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Vicious Sex Symbol

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ȻȺϻɆяѺЙ ȘȾΦΩɆ
׺°”˜`”°º×ROOKIE׺°”˜`”°º×


One thing I look forward to in life
Cameron listened to his chief speak and nodded professionally. "Understood sir, Please for give my...wie Sie sagen, immaturity." Cam took the files and walked out of the office, looking at them with a critical eye. "He must think I'm an idiot." the boy said outloud. "Everyone knows that Colonal Mustard was killed with the Candelstick in the library by professor Plum. And Cookie Monster always steals the cookies from the cookie jar." he then proceeded to sit at one of the places where a civilian would write out a complaint and write in explicit detail what went down and how it went down with his reasonings based on the reports given to him. "This is a mockery of my intelligence." he grumbled before finishing up not thirty minutes after he was given the files and got up to knock on the cheif's office door.

Is when I put the bastards to death


UntamedRain

((wie Sie sagen,=how do you say
Cameron speaks five languages fluently, he had to do something with his extra time.
Edited))
b o n n a b y's avatar

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filler filler filler filler ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
filler filler fil° & it's!! just ﹕the __beginning. ██ ██ ██ ██ xxxxxxxx
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler EVEN THOUGH I KNOW, I SUPPOSE I'LL SHOW all my c o o l and c o l d like an old job
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE!

filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler Then someone will say, "what is lost can never be saved."

xxx¤ with Dom / Adrian. xxx¤ hallway of HQ xxx¤ stone-faced.zzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                          One short hour required more energy than Crevan ever recalled having. He felt as if his insides had become his outsides, so entirely reversed and exposed that even changing his clothes required long, steeling breaths. An ache pulsed in his chest and threat of a migraine did little to improve upon his mood. There had never been any time allowed to reflect on his past - Crevan had firmly given away all rights for redemption and hope. Sold his soul to corruption and death and cold hard cash. Misery was his favorite companion when he was tossing back fragile martinis or interpreting the freckles of his latest, nameless, faceless bed partner. He did not remember: for to look backward was to face a truth he desperately shunned. Stalling had been possible; keeping one step ahead of the inevitable was his trademark, his golden ticket to success. The police couldn't touch him. They could barely catch a whiff of his scent, let alone track him down and ---

                          "What a load that is... Lost my edge? More like lost my mind. God damn it all to..."

                          --- his teeth clicked together as his sixth cigarette of the day toppled into his lap. Cursing softly, he groped blindly for the fallen, unlit white stick. His car cruised along a highway, heading for the other side of Chicago. Finding the precious nicotine vessel, he replaced it between his lips and reached for a silver encased Zippo, a permanent a feature as the steering wheel in the sleek black BMW. Personally, he preferred a Jag or something with a little more muscle, but BMW's were common enough to avoid unwarranted attention. Smoke filtered through the window he'd cracked open, but the smell and taste did it's job and a trickle of relief seeped through a dark pit of tension. 'Not so untouchable, I guess...' Definitely, given his surprise encounter with a much loathed, much abhorred guest. Crevan's hands tightened around the leather steering wheel and yet kept the car on a smooth track for the Merchant's HQ. The young Boss had ordered them all in. Worst timing in the world, and it was only the first day of the new year. He could only hope that today, somehow, wasn't an example of what was to come. 'I always thought it'd be a miracle if I lived to thirty...'

                          A corner bakery served to distract him for five minutes. Fresh loaves, stacks of muffins, croissants and pastries. It was hard to think of everything while submitting to sensory overload. The owner had a knack for coffee as well and imported beans from around the world. Something about South American cocoa... with a take-away bag (he had no idea when he'd last eaten, considering) and a fresh mug of rather unpatriotic Joe, Crevan was once again on course for the Merchant's headquarters. A bank, of all things, presented a lovely front of innocent, necessary business, while a nest of snakes laid quietly behind the scenes. Crevan had no sense of gang loyalty. He had belonged to a gang once, a term to be taken in the most literal sense when applied to his case. He had been a thing. An item. A belonging. Someone else's property. From the age of eight until nearly fifteen, he had known nothing of independence and freedom. Now, he lived in a land that had founded itself on those very concepts. So what if he was an illegal immigrant? There was no one, no way, no how, which could send him back to the furthest south shores of Africa. He had been born there, tenderly raised there, but it was not his home. His heart rested where it should: inside his chest, without any attachment or means of ensnarement. How else had he survived fourteen years with barely a one to call a friend, no family and heaps of enemies of every conceivable background? Luck, for one. Pure, unequivocal luck.

                          And by being loyal to no one, but himself.

                          The low-riding BMW slid into an empty parking slot within the garage outside HQ. Cutting off the engine and pocketing the key after locking up, Crevan and his late breakfast headed for the entry door. Silvery spirals of smoke looped around his cheeks in a thin trail with each puff on his cigarette (7th? 9th?). His hair was pulled into a severe looking ponytail, higher up than his previous bun from earlier on, but for some reason he still worn the oriental hair sticks. Perhaps he liked them, perhaps it was a waste to throw them away. His brain was stuck in a slow tail-spin and it was anyone's guess when he might right its course, less give way to some inconvenient meltdown. Wouldn't that be a laugh? Man of steel and shadow, danger and death, found having an epileptic fit in the middle of urban Chicago. Committed to insane asylum. Front page news, definitely.

                          At least he didn't look the part of a madman. A high-collared, wrap-around silk coat, rather Chinese in appearance, draped over his too-thin frame, with sprays of silvery chrysanthemums decorating the black folds along the shoulders and sleeves. Tailored gray slacks fit his long legs and narrow black leather loafers. His eye-patch was back, tied at the back of head beneath the ponytail. There was no appearance that the snowy weather concerned him. Rigid, sweeping beauty, austere as the Alps during the dead of winter - that was the impression he made whilst making his way through the bank. Heads turned, but no one spoke until, as all gossip is had, the subject of the public's staring was out of earshot. Crevan had every intention of remaining in his room until the meeting began - let someone fetch him when he was needed. Yet that plan was run aground as he rounded a corner and discovered his path blocked.

                          A shrewd, displeased eye made short work of gauging the scene. From the messy spill on the floor to the bare back of another red haired man to the staring face of Adrian Moretti, nothing was missed. Crevan slowed, a mask of irritability on his keen features. "...Are we meeting already?" He asked, gaze directly upon the young, fiery, spoiled brat whom he considered his employer. Another laughable feat. The boy had refused his 'services' several times in the beginning. Crevan had adjusted his offer and came away successful upon impressing the boy with a new idea. Blackmail was just one of his various responsibilities, and, despite Adrian's doubts, the Merchant's could not fall behind the Syndicates now they could they? Every skilled hand on deck, and so forth. Even so, Crevan only took orders from him. The man's companion, however...

                          A single exposed optic flicked in Dom's direction. Bare chest aside, there was no indication that Crevan found the man remotely interesting. With a slow lift of his brow and a soft huff, Crevan's mouth jerked into a small, unimpressed smile. "Finally, no more of that dreadful perfume... An improvement I pray you'll keep." He remarked, dryly. That was all the attention Crevan spared the disrobed "muscle" and his gaze landed on Adrian for a second time. After a short pause, he hefted the bag he held, bearing the famous logo of the bakery he'd visited. "I bought more of the coffee brand you prefer. I'll have some brewing... unless you would rather have something else...?" A pointed look went to the soaked, familiar coat situated over Dom's shoulder, dripping more liquid onto the floor.


xxxxxxx
                          xxxCREVANtheREVOLVER

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UntamedRain's avatar

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                                            'I bet you were.' Dom thought when the man before him, his boss, commented that he'd always been to hot to handle. For a moment his vivid imagination took over, causing his body to heat up a bit. It didn't help that he noted the way Adrian was looking at his chest, all of which caused the feeling of heat to creep up towards his cheeks. 'No. Dom would never blush.' With that firmly in mind, he smiled fully at the boss, eyes seeming to twinkle with good humor as the suit jacket landed over his shoulder, "Awww come on, boss. It was a accident. I could need skin graphs after that scalding hot coffee scorched my chest, and you're going to make me get your suit jacket cleaned?" Blatantly exaggerating things, something Dom knew his brother was famous for.
                                            As those words left his lips another man appeared, and he nearly froze in place, unable to to talk at all. Partly from the fact that this man was attractive as well, in a different way then Adrian, but no less potent. He was also unable to speak because of the words the man said. 'I forgot to wear Doms cologne.' Were the horrified thoughts churning inside his mind as he somehow managed to all but work on auto pilot and cast a grin at Crevan, another name he knew from the pictures attached to numbers in his phone.

                                            "I aim to please." Dom said to Crevan and kissed the air at him. The fact that the real Dom was straight had never stopped him from in some cases almost seeming to flirt with other guys, but it wasn't really that he was flirting it was more he was comfortable in his own skin to the point he would tease without worrying about what others might think of him because of it. As for the fake Dom... well he found it hard to flirt with anyone, and it was shear hell on him as he tried to be his brother when all he wanted to do was blush, duck his head and stare at the ground.

                                            As much as he wished to rush to Adrians office, wherever that was, he didn't dare however. It was not something he could allow himself to be bothered by, or could allow anyone else here know he was vastly uncomfortable being without his shirt in front of these two men. It was far to early in the game to be screwing up now. Forgetting the cologne was enough screw ups for today, and he hoped to God he would manage to prevent the constant urge to blush from happening. 'One blush and I'm doomed.

                                            To distract himself from all this, he glanced about before raising a brow, "Where is everyone?" his tone curious. He wasn't certain who everyone was since there was no way for him to know if his brother had all the Merchant members on his phone or not. Dom prayed he did though or there was no way he would know their names himself, and he wasn't certain how far he could play his amnesia before suspicions began to happen.

                                            [********]

                                            ▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

                                            Merchant HQ
                                            Adrian, Crevan,
                                            *tongue tied*
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Adrian ☼ Moretti
The Leader of the Merchants.
x x x[/white] Io sono in controllo. x x x ● ● ● ●


                                    Adrian not happy in the slightest that his Gucci suit was covered in latte. It was clear on the man's features that he couldn't give two damns about the possible burns that Dom could have recieved from the scorching beverage. Did that man wear suits worth over two grand? No. Adrian didn't think so. The physical eye candy was almost enough to spark forgiveness within the mafia leader though, so instead he just smirked and finally pried his eyes away from those sculpted abs belonging to the other. "I think in the end, I am still going to be more worried about my suit then your skin, Dom," He let out a hollow chuckle.

                                    He opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the arrival of one of (who he considered to be) his finest employees. Adrian hesitated before clearing his throat, "The meeting will take place in the lounge area. I have no idea who has arrived yet considering I merely got here myself not too long ago...and just received a wonderful greeting by Dom," Adrian ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a small sigh. He would have to give the Muscle the address for a specific dry cleaners that his family preferred.

                                    Adrian frowned at Crevan's words about the lack of Dom's cologne. Since when was the last time his friend had forgotten to wear that overbearing trash? Either way he silently agreed with the pole-thin red head that the lack of the stench was certainly an improvement. Adrian stared at the bag Crevan held up and allowed another smile to grace his lips, "AH, grazie mille! I could use a fresh cup of coffee since my latte is...well...." He indicated with an open hand towards the spill on the floor, "Always so thoughtful, Crevan. It's a wonder why I never hired you sooner..." The mafia leader began to lead the way towards the sitting room within the headquarters, trusting the other two to follow him.

                                    The sitting lounge was a nice place to relax. Adrian rarely hung around in this particular area but he was impressed with himself for investing in such nice furniture. He had a peculiar taste for expensive furniture and was adamant in bringing a little more of Italy to the Headquarters. He paid close detail from everything from the original oil paintings hanging on the walls to the upholstery on the couches. Having a cozy common room for his mafia brothers to relax in was just as important as leaving a memorable impression on what sort of man Adrian Moretti truly was.

                                    Adrian turned his attention towards Dom and merely said, "You should probably get a shirt on. If you don't have any here, you may as well help yourself to one of my spares in my room. Just...don't spill anything on it, understand?" He slipped into the kitchen area to begin preparing the coffee machine regardless if Crevan said that he would do it instead. The man half expected the other to bring the coffee over so they could just make the damned stuff together.

                                    "Crevan, I hate to ask this of you, but I haven't had a chance to run to my vehicle to fetch my smokes. Did you have one I could steal?" Adrian asked smoothly while changing the filter in the coffee machine. His mouth was already watering in anticipation for this delicious pot of java that hadn't even been started yet. The hired man knew exactly what pleased the young mafia leader and the gait which Adrian held himself with resembled that of an excited youthful man.










                                    x x x Mi dubito ogni giorno. x x x● ● ● ●
                                    Location: HQ
                                    Company: Dom and Crevan.
                                    OOC: xx.

                                    x x Mi salvare dalle mie paure? x x● ● ● ●
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                                        ⊱ ██ ▌║ːː ❛ E R I C M I L O S ▬▬▬▬ THE MERCHANT'S LAWYER
                                        ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

                                        쏟아지는 빗방울을 피해갈 순 없는거죠 비 몇방울 맞는다고 어떻게 되지는 않아 괜찮아 괜찮아 오늘웃고 오늘울고 오늘살고 오늘죽고 우리는 언제나 오늘을 살아요
                                        ▌⊱║LOCATION; merchant's HQ감자▌⊱║WITH; sadly, alone... 감자▌⊱║THOUGHTS; food, food, food...





                                                  Bzzzt-!

                                                  Eric's body was dangerously hanging around the edge of the couch, snoozing away when his phone went off, alerting its owner that he have received a text message. Surprised by the sudden noise, the man jolted awake but still recovering from his dream, he yelled out, "I didn't eat the cake!" before he fell over the side and crash down onto the carpet floor. A dull thud and a painful groan later, Eric now found himself staring up at the ceiling that was... rather expensive looking? Wait. Before that, what was up with this headache? He couldn't have possibly hit his head that hard. But the imaginary train couldn't even set off from its platform for his attention was quickly taken away by the second buzzing sound. Not even bothering to sit up, he reached his hand up towards the surface of the coffee table in order to find the villain that rudely woke him up. Moments later, the tip of his fingers felt the smooth surface of something and once again, it vibrated away. Aha! Finally. Retrieving back with the device in hand, Eric let out a long yawn as his fingers lazily unlocked the screen and the text message immediately popped up. Noticing the sender's name being 'Adrian', oh of course. Who would ever text him this early in the morning? No one- except for this man.

                                                  After accomplishing the mission of reading the content, Eric tossed the phone onto the sofa and stretched his stiff body out but paused in the middle of the action. The ceiling had came back into view along with the previous question of what and why. Of course, the headache still remained but he was feeling a bit better than before. Nevertheless, pain was pain. Irritating pain if he might add. Plus, the complete exhaustion. Really, he felt like he ran a marathon the day before or something along the lines... then he realized another thing. A scary thing. He couldn't quite recall what happened before he ended up here. The last thing he could remember was being at his cousin's place, having a blast with his buddies. Did he panic? Not quite. After all, this wasn't the first time he ended up in a situation like this. If he was with his friends, he would've become drunk sooner or later- which would explain the exhaustion that was certainly from the idiotic things he would've done and the annoying headache. So there was no need to press the panic button a million times. Rubbing his temple in attempt to somehow help his recall, it wasn't long before out of no where, another memory flashed right before him. There had been a fight. Well, to be more exact, the other was extremely mad at him for some reason. No. He exactly knew the reason. His cousin had caught him partying at his place when he was never allowed to. It was one of the terms of agreement before the other granted his stay. From there, everything else was too predictable. But still. That heartless b*****d kicked him out...!

                                                  Though, being angry was far out from the picture. Eric knew he had done something wrong and had gotten punished for it. What can he do? In his case, shrug it off and move on. Feeling quite accomplished with remembering what had happened couple of hours ago, for a second, Eric had forgotten what kind of a situation he was in. "God, why am I so fantastic." Smiling happily and actually complementing himself, he didn't even feel embarrassed or worried about losing a place to stay. The happiness, however, was brutally shot down by the current scenario he put himself in. He was somewhere he didn't quite know and he should probably leave now to go to the headquarters for whatever meeting they were going to have. And for his safety as well. Having to wait patiently on the sidelines, at last, the question was given its chance to poke its face into the man's mind.

                                                  What the hell was he going to do.

                                                  The smile swiftly disappeared but only to be replaced with a carefree look. First of all, the meeting. To be honest, he was always late so being late this time wasn't going to be much of a surprise. Time to skip to the next problem. Where was he. Carefully looking around the room he was in, Eric wasn't sure if he knew this place or not. The place was somewhat familiar but at the same time no, not really. The furniture and the paintings on the wall was screaming at him of their expensive origins, and clearly anyone could tell a single piece of them would worth more than your average citizen's total yearly income. Thankfully, the thing was with these sort of cases, he always picked a place to crash of either his friends or people he simply considered close. Well, he could certainly narrow down the list of the people and guess who's place he decided to barge into this time... On the flip side, he didn't want to really. Because where's the fun in that? None. "Well, time to explore-" A sudden growl from his own stomach cut him off. Letting out a soft chuckle, he rubbed his loving tummy that never missed a single meal. Well, there had to be a change in plans then. "Mm... food first then explore later." Nodding in agreement with his own decision, Eric was back on his feet, picking up his phone from the lavish couch and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jean. Heading out of the room, not to his surprise, the hall way too was full of extravagant and colorful objects with grand price tags hanging off from the end of each and every one of them in his eyes. As he walked on by in search of food and answers, he came to a brief stop at in front of this one particular painting that reminded him of Italy. Actually, most of the paintings he came across had hints and references of that land of pasta and wine. However, the thought was short lived as another demanding growl came from his tummy. Yes, food was his first priority right now so thinking had to be done later. Getting his body to move once again, he wasn't sure where he was going but not a single worry could be found for whatever surprise that next corner had in store, he didn't really care.








                                        뒤를 돌아보지마요 돌아보긴 이른거죠 넘어지면 좀 어때요 피가나도 괜찮아요 다시 또 새살이 돋아나 아무렇지도 않을꺼에요 이음악이 멈추어도 당신들은 춤을춰요
                                        ▌⊱║OOC; idk. just. ... ''orz
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Lonely Darling

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ᴄᴏᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀᴛᴇs: Office -> Home
ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ(s): Cameron -> Alone
ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ: I'm to old for this.

● ● ▅ ● ● ● ▅ ▅ ● ● ● ● ● ▅ ▅ ▅ ●

ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ

          ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ

            ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ǫᴜɪᴛ

● ▅ ● ● ▅ ▅ ▅ ● ● ● ▅ ● ▅ ▅ ●

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴀsʏ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴀs ʏᴇsᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ!



                                              Engel was raising the tea glass to his lips when the knock came. Mentally inside his head he cursed, outwardly though he simply said, "Come in." Based on the newness of the steps he figured that it had to be the Rookie, which confused him for a minute until he turned around and noticed the folders in his hand. "Done already I see. He neither sounded pleased nor disappointed by this. His thoughts he kept firmly to himself, held under rigid control. Setting his tea down he approached Cameron. Holding his hand out he took the folders, ignoring any words he might have to say, as Engel began to read the contents of the folder. He did so thoroughly and in complete silence. Once he had finished reading he lifted his gaze and stared at Cameron for long moments, his gaze cold and unrelenting before he turned away and set the folders in his neat stack of finished cases. Going back to his tea he lifted the cup, back still to the boy, and stared out his window. A few more moments of silence past and finally Engel spoke. "Mova Jewelry was robbed. No witnesses, no finger prints, not even a miss placed hair. The items that were stolen were pricey, but not to pricey. You are now assigned this case. Everything you need to know is in that file on the desk. Take it and get to work." came the ordered words.

                                              After he was once more alone in his office, the tense lines of his shoulders eased a bit, a troubled look falling across his features. Before he could take another drink of tea his cell phone began to vibrate on his desk. Sighing he went over to it and looked down and promptly cursed. It was his latest girlfriend for want of a better word, and he used the word girlfriend very loosely. He truly considered ignoring it but a desperate urge to force today from his mind overcame him and he answered it. The second the woman on the other line spoke in her breathy girlish voice Engel was over come with the urge to growl at her to shut up. Swallowing down this urge, he simply listened, only responding when he needed to. When she brought up tonight and the date they had, a muscle in his jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together. Somehow he forced the correct words out of tight lips before they said their goodbyes. Setting the phone down on his desk he began to count to himself, slowly raising the tea to his lips, praying for calm. Once again the tea never made it to his lips and instead he hurled it across the room so it shattered into pieces against the wall he was facing. As the amber liquid dripped from the wall, and his gaze fell on shattered porcelain now on his floor he felt like some one hit him in the gut as it brought back his meeting with Crevan.

                                              With no other thought but getting away in his mind he snatched up his keys and cell before he stormed out of his office, barking out he was going home for the day, and ignored the completely stunned faces of those around him. As he entered the parking garage he fairly jogged to his SUV door, breathing as if he couldn't seem to get a proper breath. Once behind the wheel he forced himself to get some sort of calm, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly to the point of almost pain. Finally able to take his first even breath Engel drove off. For a moment he hesitated on the direction to turn, but in the end he did the right thing and turned towards home.


                                              As Engel pulled into his driveway he was never more happy to live so close to the station. For him it was fairly walkable if ever the need arose. Wasting no time with sitting in the SUV, the enclosed space feeling far to small for him right now, he slipped out of his door and was about to enter his home when he was stopped by Prudence, Liebe happily wiggling in her arms, who fairly leaped into Engels the second they were close enough. Without having to be told Prudence simply gave her hellos and her goodbyes before leaving him in peace. Relaxing slightly he glanced at Liebe who was wiggling and licking at him, and could not force himself to glare at the puppy in reproach. Entering his house he sagged back against the closed door, every line of his body one of a nearly defeated man. Unable to move for a moment he looked about sightlessly as if unsure what to do now that he was home.

                                              Pushing away from the door suddenly, something that startled Liebe a bit, he made his way up the stairs to the second floor where the rooms were, his goal was getting to his. Barely taking note of his surroundings once he entered he set the puppy on his bed, who instantly began to tug at sheets and roll about. Going into his closet he searched around, making a bit of a mess of things as he tried to find where he'd buried it. A few moments passed until he began to back out of his closet not stopping until he dropped down on the edge of the bed. In his hands he held a present, the once red paper now more orange, and the white ribbon wrapped about it yellowed with age. He didn't need to look at the now slightly curled card to know what it said. Engel knew the words he'd written there by heart. They haunted him, reminded him of things best left forgotten. This was his last connection to Crevan and he had to get rid of it. While throwing it away might seem the easier thing to do, Engel knew it wouldn't truly be finished that way. So instead he would make sure he finally delivered it to the man he'd gotten it for all those years ago.

                                              'There will be nothing unfinished lingering to haunt me. Over. All of it over.'
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filler filler filler filler ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
filler filler fil° & it's!! just ﹕the __beginning. ██ ██ ██ ██ xxxxxxxx
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler EVEN THOUGH I KNOW, I SUPPOSE I'LL SHOW all my c o o l and c o l d like an old job
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE!

filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler Then someone will say, "what is lost can never be saved."

xxx¤ with Dom / Adrian. xxx¤ center of HQ xxx¤ stone-faced.zzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                          "Nnhm." Crevan drawled within his throat, holding a scintillating stare upon the larger red head for a static second. His deadpan look withheld his thoughts from any physical expression, but a slight flick of lashes was Crevan's equivalent of an eye roll. Another time, another place, he might have played along. Empty flirtation. There were many aspects to his work and idle teasing had its own niche. Dom's casual, foolhardy seductions were common of the youth, and any lingering confusion Crevan harbored fled in its wake. It was likely that Dom had simply run out of his favorite cologne and hadn't gotten around to replacing it. Or, maybe one of his many conquests had given him something new. Either way, the case was forgotten without hesitation or effort.

                          A graceful inclination followed Adrian's reply. The bag was lowered back to his side, dangling from loose fingertips nearly disclosed by the voluminous folds of Crevan's wrap coat. A slight smile touched Crevan's lips, hard and cruel and very nearly bloodthirsty. As he fell into step behind Adrian, Crevan laughed quietly for a short instance and spoke even quieter. "A promise to gut the city in your honor, I believe, was one reason..." He had been very poetic at the time. His offers had been laced with ideas of torture and terror, examples Crevan had picked up over the years from darker souls than his. He fell silent and passed through the Merchant's central room in the direction of the kitchen. Adrian was already hovering before the coffee machine and so Crevan deposited the coffee beans in easy reach.

                          Setting his bag of pastries aside, he hunted up a fresh mug for Adrian to use, sweeping a strand of hair from his face as he turned withone in hand. Setting that besides the coffee beans, Crevan returned to his coffee and took a slow sip through the lid's opening. At Adrian's request, Crevan's free hand disappeared into the front fold of his coat, rustling through silk lining. From the black fabric he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, some foreign brand with Moraccan stamps, and tapped out a fresh cig. He held it out for Adrian to take, reclining on a nearby counter. "I cannot guarantee it is to your tastes." He remarked, smirking. The young leader was notoriously picky, but Crevan was not so much better. So he spoke lightly, toying with the Italian youngster as he would a younger brother - and it was impossible to tell whether the loose affection was real or false.

                          When his hand was freed of the thin white cigarillo, Crevan pulled his bag toward him and delicately fished out a cinnamon scone. Nibbling at a corner, he located his cellphone from another pocket. As suspected, Luca had yet to reply - standing up the thief hadn't been part of Crevan's plans for the day. Nonplussed by how the young man would react later on, Crevan inspected his calender and then a long list of dated notes. In between bites of scone and coffee sips, the older gang member rapidly formed plans for the coming month. Whatever Adrian had called them in for could be wedged in and his schedule altered, depending. Keeping busy, being kept busy. He couldn't leave himself time, not as temptation crept over him. His surroundings were a haze as he thumb tapped, tapped, clarity found only on the point where his gaze ended. A squeak of teeth reminded him to relax and release his tensions.

                          Release.

                          Crevan's thumb stalled, hesitated in place for several seconds. His vision swam with a threat of long-suppressed emotions and he was forced to take a silent, steadying breath through his nose. The scone was dusty and uncomfortable to chew as his mouth dried out and only a hasty swig dissuaded an urge to choke. Unnerved by the proximity his emotions were to surfacing and breaking his composed state, Crevan turned to stare across the room at where a tv softly relayed the news of the prior night. Flashing police lights and the newswomen were hard to focus on next to a picture of a fallen officer. And so, with no other choice, Crevan shut off his phone and pocketed it. His scheduling, it seemed, would have to wait.


xxxxxxx
                          xxxCREVANtheREVOLVER

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fillU p d a t e s ...fillerfillerfiller



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Shiiduo



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"Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth."


The city of Chicago was bustling with people, merchants shouted their wares and street performers danced in choreographed styles of raw emotion as each tried to out do the other. From men in suits to small children skipping down the street, the people of this city moved en masse as they went on with their boring mundane lives. Whores and Drug dealers could be spotted loitering in dark alleyways and Police walked with purpose as their eyes scanned their surrounding area, causing the lowlifes of the city to look away or draw back into the shadows.
This city, a glowing hot spot, is located in northern Illinois at the south western tip of Lake Michigan. Rich men could afford the housing districts along the lakeside and their buildings stood tall and pristine in the center of the city, in mocking salute to a better life for those below. Most, it seemed, got there not by honesty and hard work but by having the right connections. With unwavering lights the city sits on the St. Lawrence Seaway continental divide at the site of the Chicago Portage, an ancient trade route connecting the Mississippi River and the Great Lakes watersheds. As such it is no wonder that the city held some of the most dangerous criminals to date, their petty squabbling with each other escalating to a full out gang war that lasted years. The normal people of the city tried to ignore the news reports of gunfire and death and more often then naught they would turn a blind eye to anyone who screamed for help from the depths of dark allies.
The normals kept to the brightly lit main streets while those with strength stalked the shadows. Shiiduo spared a grin at that thought as he sat perched in one of the seven junk yards located about the city near the harbor. The yards near the water always held the best stuff and while Shiiduo despised dirt and germs for the most part he could handle getting dirty when it meant discovering treasures thrown away so precariously. With the light of the day fading he quickly stuffed all his new toys on the back of his bike and placed his helmet, which had once been a small tv, onto his head. Making sure everything was in place Shiiduo kicked his bike into gear and nodded proudly at the near silent engine as he took off at reckless speeds towards the warehouse district where an underground bunker kept the Sydicates in moderate comfort and hidden from the public eye




It didn't take him long to get home, having obviously not obeyed any traffic laws and had taken alley ways and back streets, and he didn't waste time by stopping and passing through the wrought iron gates which bared his way. Instead he took his normal rout which was a conveniently paced dumpster near the fence which he used to propel his bike into the air and land smack dab in the middle of a group of large vicious dogs. The dogs where on him in seconds tearing him off the bike and onto the ground where they converged upon him, teeth gleaming and saliva dripping onto the pavement. Swearing silently, Shiiduo tried to fend off the tongues that kept licking him with excitement and tried to push the dogs off him annoyed that they had managed to get him disgustingly disheveled where his sprint to the junk yards had failed to do so. Reaching into his pocket Shiiduo's hand landed on a small palm sized keyboard and tapped in a few commands which caused the small Tv he wore as a helmet to light up and a deafening sound of several voices swearing blared from it's speakers scattering the dogs.
Huffing in annoyance Shiiduo, killed the screen and proceeded to put away his bike, silently mulling over the dogs behavior towards him. When he had first joined the Syndicates he had been wary of the dogs, for he had seen them tear apart trespassers more often then once, and they where often then not ill tempered and vicious. But for some strange reason when Shiiduo had been forced to enter their area they had sort of adopted him. It was weird, he didn't even like animals yet they always saw fit to slobber all over him. His scowl hidden by the Tv on his head Shiiduo lifted the box full of his new toys and headed towards the stairs that lead underground, purposely avoiding the elevators and leaving the dogs whiningly dejectedly behind him.




He made it to his room uninterrupted and set the box down on the floor where he then proceeded to empty and categorize it. Each piece being thoroughly disinfected before dried and placed around his room in and organized fashion. When he was done the box itself was cleaned and deposited into his closet. Shiiduo then proceeded to undress, throwing different garments into different hampers which lined his wall before grabbing a giant white towel and making his way to the bathroom for a much needed shower, uncaring that he walked there completely nude or that his helmet, now placed on the bed, reflected his naked backside as he left the room.
Exactly ten minutes later he walked out, his hair damp and disheveled, as steam billowed out of the shared bath behind him. His skin was pink and scrubbed clean and his wet feet tapped lightly on the floor. He didn't worry about getting his feet dirty for he cleaned and waxed the floor from his room to his bath every day since he moved in and such could be seen when comparing his floor to others, the path completely different colors from the rest. It wasn't often used by others either for he had requested a room deep within the bunker and most often people stuck to the top floors in fear of getting stuck deep within the earth. According to the records he had dug up about the place such an incident had only happened once, way before he was born and he discarded the event from happening again. If it did though Shiiduo had several escape plans ready with emergency packs hidden all throughout the base. It was merely a simple matter of putting them to use.
After he was cleaned and dressed Shiiduo grabbed his helmet and an old laptop screen which he had just found and energetically bolted up the stairs to the cafeteria/dining room/kitchen area where a brightly lit table met him. Placing both items on the table Shiiduo pulled a small tool kit from his pocket and got to work on his helmet. WHen he had found the small TV Shiiduo had tried to get images to appear on the screen while he wore it, but due to the size of the TV's electronics he found it hard pressed to wear it comfortably while keeping the tv operational. This is why the laptop screen was such a find. THe electronics in the screen would give him the room he needed for his head while also responding the the keypad controls that would fit into his pocket. Having been only able to get the screen to flash or the speakers to work so far Shiiduo was determined to make the screen imaging work. He stayed hunched over his new project as the sky outside darkened with the oncoming evening...

Location: Syndicate HQ
Action: Ignoring food for his new toy.



"We are all spirits clad in veils..."
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                  Deiha
                  █│ COME HEREdei-kunlulx{xWATCH THE FLAMEx}x
                  dei-kun deikun ha Dei-kunlul Deiha DEI

                  I like seeing things go up in flames. It makes me feel alive.


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                  This law-abiding citizen bullshit was getting really old really fast. Stupid cops, stupid detectives, stupid justice--stupid police station! If he had his way, he would just blow up the entire place and set fire to all their ugly cars. Not to mention soak their good-for-nothing bodies in gasoline. This whole perky, ditzy optimist act was really starting to get on his nerves. Not to mention how annoying Kalas was. That stuck-up snob thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread just because he was some macho detective. He was an idiot. Tempest, solely known as "Match" by his fellow gang members, as well as those from other gangs, chewed his lower lip in irritation. He traced the burns on his face idly as he walked further into familiar territory, scanning the area carefully. Luckily Mr. Head Detective had gotten into a little accident earlier that day and he'd been able to sneak off to wreak some havoc of his own. Now he was creeping quietly back to the Merchants' headquarters, ready to have a little more fun.

                  A wicked grin split Tempest's lips as he thought of all the possibilities. His favorite of which was finding the muscle of their group and flirting it up a bit. Rather, talking inappropriately at him until he either got annoyed and left or something a little more pleasurable happened. Either way would work for him. However, if that gorgeous hunk of pure godliness wasn't available, there were plenty of other options. Boss man, thief, even the studious little lawyer. Though it was a bit of a stretch to call them family, they were about as close as a bunch of psychopaths could get. They lived together, ate together, laughed together, killed together. How tighter-knit could a group of people get? Silence bonded people in a way blood never could. He licked his lips at the thought, a pleasant shiver running down his spine.

                  It took about half a second of reaching the headquarters' front door for Tempest to burst inside and throw his arms up at his sides. "Hello, lovelies!" He yelled to the seemingly empty house. When he got no reply, his huge grin fell into a defeated pout. "Well good evening to all you, too." He muttered, playing with his ponytail. With a roll of his eyes, he simply plopped down on the floor, no more than three feet in front of the front door, and crossed his legs. It would be a waste of energy to go looking for people in this godforsaken building. Right now he wanted relief from his boredom and someone to relay all his earlier antics to. "Hey, Dom!" He yelled, flipping down on his back. "I think I'm dying! May need CPR~!" He trailed off with his signature demented giggle, stretching his body out to relieve some built-up tension.

                  Deikun
                  Dei
                  dei

                  dei-kunlul DeiDe deilulCAN YOU FEEL THEBURNINGTORMENT
                  xx━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━xx
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                      Gabriel glanced anxiously at the contents of the purple polka-dotted backpack that currently contained everything that Isabella was going to have for the night - well, at least, to bring with her. He didn't know how long the meeting was going to take tonight; he was supposed to have dinner with a potential business investor and discuss options, and he didn't know if that was going to take a particularly long time, or a short time. Such meetings could last anywhere from about thirty minutes to multiple hours, depending on the client, and he hated that it had been scheduled in the evening. He didn't like leaving Isabella anywhere late, but at least he had one babysitter that he trusted, which was immense in itself. The thing was that it didn't quite matter how many times he had left Isabella in the capable care of Burke's mother - despite being relatively good friends with Burke (although Gabriel sometimes had doubts that anyone really considered him a friend, but then he thought that might be the bitter divorced husband speaking in him) he still got anxious about it all. There wasn't a lot that he didn't get nervous about when it involved his daughter.

                      "Daddy, this one too!" The blonde girl demanded, holding up another coloring book - the third one that she had ordered be put into the backpack, but Gabriel didn't particularly mind, because at least they all fit. "Okay, okay, that one too." He responded with an arched brow, tucking the princess-themed activity book into the backpack. He was reaching for the zipper to pull it shut when Isabella came sprinting out of the living room with a picture in her hands. "Wait, wait! I drew this for Mrs. Basil!" She told him, and Gabriel smiled fondly at her. She normally drew pictures for the woman whenever she stayed, because Gabriel liked to tell her in advance when she was going to be with a different person; he hated to think of his own parents, suddenly placing him in the care of a nanny and leaving him upended at home. He never wanted Isabella to have a similar experience, as long as he could prevent it.

                      "What did you draw, Tinkerbell?" He asked her affectionately, calling her by her favored pet name. She beamed at him in response and clamored into his lap as he moved the backpack off of it. She proudly displayed the piece of computer paper, rapidly beginning to chat on about the purple sky and the kitten she'd drawn and the sun with sunglasses on and the tree with lots of leaves on it, like in spring, but also some snow on the ground. Gabriel nodded along as she went, 'ooh'ing at the appropriate parts and smiling at her when she finished. With a kiss to her forehead, he took the picture and carefully slid it into a folder for safekeeping inside of the sack.

                      "Are we all set?" Gabriel questioned, not sure if there was something else she was going to want to toss in at the last moment. Isabella shook her head 'no' in a rapid fashion, before heading towards the front door to put on her snowboots. He'd already dressed her in her scarf and jacket and multiple layers and hat (it was cold outside, and it positively wouldn't do if she was cold, especially since the pair of them walked practically everywhere). Once her boots were on, Gabriel reached for his tie, adjusting the pale blue fabric. Although he wasn't in a full suit, he still wore a pair of black dress slacks and a white button-up; he didn't dress down particularly often. He pulled on his own warm winter clothing, a peacoat and a wool scarf that he folded and tucked into the jacket.

                      "Let's go! Let's go!" Isabella cheered, stomping her feet and hopping at the doorway. Gabriel held out the backpack towards her and helped her get the straps on, her mittened hands automatically grabbing onto the straps. She began to sing happily, a made up song but a song nontheless, about going to see Mrs. Basil and giving her a pretty drawing and the world was a pretty place and she had a pretty daddy. Gabriel had long gotten used to being called pretty by his daughter; it seemed to be the only adjective she latched onto when describing other things, at least things that she liked. The waffles he had made her for breakfast this morning were pretty, her purple crayon was pretty, and thus, daddy was pretty too.

                      With that, the pair of them were off, Gabriel merely holding Isabella's hand although he sort of wanted to carry her because he didn't like her walking at night, even with his hand clutching hers so tightly that she pouted at him sometimes. Mrs. Basil's home wasn't very far; it was another reason that he liked letting Isabella go there, because it was both close to his house, and close to his business, but was not technically on the territory of either gang. The last point of focus was also a huge bonus, considering that Gabriel did not want her near anything that went down with either of the notorious street gangs, even if he had ended up involved in one of them, even though it was not necessarily by his own making.

                      It didn't take long to get there, although Gabriel's cheeks were pinked with cold by the time they arrived. He sniffed slightly; he hadn't been feeling in tip-top shape the pat few days, and desperately hoped that he wasn't coming down with something that would get Isabella sick, too. So, in that aspect, it was probably beneficial for him to be away from her for a little while... His head gave a dull ache, also a constant feature of the past few days, and he let out a soft sigh as he massaged his temples. After the meeting tonight, he'd have to work on a few plans and long-term investment establishments for a few clients, and then he would be able to take a break from the tedious amounts of paperwork that the mid-month time required from him.

                      "You may go ahead and knock, Isabella." He told the little girl as they neared the front door. She let go of his hand with a happy cheer and practically sprinted to the front door of Burke's home, Gabriel's own footsteps not far behind her as he increased his stride slightly to keep up with her energetic steps. The little girl raised her first and rapped her knuckles against the door in a special pattern that she had made up because she had to have a secret code. Gabriel stifled a subdued yawn and waited patiently for someone to answer the door, absentmindedly carding his fingers through the bottom part of Isabella's hair which was not hidden beneath the hat.
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                                        ⊱ ██ ▌║ːː ❛ E R I C M I L O S ▬▬▬▬ THE MERCHANT'S LAWYER
                                        ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

                                        쏟아지는 빗방울을 피해갈 순 없는거죠 비 몇방울 맞는다고 어떻게 되지는 않아 괜찮아 괜찮아 오늘웃고 오늘울고 오늘살고 오늘죽고 우리는 언제나 오늘을 살아요
                                        ▌⊱║LOCATION; somewhere in the city감자▌⊱║WITH; mr. gray-lover-gabriel 감자▌⊱║THOUGHTS; OHMYGODIT'SGABRIEL. wait, who is that little girl?!





                                                  How long has it been? Eric had no idea. All he cared about at the moment was the fact that he have finally finished his perfect snowman. It had everything any other snowman would have- two black button eyes, a carrot nose and a big smile made from carefully picked out pebbles along with two random tree branches that stuck out from both sides, representing its arms. Of course, he didn't forget the hat. Though, it wasn't one of the metal buckets. No, it was a baseball cap Eric had picked up at some store. But there was still something missing... After a while of careful examination, he realized, where the hell was that pair of sunglasses? Shuffling through his jacket's pocket, it was just moments later that he have found what he was looking for. Smiling brightly, he unfolded the glasses only to gently put them on his creation. Taking a step back, he put his hands on his hips and sighed happily, content with his marvelous work. It was a simple snowman with the black, white socks baseball cap and the light, pinkish colored pair of sunglasses... On the second thought, he'll just take the sunglasses back. Simply plucking it off from the lump of snow, he put them on for himself and saw the world literally in a different light. That served him as a distraction from admiring his work farther more, the man merely looking around while amusing himself with this new pinkish world. That's when he realized it was already evening. And from the looks of it, it was almost past dinner! Gasping- maybe a little too loudly- he covered his mouth with his hands, unable to believe that he lost track of dinner! How could he!

                                                  But there was something else, something far more greater than dinner. From the corner of his eye, he has caught someone extremely familiar and possibly even consider them as one of his closest friend. Turning his head to see more clearly, oh indeed it was someone he very much liked. It was mister all-so-serious-Gabriel. In seconds dinner ceased to exist while Eric smiled happily like a kid, who had just found a secret treasure hidden somewhere. Inhaling a whole lot of air, he was about to shout out to the man but instead of a name, he ended up coughing out some gibberish for he have witnessed something unimaginable. After having to seen whatever he saw, he actually had to support himself by leaning against the snowman. Really, it was that shocking. Maybe even more shocking than the fact that ketchup was once sold as medicine. Recovering from the long cough, Eric looked back up, stared at the other with wide eyes, who apparently was with this adorable little creature and even though he still couldn't get himself to believe it they almost seemed like... father and daughter. With the ever so shocked look on his face and he attempted to connect those two individuals together. In the end, all his mind told him was, "an error has occurred. Please reboot the system."

                                                  Then another scene came by, causing Eric to suddenly laugh at his silly assumptions. Seeing that tiny bundle of joy run up to someone's door, he thought he had everything figured out- until the single question entered his mind. When did Gabriel ever babysit? The smile that has returned to his lips was quick to be wiped away and not wasting any more time, Eric was off, sprinting towards the blonde. Upon arrival, all he could do was slap a hand on Gabriel's shoulder for support as he bent over to catch his breath. Even for Eric, playing around in the snow for hours on end and then running down two blocks was just too tiring. Or maybe he was getting a bit too old... No, he refused to believe that. After a moment, Eric finally lifted his face up and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "when did you start babysitting?"








                                        뒤를 돌아보지마요 돌아보긴 이른거죠 넘어지면 좀 어때요 피가나도 괜찮아요 다시 또 새살이 돋아나 아무렇지도 않을꺼에요 이음악이 멈추어도 당신들은 춤을춰요
                                        ▌⊱║OOC; (/shufflesaway)
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filler filler filler filler ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
filler filler fil° & it's!! just ﹕the __beginning. ██ ██ ██ ██ xxxxxxxx
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler EVEN THOUGH I KNOW, I SUPPOSE I'LL SHOW all my c o o l and c o l d like an old job
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE!

filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler Then someone will say, "what is lost can never be saved."

xxx¤ with some rich guy. xxx¤ fancy sky-scraper restaurant xxx¤ amused/annoyed.zzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                          Escorted through the busy Chicago streets in a black and silver vehicle, his reflection cut a long silhouette in the tinted windows on either side. Across from him sat another gentleman, taller, heavier set and wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the hour. They did not speak, nor did the owner of the decadent vehicle seem inclined to look away from the folders spread across his lap. His accomplice, however, was equally disinterested in small talk. Crevan, a leg crossed over his knee, had his eyes on the buildings rolling past. Neon glowed and slowly moving crowds braved the cool night. Since New Years, business in the city had resumed and the slog toward the next year end had begun. As such, the Merchants had their hands full striking new deals, replenishing funds and cutting off anything they did not benefit from.

                          Crevan had long ago volunteered for any aforementioned "cutting." Bringing things to an end, he'd learned, was one of his greatest talents. More specifically, he could cut away lives of greedy, spoiled men without consequence. His soul and conscience no longer responded to the callous, unfeeling act which "cutting" required in the underworld. Hence, his current position. The man he was with was not a lover or friend, barely more than an acquaintance from when they had crossed paths two years before. He was the owner of a company or three, wealthy as they came and dirtier than most. The Merchants had kept contracts with his sources for numerous years - until, as of recent, the results of their partnership started to weigh in the favor of the man. Expenses up, resources down, shipments slow, lost paperwork, shoddy equipment, ect ectera. Crevan had no personal grudge against the man. He was, however, marked.

                          The car rolled into a parking garage and they both climbed out once the driver opened the door. Through the garage, they strolled out along a pathway that led to a massive building, almost every floor lit and shining through sweeping windows. Luxury awaited them through the doors: dark granite tiles shone with polish beneath their feet and intricate, car-sized chandeliers were hung above two separate flights of stairs. The lobby was brimming with socialites wandering in all directions, followed by clouds of perfume and cologne. Paintings and mirrors were laid about with a precise amount of taste and prestige. As the two of them moved through the lobby, heads turned, eyes stared and voices hushed. At the same time, Crevan directed them to an elevator, regardless of whom was bringing who to the meeting point. The glass door shuttered open and into it they went: pressing a button for a floor just below the penthouse suites, Crevan's companion grinned shortly as the doors slid shut. "Time and money. Two things this tower was built for, in the minds of the men whom had too little of the first and craved more of the last. I hope you'll enjoy yourself, regardless, Mr. Wrent." Crevan nodded, but opted not to comment in return, an empty gaze turned to numbers swiftly rising as the elevator ascended.

                          Music summoned them from the elevator as they reached their destination. It grew louder once the doors opened and they passed through. As Crevan's "date" inquired to his reservations, the stoic redhead idly swept a hand over the lapels of his coat. Long, sweeping, a thin belt tightened the brushed wool fabric around his waist, accentuating his lithe, elegant build. In another world, the leather trim and tiny, glossy buttons would have been laughed at. He'd once been delighted by a shirt with both sleeves and boots with soles. Now he wore shoes with a high shine and pants tailored to his exact measurements, with dark gray pinstripes and a scarf dangling from under his collar in numerous shades of blue. With his long, long hair braided and draped over one shoulder, Crevan risked the line between unapproachable and sensual. A tasteful black patch over his right eye invited a sense of danger and risque, and wasn't that exactly the point?

                          The lighting was low, the waiters and dining couples quiet and Chicago's skyline could be seen through full length windows around the restaurant's perimeter. He joined his companion when their table was ready, following the host as they made their way to an elevated seating section with plush booths and a select view of the outside scenery. They had nearly arrived at their table when, amongst the blur of faces and voices, a woman's rose up in a high laugh to Crevan's left. During the span of three strides, his face turned, his gaze fell and found its owner. The laughter belonged to a curvy, petite woman with wavy brown hair, her face pinched and self-satisfied and thickly made up. Heavy jewelry pulled at her ears and weighed down between barely concealed breasts that a plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination. Small white teeth, pug-like face, too-big lips and eyes that might have been pretty if fake lashes and mascara hadn't glued them half together. Her nails were manicured and claw-like, glittering with fake stones as well. Again, a woman whom might have been attractive if only someone had warned her that a tanning booth would turn her into a brown, wrinkly nut if used too often. Her date was obviously registering all these points, good and bad, as the woman punctuated the quiet atmosphere with another crack of laughter.

                          Engel looked downright miserable, in his opinion.

                          He was seated with his back to the window, as per his request. Putting his back to a crowd of people made him uneasy on the best of days and this day was one to be treated with care. This presented one small problem, however. He now had a prime view of the blond, blue-eyed Chief of Police. Coat and scarf removed, Crevan glanced over a wine list, but murmured to the other man that he could make the selection. As that was done, the slender male let his gaze rove. Running into Engel had not been in the plan. Seeing Engel, anywhere, had not yet been the plan. Certainly he had, several times, since their last encounter, but that had been done on his own time, when he could do so without Engel being any the wiser. Those words left between them, especially his own while in the hallway outside of room 514, had been the truth - more honest than Crevan could ever recall being. His throat, dry and tight from a growing tension, itched and he took a sip of water from another glass while waiting for the wine. Most recently, he had taken to watching Engel, if only to gauge the man's emotions and actions. So far, he had seen little, and the flames had receded to sparks. He didn't understand. He knew the man had felt something that day.

                          Crevan could not believe - let himself believe - that Engel would really, truly, discard his memory for good.

                          His free hand balled into a fist in his lap, but his composure did not waver as his counterpart set to talking. Although Crevan had no orders but to deliver a warning, he would likely have to relate the conversation to Adrian or anyone else interested in the businessman's contracts. Even so, he had little enthusiasm to listen, let alone entertain the man with answers in turn. That, however, did not affect his responses. Crevan's face slowly transformed, easing into a relaxed state that brimmed with coy intrigue. As dinner was ordered and wine was consumed, his posture slackened, perhaps from the alcohol, perhaps from the exaggerated smiles and not-so-subtle flirtations of his companion. When the man reached out to feel the material of Crevan's loose, silky black dress shirt, fingers lingering too long on his shoulder, the redhead only smiled faintly and nodded to whatever compliment was paid. His chin lowered, head twisted just a fraction: Crevan slid his gaze to where Engel sat, the smile still laid upon his lips, lid lowered. What might have been a chuckle, too soft to be heard across the room, parted his lips and his gaze once more slid away.


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                          xxxCREVANtheREVOLVER

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA wave of heads did turn, or so I've been told
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                                        The smell of a home cooked meal wafted from behind the door of the single level ranch home. There was some shouting in Korean followed by Burke’s deep voice shouting back. It was how the two often communicated, very energetically and at the tip of each other’s lungs however they never fought or shouted in front of the little ones Ms. Basil babysat. The woman herself was in the kitchen cooking a complete homemade meal of rice, steamed vegetables and chicken while Burke stood leaned up against the counter beside her, sipping on an open beer. “You’re makin’ too much, Ma. It’s just you and I.” She did it often, every time actually, and their fridge was always stacked full of left overs that were rarely eaten.

                                        “Isabella is coming over with her papa.” She shot a glare at her son, slapping the stop of his hand with her wooden spoon as he reached over to snatch a chunk of chicken from the pan. “Keepa your hands outta my pots!” She shouted, waving the spoon in his face.

                                        Burke let out a whine, slouching his shoulders as he babied his hand. “Crazy old woman… Who’s to say Isabella hasn’t already eaten, and Gabriel doesn’t have the time to come in and sit.” He set down his beer and moved to the sink where he ran his hand under some cold water.

                                        “I’m going to make him a doggy bag.”
                                        She announced, bending over to open a cabinet and pull out a small tupperware container. “He too skinny, never eats!” She scraped some of the food into the container then pushed it over to Burke, “Make sure he takes it.”

                                        Burke took the container; he could hear the quite little tapping at the door even over the sizzle and pop of the food still on the stove. Taking the Tupperware under his arm he left for the front of the home. After a few scrapes at the front door and the jingle from chain lock, the door flew open. Burke grinned when he saw the little girl standing on the top step of the porch “Isabella!” He roared, scooping her up in two big arms to give her a squeeze. “My god! You’re heavy, have you gotten any taller, hm?” He grinned at her before looking over Gabiel, “Ma made you some dinner. You better eat it or she’ll have both our heads.” He tossed the container at him then stood back so he could enter the house only to find some stranger with their hand on the other man’s shoulder. Who the ******** was this guy and what the hell was he doing on his porch?





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                                                                  x xAlias: Luca Theif and Spy France's Most Wantedxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                                                                  xxxxxxxxxxxxx my sugar baby, my bubble gumxxmelts in my arms like raspberry charms


                                                                      tab Aldric took in a deep breathe, slowly breathing it out to watch his breath smoke in the cold air. Occupying his time as he drove his way towards the base. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was blonde instead of bluish. His clothes less loud to the eye. His aura more tolerable than it had been. Yes, he was indeed himself tonight. Not that annoying, bubbly thing he normally pretends to be. He was growing tired of the game, constantly putting blue in his hair and washing it out daily. Pretending to be this happy go lucky thing towards everybody. Sure he was living under a disguise. But this wasn't France. No one knew him or what he even did so what was the point of putting on the act even further? At least not now that is. The only thing on his mind right now was how everything was going to go down when he arrived at HQ. Was he going to be shot? Fired? Even Adrian didn't know of his true identity so it was only a wonder of what he was going to do or think. Of course he had a back up if such anger would occur. He knew how his boss loved the finer things in life.

                                                                      tab He rolled down his window to let the cool, crisp air fill his car. Making it so it wasn't so stuffy. Night was starting to set over the night sky and the weird were starting to flock to the streets of Chicago. He placed a cigarette between his lips, lighted, and took a very deep drag. He hadn't had a good smoke in weeks. He hadn't had a good anything the past few weeks. Meal, sleep, work, etc. It just seemed like he was never going to catch up on anything.

                                                                      tab It wasn't long before he pulled into the parking lot. Part of him wondering how he even got there since the drive consisted of him mostly spacing off into thought. Oh well. He made his way up to the front door and opened it up, finding a surprise a few feet from the door. It was his dear Tempest. Wailing about needing CPR only to giggle about in an evil way. He seemed pretty excited about needing CPR. "If you are dying you really shouldn't do it in front of the door. People need to be able to come and go as they please."


                                                                                        it's a sugar high and it don't last longxxsmooth like caramel, peppermint carousel xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                                                                                        location :: HQ x company :: Tempest x ooc :: The truth is revealed!


                                                                                        Anthousa

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