Corruption.

[toyohisa]

"Mm."

Her reaction and knowledge of weaponry had him amused; it put him at ease to know he wasn't dealing with a newbie, or some girl who wanted to be rebellious by handling weaponry she had no idea on how to handle. The makeshift beat increased in tempo, frequently slowing down to accentuate more complex beats.

"I know all about what the 90-TWO model was designed for; it increased the magazine capacity, fixed the poor ergonomical designs, and hell, even added customizable grips for people who are into that kinda thing. And if you're as good as I think you are, telling you my model has a manual safety oughta answer your design question. It takes .40 S&W, by the way."

Leaning further back in his seat, he almost had to wonder if it'd tip back and throw him on his ass, but he favored the conversation more than concern over the chair. Smiling to the woman, he shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands to his face in an awkward gesture.

"What about the G2 variant instead? Both the F1 and G1 were designed to use the French magazine you were speaking of, but the G2 was made to fit with NATO standards. To my knowledge, it's the only version of the FAMAS rifle that shares caliber with the M16. I know all about the bullpup configuration, but it's nice to see if your dealer knows the rudimentary shit, y'know?"

His favorite video games and manga had to do with guns and swords; there was nothing better than watching something get cut in half, or shot in the face -- it was the way shit happened for real. Stretching out, his musculature loosened, ridding himself of the tension.

"So, now that I know you're not a newbie, I'd like to ask for a few changes. I'd still like a FAMAS G2 variant rifle, forget the Beretta 92, and get me one of those slick lookin' katanas. If I'm goin' to kill shit for you guys, I wanna be able to enjoy myself."

 

[Dean Winchester]

((I completely lost the whole point of posting, yet I will continue until I find a reason of it))

As Salazar entered the Ministry, he could witnessed the repairs made on the building's structure, as well as the security system and the defense system. Intrigued, Salazar felt compelled to lead his path towards the elevator, and soon to Seraphim's office. Having accessed the Ministry's upper levels due to his ID Access Card, Salazar found quite strange for some rebels to break through the security without any internal help at all, or perhaps they did got some help, but from whom? After several minutes, the door to the elevator was opened, revealing a large white corridor with a few glass walls, marble slates decorating the floor and a few paintings hanging on the concrete white walls.

With pride and elegance, Mathias Salazar walked arrogantly through the corridor looking down upon agents and simple employees alike, for him they were all the same, simple pawns of Big Brother himself. Still, no signs of life, or any proof at all were given to sustain that Big Brother even exists, something that has been troubling Salazar for quite some time. After a few minutes, Salazar stumbled across a small hall which had several small black tables, black armchairs and a large window with a view that allowed to see all of the city from this pyramidal structure. Having not found Seraphim's Office by himself, Salazar decided to seek for an answer from one of the agents.

"You, can you lead me to Seraphim's Office? I have much to discuss with him and the other agents."

 

[Leki]

(Please excuse my cluelessness, until I settle into the RP guys. :3)

A moderately young woman was walkinng through the streets, keeping her head down, blue eyes downcast. It wouldn't do to draw herself into the spotlight, where attention would be called to her actions. Not with THEM watching. She swallowed slightly, shooving her hands deep into her cargo pockets to keep from holding them together nervously, as she was prone to do.

Everywhere, people were rushing to their homes as fast as they could, eyes downcast, not so much as a cheerful 'Hello!' or such, not even a wave. They just wanted to get somewhere relatively safe. Or at least, get the feeling of being safe, even if they weren't. She put her hand up, as if to brush away a stray strand of hair, but instead, took a swipe at her watering eyes. She knew she wasn't safe, nor anyone else, not now. But it wouldn't do to cry in the middle of the street. And so, she continued down the street.

She continued walking, but not home, as she had intended. She just walked, and started watching people. Now that her eyes were opened, she wanted to see. Everything.

And so enters Mizu La-La, the civilian.

 

[Tzakeran]

Smiling Chimitsu leaned forward to place her elbows on the table, her hands folded atop one another, supporting her chin, "Well, it seems that your not uninformed yourself when I comes to weapons. Where did you learn about the G1 and G2 variants? No, matter. It'll be a simple deal to get you your FAMAS. If your into French weapons I could as throw in a Specter helmet. Complete with night vision, and radio link up. Well, do you need any ammo for your F varient 90-TWO? I've got a few boxes handy if you do. As for your katana...." Smiling, through slitted eyes, she spoke in a mysterious voice, "I've got just the thing."

Leaning back and accepting the dessert that the head chef himself brought to her, she exlaimed, "Oh! Its looks delicious! I can't wait to try it! One moment please Mamoru Sweety."

Picking up the spoon given to her by the cook, she sliced deep into the tantilizing delicacy before her. Bringing it before her full lips, they parted as she inhaled the delicous scent. In went the dessert, between her excpectent lips. They closed around her spoon, as her eyes closed to garner the full experiance of this delicacy. "Oooooooooh!" She moaned, as the sensation hit her fully. "This...this....this....IS AMAZING!!!!" Leaping out of her seat her tackled the head chef. Only his obviosly larger mass kept him from tumbling to the ground. "You absolutly must be the most amazing chef in the whole world! I love you!" Planting a large kiss upon the startled chef's face, she stepped away from him, "You really should serve this more often! Its amazing! You need to make this for Whity-chan right away!"

Turning back to her amazing desert, she again looked at momaru, "I'm sorry Mamoru Sweety! *smile* its just so wonderful I couldn't help myself! Where were we? Oh, yes, your katana. Well most of this stuff is pretty standard, and I can handle it easily, it'll cost but nothing overly pricy. The katana on the other hand...well one its a Katana. Those don't exactly grow on trees you know? Second its a very special katana, but I think you can handle its....tendencies. I'll find its exact price and get back to you. Does anyone else have anything they might want to aquire by chance? By the way, what are your opinions on the Ministry's 'Preacher'? Oh, still want that headband? I hear is was worn by a pretty famous covert specialist..."

(pic of Katana named "Angoku Dama" copyright Wen-M: http://wen-m.deviantart.com/art/YouTou-Angoku-Dama-55122994)

 

[Toxic Variations]

Black leather, a supple lamb skin, was once more pulled over pale hands. As soon as the gloves were in place, Raphael would shake out his tangled hair. In his mind, these momentary pleasures were forgiveable sins in the eyes of Big Brother. An easy, relaxed smile traveled across his mouth. He was never one to worry about the future or the present. Pure confidence in Big Brother, and in his kingdom, was engraved deeply in the enigma's heart. Skilled fingers would slowly button his jacket. Oh yes, his little assistant was probably shivering and shaking behind him. Weiss. Raphael didn't turn around to face him. A snap of his index finger against his thumb and he'd point to his right side, as if to say: Stand there.

" Good boy. "

Left wrist was lifted and intricate wristwatch, lined with diamonds, was glanced at.

" That lovely tongue of yours will come in handy, often. Be glad. I'm soo proud of you."

Raphael lowered his hand and seemed as if he were lost in thought. He really should go to the lobby and put that subordinate , Rover, in place. Now, was the time. He glanced over his shoulder and gave Weiss a smile, soo charming, soo alluring, and soo very malevolent. Raphael would turn away and leave him and once more descend to the lobby below. Rover was still laughing and it posed a rather comical scene to Raphael as he approached the young man.

" Rover, if I might have a word. Calm yourself? You're laughing rather loudly. Some here might come, to the horrible conclusion, you're insane. We wouldn't want that, would we? To lose you, like we did Agent Saint, would be such a loss. "

Oh yes, that would be tragic! If the man could've rolled over and laughed himself sick, he would have. Raphael's face was blank, expressionless as he continued to speak.

" I visit him often, you know. We have the most interesting conversations, that is, when he isn't droolling and pissing himself. Hah. Betrayal costs us soo much. Alas! When I first saw him, I knew him too be a Thought Criminal. I went so far as to send my personal attack squad to his home, murder the two girls, and then chop them up into little bits. I have pieces of them in my laboratory. Much like the fiendish Dr. Frankestein, of old, I am stitching together a little playmate for the good Saint. If he isn't mad now, he sure as hell will be when I send him his get well gift! "

"Now, listen closely, because I want to tell you what I plan on doing to you. Are you listening? Because, I have to say, it makes me excited. You and I will take a trip to the torture chambers below. The first thing I'll do is this: I'll use your chainsaw to relieve you of both of your arms and legs. As you scream like a bitch, I'll open your pants and cut your penis off , slowly, until we have ourselves a fine set of bloody chunks. Next, I'll feed it to you. No doubt you'll be shitting and pissing in pain and shock, by now, and lastly I'll scoop up your feces and shove, what I can, down your insolent throat. Hummm, does it make you excited as I? Know your place, ant. "

 

[toyohisa]

His facial features expressed his own satisfaction with the woman, a slow nod giving her slight acknowledgement. Leaning forward against the table, his lips curled into an amused smirk. These guys sure were something, but that confidence he had himself made sure to constantly remind the young man that they were still nothing compared to his legendary awesomeness.

"Mm, I've got plenty of ammo for my Type-F Variant. No thanks on the Spectre helmet; helmets always made everything so unbearably annoying and hot. As for the FAMAS G2, I have a comrade that likes to ramble on and on about weaponry and specifications for them; hell, everything down to the barrel length."

Snickering, he leaned his head back against the chair, exhaling before rolling his eyes. Tilting his head to the side, several audible and very painful sounding cracks echoed, prompting the mercenary to sigh.

"I think I can handle the katana, and I know I can pay for it. As for the ministry's 'preacher', I could care less about the guy. I'm going to kill him, his agents, his flunkies, employees, wives, dogs, and even his god damn shoe shiner. Hell, I don't get paid if we don't kill 'em all."

Another hour of inactivity -- it was slowly corroding his damn bones. Grouchily eating away at a cheeseburger, the transferred agent slowly began to contemplate on what kind of activity to fill his night with. It was a pain in the ass; they always had him busy with some form of activity back in Russia. Standing from his seat, he ate the rest of his food and walked past the quarreling couple; something about cutting off a penis and. . .

Ow.

The silver haired Russian quickly left for the remainder of the day.

 

[Reality.Fantasy]

When Raphael finally took the time to heed Rover’s insolent barking and howling and reversed direction, the latter soon found himself quieting up. He was not silencing himself on account of the exalted man’s reappearance, but more he wanted to hear every syllable of his rebuttal so long as it lingered in the air. Electricity followed the edges of the wind currents that sailed victoriously between the two men as a showdown long delayed seemed to be going underway. Gorgeous blue eyes met those of crimson as heated gazes met without shrinking back, and even the guards posted at the perimeter of the building found themselves taking careful steps back. They could have stayed and felt the true orgasmic pleasure of beholding the potentially epic battle, but pleasure did not come before the core values of a human being; maintaining and cherishing his or her own life. And now was not the time to be losing it.

Every feature of Rover’s face remained nearly as concrete as those of Raphael. A chiseled jaw introduced the beholder to the flawlessly constructed contours of his neck and face, with high cheekbones and large doe eyes remaining prominent and strong against the waves of abuse. Rover was by no means the most fortuitous of men, but he knew how to keep his stance steadied and his expression calm and without disfigurement. However, the large craters in which his eyes were engraved remained enshadowed by his chocolate bangs, perhaps shielding whatever pitfalls might have been forming in his demeanor. One thing about Rover; while he might have had the mental strength of a champion and the agility of a bobcat, anything that might have defined his preoccupations could be seen in those cerulean orbs of his.

Once the story of Raphael was completed, Forrest Collins took his time in recomposing himself. He could not look his superior in the eye with how unsure his withering gaze was, not without making himself a fool. No, showing his weaknesses now would only allow this bigot to use them against him in the future. Pinked and full lips would be pursed as Rover made great strides to let the threats ricochet off of his figure and be carried away by the winter breeze.

“Agent Saint was weak, which is why he let himself crumble. He was far too flawed to continue his work, but I am not, ya hear? He let his stupid emotions and feeeeelings get in the way, but I have none of those things to get in my way. So before you start insinuating that I am so easily demolished as he, let me tell ya that I am no bug to be stepped on. None of the agents are, and the erad... erad... eradication of Agent Saint was to our benefit, not to our loss.” Rover blinked slowly, and shifted his weight to his other thigh as to keep every nerve and vein alive as he continued.

“So you say you plan on doing all that, huh?” he asked, placing his wide hands on his slender hips and raising a brow. The gunner wouldn’t let any fear show through his glare. “If that kind of stuff gets you er... excited, then that’s fine with me. My swing doesn’t swing that way, though, so I’m afraid that I hafta decline your invitation. As enchanting as that may sound, I like my wang where it is, not in any other man’s hands. Now that I think about it, it would be hard to piss myself in shock if I don’t have a penis, don’tcha think?”

Agent Rover let a bit of a smile play at the corner of his lips, lips that were now regaining their color and complexion as he let his worries dispel from his mind. “I know my place, Mister Rap. I thought you knew yours as well, but you seem so threatened by a lowly servant like me that now I’m not so sure of that anymore. Don’t worry though, I can’t compete with ya; when it comes to being ruthless and cold-hearted, you sure take the cake over me any day!” Forrest knew that Raphael would take this as a compliment, so he didn’t encourage that point any further.

“No matter though, we all show one of our faults sometime, it’s only natural. I guess you should get your bondage buddy into that elevator there though, right right? Don’t let me delay the most timely of encounters; you know how I don’t like to be a bother,” Agent Rover added on wistfully, now beginning to rock on his heels as he held his hands behind him. Now, all he had to do is see if Agent Raphael would take the bait. There it was, dangling before him. All Raphael had to do was reach out and grasp it.
​

 

[Dean Winchester]

Resigned to just wait for Seraphim to grant him a meeting, Salazar decided to wait in the small hall which lead to several other rooms, one of them being Saint's old office. Salazar sat on a large white sofa, a small wooden oval shaped table was placed before the sofa, along with a few armchairs similar in color to the sofa, that were placed around the table. The large glass window allowed them to see most of the buildings around this pyramidal structure, a very strategic point chosen wisely by the agency. As he awaited, Salazar thought about how must have been Jonathan's life here in the Ministry, surely it must have been quite a miserable one. Salazar felt pity for these agents, after all they were just pawns, spendable assets that could be disposed of at any moment and for any reason. Deep within Salazar's eyes, one could see only one objective: absolute power, burning deep and craving for more, and more, unable to be satisfied no matter what it was done. Suddenly a male agent arrived, and it was stopped per Salazar's request.

"Evening gentleman" Salazar greeted him calmly. The agent turned to see him, curious about Salazar's presence here. Knowing that these agents are mostly quiet people, Salazar replied to the man's silence. "If you may be so kind, I would like to have a message delivered to Seraphim. Tell him I am here and that I am awaiting to meet him in his office. I need to ask him something. Oh, and tell them that he doesn't need to worry, I will be quick." The agent remained silent, but something could be seen deep behind the black glasses he was wearing. The agent nodded, and then he turned around to walk towards Seraphim's office.

 

[Contra Fates]

Gabriel could do nothing but stare at Rill with slightly widened eyes, not surprised or shocked, just not quite expecting that spectacle of mock-flaming homosexuality. Gabriel stifled out a chuckle, scratching at the back of his head as Rill puffed out his chest and stood beside him. "My pad's kind of modest, but, you won't find any gay porns or anything in there. ....Well, porn's illegal, anyway." Gabriel bit his lower lip and slipped his hands in his pockets, somehow deciding to cling to that 'porn' topic, as if it gave him bonus points in heterosexuality.

"You ever watched a porn, Rill?" Gabriel arched a brow as he looked at the other and awaited another. Porn was something that was banned over a decade ago by Big Brother, who found public views of fornication to be an utterly vile thing. Anyone caught filming, producing, selling, or watching porn risked a visit to Room 101. And, well...self-gratification wasn't worth a trip to that torture chamber.

"Sorry, man...can't help the superior genetics." Gabriel tipped his head back and flashed a bright, wide, pearly-white grin. He placed his arms at his hips and puffed up as Rill had done earlier, flexing a bit as though to prove his superiority. Of course, he only meant it in jest. He chuckled afterward and began walking in the direction of his home, a surprisingly clean and well kept-up apartment. For a kid as young and as reckless as he was, you wouldn't expect such a spotless place of residence.

​

Yukio remained sitting at the head of the table, idly pecking at the food placed before him. There was no doubt that Rusk was an incredible chef. That's why Yukio kept him around, just for that purpose. When that attractive and enthusiastic girl asked for his attention again, or, more importantly, asked if she could stay in the mansion for a longer time, Yukio couldn't do anything else but briefly stare in her direction and say: "Of course."

He was asked about other goals, besides being an investor, and this caused Yukio to rub at his chin in a pensive manner. "I want...the Ministry of Love destroyed. In fact, I want all of the Ministries destroyed. I want to live in a world where I don't have to cower in fear of my own thoughts, where I can be a free man, and so can my fellow man. There is something...very, very wrong in this world." Yukio paused, glancing at the remaining persons that were about that table. "I won't lie. I'm deeply motivated by selfish reasons...revenge, mostly. I was brought in to Room 101 and tortured for several months." For someone to be tortured for months in Room 101, and come out as sparkling as Yukio was...well, that was quite a feat! Of course, Yukio was a starved, weak shell of a man when he was finally released from Room 101. If his servants hadn't nursed him back to health as effectively as they had, it's possible that he would have died.

"The public gave the Ministry a fair amount of backlash after they discovered what had happened to me, the one they like to think of as 'The Last Prince,' and so I was finally released from Room 101, and my home was granted immunity. I suppose the Agents felt dealing with one treasonous man wasn't worth the public backlash." He paused, rubbing at his arms in an insecure, almost childlike manner. "...I'll never forget what that bastard did to me. That demon...who called himself Seraphim."

​

It had been over a week, and Agent Seraphim was finally returning to the Ministry of Love. He looked as pristine as ever, in a black coat, with that customary red undershirt, black slacks, and black dress shoes that shined like mirrors. Yet, there was something...slightly different about Seraphim. Perhaps the time off from the Ministry, had acted as a sort of 'vacation' for the man. Or, maybe there really was something different about him.

Agent Michael had been given control of the Ministry, and as Seraphim walked through the cleaned up and restored area of the lobby, it seemed that Michael had done a decent enough job of keeping order...or, maybe the lower government officials realized that if they didn't fix that lobby, that they'd have hell to pay. A good amount of those officials cowered at the thought of Seraphim spending more than a fraction of his time on them. So, they did their jobs to the best of their abilities.

Seraphim had already known what it was he had to do, the moment he walked into the Ministry. An invitation was delivered to Salazar to meet Seraphim in his office, with an accompanying keycard that would only be effective for that one visit, before expiring. Seraphim also saw to it that a message was delivered to the newly promoted Shauna. With that done, Seraphim would arrive at his office door, and slide his newly issued access card. After being granted access, he would step inside, the door automatically closing behind him. He'd move to sit behind his desk, and would lean back with a grin. It was good to be back.

​

 

[Soul Saver]

As things turned out, Imraldis was called off again for some other duty. Pity.
Spectre had, within the time of one or two weeks, based himself at the Berlin HQ, working with the officers and agents there to track down several thought criminals. So far, he had located a cell of thirteen terrorists, who had all been arrested without much bloodshed. Not the sort of investigation Spectre had expected, but still. It ended with the location and retrieval of an important intelligence asset.

As Spectre boarded the Junker-3005D jet liner in Berlin, he looked at the black briefcase in his right hand before stepping through the airlock. The rather attractive stewardess gave a nervous smile at the sight of Spectre's I.D card, then turned red. "First class is to the left, sir."

"Thank you,... Jenny."
Haha. I pull the ladies every time.

Spectre grinned, and took a window seat near the front of the jet, but not so close as to be at risk in the unlikely event of a crash.
He put his normal briefcase in the luggage compartment, and guarded the black one on his lap. Its contents were a secret that only Spectre and his superiors were to know.

He could only be vigilant, as rebels might take the opportunity to hijack the plane and seize the briefcase back.

The ministry was on temporary alert, and officers would be at the aerodrome to ensure it arrived at its destination. At the moment though, it was exposed.

 

[Kenpachi]

His return to the city had a spark of annoyance in it for Imraldis, especially concerning that bastard Spectre
"That bastard," he ranted to himself, "who does he think he is, my mission, which I can only now begin got put off because of him and his..."
He broke off and simply growled, low and threatening, and shifted into a more comfortable watching stance.
He was standing on the roof of a building that had been marked for demolition a long time ago, but the demolishiners had mysteriously "disappeared".
Imraldis had long thought of it as a good spot to hunt.
Looking down, the weather began to crackle and boom, a heavy thunderstorm, it seemed, was imminent, and that gave the image of Imraldis -tall and slender in his black cloak, standing against the waning moonlight and with the dark clouds overhead- one of complete and utter evil and stealth.
Tonight, he decided, would be a good night to begin his true hunt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Silk, on the other hand, had eventually managed to deliver the information to every other Rebel in the mansion, by the simple yet effective means of announcing loudly that he had important information under everyone's chairs and that he would leave now.
Then, while everyone had been looking, he had placed the dossier's in front of everyone's plates.
Then he had left.
It was too cramped in there, he decided, and his return to the dank streets that were the home of his profession made him more at ease.
Unfortunately for him, he would soon find he was being tracked.
His first -very very obvious- clue had come when he had walked down a quiet alleyway, only to have someone take a swing at him with a sword.
Silk had dropped and sprung up, but the assailant was as good as he, and such a rudimentary move had only caught him off guard for a moment, before the fight had really begun. For nearly an hour they had fought, until they had stopped without saying a word, and left simultaneously.
Now, Silk was sitting in his little apartment, listening to the weather outside, and waiting for the time for him to leave. He had important people to see, a task from one of his informants, and he would need to leave soon.
The crack and boom of an imminent thunderstorm made him smile, and open his window.
Now, he decided, would be a good time to begin his mission.

 

[Toxic Variations]

Raphael was instantly amused. Leave it to this one to stand up to him. Well, he was very much amused, more so then usual. A smile curled it's way along his lips. Many others would've instantly quivered and apologized, but not this kid. Anything that brought him out of his ceaseless detachment, boredom, was wonderful. Raphael would leave the man in peace, afterall, he deserved it. The smile would fall and once more his face would be blank, unreadable, producing nothing. Without any palpable feeling. A left index finger would raise and Raphael would stroke his bottom lip. He seemed to be in deep thought, but why? What was going through his mind?

" Ah, I see. Very good! Not many would've stood up, to me, like that. Keep doing it. Anything fresh and new, in my world, is instantly appreciated. Even insolent brats. ' Mister Rap ' will be leaving you in peace now. Ha ha. "

Raphael would chuckle to himself as he turned around and left the man behind. He would casually stuff his hands, down into his pockets, and climb the stairs to his office. He had no use for Weiss now that he had been thoroughly violated. Perhaps, he'd do something with him, later, but for now he was more concerned on his various duties. A few hours were spent surveying the actions and thoughts of hundreds, as was the job of an Agent. You had the usual criminals, the low level types, who weren't that much of a concern- and then you'd have those various few, who you had to bring in, there was no getting by it. It was difficult to lock onto the rebel's hideout, whereabouts, etc. Whoever was leading them was quite skilled - naturally, they would stay away from telescreens, do whatever it took to have them out of range. If one wanted to gather information, one must be among the crowd. A few hours later, he would leave the Ministry once more and head over to the Chestnut Tree cafe. He wasn't dressed, to look the part of an Agent, of course. Silvery hair was now a shade of dirt brown and it was ragged and dirty underneath the hat he wore. Large glasses, smudged in a few places, were setting atop his nose. Grey eyes roamed over the occupants - gleaning their thoughts from their minds, ever so easily. Raphael often frequented this cafe, he had for months. He drew his brown coat, a thing with a huge fur collar, around his thin frame. The man looked cold and sick, surely, to those around him. He could be nothing more then a piteous homeless wretch - a lucky fool who managed to snatch enough money for one drink.

 

[Tzakeran]

Giggling Chimitsu smiled over at Mamoru, "Well then, if your sure you can handle her I'll make sure she's ready in a few days. Course we'll decied on a price by then. Oh, leaving already? Take care Mamoru Sweety!" Looking down towards her plate as Mamoru took his leave, she noticed a piece of paper that wasn't there earlier,

"Huh? What's this?...Passing notes Whity-Chan? *giggle* You know I like my men to just come out and say it...." Her voice dropped off as his started up. As she listened to the story coming from Yukio's mouth she felt a slight stirring in her chest. As he finished, Chimitsu rose from her seat and strode over to Yukio's and wrapped her arms around his neck, and cradled his head to her amble chest, "Poor Whity-chan, it's ok, just let it out! We'll get through this!" Continuing to hold his head to her breasts, she took out the paper and opened it, "Now don't tell me this note and speech is just something to get your head between my boobs?" Smiling she started to read the "note", "Oh, well now isn't this interesting...hmm....Well your wish to destroy the Ministry might have just gotten a push towards reality. Look at this baby, the enitire Ministry's defense system's are outlined in detail, course how reliable this will be after that last attack....? Who can say, well....Rebel contact info, this could prove useful, wouldn't you say? By they way, do you have an engineering lab or chemistry lab of anysort within here? And where is my room located?....Next to yours?"

 

[Toxic Variations]

The Chestnut Tree cafe was busy as usual. You could say this was a popular haunt for the poets, the dreamers of dreams, the mad and foolish individuals who dreamed of rebellion. Amorita loved it here, she always had. There was something deeply special about this place - maybe it was the clean windows, which sparkled in the morning late, or perhaps the perfumed smoke of cigars and men's musky cologne. If one could enjoy one's workplace, she did. Surprising it was, afterall, she had only been here a few weeks. It was a haven for her, from loneliness, from the drap and pitiful stone chamber she called an apartment. She stood behind the bar and listened to the voices of the various men and women, who seemed locked in their own worlds, speaking of the world and how it was moving towards the better. No, they were wrong about that. But really, did any of them mean it? Perhaps not. You couldn't love who you wanted, in this world; you couldn't speak the words in your heart. You hide behind a mask of compliance, in fear of losing your life or worse, losing someone close to you. The people said what Big Brother wanted them to say and she, Amorita, said nothing at all. When had she decided to stomp out the fire of her spirit and obey? Surely she hadn't snuffed out that hopeful, passionate teenager, who believed in freedom of choice, freedom of memory, freedom of thought - freedom of l o v e. She need only find that girl again, somewhere, deep within the chamber of her soul. The past was waiting. Snatch it back, into your hands, Amorita, or simply let it pass by.

She was a dark and lonely figure to look upon. Black hair was heavy and wild around her face - dark as the night around her shoulders and filled with curls down her back. One of those women, yes, you seek to understand but can never fully know. There was a quiet mystery in those green irises, shadowed as they were in splashes of midnight. Eyes that would steal you, enchant you, hold you forever prisoner. Full lips, red as spilled blood, were slick and shining against her pale flesh. She must look beautiful, for her customers, if only to earn a larger tip when they departed her company. Body was wrapped in a long sleeved blouse of black, with a V neck, dipping down to the tender swell of her breasts. A skirt, of the same color, was of a long length and it covered her legs just down to the knees and there, upon her feet, were glossy stilettos. An elegant outfit, one which suited her deep rooted soul. An old necklace, poorly made but precious, glittered around her throat. When you arrive, she will always greet you with a smile. That warm, inviting personality, of hers, could open anyone's heart. Old poetry comes to mind: She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes. Though now, at this time in the world, all poetry was dead.

 

[Reality.Fantasy]

Slow, mechanical blinks were released in seemingly timed intervals as Agent Rover moved his hands from his shapely hips to across his chest, folding them firmly before him. A small smirk appeared on his fine features, perhaps reflecting the new expression that was plastered on the usually unmitigated face of one Agent Raphael. It was in this manner that Rover was a master of his craft. Every motion and emotion and countenance was mimicked and stored for later use. Forrest could not create his own air about him; he had to leech everything from those around him. Had he been the only man on Earth from birth, he would be as cold and blank as a victim of Room 101.

However, now that he was aged past twenty, he had a vast repertoire of countenances harbored and ready for immediate use. Convenience was an underappreciated virtue in these times.However, Agent Rover was reasonably unprepared for Raphael’s response. “Oh... right, yeah,” he sputtered unceremoniously, tapping his right foot out of meter with his thoughts as he quickly mulled this over. “Great.” His blue orbs traveled from Raphael to the abandoned hall behind him past the entrance, watching as he became very amused and enthused while excusing himself. It all went by so quickly, Rover was not quite sure if it even happened. As the higher-up Agent turned away, Forrest raised his hand to his face and grazed each contour and line with his fingers to make sure he was still there, and it wasn’t in fact a delusion. Despite his attempts, his mind was having trouble registering what his eyes were beholding.

As ‘Mister Rap’s’ presence was soon fading, the tension dispelling rapidly, the deep blue eyes moved to the figure of Weiss. The smirk Rover held evolved into a smile, somehow gleaming dully even with the overcast in the world above him. A witty statement could have been placed here in this moment, but instead he permitted the two to coexist in silence. Not only did Agent Rover earn the attention of Agent Raphael, he earned his respect. This was something Agent Weiss was dying to obtain, thus acting like a spineless servant just to butter him up. His efforts were to no avail. Forrest bit his pinked bottom lip and simply turned on his heel, striding down the grey path that wound around the ministry as his boot clicks faded to nothing.

Rover [1 – 0] Weiss.

A loud, harsh sound slipped in underneath Caleb’s psyche and uprooted it magnificently. The debris of thoughts once pondered were scattered across the brainwaves, carried to unknown locations in the impenetrable darkness. It was with this interruption that the young man’s honey-dipped eyes fluttered open angelically. Yes, he was still huddled in his confine, his lean back pressed into the space where the two papered walls met to fashion a corner. His posterior seemed glued to the floor, but with a back-throated groan, he slid down to fold himself at the neck and skull, and then used his trained arms to push himself up off of the ground. With both feet planted on the ground, wobbly legs carried him up to his full height, and for the first time in a long while, the world came into focus.

“Information?” Caleb whispered, then looked to one of the ivory chairs at the dining table where a wide whale of a man sat slouched. He didn’t seem too concerned about the folder underneath his chair, him being engrossed in whatever was being demolished on his plate by his thick lips and gray whiskers. Stealthily, the café worker descended to his knees once more, then crawled across to the chair and looked up through frayed bangs to make sure the man didn’t suddenly flatten him with a great start. Narrow fingers skated across the spotless carpet to the parcel, where he immediately picked it up and drew it to his bosom, cradling it as he would an infant. His head turned to find a small party of ‘rebels’ emerging from a side corridor, and he ducked behind a potted plant to allow them to pass without seeing his burglary. Once the silver-dressed woman stumbled past, inebriated, he slipped into the passage and took shelter behind the opposite side of the plant, now facing carved wooden walls on the other side of the hall.

When he was sure that his secluded location was in fact private, he slid down against the wall and landed on his sore rear, still clutching the folder in hand. Immediately, he folded his legs and pried open the folder on his thighs, thumbing through the papers and stopping at a particular document that was of remote interest to him. “The... Ministry of Love?” Caleb asked aloud, eyes widening behind his chocolate veil, now concentrating all of his energy into being able to read the small font. Although he considered himself as blind as a bat without his specs, he still tried to depict the words before him in an attempt to find out information that he probably shouldn’t know in the first place.

Thankfully, the important headers were in a much bigger font, cluing Caleb off that this packet of information was for this rebel organization’s aims at finally succeeding in an assault on the Ministry. He had heard through a grapevine of such ventures taking place, but the media rarely revealed the happenings of the Ministry when such events happen, unless little to no damage was taken. However, he knew that if whatever they were planning came to fruition with the aid of these blueprints and papers, the dent they leave at the Ministry might be permanent this time around. Was it worth the risk? Were all of these people really yahoos? And why here, at the Tokugawa Mansion?

Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he peeked around the gardened hedge over to the man who he suspected to be Yukio. The homeowner didn’t look very shifty if that was indeed he, but of course, it could always be a façade. Caleb didn’t know, and he wasn’t too keen on going up and asking the blonde-haired man eye-to-eye. Instead, this would take a bit of detective work. A sideways glance at the other ‘rebels’ in the room ignited a well-executed strafe against the spotless walls, the grooves transferring him down to the end of the hall and to a staircase that expectedly wound up to the second floor. It just struck Caleb right then and there that he wasn’t just sifting through a wayward shack; he was trying to find a needle in a mansion.

10:29 PM, and time was slipping through his fingers.
​

 

[Leki]

Mizu continued to walk down the street, head barely lifted and looked at the passing people. Then she noticed the quaint little cafe. 'The Chestnut Tree Cafe', the sign read. She smiled as she looked in, noting a few people sitting to the side, playing a game of chess. A few people holding worn and tattered books or -she frowned slightly- phamplets. She put the smile back on, and went in through the door. It was quite a lovely place to thin, apparetnly. Several people were sitting and just dreaming and thinking, apparently. She picked a seat, wondering what other people dreamt of. She knew she dreamt of freedom. But.... no one could really voice their dreams. Except maybe rebels.

She looked over, then stood up to go to the counter. She wondered if she was ordering the right way, and hoped not to make a fool of herself.

She looked at the waitress (Amorita?). She had to stiffle the urge to put her fingers nervously to her mouth.

"Um, ma'am? Can I please have a small hot chocolate?" She smiled slightly, trying to keep the nervousness out of her eyes and smile. All this thought of REBELS and FREEDOM... well... it unnerved her. Because she did have a child to take care of, and she didn't want things to go wrong.

 

[Kenpachi]

Imraldis looked down for a moment, the rain starting up, and saw a brief movement.
Someone was coming out of there flats.
On the seventh floor.
Smiling slightly, he drew his sword and, waiting for a second, he jumped, sword point down, and he hurtled down towards his unsuspecting victim.
-------------------
It was raining, the silvery drizzle getting heavier by the minute, and Silk decided now would be the perfect time to leave.
Opening his seventh story window, he popped his head out, then stepped out onto a tiny ledge.
Standing still for a moment, he ducked back inside briefly to get a drill, when he heard a loud WHOOSHing soudn behind him.
Looking back, then looking down, Silk couldn't see anything, the rain was too heavy, and he had errands to run.
-------------------
Imraldis missed, and now he was annoyed.
His target had ducked back inside for a moment. And that was all it took, and Imraldis missed him.
It wasn't a total waste, for as fortune had it, some random passer-by had taken Imraldis' sword point at a blinding speed, cutting him in two.
Literally.
Feeling the night wasn't a total waste, Imraldis set out, hunting for his hated brother. Silk was out there, and he would be found, and killed.

 

[Toxic Variations]

Oh, it would seem she had neglected to greet a customer! She would do that right now. The click clack of heels could be heard, as she made her way to the young woman who had just asked for hot chocolate. Black hair swirled and tumbled against slender shoulders. Amorita could see the apprehension, in her eyes, as well as that nervousness which often accompanies those who step in. It was understandable, afterall, if an Agent of the Thought Police came in ( And they could practically be anyone ) and knew of your unstable thoughts, regarding the government, you'd be arrested right then and there. You had to be strong and, whenever you stepped outside your door, convice yourself you were a content citizen, you adored Big Brother, and would never be a threat. It wasn't as radical as Double Think, but it was close to it. Amorita stopped and reached, inside of her cleanly pressed apron, to pull out a pad and a pen. If they should ever come to get her, she wondered, how they'd hold her. Not even Satan himself could tie her down, not with her iron resolve to live, to exist, to not disappear. She will go on living, strong as steel, and without vulnerability? She was dangerous, yes, because of her strength. Eyes were quiet, burning, and unlockable.

"Welcome to the Chestnut Tree cafe. My name is Amorita and I'll be serving you today. "

Her smile was warm and inviting - just as her voice was, dark and husky, the kind of voice you could close your eyes to and simply dream. Green eyes would gaze down at the face of Mizu. The order would be written down.

" Hot chocolate? Ah, that sounds lovely. And would you like anything else? We have a fine, beef stew! It'll warm you up and put some meat on those little bones. "

A playful wink of the right eye. Amorita would place a menu, down upon the table. She should be more careful and stop her dangerous behavior, but she simply couldn't be so cold and distant with those who walked in. Hell, even this young lady by the name of Mizu could be an Agent. But alas, she couldn't call people: comrade, she couldn't just close herself off from her feelings. Perhaps, the woman was on a fast track to destruction. If she could bring a smile, to a poor and lonesome person, then that was something she'd be happy to do. To Hell with destruction, to hell with fear. Whatever may come, will come. If she can find it in herself to walk the path of truth and freedom, she will walk it - and die, at it's end.

" I'll tell you what: I'll go take care of the hot chocolate. If you see anything else, you might want, let me know, sweet heart. "

Amorita would leave the young lady behind and take care of her order. The thing was: She felt a cold chill run down her spine. It was as if some demon had crawled forth, out of the pit of hell, and infected the warm presence of the cafe. As Amorita walked back to the lady, carrying a steaming cup of rich hot chocolate, she locked eyes with a man she hadn't noticed before. Those grey eyes stared right into her own, green eyes stared back, and then Amorita looked away. A moment of silence, of fate, of beginnings and endings. It would just be her luck, for some damned son of a bitch, to come in here and strip her thoughts, from her mind, and then lock her up. She would place the steaming cup, of chocolate, down before Mizu. Her hand, trembled, just a little as she sat the cup down. Those eyes, soo grey, much like the sky before a rain storm. Those eyes were familiar.

"There you are. Our finest chocolate. "

 

[Leki]

Mizu smiled in thanks, greatly appreciating the kindness, and picked the steaming cup up in her small hands. She noticed that little tremble of the hand, only because she had been looking at the cup, but still she noticed it. She decided not to say anyting. No reason to give any chance of alerting any Thought Police that may be here.

"Thank you very much Amorita. And that's alright with the beef stew. I think this'll hit the spot by itself." She smiled and gave a wink back, taking a sip, settling back into her seat. As she sipped, she wondered how she could get through this. Unlike how Amortia seemed strong, Mizu was weak. She wasn't a fighter. She had will, especially when it came to her little daughter, but she didn't know how she could last on her own. And her 'husband' wouldn't be much help. Since divorce generaly wasn't allowed, her husband just ignored her. So, she didn't have him to lean on. She glanced around since her back was against the wal, and it wouldn't seem as suspicious since she didn't have to turn around to do so, watching Amorita and the man with the gray eyes.

....Could he be an Agent? She hoped Amortia would be alright.

 

[Soul Saver]

One hour into the flight, and nothing was amiss.
Alot of paperwork to do when he got home, and certainly nothing to look forward to. After the contents of the briefcase had been delivered, of course. Spectre wanted a rest, but he certainly wasn't going to get time off. Duty as always.

Something cold and metallic pressed into Spectre's ear.

"Freeze, you bastard!" Whoever it was, it sounded like a middle age woman.

????

A distress call was sent before Spectre even looked. Adrenaline took hold, and the agent was frozen in shock.

"Don't move!" The voice said again, "search him and take the briefcase!"

The lady who searched Spectre seemed instantly familiar. Captain Chorley! The black jumpsuit and balaclava could not hide her identity.

"Wh...Why?? You traitor!" Spectre growled, oblivious to the consequences.

"Freedom and justice, what else?" Alice Chorley forced the agent up with unexpected strength.

"Freedom to be corrupt and decadent, that's what!" The gun pressed harder against his skull, and Chorley searched inside his pockets.

"You won't be needing these, I guess." His gun holsters and ninjato sheath felt light. Spectre was pushed to the floor. Alice and two others pointed their guns at Spectre. One was a male steward, the skeletal woman who put a gun to his head was clothed in a business suit. The latter spoke gently. "We won't kill you, we're not like big brother."

Not hard to see why he had been caught off guard, the seats to the rear had been quietly emptied, and there were no passengers in front. Clever.

"Goodnight."

Spectre yelped as he was shot in the arm... a dart. Play along, they obviously aren't aware of the secret immunity to tranquiliser. Ohhhhhh..... The agent felt... wooozy.... couldn't... seee... straighttt...... everything blurry....

Spectre passed out.