LondonOn this cumbersome evening charcoal burns brightly. Smokey blackness unable to escape a metallic entrapment. Instead its bittersweet aroma infects lifeless air. Petite nostrils inhale such uniqueness. Content countenances plastered onto a most menacing face. Loyalists of the progressive cause tidy up furniture for her graciousness. And before she sits there's a superb seamstress at the door. Knocking and knocking the lady will not quit. She knows just how urgent this task really is. "Come inside" spoke a voice so tantalizing and than the golden knob is twisted ever so gently. Immensely payed security reassures their most esteemed guest all is quite well.
"Madame Goodman" she said, accepting the wise woman's respectful bow. "You have much to do." She utters once more before standing as stiff as possible. It than begins in quickened instances. Silver needles effortlessly piercing an Olympian cloth as dark as the hellish domain. Caught in an embrace of sheer selfishness thee breathing Queen cackles rather manically. Crimson colored hair tied upward lets all who see, notice how evil she can be. In forty-seven seconds flat the elderly lass has finished a tangible masterpiece. Conceitedly pushing her worker aside there is another human who's caught her eye. In the mirror she happily gazes.
"Thank you. I look absolutely flawless." She can't help but compliment herself. Heaven had done right by creating a figure very much divine. As her ego corrupts many minds there's a peculiar screech on sensitive flooring. A cart of sorts holding liquor of every flavor. Each one far more lethal than the next. A wicked grimaces stretches as an object namely called a golden cup is tightly grasped. The bittersweet taste of the red wine lingers against her serpent tongue, sitting heavily in her belly as she stands before a vibrant fire. Behind her is a mirror held by three tiny dwarfs whom savor the scent of fair skin. Tonight is a special night of course. Dressed for an occasion of absolute grandeur.
"We all know my legacy grows by the day but..." she sensually spoke as diverse followers gather around their fearless temptress, "...America has renounced our company since its global expansion." She stopped speaking for but a few moments. Intent eyes pause and worry for a Queen so altruistic. My oh my the sayings are truth. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. As the relapse slowly withers away the attention of she who knows all is easily captured. Her violet eyes blankly stare at crackling flames, enjoying the way her skin flushes with comforting warmth, making the blood in her veins run sluggishly with pleasure.
"Ambrosia has been banned. Made illegal in quite a few of the administration's allies." Doors burst open as fourteen guests of honor involuntarily enter. Their pudgy wrists are bound together by unbreakable material. For a second she smugly chuckles at the sight of cowardice. Wooden seats pressed against whitewashed walls. Wooden seats made of Olympian trees. Whomever sat here would be bound there until magic said otherwise. No one knows why these seats lie there untouched. Some believe their Queen expects more company in the near future. Nevertheless this show must go forward. Caressing the lips of multiple men the hostess shares her attention equally.
"You see my dearest family the government is afraid to reveal my supposedly nefarious actions because they're incredibly afraid of innumerable ramifications." Touche indeed for a malicious mistress. She knew a myriad of information pertaining to various government operations. Its why she's survived for so long. No one would dare touch this sketchy femme fatale. It'd grasp global catastrophe. However, tonight will be a far more different occasion. In the oncoming hours she'd test the boldness of the United States and its heroes because as she spoke Ambrosia gets compacted and packaged for global shipment. As for her guests well they were prestigious upperclassmen of Great Britain. They're here for something entirely taboo.
"Tonight we push back against the propaganda and prove how progressive this world can become with Ambrosia." Clarice Michelle looks down to her kneeling patrons, mouth split in a wide smile, her eyes open and clear, a softness there underneath bizarre clothing. She walks forward, her curvaceous hips swaying for the benefit of no one. Her mind transferring vivid imagery of plentiful threatening enemies. Her actions would of course catch attention so her warriors must be prepared.
"You are either Romans, Greeks, or Al-Qasim enforcers. Extremely trained fighters beyond average human standards. Granted superior strength, agility, and intelligence. Please use combat wisely in the face of danger. Make our movement meaningful. In order to do so we must work harder! Think smarter! And live forever and ever to prove our righteousness," Clarice Michelle says, daring to gaze into the judgmental eyes of her most treasured nephew. Even though these two share a bond unlike any other she wholeheartedly knows his alliance will once again be feverishly tested. Part of her urns for the entirety of his heart. Yet a piece of her soul begs of him to cut every tether shared between the two. It would be a mistake to ask him to push the edges of morality. He had to make decisions on his own. All the while Clarice merely blinks as he quietly exits the scene.
LiverpoolDown below where pure souls wouldn't dare go are creatures from centuries ago. Minotaur and serpents, even deceased soldiers march to and fro. Little do pedestrians know these magical incantations are lead by one of their own. Deep in the bowels of abysmal soil roam mechanical devices belonging to you know who. Her grip may be intimidating by have no fear for death is near. No one will step down steep steps, frightful of their fate being sealed shut. Understandable for the inexperienced. Heroes on the other hand must act accordingly. Publicity can be a horrid thing if the unspeakable is not halted. Ding! Dong! Who will end her tyrannical tirade?
In due time maybe the innocent will cry on each other's shoulders. Cry until its all over. Can't this madness just be over? No it cannot because the Queen has her violet eyes set on a box of mythical proportions. It is why monstrous mysticism guards entitled excavation. She believes what underneath belongs only to her and her alone. She knows in her hands the world can finally realize how wondrous she really is. For those who enters ballsy and proud, beware of the dragon who's evil knows no bounds. In the mean time there's a man who dials ten digits whilst listening to the soothing breeze of nothingness. His name is Noah Rochelle and he'd hate for the world to end so abruptly. "Bishop its me...." he said, hitting the first domino down for what's sure to be fantastic. His alignment feels transparent but with the Zeraz family, no one can ever tell for sure.
DisclosedFabulously wicked is Miss Michelle. She had everything in check but her own flesh and blood. A variable she should of been accounted for. He tips his hat back and forth. Feet as fast as Hermes following the movements of stealthy foes. He than pulls an arrow from his quiver. Stopping fluid movement without the slightest of disruption. Taking him does he crack a smile. Bishop and his friends would be here within hours. All he needed was to figure out the location of his fiendish aunt's airplane. His love at times has clouded his judgement on numerous occasions. Tonight however delivers him an odd inclination. Whatever she is planning is wrong without a doubt. Yellow eyes want the best for everyone but sometimes even family must take a back seat.
"Time is of the---" He falls to his knees quite suddenly. An apple as red as blood circles around his still breathing body. A distress signal emits from his pocket but will the heroes find him in time? "My little warrior how disappointing you really are..." she said solemnly watching as his heavy weight is dragged away. Her face hidden from view but her words are still staggering.
Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumblebee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams ~ Ashley Smith