocks away from where he stood, was a large fire. Some sort of building was in a blaze, and everything that was in it, created a foul stench. The black smoke bellowing out of the scene blended into the night sky and dark scattered clouds. “What the ********] Denzel murmured softly, entranced by the fire’s fury.
Now he really had to get down from the roofs, what if that flame spread? It could be possible for it to spread to other buildings and get out of hand.
“What kind of idiot?! – Ugh!! How Stupid do you have to be to do that?!” He ranted to himself enraged that a perfectly good hiding place was now burning to the ground. Stomping his foot as he paced back and forth along the building’s edge, trying to decide the best way to get down.
While he scanned below, he caught sight of a familiar color. Teal.
Immediately he dropped, hiding his figure from the other, should he look up. Great…. Just the person he didn’t want to see…
Rolling his eyes, Denzel stood back up. He watched the other stroll down the street with a bag. What was in the bag? The gears were turning in the youth’s mind for only a split second, before he lept. Waiting for the right moment, Denzel swung down to the second story window ledge, and in what seemed to be in the same graceful action, jumped off and landed right on the man’s back.
Grabbing the bag firmly he pulled at it – he hoped his sudden drop in was enough of a surprise for the other to have lost grips.
“Sorry… I usually jump on dumpsters to get down, but I saw you and… well you’re pretty much garbage, so I thought it would be okay!” Denzel said very sweetly, his innocent tone dripping in sarcasm. Taking off with what he could of the bag, he didn’t get far.
It was heavy!! What the ******** is in here?! Its weight and Denzel’s lack of strength to carry it and run at the same time was obvious when he dropping it, spilling half of the contents.
There wasn’t time for this s**t! Kicking one of the food cans as hard as he could at his masked competition, he hopped that was enough of a distraction. The fox nabbed a box of some sort of cookie in one hand, and something metallic in the other. He didn’t spend the time to look closely, before taking off as fast as his feet would carry him. Bolted down the sidewalk, and not looking back, the young bandit could see there was only one stranger in the way of his escape. He had brilliant red hair, and had no idea what was coming up behind him. Denzel didn’t bother to yell at him to move, instead he shoved his way through, and took the opportunity of a human obstacle to cut into in to a store front. Hide. Hide hide hide! Was all Denzel could think.
The store was dark, and empty – perfect. Thinking quickly, he ventured further in with speed. Gracefully maneuvering over broken displays and items, he got to the back storage room where it was almost completely pitch black. The building was in poor shape, the walls and floors were crumbing in places from the lack of maintenance… this could be useful. Looking at a place where a small chunk of drywall had busted off, reviled a very narrow space between the two walls and support beams. Shoving his bag in first, he then begin to wiggle and worm his way inside. His flexibility, and slender frame allowed him to hide in such abnormalities.
Nestled away between the walls, completely out of sight in a very obscure place – he was sure he wouldn’t be found here. Denzel began to focus on slowing his breathing to prevent his panting giving away his location. please don’t look here… please don’t break the wall… he pleaded with Lady Luck.
This man was crazy, Denzel didn’t even know if the other wanted to kill him or not! Who was he kidding, of course the man wanted to kill him, why else would he start to hunt the fox every time they saw each other.
I really shouldn’t have messed up his bag like that… or stole from him… he processed, gripping the stolen box in one hand, and mystery object in the other.
Tch… Whatever! He had it coming, I just know it was him who burnt that building! There was valuables in there that I wanted to get!
For a moment… it was as if reality hit him, and his eyes went wide behind the fox mask that hid the majority of his terror. What if he burns this building too?! Will I be able to get out if he does?!



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ℒocation↪ Hiding between the walls of an abandoned store.
ℱeeling↪ Starving, Scared, Regretful.
ωith↪ Alone > Anon > Alone.
OOC↪ Oh snap~ Den has some sass! xD Bwahaha (Sorry for any errors. Proof reading at midnight~)

Death Road March

Biumu

[Nightingale Effect]

Alter boys alter boys,We’re the things that love destroys!XXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Us, we were pity sex, nothing more and nothing less... XXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

indtAnd you can kill me, kill me or let God sort ‘em out And you can kill me, kill me or...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXHe's an American beauty!
I'm an American I'm an American I'm, I'm, I'm an American PSYCO!!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXI think I fell in love again

Maybe I just took too much cough medicineXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

______________________________________________________________________________________________

He wasn't sure exactly when he became aware of the throbbing only that it was there. A gentle pounding that woke him up with the grace of a heard of elephants. Groaning he rolled over in his makeshift bed and stretched his arms over his head in the darkness that had over taken the world while he was asleep. Only to be startled into full wakefulness when something fell and hit his chest with a hallow thump. His heart racing he brought his left hand up to explore this foreign object.

“s**t.” He swore to himself as he sat up right and pulled his right hand back into a position where the blood flow could return it more easily. He' d slept on it and at some point in the night it had gone completely numb. That paired with the pounding hangover was not making for a good morning, or evening as it were, putting the already poor tempered Thanos in a foul mood.

Slowly the blood flow returned to Thanos's arm and the tingling stopped. He struggled on to his knees and began feeling around the room looking for...Looking for... There it was. He lifted the bottle to his face so he could see it in the dim light cast from the dust coated window, sighing in disappointment as he found it empty. No hair-of-the-dog for Thanos, he was doomed to ride out this hangover sober.

With a disgruntled yell, that he immediately regretted, Thanos lay back in the pile of rags he called a bed. He found the bottle next to some old drunk guy the day before, and figuring they guy was going to be dead soon anyway (like seriously who gets drunk in the street anymore?) he took it and decided to have his own party elsewhere.

The dusty attic was only one of his many homes; that was one of the many good things about the war, who'd have thought Thanos could own more houses then his father? Okay so he didn’t exactly own them per-say but he'd be willing to dispute that fact at knife point if anyone said otherwise. Sure there were no more fancy breakfasts in bed (boy could he use one of those right now) or pretty maids to fawn over him but other then that life was great. No more schooling, no one to tell him what to do. He could get drunk when ever he wanted, fight who ever he chose, do what ever drug he could get his hands on and ******** who ever he pleased.

For the first little while he'd missed the warm bed and comforts of home but at this point he could barely even remember what those were. Instead they were replace with thrilling violence and the wonderful feeling of being alive that he never could have experienced as a pampered rich kid. Many would call him crazy, and maybe he was, but he was glad the exterminators had taken over. There was nothing like a little chaos to make a man realize how good it is to be alive. Thanos flourished in chaos, it was where he belonged.

He wasn't really ready to get out from under the blankets yet but it was becoming apparent his pounding head wasn't going to let him sleep. Not to mention he really had to piss. Closing his eyes against the pain he pulled himself out of his makeshift nest and onto the cold wood floor. Swearing to himself about the cold he zipped his jacket up as far as it would go and stuffed chilly fingers into his pockets as he stumbled to his feet. He'd taken to sleeping in all his clothes as winter set in; it made getting out of bed harder but at least there would be no freezing to death in his sleep like he'd seen so many other loners do.

Thanos undid the flimsy lock he'd fastened to the inside of the ceiling hatch that separated the attic from the rest of the house and, watching it swing open, he considered the jump. He imagined the previous owners of the house had had a latter to get up to the attic at one point but where ever that had been it was gone now. Kept people out of his business anyway but this morning he really would have liked it; it wouldn’t be the first time he'd sprained something getting too eager first thing after waking up.

Sighing; knowing he probably couldn’t get away with it, especially in this cold, he stepped back and began warming up. But damn did he had to piss.

A short time later he stepped coolly out of the building and into the chilly night air. “This ******** sucks.” he cursed pulling his hood up against the cold. He hated winter, if they had to live in a run-down trash heap of a city it could at least be in a warmer climate. Hazily he looked up to the sky, as if to blame his current predicament on some otherworldly being but as he did so he noticed something strange. Smoke was rising from what he could only presume to be a building closer to the centre of the city.

“Sweet.” Thanos said with a croaked grin. “Free heating.” He started off towards the smoke, a new spring in his step. “Now all I need are some wieners.”




______________________________________________________________________________________________xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI'm the best worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet
Mood: Chipper
Thoughts:Aw man, burning things are fun!
Company:No one
OOC:N/A
Album:American beauty/American psycho

[dis awkward silence]

Donovan kept quiet for the most part, letting Cyrus’ question float around for a few seconds. That was a stupid question, or to be more accurate, insulting. Donovan wasn’t an idiot, but it certainly felt like Cyrus implied that he was. That was a good enough reason for the gross hand, an act of petty revenge or something. He just wasn’t happy.

“Yeah? That’s my name,” he said, feigning ignorance. Despite the irritation and impatience in Cyrus’ voice, Donovan still had the satisfaction of hearing his friend say his name. It was peculiar, the way Cyrus always said it; no matter the situation or time of day, he never failed to say Donovan’s name in that signature sing-song way of his. And Don never got tired of hearing it, though he couldn’t give a solid answer as to why. Maybe it was funny, maybe it was cute or amusing, but it was definitely special, something designed only for him. That alone satisfied him enough to let the issue go, leaving his arm in that killer grip for as long as needed. He’d let Cyrus off the hook, he supposed. “Fine, fine, you clean freak.”

Once his arm was released, Donovan let his hand fall to his side, eyes glancing over to Cyrus before settling down on the corpse. He turned away and followed Cyrus out of the room, catching the door just before it closed. Instead of answering what to do about the body, Donovan backtracked to the first question he had chosen to ignore at the time. “Whatever he knew or told them, it probably – it wasn’t that important, given his rank. But if he would have waited a little longer, then.. Well, let’s not go there.” Masato was an idiot, or maybe Donovan should be happy that he was. If the man had kept low for at least another month, he would have had valuable information in his hands. It was good he got the information when he did, or else things would have gotten messy – messier than he would have liked. Speaking of the information, he would have to do something about him. A thank-you present was maybe in order, despite how insufferable the other could be at times.

“Anyway. We can leave it here, just let it rot. But you probably have other ideas, don’t you?” he said, waving his hand dismissively. Cyrus could be a bleeding heart sometimes, despite all the things he’s done; sometimes his life and his personality just didn’t match. Whatever Cyrus wanted to do with the body was up to him. Donovan already finished his part; he didn’t want to bother himself with the issue anymore. “Planning on giving him a burial, maybe?” he asked, walking up to Cyrus from behind.

Donovan narrowed his eyes, the beginning of a frown appearing on his lips. “Don’t give me that s**t. Besides, if I left him to the Berserkers, he might have gone through all of that and plus some. They get a bigger kick out of these things, in case you haven’t noticed.” He waved his hand in the air, making gestures here and there as he talked. “Not everyone, just the ones who stab me in the back.” It was true. If just knowing someone in the Redeemers was grounds enough to get killed, Donovan would be a hypocrite. And maybe he was one, but not for that reason.

As they walked through the building, Donovan felt a buzz in his pocket, followed by another one. He had forgotten to leave his two phones in the car, in case they got damaged during that “chat” with Masato. He reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out a sleek smartphone reserved for business and the like. Despite the small crack on the corner of the screen, the whole thing was still legible. An icon notified him of a text message. He tossed the phone over to Cyrus and reached back into his pocket. “No one in Exterminators,” he replied, returning Cyrus’ gaze with his own, “You’re not the only one with friends. He’s not someone you’d get along with anyway; even I have issues with him sometimes.” He pulled out his second phone - it was more dated than his business phone, but at least it was free of cracks – and looked away to swipe his thumb across the screen.

Speak of the devil. Donovan quickly scanned over the text message, his brows furrowing slightly as he read it. He trailed him, that literal b***h trailed him. Whatever. He was irritated at the fact that Theo had the gall the follow him like that. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, not bothering to reply at the moment. “Anyway. It’s cold outside, and I’m dirty. I need a shower. You’re driving, unless you want me to touch the steering wheel,” he said, making their way to the exit. He looked over to Cyrus, eyebrow raised in an inquisitive look. “If you’re not doing anything, take one with me?” He was half-serious.



⋮ＬＯＣＡＴＩＯＮ⋮ Warehousexx⋮ＭＯＯＤ⋮ tired? playful, deviousxx⋮ＣＯＭＰＡＮＹ⋮ Cyrus



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⊰oh oh cee;; ⊱

[Nightingale Effect]

There's a look in the faces tonight that's untrustable as...


XBlack Bird X
Guillermo Torolf Poviyemo


... the hope that you'll never return in a while

Getting up off the cool concrete G bundled his blankets under one arm and picked up the candle in the other. The small flame shifted and flickered due to the sudden movement and pulled in close to his body in an attempt to keep it from blowing it out. Cradling it more gently this time he began moving towards the stairs to his apartment, huddled against the cold. He was fumbling with trying to open the door and hold his candle at the same time when the smell of smoke entered his nose and the city lit up with a soft 'whooshing' noise.

Forgetting the door G turned to see the house being engulfed a few blocks down. He stood, staring for a moment, unsure of what to do. Nervousness cooled his fingers and sent shivers up his spine, but before that he felt curiosity. His candle hit the end of its wick; glowing brightly before sizzling out and dying, pulling this attention away from the column of smoke. It took him a second to decide his next move before he dropped the candle holder, covered now in rapidly cooling way, and threw the blankets off his body. Trouble was brewing in the city tonight and where ever trouble was the exterminators were not too far away.

G flew out of his apartment and watched down the street as the orange glare grew; probably catching onto another building. The fire would be contained; it was damp and it couldn’t grow any bigger then the block anyway but G still worried there might be someone caught in it. His grip tightened on the notebook he'd just been franticly writing in as he prepared himself to run towards the chaos; a voice somewhere in the back of his mind edging him on. “Go, go to the Chaos.” When out of no where something slammed into his leg.

The force wasn’t enough to knock him over but with the added tension of the fire blazing down the street it was enough to send his heart racing into his throat. “I-I” His mind went blank.

“H-help me, please help.” The little boy clutching his leg begged, probably knowing he only had mere seconds before his would be assailant caught up, but G could do nothing but stare.

A blank expression came over his face as a whole life time of memories whipped around in his head. Outwardly he might have looked like he'd gone brain dead, a vacantness consumed him and he simply stared at the boy like a doll. But inwardly a battle was raging. Fired raged, the bullet wound in his side burned as if hell it's self had been unleashed into him. Blood, and the cold dead eyes of the little boy in his arms stared up at him accusingly. Why? Why hadn’t he seen this coming? No, this couldn't be happening. No, he couldn't, he couldn't remember this.

Then he felt a warm pair of arms wrap around him and someone whispered; “It's okay, it's just a dream...” and that was right, it was all just a dream...

All this transpired in the time of just a few seconds but by the time G came too, all memories of the past day locked away wit so many others, the child was already backing away. “Wha?” there was a moment of confusion before G noticed the look of fear in the child’s eyes. What had happened? What had he done?

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Please don't worry lover, there's a lack of color here.

X Album: Transatlanticism
X Mood: Confused
X Persona: G.
X With: A little boy
X Thoughts: Did- Did I hurt him?
X Ooc: N/A

You're always on time, so...