Recent Statuses

21 days ago
Current I'm starting to think the Mayans misspelled "2021" on their calendar.
22 days ago
Jumping rope is really just dancing with a punishment for screwing up.
28 days ago
The site would be more active during the day if y'all didn't live on the wrong side of the planet >:)
1 like
1 mo ago
Mods? It's your time to shine
1 mo ago
Alright, Christmas is over. Back to drowning my sorrows in a river of vodka



"πšƒπš‘πš’πšœ πš›πš˜πš˜πš–, πšπš‘πš’πšœ πš‹πšžπš•πš•πšŽπš. πšƒπš‘πšŽπš›πšŽ'𝚜 𝚊 πš‹πšžπš•πš•πšŽπš πšπš˜πš› πšŽπšŸπšŽπš›πš’πš˜πš—πšŽ. π™°πš—πš 𝚊 πšπš’πš–πšŽ. π™°πš—πš 𝚊 πš™πš•πšŠπšŒπšŽ. π™°πš— πšŽπš—πš. 𝚈𝚎𝚜... πš–πšŠπš’πš‹πšŽ πšπš‘πš’πšœ πš’πšœ πš‘πš˜πš  πš’πš πš‘πšŠπšœ 𝚝𝚘 πš‹πšŽ. π™Έπš—πšœπš™πšŽπšŒπšπš˜πš›, 𝚒𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 πš˜πš‹πšŸπš’πš˜πšžπšœπš•πš’ πš•πšŽπšŠπš›πš—πš 𝚝𝚘𝚘 πš–πšžπšŒπš‘ πšŠπš‹πš˜πšžπš πš–πšŽ. 𝙸 πšŒπšŠπš—'𝚝 πš‘πšŠπšŸπšŽ πšπš‘πšŠπš. π™½πš˜πš πšŽπšŸπšŽπš— πš’πš— πš–πš’ πšπšŽπšŠπšπš‘."

Who I Am

Just some scrub nerd who happens to RP on this site. While I tend to gravitate more towards building worlds and GMing and all that, I join RPs from time to time as well. I tend to stay in the casual section of the Guild (though I am open to trying other things) and my preferences tend to lean towards slice-of-life RPs and superhero RPs, along with the occasional fandom RP, depending. I enjoy trying new things, though, and I'm willing to hop onboard any genre if I find it appealing.

I consider myself fairly lax and friendly, so if you wanna chat, my PMs are always open.

Where I Am

Currently Running
Fast-paced, fun, vibrant, quasi-anime superhero RP about an organization that employs superpowered people to defend the fictional city of Castleburg, USA.
Currently Accepting! PM me for details if you want to join.

Currently Participating
n/a. Maybe it'll change? ;)


"He's a two-faced bastard of a GM."

"He's American. Enough said"

"He abuses us with lenny faces"

Comment: ( Ν‘Β° ΝœΚ– Ν‘Β°)

"He hates the gays"

"Wait, since you're a hitman, can't you just scan the bar code on the back of your head and just bring your post back?"

"I have never met a more horrible, selfish, ungrateful human than Hitman. I wish I didn't have to live inside his body 24/7 for the rest of my pathetic, meaningless existence."


Most Recent Posts

π™Ύπš™πšŽπš›πšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—: π™³πš›πšŠπšπš˜πš— π™΄πš’πšŽ
π™Ώπš›πš˜πš–πšŽπš—πšŠπšπšŽ π™³πš˜πšœπšœπš’πšŽπš›

π™³πšŠπšπšŽ: 𝟷0/𝟾/𝟸0𝟸𝟷
π™»πš˜πšŒπšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—: π™ΌπšŠπšŒπšŠπš˜ πš‚π™°πš
π™Ώπš›πš˜πš™πšŽπš›πšπš’ 𝚘𝚏 π™Ώπš›πš˜πš–πšŽπš—πšŠπšπšŽ
π™°πšžπšπš‘πš˜πš›: 𝙷.𝙸.𝚁.𝙰.𝙼. (πšˆπš˜πšžπš› π™΅πšŠπš’πšπš‘πšπšžπš• 𝙰.𝙸. π™²πš˜πš–πš™πšŠπš—πš’πš˜πš—!)

More to follow.

π™Ύπš™πšŽπš›πšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—πšœ π™²πšŽπš—πšπšŽπš›, π™Ώπš›πš˜πš–πšŽπš—πšŠπšπšŽ
π™Όπš’πš•πš•πšŠπš›πš π™΅πš’πš•πš•πš–πš˜πš›πšŽ π™·πš’πšπš‘ πš‚πšŒπš‘πš˜πš˜πš•, πš‚πš πš’πš—πšπš˜πš— πšƒπš‡

"Do we have everybody? Excellent. Let's begin the briefing."

Nadia Sokolova was at the head of the conference table in Promenade's Operations Center. The room was abuzz with life. The screens that encircled the room were displaying all kinds of footage from around the world, with agents coming to-and-fro, scribbling on clipboards and carrying binders filled to the brim with papers of all sorts. In the center of the room was a large conference table, and seated at the table was the agents of Promenade, joined by their director, as well as Agent Tom Bates and an unfamiliar face. The mystery man looked even less like a secret agent than the teenagers gathered at the table. He was Asian, middle-aged, and extremely anxious-looking, with beady eyes and trembling hands. He had hastily-combed thin black hair and a pair of large, thick glasses perched on his nose. He sat trembling at the conference table as Agent Stanley walked around the conference table, distributing manila files full of information.

"Your mission today brings you to Macau, a Special Administrative Region of China. Located on an island just south of the province of Guangdong, it is called the Las Vegas of the Oriental world. It is a gambling city, through and through," Nadia explained. "You will be heading to one of the largest casinos in the city- the Red Dragon Macau." A 3D image of a massive casino of gold and red projected onto the center of the table. "A massive casino located right in the center of Macau, the gambling center is run by a group called the Hyut Seng Lung. They are a dangerous criminal enterprise that has grown incredibly wealthy over the course of the last few decades," Nadia said nonchalantly. "They started in the business of drugs and used the money obtained in this business to purchase the Red Dragon Macau, which they have been using to launder their drug money, though admittedly, the casino itself turns a significant profit on its own. Regardless, the Hyut Seng Lung was not of significant concern to the United States government until this past week."

Nadia removed from her file an image of a burning ship and pushed it to the center of the table. "Friday, 10/4. A United States cruiser is ambushed by a large number of masked men while docked in Hong Kong. The ship was transporting a hard drive with important codes for the American naval base at Kanluranin, off the Western coast of the Philippines. Obviously, something of unparalleled value to the US," Nadia explained. "Kanluranin is a key location for the defense of Taiwan and the continued security in the South China Sea, and if the drive were to fall into the hands of an enemy of the US, it would be disastrous. The drive is still in the hands of the Hyut Seng Lung, but thankfully for us, our mole on the inside, Mr. Joseph Lim, has some information for us. Mr. Lim?"

The nervous-looking Asian man looked around tentatively. "Hello, hello," he said quietly, looking at the number of children that was now looking at him. "The, err, the lung are looking to...make money off this. They are holding a private tournament of baccarat for the drive. The CCP is attending, along with other regional warlords. Very dangerous situation. Very risky. But possibly very lucrative. The bid-ins are massive," the man explained, tapping the table nervously, his foot drumming on the ground like a jackhammer. The nerves were clear to see in action. "Scary. Very scary. They are scary men..."

Mr. Lim stared into the distance, and so Tom spoke up, looking at the group as he spoke. "Sending a US diplomat to represent the US would not only be costly and very risky, but it would also be incredibly wounding to national pride and image. Cow-towing to a Chinese triad is not exactly a good look. The United States government has recognized the situation is highly precarious, though, and that it will require an expert, unseen hand to resolve. And that's where you come in. Your mission is to infiltrate the Red Dragon Macau, terminate Frankie Kwan, the head of the syndicate, and recover the hard drive."

Nadia spoke up again, her tone as serious as ever. "This mission will not be as simple as some of your past engagements. The Hyut Seng Lung are heavily armed and heavily prepared, especially with the arrival of a Chinese diplomat in Macau. Security is going to be very tight, and the triad is very protective of their private information, much more so than the average criminal enterprise. Even Promenade does not have access to their floor plans for their VIP levels, where we believe the tournament will be held, and where we believe the drive is being stored. There are cameras everywhere, and the main gambling floors are all insulated in high-tech refracting shards to disrupt cell signals transmitting from those areas." Nadia pulled another file from inside her dossier. "For this mission, we are giving you all cover identities. You are all going to be teenage socialites in Macao, there to celebrate a massive 'birthday bash' for the 18th birthday of one of your friends. We have prepared fake IDs to help preserve your cover identities, along with a pre-prepared field kit for your needs, and HIRAM is doing the finishing touches on an extensive dossier on the Hyut Seng Lung and the information we have available." Nadia looked them over once again, before taking a long and reserved deep breath. "The tournament begins tomorrow, so you have tonight to prepare yourselves and ready the operation."

After saying this, Nadia glanced tentatively over to Tom Bates, who grinned and nodded. Nadia gave a resigned sigh. "Agent Bates has advised me to tell you to keep your workload minimal tonight, and only to passively gain intel as you utilize the hotel's amenities." She pursed her lips. "I would suggest to you not to make a fool out of yourselves or to blow your cover on this first night, though. Fate is resting itself on your shoulders, agents. Do not let it down."

Bates spoke again, a grin on his face. "This way, please. We have some equipment to share with you," he said as he stood from the table. Ben, who had been listening intently to the speech the entire time, hopped up from his chair, snatching the manila folder from the table as he followed the handler out of the room. Bates opened the door to the RND room, a high-tech workstation full of wiring, mechanics, and all sorts of gadgets hanging from the walls and cluttering up on the workstations. In the center of the room was a sleek silver table, and on the table was about a dozen briefcases, each with one of the agents' codenames etched into the side. At one of the workstations was Professor MacMahon, hard at work, with a small orb-like hovering droid floating nearby. The professor quickly turned over as he heard the doors to the room open, smiling giddily as he bounced over to the table with childlike energy. What made the man such a genius with gadgetry was that endless childlike enthusiasm. He was in his 70s, but had the energy of a preteen at Disney World. He laid both his palms on the silver table as HIRAM floated over, hovering behind him.

The professor smiled wickedly. "Howdy, howdy...oh, boy, do I have a lot of stuff for you!" He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "New gadgets that will knock your socks off! First and foremost, the outer layers! I've modified your suits with a carbon fiber mesh. Not quite bulletproof, but bullet resistant for sure. You'll still be hit with quite the impact from the blunt force, which I haven't quite figured out how to mitigate yet, but the suit should be able to prevent the bullet from piercing. At least, the first few rounds. After that, the fibers break pretty easily...the bullets will tear through you like termites through wood. Still working on a fix for that," the professor said. "Also in the mix are multi-purpose decks of cards! I have some razor-sharp throwing cards with identical characteristics to shurikens, as well as listening cards that have microscopic bugs in their core! Oh, and Binx'll like this one..." He removed what appeared to be a deck of cards that was inside a fiberglass case. "Lithium-coated cards. Once removed from the vacuum seal, the outer layer quickly begins to evaporate, exposing the tiny lithium core to oxygen. I would suggest you get out of the way once that one that happens, because you'll see a nice healthy kaboom after that." He chuckled. "And of course, your usual array of gizmos and thingamabobs galore! Take your choice of gadgetry. We have plenty of 'em, after all!"

As MacMahon returned to his tinkering, Ben grabbed his briefcase and laid it down on his worktable. He reached up, grabbing a number of weapons off the wall and stuffing them into the case. Two Nighthawk Customs, equipped with silencers, a modified bullpup rifle, and Ben's custom disassemble-able sniper rifle, which he had affectionately named "Ducky." Ben smirked. "Alright," he said, loading a few more discreet gadgets into the case, closing it, before stepping into one of the several opaque stalls located inside the room. A moment later, Ben stepped out, dressed sharply in a clean black suit. He was no longer Ben McBride- he was now Kingfisher. Well, technically, he was oil heir Johnny Ellison Fuller, but deep down, the Kingfisher was in the building.

Meanwhile, Tom clapped his hands together a few times. "Don't want to rush you guys too much, but the Worm is ready, and we have a limited timeframe to get you into the casino. Also, Foxtrot and Tango wanted to say good luck and goodbye," Tom said with a smirk as the two red foxes entered the room. Ben smiled warmly as he knelt down, scratching Tango under the chin. The foxes were the best little guys ever. Well, they weren't really little, to be fair. In fact, the foxes were quite vicious. Still, they were quite fun to be around, even if just for moral support. Ben gave the fox a boop on the nose before standing up, straightening his tie as he followed Tom out of the room, into another hallway in the massive Operations Center. There, at the end of the hallway, was a massive machine that looked like a gate, covered in thick coils of wires and several large lights. It sparked for a few moments before a bright blue swirl of energy materialized in the center of the gate, swirling mystically like something straight out of Star Trek. Tom grabbed a large backpack that was covered in wires and had a long antenna sticking out the back, tossing it to Ben. "You know what that's for. The portal will send you straight to one of your rooms in the casino. Good luck, stay safe, and have a shred of fun, won'tcha?" Tom laughed, handing Ben two room keys. "Remember, we'll be on the other end at all hours, so don't hesitate to reach out. Good luck again."

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath, before stepping through the portal. It was a strange sensation, using the worm. As he entered the swirling mass of energy, he felt light, impossibly light, like he could float in the clouds. That feather-weight sensation was there for a few seconds, and then all of a sudden Ben was deposited roughly onto a thick red carpet. "Ow," he grunted, struggling to his feet and tossing the Worm backpack to the side of the room, rotating his shoulders as he watched the rest of his teammates be casually deposited in the room. Ben put his suitcase on the carpet, dusting off his suit, as he looked around the suite. It was gorgeous. A large common space, complete with a comfy red sofa, a massive flat-screen TV, and a small aquarium, with two separate bedrooms- two queen-sized beds in each- and a luxury bathroom attached. Promenade had, at the very least, secured for them some vestige of comfort. Ben nodded to himself as he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the two keys. He tossed one to Binx. "For the ladies," he said, before picking the briefcase back up. "We should meet up and look around, like Nadia said. Get familiar with the atmosphere. Y'know."

Ben plopped down on the couch, lowering his suitcase next to it. "I'll take the couch," Ben said resignedly, loosening his tie as he made himself comfortable. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair as he thought of a quick plan. Ben was not a very solitary person, and he had no intentions of walking through the casino alone. He thought for a few moments more before rolling up his sleeve, pressing two fingers to the lens of his AP-Watch. He then opened up his messaging app on the watch, looking through his contacts, and then, very hesitantly, tapped out a quick question:

πš‘πšŽπš’ πšŒπšŠπš›πšŠπš–πšŽπš• 𝚞 πš πšŠπš—πš 𝚝𝚘 πš‘πšŽπš•πš™ πš–πšŽ πš•πš˜πš˜πš” πšŠπš›πš˜πšžπš—πš πšπš‘πšŽ πš™πš•πšŠπšŒπšŽ? πš—πšŽπšŽπš πš‘πšŽπš•πš™ 𝚠/ πš–πš’ πšŒπš‘πš’πš—πšŽπšœπšŽ πš•πš˜πš• πšπš’πšπšžπš›πšŽπš 𝚞 πšŒπš˜πšžπš•πš πš‘πšŽπš•πš™

This text would then be quickly followed by:

π™²π™°πšπ™Όπ™΄π™½ πšœπš‘πš’πš πšœπš˜πš›πš›πš’ πšŠπšžπšπš˜πšŒπš˜πš›πš›πšŽπšŒπš πš‡π™³π™³π™³π™³

And then, finally:

πšŠπš—πš’πš πšŠπš’ πšŠπš—πš’πš πšŠπš’ πš–πšŽπšŽπš πš’πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš•πš•πš πšŠπš’ πš’πš— 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠?

To say Nadia was disappointed in the group was a drastic understatement. "Absolute and total disgrace" was a far more accurate phraseology for the emotions that were plastered on her face. Nadia watched the television screens, visibly fuming, as the exercise continued. As the exercise came to a conclusion, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and watched as the bomb detonated on-screen. It was quite dramatic. As soon as Erik even so much as peeked into the room, the de-weaponized explosive gave a happy chime before beginning to fire paint in every direction. A rainbow of colorants fountained wildly from the machine, covering both Binx and Olly in a vibrant array of wet hues and also blasting Erik with a nice smattering of paint as well. Finally, the device finally powered down, small fumes of smoke rising from the machine after leaving the room totally covered wall-to-wall in the paint. Excess paint pooled at the door, dripping out from the doorway. This would be a bitch to clean, that was for certain.

Nadia briskly turned towards the building, walking there in long strides, pressing a finger to her ear. "HIRAM, terminate the exercise," she said stiffly, and the robot was more than happy to oblige. A shrill shriek echoed through all of the junior agents' earpieces simultaneously, certainly loud enough to give them a headache, before HIRAM's crisp voice sounded through the speakers. "That concludes the exercise. Director Sokolova is en route."

Nadia stepped into the building, walking around its interiors, looking highly unamused. She made her way up to the 2nd floor and folded her arms, tapping her foot against the ground impatiently as she waited for the group to gather. Once they made it, she shook her head once again, her facial features indicating absolute displeasure. "That was as entertaining as it was disgraceful," she finally concluded, her eyes scanning the room coolly. "That being quite a lot. There were a number of serious blunders made here today. If this was not an exercise, it would involve body bags. I have had comrades, of immense natural talent and skill, be defeated and killed by some of the most unassuming of counter-agents. Promenade included. As of recently, your inexperience has been showing, and your talents must be honed and perfected soon, or else, you will suffer in the field. You escaped Timbuktu with all your lives. You might not be so lucky next time."

She let her last phrase sink in for effect, before she coughed into her curled-up fist a few times, for attention. "During this atrocity of an exercise, a situation has developed overseas. Macao. You will be deployed there Monday evening. 5:30 PM sharp. I am working on mission details...along with excuses," Nadia added begrudgingly. She did not like making excuses. Nadia had seduced some of the world's most influential politicians, generals, and even secret agents before, yet she somehow still had trouble convincing a parent that their child would be going on a fun field trip for a few days. She had to start broadening her horizons with these parent excuse thingies. "Our intelligence officers and handlers are currently preparing the case file, but in the meanwhile it is imperative that you be more prepared for this scenario. Practice. Prepare. Satisfy your...teenage urges," she added callously, her eyes vindictively landing on poor Ben before shifting over to Binx and Olly. "We cannot allow any inexperience or individualistic needs to override the success of a mission. Failure in a practice is tolerable. Failure in the field? Instant, often painful, death."

Nadia stood there for a few moments more, thoughtful, before taking a long breath and speaking again. "I will, just this once, tread back on my words and revoke your punishment, on the anticipation that you spend some of your precious weekend getting ready for the mission," she said sarcastically. "And if any of you have anything to say to each other, perhaps now would be a good time to get it out of the way." She coughed again ominously as she turned away, before giving an electrifying glare over her shoulder.

"Oh, and take a shower. For once, you all smell worse than just sweat and hormones," she said, wafting the air away from her nose, as she continued to walk towards the stairs. "The odors here are beyond unpleasant. Eugh."


Currently have a single spot open. Feel free to join the Discord if you'd like to join!

Grace shrugged at Tom's comment as she "This is an international resort. Not many places in Europe with this climate, anyway." She stretched her arms out, as if to catch more rays of sun. "It's probably nothing. In fact, almost definitely nothing. I read over the security procedures that this place has. It's rather in-depth. A lot of identity confirmation and official paperwork required, and they do background checks as well to make sure you are who you say you are. Plus plenty of security on the island. The only way that any villain could possibly be here is if they knew somebody on the inside," Grace explained as she lifted her arm, slicing downward with her fingertip. A shimmering portal opened in front of her. "I left the brochure in the room; we can head there quickly," she said with a wink, and with that, she hopped through the portal.

She landed back in the room softly, before turning back towards Tom as he entered the hut again via the portal. "C'mere, gwiyeoun," she said bashfully, before wrapping her arms tightly around Tom and very nearly pouncing on him. Her lips collided with Tom's as her form pressed against his. She pulled back, her eyes sparkling with joy, her locks of damp violet hair falling messily in her face, her cheeks gently tinged with a faint shade of red blush. "Oh, Tom, jagi" she said lovingly as her hands roamed across his back, pressing her nose to his. She took a deep breath. "I've wanted to say this for a while..." she started diffidently, looking away for a moment, before her eyes focused in on his again. "But I really lo-"


A loud sound, like that of a drill, loudly shrieked out from deep beneath the hut, and the foundations of the building gently shook. It was not enough shaking to concern Grace of the possibility of imminent natural disaster, but it was enough shaking to break the mood for sure. Grace released Tom from her grips, her face rapidly becoming annoyed as she looked at the ground. "Geuliseudoleul wihaeseo!" she hissed, sounding annoyed. "What is this? Maintenance or something? We paid specifically to get away from this type of nonsense-"


Grace's face turned red again, but this time not out of prudeness, but out of pure irritation. "I am going to figure this out this instant. This is unacceptable for a vacation. This is frankly disgraceful on behalf of the resort. How can I reasonably be expected to enjoy quality time with my boyfriend with this cacophony going on? I am going to find whoever is doing this and give them a piece of my mind," she ranted to Tom, as if he was a resort employee that was causing the noise and shaking in the first place. "We are going to go. Right. Now," Grace demanded as she lifted her palm. An orb of purple energy, the same energy that created her portals, formed in her palm. She pointed it downwards and sent the orb into the ground. The orb, like it was water, splashed outwards and formed a portal as it cut into the ground of the hut. The projectile of energy continued to travel through the earth until it reached the other end, forming a matching portal there. Grace frowned as she tapped her foot. "That took longer than I thought it would take..." she muttered

Grace sat down on the bed, putting on a pair of expensive, sporty sneakers that had probably never seen physical activity since they were removed from the display case. "You don't mind going on a quick excursion, right, Tommy? Sorry about all this..." Grace sighed as the drilling noise commenced again. "But I swear I'm going to lose it if I hear that noise again." Grace stood, walking over to the portal. She dipped her toe in, like she was testing the waters of a pool, before hopping into the portal.

Grace landed inside what appeared to be a maintenance office. There were thick metal walls on three of the sides of the room, with a metal grate floor and a large window of glass on one side. Against one of the metal walls was a security station, with a number of monitors depicting a variety of security camera footage. The man at the computer was wearing a red and black uniform with a matching face mask, but thankfully, he was currently asleep. Grace crept over to the window, her eyes widening as she took in what she was. Inside there was a massive open space inside what appeared to be a cavern. Several layers of metal walkways ran around the sides of the room. In the center of the chamber was a massive black pillar with glowing red tubes wrapping around the device. At the top of the pillar was what appeared to be some sort of cryptic MRI machine, albeit one that was jet black and covered in similar red tubes that were pulsing with energy. Patrolling the walkways were a number of guards in matching red/black uniforms.

"This is insane," Grace whispered, turning to Tom with a sense of great urgency on her face. "What is this place? What's going on here? I-" She was cut off by the sounds of footprints coming from nearby, growing louder and louder, coming from behind a nearby steel door. The sounds of jovial chatting between colleagues also grew louder. A disk of purple energy formed in Grace's palm. "This is bad," she whispered to Tom, looking up urgently at him, as the doors opened. Two uniformed guards looked at each other, before quickly lifting their weapons. "Err, freeze, you! You can't be here!"

Meanwhile, well above the mysterious fortress of death, a figure approached the ongoing beach volleyball game. He was an imposing figure, standing at more than 6 feet tall. He had dark skin and was impressively muscled, though most notably, he had what appeared to be tattoos of chalk traced around his body in elaborate artwork. He had dark black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and shimmering olive eyes. He was wearing a pair of light blue board shorts. There was something a bit ominous about him, but first and foremost, the man was certainly a stud.

As the volleyball moved over the net, right before it could hit the sand, the man blasted into action. Moving at breakneck speeds, he was suddenly on the court, and grabbed the volleyball before it hit the ground. He lifted the ball into the air, holding it in his palm. "I believe you aren't supposed to let this hit the ground," he said coyly as he smiled. "I'll give you a pass, though. Sorry for interrupting your game. My name is Yousef." He nodded at the group, his smile having a certain charm to it. "I'm a hero from Egypt...ah, but no need to introduce yourselves. I'm, of course, very familiar with your work." He squinted at Joseph and Chad. "Well, most of you, at any rate. I look forward to getting to know some of you, but I'm also happy to be in the presence of such hero legends. Starbright! We've heard of you around the globe now...oh, and you must be Ms. Jamie Stewart. Quake." He smiled warmly as he approached Jamie. He smelled of expensive cologne. "I've read about you in the papers, but you seem even lovelier in person," he said flritatiously. "I'd love to get to know you better. After this game, perhaps?" He reached into his pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. "It's always good to spend some...quality time on vacations. Well, I best not interrupt your game any longer." He tossed the ball to Joseph. "Enjoy your game."

patti just bcuz u cant handle ur booze doesnt mean the rest of us cant ok stfu

Blake sent another text to the group chat as he absorbed the information that had been divined. He knew that he had seen that mystery girl before, and now he had remembered her from the Gugliano mansion. His interaction had been limited to only a few moments, but in those few moments, the girl had killed the one man that the rest of them combined couldn't keep pinned down. She was certainly dangerous. Blake texted again, alright b careful...looks like something is ab to happen. Blake had sent this because one of the men, a middle-aged balding man with a Dali mustache, had tapped his fork against his cocktail glass repeatedly. Once the room quieted down, the man coughed into his fist before speaking. "Greetings, greetings. As you know, my name is Jim Rockferry, and I'm the president of the Castleburg North Club. I've organized this event today to help rethink how Castleburg conducts organized crime. I'd like to welcome a man that we've all known and hired before. Please welcome our friend, the Black Baron!"

Nearly the entire room cheered, and Blake joined in, clapping his hands together as he focused his eyes on the figure emerging from the crowd. He was an old man. A very old man. He had wrinkled skin and only puffs of white hair remaining, and in his hand was a diamond-studded cane. HE looked sagely around the room before speaking. "Good afternoon, my friends. As you know, I've spent many years of my life working to help bring down heroes. Many, many years. Now, though, my hourglass is running out of sand. My die is cast. Luckily, though, I've found a perfect somebody to help succeed me in this enterprise. Hopefully, she will be the one that helps bring long-lost unity to the different criminal enterprises of Castleburg. She's already proven to me that she deserves the title this past week. Please welcome my successor, the Black Baroness!"

Blake's eyes nearly rocketed out from his sockets as Malady stepped forwards, giving a curtsy, before standing next to the Black Baron, who put a hand on her shoulder. The crowd immediately began to converge onto the teenage girl, and Blake grabbed his phone and sent a text.

wtf wtf wtf what do we doooooooooooooo

He then took a deep breath, grabbed his martini, and downed it all in one sip. He needed it.

Powers nodded, impressed. ”Excellently done," he said as he stepped through the now-melted door. Inside was a long corridor of metal, illuminated with red lighting. Powers folded his arms as he walked down the hallway, mostly unimpeded. There were two guards that were standing in the corridor, but they were no match for the speed and prowess of Powers. In a split second, Powers had grabbed the two guards' heads before they could even realize what was happening, and promptly slammed them together, Three Stooges style. He dropped them to the ground and stepped over their bodies, continuing to make his way through the corridor, which eventually led to another door, protected by some sort of badge reader. Powers did not even need Pandora for this one- he simply wound up and slammed his shoulder directly into the doorway. The door was blasted off its hinges and crushed the unfortunate guards standing behind it to the wall.

Powers entered the room. The room was large and noticeably very cold. Steel floors and steel walls were lined with tons of computer servers. Computer towers full of blinking lights shimmer down on the duo as they entered. Powers crackled his knuckles. ”If I'm not mistaken, back in your day, they didn't quite have this type of tech. I will work on disabling it. If you could deal with the guards that will be arriving any moment now." As Powers made his way over to one of the server towers, as if on cue, three armed guards stormed the room, barking orders at each other. They then raised their weapons, scanning the large server room for any signs of life, as more reinforcements stormed towards the infiltrated room.

Ben was just about to crawl into the vents when heard Carmen yell β€œWait!” and felt a tug at his pant leg. He looked down at Carmen, lowering his hands from the vent as he listened. β€œI didn’t disagree, did I? I’ll go. It’s a good idea, and… well, I am shorter than you,” she joked. Ben gave a small nod as Carmen continued, β€œYou’ll be better down here than I will.” And with that, Carmen yanked Ben off the desk. Ben teetered at the edge of the desk before hopping off, landing on the carpet. He shrugged. ”Alright, alright. Be careful up there,” he said to her. He watched the Colombian girl slither into the vent. He stood there quietly for a few moments, before he suddenly realized he was staring. Oh, God. His face turned a bright scarlet and he quickly looked away, diverting his attention towards a nice speck of dust on the floor instead. It was this puberty stuff kicking into high gear again.

Ben ignored the fluttering feeling in his chest as he brought a finger to his earpiece. ”Gotcha, Carm-...Agent Babel. See if you can find any info on where any of the other team is at,” he said into the earpiece as he turned around, only to realize he was staring down Alice, who was aiming an arrow directly at him. ”Oh, fuck,” he said, his voice still transmitting to the rest of his team, as the arrow launched through the air. Ben was fast on his feet, very much so, but he was not fast enough to dodge a speeding arrow. It hit him squarely in the chest, sending multicolored paint all over his vest, pant legs, and leaving a few splatters on his face, while also throwing him back into the wall with a loud thunk. His head collided with the drywall, leaving a nice dent there. His earpiece was launched from his ear, falling a few feet away from him, nearly invisible on the carpet. Ben slid onto his butt as his feet gave way. His eyes were bolted shut, his head rested against the wall. That hurt.

Ben was not the type to give up easily, and it seemed as though he wouldn't go down without a fight. His eyes still shut, he patted at his belt, trying to grab his weapon and take this ambushing woman down with him. His fingers loosely grabbed the holster of his pistol, but they didn't form a grip. If he pulled his weapon, Alice could hit him with another arrow, and if she aimed anywhere outside of his chest, she could probably do even more damage. Ben's face heated up, his cheeks hot and bright red, humiliation clear on his expression, but he didn't fight back, instead just teetering over, laying his head down on the carpet. ”Fuckin' cheater...” he gasped quietly, but outside of that, Kingfisher remained mostly passive, though the embarrassment at being taken out so easily was clear on his face. He wiped some green paint from his face as he grimaced at the thought of it all. He had let his team down, that was for sure. Hopefully, they would forgive him for falling prey so easily...

Meanwhile, in the vents, only shortly after Ben disconnected from the communications, a small red dot began to pulse deep in the vent, about 4 or 5 meters ahead of Carmen. The dot was on top of a Claymore-like explosive, a black box sitting in the middle of the vent, facing Carmen. As Carmen got just an inch closer, the bomb detected the girl and promptly exploded with a loud bang that resonated throughout the facility. Tiny balls of condensed paint were blasted out from the bomb, covering Carmen in a hefty coating of paint as the entire vent shook uncertainly. Thankfully, it did not collapse, but Carmen's hopes of moving through the vents unnoticed had most definitely imploded.

Grace nodded sympathetically. "Saving the city on a daily basis does tend to be rather time-consuming," she agreed, nodding politely at Tom's answers. "I do love Zoe Kravitz as Catwoman..." Grace said with a nod as she tapped her chin, thinking of her own answers. "Let's see...Parasite, the original Korean one, obviously...and then bibimbap, strawberry, and herons. Herons are quite nice. So majestic...oh, the masseuse is here. Grace gave Tom another warm smile before rolling onto the massage bed. "This better be worth the money..."

One intensely relaxing massage therapy later, Grace stepped out of the room with a bright smile on her face. "So relaxing..." she said warmly as she wrapped an arm around Tom's waist. "It feels much better when you get to let everything go, you know...thank you, jagi," she whispered to him as she cuddled her head against his side. Their brief moment of intimacy was interrupted, however, by a couple that approached them.

The two individuals looked like movie stars, with a certain glitz and glamour and raw beauty that seemingly could only be attained by the rich and famous. The man was tall, with slicked-back black hair and a thick beard of hair. He was huge, maybe 6'5" or 6'6", and muscled like a bodybuilder, with dark brown eyes to match. He was wearing a pair of swim trunks that were covered in little seashells. The woman was possibly a goddess come to life, with longs locks of flowing cinnamon-colored hair and flawless tanned skin. She was wearing a pair of designer shades and a crimson bikini that accentuated an hourglass figure. They were, in short, gorgeous. The woman spoke to the two of them, her voice sharp and boisterous, her pristine fingers lowering her shades to reveal mocha-colored eyes. "Oh. My. Goodness. Spacewalker? Bypass? Wow! I didn't know HERO came to this resort!"

Grace was somewhat peeved for her personal moment to be interrupted by these two strangers, but she pulled away from Tom somewhat, addressing the couple with a polite nod. "Yes, that's us...and you are?" she asked, partly flattered but partly wary.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce us! I'm Andromeda, and this is Nikolai. We're heroes from ATHENA. The Greek hero agency, number 18 in the world!" She smiled proudly, a hint of arrogance on her face, but she spoke more than cordially to the two. "I have to say, I am such a fan of you two. Your powers are so incredible! And I didn't realize you two were together..." She held a hand over her mouth, as if this was a totally shocking revelation. "Wow. I totally ship it. You two are officially my new favorites. I used to close with Seraph, but, you know, the whole coup d'etat thing. Shows how people can really be somebody totally different deep-down, right? Such a shocker...anyway, it's so incredible to be able to speak to you two and see you here at this resort! Such a wonderful coincidence...oh, and by the way, Bypass, that bathing suit looks incredible. Seriously."

Grace blushed, enjoying the flattery immensely. "Oh, thank you, thank you, I was trying to try something different from the usual style, you know!"

"You look great. Suits you perfectly." Andromeda gave another facetious giggle. "You two should come visit us!" She held up her key ring, which had a large stingray on it. "Manta Ray Luxury Hut. It's right down the way here, you can't miss it. We have a lot to talk about...oh, and maybe we could play some doubles tennis or something! Well, see you!" Andromeda gave the group a wave before walking off. Nikolai, who didn't make a sound other than a grunt, followed her. Grace turned to look at Tom. "We should go! They seem nice. And cool. And awesome. We're definitely going."

"Alright, guys, let's go over the plan again..."

The entire mob-infiltration group was crammed into a warehouse storage bay near the docks. Blake, after some preparation and help from Christina and Zoe, looked totally different from usual. His usual spiky hair was, after hours of combing, no longer spiky for once. His scarlet hair had been straightened and pulled back, falling down to the nape of his neck. He was wearing a black formal suit and crimson tie with a black fedora perched on his head. A revolver was clipped to his belt, though he had no intention of actually using it. In his breast pocket was a fake ID for "Niall Fitzpatrick," a talented rookie Irish mobster. "We walk up to the ship with the hostages in tow." Blake gestured to the fake hostages, who were both handcuffed in a pair of magician's handcuffs that Blake had found in his bedroom. "We bring them onboard and snoop around. Hopefully, Black Baron is lured out by the promise of free kills. But! We don't let him kill them. Instead, we isolate Baron, take him out, and then call Christina to evacuate us." Blake smiled confidently. "Perfect plan! Alright, let's go, hostages. I'm gonna probably say some mean things about you guys, but I totally don't mean them. OK? Ok. Let's do it."

Blake grabbed Rumi by the collar and practically dragged him out of the warehouse. Outside, there was a rather large gathering of all sorts of criminals. Yakuza, triads, Irish mobsters, Italian mafiosos, superhero hunters, drug dealers, and more. It would've been a beautiful multicultural event, had it not been a gathering of Castleburg's finest criminals. Sitting on the shore was a massive riverboat, the size of a cruise ship, with bright orange-and-green colors glistening in the sunlight. "OI!" Blake shouted, guiding one of the hostages along. "I found'a 'ero snoopin arooehnd de dahckyards! we gahtta make 'im pay! he yelled. His Irish brogue was modestly more convincing than earlier, and while he did sound precisely like the Lucky Charms leprechaun and not an actual person, it was close enough for the man guarding the boat ramp. Criminals, as it happened, were not very smart.

β€œa 'ero, 'oehh? we ooehght to joehst feed 'im to de feshes befahre de rest o' 'is 'ero friends fend oehs!”

Blake had to hold back a chuckle. This man’s voice could not have been more comedic He took a deep breath before continuing with the plan. I gaht a better idea. We should keep 'im as a 'ahstage! Gives oehs an advantage if 'eroes do manage to track β€˜oehs down," Blake responded, and the man seemed to agree. The poor goon was even dumber than Blake. That was a very sad thing to be. β€œAlright, alright, you gaht a point dere, mate. Leave 'im in the boiler room, and make sure 'e doesn't roehn ahff. We'll deal wit 'im later. You gaht a tecket?”

"Right β€˜ere,” Blake said, flicking the forged pass out of his pocket. The guard gave a nod. β€œRight this way, mate. Welcome aboard, Niall,” he said, and Blake nodded in response, dragging Rumi along onto the river boat. It was a rather marvelous ship, decorated like the Titanic, with a lovely 1920s theme onboard. Carpets, chandeliers, lovely ballrooms, all filled with the most dastardly criminals in Castleburg. Blake practically carried Rumi along into the boiler room. "Alright, man, here’s the key. If the Baron shows up, just call me. Or, you know, take him out yourself. Whatever." Blake looked down at his watch. "The ship takes off in a few minutes, so the rest of them should be boarding soon. I’m going to go get wasted now. See ya!" Blake tossed a cell phone and a key at Rumi before ducking out of the (very smelly) boiler room. "Have fun with your hacking! " Blake called out before ducking out of the room and making his way back towards the actual gathering.

Blake made his way over to the bar, of course, getting a martini and looking around the room as he sipped the drink. Nobody that looked like the Baron was in sight. Blake did notice, however, somebody that seemed vaguely familiar in the crowd. A girl with long tresses of black hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Patricia, with vampiric pale skin. She dressed in a sparkly burgundy dress and was chatting with one of the Irish mobsters. Blake thought for a moment and then shrugged. Deja vu, maybe.

He texted the group on his phone. No sign of Black Baron. Im at the bar. Ideas?

”Excellent. Then let’s not waste too much more time," Powers said as he simultaneously sank his ball into the final peg. "As it happens, this croquet area is near the edge of the resort’s property. According to my map, there should be a cave just due east of this area." Powers trotted briskly in that direction, his mallet slung over his shoulder, and sure enough, in the horizon, a cave located right along the shore came into view. Standing in front of the cave was a group of suspiciously-dressed men, all wearing uniforms of red and black and wearing ominous black face masks. They were all armed, but not holding their weapons. Clearly, they were unprepared.

Powers held a hand over his eyes to block the sun as he looked. "It seems as though those gentlemen are guarding a number of crates. I think it’s best we give them a visit.” Powers pointed at a nearby sniper post. "I’ll deal with the thugs. You take care of that fellow, if you could.” With that, Powers jogged over towards the group of men, croquet mallet still in hand.

One of the men saw the Director and blinked beneath the mask. β€œSir, this is a restricted area, I’m going to have to ask you to- AIEEE!” He didn’t even finish his sentence before Powers had slammed him with the mallet right in the stomach, launching him into the air before he splashed into the water. Powers spun around, taking down two more with a well-aimed mallet strike, before throwing the hammer like a javelin, launching it right into the cranium of one of the men with a deafening crack. The last goon had grabbed his gun and squeezed off a few rounds, but Powers shrugged off the bullets like one would angry mosquitos, before slapping the thug right across the face. The goon crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

”That’s done with,” Powers said, reaching down and removing the top of one of the boxes. He nodded slowly. "Parts,” he muttered, taking out a few of the pieces. "Lots of spare parts. Now, what could they be doing with...nuts and bolts?”

Powers contemplated as he waited for Pandora to return. He scooped one of the guard’s rifles. ”I expect that the entrance to their hideout would be through this cave,” he said, stepping inside. Deep inside the cave, a red glow was pulsing from behind a pair of thick, titanium doors. Powers turned towards Pandora. "If you may,” Powers said, gesturing towards the doors.

Ben listened to Olly lay out the plan for their training excursion. It was not a terrible plan. He had to admit, he would've much rather have been the person on the crane than inside the building, but overall, it was a thought-out plan. Olly was right- this was not a group that they would win against if they charged at each other full-on. Binx was a menace with her explosives. Alice was crafty and dangerous with an advantage. Adam was practically a troll from Lord of the Rings. And Bug...Emily was somehow scarier than the rest. If there was anything inside that building that had a drop of voltage in it, it would all be over. Still, Ben was quite confident in his team. They were, for the most part, the listeners and rational thinkers of the group. That was probably why they were the defusers and the others were the bomb planters, anyway. ”Sounds like a plan. Let's just all be very careful, alright? Outside of the paint cleaning, it hurts like hell. Don't want any of y'all to go through that. Hurts like a bitch.”

He looked at the group of so-called "distractors." Olly was pretty good at distracting, with his skillset and all, and he was a decent shot on top of that. Carmen...was pretty much useless here. Not to say she was useless in general! She was definitely not at all. But, for this particular combat exercise, she was rather useless. Ben had seen Carmen in the practice range at the HQ...truth be told, he was more worried for his teammates being hit by stray paintballs than he was for the opposition. Still, Ben put on his confident smile as he approached them. ”Alright, let's get ready. Olly, you might want to head for that IT room. I'd be damn surprised if Em isn't holed up in there...” Ben noted, looking down at his AP-Watch and speeding through the small report HIRAM had compiled for them. ”Keep her busy. I'll distract the others. should probably come with me.” Ben gave a (somewhat forced) kind smile. ”Don't want you getting caught out by one of them and getting shot. Erik, don't miss, or I kick your ass!” Ben added, calling out to the crane, before re-adjusting his focus on the building.

Nadia, who had been looking at her watch for the past few minutes, looked up at them. "That is time. Move in. Best of luck," she said, before looking down at her phone to check something out.

Ben moved forwards quickly, one of his chosen pistols holstered at his waist and still spinning around his finger. He tightened his grip on the weapon as he crept over to the building. Most of the windows were either shattered or removed, which was a good sign for the group's sniper. Still, there were a few glass panes and other walls to block Erik's shot. Ben took a mental note to avoid standing near them as he carefully crept through an open window, landing quietly inside the building. The first floor, as the report had noted, looked fairly abandoned. Mostly pillars and the like. Ben's eyes swept the vicinity, searching for any signs of life, as he shimmied behind a concrete column. He pressed a finger to his earpiece. ”Kingfisher here. No signs of life where I'm at.” He peered around his cover again, noticing something. A blinking red dot in the distance. Not good. ”They got the cameras online. Be careful,” he noted, aiming his pistol out from behind the pillar, and fired a round. A gentle "pop" sounded out, not too loud but not silent for sure, and hit the security camera square on the lens, covering the aperture in pink paint. Ben retracted the gun, turning and firing again. Another camera was splattered in paint soon after. ”Knocked two down. Keep your eyes out,” Ben said as he stepped out, cautiously moving forwards.

He positioned himself behind another stone pillar at the stairwell. ”Binx left us some presents,” Ben said into the comms, picking up a pebble from the ground and tossing it at the bomb. A volcano of paint quickly erupted from the modified explosive, sending a myriad of rainbows splattering all across the stairwell, as the sound of the explosion echoed through the building. It was fairly loud. ”Nice try, Binx,” Ben whispered to himself as he quickly crept over to the staircase, hopping up two at a time. There would be paint on his shoes, and there would probably be questions, but that wasn't the prime concern right now. If they lost, there would be a lot more paint everywhere.

Ben knew that, odds are, there would be angry people with paintball guns heading their way shortly, so as soon as he got up the stairs he quickly sought cover, and he found it. A nice cubicle up against the wall. Ben quickly moved inside the cubicle, pressing his back against the cubicle wall, until he saw something perfect. ”Air vent!” he said quietly but excitedly as he hopped onto the desk, reaching up to the ceiling-mounted vent. He had to stand on his tip-toes, but he managed to reach the grate, giving it a wiggle. It came off without a hitch, nails popping right out, and Ben slowly lowered it, being careful not to drop it, before hopping down to the ground himself. ”Carm, this is can climb right in and head around the whole floor from above!” Ben said excitedly. ”Just watch out for any rats or loose screws.”

Ben's face quickly scrunched up with guilt, however, as he shoved a hand into his pocket. ”I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. Just an idea. I mean, I can go, it's just, you know, Nadia made me go through air vents all the time on missions. Because of the height thing,” Ben said uncomfortably. ”But I don't want to volunteer you, y'know...I'll do it, actually,” Ben said quickly, starting to step onto the desk and head into the vents. ”Keep an eye out for traps, I guess.”

Meanwhile, Nadia was glaring at her phone "The audacity..." she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her mobile device. Kem ona sebya vozomnila? Neveroyatno... she added in Russian. "Hiram, get her off my phone. I leave my hotspot on for one second, and she tries to leap her way into classified intel! Shut her down, immediately," she commanded, and the robot helper obliged.

Back inside the building, Bug's computer screen would flash blue, as Hiram's voice (very loudly) filled the entire room and then some, blaring out of the speakers at full blast. "I'm terribly sorry, agent, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to access the Director's phone," HIRAM said apologetically. "If you continue trying to access the Internet, I will have to shut you down. Again, sorry about all that! But rules are rules. No Internet for you. Oh, dear, I'm not giving away your location, am I?"

Nadia, meanwhile, looked up from her phone to see another agent arrive. Yuto Shitnaga, fashionably late. What a surprise. Luckily for him, Nadia hadn't put him in the assignment. In part because, as the driver, she couldn't fault him too heavily for the failure of the Timbuktu mission. Also, in part, because she knew that the Japanese agent could not aim a weapon to save his life, and that forcing him into the assignment would only be bad for him, his team, and for Nadia to watch. Nadia instead just glared at the agent silently, before accepting the bottle of iced coffee. She removed a switchblade from her jacket pocket and flicked out the knife, using the blade to pop the top of the bottle. She took a long gulp, before shaking her head. "Not dark enough," she noted, flicking the blade away and stuffing it back in its spot. "You are free to watch," she added after a moment of somewhat awkward silence, tapping a button on her phone. An image of all the security cameras (most of them; some were covered in paint) appeared on a TV screen Nadia had wheeled out from the van. "I have a feeling things are about to get...interesting. In a good and bad way."

"I can't believe this shit..."

Dakota was currently standing outside of Arken's car, leaning against a streetlamp. Between her index and middle fingers was a lit cigarette, and smoke cascaded from her lips almost elegantly as it wafted into the night sky. Dakota had sworn that she would behave, but she had been standing out here in the night for hours. Hours. This was exhausting, and entirely unnecessary. As Dakota had predicted before they had gotten to the cemetery, there would be nobody there, and, surprise surprise, she was right. All a massive let-down. Dakota pressed the cigarette to her lips again, taking another long, frustrated drag. She was a night owl, true, but being a night owl generally meant doing something fun, not sitting in Arken's car for hours watching some depressed grandmas enter and exit the graveyard to mourn their poor dead husbands.

Dakota shook her head. She should've spoken up earlier, when the plan was being formulated, and actually spoken her mind, but she was far too busy stuffing her face with pizza when that was all going down, not actually paying attention. If she had known that this would be what the witchlings of the Sisters of the Dying Branch had come up with, she would definitely have shut it down hen and there. Still, no use crying over spilled milk. Thankfully, it seemed as though 2 A.M. was almost upon them, which meant that they would finally go back to the motel and call this whole stupid operation quits.

However, as the hour came, Dakota finally saw something. A flash. And then another. A total of six flashes, right by the cemetery gate. Dakota knelt down, taking cover on the side of Arken's car, peeking her eyes over the hood of the vehicle. Three of the figures had hopped the fence, and the other three lingered. These were either the most pyrotechnically-gifted graverobbers in history, or, more likely, these were the vampires. Dakota felt the adrenaline rush through her as she reached behind her back, pulling, from an old leather holster, her gun. It was a weapon that was special for her- a Ruger Blackhawk, an old 50s revolver, with the initials "DCL" engraved into the barrel. It was a gift from her father, and while it was certainly an interesting gift, it was one of great sentimental value to Dakota. Outside of being a sweet reminder of her dad, the weapon was also practical- her father had put several enchantments on the weapon, and it was loaded with 6 thick .45 silver bullets. Any vampire on the receiving end had better say their prayers. Dakota looked over the top of the vehicle again, thinking. She would prefer to deal with the vampires with magic instead of with bullets, but at the moment, it seemed neither would be the case. Dakota was positive the vampires were looking at her, and so instead of acting, she waited for a few moments, for the vampires to turn away, before she struck.

That was, until, she heard the scream.

Dakota was not particularly well-versed in the screams of her friends, but she was fairly certain it was one of the girls (Caleb did seem like a pitchy screamer, though, so not to rule him out yet). Regardless, that was bad. Somehow, their cover and been blown, and they needed help fast. Iris, however, being even less subtle than Dakota, decided to just run at them. The vampires turned to face her as Dakota's mind raced. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." she muttered, fiddling with her knife. She hadn't exactly done too much research on the likes and dislikes of vampires, but it was fairly common knowledge that fire and vampires did not mix. Well, Dakota did happen to have a very small fire on her. All she needed was a little bit of power. And so, Dakota snatched her keychain from her belt, flicking open the tiny Swiss Army Knife attached on it, and dragged the knife along her hand, from her pinky diagonally across to her thumb. She winced and bit her lip to stop from crying out as she made the cut, and snatched the half-dead cigarette from the ground. Blood splattered onto the cigarette, dying it a maroon color, the ember at its tip still glowing as bright as ever. She took a deep breath as she imbued her magic into the cigarette. Alayna would've been much, much better at this, but unfortunately, Alayna was busy getting nibbled right now, and so Dakota had to make do. She wasn't exactly an elementalist, but she had doled out a non-insignificant amount of blood to make this worse. "Get back!" Dakota yelled, before she threw the cigarette with a powerful flick, right at the vampires.

It was as though she had thrown a Molotov cocktail, almost. A flower of crimson fire erupted from the cigarette, brightly spreading as Dakota's makeshift curse-bomb blossomed into a brilliant flame. The remains of the cigarette hit the ground, with burgundy-colored smoke rising from the charred tube like a flare. Dakota staggered out from behind the vehicle, her gun back in its holster, one hand clasped tightly over the one she had cut. "How's that for a sunburn? Anyway, let's go already. I'm not sure if that did them in or not, but either way, we have people to save." Dakota looked down at her hand. She was bleeding pretty badly, blood dripping from beneath her clasped hand. "And does anybody have a Band-Aid? Last thing we need is for Callie to puke herself again in the middle of a fight."

Jean-Luc stuck out like a sore thumb. His clothes, his car, everything; it was all incredibly out-of-place in this shantytown of a village. Jean-Luc gave a somewhat dejected sigh as he parked his car next to the Williamson Inn, a building so derelict it looked haunted. Ghosts might be a larger concern than vampires at this rate. Jean-Luc reached into his jacket pocket, removing a small bottle of hand sanitizer gel from his pocket, and squeezing some into his hands. He rubbed his hands vigorously as he made his way into the inn. He triple-checked to make sure his car was locked before entering the building.

"Ugh," were the words that managed to escape his mouth once he entered the room. It was...beyond disappointing. Jean-Luc's immediate instinct was to blame the Coven, but it wasn't really the Coven's fault, nor the town's fault, that vampires had decided to set-up shop in the middle of this hellhole. These sentiments didn't exactly make Jean-Luc feel better, but it was what it was. Jean-Luc hefted his bags over onto the bed, took one look at the sheets, and then decided he couldn't possibly fare worse on the pull-out couch. He laid his luggage down there, removing two bottles of Febreeze from inside. A couple minutes later, the boy's room would smell like roses. It still looked disgusting, of coarse, but at least it didn't stink of mildew. Jean-Luc heard one of the girls, Rowan, mention something about meeting in their room, and so he went off, though he made sure to take a bottle of Febreeze with him.

Jean-Luc spritzed a few times as he entered the room, listening to what Rowan had to say. For somebody he had pinned as meek, she was surprisingly decisive. It was nice to hear a voice of reason in a group that tended to lack some. Jean-Luc had to thank his lucky stars that some of the others hadn't been assigned to his group. Namely, Calypso Barnes, Caleb Bishop, and Dakota Lawson. The Three Stooges of bad decision-making. Still, his good impression of Rowan wouldn't stop him from ripping apart her plans in typical fashion.

"I disagree entirely. Vampires do not operate during the day. As you may know, they are extremely vulnerable to the sunlight. As such, we will not be able to get much done after the sun rises tomorrow." Jean-Luc rubbed his hands together, working in some Purell. He felt the need to stay sanitized at all times in this ruinous excuse for an inn. "That being said, you are correct in your assertion that some of us may need rest. It would be unfortunate if one of you were to die because of sleep deprivation. However, I suggest that at least some of us journey out to at least taking notes of suspicious, perhaps vampire-related activities. The rest should bunker up and fortify the area with some sort of spellwork. I trust you're capable of at least the most juvenile of magic, being fully-fledged witches now connected to the wellspring."

Jean-Luc stepped out. "If you'd like to come with me on a tour of the town, meet me at my car. I have my own ways of disguising myself and my vehicle. Ways that don't involve hopscotch rituals," he said derisively, before stepping out of the motel room. God, this place smelled.

π™Ύπš™πšŽπš›πšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—: π™²πš˜πš πš‹πš˜πš’πšœ πšŠπš—πš π™Έπš—πšπš’πšŠπš—πšœ
π™Ώπš›πš˜πš–πšŽπš—πšŠπšπšŽ π™³πš˜πšœπšœπš’πšŽπš›

π™³πšŠπšπšŽ: 𝟷0/5/𝟸0𝟸𝟷
π™»πš˜πšŒπšŠπšπš’πš˜πš—: πš‚πš πš’πš—πšπš˜πš—, πšƒπšŽπš‘πšŠπšœ
π™Ώπš›πš˜πš™πšŽπš›πšπš’ 𝚘𝚏 π™Ώπš›πš˜πš–πšŽπš—πšŠπšπšŽ
π™°πšžπšπš‘πš˜πš›: 𝙷.𝙸.𝚁.𝙰.𝙼. (πšˆπš˜πšžπš› π™΅πšŠπš’πšπš‘πšπšžπš• 𝙰.𝙸. π™²πš˜πš–πš™πšŠπš—πš’πš˜πš—!)

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