[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/QIHIT80.png[/img]
[sub][@Ariamis][/sub][/center]
Ten minutes after Justine’s message was sent out, a SUV with tinted windows pulled into the parking lot, backing in smoothly. Stepping out from all four doors in an almost uncanny unison were four men dressed sharply in three-piece suits. Each of them carried a bag of some sort, whether it be a sports bag, a fishing bag, or a leather clutch, and any particularly astute observer would see the curious trinkets around their fingers, in their earlobes, or hanging from their necks. They carried a small fortune in magical artifacts, purchases made with ill-gotten money and blood-sealed connections, and they wore it with a pride that only bastards could.

The boss, a stubble chinned brunette with a strong jaw, strolled casually into the rippling space that Sonia had generated, letting out a low whistle as he took in the absolute nothing that was the gathering. [b]“Damn,”[/b] he said, with no particular commitment. [b]“Thought the brights would be more eager than us for this shit.”[/b]

A pale-skinned thug, his tiger-like eyes gleaming in the subdued lighting of the generated space, grinned. Plopping down on one of the chairs, he reclined, slamming his feet on another set of chairs. [b]“Ain’t no biggie, boss. First come first serve for refreshments, ye? Oi, waitress! Got some meat on you or what?”[/b]

[b]“Ignore him,”[/b] a dour-faced man cut in. Amongst the quartet of gangsters, he was the one that looked most at home in a business suit, and, ignoring the half-hearted curses from his younger colleague, he turned towards Justine. [b]“The Red Nest has come to fulfill our side of the contract. You are certain that the Cradle will act?”[/b]

The final member did not enter the space yet. Staying outside, he stood beside a concrete pillar to light a cigarette. He took a drag, blew out a cloud, and closed his eyes, his other senses alert for the approach of others. The boss had always been more about profit than vengeance when it came to their line of work; he couldn’t count the amount of brethren they had lost over the decades to those dogs of the Patrons. In this particular case though, profit and vengeance intersected.

It would be a good day today. He looked forward to it.