Hound55

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

Banana Hammocks alone gets you a good chance at acceptance.

@Lord Wraith

Banana hammocks, eh...

Camp Athens - Closed

Baxter recognised the "brow furrow of confusion" which usually occured whenever people happened to be paying attention as words fell out of his mouth, and was pleased. Not so much because he was happy to confuse, he didn't actually make that connection to the facial expression, but he did like that it meant that people were actually paying attention to him.

His vague smile broadened.

"Sorry to say, but there is no party at the arena." Crestfallen! The broadened vague smile dropped under weight of colossal disappointment.

"Today is training day,"

"What, like Denzel?"

Baxter thought back to a room filled with the haze of smoke. A movie playing on the television many years ago, the residue and ash of a non-vine grown dried plant covering evey surface, with pipes and a soda bottle home-experiment adorning tables.

"I'm the zig-zag man. Who the fuck are you?" He recalled. "King Kong ain't got shit on me!"

"...and while some like me are done for the day. There are still some who had to redo the course, and you might be able to catch River, our leader, still there at the arena."

Baxter didn't remember anything about a leader. Or a vote for a leader. Or a coronation to crown a leader.

And this was the first he'd heard of a 'River'.

'River'. Strange new leaders. In a weird community way off in the wilderness. He hadn't wound up in one of those cults he'd seen on the news, had he?

He thought back on the previous night and was relieved he didn't recall any paper cups, and was further relieved when he recalled that he was the one who'd been pouring the drinks then as well. And he was pretty sure he wasn't a cult leader. Probably. He wasn't a cult leader, right?

It would answer a lot of strange questions angry authority figures seemed to want to chase him down about though.

"By the way, is your name Baxter?"

"Why, yes! Bax. Baxter Marsh." His crooked vague grin returned, cracking its way across his face. "Charmed to meet you, too!" He extended a hand in warm greeting, having not been provided with a name.

"So should I--? Go to the arena? Or should I very much NOT go to the arena? And what are we training in? I didn't know this place had a football team or that participation was compulsory."

"I can't purport to being particularly good at it, myself. A looooot of lunchtimes last against the wall waiting to be picked." He explained. Before holding out a hand to hold back his new compatriot's response, as he turned up the alcohol content in his blood with the other hand and his mind's eye, flushing the unpleasant memory away, his grin widening significantly as it dreamily floated way from the foreshore of his mind.

^{interactions ....|.... Leo - @Theyra............... mentions ....|.... Nil ............... collabs ....|.... Nil}

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

"Josie Tatl. Tatl-tales."

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

Jalen looks away and has one hand in the huddle as the coach gives his final piece. The five break and he’s gazing up into the rafters.

10 12 15 15 19 22 24 33 - 613

‘You bring a ring to this city, you go up in the rafters.’ He thought to himself.

He eyed the 33 again. ‘Hell, Patrick Ewing couldn’t even do that.’

‘New York’s a big city. Big and so damn starved for success, that they’re itching to idolise anyone who can get them to the mountaintop. Even if it’s only once.’

He stood next to a man with almost a foot of height on him - they shared a jersey color but not much beyond - as the inbound man waited to get the ball from the ref.

6’6” Mikal Bridges kept trying to draw eye contact from him. Wide grin on his face. The Knicks switched the longer defender onto him out of the timeout for the last possession.

Jalen glanced again to the ceiling, and the massive Madison Square Garden scoreboard, his heart rate barely bumping above resting rate.

Jazz 122 – Knicks 124

In the bonus. Any foul would send him to the line. Bridges only had 3 fouls to his name. Eleven seconds.

‘Alright… Now we wake up...’

“Hey Mikal… You know what’s comin’, right?”

Somehow Mikal Bridges’ already wide smile seemed to grow beyond all plasticity. Cheshire Cat levels. He started to nod and lock in.

‘Good. Hate for anyone to think I’m not being guarded by anyone worth shit when this hits Sportscenter.’

Whistle blows. Ball goes to the inbound man. Jalen’s massive teammate pivots and sets a screen which everyone in the building knew was coming, as Daniels curls on the pick to receive the pass on the wing.

Smaller man guarded by bigger man. Bridges' arms span long. Like his namesake, long.

The big man waddles out to set another screen, Jalen indicates with his head to the left.

Bridges sees the pick and plays well under, and Jalen’s grin flashes teeth.

‘Too early for the threeball. They’d get another possession for the win.’

Jalen steps through to the left, and times a crossover perfectly as Bridges comes under. Slashing back to the middle of the court. Screenman rolls and takes Bridges with him. Washed away Bridges.

Big man help defence comes, but that’s inconsequential. Too deep to do anything and not what he’s waiting on. Daniels creates more space with an inside-out dribble going right, past the nail.

‘C’mon, man. Bite…’

He feels pressure come from the far man, and he’s satisfied he got what he wanted.

Stepback, with the money middy on his mind.

Until it wasn’t. No look pass to the corner where the far-man help defender just came from.

Wide open. Corner three. His wingman shoots this shot literally hundreds of times a day.

The pass is perfect. Straight to the fingers of his off hand. Hits him in rhythm on the spot-up.

With two seconds. He hits this the horn goes, there’s no reply. Perfect to the second.

Threeball goes up. Jalen watches as the crowd members behind the backboard who weren’t already on their feet, rise in anticipation.

It finds iron. The shot clangs off. The backboard glows red and the horn sounds.

A face which seconds ago was aimed at the rafters, couldn't lift itself from the floor. Hands on hips to complete the barely disguised visage of disgust and disappointment.

---

"C'mon Rook, you ready to go?" Jalen stood outside the lockerroom after his post-game press conference duties, waiting on his night's babysitting duties.

"Yeah, hold up man! Don't go, I'm coming!" His voice echoed out, making its appearance before Lewis Ward himself did.

In full black-tie, formal suit attire.

"Whatchu... think we're goin' to a Nation of Islam event or somethin'?

"Is that-- Is that what you're wearing?"

Jalen was dressed in what appeared to be pristine streetware attire.

"Yeah. Course. This isn't a gala event. These people - cultural eliiiites - didn't work their asses off three-sixty five days a year to have to go black tie formal at a New Years func, Rook." Jalen overanunciated the 'elites'.

"I-- didn't bring any other clothes."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. They'll think I put you up to it. They'll think I'm hilarious. Now move your ass. I'm not bein' late to this."

"You two coming?!" Echoed a voice from further down the tunnel.

"Yeah, Cas'. We comin'."

---

The three walked through the bitter chill of the Manhattan streets.

"We couldn't get like a car, or somethin'?" the younger man asked, with exposure to the sting of hypothetical eyes biting harsher than the bitter wind.

"In New Year's traffic? In Manhattan?"

"Hell no. I ain't missin' none of this, cos your dumb ass is getting precious about your maitre D fit."

"Jalen..? Jalen is that you?!"

"_{^{Shiiiiiiiit...}} Heeeeey Gail. 'Sup? What are you doin' in New York?"

...All dressed up for a party. Alone. On the street between MSG and the Marquee...

"I was with my girls, we were going to catch a Broadway show before the big ball drop. But they screwed up and were one ticket short. What are you doing out here?"

Jalen did the calculations on how far Broadway was from here, and the odds that she'd been the one left without a ticket, within an undisclosed sized group. The story didn't pass his bullshit detector.

More likely someone had let it slip on social media that he'd be...

"And who's this?"

"Rook, Gail. Gail, Rook." His brow dropped into a half scowl looking at his teammate, skeptical of his social media accounts and Gail's presence.

"I'm Lewis Ward. I play with--"

"She knows." Jalen snaps, unable and uncaring about masking his irritation.

"So where are you all going?"

Cas' took his lead from Jalen's expression. He didn't believe her presence here was a coincidence, and was getting frustrated with the delay. His business was in recognising Jalen's thought and desires and ensuring his interests before a word was passed.

"The Marquee Skydeck. New Year's party. Jalen scored some passes."

He left the number of passes vague, for Jalen's discretion. He hadn't told her anything he was pretty sure his friend and client had already thought she knew. He could also sense his impatience. He'd leave it up to him, just how far he was willing to go with that impatience.

Gail brightened at the revelation.

"Oh wow. The Tremayne party?"

Jalen's irritation was piqued. None of this was coincidence, he was sure of it. 'The Tremayne party'? He's a big deal... but not in her circles. And certainly not enough to know by the location. Unless, of course, she'd done her homework.

The pretense was wasting his time. His effort. His energy. Above all, his patience. He spared Casper a knowing look - the two were on the same wavelength.

"I got a spare pass. You want to come up. At least to keep you warm 'til your girls get out from their show?"

Maybe I'll get lucky, you'll hook up with some other high-flyer, and stay the Hell out of my business...

"Oh wow! That would be ama--"

Jalen walked on by her, continuing to the Marquee, trailed by the other pair.

"--zing." She joined the train, bringing up the rear, walking alongside of the younger ball player.

Jalen walked ahead, hands stuffed in his coatpockets, shoulders hunched in to protect from the cold.

Gail checked her fit, and her purse as she walked along behind. She wore a shoulderless, strapless cocktail dress that shimmered blue with the surrounding lights of the big city.

"Do you... want to borrow my jacket? I hope your friends didn't leave you out in the cold long." Lewis asked, noting that Jalen hadn't offered his own, even with his mentioned concern for keeping out of the cold - not picking up on any of the surrounding subtleties.

"Oh, you're sweet!" Gail replied. "But its only just up ahead a little."

"Oh, you've been to New York before?"

"Oh! No, I just-- figure, with you all walking from the Garden, it must only be around here somewhere..."

Jalen's head shook almost imperceptibly, as he overheard her story falling apart under the weakest questioning.

They continued through the evening's late December chill until hitting a human barrier which could only be surpassed with the password:

"Jalen Daniels plus three."

---

The difference in atmosphere was palpable.

Downstairs all noise seemed to dissipate in the nights air. In here, it just added to the cacophony. Downstairs the myriad lights of the big city caught the eye in various shades. Inside single shades held, ever changing but casting a clear set color glow. Downstairs the winter's chill cut through to the bone, up here the air was as hot as the beats and told anyone and everyone they should have left their jacket in coatcheck.

Jalen stepped out with a simple sentence to the younger player he was mentoring.

"Don't embarass me, and don't be surprised if someone gives you a tray to carry."

He felt Gail fold herself into his arm. "I don't recognise anyone here."

He sighed. So much for shaking her off...

"That's cos you're looking at the party from a distance. Get up close, it'll change. You'll see a face and go 'Oh, I know them? How do I know them?'. I didn't throw this party. You got famous people in different circles."

"I'm goin." Casper uttered. Mingling and putting the word out that you're here. Business. The unspoken words.

Jalen responded with a head nod, and stepped forwards.

"I don't know the music." Gail clung to his arm tighter.

"Didn't throw the party. I didn't pick the music, neither." He dismissed.

"Hey J.D." "Don't call me J.D. It's J.R. But don't call me that, neither."

"Daniels, you want a drink? They got trays of, what is this--? Dom Juan..?"

"Dom Jua-- Do you mean Dom Perignon? Oh Hell naw..." Jalen screwfaced with displeasure at the pair's inability to avoid embarassing him within the first two minutes. "Both of you need to broaden your damn horizons. Mingle. Or whatever you have to do to leave me the Hell alone for five mintes."

He yanked his arm clear of Gail's grip.

"I don't care if you go do it together or apart. Just... go. Talk to people. Circle back later. Much later."

Jalen slipped through the crowd as he cut a crooked path to the bar.

Camp Athens - Closed

Oh, hey there and good morning.

Seems pleasant enough. The thought drifted across Bax's mind and widened his crooked smile.

"I might as well introduce myself. I am Leo, and since I did not see you at the arena. I take it that you have just arrived at camp."

The arena..? His brows slightly furrowed, but never diminished the vague smile either in his eyes or across his lips.

The hamster on a wheel between his ears churned and attempted to divine what possible meaning there could be behind this.

"Since you will be asked this by the others. Who is your godly parent?" Leo barely hid his disapproval from his own parentage. "Mine is Ares," saying with annoyed restraint.

"Dining-psoriasis." Baxter said. Then the brow furrow returned. No. That wasn't it. What was it? The girl had said it last night. And his-- no, it was gone. Not dwelling anymore, the eyebrows lifted leaving only his confused answer.

"You missed a party last night, and it was good."

Ohhhhhhhh, the arena! The afterparty! After all, who ends a new years eve party right on midnight? That would be ridiculous. They all must have moved on to a better venue to keep the party going.

Baxter couldn't hide the disappointment on his face. He'd missed the continuation of the party.

And all the while he'd been packing up the bar and party stuff here... They probably had more to keep the party going at the arena! Of course! That's why everyone left so quickly!

Leo must be a pretty wild party animal. He still looked fresh even now at... whatever time this was. Baxter couldn't remember.

"A good way to start the new year and starting life at camp."

"I caught the start, and then cleaned up some things and had an early night."

"Though I got here yesterday, I might be able to answer some questions if you have any about camp. Did you find your way to your cabin all right?" Leo the Greeter asked, concerned for his well-being. It was sweet.

"Oh yes, its all wonderful. I dropped my things off when I got here, jacuzzi works fine, heater as well. No complaints, and I found it well enough with the early end of the evening."

"The arena though... is it still going on in there?" He asked, vaguely. Daring to hope.

These people must be much bigger partiers than he first thought, start the evening slow and then build big from there.

The disappointment crept back again that he'd missed the big blowout once they changed venue, probably tipped off by the fireworks show.

^{interactions ....|.... Leo - @Theyra............... mentions ....|.... Nil ............... collabs ....|.... Nil}

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

My idea of New York is based on Toronto.

And Mel.

@Lord Wraith

"New York, New York! Its a wonderful town,
the CN Tower's up and the Hockey Hall of Fame's down,
the TTC rolls through a hole in the ground..."

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

█ Jalen Daniels

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

█ ███ ██ █ S U M M A R Y █ ██ ███ █ Jalen Roscoe "J.R" Daniels AGE Twenty eight GENDER Male ETHNICITY/RACE African-American MARTIAL STATUS Single SEXUALITY Heterosexual ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅BIOGRAPHY▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ As a young buck, Jalen Daniels could often be found walking the mile and a half to 16th and Susquehanna busting out a seemingly endless stream of dribble moves with his off-hand. He had given verbal intent to go to Cheney… but that was before the HS State Championships. Where his stock skyrocketed, as smaller point guards often could, where the measurables didn’t see them targeted as heavily, and college letters were more contingent on form. Drawing interest from the Kentucky Wildcats, “Point Guard U”, he was left with the decision between staying with the small school, or somewhere in-state like Temple, or going all in on ball as a career. It was barely a decision. He took his “roaddog” Dio Dantley with him to Kentucky University, in a trend where colleges would frequently also take close compatriots of scholarship athletes ‘to ease the transition’ of being far away from family and most friends. He had an easy time in college though. Kentucky was very much a “basketball” college, and he was one of three All-Americans each of his years there. He took to the lifestyle and campus stardom readily. …which was why the Utah Jazz felt he would be able to cope with the move across the country in a professional manner, when their sixth overall pick came around. But what most didn’t see was that Jalen had a more difficult time away from campus and ball. When he went home, he often had his “blackness” brought into question for his decision to bail on HBCU Cheney University, by local critics who had followed his career from his youth. And that was before he was drafted by Utah Jazz… He also had close friends at him about every decision he made – “what’s up with taking Dio, man? I though you and me was cool? What you couldn’t get me in too?” One of whom was indeed one of his very closest friends, from back in the day: Casper Hamilton. And in honesty, Jalen had been torn about his decision at the time. Because whilst Dio was indeed his best friend, and closest – maybe ONLY true confidante – Casper was a close friend too… and was a much better student and more likely to actually be able to handle the academics of going to College and keeping pace (without the additional help athletes often get) with Jalen for the duration of his time at Kentucky. So the pair made a pact. And a plan. And that was how Casper became the first of his friends to know that Jalen Daniels would be declaring for the 2016 Draft. Under the provision that he never tell a soul. If he could do that, when his ticket came up, Jalen was going to do something that would change his life. It never came to light. Even Dio hadn’t known. And that was how Casper came to join the inner circle. …and how Jalen came to start paying for Casper’s college education as he earned a degree in Sports Management at Temple. NBA Rookie Contracts are all at scale. Jalen found himself the cheapest representation possible and the clock started as Casper got to work. Rookie contracts last four years. At an accelerated path, a Bachelor’s Degree in Sports Management can be achieved in three. Jalen assisted him with startup costs for his own agency as the played “beat the clock” to prepare Casper to represent him in time for his first contract extension. Casper was a hard worker, and smart. They managed to beat the clock and kept the money “in house”. But not all things were smooth sailing. Dio Dantley was shot as an innocent bystander in an incident in mid-season 2020-2021. Jalen got him the best of care, and flew out immediately to PA to be at his side. Leaving the Jazz to explain his absence to the press. Whilst his best friend still clung to life, Jalen swore he’d take care of his family (a mother and Dio’s younger sister Gail), his medical bills, whatever he needed. But money still has limits. He died after a thirty hour struggle. With Dio's passing, the coldness which had started to grip Jalen since he turned pro began to solidify. It;s not that there weren't signs of it before, but with his death the last relationship in his life where the power dynamics weren't completely screwed was gone. The things he most lived for now no longer had value beyond himself. And his goals were all of self-interest. He can now see "the bag" well within his grasp. If he can get that, it will all be worth it. He can change up everything and let loose and lead the exact lifestyle he'd always wanted. Everything and everyone else. The fake smiles. The restrained 'behaviour' standards he'd put on himself temporarily to assure the big payday. If he can ride out a month and a week... at the end of the season, he can finally let loose and get the fuck out. ▅CAREER▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ Jalen Daniels was drafted sixth overall to the Utah Jazz in 2016. He made the All-Rookie team with solid numbers, but it wasn’t until later when he found his feet, that he really established himself as a name in the league. His fourth season in the league, his breakout year, he scraped into the All-NBA Third team. He proved that was not an aberration by making it again two seasons later. The last two seasons he has made the All-NBA Second team, followed by another All-NBA Third team. As he now enters his contract season, those last two All-NBA selections, combined with the fact that he has remained on the Utah Jazz team which drafted him, make him eligible for “the bag” - the NBA “Supermax” Designated Veteran Player Extension this off-season. His initial rookie contract saw him earn a total of just under sixteen million dollars over his whole first four years. If he can remain on the Jazz past February 6, the “Supermax” extension will see him earn just under fifty million dollars next season alone, and progressively more each season (eleven percent annual raises) until his final “player option” season will see him earn just under seventy million. NBA contracts are fully guaranteed. He has been RICH since he came into the league. If he can remain on the Jazz for just over a month he will be WEALTHY. He hates Salt Lake City. And despises Utah. February the 6th is circled on his refrigerator. He finds himself in New York during an away swing now circulating, making connections, possible investment opportunities and putting his face out there for when “the bag” comes. And also possibly acting the big shot for ‘Rook’, and showing Gail a roomful of bigshots to get her out of his business. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅_{SUPPORTING CAST}▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	CASPER HAMILTON Jalen's agent and now closest friend. Jalen paid to put him through school, and lent him the money to start up his own agency. Facts he very frequently reminds Casper of. His slowly growing agency, 'Downtown... CasH!' currently has eight clients.All on Jalen's recommendation. Another fact that he's not backwards in reminding Casper of. Whilst he never collected or requested a 'finder's fee' (another fact he reminds him of) for any of them. Now why he has never requested or collected a 'finder's fee', is a reason he will never tell Casper...	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	GAIL DANTLEY His late best friend Dio's little sister. One of the two people he swore on Dio's death bed that he'd take care of. Which, probably wasn't mutually understood as 'will sleep with a bunch of times and sling her money when she needs it' but life has a funny way of happening. It's not like he wanted it to happen. He's just... trying to be on his best behaviour, and not hitting up the clubs. And she's around. And sometimes she looks... Look, he's a hungry dog sometimes, alright? And she keeps hanging around. It's her fault for keeping on hanging around. She'll figure out 'take care of' ain't no til death do us part thing, right? 'Specially when he gets the Hell out of Salt Lake City and gets back on that night life... Didn't invite her. Jalen, Casper and Rook 'coincidentally ran into her'... in New York... on the way to the party, and Jalen had an additional plus-one he had no initial intention of using and figured maybe she'd be wowed by someone at the party and it might do the hard job of extricating himself from the situationship he has with her for him, painlessly and with no involvement on his end.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	'ROOK' Jalen's first-year teammate who was curious about New York City nightlife, who he has 'taken under his wing' to show him the 'Big City' being trusted by the team, that if he's with the well behaved veteran it should at least keep him out of trouble. His name is Lewis Ward, but Jalen refuses to acknowledge first year player's even have a name. His teammates also tease him and call him 'rookie', but Jalen said "he has no intention of wasting two syllables on him". Very wide eyed about the whole night.	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	BRIAN - (not present at the party) Brian is Jalen's Financial Adviser/Accountant/Legal Adviser. Not to be confused with his agent. Brian isn't particularly close to Jalen. Jalen isn't particularly close to Brian. Their relationship is purely business, and maintaining their mutually beneficial situation. Attending the party was Brian's idea, he's also the one who was able to secure entry passes. Laying the groundwork for Jalen Daniels being 'someone to know' in the lead-up to his next contract extension.

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Hound55>

Looks like you're... Fashionably late.

@Colonel Sep

Some call it "inconsiderate", I call it "understanding the assignment perfectly".

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

Jalen Daniels

█ Jalen Daniels

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

█ ███ ██ █ S U M M A R Y █ ██ ███ █ Jalen Roscoe "J.R" Daniels AGE Twenty eight GENDER Male ETHNICITY/RACE African-American MARTIAL STATUS Single SEXUALITY Heterosexual ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅BIOGRAPHY▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ As a young buck, Jalen Daniels could often be found walking the mile and a half to 16th and Susquehanna busting out a seemingly endless stream of dribble moves with his off-hand. He had given verbal intent to go to Cheney… but that was before the HS State Championships. Where his stock skyrocketed, as smaller point guards often could, where the measurables didn’t see them targeted as heavily, and college letters were more contingent on form. Drawing interest from the Kentucky Wildcats, “Point Guard U”, he was left with the decision between staying with the small school, or somewhere in-state like Temple, or going all in on ball as a career. It was barely a decision. He took his “roaddog” Dio Dantley with him to Kentucky University, in a trend where colleges would frequently also take close compatriots of scholarship athletes ‘to ease the transition’ of being far away from family and most friends. He had an easy time in college though. Kentucky was very much a “basketball” college, and he was one of three All-Americans each of his years there. He took to the lifestyle and campus stardom readily. …which was why the Utah Jazz felt he would be able to cope with the move across the country in a professional manner, when their sixth overall pick came around. But what most didn’t see was that Jalen had a more difficult time away from campus and ball. When he went home, he often had his “blackness” brought into question for his decision to bail on HBCU Cheney University, by local critics who had followed his career from his youth. And that was before he was drafted by Utah Jazz… He also had close friends at him about every decision he made – “what’s up with taking Dio, man? I though you and me was cool? What you couldn’t get me in too?” One of whom was indeed one of his very closest friends, from back in the day: Casper Hamilton. And in honesty, Jalen had been torn about his decision at the time. Because whilst Dio was indeed his best friend, and closest – maybe ONLY true confidante – Casper was a close friend too… and was a much better student and more likely to actually be able to handle the academics of going to College and keeping pace (without the additional help athletes often get) with Jalen for the duration of his time at Kentucky. So the pair made a pact. And a plan. And that was how Casper became the first of his friends to know that Jalen Daniels would be declaring for the 2016 Draft. Under the provision that he never tell a soul. If he could do that, when his ticket came up, Jalen was going to do something that would change his life. It never came to light. Even Dio hadn’t known. And that was how Casper came to join the inner circle. …and how Jalen came to start paying for Casper’s college education as he earned a degree in Sports Management at Temple. NBA Rookie Contracts are all at scale. Jalen found himself the cheapest representation possible and the clock started as Casper got to work. Rookie contracts last four years. At an accelerated path, a Bachelor’s Degree in Sports Management can be achieved in three. Jalen assisted him with startup costs for his own agency as the played “beat the clock” to prepare Casper to represent him in time for his first contract extension. Casper was a hard worker, and smart. They managed to beat the clock and kept the money “in house”. But not all things were smooth sailing. Dio Dantley was shot as an innocent bystander in an incident in mid-season 2020-2021. Jalen got him the best of care, and flew out immediately to PA to be at his side. Leaving the Jazz to explain his absence to the press. Whilst his best friend still clung to life, Jalen swore he’d take care of his family (a mother and Dio’s younger sister Gail), his medical bills, whatever he needed. But money still has limits. He died after a thirty hour struggle. With Dio's passing, the coldness which had started to grip Jalen since he turned pro began to solidify. It;s not that there weren't signs of it before, but with his death the last relationship in his life where the power dynamics weren't completely screwed was gone. The things he most lived for now no longer had value beyond himself. And his goals were all of self-interest. He can now see "the bag" well within his grasp. If he can get that, it will all be worth it. He can change up everything and let loose and lead the exact lifestyle he'd always wanted. Everything and everyone else. The fake smiles. The restrained 'behaviour' standards he'd put on himself temporarily to assure the big payday. If he can ride out a month and a week... at the end of the season, he can finally let loose and get the fuck out. ▅CAREER▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ Jalen Daniels was drafted sixth overall to the Utah Jazz in 2016. He made the All-Rookie team with solid numbers, but it wasn’t until later when he found his feet, that he really established himself as a name in the league. His fourth season in the league, his breakout year, he scraped into the All-NBA Third team. He proved that was not an aberration by making it again two seasons later. The last two seasons he has made the All-NBA Second team, followed by another All-NBA Third team. As he now enters his contract season, those last two All-NBA selections, combined with the fact that he has remained on the Utah Jazz team which drafted him, make him eligible for “the bag” - the NBA “Supermax” Designated Veteran Player Extension this off-season. His initial rookie contract saw him earn a total of just under sixteen million dollars over his whole first four years. If he can remain on the Jazz past February 6, the “Supermax” extension will see him earn just under fifty million dollars next season alone, and progressively more each season (eleven percent annual raises) until his final “player option” season will see him earn just under seventy million. NBA contracts are fully guaranteed. He has been RICH since he came into the league. If he can remain on the Jazz for just over a month he will be WEALTHY. He hates Salt Lake City. And despises Utah. February the 6th is circled on his refrigerator. He finds himself in New York during an away swing now circulating, making connections, possible investment opportunities and putting his face out there for when “the bag” comes. And also possibly acting the big shot for ‘Rook’, and showing Gail a roomful of bigshots to get her out of his business. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅_{SUPPORTING CAST}▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	CASPER HAMILTON Jalen's agent and now closest friend. Jalen paid to put him through school, and lent him the money to start up his own agency. Facts he very frequently reminds Casper of. His slowly growing agency, 'Downtown... CasH!' currently has eight clients.All on Jalen's recommendation. Another fact that he's not backwards in reminding Casper of. Whilst he never collected or requested a 'finder's fee' (another fact he reminds him of) for any of them. Now why he has never requested or collected a 'finder's fee', is a reason he will never tell Casper...	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	GAIL DANTLEY His late best friend Dio's little sister. One of the two people he swore on Dio's death bed that he'd take care of. Which, probably wasn't mutually understood as 'will sleep with a bunch of times and sling her money when she needs it' but life has a funny way of happening. It's not like he wanted it to happen. He's just... trying to be on his best behaviour, and not hitting up the clubs. And she's around. And sometimes she looks... Look, he's a hungry dog sometimes, alright? And she keeps hanging around. It's her fault for keeping on hanging around. She'll figure out 'take care of' ain't no til death do us part thing, right? 'Specially when he gets the Hell out of Salt Lake City and gets back on that night life... Didn't invite her. Jalen, Casper and Rook 'coincidentally ran into her'... in New York... on the way to the party, and Jalen had an additional plus-one he had no initial intention of using and figured maybe she'd be wowed by someone at the party and it might do the hard job of extricating himself from the situationship he has with her for him, painlessly and with no involvement on his end.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	'ROOK' Jalen's first-year teammate who was curious about New York City nightlife, who he has 'taken under his wing' to show him the 'Big City' being trusted by the team, that if he's with the well behaved veteran it should at least keep him out of trouble. His name is Lewis Ward, but Jalen refuses to acknowledge first year player's even have a name. His teammates also tease him and call him 'rookie', but Jalen said "he has no intention of wasting two syllables on him". Very wide eyed about the whole night.	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	BRIAN - (not present at the party) Brian is Jalen's Financial Adviser/Accountant/Legal Adviser. Not to be confused with his agent. Brian isn't particularly close to Jalen. Jalen isn't particularly close to Brian. Their relationship is purely business, and maintaining their mutually beneficial situation. Attending the party was Brian's idea, he's also the one who was able to secure entry passes. Laying the groundwork for Jalen Daniels being 'someone to know' in the lead-up to his next contract extension.

Camp Athens - Closed

A stray firework rode into the sky and burst into a bloom of red and golden lights, blurred by the sweet nectar of the evening's taste.

"Looks like we’re out of time, handsome," The girl in the sparkling dress spoke loud enough to be heard over the fireworks as she turned back to face Baxter. "But just for you…"

Her glass clinked softly against his, he drank deeply as he had all night, whilst she sipped wary of her present state and setting a pace she felt she could still be uncomfortably at ease with.

After draining her glass and replacing it on the counter top, she leaned forward and hooked two fingers in the collar of his open shirt - made much easier by his own willingness, vacant-eyed as ever.

"It’s bad luck to enter the new year without a kiss."

The remaining distance was closed between them by Blair, she pressed her lips against his as they hovered precariously over the previously filled champagne glassesatop his bar. As always he ceded to the other's discretion. With inhibitions undoubtedly loosened by his own prior actions it never seemed right to further assert and push the issue. But he found himself surprised. The girl used no tongue and did nothing to take things to a place which would be considered overtly sexual. Then he remembered the music playing in his own head, his dancing, he'd barely started. If he even really did at all. Had he?

As the girl in the sparkling dress savoured the moment for a second or two before pulling away, she left him with a warm, and slightly guilty, smile.

Wait... this was just something she had wanted to do. And it was measured. And...

"Happy New Year’s, Baxter." She said, her eyes lazily half-closed with warmed cheeks, as she stepped down from the stool and made her farewell with no further fanfare.

That wasn't something Baxter had ever experienced before.

He'd found himself in all kinds of situations as a result of out of control parties and dancing. After which he'd extricated himself and despite the clear enjoyment, both parties of the parties were all too willing to never party again and instead part their separate ways. Apart.

But this was entirely controlled. Measured. And of her own whim.

Did she... Actually LIKE him?

"G'night..."

---

Baxter had continued pouring drinks under the assumption that the night wouldn't be drawing to a close for many hours after the clock struck fireworks.

His diligence was met by a complete lack of willingness to keep pace with him, and whilst the night was indeed young, people intended for it to remain that way, as people slowly frittered away on the winds in all directions to their own cabins, it wasn't until the bitter cold swept through on one of those winds that it became clear to Baxter that the night was indeed over.

He put bottles in the plastic tub he had beneath the bar, and was pleasantly surprised when he realised that one side revealed a handle, and that he'd been stowing the booze in a wagon all along.

Anyone who would have still been around five minutes later, would have caught sight of a solitary figure in the blustering snow, trying to drag a wagon full of clinking bottles through the growing powder, with his off-hand desperately trying to close his open-buttoned shirt in a feeble attempt to ward off the elements as he staggered back to his cabin.

---

A four post bed covered in furs and opulent blankets, appealing to comfort in the hedonistic centre of a cabin which featured a still bubbling jacuzzi held the unconscious form of the son of Dionysus, and the visions of the mind within...

The door to a housing trust rental popped open a crack, and the raccoon eyed face of a squatter named Baxter Marsh popped his head through to see what the late caller wanted.

"G'morning..?"

"Afternoon." The caller corrected.

"I guess we can agree to disagree." Baxter replied. He didn't know why the caller was here, but it was seldom good news when they started to take it upon themselves to correct you about the time of day so early in the morning.

Or at least the conversation.

The morning caller sighed.

"Were you at 'The Bent Elbow' last night?"

"I think you might be looking for Pete. Peeeeete!" Baxter took the opportunity to try to shut the door whilst he called for the guy who was actually renting the house, only to find it met with resistence. He was unable to close the door.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. And Last Friday, you were at 'The Hammered Nail'."

"Peeeeeete!" He kept swinging the door, unable to close it, whilst the face in front of him grimaced with every attempt to slam the door.

"Stop that!"

'The Bent Elbow' and 'The Hammered Nail' had both been in the news of late. As sudden outbreaks of public indecency had occurred in each one. The Hammered Nail had even seen, what had been described as 'a spontaneous orgy of a depraved nature which had somehow gone beyond the venue's maximum occupancy' leading many journalists to rename it 'The Nailed Hammer' or 'The Meatpile'.

The fact that someone was at the door now asking Baxter questions about it, left Baxter wanting to take a very defensive posture.

That posture being on the other side of this closed and locked front door.

"Stop. Shutting. The damn. Door. On... Dammit! I'm not a cop! Just speak to me!"

Slowly the door inched open, with half of Bax's face appearing from the shadows within, behind the door.

"Really..? Cos you'd have to say if you're a cop, right?"

"No. Idiot." Suddenly the door was kicked. Hard. Directly into Baxter's face.

"Owww..." Bax whined as the door collided with his cheek and sent him sprawling.

It was a level of violence Baxter was unfamilar with, and he'd come across all sorts in his partying ways. A kick beyond anything he'd seen, and he was fortunate he was already moving away as the door collided with him, but his present company seemed to no longer be willing to have a conversation where the door was involved.

"I'm your brother Lenny." He uttered, breathing heavily with frustration. "And you are Baxter Marsh. I've been looking for you for weeks."

Baxter looked up at the much shorter figure now standing in the doorway. Backlit by the bright day's sun.

He reached into a pocket and drew a letter which he'd received.

"I've got a letter from our father. It speaks of attendance to a special camp..."

"Our father wants me to go to some kind of camp..?"

"Our father asked ME to go to some kind of camp. Something says I probably wouldn't exactly be accepted in a place like that though..."

He gestured to something which still wasn't exactly clear to Baxter.

Lenny sighed. "I'm-- Good morning campers. This is your new leader, River, speaking."

Baxter seemed confused. He didn't know him particularly well, in fact this was one of only a few times they ever communicated, but from what he could remember it wasn't like Lenny to agree with him on something. particularly on it being morning. Especially with the afternoon sun so prominent and providing him backlighting.

"Beg yours--?"

"It is currently 7:30 a.m. on January 1st. Your first training will begin in one hour at 8:30 a.m. in the arena." Baxter squinted uncharacteristically, as his everpresent grin dropped from his face. Lenny's words didn't seem to be matching up with what he was saying. It was extremely strange.

This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. He stopped listening to Lenny and went by feel.

"Oh, bigots are they..?"

Lenny replied by running over and picking him up by both sides of the collar of his open buttoned shirt.

Something about the motion made Baxter pucker up for a kiss. But he was pretty sure that wasn't how this conversation went either.

Lenny yelled something at him but again it came out strange.

Please arrive promptly and dress accordingly."

"OK. So it seems like they have a pretty strict dress code though, if they take it as seriously as you are..."

Lenny's hands shook as he held him aloft by the collar. He was very solidly built, for his height. Then Baxter realised something.

"Oh." Baxter stood up with his feet flat on the ground, pulling Lenny off balance up to his tiptoes. "I didn't realise I could just stand up, there. Who's our father, anyway?"

Lenny sneered, as if disgusted that Baxter hadn't realised as much yet. He didn't seem to like him very much.

"Dionysus." Lenny turned and dramatically said, as if the name should mean something to him.

"What, is he some kind of magistrate or bigwig Cabinet polli in Canberra or somethi--"

"Really? God of wine? The vine? Fertilitity? Ecstasy? Madness?"

"...that's a pretty big portflio."

"Yeah. That's a pretty big portfolio."

Baxter scratched his chin. "So, if our father wanted YOU to go, then how is it... that you... come to be here?"

"Because I didn't like it when he sent me the letter, and followed it up with him, and he said... and I quote... 'Well, if you can find any other sons of Dionysus, then by all means'..."

"That doesn't seem like he was being very serious about that, it sounds more like he was being--"

"I don't care. That's exactly the kind of loophole that you need to get out of this sort of Fated thing in-- Why am I even explaining this? Here's the letter. You're expected. They'll probably have a big party when you turn up."

Baxter looked down at the letter he was now holding. The strange map it contained. And the personalised script that it held, and was changing even as he looked at it.

"...Party..?"

---

Baxter straightened to his feet with a yawn. He staggered over shag-carpeting, kicking his foot on a wagon that lay in the middle of the floor with a groan. Hopping on one foot to the refrigerator, walking past a clock which held the right-angled time of 9 o'clock. He opened the refrigerator, scratched himself in two places at once, as he propped the door open with his shoulder, before pulling a wine bottle from the fridge door. He raised it to his lips. Gargled the contents like mouthwash before a swallow, then staggered off to the bathroom to complete 'rotating his fluids'. The sound of urine hitting the water at the bottom echoed through the cabin for an eternal minute before the taps ran, washing his hands.

One more yawn, and he staggered across the floor before once again collapsing into the four post bed, awash with furs, blankets and cushions, as sleep re-claimed him.

---

If Baxter dreamed again, he didn't remember it. He rolled off of the bed with a small groan. He stumbled and hopped across shag-carpeting, his foot finding the wagon once more. But it was a meander of intent.

He pulled a glass from the cupboard, after spying one with half-slit 'lids and his vague grin growing across his face, like a fresh sunrise that saw the outside of these walls several hours ago.

The refrigerator was opened, and he put the glass inside whilst he inspected each shelf for what he wanted.

"Ah!" He exhaled in mild joy.

A stick of celery drawn from the strange new position of the vegetable crisper, was stuffed under one arm whilst he pulled a carton of tomato juice and a small bottle of Tabasco sauce out with one hand, and a larger bottle of worchestershire sauce and his empty glass with the other, closing the door with a swing of his hip.

He placed everything on the countertop and opened up his small pantry to see what he had to work with.

"Let's see-let's see-let's see..." Fingers turning the small jars and bottles.

"Saaalt... Black pepper... Ooo, nutmeg? Thank you kindly... Cayenne..? My good friend Cayenne, you have a date with a girl called Margaret..."

The juice was poured and mixed with the spices at his discretion, stirred thoroughly with the celery stalk.

He dusted the rim of the glass with salt, and then habitually snorted it from his hand as he had a hundred times before.

"Bloody Mary, full of Grace, take us Gin-ners on a righteous path, lead us not away from tempt-Jameson, and deliver us to Aperol..." He held his hands out in reverence... before snapping his fingers, raising his own blood-alcohol level and completely negating the need for the hair of the dog he had in front of him in the first place.

Shrugging, he drained the complete contents of the high-ball. Snorting slightly in reaction to a streak of the nutmeg shooting up his sinuses in his haste.

"Hoya-toya-toledo! Nutmeg, you are a feisty bitch..." It had played its part though. No more half-slits. His eyes were wide open now.

"Time to greet the day..." He looked down at himself. He was still in the wrinkled, open, unbuttoned shirt from the night before, paired with a fetching pair of underwear. Although people would probably frown upon the ensemble, regardless how fetching they may be.

There's no accounting for taste.

Baxter pulled his shirt off and threw it away to whereabouts unknown and swiftly forgotten about. He reached down and put his rolling case on the bed, unzipping one side. He drew an identical shirt, complete with coathanger, from the bag and flung the hanger to another forgotten corner. He drew another pair of identical underpants, and lay them out on the bed. Before reaching a blind arm in and drawing out a pair of tight denim pants.

He threw the shirt over his head, scrambled his arms through the suitable holes, and then unbuttoned the shirt down the front, before changing his lower half to be 'more decent' for the outside world.

In a few minutes he pulled on his shoes, a pair of boots he'd got from somewhere along his European trek, from parts long since forgotten. He pulled his feather lined fur coat from where it hung over a chair and sniffed it twice, about to put it on.

"Eww... You... need a wash. Ugh." Baxter dropped the coat into the jacuzzi, and considering things for a moment, placed his high ball glass from his bloody mary in the jacuzzi as well, before scrubbing the green paint stripe from his face with a few handscoops of water, to dubious effect.

Another blind arm pulling at his rolling case, until he drew out a long coat. He pulled it on and buttoned it over his unbuttoned shirt.

"Perr--fect..?" He looked, swishing the bottom of the long coat around himself. "...or close enough."

And so Baxter left to kill the few hours before the next presumptive party, and explore the grounds of this place. As he made his way beack to the field which held the festivities of the previousl night, he saw a tall lean gentleman approaching in athleisure wear.

"G'morning!" He cheerfully greeted the oncoming man, crimson of hair and stubble.

^{interactions ....|.... Leo - @Theyra............... mentions ....|.... Blair (via flashback), "Lenny" (NPC) ............... collabs ....|.... Pending}