Ken grit his teeth and swallowed down a nervous lump that was caught in his throat. What was he doing in a sleazy place like this?
Just outside of the Tokyo limits and in Kanagawa, the young Orpheus agent had been sent to investigate a minor trouble. Nothing big or terrifyingly difficult, but so far the day had been one lead to another that finally drove him to the bar he now stood outside.
The name on the sign read, in bold neon colors, “Ayane’s Palace” and hung off the wall like a drunk person had put it there tilted. Now and again the sign would flicker in a desperate attempt to keep alive.
Looking back down the street to his left and right, the fourteen year old wondered how this was going to work. Sucking in a deep breath of the frost-chilled air, Ken started down the steps of Ayane’s Palace with a deep sense of dread in his gut.
When he reached the bottom and opened the door, he was surprised to find out that there wasn’t a bodyguard or something checking for I.D.
Brown eyes began to search over the small, dim-lit, room. Several tables had been put out with stools haphazard, and only a few number of people sat those. Few talked, but mostly they wallowed in their pains and stared into their drinks for answers. Meanwhile, more private booths had been pushed up against the wall at the back and to his right. One or two were occupied, and one by a being Ken instantly could feel the spark of power in.
He noted the individual and stepped in. All five feet of awkward height and uncomfortably aware he didn’t belong.
[287]
Ken
Ken's at 15k rei
Sanctuary
Ken, unbeknownst to him, has spiritual energy. There is no physical manifestation of it, as there typically is with other’s like him, but its effects a felt. Those around him within a 15 m diameter feel some of the effects, spiritual or not, as he gives off a calm and encouraging aura.
Ability:Chameleon Effect - 0% Resonance
At all times Ken generates 50% of his reiatsu into an area around him of 15 m diameter. This field protects Ken from the spiritually inclined. Spirit beings glance over him as if he weren’t there, and only realize him if he directly interacts with them. Attempts to divine him result in failure. This ability generates no Resonance.
Varg Narem stared for a moment at the sign above the bar. It seemed like the kind of place he would normally enjoy, a downright dive of a bar that did not draw too much attention to itself. In places like Ayane's Palace, drunken slobs had a tendency towards entertaining themselves, especially if someone spilt another's drink. Another thing Varg enjoyed about those places, the atmosphere and the characters.
Pushing the doors aside, the muscular advent inhaled deeply and absorbed his surroundings. The grimy stools, the private booths to the side, the man behind the bar who wished he could have been anywhere else, but most curious of all, there was at least one, maybe even two people in there with a thanatoresonance. As if he had not even noticed at all, Varg meandered carelessly towards the bar attracting a few wary looks - for once he wished he was less conspicuous, with his mohawk and tattoo-covered arms - and he leaned against the counter on both of his arms.
"I'll have a beer," he said in his mild Norwegian accent, "Whatever's coming."
Varg's brown eyes darted around the area, subtly searching for the other gifted individual. What was their affiliation and what were they doing there? Taking a sip of his beer, he stayed at the bar and pretended the green bottle in his hand was the only thing he was interested in.
With a sudden burst loud enough to draw a number of eyes to it, the restroom door down the hall running away from bar was thrown out. Swaying out only partially, the heavy door slowly began to close itself before an even more violent shove threw it into the wall. The bartender drew a furrowed glare on the man sauntering out into the bar, his look slowly turning quizzical as the dark-skinned individual seemed to mutter something to the door itself.
Tall and lean, the man was dressed for the weather; clothed in layers, the man wore a buttoned shirt, thin cotton sweater, and a peacoat over top. A scarf of several warm colors was wrapped around his neck, and a beanie molded his bulbous hairdo, leaving his ears covered as it bowed down and out. Square, flat-top glasses covered his eyes, though with what the rest of his expression showed, any onlooker could tell his eyes were glossed over in his inebriation.
Taking in a deep breath of exhaustion, the man strolled casually back across the counter, ignorant of the eyes trailing him. Returning to his stool in front of the television behind the counter, which just happened to be beside the inherently-obtrusive human, the Quincy sat down and picked up the short glass of dark alcohol waiting for him.
Sipping from the last thumb, his dark brown eyes turned back to the tube. Unlike either of the spiritually-aware beings in his midst, Rudo was oblivious to all else other than the Real Madrid-Manchester United matchup.
The bartender's fingers, chapped and thick like cured sausages, stopped wiping down the steady line of newly-rinsed cups that made his way toward him. His wide belly pushed up against the counter as excess fat rolled onto the wooden top, and he threw the drying towel over his shoulder. The stench of sweat and the residential odors of the bar lingered on his clothes and the hair of his chest.
As the man clangored through the restroom doorway, for a moment, the bartender's yellow-gray eyes shifted on the dark-skinned businessman then trailed over to the boy that had recently entered.
He turned to a weasel-looking man across from him and attempted to lean over, but his pot belly restricted the forward movement. When his compatriot noted his difficulty, he pushed himself forward and tilted his ear toward the fatter man. "The kid. Did you see him? He's from the booklet."
"You sure it's him?" the thinner man with the long face and sinister lips asked. His brown eyes followed the bartender's gaze to catch the boy. "What's a kid doing in a bar anyway?"
"It doesn't matter. But I know it's him; he's a Cambion, a demon-human, so he's got no reason to be afraid of places like this. Just call it in." The bartender drew back and directed the man to the hanging telephone to his left. "We'll get paid double since Braun's in here too."
Wordlessly, the weasel man nodded in agreement and made his way toward the phone.
Meanwhile, the bartender walked over to Braun and let him finish his last sip of rum. When he was done, he reached over to take the glass away from him. "That's enough for you, big guy. You won't be needing any more of that."
Expectedly, the only act powerful enough to draw the man’s attention away from the game just happened to be the fact that his glass had been taken from him. His brow furrowed, disappearing behind the broad lenses of his dark shades, and both hands rose up in confusion.
“Ay yo...!” His typically reserved tone completely forgotten, his words came loud and heedlessly. “The fuck, homie, you ain’t my mom!”
Picking up the ashtray sitting next to him, smoldering ashes still subsiding within, Rudo tossed it just over the corpulent bartender’s shoulder. It shattered loudly against the wall behind the counter. There was a shared gasp of surprise from the denizens within, though, the brash New Jerseyan didn’t seem to care, almost begging for a fight rather than another glass of booze.
“Rum n’ coke, fat ass muhfucka!” Slapping the counter hard twice, he demanded, “Let’s go!”
He had to sidestep, and quick, as someone else came in on his heels.
They looked like a foreigner. Pale skin riddled with tattoos and an outlandish mohawk. He would have said something about politeness and manners, but being in a strange bar with rowdy characters who were drunk and probably not in their right mind.... Sidestepping and keeping quiet seemed to be a good idea.
He watched silently, nervous, as another foreigner bashed his way out of the bathroom and back to the counter; the bartender sharing a word with another person, a quick glance his way.
Immediately, Ken began to get a bad feeling, but just as quick silenced it. So he was a kid. So what? As long as he didn’t order any alcohol he was here on official duties.
Back straight, fear rumbling in his gut, Ken walked over to the bar and was careful to try keeping attention off himself until he reached one of the dirty stools.
“W-Water, please,” he muttered, just in time to have the - now he realized - empowered man curse. “Y-You really shouldn’t. You seem like you’ve had enough....”
Varg grasped his beer tight and shot a glare as the enraged drunk knocked him during his outrage. The Norwegian continued to stare as the scene unfolded around him, though at first he didn't take notice of anything except for the other man. When he realised just a kid stepped in to try and quell things, the soft voice of a young one that shouldn't have been there. That was curious in itself, if he did not notice the bartender's deepening glare. Something strange was at work in that place and if it wasn't bad enough that he didn't know what, almost everybody in that joint seemed to have the thanato signature of an advent human, like him.
"Watch what you're doing," he grunted in that mild slur, part accent part inebriation, to the drunken Rudo. Whatever the kid's signicance was, he was right - that man had a lot of alcohol in his system and he was starting to get feisty.
"Y'know, maybe the kid's right," he said to him quietly, eyeing the bartender and then back to him. "Maybe you've had one too much."
With that, Varg went back to his business sipping his beer, but never let his eyes wander from the others in the area. There were too many triggers ready to let a barfight explode and with the individuals in there, it was hard to tell whether the building would still be standing should such a situation escalate.
Looking back and forth to the bartender and the massive Norwegian, the dark-skinned man’s expression quickly warped, his demeanor increasingly-defensive. Stepping back from Varg, Rudo squared his shoulders with the Advent, hands still at his side though it was clear that he wasn’t relenting at all.
“Maybe the both of y’all should stay the fuck out my business...”
His tone was a hushed growl, his attitude clearly communicating just how close he was to exploding. However sloppy and off-kilter he seemed the instant before, the Quincy was stilled and ready now, as if easily disregarding the alcohol flowing through his veins. He motioned with his head at the bartender and, even with his glasses shielding his eyes, it was clear they were still trained on the Advent.
“And maybe you should hurry up and get my muthafuckin' drink before I set shit off in here...”
Suddenly, his head wiped toward Ken, as if he had only then just heard the boy speak. Giving him a quizzical look, Rudo waved a dismissive hand at him and squared with Varg again, not bothering with the out-of-place child.
Ken sighed heavily at being dismissed. He could already see how this was supposed to go. If he didn’t step up and act like an Orpheus agent then it was likely to spiral into a bar brawl.
Slipping off the stool, the boy walked up next to Rudo.
He’d be fine. Danny had taught him how to use his powers, and he was confident that he’d been trained well.
Reaching up and seizing Rudo’s arm, the fourteen year old summoned forth all of his inner strength and violently shoved the dark-skinned foreigner across the room and towards the door.
“Sir,” he said politely, “I really t-think it’s time you leave.”
[587]
Lil says we've got a couple turns without her yet, so go ahead and let's enjoy this
Internalize used to give Rudo a rather unsuspecting shove. Not hurled through the room, mind you.
Launched off of and back onto his heels, the world spun in his already-impaired line of sight. Tumbling to the floor, the man fumbled obscenities as he very slowly recovered, needing time to simply find his bearings before he could find Ken. Giving the child a stunned look, Rudo drew a furrowed stare at that abnormal strength.
Clenching his teeth, he made to his feet, dusting off his jacket. When he raised his head, there was a sort of calm, casual look to him. And, for a moment, it seemed the man had seen the error in his ways, had recognized just how hard he had fallen off the wagon.
“Aight...”
Then, he reached behind his back, pulling out the gunmetal pistol there, ripping the slide back. Lowering it calmly to his side, Rudo tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on the boy through his sunglasses. Not saying a word for a moment, as if considering who to shoot first, the Quincy shifted his head back to the bartender.
"I already told you, big guy. That was your last drink," the overweight bartender replied as he stared hard back at the dark-skinned man in front of him. "You're already causing enough ruckus. You can either sit and sober up or go outside. I won't have you puking on my walls again."
He turned away from Rudo to pay attention to another customer. Then as he began filling a draught, his weasel-looking friend caught his gaze and gave him a brief nod.
After that, the bartender looked at Ken. "Hey kid. Yeah, you, with the water," he called as he pulled the hand towel off his shoulder and waved it at the boy. "You're probably the most sober guy here. You've got it right, you know, trying to keep the drunk out of trouble. If you can manage to get him out of here, I'll tell Ayane to take you to the back room. It'll be a good experience for a strapping young man like yourself," the fat man smiled with a thick, oily odor sliding off his breath. "What do you say?"
-----------
"Only a matter of time before a Cambion came by where Braun drinks himself until he pisses his pants. Ken Kugimaya, though," he scoffed, rolling his green eyes. "He's just a kid. Orpheus must be getting desperate if they can't even find a freakin' adult to scout the dives." The voice had a distinctly smooth Irish quality to it as the speaker snarked from the shadowed balcony of a nearby building that overlooked the bar. It emerged from the mouth of a figure in a navy hooded sweater and black dress pants. Beneath the hood were tufts of red-orange hair that fell straight over his forehead and across his eyes. Freckled cheeks had turned pink in the cold winter air, and a gloved hand brought a cigarette to his lips.
The man beside him gave nothing but a short grunt as he folded both of his arms across his chest. His right hand was covered in a dark red glove with a skinless mask etched in the bottom right-hand corner. "..."
"Based on the phone call, Ken and Rudo are already talking to each other. That makes our job easier when they come out. Soon, I hope. It's cold as fuck," he muttered as he dropped the cigarette into a pile of snow and rubbed his hands together.
The stern brown-haired man tightened. He felt the younger agent's growing anxiety and answered in a low baritone, "Just be patient, Bennett. As much as I'm sure you'd like to drag them both out, have faith in entropy."
Between the obvious gun and the bartender’s damnable encouragement, Ken wasn’t too sure what he should do. What was even in the back room? Experience? Was he trying to bribe Ken with a video game? That was pretty tempting. He almost lost himself to the wonders of the fictional world that might be there, of the story and the hero’s rise and fall.
But he seized his mind before it became lost in thought. Reality was a bit too pressing at the moment. Instead he forced all his attention on the man with the gun.
Slowly he raised his hands in front of Rudo, trying to placate the drunkard without setting him off. “E-Easy, friend. No reason for you to wave that around,” Ken stated. His voice kind and slow, more for his own benefit than Rudo’s. If he had tried to talk fast, the likelihood he’d stumble over his words was all too familiar.
Regardless of promises of video games or danger to himself, Ken knew he had to get the other man out of the bar. Out into the streets where he couldn’t harm a bunch of innocent people so easily.
Sweeping his eyes across the room, though, he thought it a bit odd how no one was afraid of the gun. Maybe it was a commonality.
“If you put the gun away, I can get you a cab. I don’t think it’s such a good idea to start any trouble here.”
[831]
I almost feel like daring you to shoot Ken at this point. Poor lad.
As the tension in the bar escalated and the drunken menace pulled out a gun, swiveling it in what seemed like a careless manner - Varg doubted that the inebriated man as careless as he was letting on - the Norwegian's veins became visible and darkened in colour. If the light was better in that wretched place, some might have been able to spot his silver veins, but it was just a precaution in case he had to defend himself. The atmosphere was getting too hot and the situation needed some water before the embers turned into a forest fire. The bulky ex-agent walked slowly towards Rudo and tried to smooth the creases out of his own face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sure we don't mean to be patronising," Varg slurred, passing a benevolent gaze to the apparent kid present, "but none of us are enemies here. We can help you outside and I'll even pay for the taxi fares."
Thanks to his chiseled face and crooked nose, the smile that appeared on his face was less soothing than he had intended. Regardless of his expression, he held an open stance, one that he hoped did not seem threatening.
Frowning and shaking his head, Rudo looked to the bar, his anger waning in the face of all the pietists denying him his rum and Coca-Cola. Wiggling the gun lightly in hand, he eventually turned away from them, slowly ambling toward the door in defeat. All of this wasn’t worth a drink.
Not the gun, mind you; having to listen to the squares telling him to turn-down was what Rudo found unbearable.
“Man, whatever, I’m out.” Tucking the pistol behind his back, he pushed the front door open with his shoulder, looking back at both Varg and Allen. “Fuck a cab, I’m drivin’, homie. Ain’t neva comin’ back to this whack-ass joint...!”
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, the Quincy left them behind.
Yellow-gray eyes followed Rudo to the exit. Shaking his head, the bartender groaned. "Tch, fuckin' asshole. Every goddamn day."
"At least he didn't hurt anybody," the slim weasel shrugged as he climbed onto the now-vacant stool. "Could'a been worse. But don't you think someone should go after him? He brings in a lot o'money, doesn't he?"
"Yeah," the bartender replied as he used his forearm to wipe some grime off his upper brow. He turned back to Ken. "Hey kid, thanks for trying to talk some sense into him. You did a good job back there." He smirked as he began wiping down the countertop again. "Right now, you've got a free ten-minute session with Ayane. I'll double that if you just check on Rudo to make sure he takes a cab. I don't need any accidents in front of the shop. And I like his cash." He gave a wry, dirty laugh.
"You can even take your friend with you," the fat older man added, nodding his head at the mohawked foreigner that helped alleviate Rudo as well. "I'll even throw in a complimentary drink for both of you."
--------
"There's Braun." The hooded man said as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gray-green goggles. "I'll hold him up." He removed his hood, tucked back his moppy red hair, and pulled the eyepiece over his face. Once it was positioned, he pulled the hood back over his head and walked toward the fire escape. Quietly, Bennett hopped over the rusted ledge and slid down the ladder.
Keeping his head down, the Irish man walked toward a black Mercedes Benz in the center of the parking lot. Before Rudo noticed him, he leaned back against the passenger side and propped his foot against the door. Calling out to the drunk that slurred messily and ambled in a crooked line, the man beckoned to him, "Looks like you're not faring well, living like a powerless human with your company in total shambles, huh Braun? Can't say I blame ya, actually. I'd probably go on a killing spree until I found the people who ruined my life."
Barely managing any coherent thoughts now, the dark-skinned man looked on the hooded figure with visible ire, reacting to the stranger’s foot on his car door firstly. His words were registered. His inherent pride was only compounded by the fluids running through his veins, distorting rational sense.
Almost abruptly, his dizzied pace toward the car stopped, planting one foot forward and pivoting into a sort of strafing motion. All in one motion, Rudo reached into his pocket and pulled out the gun again, holding it just beside his hip. The polished barrel glinted under the street light as he continued to sidestep across the front of the car.
“‘The fuck off mah car,” he said, stopping around the other side of the vehicle. “And wha... what’re you talkin’ about? Huh!?” Though his expression was relatively solid, his body exuded restrained disarray. “Who-Who’re you?”
His head shifted side-to-side, scanning the parking lot as best he could without letting the interloper before him out of his line of sight. In spite of his aggressive front, tension rolled through him, made his skin tingle with hushed anxiety, only barely bringing him clarity of thought and motion.
Ken looked to the stranger with the mohawk and shrugged his shoulders.
“Wouldn’t mind a soda,” the kid replied, “and I’d appreciate the help.” One way or the other, Ken started heading after Rudo. As he pushed open the door, he called back to the bartender, “Sorry, sir, but game’s will have to wait.”
With that he rushed back up the steps, out into the dim-lit streets and frost-chilled air. The light from the bar’s sign cast neon colors across his back.
Oh. Ayane must be the woman who owns this place. Can’t imagine she likes video games, though. Wonder why that bartender was.... Something at the edges of his mind started connecting dots, but a strange wave of embarrassment hit Ken before he could fully form thoughts.
Rather, he turned his attention outwards once more. His brown eyes scanned the streets looking for Rudo. There wasn’t any sign of the other man, which set the boy into a panic. If he had missed the drunkard and he’d already gotten into his car, he was in danger.
Gritting his teeth, Ken forced himself to stop and think. He’d check the sides of the building - the right side first where there was a parking lot. Maybe Rudo had parked there rather than on the street.
Wasting no more time the Orpheus agent sprinted down the street and around the building.
[1061]
Friendly reminder
Since Ken is exiting a scenario where his chameleon effect was spoiled, here it is again.
Ability:Chameleon Effect - 0% Resonance
At all times Ken generates 50% of his reiatsu into an area around him of 15 m diameter. This field protects Ken from the spiritually inclined. Spirit beings glance over him as if he weren’t there, and only realize him if he directly interacts with them. Attempts to divine him result in failure. This ability generates no Resonance.
As the kid rushed out of the bar, Varg turned to the bartender and bowed his head quickly. Learning the respect of the Japanese was like learning to ride a bike, it took a while to learn but once it was known it stayed where it was.
"I appreciate the offer, but it seems I have to dash," he slurred and followed Ken's footsteps. It seemed he would be chasing strangers again, a rather nasty habit he had a tendency to get into far too often. He barely managed to catch up to the kid when he went off gallavanting once more.
"Hey wait!" he called but he just carried on running. Varg spat on the floor and took the time to glance around the bar's surroundings. No sign of the drunken one and even if he had a thanato signature, he'd still be inebriated. A shiver ran down the Norwegian's spine and he reassured himself that it was the chill in the air outside. Something feels off today, he thought to himself, and shrugged as he ran lightly in the same direction Ken went, the consistent tapping of his footsteps echoing around the street.
"Geez, man, you don't have to be so rough about it. Don't hafta cuss me out like that. Just ask nicely." The hooded man shrugged as he waved a hand and pushed off the black Mercedes. He kept his hands in his pockets and leaned forward, hiding his face from the former quincy.
"The name's Carlisle Bennett. I'm hoping to be a future friend of yours actually. Sorry my friend didn't call you again like she said she would. She..." He dragged, trying to think of an appropriate excuse. "Well, she got a little side-tracked. To make up for it, I thought I should introduce myself to you personally."
He looked up, finally revealing the headpiece, a few strands of orange-red hair, and his lower face to the drunken man. He walked forward and extended his hand for Rudo to shake.
In the pause, where Carlisle referred to her, the sloppy ignominy in the Quincy steadily began to melt away, the epiphany slowing writing itself into his expression. Slowly, his occupied hand fell to his waist, his shoulders relaxing and the dark eyes behind his dark shades narrowing to a glower.
“Fuck the call,” Rudo retorted, ignoring the hand offered to him. “If y’all knew they were comin’, why the fuck y’all wasn’t there?” Drawing his lips to a line, looking down on the man’s hand and back up to the redhead, the Quincy seethed, “And you got the nerve to---”
He trailed off there, stepping back and shaking his head, laughing low and sarcastically.
“What, you was scared?” He accused. “Y’all wanna tell me he’s comin’, but y’all don’t wanna step in to help? And you wanna be my friend?”
