Lost and Found
May 31, 2022 22:19:10 GMT -8
Post by Sora-No on May 31, 2022 22:19:10 GMT -8
Avalon had found itself in a calm lull of a night. The day had come and gone, and silence had now run through the city. The occasional cricket cooed in the night, with a soft breeze giving a cool contrast to the warm temperatures. Minus a few late-night owls, the bustling city had once again found itself silent as the stars dotted across the cloudless sky. The moon casting the only night as it shown on a small, abandoned shack.
Despite the outside and surrounding area of the city, this shack was quite filled. An invisible line in the sand found in the center, two almost completely different types of people on each side, both sides finding a mutual ground of a tense posture and uneasy gaze. Closer to the doors was a group of two, held in nice suits and dark gloves. The one closest to the left side of the door found themselves as almost a black sheep, completely calm and comparable to a stoic stance. She was closer to the shorter side, with dark tan skin and silver hair tied tightly into a ponytail. Cold blue eyes seeming to drop the temperature of her stare a few hundred degrees.
On the other side, they found a group of ten. Despite their larger size, they seemed almost trapped inside the shack, like beasts cornered. They were mismatched types of clothing, the only consistent pieces being a thick red jacket, symbols and various lettering across the sleeves and backsides. In the center of this group was a man lacking the signature jacket, instead finding the text tattooed across his forearms. A thick brown beard and slicked back hair of a matching color, light skin and fiery amber eyes staring impatiently at the woman.
"Where the hell is he?" He would boast, his voice harsh and filled with rasp. She would simply scoff, waving her hand dismissingly. She seemed not to want to waste the time talking to him, which filled him with rage as he stood up, his voice raising. "Who the shit do you think y'all are, eh? Do ya not know who we are?"
"I'm well aware, General."
The voice would come like a phantom on the wind as the doors slowly creaked open. The movement, the nerves and shakes, all ceased to exist as they seemed to all freeze. Minus the woman, who would simply move to the individual's right as he continued walking forward into the center of the room.
Ricky was of an average build and height. A slick Burberry suit of a blue hue, with a white buttoned shirt underneath. Black gloves with bones lining the outside and crested upon his knuckles. A mask going down past his neck and covering his lower face. Bright white irises glowing past the black husks of a skull across the front of his face. His voice was eerie, an odd mechanical blur covering the true nuances of his speech.
Ricky would approach the other man, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. "So, let's talk Blackmarsh."
"First, let's talk payment. You weren't lyin' when ya said you'd pay for the info, correct?" Ricky's blank stare would pierce through the man as he simply sighed, "I don't lie, General. Now talk."
The conversation would last for only five minutes. Talking about what was being brought up would be a moot point. The main takeaway was this: There was no taking over and removing each gang and organization in Blackmarsh. Each was intertwined in some kind, linked by a single chain in some places, or like roots through the entire town in other areas. If they're not eating each other alive until the roots all have one owner, they're paid off to stay friendly with each other. While Ricky's masked face betrayed no emotion, his female counterpart seemed incredibly frustrated.
"So, what, everyone's in everyone else's pockets or have deals? So it's one big gang masquerading as a million small ones?" Her voice was clear and heavy, its weight matching the same temperature as her eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes, lass."
"Including yours?" The General seemed to flinch, but would eventually nod. "Aye, I've got agreements to not touch other territories and get my pay to look the other way."
"I see." Ricky would look at the other individual, another female. She had a dark tan, and a warm teal eye color. Brown hair in thick curls all the way to the waist. "Give the men their due diligence, EP."
The group would smile, looking among themselves. Perrin would take a few steps forward, her fingers curling as bright blue flames flicked across her well-kept nails. The men would then jump back. They readied weapons and spells
"You liar! You said yous were gonna pay us!"
"No, the 'lass' you swore at said that. I wouldn't have agreed to that, I don't lie."
He would then turn, his face betraying no emotions as he simply said. "CC, let's go."
________________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Ricky would be sitting in a small office. The area was incredibly well-kept, and didn't have any details that truly stood out. The mask laid neatly on the desk, and he wore the same type of suit as previous, colored in a silky silver, a black shirt this time. No tie, simply buttoned up. CC walked up, putting her hands lightly behind her back as she stared down Ricky.
"Remind me, why do I keep finding myself doing these meetings late in the night when we have meetings throughout the mornings?"
"Don't ask me, sir. You write the appointments, not my fault you're an idiot when the mask is off." Ricky would laugh, a clear crisp tone, clear of the filters that the mask had given him previously. CC would relax, a smug grin painted across her feature. Counteracting the coldness of her gaze into a neutral temperature overall. Lukewarm at best.
Calipher Cole. An analyst and with skillsets in psychology and tactics. Ricky had met her back in his time in his old life. An intense individual, she brought him to his senses more often than anyone else. She doesn't have any particular skills in fighting or magic, but makes up for that with absolute intellect and understanding of the human mind. And, most important to Ricky, is one of his closest friends.
"EP's gonna be gone for her trip. She says thanks, by the way."
Ricky would nod, rapping his fingers on the desk. "Well, I'm not gonna lie and say it's gonna be difficult to run things without her for the time being. Didn't even give a goodbye to me, she rushed out the door so quickly. Fucker." A sly smirk crosses his face.
Elena Perrin. A member of a recluse family of fire mages, she ran away from home and attempted to make a name for herself. A trained fighter and the only mage Ricky could trust turning his back to. She joined up once he started his business four years ago, agreeing to do what needed to be done and has had his back ever since. She just received news that her baby brother skipped the family villa, so of course he'd give her all the time she needed.
"Alright, run it one more time for me. What's the situation we're dealing with?"
"Well..." She would begin to pace, counting with her hands in an almost mocking manner, "You dwindled our numbers down by seventy two percent so you could have a team you could trust, then wanted to set to work on the town of Blackmarsh, a town we have no intel on whatsoever except it's a numbers game when it comes to men. Need I remind you that you dwindled ours down by seventy two percent?"
"You don't. Continue."
"So, we're outnumbered three thousand to one -that's only slightly exaggerated, mind you- and the only intel we have is that they're all in each other's bedsheets at the end of the day. So, we're absolutely screwed." Ricky would sigh, with CC giving a coy smile as she spun on her heel, opening her arms, "Luckily for you, the great Hero Ms. Cole has bestowed a gift on to you, if you would just open your desk drawer~"
"Gods, I hate you." He would laugh, playing along as he opened the drawer and pulled out the envelope. The Lost Boys. His face would sour as he read through the whole thing. A gang of orphans, tight knit and keeping to getting out of Blackmarsh. Leader, Io. Deceased. Everyone else skipped ship and has been out of the game for years. A list of names, all lined up with physical descriptions, photos. Places of residence and occupations. All of them crossed out except for two.
"So, you're telling me that the great Ms. Cole has given me basically only two people to talk to, that have been out of the game for years, and were kids being brought into the life that you want me to attempt to bring back in?" He would then scoff, "And they're mages, lovely."
"I gave you two people who spent their entire childhood in that town and probably know it in their sleep, who have grown and understand the difference between what was good and bad growing up. And hey, at least you guys have common ground?" Ricky would wince, cocking his head ever so slightly. CC would huff, "Look, tell them what your plans are, find a way to get a deal. Try to minimize bringing them back in, and use them more like a liaison than another lackey to attempt to trust."
Ricky would give a sigh of defeat, causing CC to beam ear to ear with an almost 'I told you so' grin. "Okay. Set it up, I'll find a good suit for it."
"Yes sir."
"Don't call me sir. Fucken' puppet master, I swear..."
"Hey, we're a team, so of course if I can't pull your strings how can I pull all the other ones we need?"
Despite the outside and surrounding area of the city, this shack was quite filled. An invisible line in the sand found in the center, two almost completely different types of people on each side, both sides finding a mutual ground of a tense posture and uneasy gaze. Closer to the doors was a group of two, held in nice suits and dark gloves. The one closest to the left side of the door found themselves as almost a black sheep, completely calm and comparable to a stoic stance. She was closer to the shorter side, with dark tan skin and silver hair tied tightly into a ponytail. Cold blue eyes seeming to drop the temperature of her stare a few hundred degrees.
On the other side, they found a group of ten. Despite their larger size, they seemed almost trapped inside the shack, like beasts cornered. They were mismatched types of clothing, the only consistent pieces being a thick red jacket, symbols and various lettering across the sleeves and backsides. In the center of this group was a man lacking the signature jacket, instead finding the text tattooed across his forearms. A thick brown beard and slicked back hair of a matching color, light skin and fiery amber eyes staring impatiently at the woman.
"Where the hell is he?" He would boast, his voice harsh and filled with rasp. She would simply scoff, waving her hand dismissingly. She seemed not to want to waste the time talking to him, which filled him with rage as he stood up, his voice raising. "Who the shit do you think y'all are, eh? Do ya not know who we are?"
"I'm well aware, General."
The voice would come like a phantom on the wind as the doors slowly creaked open. The movement, the nerves and shakes, all ceased to exist as they seemed to all freeze. Minus the woman, who would simply move to the individual's right as he continued walking forward into the center of the room.
Ricky was of an average build and height. A slick Burberry suit of a blue hue, with a white buttoned shirt underneath. Black gloves with bones lining the outside and crested upon his knuckles. A mask going down past his neck and covering his lower face. Bright white irises glowing past the black husks of a skull across the front of his face. His voice was eerie, an odd mechanical blur covering the true nuances of his speech.
Ricky would approach the other man, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. "So, let's talk Blackmarsh."
"First, let's talk payment. You weren't lyin' when ya said you'd pay for the info, correct?" Ricky's blank stare would pierce through the man as he simply sighed, "I don't lie, General. Now talk."
The conversation would last for only five minutes. Talking about what was being brought up would be a moot point. The main takeaway was this: There was no taking over and removing each gang and organization in Blackmarsh. Each was intertwined in some kind, linked by a single chain in some places, or like roots through the entire town in other areas. If they're not eating each other alive until the roots all have one owner, they're paid off to stay friendly with each other. While Ricky's masked face betrayed no emotion, his female counterpart seemed incredibly frustrated.
"So, what, everyone's in everyone else's pockets or have deals? So it's one big gang masquerading as a million small ones?" Her voice was clear and heavy, its weight matching the same temperature as her eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes, lass."
"Including yours?" The General seemed to flinch, but would eventually nod. "Aye, I've got agreements to not touch other territories and get my pay to look the other way."
"I see." Ricky would look at the other individual, another female. She had a dark tan, and a warm teal eye color. Brown hair in thick curls all the way to the waist. "Give the men their due diligence, EP."
The group would smile, looking among themselves. Perrin would take a few steps forward, her fingers curling as bright blue flames flicked across her well-kept nails. The men would then jump back. They readied weapons and spells
"You liar! You said yous were gonna pay us!"
"No, the 'lass' you swore at said that. I wouldn't have agreed to that, I don't lie."
He would then turn, his face betraying no emotions as he simply said. "CC, let's go."
________________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Ricky would be sitting in a small office. The area was incredibly well-kept, and didn't have any details that truly stood out. The mask laid neatly on the desk, and he wore the same type of suit as previous, colored in a silky silver, a black shirt this time. No tie, simply buttoned up. CC walked up, putting her hands lightly behind her back as she stared down Ricky.
"Remind me, why do I keep finding myself doing these meetings late in the night when we have meetings throughout the mornings?"
"Don't ask me, sir. You write the appointments, not my fault you're an idiot when the mask is off." Ricky would laugh, a clear crisp tone, clear of the filters that the mask had given him previously. CC would relax, a smug grin painted across her feature. Counteracting the coldness of her gaze into a neutral temperature overall. Lukewarm at best.
Calipher Cole. An analyst and with skillsets in psychology and tactics. Ricky had met her back in his time in his old life. An intense individual, she brought him to his senses more often than anyone else. She doesn't have any particular skills in fighting or magic, but makes up for that with absolute intellect and understanding of the human mind. And, most important to Ricky, is one of his closest friends.
"EP's gonna be gone for her trip. She says thanks, by the way."
Ricky would nod, rapping his fingers on the desk. "Well, I'm not gonna lie and say it's gonna be difficult to run things without her for the time being. Didn't even give a goodbye to me, she rushed out the door so quickly. Fucker." A sly smirk crosses his face.
Elena Perrin. A member of a recluse family of fire mages, she ran away from home and attempted to make a name for herself. A trained fighter and the only mage Ricky could trust turning his back to. She joined up once he started his business four years ago, agreeing to do what needed to be done and has had his back ever since. She just received news that her baby brother skipped the family villa, so of course he'd give her all the time she needed.
"Alright, run it one more time for me. What's the situation we're dealing with?"
"Well..." She would begin to pace, counting with her hands in an almost mocking manner, "You dwindled our numbers down by seventy two percent so you could have a team you could trust, then wanted to set to work on the town of Blackmarsh, a town we have no intel on whatsoever except it's a numbers game when it comes to men. Need I remind you that you dwindled ours down by seventy two percent?"
"You don't. Continue."
"So, we're outnumbered three thousand to one -that's only slightly exaggerated, mind you- and the only intel we have is that they're all in each other's bedsheets at the end of the day. So, we're absolutely screwed." Ricky would sigh, with CC giving a coy smile as she spun on her heel, opening her arms, "Luckily for you, the great Hero Ms. Cole has bestowed a gift on to you, if you would just open your desk drawer~"
"Gods, I hate you." He would laugh, playing along as he opened the drawer and pulled out the envelope. The Lost Boys. His face would sour as he read through the whole thing. A gang of orphans, tight knit and keeping to getting out of Blackmarsh. Leader, Io. Deceased. Everyone else skipped ship and has been out of the game for years. A list of names, all lined up with physical descriptions, photos. Places of residence and occupations. All of them crossed out except for two.
"So, you're telling me that the great Ms. Cole has given me basically only two people to talk to, that have been out of the game for years, and were kids being brought into the life that you want me to attempt to bring back in?" He would then scoff, "And they're mages, lovely."
"I gave you two people who spent their entire childhood in that town and probably know it in their sleep, who have grown and understand the difference between what was good and bad growing up. And hey, at least you guys have common ground?" Ricky would wince, cocking his head ever so slightly. CC would huff, "Look, tell them what your plans are, find a way to get a deal. Try to minimize bringing them back in, and use them more like a liaison than another lackey to attempt to trust."
Ricky would give a sigh of defeat, causing CC to beam ear to ear with an almost 'I told you so' grin. "Okay. Set it up, I'll find a good suit for it."
"Yes sir."
"Don't call me sir. Fucken' puppet master, I swear..."
"Hey, we're a team, so of course if I can't pull your strings how can I pull all the other ones we need?"
