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Reluctantly retired roleplayer.

Except when I'm not.

Why are you here when you should be writing posts?

You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.

Most Recent Posts

Having finally caught up on the IC, I just want to say you're all doing fantastic work.

But if anyone harms Aurora, just know there is a special hell for you.

If I had a nickel for every OC superhuman RP where Aurora is the cinnamon bun, I'd have two nickels, which is not a lot, but it's weird that it has happened twice.
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.

_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head

_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man

_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,

_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though

_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...




LOCATION: THE HAUNT - MILK STREET
URBAN GOTHIC #1.03: HEAVY IS THE HEAD

INTERACTIONS: NONE
PREVIOUSLY: THE HAUNT
Archie had never been drunk before.

Sure, he had tried a drink or two after his twenty-first birthday, but he had quickly decided that alcohol wasn't for him. The constant buzz in his head, the gurgling of his stomach, the warmth that clung to the back of his jaw and danced across his ears. He didn't like it. The slower cognitive speed, the slurring and stumbling over his words, and the delayed response time. He didn't like it.

The lights of the club were invigorating as the beat of the thumping subwoofers found its way into Archie's body and moved his limbs along with it. Laughter echoed in his ears; some of it even sounded like his. Gangly limbs flailed about rhythmically, and cheering encouraged further display. He had even managed to find himself a tie at some point throughout the night; it was now wrapped around his head.

Archie was drunk.

But for the first time in his life, he didn't seem to mind. Harri was enjoying herself, dancing and laughing alongside him. The cute bartender kept topping up his drinks, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Archie felt like he actually had a chance with her. Maybe alcohol really could solve all of his problems? He fell into a hypnotic trance, letting go of his thoughts as he became one with the music, distancing himself from everyone around him, and letting the warm feeling in his belly lull him into an idyllic place.

The music fell into a decrescendo, a hush falling over the dancefloor. Tension hung in the air before the tweeter suddenly started to build, a snare and high hat queued up the beat, before suddenly the entire club burst out in unison as the bass dropped.

"I'M NOT GRAY!"

The 'Calder City Blues' was a favourite track among the city's mundane population. Originally a viral clip from an interview at a horrific crime scene involving the abduction of three children under twelve, the mother had lamented, 'I'm not gray,' to the reporters seemingly unprompted, leading to numerous remixes. The most popular of which was of course 'Calder City Blues', a heavy house track by DJ R3TCH!D R@T.

You couldn't walk down Milk Street during the evening without hearing the familiar beat pumping from behind the doors of its various clubs. 'The Haunt' in particular was known to host R3CH!D R@T frequently, and tonight was one such event.

The strobing lights followed the resumed tempo, pulsing along with the meter as the dance floor exploded. Archie had never had this much fun in his entire life, but a strange sensation was washing over him. It started in his toes and went all the way to his head. The room began to spin, and he stumbled forward, pushing himself off a nearby support column before stumbling into a pair of women. He heard laughter again, but this time it sounded like it was only his, followed by the sound of shattering glass and curse-laden shrieks.

He needed another drink.

Approaching the bar, he managed to flag down another bartender, re-ordering the cocktail that Carmilla had made for him, although she was nowhere to be seen. He pouted into his drink, looking around for the buxom, raven-haired beauty, hoping to weaponize his liquid courage for the good of getting her number, or at least her 'Snapshot' handle.

"How many of those have you had?"

Harri suddenly appeared beside Archie, causing him to jump, spilling the drink in his hand before he sloppily bent down and slurped up as much as he could so as not to lose the magical elixir that was responsible for the thus far best night of his life.

"Only like three," Archie replied, holding up a hand with five splayed fingers. "I don't tell you enough how pretty you are."

"That's sweet, but you're very drunk. Not a good look, Mr. Hardwick." Harri shook her head, "You need water and grease, like yesterday."

"I need you, like yesterday," Archie replied, his words slurred as he attempted to playfully poke Harri, not realizing the force he put behind his finger. She winced, quickly pushing his hand away before Archie opened his mouth again, his glassy eyes batting eyelashes that looked like they came straight out of a Maybelline ad towards her.

"Our babies would be smart and beautiful."

"I'm more surprised you can still manage three-syllable words. What are you drinking?" Harri asked, taking the glass from Archie's hand before batting his hand away from petting her hair. She took a sniff of the glass before a small taste. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

"Oh, hun, you are going to have the worst hangover. This is pure sugar." Harri replied, "We need to get you to a greasy spoon stat, coffee, bacon and water. That's all you're getting from this point on."

"But I want the magic juice," Archie pouted, piquing up as Carmilla reappeared behind the bar.

"How's my favourite customer?"

"He should be cut off." Harri interjected, putting herself between Archie and Carmilla, "Is he all settled up? We're about to leave."

"Oh," Carmilla replied, looking from Harri back to Archie, "Is this your girlfriend?"

Archie stared back at Carmilla; he hadn't previously noticed the colour of her eyes. The subtle hues of gray mixed in with her blue reflected the light of the club, giving them almost a supernatural violet glow. He felt drawn in, forgetting the question or Harri for a moment as he froze like a gazelle caught in a snare by a hungry lioness. The stillness of his mind was broken, his internal monologue waking up and snapping him back to reality.

Say something smooth, you idiot.

"Not if you're available," Archie replied, making a finger gun and following it with a clicking noise out of the side of his mouth.

"Sorry," Harri interjected, her jaw agape. "I've never seen him like this; he's pretty wasted."

"He is pretty," Carmilla replied, "I think he's cute."

"I guess," Harri shrugged, "If you're into that kind of thing." Her voice trailed off as she realized that Archie was hanging onto her every word. Scratching the side of her head, Harri looked at her feet, pursing her lips before tucking a strand of straightened hair behind her ear.

Archie stared at Harri. The side of his face twitched slightly. What did she just say? After all this time, he felt like a burden had been lighted, only it was a damper that just stoked a fire.

If you're into that kind of thing? Where does she get off? I've been buying her drinks all night. If you're into that kind of thing? What kind of thing does she think I am? She does realize I'm a person, a person with feelings, right? Feelings for her, especially. I thought we were friends and she doesn't even think of me as more than a thing?

"Uh," She cleared her throat, "We really do need to get you something on your stomach that's not sugar or liquor." Harri insisted, gently wrapping an arm around one of Archie's.

"No," Archie stated flatly before finishing the drink he held in his hand. His knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the glass. Shifting his body, Archie turned away from Harri, hunching his back and looking straight down at the counter.

"No, I'm staying here, where people like me." He replied bitterly, pushing the empty glass forward for a refill.

"Archie, c'mon. You're drunk, you're not seeing things for what they are-"

"No, I think I'm seeing things pretty clearly," He snapped angrily. He slammed the glass down on the bar rail before standing up from the stool. Taking a step back, Archie stumbled, nearly falling to the floor before Harri caught him. Taking hold of the countertop, he shook her off before straightening his shirt and standing up.

"I've got to hit the head, don't wait for me." He stated, swaying back and forth as he did before spinning around and heading for the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry," Harri apologized behind Archie to Carmilla, "I've never seen him act like that."

"I don't think it's me you have to apologize to," Carmilla replied, cleaning a glass as she watched Archie walk toward the restrooms. "I'll watch out for him if you want to take off. Maybe give him some space until cooler and more sober heads prevail."

"Nah," Harri shook her head, "I think you've done enough for tonight."

Pushing through the crowd, Archie continued his way towards the washrooms only to realize the size of the line leading to the men's. Apparently, someone had managed to fudge their way through a code inspection since there was no way the bathrooms were undersized enough to cause a line of this length.

Shaking his head, he felt the need to urinate rapidly rising within him as his eyes darted back and forth across the club, looking for an alternative option. Seeing no other signs indicating a second bathroom, his eyes landed on an exit sign to the adjacent alley.

Hastily pushing through the crowd, Archie burst the door open, the cool night air doing him no favours before he ducked around a corner and found himself a secluded spot amid dumpsters and shadows. The zipper on his pants echoed in the quiet alley before being replaced by the steady stream of what felt like a firehose worth of piss he had to unload from his bladder.

Relief washed over Archie. There were few sensations he had experienced that felt better than this did in the moment.

"Yo!" The voice called angrily.

"What the #&$% do you think you're doing?" The familiar voice added. Archie shook himself out before zipping up his pants. Taking a step back to turn around, he soundly found his face smashed into the nearby brick wall.

And the world went black.
@BrutalBx I just read your post after putting my latest up, and I think we might be on the same wavelength if it's cool with you to tie the Dragons to El Jefe and the King's Blood?
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.

_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head

_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man

_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,

_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though

_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...




LOCATION: MILK STREET - POINTE BORDEAUX
URBAN GOTHIC #1.02: THE HAUNT

INTERACTIONS: NONE
PREVIOUSLY: HARDIWCK
By six forty-five, Archie had already found himself passing back and forth in front of the 'Haunt'. Everyone in Pointe Bordeaux knew of the Haunt; it wasn't an entirely unfamiliar place to him, though Archie himself had never been inside its doors. He had heard chatter around the office before; it was a regular spot for a cheeky pint after work, but the general consensus always came back to 'it was cool before it became popular'. Still, that didn't stop the bodies from lining the sidewalk in front of the Milk Street club, cigarette smoke hung in the air in both directions from several groups huddled against the brick wall, while the faint thump of the subwoofers rattled the thinly paned glass windows that were basked in crimson and copper glows. While Calder proper had the likes of 'The Velvet Room', out here in the Peninsula, it was 'The Haunt' that drew people in.

Formerly a bottling facility, like much of Milk Street, the industrial facility had been transformed into something more consumer-friendly. The size of the space even allowed 'The Haunt' to operate a microbrewery, putting out its signature sour beer, 'Schwarzwald', named for the Black Forest in Germany and the sour cherries used to give the beer its distinctive colour and flavour. But scarcely anyone was coming to the Haunt for beer; it was the deals made in dark booths and on the corners of the dancefloor that drew most of the crowd in. It was hardly a secret that Pointe Bordeaux constantly laundered money for the cartel, and local gangs acted as distributors for some of the most potent highs and their fathomless lows.

Archie had worked a summer stint in the district attorney's office. It had been eye-opening just how many trafficking cases the city handled in a summer. It had been gut-wrenching how many were settled in backroom deals or thrown out altogether. He had neither the stomach nor the spine for that line of work and was much happier at Pendelton & Hawking performing contract law.

To his understanding, it paid better too. Criminal law was a thankless line of work.

Continuing to pace back and forth in front of the club, Archie glanced at his watch again before catching his own reflection in one of the aforementioned vibrating windows. He cupped a hand to his mouth, blowing into it before taking a deep whiff. It was still minty fresh, just like it had been a minute ago and the minute before that. Nonetheless, he couldn't be too safe as he pulled a wrapper from his pocket, depositing the barely broken-in piece of gum between the wax paper and exchanging it for a fresh one.

He stretched his legs, shaking out his weak knees before airing his sweaty palms out. A blast of wintermint overwhelmed his nasal cavities. Looking at himself in the window, Archie studied his outfit up and down, second, no third, perhaps even fourth-guessing his choice in wardrobe. What did one wear out for drinks? He had a jacket with him, though he didn't need it; everything he had ever seen told him that Harri wouldn't dress for the weather, and when she found herself cold, Archie would have a jacket to offer her. Should he have worn a tie? Archie fastened the top button of his shirt under the loosely fitted V-necked sweater before unbuttoning it again. He felt naked without the silk sash tied around his neck.

"Ya look nervous, sweetheart," A voice called from nearby, breaking Archie from his train of thought. He turned towards the source of the voice, his eyes glazing over at the sheer number of people around him. With the municipal holidays, 'The Days of Remembrance,' and the funeral for 'The Mountain', there were more people on the streets than usual, making the growing throng quite overwhelming.

"Over here, pretty boy," The voice said again, this time followed by a waved hand as Archie's eyes landed on the grungy-looking young man. Jeans ripped open at the knees hung loosely from his waist, leaving the man's boxer puffed over the top, barely tucked under the second skin-like tank top that looked held in place by a layer of sweat. A layered plaid hung off his shoulders, exposing a dragon tattoo that started at the base of his jaw and travelled down his right arm. A green hoodie was tight around his waist, emblazoned with a familiar logo that Archie recognized from his time with the D.A.'s office.

American Dragons

The Dragons were pill pushers for the cartel; it made Milk Street a rather appealing turf for them. If it was an upper, they were peddling it. A lot of alleged Gray-related crime in the Pointe was falsely reported due to experimental drugs coming in from South America, replicating Gray-like abilities temporarily, leading partiers to have wilder nights than they signed up for. There were numerous speculations as to what the cartel had gotten their hands on to make such a pill. Archie had heard everything from an ancient flower to a super soldier program to even the trafficking and mutilation of other Grays.

"Uh, no." Archie replied, meekly raising a hand, "No, no thank you."

"Hey, hey, let's not be too hasty, no need to be rude about." The Dragon said, taking a step off the wall he was leaning against and moving towards Archie. Behind him, several others suddenly stood up, causing Archie to swallow hard before taking a step back. His eyes darted down to his watch.

Seven Thirty? Where are you, Harri?

"C'mon now, look, I'm just trying to help you. Ya seem like a nervous wreck, I've got just the thing. It'll get ya laid, you'll be able ta go all night. You'll feel amazing, sweetheart, guaranteed and just for you, it's on me tonight."

Yeah, okay buddy, there's no power in the 'verse that's going to get me laid.

"L-l-look," Archie stammered, "I'm a luh, lawyer." He managed. Sometimes it would be nice if his inside voice and his outside voice could switch for a few minutes. Especially in circumstances like this.

"And?" The Dragon scoffed, "You think the lawyers at the Velvet Room are rolling sober? That level of stress, you need what I go. Look at you, clawin' at your neck, looking for the noose that monkey suit comes with. Pretty Boy, I am beggin' ya ta let me help ya out."

Yeah sure, just let me get that high, finally have the swagger to tell Harri how I feel and then we'll go all the way in a dingy club bathroom stall. Boy, you sure are selling the romance out here on the street corner.

"I, I don't think I need your help." Archie replied, taking a step back before the Dragon suddenly lurched forward. He caught Archie, wrapping his arm around the lithe man and guiding him back towards his fellow gang members.

"Look, ya definitely need help, superstar," The Dragon flashed a smile of yellowed teeth, one displayed a predominant chip that had been filled with an obnoxious gold metal. "Just think, if you were a Gray, you could have whatever you want."

Archie shook his head, nearly closing his eyes to prevent the other man from seeing them roll into the back of his head.

Preaching to the choir there, pal. Tell me something I don't know.

"But, I-I'm not Gray." He finally replied, protesting almost a little too loudly.

"But you could be, just for tonight," The Dragon said, "C'mon, you can't tell me you never wanted to know what it feels like."

You did say 'Gray', right?

"You did say 'Gray', right? Archie blurted out. He was met with some raised eyebrows as the other Dragons looked from Archie back to their apparent leader. Archie wanted to run, but his body was frozen, unable to move.

$#!%, inside voice got out. Panicking now.

"Hah! Pretty Boy's got jokes," The Dragon replied, releasing Archie before standing wide-armed in front of his posse. "But all the pretty fillies on da Milk Street know that Jakey Longo loves them long time." He proudly proclaimed.

Proudly, despite calling himself 'Jakey'.

Jake suddenly elongated his torse, increasing in size before drawing close to Archie. Archie could only watch as Jake manipulated his body like a piece of taffy, clearly showing off what exactly made all the 'pretty fillies' love 'Jakey' for a long time.

And of course, he is actually Gray. Thanks oh, universal power for giving this guy powers but y'know, forgetting about ol'Archie. I would have been a great Gray.

"Archie!" Harri's voice suddenly shouted over the crowd as Archie turned to see her approaching.

Oh, thank #%@&, you do care.

He looked skyward again with mock sincerity before returning his attention to Harri's approach. Jake clocked Archie's gaze, immediately following it to Harri before rubbing his hands together eagerly and licking his lips like a lion about to take down a gazelle.

"Oi, this must be your limp dick over here, I've been trying to get him to loosen up, give you a night ya won't get but he's just not buying what I'm selling." Jake called towards Harri, "I'm sure you're a much more reasonable person, I'll even do a twofer."

Why is everyone commenting on my dick today? Is my fly open?

"Oh, every night with Archie is unforgettable. He doesn't need any help in that department" Harri replied, firmly grabbing hold of Archie's arm before getting his behind a playful swat. "Come on, Sugar Boogie, you were taking me dancing."

Archie could feel his body turning stiff as a board. He turned flushed immediately, his face burning worse than when he accidentally got sunburnt falling asleep at the beach. His ears felt like they would explode at any second with the amount of blood coursing through them as all sound turned into a drum line of his own heartbeat racing.

"Eh, forget ya then!" Jake called as Harri hauled Archie away.

"Hey, Junior Partner, you might want to start making your no's a bit firmer." Harri scolded Archie, continuing to escort him back towards the door as the pair entered the club.

"Y-yea-, yes, you're right." Archie nodded slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness before suddenly they were bombarded by a flash of red and orange.
________________________________"Can I borrow fifty bucks?" Harri shouted in his ear over the thumping bassline as they moved further into the club. Archie paused, before nodding as he pulled out his wallet.

"No!" Harri screamed, playfully swatting Archie. "You're supposed to say 'No!', ya dork." She continued to gently swat him to drive her point home. "This is your night, we're here to celebrate you, of course I'm buying."

"Right, okay," Archie replied, nodding his head again. This was his first time inside 'The Haunt' and already he felt overwhelmed and disorientated. Between the volume of the music, the strobing of the lights and people constantly bumping into him. He had to admit, he probably would have enjoyed himself more at home pouring in the pages of the newest 'Crestwood' novel.

You should get her a drink,

"What do you want to drink?" Archie yelled into Harri's ear over the din. Hopefully the gum was still working, he hadn't exactly anticipated having to be this close just to talk.

"Vodka Cran, nothing too fancy." Harri replied. Archie held his hand out, awkwardly standing there for a minute while Harri began to feel the music, waving at some people she moved and disappeared into the crowd.
I guess I am buying.

Archie raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips before exhaling heavily as he made his way through the throng of writhing bodies towards the heavily illuminated bar.

He raised his arms, trying to squeeze between bodies as he made his way up to the bar rail. An elbow here, a shoulder there, Archie flinched each time he was hit, touched or shoved aside while person after person failed to see or acknowledge him, coming and going with their drinks. Finally he made his way to the front, approaching a male bartender who immediately turned around and hung up his apron.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Archie called before trying again.

Sir!?" But it was to no avail as the man left the bar to go for a smoke break. Turning to the next closest bartender, Archie tried to get their attention, but a gaggle of girls butted in front of him and immediately raptured the bartender's attention away from Archie.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Archie spun around, trying to flag another bartender before vocally letting out a cry of frustration.

"Tough night, gorgeous?"

"Tough life." Archie replied without thinking. Turning to the source of the voice, his mouth immediately closed as his face went beat red. The speaker in question looked up at him, batting her long eyelashes that accented the smokey eyes beneath fringe bangs that framed her face. Long, raven hair hung down past her shoulders while perfectly manicured nails tapped on a glass as she prepared to serve him.

"I can relate to that," She replied, not even phased.

"Vodka cran, right? For your friend?" She gestured with her head towards Harri out on the dancefloor. "And for you..." She paused, looking back at Archie. "You were going to tell me, soda water, but now you're thinking you should just man up and have a drink."

Archie's jaw felt like it could fall off.

"Problem is, you don't like the taste of beer and frankly don't understand the appeal of hard liquor. You'd order a cider, but you don't want to look wimpy in front of your 'date'. So you figured a soda water with a lime wedge looks enough like a gin and tonic you get a pass. But you won't actually enjoy it." The woman continued before placing the vodka cocktail on the bar rail.

She cracked open a can of soda behind the counter before grabbing a square shaped bottle off the shelf behind her. Deftly mixing the pair together she placed the dark coloured cocktail beside the one for Harri.

"Coke Zero and Amaretto, it'll taste just like Dr. Pepper and give you enough of a buzz to calm those overactive nerves."

"I don't know what to say," Archie replied.

"Most people say thank you, but you've already been told that today." The woman smiled, "The rest tip well." She winked at Archie before extending a hand.

"Carmilla, you need a refill, you come to me, okay, Archie?"

"Am I dead?" Archie asked, shaking Carmilla's hand.

"No," She giggled, "Why?"

"Just checking," Archie replied, stuffing a fifty in the nearby tip jar before picking up the two glasses. Walking away, he could feel his face doing something funny, like the corners of his mouth were turned upwards.

He kind of liked it.

Wait, how did she know my name?
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>

I am already worried I'm going to be too rusty and my quality is not going to match that which I am seeing, but I will certainly try my damndest to meet that bar.


<Snipped quote by NeoAJ>

Don't worry: imposter syndrome is exactly how you know you belong here, paradoxically.


Exactly, they let me in, so the bar is on the floor.
It is truly a blessed thing to be in an RP where posts keep rolling in before I get caught up.
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.

_
_
_
_
_
Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head

_
_
afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man

_
_
was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,

_
_
over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though

_
_
sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
_
_
_
_
_
_
Now, he is the Warlock they call...




LOCATION: MILK STREET - POINTE BORDEAUX
URBAN GOTHIC #1.02: THE HAUNT

INTERACTIONS: NONE
PREVIOUSLY: HARDIWCK
By six forty-five, Archie had already found himself passing back and forth in front of the 'Haunt'. Everyone in Pointe Bordeaux knew of the Haunt; it wasn't an entirely unfamiliar place to him, though Archie himself had never been inside its doors. He had heard chatter around the office before; it was a regular spot for a cheeky pint after work, but the general consensus always came back to 'it was cool before it became popular'. Still, that didn't stop the bodies from lining the sidewalk in front of the Milk Street club, cigarette smoke hung in the air in both directions from several groups huddled against the brick wall, while the faint thump of the subwoofers rattled the thinly paned glass windows that were basked in crimson and copper glows. While uptown had the likes of 'The Velvet Room', out here in the Peninsula, it was 'The Haunt' that drew people in.

Formerly a bottling facility, like much of Milk Street, the industrial facility had been transformed into something more consumer-friendly. The size of the space even allowed 'The Haunt' to operate a microbrewery, putting out its signature sour beer, 'Schwarzwald', named for the Black Forest in Germany and the sour cherries used to give the beer its distinctive colour and flavour. But scarcely anyone was coming to the Haunt for beer; it was the deals made in dark booths and on the corners of the dancefloor that drew most of the crowd in. It was hardly a secret that Pointe Bordeaux constantly laundered money for the cartel, and local gangs acted as distributors for some of the most potent highs and their fathomless lows.

Archie had worked a summer stint in the district attorney's office. It had been eye-opening just how many trafficking cases the city handled in a summer. It had been gut-wrenching how many were settled in backroom deals or thrown out altogether. He had neither the stomach nor the spine for that line of work and was much happier at Pendelton & Hawking performing contract law.

To his understanding, it paid better too. Criminal law was a thankless line of work.

Continuing to pace back and forth in front of the club, Archie glanced at his watch again before catching his own reflection in one of the aforementioned vibrating windows. He cupped a hand to his mouth, blowing into it before taking a deep whiff. It was still minty fresh, just like it had been a minute ago and the minute before that. Nonetheless, he couldn't be too safe as he pulled a wrapper from his pocket, depositing the barely broken-in piece of gum between the wax paper and exchanging it for a fresh one.

He stretched his legs, shaking out his weak knees before airing his sweaty palms out. A blast of wintermint overwhelmed his nasal cavities. Looking at himself in the window, Archie studied his outfit up and down, second, no third, perhaps even fourth-guessing his choice in wardrobe. What did one wear out for drinks? He had a jacket with him, though he didn't need it; everything he had ever seen told him that Harri wouldn't dress for the weather, and when she found herself cold, Archie would have a jacket to offer her. Should he have worn a tie? Archie fastened the top button of his shirt under the loosely fitted V-necked sweater before unbuttoning it again. He felt naked without the silk sash tied around his neck.

"Ya look nervous, sweetheart," A voice called from nearby, breaking Archie from his train of thought. He turned towards the source of the voice, his eyes glazing over at the sheer number of people around him. With the municipal holidays, 'The Days of Remembrance,' and the funeral for 'The Mountain', there were more people on the streets than usual, making the growing throng quite overwhelming.

"Over here, pretty boy," The voice said again, this time followed by a waved hand as Archie's eyes landed on the grungy-looking young man. Jeans ripped open at the knees hung loosely from his waist, leaving the man's boxer puffed over the top, barely tucked under the second skin-like tank top that looked held in place by a layer of sweat. A layered plaid hung off his shoulders, exposing a dragon tattoo that started at the base of his jaw and travelled down his right arm. A green hoodie was tight around his waist, emblazoned with a familiar logo that Archie recognized from his time with the D.A.'s office.

American Dragons

The Dragons were pill pushers for the cartel; it made Milk Street a rather appealing turf for them. If it was an upper, they were peddling it. A lot of alleged Gray-related crime in the Pointe was falsely reported due to experimental drugs coming in from South America, replicating Gray-like abilities temporarily, leading partiers to have wilder nights than they signed up for. There were numerous speculations as to what the cartel had gotten their hands on to make such a pill. Archie had heard everything from an ancient flower to a super soldier program to even the trafficking and mutilation of other Grays.

"Uh, no." Archie replied, meekly raising a hand, "No, no thank you."

"Hey, hey, let's not be too hasty, no need to be rude about." The Dragon said, taking a step off the wall he was leaning against and moving towards Archie. Behind him, several others suddenly stood up, causing Archie to swallow hard before taking a step back. His eyes darted down to his watch.

Seven Thirty? Where are you, Harri?

"C'mon now, look, I'm just trying to help you. Ya seem like a nervous wreck, I've got just the thing. It'll get ya laid, you'll be able ta go all night. You'll feel amazing, sweetheart, guaranteed and just for you, it's on me tonight."

Yeah, okay buddy, there's no power in the 'verse that's going to get me laid.

"L-l-look," Archie stammered, "I'm a luh, lawyer." He managed. Sometimes it would be nice if his inside voice and his outside voice could switch for a few minutes. Especially in circumstances like this.

"And?" The Dragon scoffed, "You think the lawyers at the Velvet Room are rolling sober? That level of stress, you need what I go. Look at you, clawin' at your neck, looking for the noose that monkey suit comes with. Pretty Boy, I am beggin' ya ta let me help ya out."

Yeah sure, just let me get that high, finally have the swagger to tell Harri how I feel and then we'll go all the way in a dingy club bathroom stall. Boy, you sure are selling the romance out here on the street corner.

"I, I don't think I need your help." Archie replied, taking a step back before the Dragon suddenly lurched forward. He caught Archie, wrapping his arm around the lithe man and guiding him back towards his fellow gang members.

"Look, ya definitely need help, superstar," The Dragon flashed a smile of yellowed teeth, one displayed a predominant chip that had been filled with an obnoxious gold metal. "Just think, if you were a Gray, you could have whatever you want."

Archie shook his head, nearly closing his eyes to prevent the other man from seeing them roll into the back of his head.

Preaching to the choir there, pal. Tell me something I don't know.

"But, I-I'm not Gray." He finally replied, protesting almost a little too loudly.

"But you could be, just for tonight," The Dragon said, "C'mon, you can't tell me you never wanted to know what it feels like."

You did say 'Gray', right?

"You did say 'Gray', right? Archie blurted out. He was met with some raised eyebrows as the other Dragons looked from Archie back to their apparent leader. Archie wanted to run, but his body was frozen, unable to move.

$#!%, inside voice got out. Panicking now.

"Hah! Pretty Boy's got jokes," The Dragon replied, releasing Archie before standing wide-armed in front of his posse. "But all the pretty fillies on da Milk Street know that Jakey Longo loves them long time." He proudly proclaimed.

Proudly, despite calling himself 'Jakey'.

Jake suddenly elongated his torse, increasing in size before drawing close to Archie. Archie could only watch as Jake manipulated his body like a piece of taffy, clearly showing off what exactly made all the 'pretty fillies' love 'Jakey' for a long time.

And of course, he is actually Gray. Thanks oh, universal power for giving this guy powers but y'know, forgetting about ol'Archie. I would have been a great Gray.

"Archie!" Harri's voice suddenly shouted over the crowd as Archie turned to see her approaching.

Oh, thank #%@&, you do care.

He looked skyward again with mock sincerity before returning his attention to Harri's approach. Jake clocked Archie's gaze, immediately following it to Harri before rubbing his hands together eagerly and licking his lips like a lion about to take down a gazelle.

"Oi, this must be your limp dick over here, I've been trying to get him to loosen up, give you a night ya won't get but he's just not buying what I'm selling." Jake called towards Harri, "I'm sure you're a much more reasonable person, I'll even do a twofer."

Why is everyone commenting on my dick today? Is my fly open?

"Oh, every night with Archie is unforgettable. He doesn't need any help in that department" Harri replied, firmly grabbing hold of Archie's arm before getting his behind a playful swat. "Come on, Sugar Boogie, you were taking me dancing."

Archie could feel his body turning stiff as a board. He turned flushed immediately, his face burning worse than when he accidentally got sunburnt falling asleep at the beach. His ears felt like they would explode at any second with the amount of blood coursing through them as all sound turned into a drum line of his own heartbeat racing.

"Eh, forget ya then!" Jake called as Harri hauled Archie away.

"Hey, Junior Partner, you might want to start making your no's a bit firmer." Harri scolded Archie, continuing to escort him back towards the door as the pair entered the club.

"Y-yea-, yes, you're right." Archie nodded slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness before suddenly they were bombarded by a flash of red and orange.
________________________________"Can I borrow fifty bucks?" Harri shouted in his ear over the thumping bassline as they moved further into the club. Archie paused, before nodding as he pulled out his wallet.

"No!" Harri screamed, playfully swatting Archie. "You're supposed to say 'No!', ya dork." She continued to gently swat him to drive her point home. "This is your night, we're here to celebrate you, of course I'm buying."

"Right, okay," Archie replied, nodding his head again. This was his first time inside 'The Haunt' and already he felt overwhelmed and disorientated. Between the volume of the music, the strobing of the lights and people constantly bumping into him. He had to admit, he probably would have enjoyed himself more at home pouring in the pages of the newest 'Crestwood' novel.

You should get her a drink,

"What do you want to drink?" Archie yelled into Harri's ear over the din. Hopefully the gum was still working, he hadn't exactly anticipated having to be this close just to talk.

"Vodka Cran, nothing too fancy." Harri replied. Archie held his hand out, awkwardly standing there for a minute while Harri began to feel the music, waving at some people she moved and disappeared into the crowd.
I guess I am buying.

Archie raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips before exhaling heavily as he made his way through the throng of writhing bodies towards the heavily illuminated bar.

He raised his arms, trying to squeeze between bodies as he made his way up to the bar rail. An elbow here, a shoulder there, Archie flinched each time he was hit, touched or shoved aside while person after person failed to see or acknowledge him, coming and going with their drinks. Finally he made his way to the front, approaching a male bartender who immediately turned around and hung up his apron.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Archie called before trying again.

Sir!?" But it was to no avail as the man left the bar to go for a smoke break. Turning to the next closest bartender, Archie tried to get their attention, but a gaggle of girls butted in front of him and immediately raptured the bartender's attention away from Archie.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Archie spun around, trying to flag another bartender before vocally letting out a cry of frustration.

"Tough night, gorgeous?"

"Tough life." Archie replied without thinking. Turning to the source of the voice, his mouth immediately closed as his face went beat red. The speaker in question looked up at him, batting her long eyelashes that accented the smokey eyes beneath fringe bangs that framed her face. Long, raven hair hung down past her shoulders while perfectly manicured nails tapped on a glass as she prepared to serve him.

"I can relate to that," She replied, not even phased.

"Vodka cran, right? For your friend?" She gestured with her head towards Harri out on the dancefloor. "And for you..." She paused, looking back at Archie. "You were going to tell me, soda water, but now you're thinking you should just man up and have a drink."

Archie's jaw felt like it could fall off.

"Problem is, you don't like the taste of beer and frankly don't understand the appeal of hard liquor. You'd order a cider, but you don't want to look wimpy in front of your 'date'. So you figured a soda water with a lime wedge looks enough like a gin and tonic you get a pass. But you won't actually enjoy it." The woman continued before placing the vodka cocktail on the bar rail.

She cracked open a can of soda behind the counter before grabbing a square shaped bottle off the shelf behind her. Deftly mixing the pair together she placed the dark coloured cocktail beside the one for Harri.

"Coke Zero and Amaretto, it'll taste just like Dr. Pepper and give you enough of a buzz to calm those overactive nerves."

"I don't know what to say," Archie replied.

"Most people say thank you, but you've already been told that today." The woman smiled, "The rest tip well." She winked at Archie before extending a hand.

"Carmilla, you need a refill, you come to me, okay, Archie?"

"Am I dead?" Archie asked, shaking Carmilla's hand.

"No," She giggled, "Why?"

"Just checking," Archie replied, stuffing a fifty in the nearby tip jar before picking up the two glasses. Walking away, he could feel his face doing something funny, like the corners of his mouth were turned upwards.

He kind of liked it.

Wait, how did she know my name?
Once was a man who lived a life so mundane, it could only be true.

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Practically invisible to the world around him, life carries on while he felt perpetually stuck treading water just to keep his head

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afloat. Fortunately for the man, fate had different ideas and intervened with a heavy hand. Pushed into a corner, the man

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was driven to hide amongst dusty shelves and heavy tomes. In the silence, he could hear his name being whispered,

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over and over again, until his hand touched one particular opus. A worn book, bound in leather and tarnished steel. Though

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sealed, it opened for a price, and upon spreading its pages, the man's life was changed forever.
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Now, he is the Warlock they call...




LOCATION: MILK STREET - POINTE BORDEAUX
URBAN GOTHIC #1.01: HARDWICK

INTERACTIONS: NONE
PREVIOUSLY: NONE
His fingers rubbed across his closed eyelids, pushing his glasses atop his forehead while he futily attempted to massage the exhaustion from his tired eyes. Bloodshot green eyes reopened, looking back at the computer screen in front of him, the high-definition monitor somehow managing to look like a Windows '98 resolution as Archibald Hardwick's eyes immediately resumed burning despite his effort. The text began to blur, prompting an exasperated sigh before Archied leaned back and looked towards the ceiling. A stretch from the bottom of his soul came out of his chest and into his shoulders while he laced his fingers behind his head briefly before his right hand began fumbling across the desk towards a small bottle of eye drops.

It was only Tuesday, and the week already felt longer than most. A large patent case had come in, and Archie was put in charge of cross-referencing the plaintiff's design to ensure their client actually had a case. Discovery had started nearly a week ago and worked through the weekend and late every night. It was thankless work, but he knew they would need to be extraordinarily thorough if they wanted to get the defendant's case thrown out before their lawyers found enough to settle.

"Slack off on your own time, stretch." A voice sneered, appearing behind Archie and startling him. Nearly jumping out of his skin, his hand slammed down on the desk, sending the nearby stack of files crashing to the floor before the vial of eye drops fell from his hand and freely rolled away before lodging themselves firmly under a nearby filing cabinet.

"So jumpy," Archie turned to the source of the voice, biting the inside of his cheek while nursing his right hand. Behind Archie was Tiffany, the office administrator, holding a file with a red stamp across the front. Her heavily glossed lips smacked obnoxiously on a matching shade of pink bubble gum before she extended the folder towards Archie.

"Cheryl denied your overtime request," Tiffany said, the corner of her mouth struggling not to upturn into a smirk.

"I submitted it to Robert, I worked those hours, my key card is logged in." Archie protested, looking over the printout of his weekend and evening hours.

"Budget's tight right now, and work has to be done." Tiffany shrugged, "Tough luck, I guess." She clicked her heels, adjusting the pencil skirt that hung like a second skin over her legs.

"Oh, and Cheryl wants to see you in her office. But if I were you, I'd probably just pack your desk up and leave. Or don't, I like watching a good sacking, hun."

"Are you this awful to everyone?"

"No, just scrawny little pencil dicks that think they're too good for everyone."

"I don't-"

"Save it, Cheryl's probably fuming, she said to send you over ASAP, but I waited thirty minutes to relay that message, so you're welcome." Tiffany smiled coldly.

"Seriously?"

"Uh, duh. Now move your pasty little ass, Cheryl's been kept waiting long enough." Tiffany scoffed, "Honestly, I don't know why Harri puts up with you."

Harri. Harriet Lynd, the girl next door. From the corner of his eye, Archie could see Harri from across the office. She had pulled some strings to get him in the door; the pair had been friends since the day Archie's foster parents had brought him home. The girl from across the street, Archie had been smitten from the moment Harri had hit him in the face with a basketball.

Frankly, I don't know either.

Archie's head clouded with thoughts as he stood from his desk; his chest felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. Was he about to be fired? He needed this job; it was all that set him apart from where he had come from. He wasn't a bad employee; he was never late, never took off early. In fact, Archie had never even taken a vacation or sick day in the five years he had worked at Pendelton & Hawking.

His hand shook as he raised it to knock on Cheryl's door. Should he knock? Archie hesitated. If he were summoned, shouldn't he just go in? He was already invited; what need was there to knock? He put his hand on the door handle, pushing down on it before panicking and taking a step back. Raising a loose fist, Archie meekly knocked on the frosted glass embossed with the 'Cheryl Lockhart, Senior Partner'.

"Enter," Cheryl called from the other side of the door, prompting Archie to take a deep breath and turn the handle. Gingerly pushing the door open, he watched Cheryl take a seat at her desk before the pair briefly stared at one another as Archie froze in the doorway.

"Archibald, are you planning on coming in?" Cheryl asked, "You look like you're debating between slamming the door or jumping through my window." She stated, turning in her chair to look at the skyline behind her. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it? Almost uncommon to see the sky as empty as it is today."

She spun back around, a soft smile crossing her lips before she beckoned Archie forward.

"Please, take a seat, Archibald."

"Ma'am, I am so sorry-"

"I know Tiffany didn't relay my message." Cheryl interupted, raising a hand, "And I know, you're probably wondering why I denied your overtime."

"No, Ma'am, I completely unders-"

"Cut the bullshit," Cheryl interjected, she placed her hands in front of herself on the desk that separated her from Archie. "Look, I know you think the work you do around her goes unnoticed, but it doesn't. You've been with us for a while, Archibald and never moved past associate."

Archie nodded as Cheryl paused.

"Five years, that's a long time to remain an associate." She commented before opening a file on her desk. "I see that you studied locally, joined directly out of school. Lynd put in a word for you, you know, she made junior partner in under a year."

"Everyone has always thought highly of Harriet."

"Why do you think that is?" Cheryl asked, leaning back in her chair as Archie stared at her like a deer in headlights. His mind went blank. Normally, he could list off a dozen reasons why Harri was great, but suddenly, now in front of one of the senior partners, none of those reasons felt relevant.

C'mon, you're a lawyer, damnit. Act like one.

"She's confident in everything she does," Archie answered. He wanted to be sick; his heart was trying to escape through his ribcage, while he felt like the pits of his shirt had to be a different colour from the rest of it at this point due to perspiration.

"Confidence is a key attribute in this line of work, one that you're certainly lacking," Cheryl replied, her lips pursed together. "However, you're not without your merits, Archibald. You are, without a doubt, the most thorough of my associates, and I've been looking through your preliminary work on the Hawthorne case, and even I must say it's exemplary."

"Then why are you letting me go?" Archie blurted out. His eyes widened at his own words before he covered his mouth.

"Letting you go?" Cheryl raised an eyebrow before gently massaging her forehead. "Ah, Tiffany..." She shook her head.

"No, Archibald. I am not letting you go. I want to give you an opportunity." Cheryl explained. "I want you to personally handle the Hawthorne case and, if you win, I'd like to extend an offer to you as Junior Partner, with your work on the Hawthorne case retroactively paid at your new rate." She smiled, extending a hand towards Archie.

"That's why I denied your paperwork."

"I, I don't know what to say." He answered, weakly gripping her hand before she squeezed and gave his arm a good shake.

"Most people start with thank you, you might want to start by working on your handshake." Cheryl replied, "That said, Archibald, I will warn you that the consequences will be dire should you not win this case for us. We would have to reconsider your time at this firm if you can't win a case after five years. Think of this as your big break, though, with your talents and attention to detail, if you apply yourself and push outside of your comfort zone, I think you could catch up to your peers."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Archie nodded, "I won't let you down."

"I'm counting on it, Archibald." Cheryl replied, motioning towards the door. "You're dismissed. Oh, and I should mention, I want this settled by next week."

"Yes, Ma'am," Archie replied, backing out of the room with a bow of his head before continuing backwards into the hallway. Taking another step, her turned and bumped directly into Tiffany, barely stopping himself from toppling face-first into her before an outstretched arm caught the nearby wall, leading to Archie bracing overtop of Tiffany.

He had never realized how good her perfume smelled.

"So, Junior Partner? Congrats, pencil dick, it's about time. You want a quick blow in the closet?" Tiffany offered, her dry tone escaping Archie's notice.

"I, uh-" He stammered awkwardly, looking around as a few of the others began to stare.

"That wasn't a genuine offer, asshole." Tiffany rolled her eyes as Archie just awkwardly stared at her. "Lawyers," She exhaled sharply through her mouth, "I'd need at least five shots of tequila before I'd even consider it." She muttered, "See you around, pencil dick."

"Junior Partner?" Another voice asked from behind Archie. He turned to greet Harri, who threw her arms around Archie, giving him a quick squeeze before pumping her fists excitedly.

"We have to go out and celebrate!" Harri said, reaching up on her tiptoes to tousle Archie's hair. "You've been waiting for this day for so long. It'll be my treat, 'The Haunt' tonight at seven?" She asked. Archie could barely hear her over the sound of his heart pumping blood as it thumped around his ears.

"C'mon, Arch, you never go out and have any fun, it'll be good to blow off some steam. Just you, me and maybe a couple others from work." Harri said, tapping on Archie's tie with a well-manicured finger.

"M-m-maybe just one drink," Archie replied weakly.

"Oh, you're having at least two," Harri replied playfully, "And try to be late, no one is early to their own shindig."

"You know I can't do that," Archie replied, attempting to match Harri's playfulness, full well knowing he was serious.

"I really can't, can I?" He muttered under his breath, turning around. His head was spinning; the events of the afternoon had left him feeling like he had whiplash. Junior Partner and Harri wanted to go out with him? Everything was finally coming up Hardwick.

Where was his desk again?
<Snipped quote by DocTachyon>

Wonder how many colour tags a single post could handle...


Wonder how many colour tags a single post could handle...
Better not let Sep read it. He might find some new formatting in there and break the site again.


In all fairness, it was the originator of the dreaded table bomb.
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