[center][h1]Reaver[/h1]
[i]Somewhere that people don't look[/i][/center]

The day after Reaver had met with Chloe, he would hear the ring of an old phone coming from one of the side alleys he passed by. Upon entering the alley to investigate, he would see that there was a door opened at the end of the alley; the sign said “Moody Blues Cafe”, and from the inside jazzy music could be heard, and cigar smoke floated out like a black, foggy trail. When Reaver entered, he found himself in a monochrome world: the cafe was in black and white, as if he was walking inside an old photograph. The cafe resembled the type used in the 1920’s, where big bands played on a stage, and cigarettes were found between the fingers of every hand. But now, only ghosts lingered, phantasms who laughed and conversed meaningless murmurs, the cacophony and livelihood of the place a mere illusion. 

What was most striking was the darkness that pervaded the corners of the room, shifting and moving as if alive, only kept away by candlelight on the tables, and a single spotlight on the otherworldly musicians. 
[b]“So you finally found your way to the Big Strawberry eh, peguci?”[/b] Reaver heard a familiar voice, and turned to see the shadow of a tall, british man in a pinstripe suit extend on the floor from a candlelight. The shadow then physically lifted itself up from the floor, resembling the leaning move Michael Jackson made in “Smooth Criminal,” only he stood up completely, towering over the Ebon agent. It was Al Scarpe, and he didn’t look pleased. [b]“And first thing you do is find some pretty heels to step on you.”[/b]

Reaver raised an eyebrow, eyeing the tall Al Scarpe. He sighed, drawing a hand through his well-kept hair. He was dressed sharply, with a three piece suit. He thought he would fit the atmosphere. Sometimes you had to meet the bosses. Even if it was a ghastly place.

“Mr Scarpe, Business sometimes intersects with pleasure. That lovely dark orchid is definitely a morsel on the eye. What lacks in size, she has in technique.” Reaver said, cordially as he bowed slightly to the tall man. “But I find this intrusion… on my life peculiarly poignant.”

[b]“Hah, you still know how to speak like a wretched snake, Reaver,”[/b] Al responded, and held two fingers to the side. With a tiny burst of black flame, a lit cigar appeared between them. [b]“There is a time...” [/b]He paused to smoke, puffing out a black cloud of smoke right in Reaver’s face. [b]“...And place for getting kicks, and getting kicked, capische? We are now living the big times.”[/b] He turned towards the bar, and with a snap of his fingers a ghostly bartender began mixing a couple of sophisticated drinks. [b]“But first, we drink. It has been some time since I last saw you, peguci. You might want to learn what has happened here, si?” [/b]

A new spotlight shone on the wall facing away from the bar, resembling an old-fashioned projector screen. Live video of various events began playing on it.
[b]“‘Penrose was left to dust, and monsters took a clip to the place. So Beacon called in Ascendancy; you may have heard of them before. They are ruining the family business, shutting down banks and forcing us to lam. But now, there will be war between cops and zips. And that is why I called you here.”[/b] The drinks were now ready, and Al made one of the drinks slide through the air to Reaver before he took his own. [b]“But, first, I have a job for you.”[/b]

Reaver took a deep inhale of the smoke. When would he get his own cigars? He wondered, they looked kinda nasty, but manly and definitely dapper. He eyed Scarpe as he awaited the drinks. “Io capisco, signore Scarpe.”  He then began seeing the images, and could not help a smile draw on his face. More like a smile, it was the kind of grin a hungry wolf did before prey. “Odin will be pleased.” He said before taking a sip. “Chloe not so much, although that pretty broad insists on plundering a Beacon cardinal. Oops, that was supposed to be the big plan. I am such a loudmouth.” He added. Al Scarpe rolled his eyes.[b] “Even if it’s family, it was a buried job. I’ll make sure to punish her for the slip.”[/b]

“Does it involve blood?” Reaver asked. “My deity’s being… kind of unreasonable these days. Sure he was accommodating at first with… my image change, but now it’s all Snake poison on the eyes while being trapped in Hel. He say he’s sick of pig. Can you imagine? Sick of tasty pork!” He babbled before eyeing the mafioso once more. 

[b]“You’ll have your fill, when the streets run red,”[/b] Al responded, and took a swig of his glass. [b]“When the day of the party is at hand, there will be great chaos. You are to take the opportunity and perform lupara bianca on...Who was it...”[/b] He pulled out what looked like a black binder tucked in his suit, and opened it. [b]“Ah, yes...Cindy Ford. The capone of the underground zips.[/b]” He took another puff of his cigar, and it now came out as an ashen, gray cloud. 
[b]“But for now, you will go back to Chloe, play little dog for her, and report what she eats alone; making crank, collecting cugines, everything. She thinks she can run an outfit, but she has yet to realize; the Mint always collects their debts.”[/b]

“I suppose you don’t mind er, the pretty beacon thing going missing? Part of the cover of course.” Reaver said, although he probably had much more mundane intentions. Like getting stepped on. “Mm, hiding it is often more difficult than performing the deed, but alright.”  He tilted his head.

“Understood signore Scarpe. I gotta say, I really like the style of this joint. Very classy… and dark. I sincerely hope you don’t have to try and collect mine in such a way. I’d hate to actually consecrate every single person of the Mint to Odin.” Reaver added. “It won’t be personal though. Just… business.”

For a moment, Al simply looked at Reaver, as if to see if Reaver would add anything else. [b]“You might be a masochistic bastard, but you get the job done. And those who work, they get to eat.”[/b] He now manifested another cigar, lit it, and flicked it like a coin to Reaver. [b]“Here, for not getting on my nerves. Your little barks amuse me.”[/b] However, the moment Reaver took a smoke from it, he realized the cigar itself was made from slips of paper advertising the services of various dominatrices and other masochistic interests, just as the cigar began burning from the far end:
Reaver had to choose between taking the smoke or putting the flame out before the cigar turned to ash.

Reaver cracked a smirk after being had in such a way. It was really creative and amusing, so he took the cigar, and opening his mouth… quenched the flame on his tongue, a sound of flesh charred and burning being heard. 

“Woof, Woof.” He added, his grin wide.