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RPG The Sleepers: A Lonely Wandering


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[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i][b][center]The Brotherhood of Eternal Repose
Heir Apparent: Ginling Ling-Sum as "The Silver Fairy"
NPC: Sen, Ling-Sum's maidservant
NPC: The Bear General Ginling Xia-Liu

The Sisterhood Of The Serpent
Liu Fenghui as "Jade Servant of the August Personage"
Lady Mu-Rong Zhenzhen as "Lady of A Hundred Paces"
Male Prostitute: Gan Xingba as "Jade Serpent"
Male Prostitute Fei Xen as "Black Claw"
Madam Yang Meili as "Yellow Plum
Female Prostitute Tseng Zhen-Yin the "Obsidian Butterfly"

Free Agent
Mercenary Fei Wo Han as "The Crimson Steed"
Half Breed Gabriel Yu

Officer Of The Law, SFPD
Detective Lieutenant Sebastien Bastien" Besson


The rain was incessant now, and on the penthouse floor of the Brotherhood of Eternal Repose, a beautiful girl sat on a white leather chaise lounge, her legs stretched out, ankles tapering to well proportioned and manicured toes. Designer wedge sandals blended neatly with her almost peasant style Western dress, and her maidservant was dressed in a slightly more subdued version. The two were waiting patiently, for half an hour now, but the rain was most likely the reason for the nearly inexcusable delay. Her father was never late. The Bear General would sooner sacrifice a finger or possibly even a hand, in order to avoid tardiness. And eventually the wide french doors leading to the hallway and elevator opened. Two well dressed suits walked into the room, earbuds not even apparent. They nodded politely to their employer's daughter and then turned to flank the entryway.

Another manservant followed, this time right on the heels of the Bear General, Xia-Liu, loving father, ruthless leader, cunning CEO of multi-national corporations. He opened his arms to his daughter, and she rushed to him, the better to be embraced by arms that were likewise embraced by a five thousand dollar suit from Los Angeles.[/i]

"Baba! You're terribly late! Dinner has gone cold."

"Oh come now, surely I'm not quite that late."

"You are! The cook must have hung himself by now in despair."

"I'm sure we can replace him. Tea please."

[i]Freeing himself gently, Xia-Liu turned and accepted the cup of Oo Loong from his daughter's maidservant. Taking a healthy gulp, despite the temperature, he sighed with pleasure and took his daughter's arm, leading her into the dining room. Sitting closer to each other, rather at opposite ends, the meal began immediately, with the cook, surprisingly alive, serving everything with the sort of silent slavish devotion that one normally saw in an expensive restaurant. Not only did he disappear as soon as he'd served the soup, but he'd also managed to refresh their glasses of water, and somehow pour the plum wine in the bargain. Some days, their employees earned their mildly embarrassing salaries.

Conversing quietly, father and daughter talked of their mutual business concerns, and once more, Xia-Liu marveled at the daughter he had been blessed with. Not only was she as unfrivolous as a woman could possibly be, she was also smart enough to know a good venture from a bad one, and capable of holding the reins of power in his increasingly common absences. All that remained was her future marriage and production of a healthy male heir to his fortunes. He had no doubts that his daughter would fulfill his desires in the fullness of time.

When dinner concluded with the obligatory slices of fresh fruit and still more tea, Xia-Liu brought out a package for her that his manservant had patiently been holding all throughout dinner.[/i]

"I hope you wear this for tomorrow night's function."

"As long as it isn't a funeral shroud."

[i]Sen opened the box for her mistress and held up a shimmering chi pao in silken silver and gold threads, with heavy brocade embroidery at the hems and throat. Ling-Sum, as unspoiled as an only child could possibly be, let her hands flutter uncertainly and look to her father as if for permission to touch such a gift.[/i]

"Oh Baba, you've been in the garment districts again!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"People will think you've gone [i]tongxinglian[/i]."

"Nonsense, every father needs to give something like this to his daughter, especially before an important meeting."


[i]She kissed his cheek gently and swept up both Sen and her gift on her way to her rooms. There she sat at her vanity table, undoing the pins in her elaborate chingon, while Sen put away her present. As her hair came undone to swirl around her face in a dark cloud, she sighed with a certain sort of melancholy and shook her head quickly to clear it.[/i]

"Hot water please Sen. The lavender this time."

"Of course."

[i]With alacrity, Sen turned to the bathroom that was meant to be Ling-Sum's, but happily shared with her supposed servant, and began the process of filling the inlaid bathtub with both water hot enough to boil eggs, and lavender scented chips. As the steam began to occlude the mirrors, Ling-Sum allowed Sen to help unzip her high necked dress, then help her down the rather slippery steps into the water. Such was the perogative of the rich. They could afford beautiful things that one could slip on and then break their very rich necks upon.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]
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Violent murder and sexual intercourse hold more similarities than most people realize. The repeated thrusting of phallic objects, heavy breathing, grunts and groans, penetration, perspiration, the expulsion of bodily fluids... all culminating in that final, satisfying climax to be closely followed by a feeling of either catharsis, shame, or an odd mixture of both. The French have an interesting metaphor for orgasm, [i]le petit mort[/i], the little death, used to describe that spiritual release found in climax, like a brief glimpse into [i]le grand mort[/i]. It is no wonder that the most vial serial killers happen to also be some of the most sexually perverse individuals, capable of finding that same gratifying release in the face of death. It is that same feeling of release that Gan Xingba had become addicted to.

Yet again, Xingba had found himself objectified, given as a gift of good will to a visiting business associate from Shanghai by a San Francisco based business. That was all Xingba was allowed to know, all that he should know, and all that he needed to know. Xingba was in luck that it was not one of the same portly, middle-aged executives heâ??d often found himself servicing in the high-rise, five-star hotels of San Francisco. Heâ??d waited, dressed sparingly on the bed when the young business man entered his room, startled at first. It didnâ??t take long for him to unwrap his gift. He mustâ??ve been in his late twenties, pushing thirty. Handsome, a body that had been taken care of, a groomed face for the corporation he worked for. A pure bred, molded to be the perfect, imposing representative for a powerful company. His aggressive nature carried over well into the bed as Xingba was currently experiencing. His customer was strong, the kind of lover that Xingba quite enjoyed. Thrust, grunt, moan, penetration, dripping heat, vigorous motion, thrusting, deep, yes, deeply, thrusting, and then... Ah yes, that feeling, the escape of life, that gasping breathe they both enjoyed as if it were their last, they savored it together. And then it was done.

For a moment, both bodyâ??s lay together, Xingba lay with his slender limbs draped over the business manâ??s larger frame, frosted with sweat like blades of grass covered by a thin layer of morning dew. Xingba traced his thin fingers down the length of the manâ??s still heaving chest and abdomen and placed a light kiss on his neck. His breathing settled and soon he fell into a slumber, signaling Xingbaâ??s leave. Slithering gently from the bed, he lightly placed sheets over his customerâ??s damp body, then grabbing his black messenger bag, walked into the bathroom. He began to run hot water from the sink, wet a washcloth, and proceed to wipe the lubricant, sweat, and semen from his body. He then dressed himself in black, low-cut skinny jeans secured by a black-studded belt followed by a darker button-up shirt, which was only buttoned to his sternum, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and finally an all black pair of slip on sneakers. He then produced a vial of cologne from his bag and peppered himself with it, then sprayed a shot onto his right wrist, rubbing it with his left, and then dragging both down the sides of his neck. Xingba placed the cologne back into his bag and then took out lip-gloss and eyeliner, applied both patiently, and then placed them back. Finished with his cosmetic rebirth, he grabbed his bag and quietly made his exit. Prostitution and assassination, like sex and murder, are also very similar. Both are often a thankless job.

Navigating through the elegant hallways of the luxury hotel, Xingba found his way to the elevator. When it arrived, he was greeted by a small group of executives, dressed in various ruffled designer suits, returning from a night out. They had the appearance of the same portly, middle-aged customers heâ??d serviced before. Maybe, he thought, one of the men had been one of his customers. One would think they all were, as they ceased their jovial conversation upon laying eyes on Xingbaâ??s androgynous figure. [b] â??Excuse me gentlemenâ?¦â?[/b] he spoke in a whisper, floating into the elevator past their bodies as they all awkwardly exited onto the floor together. Xingba pressed the ground-floor button and waited. The group of men continued to stare as the doors closed, to which Xingba replied with a wink and a coy smirk just as the elevator sealed and began its decent.

Upon reaching the lobby, Xingba stepped out and produced his cellular phone and speed-dialed the Lady of a Hundred Paces. It hardly took a single ring for the Lady to answer.

[b] â??Hello, Xingba.â?

â??My Ladyâ?¦â?

â??I take it you have completed your assignment?â?

â??Yes, my Lady.â?

â??Very good, Xingba. Hurry back home now, we have things to discuss.â?

â??Yes, my Lady.â?[/b]


Xingba exited the front doors with the visible stares of the door man. His car had been parked across the street, a sleek black sports-luxury sedan. Just one of the many perks of his job. Entering the vehicle, Xingba placed the keys into the ignition followed by a compliant purr. Pressing a button on the stereo system, fast, chiming, upbeat guitars accompanied by blasting drums pumped through the speakers. As Xingba drove onto the road and made his way to home base he shouted along with the first yell of the lyrics.

[b] â??Iâ??VE GOT WAR ON MY MIND!â?[/b]

[/size] Edited by Zen
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Xen smiled, gazing across the room filled with now sleeping children, innocence written all over their peaceful faces. Xen's smile faded, remembering what they had learned earlier that day as he closed the book of children's bedtime stories.

Xen had taught them how to clean and service various kinds of hand held pistols and a sniper rifle. As per his orders.... Xen had never been too fond of teaching the children the art of war.

But, now Xen sighed, and walked over to tuck in one of the children, his smile returning. After, he turned on the various nightlights around the room. The door to the room opened slightly, and Xen turned to see one of the servants of the house looking in. Xen nodded, acknowledging the servant. He closed the door, allowing Xen to finish his duties for the night.

When finished and with one last look to the sleeping children, Xen exited the room and shut the door gently behind him. Turning to his left, he came face to face with the servant.

"The Lady wishes to see you, Master Xen."

Xen's eyebrow lifted. "Does she now? What an honor to be requested personally by her. Inform the Lady I will be with her as soon as my relief shows up."

The servant bowed, and spoke once more. "I am to be your relief tonight."

"Ah. Well then. I guess I'll go see her then." Xen turned around, waving a peace sign over his shoulder as a means to say good-bye.

Walking along the hallway, he could see various comings and goings of the people. There was always a hustle here, one always had work to do in a city as corrupt as San Francisco. Xen snorted in contempt at his thoughts. People moved hurridly to get out of his way as he walked, they obviously terrified of him. Or rather, his reputation for slaughter. On reaching the office of the Lady, Xen knocked on the door. While he waited to be let in, Xen noticed people staring at him, condemning looks on their faces while they whispered about him. Xen turned his eyes to them, and they gasped and practically ran away from him.

"Come in!"

Xen leisurly opened the door, and walked over to a wall to lean on, as there were three people besides the Lady already in the room. Xen watched with mild interest as they discussed a 'problem' that they needed taken care of. From what Xen could make out, someone had tipped off the cops about one of the Sisterhood's many blackmarket deals, and so they had lost a tidy sum of cash and plenty of materials had been stolen at the same time. Someone had wanted to try to cover up something, and had done so poorly.

Apparently, they wanted to make an example of the guy. [I]Poor bastard...[/I]Xen thought to himself.

Xen finally spoke. "And this is where I come in? Are you sure you want me to handle it?" Xen's mouth curled into a sinister smile. "It might get a little messy." he held up his hand, guesturing a tiny amount. "Just a little." Xen raised his eyebrows, his expression one of cruel merriment.

The Lady smiled, clicking her fingernails on the desk. "That's the point. However, if you would also be so kind as to get information out him pertaining to any accomplices, that would be most helpful."

Xen shrugged. "Fine then. Don't be surprised if I get a little too excited and forget about that part, though."

Xen was handed a file with everything he needed to know, and parted with his orders. He stopped off at the arms room, picking up a few things to help him. He placed them into a violin case made especially for such jobs, and off he went to handle the task assigned to him. Such tasks were given to him often, as it seemed he had no heart or compassion. In truth, he had plenty, though it was simply rare for him to show it. Xen was never too surprised by people's reactions to him, nor their inability to understand him, nor did he care.


Xen hailed a taxi to go the Beiruit Hotel, where his target was staying. The man had ordered a 'date' so Xen had the perfect cover to approach the man. What made matters even easier was that his target was into bondage. What would be difficult would be controling himself long enough to 'extract' the info the Lady wanted. That in itself wouldn't be too hard... Though, as Xen had stated earlier, it would be messy.

And so Xen began his ascent up to the hotel room, thinking of just how this time he should go about buisness. The violent approach was always fun, though in such a setting as a hotel not entirely wise. His target could get away. And while Xen enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, he already had the element of surprise, which made the job as sweet as candy. "Ah well. Fuck it." Xen said aloud, and emerged from the stairwell onto the floor his target was staying on. Looking around, he could see a single security camera. Thankfully, he had put on a wig and sunglasses before leaving the Sisterhood safehouse. The quality of the security camera was poor at best, he had undertaken many jobs here, both for pleasures of the flesh and those which involved someone dying. Xen had never been caught yet... though it never hurt to be that much more careful and it paid to not get cocky.

Xen thought it amusing just how bad the cops had it to cover up all of the hits this hotel had bore witness to.

Sighing happily, Xen knocked on the door of room 619, in which the hotel staff would soon have to a lot of redecorating to do, most likely including repainting the walls.

A burly, hairy, and overweight man answered the door, and he peeked out at Xen, who smiled and spoke. "I do beleive you ordered the Pain Special... I'll be your server tonight." Xen clacked his pearly whites, smiling viciously, enticing the man all the more.

"Oh... It's you... Come in then." He moved for Xen to come inside, and as soon as he shut the door, Xen grasped him by the arm and brought the man to his knees.

"You'll find I don't waste time, and I get right down to buisness." Xen smiled, his ferousity shining though. Reaching over, Xen flicked the lock on the door, and twisted the man's arm to get him to stand up. Already, the man had an errection, tiny as it was.

"Now, isn't that cute... And I haven't even started yet." Xen yanked harshly, and the man yelped in pain and pleasure. "Now, lead me to the bedroom like a good little boy..."

"Have I been bad?"

"Oh yes... Very bad... You need to be punished... And I'm just the one to do it."

Xen was led to the bedroom, as he had ordered the man to do. When safely inside, Xen kicked the man onto the bed, and opened his violin case. Xen pulled out several pairs of handcuffs, and threw them on the bed. "You know how to use those? Use them to cuff yourself to the bed. Then we can have some real fun." Xen giggled, and lifted a ball gag from the violin case. "Are you familiar with one of these? I'm going to use it on you." Xen cocked his head, an evil smile playing on his lips. "Aren't you the lucky little boy?"

The man handcuffed himself face down on the bed, which made Xen's job that much easier. Xen shrugged, thinking this was going to be a new one. Torturing someone who got off on it... Yeah. Definitely a new one for him. But, who knows? Maybe this would be fun for both of them.

When the man was finished, Xen pulled the ball gag around the man's head, fastening it tight. Then, Xen removed a whip from the violin case, and proceeded to rip into the man's flesh with it. The violent cracks of the whip seemed only to spur Xen on, the man's muffled cries of extasy growing ever more louder.

"Well, I beleive we've had our fun. Now it's time for buisness." Xen laughed again, pullling this time a blade from the violin case. The man could only make a confused and muffled noise.

Xen ran the point of the blade along his targets skin, the cold, sharp, and wicked looking metal making the man freeze. "What's the matter? Your blood running cold? You should have known I would be the one sent... Oh... You thought we wouldn't find out about you being a little tattle tale and a theif did you?" Xen giggled again, and ran the blade through the man's skin, carving him like a holiday turkey. Xen's target began to tremble, his fear of the monster who had him helpless quite obvious.

Blood began to well in the slice Xen had made, though it was no where near enough to cause death. The target was eerily silent now, though his shaking body was a tell tale sign he was deathly afraid. Xen dangled the slice of skin in front of the man's eyes to make an unspoken point. Xen got off the man, and smiled again.

"Can I ask you a few questions? And get answers? You know you're going to die anyway, so there's really no point in holding out on me. I can make this hurt in a bad way, you know. You've already seen how much i make it hurt good. Do you really want to try me?"

Xen sliced off another chunk of skin, though this time he cut deep enough to cause some serious damage, hacking away muscle as well from the man's arm. Tears began to flow from the target's eyes, which Xen played to his advantage.

"Are you scared? I would be, too, if I was in your position. Will you talk for me? I promise I won't-" Xen slid the knife again into muscle and skin,"-hurt you anymore than I already have, and I'll make your death quick and painless. I promise."

The poor fool nodded, and Xen flicked the ball gag off, and instantly grasped the man's tongue, pulling it out of his mouth, and holding the blade to it. "Remember, I can just as easily hack you apart even if you scream for help."

Letting go, Xen took a step back, sitting on one of the elaborate chairs. "Talk."

Throught his sobs, the mand managed to speak, knowing Xen would indeed hold true to his word. "I was with Mez... Fodston... Hua.... and some other guys I didn't know. We got tired.... of putting up with shit.... Hua and I... handled the legal...bullshit."

"Why did you do it? For what reason?"

"We... were... broke..."

Xen sighed. "As members of the Sisterhood, you should have known you could have asked for something. If you've pulled your weight, then you would have gotten it."

"I... wanted... a quickie...buck..."

"And you got more than your money's worth." Xen shrugged, and walked over to the Violin case. He tugged a leather strap, removing the false bottom and pulled out a gun and a silencer. Screwing on the silencer, he then aimed the gun at the man's head. "So. I thank you for your time... And now it's time to say good-bye." Placing the gun to the target's head, Xen smiled. "Think of this as my mercy. Any last words? No? Too bad. Be sure to tell the devil hello for me, and that I'll be there soon, to join you."

Xen's words were nothing but a cruel joke to torment a victim he cared nothing for. He held not an ounce of compassion, knowing the scum had probably been responsible for countless other wrong doings and deaths, most of them probably innocent to some degree. Xen pulled the trigger, putting the target out of his misery. Such was Xen's own brand of mercy. He quickly went about his buisness, hacking off more skin and mutilating the man. Taking out a camera, he began to take pictures, which would seriously deter people from making the same mistake this particular bastard did, especially when the pictures would be sent to the local newspapers...

Finished with his work, Xen changed his clothes and left, taking his toys with him. Come morning, it would headlines what had happened here. With the body still warm and the blood fresh when Xen carved him up and strew the peices, it would look all that much more gruesome. Xen's reputation coudln't get much worse than it already was in the underworld of crime.
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[SIZE=1]The unlit cigarette hung between his lips in an almost obnoxious manner, the rain pelting down had ruined it before Bastien had had a chance to savour his daily nicotine hit, probably for the best anyway he thought ruefully. Spitting it out and grinding it with his left foot into the dirt he returned his attention to his assailant. He supposed this kind of thing might?ve happened less if he was on the take, the SFPD had over the years degenerated into as much a criminal element as any of the others, specialising in protection, racketeering and murder if one had the cash. Having grown up with nothing money had never meant much to Bastien. It was just a means to an end: better suits, better cars, fancier fucks, the value of money was all in the mind and he had better things to be doing that keeping up with the Jones?.

The laser-dot of the man?s weapon hovered over Bastien?s heart, his own pistol pressing in an almost mocking manner against his spine. It wasn?t the first hit put out against him, not even the first of the month, but what made this one remarkable was how amateurish this one seemed to be, a single gunman on his return from picking up a litre of milk from the corner store...it was actually pretty insulting. Unconsciously he felt his mouth shift into a small smile, although he?d taken steps to try to hide his identity, which meant he was small-time and this was personal, Bastien figured he was a kid of no more than eighteen and probably Asian from the skin-tone he?d caught a glimpse of when he?d forced the kid to shift to re-centre the laser for a fatal shot.

More than likely he was a relative of one of the guys he?d busted the week before for a prostitution ring, small fish trying to swim in a big sea, guys who should?ve been damn glad they?d not been dealt with by the Serpents for trying to take a piece of their territory. Such was cause and effect however, it didn?t matter what would?ve happened to them, he was responsible for this hood?s brother being forced to serve time, or come up with a large enough bribe for the judge to grant leniency. His nicotine craving reared for a moment, the need for the toxin to invade his lungs and grant him the rush of clarity and focus, brushing it off he raised his hands in a placating manner.

[B]?Kid I want you to think about what you?re doing here for a second.?

?I know exactly what I?m doing you fucking pig.?
His voice cracked, his hand shook causing the laser dot to fluctuate around Bastien?s chest. The kid was a mess, a jumble of emotions heaving through his system, pride and fear keeping his feet firmly glued between Bastien and his apartment. He?d probably been drunk or high, maybe both, when he?d made the decision on the confrontation, that elevated sense of strength and power having quickly faded the moment he realised Bastien would have no qualms about killing him if he wavered for even a second.

[B]?Do you? Say you actually do pull that trigger and somehow manage to kill me, what do you thinks going to happen afterwards??[/B]

Bastien?s tone hardened as the kid offered no answer in return, merely licking his lips nervously.

[B]?You?ll be a dead man walking. While I?m not particularly liked within the SFPD, something about doing my job and not growing fat off kick-backs and protection money, they hate a cop-killer. They?ll figure out who you are and then they?ll get nasty, you, your family, your friends, all dead as a message: Do not fuck with the SFPD.?[/B]

Bastien pulled up his cigarette for the following day and lit it and sated his growing craving, puffing out a thick stream of smoke.

[B]?Like I said though, I?m one of those mythic ?honest? cops you hear about from time to time, I busted your brother before the Serpents got to him and his buddies because if I hadn?t, well, it would?ve been more complicated for everyone. So when a little piss-ant with you, filled with righteous indignation crosses my path with a pistol in hand telling me he knows exactly what he?s fucking doing, it has a tendency to make me consider a less honourable outlook on life.?[/B]

Inhaling again he watched as the wheels slowly turned in the kid?s head and fear overtook balls. The laser-dot dropped from his chest to the ground between them, enough time for Bastien to pull his own gun free and pump a round into the kid?s shoulder. The pistol clattered to the ground as he brought his hand up to try to stem the growing bloodloss, crossing the distance between them Bastien delivered a sharp snap-kick to his chest sending him reeling over onto the concrete. Leaning down and grinding his pistol into the kid?s forehead Bastien allowed a small amount of hot ash to fall into his face.

[B]?Like I said, they?d kill you, I?m just going to leave you off with a warning. If I see you around here, or any of your piss-ant friends decide they want to get even I?m going to find you...?
He ruffled through the kid?s pockets and pulled out a small leather wallet, withdrawing the driver?s licence inside and placing it in his own pocket and tossing the wallet onto his chest.

[B]?...Li Shun Sheng, and I?m not going aim for your shoulder. Do you understand me ??[/B]

He forced the gun further into the kid?s skull as Li nodded his comprehension of the situation vigorously. Withdrawing the weapon, he allowed the kid to scamper down the street likely heading for the nearest hospital of street surgeon.

Tossing his milk into the fridge, Bastien took another long drag from the cigarette and grabbed a scrap of paper from his overflowing desk. Retrieving the phone from the other side of the room he carefully punched in the series of digits and waited for an answer.

[B]?This is Besson, I?ve taken care of a problem for the Lady and I expect it to be left in my hands.?[/B]
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[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The weather the next morning was hot, dreary, dull, and generally so unlike San Francisco weather, that Ling-Sum passionately entertained the idea of simply not going about her business until the evening meeting. But her father had impressed upon her both the effectiveness and necessity of her detente with the Lady's people and organization. As such, it was only kosher that she complete the lunch date she was holding with one of the Lady's men...so to speak. After that, dropping by the Brotherhood of Heavenly Peace was absolutely necessary to ensure the agenda between the Sleepers and their team was streamlined.

Such was the glamorous role of the Silver Fairy. And what was her father doing this entire time? Probably perfecting his swing on the golf course with the CEO's of whichever international corporation he was fleecing this year. Although that might be slightly unfair. It wasn't as if the Bear General didn't also do his part to ensure the continuing good health of the Brotherhood. But that was neither here nor there, and Ling-Sum had work to do.

Summoning up two servants from the kitchen, Ling-Sum took her breakfast over to her computer and scrolled through the local headlines while she gleefully consumed a bowl of congee with wheat gluten and hard boiled tea eggs on the side. In the adjoining room, Sen made the beds and then picked out Ling-Sum's neatly pressed light taupe skirt and blazer set. A light and flowy pink shell completed the ensemble, and matching shoes and crystal earrings complimented everything. It couldn't really be called an exciting or interesting outfit, but it allowed Ling-Sum to project an air of sensible, calm assurance, without seeming flashy.

Flashy was for tonight.[/i]

"Is the silver dress back from the cleaners?"

"I'll pick it up after lunch and have it ready by 5 tonight." [i]Sen began pinning back Ling-Sum's hair with deft, quick movements, bobbypins stuck in the corner of her mouth.[/i]

"That works. Makeup artist coming in at 5:15?" [i]Ling-Sum applied a light dusting of blusher across her cheeks and cast a critical eye at her pale pink and silver eyeshadow.[/i]

"She promised. If not I'll send someone after her. Shouldn't be a problem."

"That works. Please call down to have my car ready. Xingba and I are meeting around 11 and I have to drop by the office before then."

"The Maserati or the BMW?"

"Maserati. It sends a better message."

"Eh." [i]Sen rolled her eyes and reached for the phone anyway. Ling-Sum stood up from her vanity chair, fully dressed and ready to grab the day between both perfectly manicured hands and shake it to death. Sen opened their door and the two headed downstairs. One in a perfectly natural colored skirt, the other in a simple charcoal gray pants suit. Briefcase, legal pad, and fan. And her driver leaped out to open the back door for his mistress, scrupulously bowing and muttering pleasantries.

Without a single lurch, the Maserati rolled out of parking structure and onto the busy San Francisco streets, with the air conditioning showing it's owners exactly what it was made of.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]
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[size=1]”[b]Dj in place of J in the traditional English alphabet... represented by a...[/b]” Zhen-Yin paused in her studies to frown, slight lines creasing her forehead. “[b] What in the name of Kwan-Yin is [i]that[/i] supposed to be?[/b]”

Delicate fingers curled and uncurled in annoyance around her pen as she tried to memorize the Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs that made up their basic alphabet. It was a purposeless endeavor, as no one spoke it as a language and had not for quite some time – unless you were of Zhen-Yin's mind about languages and knowledge. [i]All knowledge is worth having.[/i]

“[b]Talking to yourself again, darling?[/b]”

Zhen-Yin startled from her work, looking up to catch a faint smile of amusement flicker across Chen's face. Sheepishly, she put the pen down and stretched, languid and relaxed.

“[b]Only sometimes. It's easier to remember letters if I hear them.[/b]”

“[b]You going to try on your outfit for tonight? The seamstress would rather know if adjustments needed to be made with at least a couple hours to spare.[/b]”

Her roommate sighed in frustration at the perplexed look on Zhen-Yin's face. “[b]You're playing pet to one of the Lady's clients tonight, remember?[/b]”

Zhen-Yin's eyes widened, startled once more. “[b]Oh! I.... forgot.[/b]”

Chen rolled her eyes. “[b]I can see that. Hurry up and try them on, already.[/b]” With a last acerbic gaze at her roommate, the girl left.

Left to her own devices, Zhen-Yin gazed balefully at the outfit on the bed. “[b]Bath first.[/b]”

Muttering to herself the whole way, she gathered her bathrobe and made her way to the tubs. Sliding out of her clothes, she undid the braids in her hair as the bath filled. Wreathes of lavender-scented steam filled the room, calming her jittery nerves. Old scars exposed themselves on her pale skin, where clients had been less than cautious. She ignored them as she perched on the edge of the tub, dangling her toes in the water as it rose slowly up the sides.

What caught her attention was her reflection in the slowly fogging mirror across from her. She looked far too pale to herself, dark eyes wide in her face, dark hair curling about her slim shoulders like a halo in the heat. She'd been negligent of her health as of late, and the only thing preventing her ribs from showing was the beautifully toned muscle. One vicious scar marked her from the underside of her left breast to her hip, pale pink on nearly-translucent skin.

“[b]The Lady is not going to be happy with me...[/b]” she sighed to herself as she slid into the water and turned off the tap. She would have to remember to eat before she left this time. Zhen-Yin's lips pursed in distaste as she slipped under the surface of the water, emerging dripping. She proceeded to scrub her skin almost raw with cleanliness before standing and stepping out of the water.

She sighed with pleasure as she slipped the cotton robe on, walking on the balls of her slender feet. Leaving the bath to drain, Zhen-Yin toweled her hair dry before making her way to the kitchen for a bite to eat.

Afterward, she reluctantly made her way back up to the new outfit she'd had commissioned. It wasn't in traditional Chinese style, but instead made in the old Greek style. The cloth was cherry blossom pink silk, gathered under the breasts with rose colored silk ribbon. A low-cut, square necked affair with slender, almost detached straps, it flattered her collar bone and bust, ruched generously but not too gaudy. From there, it flowed to her ankles, flaring. Slipping it over her still damp hair, she twirled about, gauging the feel of the dress.

The seamstress was the best and the dress fit like a glove. Zhen-Yin slipped on the matching silk slippers, embroidered with seed beads of crystalline pink. Feeling airy, she nearly skipped into the bathroom, seating herself on the padded bench in front of the mirror. Cosmetics she used sparingly, hiding any hollows sleeplessness may have left. Her lips she adorned with pale pink gloss, matching the dress. Her eyes she touched with light eyeliner and mascara, dusting her lids with silver powder.

What to do with her hair, she wondered. Laboriously she curled it, twisting it at the back of her head to spill down her neck in glossy black tendrils, securing it with her signature obsidian hair sticks, tipped with butterflies of rose quartz. Simple rose quartz drops hung at her ears and the leash of braided silk her client had commissioned lay against her throat, the other end wrapped around her wrist.


“[b]Quite.[/b]” Zhen-Yin jumped at Chen's voice. “[b]Ready to go? Your keys are on the island in the kitchen and I need to use the bath.[/b]”

Zhen-Yin cast Chen a fleeting glare, a little annoyed at her roommates bossy tone. She made no comment on her change of attitude. Jealousy could drive a wedge between friends, and she was in no mood to play that game today. Standing, she swept past the other girl with her nose in the air. Procuring her purse and coat from her room, keys from the island, she left the house.

Unlocking the drivers side door to her blue Viper, she slide in and switched on her music to something loud and obnoxious – how she was feeling. With one last glance to the back seat to make sure her bag of tricks was still there, she buckled and pulled out of the driveway.[/size]
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A broiling rage seemed to seep through Xen, as he made his way back to the safehouse. He was cool, and on the prowl for some HEAT. The cool streets played upon his skin, making him seem... etheral, like a gift bestowed upon the world.

Who would he grace toight? Who would he allow to touch him?

A question which was never answered, unfortunately. Nothing sated his appetites. They were all.... short. And not just the junk in the undies department, but time wise too.

Xen wished someone could sate his hunger. But, as usual, he was disappointed.

Tonight would be the same and it would suck. Alot. But, In this atleast he'd get laid. Oh, how sweet relief would be so nice.

The air seemed to come alive, energizing Xen. That hotel room was just boring. No real fun, and no enjoyment. Orders. And Orders he was obligated to obey. He, the lost soul. His heart was as black as the deepest Obsidian stone, and he was far too sullied to ever atone for his sins.

"Let's hit the town..." Xen said, a dark, hungry smile on his face.

OOC: Forgive me it's so short. I couldn't think of a whole lot.
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[FONT=Calibri][align=justify][INDENT]Gabriel’s job was not particularly enviable.

Sure, he was self employed. Sure, he had built his own company—essentially—from the ground up. Sure he set his own hours—thirty minutes here, lunch with an associate there, a meeting with a very auspicious someone on Wendesday of this week—and generally approached his business with a very relaxed demeanor, and sure his salary rivaled most major CEOs, but even with all that to his credit Gabriel Yu was not going to be featured on the World’s Most Successful list in Time Magazine at any point in the future.

Half of the reason was because his business wasn’t prominent in the public eye. He wasn’t a major film producer or team owner for professional sports, like the unbelievably popular NAFCAR circuit recently introduced after anti-grav vehicles were banned for anything except recreation; and he wasn’t head of a leading major law firm or a front-running tech industry. Most of his dealings took place well out of sight. And he kept it that way because of the other half of the reason he was relatively unknown: job hazards.

Like getting your car bombed at two in the morning.

Deal in information, and do it the right way, and you make powerful, generous friends with very deep pockets. But you will also make equally powerful enemies who might decide to reward your recent efforts by turning your Cadillac into a smoking pile of twisted metal, preferably with you inside.

Gabriel had been warned about the trap beforehand, but only just, and so he had watched the STS become Chinese fireworks from several blocks away. He had dutifully mourned the poor street rat whose only fortune in life had lead to his death, but a minute was all he could spare before his attention was needed elsewhere again.

But a car was somewhat essential to his business operation, and so he was left in need of new wheels. Finding his secret admirer wasn’t straightforward, but in a couple of days he had the names of the crew who had done the honors, and after that tracing the threads back had been a simple matter. And as it had turned out, his new friend was very loathe to suddenly become an enemy of the Bear General, and Gabriel was heavily compensated to ensure that no such thing need occur.

Which left only this morning’s business to fully resolve the situation. And as it so happened, Gabriel had business in the area anyway.

He drove by the restaurant a little slower than necessary and was rewarded with the dumbfounded stares of his car’s personal roadside assistance team from the other side of the diner’s window. Not that he blamed them; the vintage Aston Martin beneath him was worth more than ten times his previous car, and being a convertible only made the insult that much sexier.

Besides, Cadillacs stood out as much as Faded Glory anymore. Anyone who thought they were someone had one, and Gabriel had had his eye on an upgrade for several years now.

He circled back, parking the ’24 Volante across the street, and ambled casually across to the diner for a late breakfast with one of his collectors, sparing the flabbergasted men in the window booth a sidelong imperious smirk.

After all, at this point why bother with subtlety?[/INDENT][/align][/FONT]
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  • 2 months later...
[indent][SIZE=1]Replacing the receiver on the phone Bastien allowed himself to relax to the tap tap tap of the rain on the window behind him. More than likely the Lady and her Serpants would keep their word and leave dealing with Shun Sheng him, if of course they didn’t continue to make themselves a nuisance to the gang, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to keep them out of the fire if they did. It would’ve been easier to just kill the boy he supposed, send a message of his own that pulling a gun on him with any other intent than to shoot him in the next millisecond would end in bloody death, but he didn’t. He was a decent, honest cop in a city that ate them up and spat them out.

If he’d played the game, made alliances here, taken kick-backs there, stabbed backs and cut throats when needed he’d probably be in line to take over as Chief of Police. Sometimes, when he was in bed alone at night, the thought of it was tempting, the idea of fulfilling the American dream: coming from absolutely nothing and making his way to the top of the food-chain. He’d never have wanted for anything, power, fame, money, and women, all of them his for the taking when he wanted them. He’d come far enough as an honest cop he supposed, thirty-four, a detective lieutenant and the head of the SAPD’s Major Crimes Unit.

It was ironic that he’d been promoted not just because of his aptitude but because those above him felt secure that Bastien wouldn’t suddenly turn crooked. When the previous head of the MCU had proven a little too inventive for his own good he’d been found cut to pieces in a meat-factory, supposedly at the behest of the Deputy Commissioner whom he’d acquired enough leverage over to potentially force him out of the position. It was nothing more than a rumour of course that the DC had been involved, but of all the likely reasons it made the most sense.

A knock on the door shook him out of his contemplative repose, brushing off the ash from his shirt Bastien made his way over to the door, his right hand resting on his pistol should the need arrive. A glance through the spy-hole revealed a red haired woman in his early thirties standing on the other side of the door, her stance was natural, even a bit sexually suggestive. The lack of a weapon in either hand didn’t make her safe but if this was another attempt to kill him he certainly appreciated the creativity of it. Cases of poisoning or otherwise unusual assassination during sexual intercourse occurred more than most people thought but couldn’t be called usual or common by a longshot.

She glided through the doorway without a word and draped herself across his couch with only a small smile to decorate an otherwise imperceptible face.

“[B]And you are ?[/B]”

The smile became coy, her green eyes lighting up with amusement.

“[B]A gift Monsieur Besson, for a favour done.[/B]”

It wasn’t often he heard his own accent, or to be more precise the accent of his homeland, Bastien’s own accent had been worn down over the last two decades to still be noticeable when he pronounced certain words but otherwise unremarkable. This woman’s accent had been carefully maintained, along with her looks to make her an exotic creature, a hint at a by-gone age of French sensuality and mystique. Flawless porcelain skin, ruby lips, she was in a word perfect and Bastien’s own lust surprised him for a moment.

She was however, most certainly a gift, one he couldn’t abuse without their being consequences. She was the kind of woman a man would pay thousands just to have on his arm at a gala for a couple of hours. To actually be with her, something like that went beyond money. The call had gone out only minutes before, for her to get here so quickly, evidently he’d done the Lady of a Hundred Paces a far larger favour than he’d initially estimated, that in itself warranted further investigation…afterwards.

Shutting the door Bastien crossed into the kitchen and withdrew a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of Chateaux Picard before taking the seat across from his lady caller. He’d parted with a considerable amount for the bottle, French exports had dropped as the government fought half a dozen revolutionary factions across the country Bordeaux had become a battlefield and wine had become a rare commodity. The cork came free with a faint pop and he filled both glasses generously.

“[B]You know what I’m here for Monsieur Besson, you don’t have to try to get me drunk first.[/B]”

“[B]Perhaps I was simply hoping for some pleasant conversation first, it has been quite some time since I met a countryman. You have me at a disadvantage Mademoiselle, you know my name but I am without yours, unless of course you would like to keep this encounter mysterious and I shall simply refer to you as La Femme Rouge.[/B]”

Tracing a finger around the rim of the class the woman seemed to ponder the idea for a moment.

“[B]As much as I would like that Monsieur Besson it would be most inconsiderate of me to leave you without my name, how else will you pine for me and call out my name when in the company of other women ?[/B]”

“[B]How very considerate.[/B]”

“[B]Bien sur. You may call me Madeline Monsieur Besson.[/B]”

“[B]Only on the condition you refer to me as Sebastien.[/B]”

The night that followed was certainly memorable, she’d excused herself before the sun had risen, extracting herself from his embrace. As the kettle boiled, Bastien realised he wouldn’t be able to let go of the circumstances surrounding the evening and the only person who might having information and be willing to divulge it would be the Serpent’s Tongue.[/indent]
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