[center] [img] http://i383.photobucket.com/albums/oo276/metalsonic2nd/nyx%20banner%20with%20text_zpstsw2wgcs.png [/img] [/center] The soft city lights shone dimly through the blacked out windows of the stretch limousine, the buildings and streets outside gliding swiftly past as the long car sped onwards. Nyxvira sat comfortably in the back, her obese form spilling out over a lush leather recliner, her blazing red hair tied up in a swirling bun above her head, with two stray locks tumbling loosely down across her plump cheeks. Three of her most trusted associates sat across from her, talking over the specifics of their plan. “There’s no denying the element of risk involved,” Vincent Tűzst was grumbling in his rough drawl “but if we don’t kick these hairy fucks out of the city ASAP then there’s no telling how much damage they’ll do before they get bored and go slinking back into the countryside.” “The Hunters have been wrecking my properties all across Santa Somabra,” hissed Imarus Vérafia “they’ve already caused more than enough damage to our operations. They need to be put down, and I don’t mean slapping them on the wrist and giving them a stern talking to. We need to make sure this is the last time they present a problem to us.” Imarus was dressed in a red turtleneck and black chinos, which hung loosely over his pale skeletal body. His eyeless sockets stared out into the air in front of him, and a permeant toothy grin was plastered across his smooth white skull. “Using the police is a gambit in itself,” Lady Sharrahonzu observed dryly “we’d be foolish to assume we’re the only people to buy them out. There’s no telling if they’re double agents for the Martovanni’s, or the Nyctari, or someone else entirely.” Sharrahonzu was a lithe figure, with closely-cropped raven hair, and delicate Asian features. She had high cheekbones, and her blind eyes were obscured by a rich swathe of dark silk. “There are alternatives,” Imarus admitted, scratching at his bony chin “but the longer we allow the Hunters to roam unchecked the longer we risk them dealing permanent damage to everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” “We?” Nyxvira spoke up in her sweet, sensual voice “I don’t remember any of you during the struggle to take Chinatown from the tong. I don’t remember any of you being there when the Hanged Men came crawling back out of the shadows, and the Old Jewellery district got burned to the ground. I don’t remember any of you being there when my own family cast me out of the grove that was mine –BY RIGHT-, and I had to carve myself a new home with magic and blood.” She extended one fat hand, delicately scooping a martini glass up off of a nearby drinks holder, before taking a light swig from its liquid contents, feeling it burn lightly at the back of her throat. “I built my empire singlehandedly.” She said firmly, placing her drink back down “you all jumped on board once the guns had stopped firing and the smoke had cleared, so don’t presume to lecture me on how to run my own creation. When I want your council, I’ll ask for it.” “Apologies, Mistress.” Lady Sharrahonzu offered up with a slight bow of her head. They spent the rest of the car journey in silence, until the limo pulled up outside the Golden Dragon Takeaway. Her three advisers were quick to file out of the car, but it took Nyxvira a great deal of awkward shambling and squeezing, and for a moment it looked as though she wouldn’t quite fit. The interior of the shop was simple, with only a few tables, chairs, and a display counter containing a variety of mildly appealing-looking food. The staff and owners had been sent home, leaving the establishment devoid of life. Tűzst leapt behind the counter, fishing out a paper bag and stuffing it full of a steaming batch of special fried rice, crispy prawn crackers, and sauce-slathered ribs. “We’re gonna be here a while.” He reasoned “Who wants what?” “I don’t have a stomach or taste buds, you wrinkly old fuck.” Imarus snapped. If he had muscles, he’d probably be frowning. “My bad.” Tűzst said with a broad grin. “Anything for you, ladies?” “Ribs, special fried rice, sea weed, chicken satay, a bundle of prawn crackers, and some of those king prawns, if you’d be so kind.” Nyx chirped up, plopping down in one of the metal stools. “Something with duck in it.” Lady Sharrahonzu croaked. The group began tucking into their meals, all clumped around a tacky plastic table, whilst Imarus stared on enviously. Halfway through chowing down, Tűzst’s phone let out a sharp buzz. “I fucking hate these smartphones…” Tűzst mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, tapping aggressively at the screen as it lit up with a bright blue light. “I can’t take this one out of the charger for five minutes before it bloody well dies on me.” “Got a new snapchat?” Nyx asked with a smirk. Tűzst’s glassy grey eyes swept over the screen. “They’re in position.” On a distant rooftop, a team of armour-clad snipers fixed their guns on the Golden Dragon, their weapons loaded with hollow-point rounds. “If anyone tries to disturb us, they end up in the next batch of sushi.” The old man said with a triumphant grin. “Sushi is Japanese, you uncultured swine.” Lady Sharrahonzu scowled. “Wait…which one does curry?” He asked with a look of confusion. “Indian.” Nyx replied helpfully, failing to repress a laugh “I tend to steer away from it. Gives me terrible gas.” “I thought Mexican was the one that gave people gas?” Imarus pondered. “Everything gives her gas.” Tűzst smirked. “D’you want to walk home?” “Sorry, boss lady.” Nyx ripped the meat off of some ribs, licking the sauce off of her fat fingers, as she gazed out into the darkness of the street beyond. “Our guests should be here soon.” She declared “Let’s be sure to give them a warm welcome.” “Are we sure the police are gonna be enough?” Imarus thought aloud. “Vérafia, you Silly fucking Symphony reject, what did I say in my bitching rant during the car?” Nyx chided half-jokingly. “Sorry, boss lady.” “Skulduggery Pleasant’s right though,” Tűzst grumbled “we might need an insurance policy.” “I didn’t realize you were capable of referencing things which came out after the invention of the wheel.” Imarus hissed at the old man. “I have grand kids.” Tűzst said with a shrug. “We’ll be hard pushed to find reliable muscle at such short notice,” Nyx groaned, rubbing her temples before stuffing down a spoonful of special fried rice. Tűzst looked down at his phone, a big toothy grin flashing across his face. “What about some ex-Martovanni muscle, fresh off of the corpse cart?”