The Underground

First topic message reminder :

There is a world beneath the human one, a world where creatures from myth and legend still stalk the streets and live their lives quietly in an attempt to survive in the humans ignorance. Every city has its secret culture and society of these creatures, though very few in the human world know of its existence. The government knows, of course, but largely allows these creatures to live in peace so long as they do not threaten the stability of the human world. The Underground, as it is called, is far from a safe place for these beings, however; various factions bicker and squabble for control, and every Zone has its own unique dangers and factions. However, it is a safer place than the human world for some, since many of the creatures are so monstrous that they would be found out in an instant in the human world, so must stay below in The Underground for their own safety. Glamours to make these creatures look human are available...but at a price, and many can't afford it, as The Undergrounds economy is heavily weighted towards the Upper Classes. The poor get poorer and the rich get richer, as they say.

You are one of these creatures, trying to survive in this New World of secrecy and hidden conflict. Are you a soldier for a local faction, or the leader of a Noble House? Are you a humble shopkeeper, or a master assassin? A street urchin who grew from childhood to slip in and out of shadows to survive, or an out of towner with no idea how the politics and society of this new area works? The decision is yours....but beware. Around every corner lies a new danger, a new threat, and life in The Underground is always a risk. There are even rumours of a new faction rising...a terrorist cell, determined to take back the world from the Humans. They could change everything, if the rumours are true...and not necessarily for the better...

Welcome to The Underground, adventurer.
Have a pleasant stay.


The Zones

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Playable Species

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Factions:

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Glamours:

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So! That's the write up including everything we discussed. If I missed something, please let me know. Post the links to your bios below, and I will include a brief one-line summary of your character along with the link up here.

Character List/Players:
- Zalgo Driim, Male Warlock, played by Zalgo The Imminent.
- Tristan Astereus, Male Ordo Dracul, played by Murdoch.
- Genevieve Snyder, Female Half-WereTiger, Half-Shaman., played by Faith Wynters.
- Kiaki Matsuoka, Female Aniwolf, played by Jade Hawk.
- Monique Terren, Female Magi, played by Burn It.
- Mason Walker, Male UPD Werewolf, played by Mason_W.


Current Posting Order:

- Burn It,
- Mason_W,
- Murdoch,
- Jade Hawk,
- Faith Wynters
- Zalgo

Tristan doesn't speak; he doesn't have to. And, to be brutally honest, he doesn't want to. He isn't scared of Monique's anger - he may feel differently if that ire were turned on him one day, but today is not the day he finds out - or awed or wowed by her sense of control even when obviously furious. He was impressed the first one or two times, but it quickly became apparent to him that she was a master of directing her anger at those who deserved it....controlling it, keeping it from exploding and reigning herself in from perhaps foolish actions, not so much. But those things can be worked on, in time; the first step is knowing how to direct it, and direct it she is more than capable of doing. No, he isn't remaining quiet because she intimidates him, he's remaining quiet because he is very interested in what Monique will do now. He can already see her brain working furiously, trying to contain her fury long enough for her to build up to whatever she has in mind for a finale, but for those who know her - and Tristan knows her well enough to know her tells, or at least, some of them - it is clear that she is slowly losing that battle.

She is already in full-on monologue mode, but that is nothing new. She likes to build up to her kill, let the words sink in and watch and hear the growing realisation on her targets face...a habit he has cautioned her against, to be sure - he almost died a few times when he was younger, before he realised that you can fire off witty quips after the man or woman who is trying to kill you is lying in a pool of their own internal organs - but one that in this kind of situation is not going to hurt her much. It gives her CO's and him a chance to come up with a way of trying to salvage the situation, at least, but it isn't easy when they don't know what Monique is planning. Andrew - was that his name? - looks perturbed, and almost a little scared, and that is a bad sign. He has been with her longer than Tristan and obviously is accustomed to her moods and motivations and whatnot, and if he is looking worried, then it is something to be concerned about indeed. He leans back in his chair, puffing his pipe and considering. Should he step in now? He is unlikely to sway anybody away from anything rash, but he should really try if not for the situation, than his own reputation; if the fallout becomes too harsh for his House to weather, he can always claim he doesn't agree with her actions and say - truthfully - that he attempted to diffuse the situation. The thought of abandoning Monique if things get too rough doesn't sit well with him - he is, after all, a man of his word - but it is one he must entertain, given his position. Know when to fold, as they say.

But right now...right now, he must try and salvage the mess that this is swiftly becoming. He's a tad hamstrung, since neither party really wants to listen to him; the Bealian negotiators will refuse to listen to him on principle, thinking that he is insulting them by suggesting they back down (and having been sent here to insult, why should they stop now?) and Monique will likely disregard his subtle warnings in her anger. She is enraged now, he can tell, so is far less likely to actually listen to reason. He knows that problem all too well....when the blood starts pounding in your ears and your pride becomes wounded, it becomes much harder to bite your tongue and stop yourself from lashing out, especially if you are being insulted for no good reason. Whilst he disagrees that being "human" is necessarily a bad thing, he can also see how the obvious connotations that were attached by the House Bealian negotiators would sting, especially for somebody like Monique. He puffs at his pipe again, managing to keep his face impassive as he watches.

She insults them right back, of course, which sets the negotiators bristling...it does serve to put a slightly bemused, quizzical expression on his own face; 'little blood sucking rats?' That's a new one...and a slightly mixed metaphor, but he supposes validity is not required in an insult. You just lump some derogatory sounding terms together and hurl them. It's surprisingly easy. Take a random slur - preferably an obscenity of some kind - and a random verb or noun, and roughly two thirds of the time, you get a decent one-line slur. It lacks the finesse of more subtle, passive aggressive attacks and usually has no place in diplomacy, but hurling a few outlandish but vaguely offensive terms at somebody can be very useful for relieving stress or tension. He himself does it occasionally, but only in his own head. He would never be so vulgar as to utter any such base profanities out loud. He doesn't inherently look down on those who do, of course...the action is just not one that he can see the enjoyment of, and one that he personally finds distasteful. But to each their own.

Anyway. Back to the matter at hand. The head negotiator stands up, obviously intent on making some kind of retort or angry, indignant declaration of their supremacy or somesuch nonsense. It is obvious in his puffed up, incredulously angry face as his cheeks burn red and the other House Bealian diplomats - if you can call them that - look at Monique, glaring daggers. Tristan himself glances at his own side of the table and, seeing that nobody necessarily has the nerves to speak up, he himself says quietly, "I would refrain from speaking further, good sir." he pauses for a moment. Puffs his pipe. The "diplomat" likely won't follow his advice, but if even one negotiator gets out of here alive, the gesture of attempting to keep the peace could potentially help in the future in some way. C**k-cooler. That's a passable one, but he could do better. Sounds like a healthcare product. "Miss Terren is already rather perturbed-" which is an understatement "- and I would humbly suggest you try to avoid annoying her further. We're all professionals here." Some more than others...he's not even sure the fat little f***y-blister can classify as a rookie, but if he came here to insult, he certainly did his job. And huh. F***y-blister. He may have to remember that one. He always enjoyed the word 'f***y,' simply because it is such a very English word, he feels...and it causes a lot of confusion when the English meaning of 'F***y' collides with what the Americans think it does. A very unusual word indeed. Anyway. Back to the task at hand. He does go off on tangents, doesn't he?

He smiles slightly, though his warm, amused look has been replaced with a grim, mirthless smile, as if he knows what is coming and, whilst it would satisfy him no end, he does not wish it. Of course, this is accurate, so he supposes his smile reflects his opinion on the matter. "I'm sure we can keep this meeting what passes for civil, at the least." A vain hope, perhaps, and one that he has no expectation of being fulfilled...but he has said his piece, and now Monique can do with them as she wills. He will have to speak to her at length about this matter later - she will have to deal with insulting representatives many times in her career, and she can't mutilate, kill or scold all of them for fear of offending somebody far more powerful, so it would be best to learn to restrain herself sooner rather than later - but right now, he knows that she is not in the mood to listen. He leans back and watches. Either the two parties will take his advice, or they won't.

Either way...this should prove to be interesting. He has to admit, he is rather morbidly curious as to how the House Bealian ambassadors will react to the information that Monique is not, strictly speaking, Human. The looks on their faces, at least, should prove to be amusing....especially when they realise that they're trapped in a room with a Mage, in full view of the sunlight. Of course, to kill them you have to do some very specific things, but she can make them hurt a lot without killing. That's the curse of a Vampire; a very specific way of killing means that people can inflict ordinarily fatal pain on you, and you don't die. He reminds himself not to let him walk into this position in future. Idiots. Always think before you start insulting people. They should have realised that they were more vulnerable than they thought. Arrogance is such an effective killer. He shakes his head, and makes a mental note to watch that he never falls prey to the same vice. It would be....inconvenient, at best.

“I’d seriously suggest taking his advice. I might not know how to kill you,” I paused and changed to a whisper, “but he does. Scary right?” I said, gesturing to Tristian in a far too excited manner. But honestly, learning how to actually kill one of these fuckers would be interesting. Never done it, never had a reason to do it – until today. But no, they won’t die. They’ll go back to their shit whole with their tails between their legs and I'm going to love every second of watching them do it. If I ever see their faces near my properties or anything, or anyone, of value to me again then I will seriously reconsider my decision. After a few pointers from Tristian about how to kill them, if he’s willing to share that is.

To my surprise, the fat man sat back down in his chair, slowly and cautiously as though it would blow up if he sat too quickly. The men looked utterly confused more so than anything else. The ‘we need to figure out what is even happening anymore’ face. I do that a lot when my secretary goes over my day plan with me – like, every morning. Especially when she calls me in before 8am. Anyways, they gazed at each other but kept their eyes off the men sitting across from them. Maybe they thought I was the only danger in the room? HA. Hardly. Andrew could kick my ass before I even knew what was happening – and don’t get me started on Tristian. I would like to remain ignorant to the extent of the beating I could get. I’ve never really dug into the other three, but I'm sure they could pack it in if they really wanted to.

“Gentlemen I’m going to give you two choices, and these are your only choices. You can sincerely apologise to my executive officers, to my friend and COO Andrew Label – also one of only a dozen people to sit on the High Mage council. To my friend and ally Mr. Astereus, head of House Astereues, and to myself – sorry, nothing fancy about me except I have a terrible tendency to make irrational and harsh decisions. And then you’ll leave my building unharmed.”

“Option two, you can leave my building. Right now. Get up and go.”

They looked anxiously back and forth at each other. Outraged, confused, furious as all hell. Especially the one sleeked back greasy looking man who first spoke, and the fat man. The rest of them almost kept turning to them to look for directions. They won’t say a word, by the looks of it.

I walked towards the door, passing behind all seven of them. Stupid? Not really. Either they try to kill me while being so close and the men across the table from them tear them into little vampire pieces, or they sit down, shut up and realise how royally screwed they are. I reached the door, unlocked it quietly and held it open while standing against the wall that faced them. Smiling, all too pleased with myself.

The fat man stood up. Not a word, no expression and no eye contact. He turns in my direction with his head tilted very slightly down. He maneuvered himself around the chair, looked quickly as his men and nodded his head. Then proceeding to walk towards the door, to which I raised my palm to his face, stopping him in his tracks. Angry, more so than before. “Gentlemen,” referring to my staff and Andrew, “please ensure that these gentlemen make it out of the building to their cars, and leave. Immediately. If they stray from their path or try anything. Do as you see fit.” To that my men stood up and exited the room quickly before the vampires could, making sure that they were being watched. Andrew was the last to enter, stopping and whispering in my ear before leaving. “I'm glad you decided to do this peacefully.” He patted me on my shoulder and left, with a very proud and relaxed look on his face. God. I hate to have to destroy that little bit of happiness he’s finally feeling, regarding me that is. Normally it’s rage and frustration.

Andrew left, and very cautiously the fat man followed. Five of the other men stood up at the same time, and in a single file left the room at a steady pace, similar to the fat man. The sleeked back one with the sharp features and slanted eyes stood up last, and was the only one of the seven to actually make eye contact with anyone. He fixed his jacket, with an expression that looked like he wanted to spit in my face. But he’s a mildly smart man, he knows better. He took a single step towards the door, which I then slammed shut, and locked. A flick of my fingers and the vampire was flown across the room and slammed against the back wall. Dust filled that end of the room from the now crumbled drywall, the man on the floor shaking his head from the impact and trying to get back on his two feet.

A raise of both my hands raised the water from the jugs behind me on the table, and together it formed a sphere of water hovering in the air. “Sorry, option two had a bit of fine print I neglected to mention.” I said, before gesturing my hands towards him and sending the sphere of water around him, engulfing just his head. Drowning him, over and over again. The sounds of the gagging and suffocation were all I could here while I held it there.

“I'm not asking you to stay, Tristian, but you are more than welcome to. Nothing you say will change my mind – I'm not going to kill him, just send him home a bit differently. I just have one question… What’s the best way to rip out a vampires fangs?”

Tristan watches the unfolding events impassively. Really, he has no sympathy for these cretinous fools; they walk into somebody elses building - somebody elses powerbase - and proceed to insult them in an obvious, ineffective manner. Really, his grandfather could have done better in his senile years, and that was when he thought that most people who came to see him were complete strangers looking to steal his gold. It sounds humorous, until you realise that he even greeted his own family like they were criminals looking for an easy mark. Then it gets to be a lot more serious. He watches as the various ambassadors stand up and start to shuffle their way out - pointedly not looking at Tristan or Monique's COO's, possibly for fear of annoying one of them further (smart decision, given the circumstance, though a smarter decision would have been to offer an apology first) - defeated and nursing their heavily injured pride. It must gall them to have been cowed so thoroughly by a woman they wrote off as "just a human," especially in front of the head of another House and several high ranking Mage officials, and it is probably all they can do to stop themselves from firing off some rude quip or other before they beat their retreat. Perhaps they're not as stupid as Tristan originally thought; such insults, whether verbal or communicated via body language, would likely spell the closing of such a rather fair offer. They are herded out by Monique's officers, though Tristan stays; he and Monique likely have something to discuss, and he is not about to leave her in this room with the lead negotiator alone, if for no other reason than he would love to see the smile wiped off of his smug, self important little face.

Of course, the lead negotiator - the man with the stupidly greased back hair, like what was in style maybe fifty years ago in backstreet Hollywood - waits until last, as if weighing up his options, before evidently deciding that it is probably best for him to leave. Tristan steals a glance at Monique...and sees something in her eyes that tells him that it will likely not be as easy as this man thinks it will be. Tristan lifts an eyebrow, and looks back at the man in the cheap suit and oiled hair. Yes...he will regret being quite so aggressively rude, he thinks. Sure enough, as soon as he makes the slightest move towards the door - the look on his face probably didn't help his case, but then, he has a feeling that Monique intended this from the moment she gave the vampires the two options - Monique slams it shut, and the rather violent fun begins. Tristan doesn't see what propels the vampire across the room - meaning that, since Monique is a Magi, she probably used the air in the room to hurl the large man - but propelled he is, landing in a heap in the next room, having smashed through the dry wall. Sunlight streams in through the windows, making it impossible for the vampire bureaucrat to use his supernatural abilities. Tristan consciously stays out of the direct sunlight. Whilst weakened, sticking to the more shadowy areas of the room gives him a slight edge, when push comes to shove. He stands up, pipe still in hand, and comes to stand next to Monique as she hurls the water at the staggered, groggy vampire, encasing his head in water.

He says nothing for a few moments, just watching the vampire gargle and choke and struggle. It's funny; vampires don't need their lungs. They are, technically, dead, and don't actually breath except through force of habit for the younger ones, and through necessity when travelling through the human world in terms of a disguise, so you can't actually drown a vampire. However, having a ball of water attacking your head does several things at once, none of them pleasant; it removes your ability to see, so you can't fight back. Every time you open your eyes, water presses against them and blurs them and forces them to close again, making them useless. The water floods your ears, making you unable to hear, and also shoots up your nose and down your throat, irritating both areas and forcing reflexive coughs, gagging and splutters. It doesn't matter that you don't need oxygen; your body reacts as if it does, and panics, the automated responses kicking in and making you unable to fight. It's an effective, non-permanently damaging torture used on vampires by those that know the biology, since it's painful, intensely uncomfortable and won't actually kill the subject or knock them out. Of course, Monique likely doesn't know the ins and outs of vampire biology - why would she? The only thing she needs to know is how to kill them, and even that is something she hasn't asked him about yet - but she obviously has something more specific in mind.

He turns to regard her, and lifts an eyebrow. Defanging? That's something he didn't expect of Monique, to be honest. Whilst in hindsight it's a good, nonlethal way of sending a message (and a way that will heal eventually), it never even occurred to him that that might be what she's planning. Whether because it's too harsh or too lenient for her, he isn't sure. On the one hand, he expected her to do something much more obviously severe, like removing his fingers or pulling his nails or something. Something that will cause a lot more pain and take a lot longer to do, and something she can relish. On the other hand...defanging is a mark of great disrespect to a Vampire, since you are removing the very thing that identifies him. Fangs are a vampires main weapon, symbol and tool, and by taking it away you are permanently dishonouring him in the eyes of his fellow vampires...and to be defanged by somebody that he personally had written off as "just a human?" Even more humiliating. He doesn't know whether Monique knows it or not, but it is a stroke of brilliance. Dishonour without looking too harsh...it will heal, and his only lasting wound will be pride, but it sends a clear message to everybody else who would think to disrespect her. He's impressed. So impressed, in fact, that he'll actually help her. The entourage insulted him too, however ineffectually. It's a matter of principle.

"The same way anybody removes a specific tooth," he notes dryly, "You grab and pull very, very hard." He chuckles wryly, then takes a few steps forwards, puffing on his pipe. He looks down at the spluttering, effectively incapacitated vampire. Pathetic. A wannabe vampire who doesn't know how to control his own vampire. It wouldn't surprise him if he learnt that this poor wretch was only freshly turned. He's certainly acting like it, with his puffed-up sense of importance and delusion that he looks suave and professional. He just looks like a moron. His nose twitches into a partly-almost-sneer, then smooths as he turns his back on him, facing Monique once more. "Place him in direct sunlight," he gestures at a patch in front of the window, "and that will reduce his physical abilities to human level, including his physical resilience to injury. Once he's there, apply a great force to the tooth you want to remove. It's up to you how you desire to do it, but in direct sunlight, it will only be as hard as removing a human tooth."

He glances at the door, and chuckles mirthlessly. "Personally, I would attach his tooth to the doorhandle and slam the door. You have to respect the classics, after all...but that may not give you the personal experience that you desire, I think." He gives another short, dry chuckle, and stands to the side in front of the table, just out of direct sunlight. Whilst he can survive in sunlight, it isn't a pleasant experience knowing that you are effectively human. You still have to be killed a specific way, of course...but he doesn't like the vulnerability. Makes him uncomfortable, as you can imagine. But right now? Right now, this is Monique's show...and he has a feeling it is about to become rather grizzly. Tristan doesn't mind; he rather enjoys a performance in the morning.

OOC – I thought we had agreed that all Mages had telekinetic abilities? To an extent.

BIC –

I couldn’t help but smile at the string-and-door-handle trick we all knew as kids. Except when we were kids it was like a right of passage to loose one’s teeth. It singled that we were growing up into the adults we are today. There were few things that matched up to how proud we felt when our parents congratulated us on loosing a tooth. In this situation however, the childish vampire loosing his teeth would gain nothing. He would not feel pride or want to show off his missing fangs. Instead, until a new one grew, he would hide in shame of what a ‘human’ did to him. And I would love every waking second of it.

“No it wouldn’t… I do like the creativity behind it though.” I answered, the spinning sphere still engulfing the greasy man’s head. Slowly and steadily I stood him up by raising the sphere that had a grip on his head as though I was using my very hands to pick him up by his neck. He dangled a few inches off the ground, struggling to do something that might get him out of this situation and to avoid what he knew was coming. I couldn’t tell if his expression had changed past the moving water, but there’s no doubt he heard what we intend to do to him.

As Tristian said, I moved his kicking, fussing raised body over to the window with the most direct sunlight. The man already being taller than me, I was just tall enough that with my arms fully stretched out towards his face I could reach his mouth. God, he was starting to kick and convulse even more. He could see everything perfectly that was going on – he could feel himself fully weakened by the sun. He understood at this point just how royally fucked he was.

Easily, I manipulated the pressure of the water to force his mouth open and show me those pearly whites. He was trying so hard to fight back, but he didn’t totally understand what he should be fighting. He tried to raise his arms at me but the more he tried, the harder and stronger the pressure on his neck became. Maybe it worried him, maybe it didn’t – but he stopped none the less when I did it. There in his mouth was going to be my parting present from him, in memory of our oh so successful attempt at partnership. “Now, I'm pretty certain this isn’t going to kill you – but again, I'm not exactly the expert on how to put you guys down. So, this might just seriously hurt. And break every bone in your body.” The second I finished, I reached my hands into the sphere effortlessly, as though it wasn’t even there. Tightly I grabbed hold of his two fangs, making sure I had a good firm grip so as to not let them slip between my fingers.

His eyes caught mine. He was staring down at me with a face I can only imagine is begging me not to do this. Then he glances down towards my hands, and back to me like he was wondering. “Oh this? No no, I wasn’t talking about this.” I paused, smirking and ready to finally end this dreadful morning. “I was referring to this.” With that, his body went back with a tremendous force. The moment his body broke the glass of the window, the water was released and the screams of the human-like-vampire falling nearly 20 stories could be clearly heard. This window faced the back parking lot – no major city blocks or buildings that would catch and eye. Maybe a handful of civilians, but normally people are all at work this time of day. And the ones that aren’t? Well, they’d just think theyre crazy.

The force of his body flying back through the window and the gravity pulling him down was just want I needed to rip the fangs out. All I had to do was pull against it as he flew, and with two very bloody pointed fangs in my palms right now – I’d say it worked rather well. Ha, I think he finally hit the ground. What luck! He didn’t end up damaging any cars. I stepped towards the window, looking down at what I was all too pleased with. His men were already down there, waiting for their leader before getting into their limo. The body of their colleague now laid on the payment unconscious . Oh he’ll come around eventually, there’s no way they’re THAT easy to kill. Quickly they collected his body and moved it into the limo in a panic state. I stuck my head noticeably out the shattered window. “Have a wonderful day gentlemen! Send my regards to the Bealien family!” I smiled and waved goodbye as they left. The only thing that could ruin this moment is what I know is going to; The scolding I'm about to get from Andrew, who will likely call my brother and I’ll have to hear it from Marcus for two hours, and maybe Tristian.

“So. That went well right?”

OOC: Did we? It's not on my write-up. Maybe I missed something. Also, sorry if this post isn't as long or detailed as some of my others...I'm a bit run down. Still really, really tired even though I got 9 hours sleep last night. >.<


IC:

Tristan inclines his head and steps back well out of the way as Monique gets to work. He isn't entirely sure he likes what's happening - it's an uncomfortable experience, watching a defanging, especially since he himself knows firsthand just how intense the shame and humiliation is following such an act - but he also knows better than to get in Monique's way. He isn't actually sure who would win in a fight - if it were night time, he would have the edge, but since they're in an office exposed to the sunrise, he would likely be relegated to human levels - but that isn't why he is cautious of getting involved. Monique is rather....determined when she gets an idea into her head, and very, very rash when she's angry. If she feels like he is getting in the way of what she perceives as just retribution, then he risks souring the alliance between them...and that would be a very bad thing, especially considering the fact that these Bealian representatives are not going to draw a distinction between him and Monique. To them, they'll be one entity. There are advantages in that, of course...but also disadvantages. An insult from one party is an insult from both, after all.

However, as discomforting as it is, he forces himself to watch impassively. Any sign of weakness could lead to more problems, and in order for it to be a true shaming - which he knows Monique us going for - somebody needs to be a witness. That burden falls to him, this time, though he can't help but sympathise. He's a vampire; how could he not feel the need to wince as the fangs are toyed with so casually? They're surprisingly sensitive (though nowhere near fragile), and are a huge part of what a Vampire actually is. To have them removed....it's most vampires worst nightmare. At least, a Markavian's and Ordo Dracul's. It isn't so much a problem for Nosferatu; they lose teeth in fights all the time, and theirs grow back at an alarmingly quick pace. Different biologies, he supposes; their bodies are more accustomed to living and surviving in hostile environments underground, where one nasty fall or a run-in with a particularly aggressive cave dweller could mean the loss of at least a few teeth and a claw or two. Therefore, the bloodlines that happened to grow those losses back quicker were more likely to survive....evolution happens, even amongst Vampires. Makes you think, doesn't it? Or maybe he's just trying to distract himself from the defanging that's playing out before his impassive, though somewhat uncomfortable, eyes.

The vampire is hurled out of the window - he can hear him crashing into the ground below; he'll walk away with a few broken bones and maybe some internal bleeding, but even in sunlight, it won't kill him. It will hurt like a b***h, but as soon as they get him somewhere dark, he'll start to heal - and of course Monique decides to toss out a quippy one liner. So glib, even after humiliating a vampire to the point where he would be surprised if it didn't cause a cold war of some kind. It will probably help their case that Monique was insulted first, that Astereus is a bigger house than Bealian and that this negotiator was probably nothing more than a hastily promoted third-tier diplomat, but it will still cause a lot of hostility between the two parties. Far more than simply dismissing them with an insult, that's for sure....Tristan's eyes momentarily flicker to the pair of fangs in Moniques hand, and ruthlessly suppresses a shudder. The diplomat deserved it, he'll admit, but he doesn't have to be comfortable with it. His mouth twists into a momentary look of disgust, but he smooths it quickly and easily. He does, however, look away from the fangs. He avoids looking in their direction again.

"It could have concluded in a more favourable manner," he says dryly, storing his pipe back in his jacket pocket. He's lost his appetite for tobacco. The sight of those fangs....ugh. Even just the memory of them, all bloody and fresh in her hand...it makes him feel a little nauseous. If you're going to do it to somebody, you have a duty to do it personally or to observe it being done, but you don't have to like it. And you don't have to look at the handiwork later, either. "But it proceeded as you would expect, given their behaviour...and your temper." he lifts an eyebrow at her. He is halfway tempted to lecture her on just why you rise above their kind of bait; it's designed to make you angry, make you make a mistake, and though she didn't quite do what they wanted, she was treading dangerously close to it. "I do not believe that I disagree with your actions -" though he finds them unsettling and sickening, he does not necessarily disagree "- but I do believe that they were ill advised. This could cause problems for us later. Somehow I doubt that House Bealian will be willing to treat with us again."

He shakes his head wryly and turns towards the door of the office, again pointedly not letting himself look at the fangs. It's one thing that just....makes him uncomfortable, regardless of who suffered it. "I expect that we both have much to do...a long day awaits us, I think." He takes a step towards the door, then turns, waiting for her to join him. It is not his place to lecture her on her behaviour, but he at least needs to make clear that whilst he understands and kind of agrees with her actions...he does not condone them. That makes no sense. Gah. This will require some thought; how can he make clear his feelings on the matter to her, if even he doesn't understand them? This whole sordid affair has him feeling extremely conflicted. He isn't sure whether he is impressed or repulsed, or even whether he condones or condemns her actions. Maybe a mixture of all four, if that's even possible. Feelings are messy things. He regrets getting out of Crypt today, and it isn't even ten in the morning yet. On the bright side, today couldn't get any worse. He doesn't say it out loud, though; that would just be asking for trouble.

My eyes blurred as they finally opened up to this new place. I knew I hadn’t kept consciousness, but I wasn’t sure how long I had been lying here. My head was spinning, and as I rolled over onto my stomach, feeling the smooth stone path beneath me. I realized that I was in a dark alleyway. I groaned quietly at the nauseous feeling that had overcome me. I probably just hit my head too hard when I fell back. It takes me a moment for the dizziness to go before I am able to climb to my feet.

When I am on my feet, I look around. It was hard to tell what all was in the alleyway, since it was dark in the area compared to the light of the park I had been in before. Now, all one could see was the outline of wooden crates illuminated by the lights pouring in from the mouth of the alleyway. I turned to inspect the wall that I had fallen through before. Reaching my hand up to the rough brick wall, I felt no give. Now, the wall was solid like it had been at first on the other side. It didn’t really surprise me, I had been introduced to things like this at a very young age. I rolled my eyes, the throbbing in my head slowly subsiding. I never thought that would have been my introduction into this new world. I felt like a complete fool. I was just glad that there was no one else in the area to see me fall like a child onto the ground.

I turned back around, walking to my satchel that had fallen on the ground. I pick it up, looking through it. I was sure that everything was still in its place so I pull it over my shoulder. Turning, I walk down the stone path towards the soft light that had partially illuminated the empty alleyway of boxes. I wondered why I had been directed to this entrance of the underground instead one of the probably more used entrances than this one. I took in a short breath; walking out into the open area.

ooc- Sorry its short. I wanted to get something out before I left. My other posts will not be lacking like this one. Sorry again

OCC- Sorry it's so short. I have to go out for the evening but didn't want to hold it up any longer.

I closed my hands with the bloody fangs still in my palms. Some of it slowly dripping down between my thumb and hand onto the floor, just missing my shoes. “Whatever the day has for me will have to wait… This concludes any meetings or events I have scheduled for today. The second I leave that door I’ll have about 20 minutes of damage control with Andrew and that’s it for my day. Makes me wonder who runs this company sometimes, eh?” I said, in a much more calm and what I guess you could call ‘normal’ tone. The trouble I may have caused myself, that I likely caused myself, is something I’ll deal with when it comes up. For now this ‘House’ is not a concern to me, and this Bealian family will know better the next time they try to pick a fight with me. Or any of us for that matter. Next time I’ll take much more than their fangs… The thought of it brought the biggest smile on my face today.

I walked over to a small table just to the right of the door when you first walk in, ontop there is a small box of tissues. Placing both fangs into one hand I grabbed one and wrapped them up, also cleaning up the blood on my hands. A breeze from the now broken window blew in and just made the scent of the vampires blood that much easier to smell. God it was awful… No offence of course. It was just never something that I got use to.

“Unless you have something to do today that you need me for? Better to ask now because the second I open the door, shit hits the fan. I imagine the sound of the window breaking is something they heard.”

The streets of the Underground were dark, but the alleys were darker, and the dark always had a dangerous, mystery to it. I'm reminded of that as I walk past one of the Black Market's entrances on my way to the Police Department. It wasn't the most efficient route, but I always liked to past by it to see if there was anything (more) out of the ordinary. The street I was currently on wasn't technically part of the Market, but it may as well be to those who deal with it so often. I'm about to turn down another street when I heard a large thud behind me. I quickly turn around to see two men, one against the wall, his hands covering his head, nose bloody, the other holding him against the wall. "You've got one week, you hear me?!" the attacker shouted. I took a couple steps towards the two, still keeping a fair amount of distance between us. "Yeah, one week, I've got it!" the man whimpered as he was dropped on the ground and kicked away. I walked closer to the attacker who was watching the man run away and stopped a couple of inches away. The attacker spun around to throw a punch, but I threw my hand up to catch his fist, stopping the blow. "Is there a problem, Louie?" I asked with a smirk. "Jesus, Mason, don't walk around here like that. You could get hurt."

"Noted," I smiled as I released his hand. Louie was a smaller guy, standing only a 5'6", but most people underestimated him because of that. He stood with a slouch, unless he was fighting, and always had his black hair greased back. "Still dealing with the small fry?" I asked, nodding my head to the man that had run away. "Ah! Guy owes me some money is all. Bought a pretty pricey item from the Boss. Boss simply wants his money back, you know what I'm sayin'?" He chuckles. I nod, unimpressed. "That's fine Louie, just keep this stuff in the Market, we wouldn't want the police getting involved, eh?"

"Oh, eh! Police, come Mason, you know our business is only the utmost respectable organization there is don't ya? We wouldn't like to deal with the police—bad for business—unless of course we was helping them! Know what I'm sayin'?" He chuckles. "I got ya," I reply with a chuckle as I turn and begin to walk away. "Oi, listen up! Boss says he's got some supplies if-" I cut him off, still walking away. "Not interested Louie." He laughs. "Yeah, not interested my ass," he mutters to himself as he walks back into the dark alleys of the Market.

After a while, I make it back to the main street and quickly find myself walking into the Underground Police Department building.  The outside of the building was quite decieving in its perspectives. It seemed much smaller on the outside than on the inside of it and the building seemed very run down and tattered.  On the inside the building was very up to date; very modern looking. The rooms were brightly lit so you could see everyone face very clearly and it always seemed more busy than it actually was. I walk to the front desk. "So, Maria. Any news?"

Doing his best to suppress his disgust until he's at least out of earshot of Monique, he steps up beside her as she approaches the door. He is relieved that she is putting the fangs away - it's the inevitable curse of attention; if you don't want to look at something, your eyes will always inexplicably be drawn back to it, no matter how hard you try to resist - and relaxes a little, able to finally think properly now that those obvious marks of shame are out of his sight. He can still smell the blood, but that is of little consequence; he has spilled a lot of Vampire blood in his time, and it will not drive him into a bloodlust. For one, it is vampire blood - far more bitter and thick and wholly distasteful than human blood, and much, much less spicy than Were blood - and for another, he is not a juvenile. He hasn't gone into a proper bloodlust in centuries...he can give into it if he so desires, but really, why would anybody want to lose control and turn into a bloodthirsty maniac? You lose all semblance of self, all measure of self control...there is not one single advantage to it, save perhaps the unpredictability of his movements in such a state. But regardless...he has work to do.

Unlike Monique, he still has things to do today. House Astereus will not continue without him, and he needs to deal with House Bealian first. Whilst Monique will invariably be a target for them, they will seek to sever House Astereus's connections to her first, in order to isolate her from the Vampire world at large. Besides, if they can figure out a way of dividing the two parties, it will make Monique that much more vulnerable, and House Astereus in a very precarious position. He grimaces slightly. This whole mess may not come to bite Monique, but it most certainly will cause issues for House Astereus, even if it's only minor passive-aggressive things like small trade embargoes or nasty rumours. Politics...it really isn't pleasant, especially with a House as petty as Bealian. He really wishes Monique hadn't taken their bait.

"Nothing comes to mind," he says, after a moments silent consideration. "I have some minor housekeeping to attend to, as well as a few precautions to set in place, but nothing I require your assistance for." His eyes flicker towards the door, and he allows himself a dry almost-smile. "I am afraid that I cannot offer you an escape from the lecture you are about to receive.". Nor would I desire to, he adds silently. He likes Monique well enough, but the way that meeting ended...very, very ill-advised on Moniques side. More trouble than it was worth, in his opinion. If she's to deal with the Vampire Houses, she'll need to learn to keep her temper, or she could end up annoying some very powerful people...and she could end up dragging him in as well. The thought makes him want to shiver a little, though he suppresses the urge. "After you, Ms Terren," he says, gesturing gracefully towards the door with one hand. He is, of course, a gentleman...and there is also the matter of Andrew. The first person through that door will likely get yelled at, and he would rather the person responsible for the mess got the worst of it. He stops himself from letting out a wry snort at the thought.

Ooc: Sorry, it's shorter than anyone's, but I have no idea what my character is doing right now.

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I wasn't sure what I was doing in the market, as I had no business here. I had no money to spend and nothing sparked my interest so far. I didn't even know what I truly wanted looked like. There were people everywhere and it made me feel uneasy. I probably looked like some lost pet to them. Sighing, I turned to leave the area, hoping to leave the crowds behind. I recognized no one. The ground was hard and I was tired. It was still morning but I had little sleep and that rare breakfast had caused me to grow sleepy.

I didn't want to intrude on Shane's hospitality before he was expecting me. I was nice that he'd allow me to stay under his roof for the night, but that was many hours away and I just needed to close my eyes for a little while. I made my way along the outskirts of the market, looking down the alleyways for a decent place to leave. It was dangerous alone in places like this and in order to sleep, I needed to hide. Choosing a path at random, I made my way along it, spotting some boxes which I could use as a makeshift bed. Looking up at the sky, it didn't appear to be too clouded over so rain would probably not disturb me. I moved over to the boxes and stepped onto them, my paws sliding a little. They were warm. Had someone been lying here? I turned my head from side to side to see if there was anyone else in this alleyway. There were a few people in the open areas coming to and from the market, but I couldn't see anyone near me for now. That didn't mean they weren't there, though.

OOC: Apologies for the short post. I don't wanna get too far ahead of the rest of the group.

IC:

Zalgo scanned the alleys off the main street of the Goblin Market as he walked past them. Mostly dark alleys, places where gangs of Mages, Vampires, and Shifters hid while looking for their next mark. Luckily, their activity seemed to stray away during siesta hours. No business meant no one to mug, and no one to mug meant no cash flow. Good for him, since he didn't need them taking his wallet. Again.

Zalgo stopped in front of a building about 4 blocks down from his apartment and, facing the street, pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket along with the lighter. He brought the cigarette to his lips, flicked the lighter once, twice, three times, and nothing. Outta juice. Great. He thought to himself, letting the cigarette sit in his lips as he pulled his other hand back, flicked the lighter one more time for a spark, snapped his fingers, and the cigarette was lit. Oh, shit. It actually worked for once. He thought, surprised. That spell worked for him maybe twenty percent of the times he'd used it. Maybe today won't be such a bad day after all. He put the lighter back in his pocket, took a drag from the cigarette, and continued on his way, using his free hand to tap a rhythm on his leg. One, one two. One, one two. One, one two.

Clever, doesn’t want to be the one first out that door. Very clever, and smart on his part. I wouldn’t want to be in my shoes either given the choice, but I suppose I had it coming and can’t expect any less. What I did wasn’t exactly the best decision, but oh hell did it ever make me feel better. And I'm sure the Bealien House got my message loud and clear. The next time they decide to screw around with me and my business, I’ll do more than just take their teeth. “How that must have felt... to be truly human for a moments time,” I said with the sound of amazement in my tone. “To have everything that makes you different suppressed and the rest torn from you… It must have been terrifying. Humans would never have survived that fall.. Do you think the thought crossed his mind that he’d die like that? Die in the same way a human could, to die AS a human?” I asked rhetorically, staring at the door between Tristan and I. I shook my head lightly, and took a deep breath. Enough, it was time to get Andrew’s wrath over with.

I opened the door with my free hand, and to my complete surprise it was as though nothing had happened. The secretaries of the floor were still at their desks going about their business, men in suits raced across the floors with piles of paperwork in their hands like any other day. What the hell happened? No one even gave us a second glance, except for the few that greeted us as Ms. Terren and Mr. Astereus as they passed. I looked to Tristian with a face of pure confusion. Why was no one out of their chairs terrified? Why was no one asking questions?

Andrew. I found him out of the corner of my eye near the elevator – not the public one, the executive one. Only my staff, myself, and Tristian of course can use it as it requires a palm activation. Silly? Not really. When we need to be somewhere I don’t intend to make 10 stops along the way in a crammed elevator. Anyways, back on track. The expression on his face was pure emptiness. There was no smile, but no frown. No glare on his eyes but he looked right at me. If a person was purely without emotion, Andrew is a prime example of what he or she would look like. His hands were crossed in front of him, one hand over the other with no firm grip that I could see. Why isn’t he in rage? Why isn’t he lecturing? Why is he just patiently standing there, waiting for me.. What he hell has gotten into everyone?

“If you should find out what we apparently fucking missed.. Let me know. I’ll be in my office for a couple hours at least. I expect I’ll see you later on, enjoy your day Tristian.” And with that I left, and in a faster pace made my way towards Andrew. The elevator door opened the moment I got to him, to which he walked into before I even had the chance to speak to him. He expects me to follow – and honestly I’d be pushing it not to. The doors closed in front of us as he activated the elevator, telling it to take us to the top floor where my office is – just my office actually. And that’s when shit finally did hit the fan.

There was no warning for what I was feeling. The pressure feeling in my neck felt as though it was caving in on itself. I couldn’t breathe, for there was no air. I was chocking, suffocating, but nothing was touching me. As a reflex I grabbed for my neck but felt nothing, and before kneeling down to the ground desperate for air I turned to Andrew, who was still in the same statue state he was when I first saw him. He was doing this, easily. Effortlessly. Remember when I said if I had to pick one person in the room to be afraid of?

“You could have gotten people hurt today. You could have blown our cover today. You could have put thousands of lives and their safety in jeopardy. Did you? No. Because you got lucky, not because you knew what you were doing. Don’t forget that. You’ve done a lot of stupid shit in your time of power, but this? You nearly involved the public when you shot him through that window. And that puts you in a whole new ball game Monique. One that I wouldn’t have been able to pull you out of.”

Those were the last words before the lack of oxygen finally knocked me out. The blackness came slowly, and with pain. A lot of pain. The thought of dying never crossed my mind – he couldn’t kill me if he wanted. But that’s a story for another day.

OOC – So she’s like, out. Like knocked out. So wherever the time skip brings us is where I’ll wake her up in my next post.

Maria had been with the Underground Police Department for years. I'm sure she started working there years before I was born. She was in her mid-forties and was fairly tall,  only a couple inches shorter than myself, and she never took shit from anyone. She used to be on the front line of the department—usually dealing with things like domestic disputes and such—until a serious injury has prevented her from going back out there. About five or six years ago, a few before I joined the force, her and her partner were out chasing this robber and when she took off ahead of her partner and turned the corner, was confronted by a were-tiger. Before she could react it attacked her, nearly ripping her arm off and leaving her with a great loss of blood. Luckily her partner was able to get her to the hospital before she passed, but she's been (one of) the departments secretary ever since. She's too afraid to risk another incident like that, although she doesn't admit it.

"No Mason, I don't have any new for you, what do I look like, your personal assistant?" she responded with a sarcastic tone. "Because if that is what I look like, let me know, because I'll get on that right away Mr. Mason, sir. Ya smart ass. If I heard anything, you'd hear something, okay?" She spoke without looking up at me as she wrote and stamped a form in front of her. When she finished, she looked up with a smile and chuckled. "Someone's a little more sassy than usual," I smiled back at her. "Because I haven't had no fucking coffee this morning, I'll tell you that much." She said before going back to her work. "I'll get on that right away,  Mrs. Maria, ma'am!" She looked back up for a moment with a raised eyebrow and an obviously unimpressed look on her face. "See, no one likes a bitch." I added. "Yeah, and no one likes a smart ass either, now get out of here. If I heard anything, I'll let you know, otherwise your unit isn't needed. Now get loss."

I raise my hands slightly joking a surrender as I walked away. I didn't talk to very many people around the department; never had the need to. I spoke to the people in my unit, my boss, and Maria because I always respected her attitude. Everyone else I kept them on a need to basis, only talking to them if I actually needed to. I don't like casualties with most people, so I don't bother with them if I can. People in the department knew that though and left me alone. It's not that they were afraid of me—like I'd hurt them if they'd talk to me—just knew my preferences and decided to respect that. A lot of other people were like that in the department too; it actually kept the department quite efficient. Occasionally I'd give a smile and a nod to someone if they made the effort to talk, but it didn't happen that often.

As I make my way throughout the department, I head to the locker rooms to check on my gear. Each day I liked to come by and just check everything, make sure it was clean and ready to go on a notice. I liked to have my gear ready at a moment's notices so I wasn't fumbling around with it. When I got inside the locker rooms was empty save one person taking a shower. I didn't bother to see who it was and went straight to my locker. Opening it I took out everything inside and placed all my gear on the long bench in front of it, laying it out in an orderly fashion.
On the inside of my locker door was a picture of a young man who looked to be around sixteen. He had scruffy hair and the first trace amounts of facial hair on his upper lip and sideburns, though he most have shaven only days before this picture. He was smiling. I took of the wolf necklace I had purchased this morning and hung it on the side of the picture (using tape to hold it there like I did with the picture). I looked at the picture for a second before turning back to my gear.

Tristan resists the urge to grit his teeth as they leave the room, Monique babbling callously about the vampire she just defanged and ejected from the building. True, they had it coming, and true he doesn't harbour any sympathy for them personally, but still....it is just not done to wish that kind of fate on somebody who only actually insulted you. There are degrees of retaliation, and what Monique did would usually be considered "disproportionate retribution..." and in fact, he would apply that label here. She lost her temper, yes, but the negotiator did not physically threaten her or her friends, he did not make any move to harm her, he did not outright threaten that her business would come under attack from House Bealian - and even if he had, the chances are that such a threat would have been empty bluster and nothing more - and he certainly did not say anything bad enough to warrant being defanged and kicked out of the building. He had been forced to go along with it - he can't allow any fractures to become visible in their alliance - but he doesn't have to like it. And her gloating afterwards....he doesn't mind Monique, but such callous disregard for the severity of what she's just done is galling and vaguely offensive.

Oh sure, she didn't defang and eject anybody he personally knew or cared about, or even anybody that he was even vaguely sympathetic towards, but when performing such a serious act on somebody, at least show some kind of regard for people who may have been made uncomfortable with it. If you're performing a shaming on a Vampire - a shaming that is probably the most serious thing you could do to them short of killing them - at least show some regard for the fact that the Vampire sitting next to you may not be comfortable with it. Instead, she gloats and laughs about it, even making morbid, vaguely sadistic jokes about the nature of their weaknesses....she isn't directing it at him, and she doesn't mean any offence, but such a thing is a touchy subject amongst Vampires, and she would do well to remember that. Some Vampires won't be as tolerant of offence as he is. He manages to retain his composure, however - for one such as him, composure is everything; you can't afford to lose your temper or show discomfort unless necessary or unavoidable - but says nothing. He has nothing to say to her little jokes and quips, and so remains silent as they enter the antechamber.

She leaves fairly quickly, after spotting Andrew in the corner of the room, staring at her intently....even Tristan treats that man with no small amount of caution. Though he has never gotten the impression that Andrew dislikes him, anybody that can call Monique - as stubborn and arrogant as she can be - to heel with nothing as much as a complaint is somebody to be dealt with with respect and caution. Honestly, whilst Tristan reckons he could at least escape an encounter with the man, he would rather not put that to the test. He has the look of experience about him, and the willingness to use everything he knows....all of this is guess work, of course - his spies have been able to turn up nothing on the man thus far - but he would rather stay ignorant than find out the hard way. What you don't know can kill you, and whilst Andrew is content to leave his capabilities unknown to Tristan, Tristan sees no reason to provoke a confrontation. As it is, their opinions on Monique's actions frequently align, so they have had little to no reason for animosity as of yet. He gives her a curt farewell nod in return - along with a characteristically polite "until next time," - and turns to leave himself.

He doesn't even need to gesture for the Twins to follow him, both of them falling in about two steps behind him, as he moves towards the public elevator. They aren't the only members of his security detail in the building, but they're his two bodyguards. They're physical creatures, so require proximity to him to do their jobs, and they are also an obvious distraction. They need to deal with these two, so they may miss the other three or four security officers stationed in the surrounding area. Tristan leaves nothing to chance; he has more than enough protection for his own person, to the point that only a great fool would attack him. Even were they to get past his bodyguards, they would have to deal with him....and anybody who got past the Twins would be tired, injured....and unprepared to deal with an angry vampire. Tristan doesn't usually get angry, of course; it would be unbecoming of a gentleman like him....but his foes don't usually know the difference. He enters the elevator alone, his Guards stopping anybody else from entering with him - he doesn't mind other people, but the Twins are nothing if not fastidious in his protection....a quality that is hardly a bad thing in boydguards - and they begin the journey down to the ground floor. He has plenty more errands to run today, and very little time to do them. Paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. He has purchase histories to peruse, spy reports and espionage assessments to go over, assassinations to arrange, interrogations to improve, interviews for new staff, stock inventories, employee disputes....work work work. Another boring day in the life of a House Head....he sighs and shakes his head. No rest for the wicked, he supposes.


[OOC: So, the murder thingy will happen in my next post. Just a heads up to get your characters in a position to react in a way that will bring them together! ]

Ooc: Another short one, sorry. I'm just fluffing until we get to the excitement from Murdoch =)

My plan was to sleep here for a while. Yes, it was the middle of the day, but in order for me to be fully alert, my body required me to sleep in spurts during the day. This applied to most canines. In my situation, I couldn't risk not being totally aware of my surroundings. I needed to be on the alert at all times, and this included protecting myself as I rested. This spot amongst the boxes would have been an ideal place. It was sheltered, hidden, and right beside the market so if anything were to happen, I'd know about it immediately. However, the feeling of company swayed me. I wasn't comfortable lowering my guard when I suspected someone else was in the vicinity. I didn't think I was alone, so I couldn't rest.

Even if I had someone whom I trusted like Shane as my body guard, in a situation like this where I felt so uneasy, I still couldn't bring myself to rest fully. Perhaps I would leave sleep for now and find somewhere else to rest. It was a shame this would have been the perfect location, but the fact that the boxes were warm and crushed as though recently lied upon, and the sense of something else around, made me nervous and I no longer wanted to rest my head here.

This must have been a small outlet of the main market. In the distance, one could hear the sound of crowds in the distance. They were not large crowds—no you could tell by their volume—but crowds all the same. Where I had ended up was a small square. The light was dim and seemed to be coming from lanterns, but only few could be seen on the faces of buildings. It was not artificial like the lights on busses or in the large buildings of the city I had just come from. No, this place seemed warm and welcoming. I wasn’t particularly sure if all of the places held this same feeling (I highly doubted it), but right now, I couldn’t hold back the smile as if formed on my lips.

This place was quiet with only a few shops lining the four sides that surrounded a statue of some sort. I was sure this wasn’t the busiest this place had been as the shops seemed to be company to a handful of patrons at a time. I took a step out so I could better view my surroundings. There was little here, but the longer I watched, the more I noticed that this place always had a small trickle of people stepping through into the area via a wall opposite of its seemingly one exit. A bar sat opposite the mouth of the alley that I had just stumbled out of. Outside, a small sign advertised rooms for tired travelers. Looking inside the two double doors, the place had a little more than ten customers, lined up at the long bar and spread out around the wide room drinking, eating, and playing cards with one another. A quiet tune could be heard softly being carried through the air from another unknown place, but no one seemed to notice. They went about their business like they had done before, most of them worrying themselves with other things or looking ahead. Unless accompanied by a partner, it seemed that no one really made eye contact with anyone else.

Wanting to get a better look at everything, I made my way across the space, pulling myself into the tributary of people leaving the square. They must’ve known where they were going, so I followed them all. Some broke off from the group, stopping at the bar or at the other shops that we passed by. Everything was so new, and as I watched, I couldn’t help but be drawn back out of the stream of people. A line of stalls met the entrance to another alleyway that opened up into a larger area. The vendors, all differing in age, size, appearance, and species called to the people as they passed, trying to sell their goods.

“Handcrafted jewelry!” one called. “Roasted Pecans and Fresh Fruit!” another called. The third sat, leaning back in his chair, seemingly asleep to the world. He snored loudly and often got strange looks from those passing by. The sweet scent of sugar is what had stopped me, so I stood back from the stall, watching as a very short man stood on a stool, pushing nuts around in a large copper kettle. I couldn’t help but grin at the cinnamon-sugary fragrance that wafted through the area.

“They’re fresh made! Nice and hot” The woman who had been yelling before saw me eyeing her product, but I kept silent, only watching for the moment. She thought she had a hook in me, and for all I knew, she did. They sure did smell good; I had always been a sucker for sweets.

ooc: I think it's, like, 11:56 by now for me, so I'll keep it short again. almost siesta, after all.

ic:

Zalgo glanced at the various stalls on the other side of the street. Four minutes and they'd be closed, might as well buy something before siesta to keep himself awake for the next couple hours. He strode up to one, marked as "Emporium of Waking Sleep", manned by a pair of goblins he recognized as the Gorrus brothers. As soon as he stepped up to the stall, both brothers, speaking in tandem, said "Hey, hey Z, need somethin' for the show tonight? Keep people interested? We got some E, we got X, we got Meth, we got --" Zalgo cut them off by holding a hand up. He took the cigarette from his mouth, dropped it on the ground, and smooshed it out with his foot while pulling the notebook and pen from his pocket. He began writing in it, and as he wrote the words, they appeared in front of him in a shimmering green color for about 5 seconds before fading.

"Coffee. Woke up about 20 minutes ago."

The Gorruses looked mildly dejected at his refusal to buy their "special wares", but did pull a cup of black coffee from under the stall. "Alright, fine. Have it your way. That's 2 bucks." Zalgo did a half smile, wrote 3 letters in his notebook, ripped the paper out, placed it on the surface of the stall, grabbed the coffee, and walked away towards the Jaded Belladonna before the brothers could react. Again, while he wrote, the letters appeared in the same shimmering green, this time over the paper left on the stall. "IOU"

Outside the door I could hear the whispering voices of two men arguing what felt like for a good five minutes. Not that I could hear exactly what they were saying, but I could tell they were getting nowhere in their conversation. One of them kept raising his voice ever so slightly, to which the other man hushed him down – probably assuming that I'm still out cold. I’ve been conscious for a solid 10 minutes which is why I know that the second man only arrived a short while ago since I could hear MY front door opening. Yes, we were in my condo - one doesn’t forget the feeling of her own bed. I half expected to wake up in the trunk of a car – a long story from the last time I think I messed up this royally. Essentially, I was 17 and stupid, and there may have been two less beach houses on the coast of Florida that year.


Back to the two men, who had now gone completely quiet in what I assume to be the living room since I doubt they’re standing right outside my bedroom door. There’s no point to making them believe I'm still out now, there’s nothing to listen closely too. I wish I had been able to hear who the second one was that Andrew had so lightly brought into my home. I have a strong feeling that it’ll be the least of my worries in about five minutes though.

I sat up slowly – still in my clothes from work – trying to make as little noise as possible, I don’t want them to know I'm up till I come out of the room. I was no longer wearing my shoes, so making my way off the bed and to the door silently was easy. As I reached for the door knob, my stomach knotted up tightly and it felt like it was going to drop right out of me. It would be silence between the two of us for the next little while, as it always is when I ‘do something wrong’. Which, normally it is and it kills me to not speak. But this time he won’t get an apology from me, what I did was justified. What I did to that vampire was not just directed at him, it was for the entire lot of them. The men in the meeting, the men who were supposed to be there, the Bealien family, it was for all of them. For every person that thinks they can walk into my territory, into my business built by my family and spit at me like that.

Finally I opened the door, and without hesitation quickly made my way down the hallway to my living room. Andrew was sitting on the couch with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other and a look of pure exhaustion on his face. “You look like washed up middle aged man who just found out he can’t get his motorcycle.” No reaction from him, and I didn’t expect one. He just took a drag from his cigarette, which he knows I hate having in the house. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this miserable before, with the exception of when my parents died. I haven’t completely figured out why yet, it’s like he said. Things could have gone badly but they didn’t. So why all this silent treatment depression drama?

“You suffocate me to the point of passing out, and then have the nerve to smoke in my house and drink my alcohol. It’s almost like you’re angry with me Andrew.”

“Shut up Monique.”
“Oh you want me to shut up? Why not just put me out again? Seems to be your solution to everything instead of talking. Go ahead – do it. Cause that’s the only way you’re getting me to be quiet.”

“She’s right you know.”

And there it went, my stomach felt like it finally had dropped out of me. My face froze, and suddenly I felt like an idiot. The voice of the second man, I should have been able to recognize it before now when it was loud and clear. Who would Andrew let in my house? Who else can get into my house besides Andrew and myself?

I slowly turned around to look at the man standing in the doorway of my kitchen. He stood tall, very tall. About 6’2”, and the same colour hair and eyes as me. He wore the pants to a charcoal suit and a white dress shirt, with the same drink in his hands as Andrew. My older brother, “Marcus.”

“Hello baby sister.” It would have taken an apocalypse to get him here.. What the hell was going on?

OOC- this post is also going to be short as I don't want to stray too far from the station before anything happens.

IC- The rest was routine. I placed everything from head to toe down along the bench starting with the helmet and goggles, finishing with the shin padding and boots, and everything in between. The uniform for the response team was light and durable. It was designed to be easy to put on and was ventilated enough so the person inside didn't overheat while inside. Because the Response Unit of the UPD was so small, each uniform was personally customize to their specific needs. Members of the units that were shifters, like myself, allowed for selected areas to detach (internally) should they need to shift while in uniform. Uniforms for the mage members had much more physically durable equipment and stuck on strong to the body so they couldn't be detached easily. It costed a lot more money, but ultimately was wroth the extra cost for the safety of the Response Team. The department also increased protection in regular police uniforms, but decided that since the Team would be facing bigger threats, they needed better protect. It made sense to me, but I'm a little bias on that subject since I benefit from the gear upgrade.

"Everything in working order Mason?" a voice rings out in the locker room. I look up to see a coworker of mine standing with a towel around his waist. "Landon," I say quiet as I look at him. He smiles before laughing. "Have you ever gone one day without coming into this locker room and checking on your gear? It seems like every time I've been in here, you're at your locker checking out your gear," he says pointing to everything laid out on the bench in front of me.
Landon joined the Department about a year before me, and is only two year older than myself. He isn't in the Response Unit, but he works out in the field, usually patrolling areas like the Goblin Market and the outskirts of the Black Market; I've never actually caught him in there before however. His locker was beside mine so he walked over and I couldn't help but follow him walk. He was dry for the most part but his towel just barely hung onto his waist. "Not unless they've forced me on vacation or something," I joke before turning back inspect my gear. He chuckles and opens his locker to get dressed. I don't turn around until he's done changing though; the inspection keeps me busy. I turn around to put my boots back in my locker as he finishes fixing his collar. "Everything good?" he asks referring to my gear without looking over. He fiddles with his collar. "Yup. Everything looks great," I response nonchalantly.

"Awesome, what about me?" He asks turning to face me, his hands by his side and a smile on his face. I glance over at him and nod. "Looking good dude," I smile briefly before returning back to put my gear away. "Alright. While my shift started five minutes ago so I'll see you around." As he walks away, I toss my left hand up and his catches it with a high five as he walks out of the locker room. The last thing I put back into my locker is my helmet. "Ah fuck," I mutter to myself as I sit on the bench, my elbows resting on my knees. My locker remains open as I plop my head into my hands and run them through my hair.

Ooc: This is gonna be short, since I'm kinda tired and I want to get this out so people can move along.


IC:

Hrm. This....might be a problem. Just another horrible issue to deal with on another horrible day. Oh, the day hasn't been that bad (besides the meeting, of course) but right now, Tristan feels like dramatising. After he had left Monique's office building, his bodyguards and security teams in tow, he had returned to his modest but obviously wealthy estate to see to some business. His Spy Masters always brief him every six hours on the movings of the various houses and their agents - and more often, if something big happens - and it was about time for one of those briefings once again. Nothing particularly interesting save some of the basic moves of agents around houses and shipments being tampered with (no word yet on Bealian's reaction to Monique's little stunt at the office building, but he doesn't doubt that will be part of tonights report), so not much that demands his attention or his time. After that he had some basic paper work to deal with, authorising or rejecting appeals and requests, reviewing his soldiers arms and equipment, writing letters and organising meetings with other Houses to conduct business...and then this. His Spy Master had come rushing in in the middle of Tristan's morning scotch during one of his few breaks from the mind numbing tedium of running a business, and after a short conversation in hushed tones, Tristan had regretfully had to finish his scotch in one gulp - the advantage in being a Vampire is that you just don't get drunk, and there's no sense in wasting good alcohol - and follow his Spy Master out of the room.

He had gotten to the Goblin Market ASAP; such an event as was reported by his Spy Master deserves closer inspection, particularly if the Spy Master herself had verified the claims and found them alarming. Nothing's on the news yet - UPD are probably on their way right now, which means the news networks will be a little bit slower in arriving - but that will change pretty damn quickly, and a lot of spies are probably already surveying the scene. As it is, Tristans Spy master should have been enough to give him the information he needs, but for things such as this...he prefers to have his own eyes on the scene of the crime, rather than just pictures. It helps him think. Traffic hadn't been that bad, and he actually managed to get to the scene of the crime a few minutes before the UPD managed to get there, meaning he got to have a good up close look at the body..before UPD showed up only a few moments later and ushered everybody out of the area and set up a barrier. No matter. He can still see the body from here, and the quite frankly alarming sight around it.

Now don't get him wrong; Tristan has seen - and made - his fair share of dead bodies before. He is, after all, a Vampire. What is alarming about it is the quite frankly wasteful way in which the poor man was killed, and the implications it has. The body is lying face up in the middle of a small side street, a man of about thirty years of age with weathered features, dark, dirty hair and a rough and uneven beard. A few of his teeth are missing, and his nails are long and dirty. His scrappy, filthy clothes - with many an old, frayed hole and ragged ends too old to have been caused by the killer - mark him as a homeless man, one of the many squatters who roam the back alleys of the Underground. He was probably here to try and steal some food from a Goblin Market bin. Risky, perhaps, but it's either get caught and maybe get punished, or don't steal and definitely die. It's a hard life to live, that's for sure....well. Not for him. The cause of death? Well, that's pretty obvious. There are large claw marks crisscrossing his body, huge tears in his clothes where whatever attacked him ripped them to get at his flesh. Large sections of the body are cut open, blood spilled everywhere but, strangely, no sign of any internal organs spilling out. In his brief view of the body - and based on his Spy Masters reports - he can pretty much safely conclude that the organs that are reached through those cuts - primarily the heart, lungs and stomach - are probably all gone. Oh, and his left leg is missing as well, taken off at the knee from what looks like a bite. Not pleasant at all.

He looks around. Already a crowd is gathering, as are the various Underground Emergency Services. No doubt the UPD will be taking people in for questioning soon...which also means him. He could leave now, but they've seen his face and leaving now would just arouse suspicion. It would be better to stay here and be questioned as a possible witness, rather than hunted down as a possible suspect. Unlikely, but he doesn't want to take the risk. Turning away from the barrier, he wanders over to a wall and leans on it, watching events carefully. Those markings....they don't look like anything that Tristan has ever seen before. That in and of itself is worrying. He has a feeling that this will get worse before it gets better...he just hopes that it gets better pretty damn soon. This will certainly put the rest of his plans today back a few steps.

There appeared to be a commotion by the market place. I had just come by there and hadn't noticed anything so whatever happened probably only just happened. I shouldn't get involved, it could be dangerous.

Loud voices rang in the air and i could hear the bustle of footsteps cascading down the rocky streets and people ran, and the dim buzz of many people talking in hushed tones. Police? Witnesses? What happened? I shouldn't get involved, it could be dangerous.

My ears perked up as I listened to the sounds of the day, the people, the racket. I shouldn't get involved, it could be... But my curiosity got the better of me.

I made my way down the side-street in the direction of the noise to see a crowd gathering around a particular area of the market. What was going on? Emergency services were already on the site. This must be bad.

“Handmade jewelry!” The person across the way had begun to yell again at those passing by. I watched him only a moment before I took the few extra steps toward the booth. I had been hooked in. It was probably a mistake, but I didn’t mind paying an extra few dollars on food. I was sure I looked like a tourist at this point; I felt so out of place that it was hard to keep from just walking out of the market and back home.

“Two dollars” The woman spoke up as she gestured to the man behind her to toss her a small, rolled up pack of pecans. I hummed quietly to myself; it was a treat I rarely got to enjoy in my childhood and I was very willing to pull my wallet from my bag, take two dollar bills out of the small pocket, and hand it over to the woman. She smiled at me in thanks before handing me the package.
I untwisted the tie greedily, only nodding to the woman before melding back into the crowd and continuing on my journey. I took a pecan into my mouth, savoring the flavor for a moment before biting down on the meaty little nut. I smiled to myself as we continued toward what I assumed was the main market, but as we progressed, the crowd grew thicker and moved slower. There were whispers back in the crowd, and I listened as I feasted on my snack.

“There was a death on the side street?” One man’s voice carries over all the rest and I can hear him. Others perk up at the sound and soon, there are many that push out of the slow moving crowd to take other routes into the market; they were the smart ones.

The sounds of the market got closer and louder as the crowd went from being linear to being in a bunch around a small central area. The crowd had dwindles until it was only myself and a few others around. I could smell the blood from where I was and I pushed more food into my mouth trying to ignore it.

Walking down the street during siesta was probably the most boring thing in the Underground as far as Zalgo was concerned. Maybe he should bug someone close to the Council, see if he can get a rule changed to make life down here more interesting. Doubtful they'd listen, they're set in tradition. Kinda.

Zalgo took a sip of coffee, looking around for people to deal with. Someone to invite to a show, perhaps. Did he have one scheduled? Probably not, but most of the time, he's pretty sure the folks at the Jaded Belladonna were expecting him and the band there, and he wasn't one to disappoint fans. Or nonfans. Or people he didn't know. Or people he didn't particularly like. Well, maybe not that last one, screw those guys.

Then he noticed it. People running towards an alley that already had a sizable mob crowding around it. He stopped in the middle of the street, coffee in hand. Alright, option 1, I go check to see what's happening and be part of the mob, learning why everyone's over there, but also potentially obstructing the way through. Option 2, I don't join the mob and stay ignorant. He thought to himself. After a few seconds he brought his empty hand up to the bridge of his nose and pinched it lightly. Goddamn, what is wrong with me. If I regret this decision, I'm gonna punch my fridge and possibly break a knuckle. And with that, he went off to see what the ruckus was about.

And he saw it. Dead body, bloody, claw marks, large number of people, no cops yet, now everyone nearby was gonna be questioned. But that wasn't what concerned Zalgo at the moment. The thing that concerned him was the claw marks, meaning something's loose, or something's angry, or something's desperate for attention or food, or some combination of them all. Zalgo knew one thing about this, and that was he didn't want to cross this thing's path.

“So you tossed a vampire out of a window, and in the process tore his fangs straight out of his gums… I almost want to compliment you on your creativity if it wasn’t perhaps the most childish things you’ve ever done.” Marcus began his rants, in a tone to this day I’ve never really understood how to interpret. It should be angry, but he sounds oddly relaxed with a flare of sarcasm tucked into every sentence.

“I sent them a message, next time they won’t underestimate us.”

“Oh you sent them a message alright; that you have a short temper and your feelings are easily hurt like a little school girl.”

“My feelings? You think I spilt blood because my feelings were hurt? They came into our hospital that you and I built, spat on us, our acquaintances and everything we stand for. My ‘feelings’ were not part of the equation!”

“So you kill?”

“He lived, don’t be stupid. He may feel like a human and look like a human but he’s a vampire, an Ordo. It’ll take a lot more than a fall and some dental work to kill them, so I imagine.”

“Ordo? Fucksakes, I think you owe Tristian a shot after making him watch that, poor bastard. Where was he in all this?”

“In the room, he wasn’t pleased either – don’t worry. Does he know you’re in town? Or was this visit after two years of no communication but emails just for my bullshit intervention? Cause thats the only time you can make the effort – when Andrew goes running and crying to the big brother. It’s pa-”

I was cut off by the very faint beeping of my alarm, well. One of them at least. I thought maybe I had heard it a few seconds earlier but couldn’t seem to make it out. Not that it’s been ignored it’s gotten louder and louder. Something was happening in the Underground. I haven’t heard that alarm go off in what feels like forever. I looked at Marcus, who knew very well what that alarm meant – it was his idea to have different alarms set for different emergencies. He shot back the last of his drink and followed me to the security room. Andrew looking confused out of his mind. Our argument would be dealt with later, these types of situations aren’t something we can ignore.

That being said, it’s why this alarm is usually silent. My eyes and ears in the Underground find things happening every day that go into a report I read every evening unless suggested otherwise that I do so earlier. Normally it’ll be a phone call, a text, something really informal that says this might be interesting to you – look at it now. But the alarms? The alarms are for a much larger scale; when we and maybe our live are in jeopardy, or when something is about to alter the world around us.

In the security room were photos being displayed on the screen sent to us by the ‘girls’ in what looks to be the Goblin Market. Four of them make up my only ‘spy’ team. Four is all I need… The girls are only seen when they want to be, and when they do they blend – you’d never know the difference between them and any other resident of the Underground. Anyways however… It was a dead body on the streets with claw markings on the back… That I did not recognise for the life of me. It was big, had to have been big to make those marks and do this kind of damage. The bloody leg was missing in a clean… bite? I don’t know for sure. Maybe they aren’t claws or bitings, photos only give you s much before you need to see for yourself. There was nothing heard of what had done it so far, but that there was a panic up roaring down there. So getting more images and close up of the markings would be impossible once the authorities arrived.

“How fast can we get down there?”
“10 minutes at most, get some gear and get the bikes – a car would be mad this time of day with traffic.”

- Skipping the ‘suit-up’ and ‘driving’ scene to get to the Market lol -

Things never change down here, not one thing. It’d been at least 4months since I had come to visit the Market – or the Underground at all for that matter – and there was no need to relearn where everything was. Constants make life a bit easier. Marcus and I had split up to see what we could find and if either of us were able to get closer to the scene. Too many people to bring down guards with us or even a small team – so the girls would be our eyes and ears for any danger. Cloaked I tried to make my way through the crowd, listen to what was being said to try and find out some details, edging my way closer.

Marcus:
Had already found just what he was looking for – Tristian, God only knows why. He knew all too well Tristian would have beaten us here and he was right. Standing over by the authorities patiently waiting to be excused and not draw too much attention to himself. Marcus managed to get in behind him, standing over his right shoulder.
“How is it I always manage to find you in the center of these things?”

OOC - If you'd like to take over Marcus to have a convo with him by all means go ahead.

The idea of Landon lingers in my head for a moment or two before I pull my head out of my hands and stand up. "It wouldn't work anyway. Coworkers are always a bad idea," I laugh at my thoughts as I turn back to my locker. I stare at the picture in my locker for a moment or two and I'm just about to close the door when I hear commotion outside the locker room. Seconds after, I feel my pager beep in my pocket. I quickly grab it and read. "Work." is all it says. It's all that is needed to be said. Tossing the pager in my locker, I begin to strip so I can put on my uniform. "I wonder what's going on," I think to myself as the door to the locker room bursts open and two other members from the Response Unit pile in. "Joey. Adrian. What's going on?" I ask as I continue to get dress. I don't stop to look at them; we're more than capable of getting ready and talking. "We're not 100%. Just got called in. Lucky we were in the building. Addison and Kya are in the other change room getting ready as well," Joey replies already out of this street clothes and in the light, durable, and tight under clothing for the uniform. The Underarmor clothing underneath is for better comfort the uniform on. "All I know is that we have to get down to the Goblin Market," Adrian says as he begins to put on the black uniform. "Goblin Market?" I reply, tightening the last of the straps and tying up my boots. "I was there not too long ago," I sigh under my breath as I stand up and put my helmet on, slamming the locker behind me. "I'll meet you guys in the armoury," I say as I run out of the locker room, the two almost done.

As I run into the armoury I see Kya already inside, grabbing her weapons—mainly her gun and some other items—only briefly looking up to see who burst inside. "Mason. Don't suppose you would happen to know what's going on?" she asks as I start to grab my own weapons. I shake my head and she smiles as the three remaining Response Unit members head in. We didn't stay in too long, and once all five of us had everything we needed, we loaded ourselves into the back of the department Response van. Inside, our chief was already waiting for us. "Welcome guys. Good timing as well." He finishes before turning to the driver noting her to drive us down. "There has been a murder in the Goblin Market, reported about ten minutes ago. Domestic police forces are already down there." The five us look at each other. "The reason the Response Unit was called is because this isn't just a regular murder. It seems that the victim was mutilated and torn apart. This wasn't a simple hit and run, and it seem too violent to be a gang hit. So far we have no leads and no witnesses. I want the five of you to see what you can find, help your fellow police, and get to the bottom of this. What, or whoever, did this was something the Market hasn't seen for years."

I look around the van, Kya, Joey, Adrian, and Addison all have the same look on their face . Confusion; determination; and always a bit a fear thrown in. I'm no different.  We were all capable though. The team consisted on myself and Addison being shifters: me a werewolf, her a skin changer (easily seen by the soft blue tone of her skin); Joey and Kya being mages: Joey an Enchanter Light Mage and Kya a Magus Anima Mage; and Adrian was a vampire, part of the Ordo Dracul family and was the oldest member of the team. My eyes lingers on him the longest because out of everyone on the team, I knew the least about him. It was typical of vampires to only share what information needed to be shared. For the most part, however, we all worked well together. The team was small but we all seemed to have our own strengths and weaknesses, and what each person lacked in could be covered by another. I was by far the physically strongest of the team, but Adrian was clearly the fastest. Addison was the sneakiest member of the team, but Joey was the most reserved and defensive. Of course no team is perfect, but whoever designed the Response team, designed it in a way that could work the best with the resources had. Before long the van stops at the crime scene, known by the sound outside the van. "Alright gang. We're here," our boss says as Kya opens the van's back doors and the five of us pile out.

The amount of people in the Market was outstanding. In the few short minutes that the crime had been committed it seemed as if the whole of the Underground was packed into one block of the Market. Police forces were doing their best to keep the population at bay and had done a good job of keeping the crime scene free of any unauthorized personnel. "All of these people and not one witness?" I think to myself as I walk to the victim. I could tell the severity of his death by the smell. There was a strong thick scent of his blood in the air, a scent that couldn't just be produced by a simple stabbing, shooting, or death. The five of us surround the body. "Jesus Christ," Joey says not loudly but taken aback by the sight of (what's left of) this man. "What the hell did this?" he asks rhetorically. No one knew the answer yet. The body was covered in what we assumed was just the victims blood. His left leg was gone; it was seemingly torn off, though whether that was by force of hand or by jaw was unclear; his stomach was sliced open, and blood spread from there as his stomach was taken from him; and at closer inspection his heart and lungs were pulled from his body as well. "Landon," I call, slightly turning away from the body. "Do we know who this was?" I asked referring to the deceased, turning back to the body as Landon jogs over. "Not yet," he replies. "A few people here have said that he was a homeless man, but we don't have a his name yet."

"Okay thanks. See to it that you do. I want to know why this man was targeted whether it was for gang activates or simply for blood lust as well. If you find out anything more, let one of us know or our supervisors at the department office." Landon nods and returns to the other police. "Let's see if we can find out who this man is, or if anything saw what happened to him," I say to the group. "He might know something," Adrian says. We follow his gaze and see Tristan Astereus standing not far from the police lines. He was the Head of House that Adrian was affiliated with and was, obviously, a very important man. "Curious that he's here. This is obviously big enough that a Head of House would show up to witness with his own eyes." There was a man behind him that look familiar to me, but I don't think I knew him personally. Not pondering on it for too long, however, I agree with Adrian.
"I'll see what I can find out. If you need me, let me know," I tell the other members and they nod. We all have direct contact with one another through our helmets—a walkie-talkie installed directly inside the armour and the range was powerful to spread miles. I step out past the police line and walk towards him, forcing my way through people. "He doesn't look suspicious, but he might he might have information," I think to myself. "Mr. Astereus," I call out as I walk towards him only a few feet away. "My name is Mason from the UPD, Response Unit. Would you mind if I had a word?"