Locale: Anonymous (CVnU thread)

@lucian_lebeau: O_O

@brainchild: It worked didnt it lol

@lucian_lebeau: Dammit! >_<

Sat above the abecedarian bed of a catchpenny, second-hand hostel at Miami, Luke sunk to his bottom. Scent of cheap alcohol merged with the icing. He had been blowing blue for quite some time, a melancholic stare as lines on the flooring, delineating unclear flashes of the past, colorful imagery yet macabre happenings. A mediocre, legless bastard with so much insanity on his past he had to shelter amid addictions to partially forget it. "Way to go, Luke."

"A test." A smile teased the corners of her mouth as too many thoughts tried to crowd her mind at once. "Being a student of the magical arts, of course I would be open to... a test." She turned away, taking a sip of her beer for something to do with her hand. The normal one.

@lady_magicka: *tackles modvine*

SUUUUUP!

German Safehouse, temporary home of a pro-mutant arms dealer.

The infiltration started with a crack and a head left grotesquely twisted around. Where a guard now lay lifeless, his killer flickered out of view. He'd been told to minimize casualties, and minimize he would, but his exit point needed to be clear. His invisible form stalked past a row of cameras, following another guard to the entrance he'd picked out. All it took was a patient wait and the guard unwittingly opened the door for him.

He was in. The house was deceptively disarming for what amounted to a small fortress. The soundless assassin didn't even get farther than a few meters into the building before he hit his first obstacle. A set of high-powered laser emitters barring his way through an otherwise open door. Controlled by a number pad on each side of the door, if he passed through without putting the code in it'd set the whole alarm system off. Each door had one, and while his armor would absorb the laser itself without harm, it would risk the mission. If that happened, a fairly well-networked arms dealer would keep supplying would-be mutant rebels with arms. 'Ensure those guns never reach the hands of your radical brothers, Epsilon. For the cause', Ross had told him.

So, he slipped up to the panel and pried it open as delicately as possible. Pulling the uplink cable from the side of his armored finger, he attached it to the inner guts of the panel. It wasn't long before he had himself linked into the system. While he was at it, he made the logical decision to bring ADMIN on board. If he was lucky, it could bring down the whole security system before anyone in the house even noticed.

"ADMIN, this is Epsilon. Got a possible link into their security. See what you can do about putting them in the dark long enough for me to do my job and get out." His voice was hushed, even though he made sure that no sound would escape his helmet. Speaking quietly was a habit he'd picked up during training, in the event he was ever without the use of his armor or powers. He didn't have time to think too hard about it, though. The sterile, harsh tones of the Facility's resident AI cut it short.

"Of course, Epsilon. I've disabled security measures along a path that I've calculated to be the most efficient route to the target. This will give you an additional minute to complete your objectives unnoticed. Have a splendid day." Abel didn't even let him finish before he took off, following his helmet's GPS display. On the way down to the basement he slipped by several guards who never could have guessed he was there. How could they, when the assassin was both invisible and silent as the grave?

The assassination itself was brief and quiet. The target, a middle-aged, light-skinned female was in the middle of completing a order when the knife slipped through her chest. It could have been cleaner, but Ross himself had ordered blood. Something about needing to send a message. Abel hardly listened during briefings past his basic objectives.

Just as he was about to leave, though.. he paused. Flickering off his camouflage for a moment, he stared into the dying woman's eyes as she bled out. It wasn't out of some sick pleasure.. but, empathy, perhaps? Amidst the immense flood of sound Ross had placed in Abel's brain to make him loyal.. he felt a spark. It was gone upon the chime of ADMIN reminding him that it was time to go, but a sense of unease hovered until he was well away from the target's residence.

In the beginning the spirit hovered over the waters. Even at the birth of life, she was the womb, the fountainhead of existence. As it was time and time again, the rain fell upon the arid lands bringing life from the dry depths an echo of that first primordial water. It was a gentle percussion at first as her sweet intonations summoned forth the pitter patter of rain upon the sand. Her voice grew louder and more ominous still retaining an undeniable mystique as the deluge began. Taking the form of a young woman, the ancient arose from the crystal waters of the overflowing river, beads of liquid diamond sliding from her supple, sun-kissed form, a melody weaving the treacherous floodwaters about her. Long, raven locks flowed down her bare shoulders in contrast with vibrant, oceanic eyes. An alluring anthem rang out upon the silvery breaths from shimmering lips, each pitch bringing awe to all who heard her song. She is known by many names that goddess of the waters though more so in times past, worshiped for both her motherly nurturance and the treacherous nature of her being. Her song is echoed by the crashing of the waves and the rippling of rivers and the bubbling of springs and the mourning tears of the destitute. Life and death are woven within the cadence of her vocal tunes. She is the uncontrollable waters of the sea devouring the wayward seafarer, the cool, hospitable oasis for the thirsty traveler. She is the Sirens' muse and the Nereid Queen. She is Naunet. She is the Wellspring.

@wellspring: I'll reply to this soon :)

Down in supernatural ghetto of Everafter, the nights were almost always loud and the days were almost always quiet; this often meant the Big Bad Wolf never almost never got an ounce of sleep... unless he fell asleep at his desk, of course, and that was the case now. He had only recently lost consciousness seeing as the cigarette in his ash tray was still emitting a thin line of smoke while it's owner rested his face on the desk. Less than half an hour later the peace ended, as usual, and the Wolf's phone ringed out in it's annoying way.

Sitting up groggily Blake tried to shake it off before grabbing the phone and lifting it to his ear. He didn't talk for a few seconds, just listening and trying to place to voice... familiar, but not one he'd heard in a long while. "... Arnold, wasn't expecting an call from you." Blake says in a questioning tone as he picks up his cigarette and relights it. "What is it this time, exactly?"

@big_and_bad:

Blake sounded like he didn't want anything to do with anyone. This would be his usual demeanor if not for the telltale pause, indicating he just woke up from a nap. This made him slightly more approachable.

"Remember when Drake and I helped you? I don't think you'll ever be able to grow hair in that place ever again," Arnold began, leaning against the fridge storing various chemicals that needed to be chilled.

"But this is bigger than grease fires and a few rabid werewolves tearing up Yancy Street. I'm at my safehouse in Maine. The first time I saw her, she was about eight feet tall and snarling. Now she's about five-three, snoring. I'm just going out on a limb here and saying that we might have another outbreak about to happen,"

He took his time with the words until about halfway through what he needed to say, somewhere between 'grease' and 'Yancy' so that Blake could wake up a bit.

"Since there are so many kinds of wolf-human hybrids, I thought it was more of your jurisdiction. She might be born with the ability or she might be a bitty,"

'Bitty,' some childish term that Drake made up to identify victims of any number of supernatural attacks that usually result in an increase in that species' population. No matter how stupid it was, it stuck.

"I can have a port to your office ready in about ten seconds."

@last_man_standing:

Blake took a long drag of his smoke while Arnold talked, recalling the three's little adventure on Yancy Street... help is a funny way to describe they're involvement considering that, as Dedrick remembers it, Drake was part of the reason he could no longer grow hair in that place.

Shrugging off the past and turning to the now, he paid more attention when the cyborg brought up the matter of the unconscious lycan sleeping on his couch. "She turned back into a human at morning?... that means she doesn't have a lot of control over her abilities, and she isn't comfortable in her wolf form. Already a bad sign."

Before Blake could even suggest his own motives of transportation, Arnold was already bringing up his damn portals; the skin-clad wolf hating those things, made him feel weird... but they were still the fastest way to go. "Alright, get it up then. Let's get this over with." A few seconds later the portal opened on cue- and eventually, with a sigh, Blake reluctantly stepped through.

@wellspring:

The soothing, nurturing touch of the vivid dawn roused the slumbering temptress, her sumptuous, bare frame held in the seductive comfort of the winsome Djinn's arms. She awoke first as the commencing slants of morning light penetrated the neighboring window and crept into the soft covers of the bed, gently imparting their warmth upon their frames while congenially bidding her welcome to the ingress of another day. Slowly, while Satar's mind clung to the fantastical domain of dreams, his copper-skinned companion of the night opened her lustrous eyes and stirred like a flower in bloom. She stretched herself out across the bed, taking in the enfolding embrace of the sun's rays prior to turning her entrancing features towards the slumbering Djinn.

Her disarming, hazel eyes shimmered in the presence of the morning light as she gazed upon he with whom her bed was shared during the previous night. The corners of her lips curled upwards, a smile exuding her characteristic sensuous flair adorned her beauteous visage as memories of their impassioned night burned in her mind. The image of Satar's bare frame, the superlative sculpt of his physique, how much more beautiful he was when the moonlight cast over his unblemished, bronze skin painted a picturesque man, mesmeric in his perfection. Meeting her smile with a kiss of intimate romanticism upon her soft lips, the awakened Scimitar of Djinnestan's azure gaze met hers. Quietly giggling to herself, she turned away, a taciturn yawn escaping her as she rose to her feet. Though as she turned round, intent on offering the long-lived Djinn a tantalizing view of alluring disarmament, her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat as Satar was nowhere to be found.

He was smokeless fire, leaving no aromatic remnant of his presence as he vanished. Her wishes had been granted, his existential obligation to those who unchained him from the shackles of his jewel-encrusted lamp met, and so, the Satar Savant departed, in his possession, the consequence of having one's wishes granted by a Djinn, the woman's memories. With fine, gold-lined garments festooning his frame, legs folded underneath him in a cross as he rode atop an artistically festooned, ruby carpet that glided along the currents of the air, Satar indulged in his wanderlust roamed the mortal plane until his curiosity was piqued. Though it was no mortal who now captivated him. Gazing upon the drawing image of an aquatic goddess emerging from a sparkling desert oasis, the Smokeless Scimitar's carpet descended, bringing him into view while sating his desire to learn more of such a charming creature of the divine.

@big_and_bad:

Flipping the phone shut, Arnold cranked up the special portal he reserved for a strangely fitting point in Faraway, specifically in Blake's coat closet. As soon as the private investigator stepped through, he would see the woman asleep on Arnold's couch covered in an old blanket. She didn't seem to mind the oil stains, and slept relatively peacefully outside of the loud snoring. Arnold stuck a finger in his ear, feeling some wax getting knocked loose from the vibrations alone.

"Egh," he flicked the substance onto the floor. If Drake were here, he would wipe it on his back.

"I do have to mention that she was covered in blood when she got here, right? And as soon as she reverted back, I saw no open wounds. There were plenty of dead critters around in the woods, though."

@last_man_standing:

The minute the Wolf stepped through the portal in his closet, he was immediately hit with sensory overload; lighting instantly changed, new sounds, a lot of new smells, and a messed up sense of balance... his enhanced senses only made the transition worse. Stumbling into the cyborg's workshop, Blake shakes his head like a wet dog trying to dry off.

After a dozen or so blinks he regained his composure and focused on the blood-covered lycan laying on the sofa. "... Yeah, I can smell all the animal blood on her." The skin-clad wolf says quickly before taking a long drag of his cigarette, surprisingly still lit. Being calmed as the smoke rushed through his lungs, the enchanted lycan steps up to the unconscious woman... kneeling down and examining her. "Question is if she was killing because she was angry or because she was hungry."

@big_and_bad:

Her nose twitched, and for the first time Arnold saw her eyes.

They were hazel.

But the rest of the examination didn't go as planned, as she leaped out from underneath the covers, stark naked, and looked at her hosts like a deer caught in the headlights. Unable to do much else, she started to scream, but what came out wasn't human. Her canines were slightly elongated as well, her back arched, and her fingernails almost clawlike. In a desperate bid to escape, she heaved the nearby TV Arnold was repairing and broke through a nearby window to escape back into the woods.

The cyborg scratched his head.

"Angry. Definitely angry."

@last_man_standing:

Blake was too busy examining the woman's bestial features to notice the short and silent part of her awakening, and as such was taken by surprise when she leaped into action. Rolling backwards when the feral woman howled like a beast, when the skin-clad wolf stood back up it could be seen that he had already transformed into his own feral form and crouched like a beast.

Although he was expecting a fight, his expression turned from vicious to... moreso relieved when she chose to flee out the window. Turning to Arnold when he chose to speak, the now bestial Blake gave him something between a grunt and a growl. "We have to follow- if there are any others out here, she'll lead us to them." The Wolf says quickly before leaping through the window and charging into the woods, not waiting up on the cyborg seeing as he probably had plenty of ways to catch up.

@big_and_bad:

Too many wolves. And there were supposed to be more? FFS.

Arnold moved all the broken glass to a receptacle with a small gesture of his hand, cringing once Blake fcking pirouetted like a champion out of the now-vacant window.

"Sure, fine, I'll catch up later then."

While the chase was pretty much Blake's right now, Arnold prepared for what he understood to be a possible shootout if push came to shove. He looked towards the latest rifle he constructed, but found just that lacking. Bringing two oversized shotguns, three belts of grenades, four trench knives, and a mini-gun with appropriate ammo belts, the final piece remained in a teleportation matrix on his belt buckle.

This would carry him to where Black would approximately be, if he hadn't cornered the werewolf already.

@satar:

The alluring song of the Sirens' Muse continued unabated, the sparse plant life of the area glistening and glowing with gladness in the morning light. Deep azure eyes fell cooly upon the newcomer. Few of this new age had laid eyes upon her adopted form, her beauty had fallen to myth, the tales of the raven haired goddess with sapphire eyes of unending brilliance had passed into obscurity. It brought little melancholy to her heart, a being already so detached from the lesser voices of mortals. She was and always would be even as empires wax and wane, even from birth unto death. But the one who now hovered before her was no mere man. The Foremost Fountainhead paused in her elemental song to address the stranger in words no less melodic and enchanting. "Child of the smokeless flame, what brings you to these waters?"

@wellspring:

Civilly seated atop his hovering, ornate ruby carpet, the Djinn of Wanderlust resumed his tame descent from the azure skies, mesmeric sapphire eyes taciturnly meeting the aquatic deity's welcoming gaze with charming cordiality. "Curiosity", Satar answered, soft-spoken and gentlemanly as he began, "Curiosity based on an observation". Descending from his ceaselessly airborne carpet, both arms quietly folded behind his back with patrician poise, the Immortal Scimitar conducting himself with a magisterial flair that has grown to become a staple of his psychological disposition. "Your symphonic song garnered no answer but mine, alehat al bahr (goddess of the sea)", he paused, "The modern man no longer acknowledges deities as a necessity of nature".

Chivalrously extending his left hand towards the unacquainted deity, his comely features softening with winsome affability, he encourages a potential approach, "The world is different from what you recall. Please, allow me to offer you insight into the present day".

@satar:

The Lady of the Oasis stared emotionlessly at him, a hint of pensive nature glittering in her oceanic eyes. "The song of the sea is drown out by the harsh noises of the modern world. The children of dust and blood pay little heed and instead control the once reckless tides. Even the tears of mortals has been stagnated by numbing pleasures. What hope is there for a people so detached from their primal spring?" Her cool gaze fell upon his inviting hand. To join with a creature of fire, something of her opposite, was quite contrary to what she had known. But this was an unusual time. Even as the waters ascend into the cloud with a change of state given the atmospheric conditions, perhaps it was time for a renewal of the water goddess. "What can you offer me in insight that in millennia has not been mingled into my sea song already? What do you propose, wandering Djinn?" It wasn't apprehension that stayed her human hand but rather the continuous tide of what had always been. To break the bonds of ancient convention is no simple task. To stray beyond the waters' edge would be like an infant learning to walk. There was possibility in the vulnerability, but how even to start?

@wellspring:

Conducting himself with amicable poise and an inherent sense of perpetual gallantry, the Scimitar of Djinnestan's left hand remained benignly extended for the aquatic goddess to rest her delicate palm in. "There is hope", Satar answered simply, his traditionally august visage conveying an expression of charming politeness as he resumed their conversational exchange. "The world has changed, and its people have grown more cynical and independent. As a deity associated with life, do you not view this world's people as your children?", he calmly inquired. "And is it not every parent's dream for their child to grow into a self-sustaining adult? One who can provide for themselves and not rely on the guidance of their parents?".

Addressing the unnamed goddess' question regarding what his wisdom and experience could offer that her divine intimacy with the world could not, a tame, poised smile adorned the Marid Jinn's mesmeric features. "I am a Djinn, alehat al bahr (goddess of the sea)", he paused. "I have experience in the affairs of the mortal man since their very creation. They come to me with their wishes, some for power, others to do away with their plaguing troubles", he continued, "I have seen the ancient hunter-gatherer grow into the modern man of today. And the modern man no longer worships, no longer concerns himself with gods and the like. Mankind now worships a different idol, the superhero. The extraordinary who devote their powers to bettering the lives of others through altruism and heroic feats".

@satar:

A ruminative wrinkle furrowed over her dark, naturally arched brows, blue eyes somehow brightening despite the shadow of contemplation. "Then what is to become of the mother when her children depart to pave their own future when death and decay are not an option? The chorus that was once so strong in the creation of the world has become drowned out by the steely din of industry. Perhaps it is time for a new chapter in the hymn of the rivers. In the shrinking and controlling of the waters, I find myself restless as has always been my nature." A smooth, bronzed hand was extended to rest in his. "Nameless Djinn, tell me more of yourself and of the world you wander."

@the_superior_sapien

The purring engine of the Aston Martin DBS Superior Black Edition announced the arrival of the unparalleled Lena Dante.

Publicly known as the acting co-head of Avalon, and as a 'fixer' with no equal, she was both respected and hated, although not in equal measure.

Lena knew her worth, and she knew her mission, and she knew what had brought her here today. Information gathering as much as anything, her innate curiosity had drawn her to this specific interview figure.

Garrison Grail had burst onto the scene. Following a spectacular and spectacularly short-lived career in football, he had announced to the world in one fell swoop that it was not HGH that he was partaking in, but simply utilizing his natural gifts. Lena still remembered the footage as if it had aired yesterday. She had been furiously frustrated at the time that his was a case that she hadn't handled.

He had blown up ever since, becoming a household name with more endorsements than an A-list actor or pop star. He was on that upper echelon, and he'd done it without the oversight of somebody of Lena's caliber, which was impressive in and of itself.

And now, finally, she had been granted an exclusive interview to discuss his current affairs. She was impatient to finally get the chance to pick his brain, although she suspected that their base morality differed in several crucial ways.

Handing the keys off to an on-hand valet, Lena shot him a dazzling grin and entered the truly luxurious mansion.

The red soles of her trademark Louboutins clacked quietly against the marble of the interior foyer as she cast a gaze around. It was truly an experience of decadence. She'd been no stranger to opulence, to expensive taste, having grown up in the lap of luxury herself, but this took it to an entirely different level.

Immediately analyzing it, she found it to be in line with what she expected Garrison's profile to be when he was out of the public eye, and out of range of cameras and other myriad recording devices. Which was to say, exactly the same as it always was. That at least, was something she could respect. He was what he presented as, which was rare to find in the world, as always.

Clad in exquisite Alexander McQueen garb, she had intentionally opted for something sleek and casual, appropriate for the ambiance of interviewing a former pro sports start. The black cropped trousers were paired with a sleeveless white tux shirt, showcasing toned arms and graceful shoulders. The pairing of colors broke the monotony and imposing nature of all black, providing a light 'approach me' air to the ensemble.

Her hair was up, secured in an artfully tousled bun with a small braid acting as an entwined headband across her head. Small strands had been allowed to fall down around her face, framing the exquisitely aristocratic bone structure.

This was all on display as she took a slow turn around the living room that was larger than most people's entire houses. That moment of quiet reverie was broken as her crew entered. It was a small team of five, a cameraman for the one angle she'd opted for, lighters, dressers for the area and an assistant to handle what she wouldn't be able to.

Lena was in the midst of greeting them and discussing details for the impending interview when she sensed a new presence in the room.

Slowly turning around from running down the hit sheet with Denise, she caught sight of Garrison in the flesh, so to speak.

He was one of the rare few who were surrounded by a naturally magnetic charisma, and you couldn't help but be slightly awed by their presence.

It took her seconds to recover, and to slide into her naturally analytic mode of thought, breaking down his body language as she strode forward.

Extending her hand towards his with a magnetically charming smile of her own curling rose pink lips, the Darling Dante greeted her interview subject with natural aplomb. "Mr. Grail, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

I don't know how to write two paragraph posts anymore

-_-

@the_superior_sapien: got time? need some help

@the_superior_sapien: I'm sorry D:

You're in student mode. :P

@jake_malcom: Sure, whats up

MHM!

@the_superior_sapien: nm the verification finally friggin went through wtf happen with the system on this site grrr

@the_superior_sapien: You can just skim and then read the last couple bits. But you should know what you're getting into by now lol

I am. That and for the past six? months I've been in novel mode.

@natalia_dante: I can sympathize. Being assigned 20-page minimum research papers stopped phasing me after a while. ;)

@the_king_garcia: DC?

Oh god.......

@natalia_dante: Yes?

Assault on Arkham.

@natalia_dante: I can send you some, if you ever need help falling asleep. ;)

@the_superior_sapien: Loving the supernatural vibe lately. Lets me spread my demon wings a bit more lol

just waiting for verification for another account to go through and ill have someone in each clan lol

@lena_dante:

"Like wise Ms. Denta. Shall we?"Extension of the Nep Chambray Woven sleeve partially rolled up the forearm, expressed Garrison's cordial protocol in directing the famed reporter to have a seat. Several iced bottles of French Christian Lacroix – Evian refreshingly stationed between reporter and interviewee, added to the posh mystique that had effortlessly embraced the former Detroit native turned Professional Superhero. The range of initial topics ran the typical gambit of questions and answers. Nothing extraordinarily Earth shattering as the two casually built an organic safety net of trust and professional admiration. After all, the Avalon liaison and Legal Eagle was an authentic star in her own right, one worthy of adulation. Her groundbreaking foundation had paved the way for Superhero rights during a time in which the public's trust had been shaken. Proving that even a normal citizen could be a hero regardless of powers.

Quickly sending out a Tweet while Lena conversed with her production assistance during a commercial break, the Holy Grail prepared himself. "I gotta address some'n real quick. Alot of people been yappin bout the 'Call Out.' Wonder when I'mma fire back and get at the Emerald Archer. Let me set da record straight right now.....I aint. Truth is, that was a the best thing that could have happened to me. Shit was a wake up call. I'll never be the type of hero Mr. Pendragon is, I just aint built that way. But that dude is the truth, the real deal. Aint none bigger in the hero game then Double A (Apex Archer). Which is why I'm happy to announce that as of this moment, Mr. Pendragon will be leading the first Professional Squad of Superheroes, the MVP's. And Lena, woooooo, believe me when I tell you dat dis squad is coooold. Straight all-stars up and down the roster. We fit to change da game in dis bitch."

@the_superior_sapien: I missed this somehow, I'm sorry D:

I loved that post, should have a response soon.

@thee_jester

A lone wanderer for nearly 200 years, David has met many people and been many things. But one thing he does enjoy above all else, being a thief. The act of taking something with force, it fills him with such excitement its almost orgasmic. Of all the running around and killing he has done in his life, nothing fills his mind and body with excitement like stealing something.

Just as he has before, he stands watching everything. Each turn a guard makes inside and outside, he watches and memorizes everything. The large bank before him is more of a large security deposit box, all kinds of people keep there deepest darkest treasures inside. David knows not what he is after, but knows only that his nose has caught the scent of something different. But he is not alone, someone else eyes the very same bank as he...

@the_king_garcia:

"Yeah...I know that look..." Bart literally goes back to back with the stranger, his civilian garb mistakable from anyone else's. "A bank heist, one man job. I mean hey you're a big guy, you can handle this on your own...Right? I mean you totally have sleeper pellets in all of the guards pockets ready to go off, the cameras rigged to deactivate...Hell I bet you even considered the special alarm which is set to alert capes in this town...Oh?You haven't? Well allow me to introduce myself, you can call me Bartman, and I'll call you whatever you wanna be called after you show how tough you are...Sound fair?"

Bart grinned widely while ready to press the "heist button".

@thee_jester:

sniff

Before the young man could even utter a word, David knew he was behind him. An attempt at sneaking entirely unoticed was something the young man could not do. But David could tell he held no real threat to him, spouting off information about the guards inside and how the alarm system worked. David shrugged and spoke, his deep voice almost too low to be understood "I had intended to go in fast, take out as many as got in my way before grabbing something in the vault." David pointed to the guard who was moving from the front door to the far right "That ones about to change position in fifteen seconds, he moves inside to the desk at the far right." David had watched for a few days, and was ready to go in. But now with the young man he had to figure out a different approach. "So what were you planning Bart?" David stopped and turned this time looking down at Bart "By the way, call me King."

@the_king_garcia:

Bart chuckled at the irony, also complimenting the man's underestimated talents. "It's alot more skill and talk when you leave them alive, trust me from someone who has robbed this joint two times..." Bart slipped on his mask, only covering his eyes, the guards would surely notice soon enough. "Look man, fifty fifty if you distract the guards AND reinforcements while I grab the cash, trust me when I'm a man-child of my word..."

Bartman prepared a smoke pellet, seconds before he noticed that mask in a crowd...

@_drake:

An inconspicuous warehouse, 9:30 PM

"I'll have to be using little establishment here for a while... that won't be a problem, now will it?" The redheaded vixen says with a devilish smirk while she stares at the owner of the building, who was currently hanging upside down from the ceiling wrapped head to toe with vine, wriggling and yelling muffled pleas. Giving a cheerful nod at the victim, she has her vines toss him to the corner, before turning to the rest of her plantlife erupting from a hole in the center of the room.

Raising a hand, she summons several large vines; each carrying large money bags she had stolen not too long ago. Having her pets set the money in a large pile, she took a comfy seat atop of them and let out a long, relaxed sigh... it was good to have some time to rest by herself.

@_rose_: This'll be funny lol

@pyrogram: Probably :P

@_rose_:

Contracts. Those simplistic, ostensibly ridiculous pieces of paper that ruled over Drake's life. Yet, he never complained, nor did he flinch upon challenges. He enjoyed those. Grinding meat garnished his blades, the argent metal tainted burgundy sent delightful shivers through his spine. It would be no different this time. A wide grin lengthened, curling lips elevating through the rubicund mask.

The explosion wrecked havoc into the first floor, debris scattered, the corpses spread, flesh seemingly masticated, made him cock a brow. "Thing are dead already? But I had a whole line about burritos and beans to use!" Fathoming the vines, he laid eyes upon the redheaded, jaw dropping slightly. "Well, hello there! Should I blame you for the carnage?" His mesmerized and jocose demeanor evident. "Cause that's the hottest thing ever. Now you only need to grow a taco and we can officially get married! Thanks for sprouting on my life!" Mockingly winking, Drake endeavored to realize what kind of psychopath she was... And maybe get some fun for himself.

@_drake:

The vixen's brow arched as an explosion tore into the building, revealing man dressed in crimson... and a flamboyant personality. "And here I was thinking the rest of my night was going to be dull." Rose says with a curious tone as she stands up to examine him, taking a few steps closer to the Carmine Comedian in the process. "Now... who are you supposed to be?" The vines behind her seemed to creep closer as she did, each graceful movement being mimicked by her 'pets'.