Ｉｎ Ｆｏｒ Tｈｅ Ｋｉｌｌ (Pansexual)

[IFTK Guide]

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Wraith was sitting quietly, listening very closely to everything Lucien said to him. He was very aware of the situation he was now in. So it seemed that this young character thought he was all money and no dice. This disappointed Wraith. He pondered the words that Lucien was speaking. Perhaps he shouldn’t be disappointed. It seemed that he was simply attempting to see if Wraith had any teeth, and if so how sharp they were. He didn’t get the impression that Lucien didn’t take him seriously, or underestimated him. It merely appeared that he wanted to know what he had to offer, and if it was good enough to jeopardize himself in the hands of the Russians.

Failed to impress? That thought did bring mild disillusion to Wraith. To impress was to ensnare, if he didn’t have that, then he was obviously falling short in some areas. Then again, most would be impressed at this point. Wraith had to admit that Lucien wasn’t most people. If anything he was far superior to most people, especially those he associated with. He wasn’t interested in money, Wraith had an idea what he was after.

“As I do not wish to let you down,” he leaned forward toward Lucien.

“You want me to frighten you. While I imagine you are quite unflappable, I’m sure I have just the thing,” he said unblinkingly sitting across from Lucien, “You see, Lucien Serbanescu, I know much about you. More than I’m sure you imagine I do. I know your boss; I know what he’s after, and so much more. Though it might cost me dearly, I know exactly how to ensure that you disappear and that dear Commissioner of yours; well let’s just say his size won’t help him in the least,”

“Oh yes, I know about Elessa Villiers. He’s not exactly the most subtle man. He really should be more discreet, but then I’m sure you’ve made more than one attempt to tell him just that. He doesn’t understand what bored businessmen with money are capable of, or the extremity to which one will go to achieve their ends. Odd sort of attitude for a cop, most of them know the evils of the world. I suppose yours just prefers to oblivious to them,”

He was careful with his tone. It was a threat but that was more or less what Lucien had requested of him. At this point, there was no other way for him to get what he wanted.

“But I know your game. I see where the pieces are moving in your head. We’re playing a game strategy, like those of the orient. You, Lucien, want me to scare you. A challenge I gladly accept and one you knew I would. You’re trying to get me to reveal something; which, as the both of us know, is game I cannot win.”

“I know things about you. About the world you grew up in, things you wouldn’t want anyone else to know. I happen to know of a little accident, killing several people, quite tragic actually. Somewhere in Mongolia if I remember correctly. I was there doing business and I remember reading about it in the paper. Really unfortunate. Rumor had it; no one knew why they were even there. Foreigners apparently, Russian if I’m not mistaken,”

Now he wasn’t even being coy, they were far past that, Lucien had made that very clear..

“Tell me, are you frightened yet?” he asked, his polite smirk playing on his lips.

[IFTK Guide]

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As soon as his accepted surname left the lips of Wraith cross, Lucien knew this man had more information than he’d implied. No one knew his surname, not even Elessa, and Lucien hadn’t heard it spoken by a non-syndicate person in quite some time.

Immediately Lucien was both wary and pleased; Wraith was taking his bait, allowing his ego to expose his entire arsenal. Now Lucien could find out what Wraith truly knew about him, because nothing was more dangerous than playing the game blindly. And now that Wraith’s pride was compromised, he was all too willing to shed all the light that Lucien wanted.

But the mention of his surname was so affecting that Lucien wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Elessa came up in conversation. Dark eyes narrowed scrutinizingly, but again he didn’t speak, allowing Wraith every opportunity to share his thoughts. Wraith made a reference to his ‘boss’, and Lucien raised his eyebrows skeptically but did not interject. He doubted this man was acquainted with New Vasik, so…

He must be referring to the Shepherd currently stationed in Whistle City, but Lucien didn’t know anything about that mysterious entity. When the older redhead’s threat came full circle, Lucien’s expression still didn’t change, his mind lingering on the mention of his ‘boss’.

Did Wraith truly know his game? Lucien smiled.

Ah, now for the ‘things he wouldn’t want anyone to know’. It was a clever tactic, really, and playing on a person’s scars could certainly achieve a grand affect if properly coordinated, but Wraith still seemed too afraid to really go in for the kill. He was being polite, discreet, which softened the blow of his implications considerably, and the problem with utilizing Lucien’s past was that Lucien never assumed anything about him was a secret. He had faced as many of his own demons as early on as possible, knowing that his enemies and allies would seek the most fractured part of his mentality to strike their blow. Most people were horrified by the thought of their darkest monsters being commonly known, but Lucien was all too aware of how easily one could gain debilitating information.

At first, Lucien didn’t know what ‘accident’ Wraith was referring to, but it didn’t take him long to understand. Ah, Mongolia; he’d traveled through the country several times during his trafficking days. Wraith was clearly referring to the unfortunate slaughter of Lucien’s own bratva, during one instance where the young squad leader had been unable to accompany them. Tragic, indeed.

“Tell me, are you frightened yet?”

“Not in the slightest,” Lucien returned comfortably, though he was impressed with Wraith’s knowledge and that had been the information he’d really sought to expose. “You have all the nails, but you need practice driving them in. You have every advantage over me with the exception of experience, so intimidating me should be a simple affair.”

The most disconcerting tidbit mentioned by the aristocrat was his knowledge of Elessa, and that was something Lucien had prepared for. The amount of research Wraith had conducted prior to this meeting was certainly…revealing, though.

“Stand up when you threaten,” Lucien instructed, gracefully rising from his place at the edge of the coffee table. A few slow, roundabout steps brought him closer to the side of Wraith’s chair. He dropped his voice, speaking lowly as he moved. “Not only is movement unsettling – especially the leisurely, circular wander of the waiting predator – but now you have to look up to meet my gaze.”

From beside Wraith’s chair, Lucien reached around and touched the businessman’s jaw, tilting his head over and up to illustrate his point. His expression relaxed and undaunted, he looked down at the other for a moment before stepping behind the chair, his fingers sliding against Wraith’s skin before breaking contact.

“An unwanted invasion of space,” he purred softly. “You seem solid, Wraith Cross, possibly because you have yet to taste true pain, but most are not so lucky. When you make your threat, you want the prey to feel like they have no control; you are only the master if they believe you are. If you want to play with the syndicate you’ll need every possible edge, so know how to make your prey feel what you want them to feel before you verbalize your intentions.”

Lucien leaned down from behind Wraith’s chair, one hand sliding along the other’s shoulder lightly while his lips dipped towards Wraith’s ear.

“Intelligence will not save you, despite your mental constitution. You are not immune to heat or electrocution, and the right tortures over a long enough period of time will turn even you into a simpering fool,” he murmured, his voice soft. “You don’t have to possess a phobia – I can give you one. I can conjure any demon, any misery, and I possess the patience to make my punishments a true nightmare. When I’m through, you won’t retain the capacity for individual thought, not even the ability to recall your own name.”

He’d seen it happen.

“No man is impenetrable.”

Close to Wraith’s person, Lucien could smell the man’s expensive aftershave and feel the beat of his pulse. He smirked just a little, his red-hair draping over Wraith’s shoulder to mingle with his own.

“Never share what you know with your prey, Wraith Cross. Uncertainty is far more frightening.”

Lucien pulled back slowly, drawing his hands away from Wraith as he completed his journey around the chair, coming to stand before the businessman again. Hands unthreateningly settled at his sides, he regarded his prospective colleague, his dust-stained clothes and young features contradicted by the hardness of his gaze.

“So tell me what is so important that you’d throw dice with one such as myself. I want to know exactly what you expect of me, in every context. I want to know what I’ll gain if I agree, what I’ll lose if I don’t, and exactly why I shouldn’t trade you to the syndicate for knowing more than any Outsider should. I’m sure I could gain a healthy perk for eliminating you as a potential threat.”

But Wraith certainly knew enough to compromise him, and that wasn't the kind of information he could've just picked up anywhere. Whatever his ploy, he was working hard for it...

“You’ve shown me your hand, so no more playing with unnecessary words.”

[IFTK Guide]

Suoh Kahre scrubbed intently at the keyboard in his lap with an antibacterial wipe, removing the dirt and grime and remains of mysterious consumables from between the keys. Usually he had his own personal keyboard that he used when he needed to operate public computers, but he didn't feel like going all the way out to his car to get it and he was pretty sure he had enough wipes to make one of the tech lab keyboards touchable. His fingers were still bare -- he didn't want his gloves to get wet from the sanitizer -- and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie draped over the back of the chair.

He didn't expect anyone to bother him, that was pretty obvious. The tech lab was tucked in the back of the precinct and there wasn't anyone who visited it after hours -- excepting him, of course -- and everyone was so busy with their festivities that it was even less likely someone would be interested in wandering so far from the warmth and laughter. So Suoh had the lights off save the dim glow from his screen and the rippling screensavers of its companions, and light electronica drifted from the speakers he'd hooked up to his chosen partner. One long leg was tucked diagonally beneath his body while the other foot tapped lightly against the carpeted floor.

Suoh paused briefly in his work to accept the EULA, continuing the installation of Starscatter Galaxy, when a light knock came at the door.

If it was Elessa, he might be tempted to beat him with the keyboard. They were on relatively good terms, so it wasn't a great idea to compromise civility by spending too much time in the other's company. That, and...he didn't want to have to explain his decision to avoid the group, and he didn't want to put up with any teasing. He didn't need his awkwardness pointed out to him, even light-heartedly; he was quite aware of his own discrepancies.

But it was Bronte at the entrance, hesitatingly requesting admittance. A slight look of surprise crossed Suoh's features and his hands paused in their respective tasks -- his left at his mouse, his right lightly holding a fresh sanitation wipe -- as he regarded the brunette uncertainly.

...Maybe he had something he wanted to talk about?

"Uhh....sure," the blonde answered, as if confused why Bronte would want to visit the tech lab.

A bit of an awkward silence hung over the room when Bronte didn't actually enter, almost as if he hadn't even heard Suoh's response. The officer lingered against the doorway, seemingly oblivious to his immediate surroundings and making Suoh immensely uncomfortable, until his balance slipped and he nearly went down. He caught himself and laughed, causing Suoh to raise his eyebrow.

"Try not to knock yourself out," he remarked in his usual dry, teasing tone. "I'd hate to have to explain how that happened."

Relaxing a bit, he checked to ensure that his files were still installing properly before he went back to his task of cleaning the keyboard. It was rare that he did much of anything without his gloves on, and it was almost comical the lengths he went to avoid actually touching the equipment with the safety of the cloth he was using.

"Didn't you work things out with Elessa?" he asked, though his eyes remained on his work. It was a rare occasion when Bronte didn't feel like socializing, of all people. "He doesn't seem too terribly concerned."

Suoh decided against telling Bronte that Jocef said the holiday season was the only reason he wasn't suspended.

"People are going to come looking for you if you're missing too long, you know."

[IFTK Guide]

The physical contact had caught him off guard at first. Jocef wasn’t a particularly physical person. He valued personal space and boundaries, contributing factors to his failed relationships. He couldn’t say he felt any different about Sari but he didn’t have the emotion to protest. Jocef’s deep blue hues lifted to look into Sari’s. He’d always been such a good friend, and Jocef held that in high regard. Even when he was down in the lowest of places, as he was now, Sari had this way of talking to him; a way that got through to him.

Jocef’s work load had increased marginally since the incident with his son. He’d done anything and everything he could to keep his mind off of things but here he was spilling his guts to Sari, a man that had just wanted to see how he was doing. And now Jocef had unloaded all of his problems onto the other.


“I didn’t mean to just load all that on you. It’s just this case, and Jane and everything else. It’s just hard to…talk about things like that with….with anyone really. Thanks for…uh..listening. I appreciate it,” he said pulling away from Sari.


“I don’t about all that, but you’re probably right about going home. I need some time to myself. I was supposed to go with Dyllin but I’m going to have to tell him I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…it just kind of hit me all of a sudden. I’m getting the feeling we’re not doing any good here again,”

He’d feel bad for deserting his partner but he was really not good company in his state. The last thing he wanted was to take it out on Dyllin, who did nothing but try to help him the same as Sari. Damn the holidays could be melancholy.


“Sari, I’m just…scared…” he said standing to straighten himself,
“What If I’m not good enough? I mean, most boys with fathers that were in the military look up to them. Want to be like them. Isaiah, when he’s older, will he see that? Will he look back on his childhood and want to be like his father when he has kids? The last thing I want for my son is heartache. And if he ends up like me, that’s all he’ll be in store for,”


“I just want my son to have a life worthy of remembering…A father worthy of remembering. What he remembers is the important thing. Will he remember a man that took care of him or will I just be a bad memory?” he said looking at the minister again,
“I suppose that’s why I should take your advice. I know I should take your advice. It’s just difficult to be near him. It’s like when he was first born, I was afraid to touch him because I was terrified I’d break him, except I nearly did break him,”

Jocef realized whatever it was that he was going through, he needed to get himself together. He did have a son to look after. How was he supposed to ensure a good memory of himself when he kept his son at arm’s length? Jocef realized, as he pondered things, just how twisted the inner workings of his mind were. First he reasoned that he shouldn’t see his son; then contradicted himself, saying he wanted him to have good memories of him.

Jocef wished he was better with pressure than this. He was solid when it came down to high tension moments. He didn’t break a sweat in the interrogation room. His hand was always steady when he pulled his gun from its holster. So why was it that when things got emotional or tough, he turned into this mess of a man? He wasn’t sure he understood himself.


“Well, Sari, I appreciate you coming in here with no intention of being verbally accosted and then talking me down from another of my emotional edges. As always, it seems I’ve managed to get myself wound up so tight I might break at the slightest strum,” he said tentatively putting a hand on Sari’s shoulder, it was obvious that he was still shaky,
“I’m going to head home, try to get some sleep before tomorrow. I’m on the first round in the AM, I suppose that’s because they expect me to be sober and the least likely to have a hangover,”

He walked the ginger to the door, grabbing his trench coat from the hook on the wall behind the door. Sleep, whether it would do him good or not, seemed ridiculously out of reach, but he needed to be rested for work….and Christmas with his son.

As he walked out of the office, he looked around at his fellow police officers. The Commissioner was unsurprisingly already beginning what was likely to be a drunken stupor and roping the Chief into the game as well. Though, Jocef imagined, it couldn’t be that hard, Silas was Russian. He let his disapproving gaze sweep the room before he walked towards the corner where he’d left Dyllin.


“Hey, I have to head out. Things got a little too heavy. I’m not going to be able go with you, being Christmas and all….you might want to go alone anyway,” he said looking at his partner while he pulled on his coat,
“I’ve got Isaiah for a week, starting tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to come by…just…not tonight,”

He hated leaving him like that but he really did just need the rest of the night to make his mood improve. He felt as though he was at the beginning of a long night, he was probably right. And so he was to go home and nurse a small glass of scotch before falling into a restless sleep filled with dreams of his past.


“Thanks again, Sari,” he said before leaving the precinct for the night.

[IFTK Guide]

From Russia....

Silas stared for a moment at Elessa but he couldn’t help a roll of his eyes at the other man’s comment, the thought that anything scandalous would happen between them was laughable.

“We can’t have that, the women of the office wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, I’m fairly sure they have a pool going about when something like that will happen.”

Even if they were both fond of men, which might be the case, they were too different for that to even work. They said that opposites attract but Silas highly doubted that because there had to be some common ground to bring two people together.

“A storm chaser?” Silas gave a small chuckle as Sari spoke about his experience with the tornado, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sure he was furious, you probably worried him sick standing on the roof like that but everyone worries their parents at some point. I’m sure I’ve done my fair share to keep my parents up at night.” He hadn’t seen his parents in years, his father had been less than pleased with his decision to join the Bratva. Silas made a mental note to check on them and see if they were doing well.

His eyebrows rose at the prospect of trying one of Sari’s pies and Elessa’s excitement for them certainly built up a certain expectation. “Well thank you Sari and Elessa, I’m sure you’re still his favorite person to bake for.” He let out a short breath of a laugh at the Commissioner’s comparison of Sari’s pies to the delight of the heavenly afterlife but he was quick to turn his attention back to Sari when he ran off to fill up a plate.

“A big brother, hm.” Silas seemed to consider that for a moment, “His size is big but his antics belong more to the class of a little brother.” Giving a slight shrug, Silas nodded his head to Sari as he left, perhaps he could help get Jocef to relax just a small bit for the evening. No need for the man to completely indulge but everyone needed a break now and then.

A small frown surfaced on his face as he saw Elessa bouncing back towards him, he wouldn’t have the fodder of Sari any longer. Managing to turn the frown into a small smile, Silas gave a shrug of his shoulders. “At the risk of sounding stereotypical, I prefer vodka over most other drinks. But remember, just one drink, I don’t intend to get drunk.”

....With Love.

[IFTK Guide]

“Good evening…”

“…Commissioner.”

Elessa cackled at the thought of the office ladies gambling over when or what would happen between him and Silas. The answer to that one was nothing. He was cool with Silas and all, but~ He did have a partner, and Silas… The thought was frightening~ He was so… manly. He couldn’t imagine who would even… oh god. Elessa had to stop his train of thought right there before he began to picture it. No, he really did not need that imagery in his head of Silas spread—

“OKAY! Vodka it is, Silas, good choice, pal.”

And maybe some brain bleach to follow up his drink… Eughbleagh.

He turned to seize the bottle of vodka and turned full circle in search of the red solo cups he’d bought for the occasion. He hummed softly in thought before spying them near the food tables. He danced on over to grab before sliding on back over to his chief.

“You sure I can’t convince you to have a second or third drink? C’mon, how often do we get the chance to drink, you and me?” Male bonding time! They were big shots about the precinct, important men… “You’re someone I’d like to spend time with. Not in a suggestive way, so don’t even look this way, ladies.”

He tossed a playfully sharp look at some of the receptionists that had inconspicuously gathered closer to where Elessa and Silas stood.

Elessa rolled his gaze back to the Russian as he poured their dual drinks. He offered Silas a half-full solo cup, then lifted his own to propose a toast.

"Merry Christmas, Silas. Hope the new year treats ya' well, my man."

For him, as well. With that reporter guy that Bronte fudged up on, who could say for sure what would come of that. Well... He was just going to take it day by day. As for his romantic interest, he hoped that that continued to go well. Speaking of... Elessa removed his cell phone from his pocket to check for any missed calls or messages. Neither. Well~ Pfooey.He exhaled and dropped the device back into his deep pocket.

He took a sip of the strong alcoholic beverage and winced as it burned his esophagus on the way down.

"You Russians," He gasped, rolling his tongue around his mouth as the remaining flavor attacked his taste-buds. "And for the record, you liking vodka is rather stereotypical." He grinned over at the male and took yet another sip.

[IFTK Guide]

Jenique sighed, looking at Rabbit.

“I feel alone…”p/color] she said attempting to pull away from Rabbit, “I’ve been through a lot of s**t and that song…it made me think about everything.”

She looked at the sweet girl before her, “It’s not that I don’t like you, because I do in a painful way. There’s just a whole lot you don’t know about me. You’re sweet and beautiful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. I’m afraid that may be what happens if you hang around me. I get it, we just met and all that jazz but that’s how it all starts,”

The blue haired female choked back the tears as she started to think about Wayan once more.

“You see, I’m a horrible person. I let my kid get taken away, let my man get thrown in prison, and then got myself into a lot trouble. So here I am, trying to pretend like nothing happened. If wanna-be-gay hadn’t sung such a sad song I wouldn’t have come out here,” she said giving a wry laugh.


“I’ve been through hell and back, the way it sounds you’ve had as about as much as I have. I’d hate to make it worse. As much as I’d like to swear I’d never hurt you, I know myself. I’m damaged goods, Sweets. I’m tainted, I’ve been beaten, broken, done some beating and breaking,”

“You already know I was in prison….but do you know how I got there?” she asked taking a cigarette from her back pocket and lighting, “Here’s the thing, I got my tight little a** into some deep s**t. When I was fifteen, I met this guy. Perfect, he could sing, play an instrument and he was in the perfect way, you know? We ran around together for a year, just raisin’ hell and being happy. Then when I was sixteen, we had a little accident. Found myself up the spout, in the family way. At first I was pissed, freakin’ out, you know? I was scared shitless and then he said ‘We should keep it. We’ll be a family.’ He was such sucker for a happy ending.”

As she spoke, there was the subtlest of smiles gracing her pink painted lips. Wayan made her think of a better time. Sure she’d been pregnant and scared but she wasn’t alone. She’d been happy, truly happy.

“We thought everything was going to be all fine and good until my a*****e of a brother found out. He and my man’s dad were in the military together, kinda how we met. Anyway, mein-brooter turned my baby daddy in because he was 21 when we started ********,” she was looking at the ground again, tears welling up in her eyes, “So he went to prison and I was very pregnant. And to top off all of that s**t, I went into labor early because some b*****d tried to rape me, some sick ******** thinking I was an easy target.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the hot tears roll down her frozen cheeks, “And now I have nothing and no one. My kid is gone, my man is in prison and I’m here trying to get on with my life. A ******** wonderful job I’m doing."

[IFTK Guide]

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xxxＲａｂｂｉｔ Ｋｏｄｉａｋxxx

Art © Khiliel.

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When Jenique resisted her embrace, Rabbit acquiesced and stepped back from her. One thing she learned about people was that only sometimes should you press on. She didn’t know Jenique well enough to make that judgment call. For now, she would standby and look for the cues that she wanted to be held. She didn’t want to upset the woman more than she already was.

Jenique seemed like such a strong, willful woman. It frightened her to see her this way, makeup running with tears… If she couldn’t handle her demons, how could Rabbit? She shook then, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

Rabbit listened to the ex-jail-bird as she spoke, really listened. While her ‘it’s not that I don’t like you’ speech sounded painfully familiar, she knew better than to jump to conclusions. After all, they had to actually date before Jenique could break up with her.

She proceeded to tell her all of the awful things that had happened to her in the past. She had a child…? Rabbit’s eyes widened and she felt the scab of an all too new wound rip clean off. Subconsciously, she folded her arms around herself and found she too had to choke back tears.

“I’m sorry,” Rabbit choked out quietly, tears finally dropping from her blue eyes, “I didn’t know…” She trailed off then, realizing she didn’t know a lot of things. She didn’t know why she suffered so much when it came to relationships, didn’t know why she was a part of a gang when she had the skillset to manage a professional career… It was because she was fractured from the war, from love, from the loss of…

No, she couldn’t think of that now.

Regardless of her determination, the memories and pain flowed like a tidal wave through her mind, heart, and her body. She had loved him so much, had been willing to try anything to make it work… He was the first to have thrown her away so heartlessly. He hadn’t cared at all, probably wouldn’t even if he knew what she had done.

Rabbit choked on a sob then, never ceasing to listen to Jenique and her tale. She looked so happy when she talked about her the father of her child, in an awfully sad way. Did she look that way when she talked about him? No, she couldn’t – she didn’t speak about him to anyone.

Her brother turned in her lover? Why? If she had been happy, if he treated her well, then why would he do such a terrible thing? Jenique’s brother sounded like a monster. How could he bring himself to ruin the happiness of someone as beloved as a sibling?

“You have me.”

Rabbit sobbed, her tears flowing freely by then. She couldn’t imagine going through what she went through. Her experiences were hard enough, and she hadn’t even… Rabbit decided to ignore her rules then and pressed her body to Jenique’s, her arms wrapping tightly around her torso. She felt terrible, so awful…

“And Rook, and… well, Sword, even if he takes a bit to warm to you, and…”

Rabbit sniffled to keep from getting snot on Jenique’s pretty outfit.

“I won’t let people hurt you anymore. I won’t. A-as for your b… your baby, we’ll take that a day at a time, okay? We’ll see what we can do to get your baby back.”

She wanted to help her. She didn’t want to see her sad anymore. She was too strong for that, she emanated strength in her walk, in her voice. Rabbit couldn’t stand the sight of her crying… She did enough of that herself.

“Please don’t cry anymore,” She murmured in her neck, giving her a fond squeeze, “We can get Rook back together, if you want!”

[IFTK Guide]

“Hah, you better step it up hardcore if you want to be any competition.”

Rook chuckled, but his mind was too distracted to come up with any especially witty retort, and he didn’t care enough to try. It wasn’t a bad thing, he was just…thinking of a lot of things. Too many things. He smiled softly at Sword when the black male sat down on the step next to him. As if he hadn’t just had a cigarette right before his own song, Rook dug out his pack and tugged one out.

Sword wasn’t wrong; he definitely had things on his mind, and smoking so often was a pretty good indication of that. But he didn’t seem unhappy, and chain-smoking was a huge improvement over binge drinking. If anything, the amount of liquor he had already consumed tonight was less than his usual standard, and though he meant to maintain his healthy buzz he didn’t show any desire to get completely wasted. He was watching himself this year.

“A homewrecker?” Rook repeated in confusion, more to himself than Sword. “Huh. Why would Jenique care? I mean, I was at the table when he came over…”

Then again, Jenique seemed a little…intense, so she was probably more stressed out than she let on. A lot of things were changing for her, so…Rook could relate, especially given the time of the year.

The brunette tossed Sword a glance when the other nudged him, his hands lifting to his mouth to light his cigarette. Thanks for what? Rook raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

…Oh.

The third paused to inhale from his cigarette, then turned his face away briefly so he could exhale without assaulting Sword’s senses.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” he remarked, his eyes fixed momentarily on the ground as he flicked a small collection of ashes off to the side. He glanced at his friend again, “You know I’m, uh…sorry ‘bout all that.”

Regardless of what had happened or how he felt about it, he hadn’t handled it the right way and he’d hurt a lot of people because of it. He’d known that even then, but…it had been so hard to even care…

But he regretted the things he’d put Sword through, all the fights and aggression both physical and otherwise. And then the cloud of depression, so heavy and thick that he couldn’t see anything else. Sometimes it still amazed and baffled him that Sword had anything to do with him after all that…

“I’d probably be six feet under if you hadn’t stuck it out with me,” Rook murmured, and his sincere appreciation was apparent in his tone. “I know we got pretty strained there for awhile, but even then…”

The third place a hand on Sword’s shoulder, leaning over and touching his forehead to the other’s temple in a tender gesture of affection. Whatever problems they might have with their relationship, it wasn’t because Rook didn’t love Sword, and it certainly wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate him.

Sword was amazing.

“It took awhile to get through this thick ******** skull ‘o mine,” he said quietly, “but you made me want to change.”

And it was only when he had reached that point that he could start to progress. No one could help him if he was being stubbornly unreceptive, and Draith Rook was notorious for exactly that. Hurting Sword, though – hurting their relationship – eventually made him realize how…wrong he was, and how much Sword was trying to do for him. Even during the periods when they couldn’t stand to be in each other’s company, Sword’s influence was at work in him. Sword had endured his share of loss, so he understood that pain, even if Rook’s downward spiral had plunged so deeply that no one was sure if he would recover. He never had taken emotional damage very well.

“There’s more for me in this life.”

Still close to Sword, Rook took comfort in the feel of him, in the familiar scent of his skin and hair. He smiled to himself, giving the black male’s shoulder a squeeze before pulling away, though their bodies still touching because of the confined space of the steps.

The brunette glanced over at the crowd in time to catch eyes with one of the newer, larger security guards, who glared at him and narrowed his eyes scrutinizingly. Rook made sure his cigarette was out of sight, but it was hard to hide the lingering waft of smoke.

“s**t, I’d better step outside,” he said, for once not looking for a confrontation. “Figured I’d phone Big Ben before it gets too late anyway.”

He was clearly reluctant to get his a** up and venture out into the cold wind and snow, but after a moment of vying with himself he finally stretched his legs and rose. He turned back to Sword, offering his hand to aid the African-American, more out of habit than any doubt of the other’s ability to stand on his own.

“I’ll be back in ‘fore you start singin’,” he declared with a small, playful grin. “Don’t wanna miss the main course or it won’t be a satisfyin’ experience, right?”

[IFTK Guide]

"Uhh....sure," Suoh answered, and inwardly Bronte smiled some, heart skipping. Already, permission to enter the blonde's personal sanctuary was cheering him. He couldn't even explain why he liked Suoh so much—the young man never seemed to hold much of an interest in him, but Bronte didn't mind. There was something about the way he carried himself; he knew Suoh had his problems, but...that was okay. He had his own problems he needed to work through, so...

...Maybe if Suoh let him through, they could help each other.

After the admittance and Bronte slipped, Suoh seemed to lighten a bit and made one of his usual sarcastic remarks, but it didn't bother him. No, it made him feel better. Feel like at least something was normal. Lately, even before today, he'd felt things beginning to slip around him. His younger brother was gone without a trace, he'd not heard from his best friend in years, his mother was getting old (hell, HE was getting older, too), and things were just...nothing seemed right. Christmas was never the best time of year for him, and it only seemed to be getting worse.

Just to make things seem normal again, he'd thought about reenlisting in the Marines. Leaving behind the monotony of life and the day-to-day injustices wrought by petty criminals, and doing something greater than this. Becoming someone who could make a difference. Changing himself completely and being a channel for the greater good. He could barely stand this anymore—as an officer he was near useless when it came to working with the media, as seen earlier. As a person he was hardly better; an emotional mess most of the time and a worn thin curtain shielding those on the outside from what was held inside the rest. He didn't want to bother anyone with his troubles, so he hardly let anyone see more than his smile—they were more important than him.

Jerking himself from the unhappy thoughts, Bronte took a hesitant step inside the lab. It wasn't often he visited the clean, white-walled area, and he felt mildly uncomfortable and out of place, like a blemish on an immaculate surface. However, his resolve steeled by the fact that Suoh allowed him inside, Bronte managed to push away the discomfort for now and moved in, glancing around for a moment until Suoh spoke again.

"Didn't you work things out with Elessa? He doesn't seem too terribly concerned."

Bronte paused. Elessa? Oh, right, he had worked things out. But that wasn't the reason—well, it was a part of the reason—that he was in here. He just wanted a little company, but wasn't in the mood for the big party going on around them...

“Oh! Uh, yeah. I just...I thought maybe you could—I mean, maybe I...” He paused then, face flushing with the frustration of his words not coming out, as usual. Why could he never talk around Suoh? He felt like a kid with a crush, and it wasn't acceptable. He needed to man up a bit, didn't he?

Going silent for a moment to fish for his next coherent sentence, the man sighed a bit and offered a slightly tired smile. Not quite an impish grin or a playful smirk, it just...was. A gesture enough to show that he had things on his mind but not quite revealing enough to hint at what they were. It was an unusual expression to see on Bronte's face.

“No one wants to spend Christmas alone, right?”

Leaning a bit to take a peek at Suoh's computer screen, the officer blinked at the blonde's next comment. People would come looking for him? Nah, he wasn't that missed; he wasn't the life of the party, like Elessa. Nor was he an interesting individual like Silas. He wasn't even a sweetheart like Sari...

No one would notice if he disappeared for a while.

“They'll be fine without me for a bit, I'm sure. Hey—isn't that Starscatter Galaxy? I love that game!”

[IFTK Guide]

▄▀▄♖▄▀▄xxxxxxxxxx✴xxxxxxxxxx✴xxxxxxxxxx▄▀▄♖▄▀▄

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❝ɴever coulɗ ɗecide

ʜow чou ωanʈed us ʈo be.❞

❝ωʜч ωon'ʈ чou sʜow

чour inʈenʈions ʈowards me?❞

“When do I not step it up? Shithead.”

He tossed him a sideways grin and knocked him mildly with his shoulder. Sword had that s**t on lock. Few things in his current station made him want to be the best he could be. Singing was one of two things that made him strive for improvement. If he was going to put on a show, he was going to put on a ******** show. Why bother otherwise? He was certain no one wanted to listen to a half-assed rendition of cherished music.

The other was Draith Nathaniel Rook. The man brought out the natural best of his personality – surprisingly, when he recalled the countless fist fights – and he made Sword remember that there was more to life than heartache and misery. Not exactly by example, but by existing. Rook lived a s**t life, suffered more than most, yet he managed to remain sprightly. And, in his own way, optimistic – a trait of his that Syracuse respected without end.

Sword watched without comment as Rook retrieved one of his mangled Pall Malls from his even worse-off carton. He smelled like cigarette already, and if Sword had to guess, he’d say Rook snuck one before his performance. He smoked before their trek to White Noise, then on the way to. He felt that all-too familiar twinge of concern, but he resisted the urge to press him. He knew how he behaved when he was hiding something, and chain-smoking wasn’t it. Sword trusted that when Rook wanted to talk, he’d open up.

Instead, he opted to offer tactile reassurance. Knowing someone who gave a s**t was nearby helped him cope more often than words alone did. He rested a hand on Rook’s knee and left it at that.

Rook did speak then, but it wasn’t about his subdued demeanor. Sword gave a shrug of his shoulders and murmured an idle, “Yeah, I don’t know.” in response to his comment about Jenique and the dandy boy who’d asked for a dance. Really, though, it wasn’t that hard to piece together. The first time she saw Rook and Sword together, they were cozily embraced, so… it was a natural assumption, validity notwithstanding. She was looking out for them in her brash way, he guesstimated.

Sword watched Rook take a drag from his cigarette, eyes fixed on his face. He felt like he could look at him for the rest of his life and never get bored. He was everything Sword wanted and could never put a name to. When he dared to look at Rook like this, he felt every burden that pressured him, each crushing boulder bearing down on his shoulders disperse to render him… weightless.

He wanted to—

Rook glanced at him and the spell shattered. He averted his eyes quickly and dutifully disregarded the drumming noise inside his head. He shifted uncomfortably, fingers on Rook’s knee twitching as he contemplated removing his hand. He didn’t want to be so obviously nervous, but he had never been caught looking at him that way, and he would like to keep it that way until he was given the privilege to do so without obstruction – if.

Because of him? He looked at Rook then, sincerely stunned for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t have been, considering how often they spent nights awake fighting their personal demons together. Rook wasn’t exactly vocal about this sort of thing, so it was easy to think he didn’t make much of a difference. Then Rook apologized him, which further flabbergasted him. Granted, he heard him say ‘I’m sorry’ more than anyone else in his acquaintance, but it never failed to shock. Rook could be a stubborn a*****e when he had half the mind to be.

“Y’know you don’t have to apologize to me.”

It was nice to hear and all, but Sword knew when he was feeling contrite. He could read between the lines of Rook’s actions nine times out of ten. He understood that Rook was trying to be more expressive, and while he appreciated that wholeheartedly, he hated the idea of forcing Rook himself to take on this sort of personality overhaul for his or anyone else’s benefit. If Rook wanted to be more vocal about his feelings, then more power to him.

Otherwise, Sword loved him as he was.

Rook made a comment about probably being dead, earning him a none too pleased frown. They both had been low, but come on… Suicide? Getting themselves killed? Anything was possible, he knew, though the thought… unnerved him.

Without Rook, where would he be? In jail, probably. Hell, maybe he would have slipped up and got himself in the hands of one of the many bigshot mafia gamblers he’d won money off of… Luckily, neither of them had died, so he didn’t sweat the hypotheticals too much.

A hand settled on his shoulder, and then Rook leaned in to press his forehead to his temple. Sword closed his eyes and removed his hand from his knee in order to wrap his arm around his waist. When he commented about how long it took him to realize, Sword had to chuckle. The sound wasn’t condescending; it was soft, fond.

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He rubbed Rook’s mid-back in a circular motion, shifting at the waist to better face him. He pressed their foreheads together and continued to listen to his friend. Sword remembered very well when Rook was so low he couldn’t see straight. It was a chore to make him get up and get to work, and unless Sword was on him about eating, Rook tended to go without like he simply forgot. Syracuse had never felt so useless in his life. He’d pampered him, coddled him, screamed at him, shook him, but nothing changed until Rook himself realized what he was doing. Not just to himself, but to Sword, and other people who cared.

“Damn right there is,” Sword agreed firmly, giving Rook’s torso a one-armed squeeze, "So don’t you ever ********’ leave me behind, white boy. I will track you down, dead or alive, and bust your balls so hard…”

He couldn’t imagine living life without him.

Rook pulled away then, and Sword followed suit. He fanned the air in front of his face in an attempt to breathe something other than tar and tobacco, then spied the same security guard Rook did. Oh s**t~ Hide, hide, hide! Sword laughed then and shoved Rook lightly with a muttered ‘dumbass’.

To his surprise, Rook decided to walk away from a potential throwdown and decided to take his cigarette outside. Well then. Sword raised an eyebrow at that. Rook was surprising him left and right that night…

“Sure,” He said quietly, watching him collect enough courage to brave the cold on his lonesome.

He’d have invited himself out alongside him, but since he mentioned giving Elessa a call, he figured he wanted to have some privacy. Fine by him, so long as he didn’t lose a nut to the cold. He’d rather not spend Christmas in the hospital while Rook was treated for hypothermia. Besides, if he played his cards right, he might get a little something extra for Christmas~

He clapped his hand into Rook’s when it was offered and rose to his feet. He settled his hands on his hips and surveyed Rook momentarily. He grinned right back at him when he spoke of returning in time for his song.

“Thazz right, my man~”

He sang amidst a chuckle. Rook would be missing out on some high class s**t if he ducked out for too long! He touched Rook’s upper arm lightly, face suddenly serious.

“You can do it, Rook. It’s not that cold out. Oh, and don’t get kidnapped. ‘Cause that’ll seriously put a damper on that celebration thing we’re doing.”

Sword grinned and pressed Rook in the direction of the exit.

“I won’t get onstage till I see your fat a** back inside, so make it quick; the crowd is dying for me to pleasure them.”

Truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to sing just yet. He knew Rabbit wanted him to sing the song, but he wasn’t much in the mood for something that upbeat anymore. He was feeling more… grounded, after talking to Rook. Not down exactly, but more in that stratosphere than cheery. Calm. Mellow.

Contemplative.

He patted Rook on the a** in a more friendly gesture than sensual one as his temporary goodbye and then turned to grab his forgotten beer on the stairs. He leaned against the stage, took a sip, and glanced around the bar-goers to pass the time.

He wanted to sing something that would explain how he felt without having to come out and say it with his own words. That never worked out well for him, anyhow. He would just struggle, get frustrated, and drop it in the end.

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[IFTK Guide]

X
X
X

Wraith realized his mistake as soon as he had made it. He’d played right into Lucien’s hand. How could he have been so arrogant? And now Lucien knew all of his information.

No matter.

“Well played Lucien,” the businessman said standing from his chair.

Wraith always prided himself on being able to intimidate without all the show. He was good with words and sharp looks. He should have known Lucien wouldn’t fall for his tricks. So he was to pull out the old bag of trickery, join Lucien in his tactics.

“So I’ll play along,” he pulled himself up to his full height. Wraith was a large man, standing at a lean six feet two inches. He was quite the figure, especially in his tailor-made, fit to kill suit. He looked at Lucien, his gaze hardening.

“Men such as myself have insurance,” he said, unmoving from his spot, “You see…Well let us just say, you, Lucien Serbanescu, would not want anything unfortunate to befall me, at least not by your own hands.”

“Now about these lessons in intimidation. I have sat and listened, playing the role of dutiful student. But see now the audience will become bored, seeing the same motions played out by a new body. They expect me to follow my teacher’s example. I want neither a bored audience nor a disappointed teacher,” he was beginning the circle around Lucien now, “But let us bypass the impasse and move straight to the end.”

He kept silent as he walked around Lucien.

“Every man has their breaking point. You are correct in that, it’s just a matter of finding weakness, perhaps not even that. You, for example, your weakness is very obviously our friends from the frozen streets of St. Petersburg. You are not so easily cloaked as you think. Money makes you uncomfortable. Not the money itself but what it represents,” he said, now closing the space that exist between the two men, “You think you’re so concealed beneath those lovely eyes and red locks of yours. But you, my dearest Russian, are no more hidden than I am.”

Lucien had spoken of tortures. Physical pain was nothing Wraith found intimidating. He was sure there were agonies he could not even imagine. Such things were interesting to Wraith but at this particular junction, they were of no consequence. But he couldn’t help thinking to himself how much this increased Lucien’s already high score of significance. Lucien’s knowledge of torture would be something worth learning about, but at a later date, of course.

“You speak of torture and the like but I have no fear of physical pain, in fact, one could say I embrace it.”

Wraith planned to deliver a performance to the nonexistent audience, and now was his debut. He pushed his body against Lucien, pushing the smaller man back until he reached the nearest wall.

“True, you do not scare so easily but I wonder what goes on in the pretty little head of yours when you think of the terrible things that could happen to those so few that you hold dear?” Wraith said, his seemingly golden eyes flashing.

Oh yes, Wraith knew all about Lucien’s contacts in Whistle City. Especially the police Commissioner. He wasn’t the most careful of men…and well, Wraith had been watching Lucien since the day he’d given him the information to contact Venna.

“Now let’s be honest, neither of us is the type to scare easily but surely you know the kind of man I am and what an imagination I have. Creativity is one the sharpest weapons I have in my arsenal. Rich men with the powers of ingenuity are dangerous,”
Wraith placed his hands on either side of Lucien’s head, bringing their faces closer to one another.

“See I did listen, invading your space, do tell me if I’m not doing it quite right,” he said with a smirk, “Now, you see, you may now possess knowledge of what I know but I assure you I have something you may need, or want. Yes, I would require you to throw in your lot with me but the rewards would be ever more bountiful for you. Let us say that I could help you disappear, as well as that lovely Commissioner of yours. Or perhaps anything else you should need. Think about it Lucien, you could cut away from those awful Russians and live the simple life far away.”

Wraith was entirely serious. If Lucien would comply with his wishes, be his inside man, the businessman would reward him more than handsomely. He needed and in into the syndicate and this was how he was going to do it, with any luck.

“I am quite the fool for a happy ending,” he said removing a hand from the wall to brush aside a strand of Lucien’s hair before grazing his cheek bone, “And all I want is for everyone to get their ending.”

Wraith could feel the tension of the dénouement mounting between the two males.

“So what will it be? Take me up on my offer or walk away, unscathed wondering what would have happened if you’d gone with me.”

“I realize, of course that you still require convincing of my abilities. Then I challenge you, Lucien Serbanescu,” he said cupping Lucien’s chin in his hand, “Test me and I will rise up. Not only do I vow to meet anything you throw at me with mildest acceptance but I give you my loyalty. Such a thing may be foreign and useless to you but I assure you that Wraith Cross does not go back on his word, nor does he betray those in his employ. After all, my word is my honor, and as a gentleman, I cannot allow my honor to be called into question.”

Once again Wraith was quite serious. He was a man of great pride, what better to have pride in than one’s best attribute. And yes, loyalty too. He didn’t gain his power by running around stabbing everyone in the back. A businessman had to have respect as well as steel nerve if he wanted to get ahead.

“And now I ask one thing of you simply,” he said, his eyes roaming Lucien’s features, a hand tracing Lucien’s own jaw, “If you leave tonight, don’t walk away. How are you to know my true usefulness if you haven’t even tried me on yet?”

[IFTK Guide]

"Good night, Jocef."

Sari leaned against a wall a few feet from Jocef's office door, watching the sheriff depart. He took a moment to himself, praying fervently for the Lord to help Jocef -- and Dyllin -- get a handle on their past demons so they could enjoy the season and start to mend. But healing was something the individual had to work towards, and no amount of counciling would help them through until they mustered up the determination themselves to build a brighter mindset. It was really difficult to be optimistic after so much went wrong, but pessimism and depression caused everything to spiral further and further downward....

Maybe some time with Isaiah would jelp Jocef to see just how much he still had to work for, and how he had to help himself before he could truly be a good role model for his son. Sari wished Jocef could have as much faith in himself as other people had in him.

Sighing softly, the minister checked his watch; evening was already progressing into night, and he was suddenly feeling the slight fatigue of his early morning and busy day. Maybe he would go ahead and head home -- some quiet time with hot cider and a book was sounding more and more inviting. Once more he felt a dull ache at the thought of his empty house greeting Christmas morning, and he again reminded himself that that wouldn't be the case forever. Besides, he had so much to do tomorrow that he probably wouldn't even notice, and it was less than a week before he visited his family in Connecticut.

Sari intended to say his farewells and wish everyone a Merry Christmas once again, but he spied Elessa and Silas joking and carrying on and decided not to disturb them. He smiled to himself, though, sincerely happy to see Elessa having a good time and Silas relaxing to indulge in the festivities as well. They were a strange sort of complement, those two, and Sari imagined they might become pretty good friends in the long run.

So the minister excused himself quietly, detouring to put Elessa's promised pie on the commissioner's desk and pass out the last few remaining baked goods before slipping out of the precinct. The city wasn't quiet at all; the traffic was terrible and pedestrians crowded the downtown streets to shop and sing Christmas carols, and Sari felt the urge to walk around for awhile before heading home for the night. He decided against it, but he was excited at the prospect of doing that very thing tomorrow evening instead.

He loved Christmas. Just the sight of everyone happy and celebrating made his chest swell with thanksgiving and appreciation.

After sharing farewells with a few of the officers lingering outside the precinct, Sari slipped into his car and headed home, singing cheerfully to his favorite old-fashioned carols.

[IFTK Guide]

Adelaide grunted as she stood up from her low-to-the-ground Camaro, it was late and she should really have showed up earlier....

She turned, looking into the vehicle at her adopted son.
"We'll don't just sit there, come on. We're late and if you want any good food you'd better hurry." She remarked, before shutting her door and turning towards the police headquarters. She still wasn't fully sure she felt at home here, this city... It was less like a city and more like some living sinister entity. Every word, every inflection, they were all seeped in ulterior motives. You had to learn to read people and watch your back. It was exhausting; the only time she got any rest was when she was home with her child. She smiled a bit and looked at the young boy. Even then, however, she worried. If anything were to happen to him... No. She wouldn't let it. Not in a million years.

Adelaide entered the main room of the precinct, greeted to the site of the people who were still here this late. She preferred it this way, she didn't particularly like all the niceties of such a party, and many of the early leavers were less than entertaining. No, she liked the company of a few friends and a beer or eight. Looking around, she spied the Chief and Elessa discussing things and drinking something rather hard it seemed.

She approached in her usual slow walk, even such a menial task causing her to breathe heavily. As she neared she called to the larger of the two men, Elessa.

"You, muscles, grab me a chair will you, and while you’re at it fetch me something to drink. Make it hard, I'll need it to wash away the distaste of today's trial." She sighed, looking at her son as she did. "Make that two chairs, if you’re strong enough." She patted her son's head lovingly.
"Why don't you run along now and get something to eat?" The older woman gave him a gentle push towards the food, then turned to address the men.

"Now, how has your party been, Chief? Have you really managed to forget the sins of the city, or is everyone just putting on a smile and secretly dying on the inside?" She questioned rather darkly. It really shouldn't have come out of her mouth at a time like this. But sometimes the city... it just festers inside until it brings out the worst in people.

"I apologize, Cheri." She nodded a bit.
"When you see the worst this city has to offer daily, you tend to become cynical." She turned her head to watch Adam.
“We all hold on to the one thing we hold dear, and dread the day that this god forsaken city tries to wrench it from our dying hands….” She said, absent-mindedly, head filling with the motherly worries of her child's future.

[IFTK Guide]

Ｄａｔｅ

Thursday, December 24th

Ｔｉｍｅ

Evening ー＞ Night

Ｗｅａｔｈｅｒ

Hot - Warm - Nice - Cool - Cold - Freezing - Nuclear Winter
Sunny - Windy - Cloudy - Humid - Foggy - Snowing - Thundering - Tornado - Hurricane - Nuclear War - Apocalypse

Ｅｖｅｎｔｓ

Holiday - Christmas Eve - December 24th

ONGOING - RED MOON CHRISTMAS PARTY AT WHITE NOISE
CLOSING - POLICE CHRISTMAS PARTY AT WCPD