The Golden Age (IC Superhero Roleplay)

[Cush Almighty]

Earl had road his bike to the Butcher Shop that was a few blocks away from his home. It wasn't cold in the shop nor too hot. The smell in the shop was of raw meat, Not inviting at all. He could see the Butcher slicing beef he planned to put out for sale. Earl walked up to the counter yawning and scratching his head. The Butcher's name was Arnold Kelly and had been running this shop for about 5 years now. Mr. Kelly and Earl's family had always been on good terms. They always paid their tabs on time and were regulars as well since they live in the neighborhood. "Hey Mr. Kelly, How's things been as of late? I haven't seen you in a few months. Family alright?" He said breaking the ice.

Mr. Kelly smiled and continued cutting the beef. "Wonderful Earl, The family is just fine." He replied. "I may not see you much but I see your folks pretty often. You've been busy with that jazz thing of yours, Right?" He asked. "My son really into it. Maybe one day you'll see him performing on stage." He said chuckling. "He's no good honestly, But I'm no fan of it anyway so how would I know."

"Yeah that's my thing, Jazz is my passion. Now in regards to your son, I say your son should follow his dream. If he's terrible or not it's all about the love of music." He responded. "Even he can always improve."

He finished cutting the slices of beef and put them on display behind the display glass. "If you say so Earl. Now let's get to business, How may I help you today?" He asked setting his butcher's knife down and folding his arms.

"My mother needs two pounds of chicken." Earl told him as he pulled the money out of his pocket and set it on the counter.

"Coming right up." He responded as he went to grab some chicken from the back. He quickly returned with the chicken and started cutting it in front of him. This time gave Earl sometime to think. His mind automatically wondered to the other astonishing individuals in Geld. There was a good number of them, All of them pretty dangerous in their own right. He didn't agree with some of their actions honestly, The one's who claim they fight for good that is. He heard about one guy running around dressed as a Samurai slicing and dicing bad guys left and right. Earl knew the men he killed had it coming but who is he to say who lives and die. Murder is just the easy way out, It cowardly honestly. Earl then yawned and rolled his shoulder, He felt a slight pain in it. "Damn, Always something hurting. I feel like some old geezer...No offense Mr. Kelly. He said with a smile as he poked fun at Mr. Kelly's age.

Mr. Kelly chopped the final piece of chicken and dropped it on the scale. "I'm no geezer, Not yet anyway." Mr. Kelly then wrapped up the meat in paper and placed it on the counter. "I gave you a little extra. Tell your mother I said hey." He now had a wide grin on his face that just made his look creepy.

Earl grabbed the meat and put on a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Kelly, I'll make sure to tell her that." He replied lying through his teeth. He wasn't going to tell her but he was at least going to have Mr. Kelly think he was. He walked out of the Butcher shop and into the hot sun. He placed the package of chicken in his basket on his bike and hopped on the bike's seat. He then started to ride back home still tired and now slightly sweaty.

 

[Zarko Straadi]

Carnelian:

Inwardly, Carnelian kicked herself for not having worn a secondary costume under her armor. With one, she might have been able to play her cards closer to the vest. But, Setting Sun had seen her face. Given that he'd effortlessly tracked her flying across a couple miles of cityscape at high speed--and sneaked up on her to boot--he certainly would have had no trouble following her while she was unpowered and on foot. Furthermore, she could not assume he'd fail to deduce that she couldn't armor up again in the event of a conflict with him; she'd gone into a stance when startled, but her armor did not reappear.

Thus, she'd been faced with a choice: attempt to evade his questions and signal untrustworthiness while at an immense tactical disadvantage, or set out to turn herself into a person with a name while demonstrating honesty. She reasoned that, if the War had taught anything, it was that it was much easier to hate "the Jews" or "the Japanese" or any other dehumanized abstraction, than to hate a person one knew by name for the same reasons. Humanize herself, offer something, and invite reciprocation. Though his comments about her naivete still rankled, the strategy had arguably worked: she avoided drawing hostility and received instead an offer of the aid of his benefactor (or the man himself, should they prove to be one and the same).

Carnelian smiled at the irony of it. Of all the people I might go to for support, a Capitalist magnate? But if he is as described, perhaps I could become a Fabian, in a sense. The Capitalist system is too strong now, especially here in America. But if I can work within it to improve the lives of the workers and the poor... I should at least speak to him, see what common ground there might be. But how? I can't just walk through the front door. It wouldn't do him good to be publicly associated with me in either guise. Call him? He's likely to be a very busy man, and I can't just throw 'Setting Sun sent me' around to employees who may or may not have been trusted with the secret of their collaboration. Perhaps a more oblique approach... she thought, brainstorming some ideas.

But first: that secondary costume.

 

[AshenAngel]

Kot relaxed a bit as the remaining strike-breakers scurried off, though he frowned when Black Flag gave a brief speech and a moderately forced applause came from the individuals he supposed he had gone and protected. He went the opposite way of the two, taking off in a steady run before leaping up and hauling himself up onto a fire escape of a nearby building. He climbed it with the ease of a cat climbing a tree, though he started to feel the graze on his arm when he got to the roof of the building.

He took off at a quick run, racing across the rooftops as he made his way to the docks, and eventually the abandoned warehouse that he'd been transforming into an effective hideaway. Some commotion at a warehouse a few blocks away had caused him to take a detour. Police and such were gaping about outside the building, and from what he smelled it had to be a bloody mess inside. Giving the place a wide berth was one of his smarter calls.

The feline themed antihero arrived at the abandoned building and easily picked the lock on the side door. Stepping inside, the completely dark interior didn't phase him. He could see perfectly fine in the dark, one of the very few positives of his abilities. He quietly walked up the stairs to the small office area that he had transformed into a sleeping and work area. Paperwork from various labs was scattered about the place, with a few key pieces hung up on one of the walls. He turned on a small table top lamp and removed his papers from the pouch of his belt. He looked over them carefully, frowning with a sigh as they didn't reveal any new information about his circumstances.

As if on cue, he felt his arm ache a bit. He had a knack for wandering into some sort of trouble. Even back in Russia. Sometimes he had to wonder if bad luck was added to his DNA. Fortunately, he kept a change of clothes and a medical kit here. He got halfway changed, having put on a pair of black work pants, then turned his attention to the graze on his arm. He removed his incredibly makeshift bandage and tossed it in the trash, before beginning to clean the injury.

 

[Boss Megu]

Location: Serpico Tenuta; a Hidden Room
April 1st 1948
1:09 AM

Adalberto leaned on the brick wall with his sunglasses on face as he smoked a tobacco. He didn't flinch as pained screech filled their room, completely at ease as if he was in a concerto. He did, however, wrinkle his nose at the sight of blood splattering the floor, nearly reaching his shoes. "Angelo, stop." He called out, his voice clear and loud enough despite the screams that were resounding in the air. Angelo, the taller man with ripping muscles, stopped. He turned back to him, raising his eyebrow in question. Smirking, Adalberto winked as he walked closer, making a face of disgust as he came closer to the man -was it still a man, when the man in question doesn't look quite...human?- and waved a man behind him to come closer. "Mercurio, I'm getting sleepy. This is getting us nowhere," he told the other man. Mercurio; a brunette with athletic physique and wearing glasses, sighed as he accepted the tobacco Adalberto handed over. "Don't kill him, Adalberto." He told Adalberto, as he beckoned Angelo to leave his post. Adalberto smirked as the weeping man bound to the chair began to plead, "Please, please, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Adalberto laughed softly as he approached the weeping man. "Now, why on earth do we want him dead?" He asked them, moving his body slightly as he faced the Vicenti brothers. "It's not like Mark here, betrayed us." Turning back to the weeping man, "Isn't that right, Mark?" Mark began to thrash and sob harder as Adalberto stopped in front of him. "Usually, I'm a righteous person, Mark." Adalberto said and swept down, capturing the other man in a kiss. The kiss ended quick as Adalberto pulled away, a deadly smirk on his face. "But I'm not very forgiving." He added as he stood straighter and watched the man began to convulse in pain as Adalberto's poison rushed through his body. The man began to scream, louder than he did a few minutes ago. Adalberto swirled his saliva in his mouth and spit it out to the floor, wincing when he saw it was green and ate through the floor slightly.

Walking away from the screaming man, Adalberto accepted the towel offered by Angelo. "Bleh. My mouth tastes like blood." He whined as he wiped the blood that got on his lips and shivered in distaste. Behind him, the man began to plead again."Please, I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! Please! Let it stop! PLEASE!" Adalberto smiled and turned to Mark. "Everything, you said?" He asked and smirked, "Well, why didn't you say that earlier, stupid boy. Mercurio, go help out our friend." He instructed Mercurio with a cruel smirk and the other man coldly began to interrogate him. Angelo stood by, pulling out his gun as Mark began to pour out everything he knew about their missing shipment. "That's it. That's all, I know! Please! Please, please, I'm sorry. Please!" Mark begged. Adalberto moved away from his slouched position on the wall and walked to the door. "Wait! Where are you going?! Give me the antidote!" Mark cried.

Adalberto turned to the pleading man with a cruel smirk. "What antidote?" He teased and walked out the door. Just before the door closed, there was a resounding bang. Huffing, Adalberto placed his hand on his shoulder and winced. "I hate jobs that go beyond midnight." He muttered and climbed up the stairs and into the main bedroom and groaned. "I need my sleep."

+

Hours later, the hot morning day found Adalberto cursing rapidly as he walked the streets of Geld. "Stupid heat. Stupid traitors. Stupid famiglia. Stupid polizia. Stupid car breaking down. Stupid everything!" He raged as he dragged his way to a diner he knew was nearby. Pulling out one of his handkerchiefs, he brought it to his face and stopped to look at a few people running away, leaving their fallen comrades. Looking closely, Adalberto realised they were strike-breakers and narrowed his eyes as the sight of people on the ground, clearly losing a fight. "Well, that's something interesting..." he muttered and smirked, putting the problem of his missing shipment now in the hands of the polizia aside. It wasn't like he could walk in and get it. Well, he could. But he'd be filled with bullet holes if he did. He liked polka-dots, but just not on him, thank you very much. He walked onward and entered the diner, exhaling at the joy of it being more cooler than the outside.

He glanced about the room and smirked to see not just one, but three attractive people respectively. "Well, well..." Adalberto commented as he found a seat at the counter and finally removed his sunglasses and smirked at the young-looking waiter addressing the other fit gentleman. Adalberto allowed his eyes to wander up and down the man asking. "I'd like me some of that." He spoke out loud to the man beside him with a wink but then turned to the younger man behind the counter. "If not, then I'd like to have some coffee and some of your pie and maybe you on the side." He told the teen with a confident look.

Adalberto smiled at them both, wagging his eyebrows up and down. Laughing, he leaned on his hand, smirking at them both. It's been a hectic week for the mafioso and he needed some me time and doesn't want to worry about the shipment or the police or body disposal. Right now, he wanted to see which one of these men blushed. And oh! He wanted some pie too. The pie in this diner is fantastic!

 

[Razilin]

The Himura Corporation was an importation venture, facilitating goods both to and from Asia and especially Japan. Business had gotten a little harder, for mainly political reasons, in the post-war years. But Harry Himura was nothing if not adaptable in the capitalist world. Through some careful and clever deals, he was able to keep the family company in the black, further fortifying the corporation's foothold in America despite being run by a Japanese-American.

Harry slipped into his office through the window, taking off his hat and scarf and stashing his sword inside the length of a large coatrack he personally modified for the task. A few more minutes later and the vigilante known as the Setting Sun was gone. In his place was the businessman and philanthropist Harry Himura, impeccably dressed in a white suit, shirt, and styled tie.

And not a moment too soon, as his secretary rapped on the office door and came in. "Good morning, Himura-san," the Japanese secretary greeted. She handed him some papers. "Just a few things for you to review and sign. Contracts, last minute adjustments to last week's deals...oh, and that charity called again, the one about needing funding to move more Japanese expatriates out of hot zones."

"Of course," Harry said, scanning each page and applying his signature where needed. "You can up our contribution another two percent. Anything for the community. Anything else?"

"No, sir. Have a good day!"

Once he was alone again, Harry dropped into the chair behind his desk with a sigh. He was glad he took the time to train and select a competent staff. They effectively ran the business for him, at least as far as day to day operations were concerned. That left him free to pursue...other designs.

Harry pulled out a notebook from a drawer in his desk, one scrawled with hand-drawn maps and notes in neat kanji. He had taken to recording his vigilante activities, as well as investigating some items of interest as he went on patrol.

Already, he was working on Steel-Nose McGinty and his shipment of arms and added the Black Flag to the list of items to follow up on. The Black Flag seemed like she'd be a good ally to have in protecting the people of Geld.

As for the arms shipment, he'd made some headway prior to raiding the warehouse. His information network came through with a name, a potential mastermind behind the arms dealing. It wasn't one he recognized and any attempt to garner more information was met with dead ends.

Aldalberto Serpico. He had some ties to the Italian mafia, but that was all Harry could find about the man.

Harry's instincts were screaming that this man was dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous to let his information network handle alone.

Harry looked to the coatrack.

Maybe the Setting Sun needed to rise over Serpico instead.

 

[Banana-senpai]

Vixen
Involved: @Mysty (observed) @LuckycoolHawk9 (spoken with) @Zarko Straadi (spoken with) @Boss Megu (seen) @Mundane Monster (recalled)​
​

"Yes, that's right. Dresses, formal ones. I do have some ideas I'd like to discuss in person. And I'd like to talk to you about a very important offer, that is...you might just hear a lot from me, actually." Veronica continued as she took a second to sip a little milkshake and glance to the counter. A man had come in and talked to the innocent looking server. She made a mental note to learn about him somehow, and the strange scar-like marking she had caught a small glimpse of earlier. But she recognized the man talking to the server. It was her client.

"I'll direct some clients you may want to speak with too, but for now, I'd like to meet you so you can take my measurements. As for design, go crazy! I do like the color red." Veronica put her milkshake on the payphone and spoke quietly. "Now honey, write this address down and see me there any day at four in the afternoon until six. Today or tomorrow would be great." she waited for a moment and dictated the address to her pseudo-home. She was renting two apartment units at the same building but on different floors. 1st floor was where she met clients and looked every bit like a posh office. "Look for Rex Caofino. He'll know who you are. See you!"

She put down the phone, quite excited to meet the nice lady she spoke with. She sounded very young so Veronica had to direct her to the "office" instead of the bar where she worked. Taking her milkshake with her, she walked back to the counter, noticing another newcomer who was definitely just about as out of place looking as she was. She recognized Adalberto Serpico from the whispers of the ladies. It might have been Katie Kit that told her about the bachelor.

She tapped Nathaniel's shoulder and lifted her milkshake as in a toast. "Glad you came, Nathaniel. Come this way." She strutted off to a booth and sat, gesturing for him to do the same. She put her half-empty glass of milkshake down. "First off if you don't mind me asking, did you catch that boy's name?" She gave the server a small nod. She gazed at him for a second and shrugged. "But that's beside the point. What can I do for you?"

 

[Mysty]

D A S H I E L L
{x} location: diner.
{x} mentioned: Veronica @Mippu
{x} interactions: Nathaniel @LuckycoolHawk9, Adalberto @Boss Megu

Dashiell looked up when he had been adressed, looking confused for a moment before it clicked that the man must have been looking for the only woman that stuck out in the diner, the one with the drop dead gorgeous face, and who had walked in like she owned the place. The boy nodded off in Veronica's direction, the diner was small, it didn't take much talking for him to point out one of the ten people in the little building. He had just finished cleaning the counter, throwing the dirty sponge in the trash when another voice caught his attention.

Dashy looked to the newcomer, a little surprised by the other's blunt flirting towards another man. Not that he was one to judge, not at all, but it was something so frowned upon, it had almost made Dashiell gasp. Then again, the newcomer looked like a man who could get away with nearly anything he wanted, and the boy was just about to open his mouth to ask what the other would like to order, before the Casanova beat him to it.

"and maybe some of you on the side."

Dashiell could feel his face flush a darling shade of crimson, his cheeks heating up as a blush formed over his previously surprised expression. Dashy tucked a stray strand of black hair behind his ear, just casting the man a smile that hinted shyness, but mostly held the friendly 'happy to serve' facade he was forced to have. "Sorry sir, I'm not on the menu, but I'll be happy to get you that coffee and some pie," he said, bouncing back from the flirting as easily as he could, but his face was still dusted with red, "what kind of pie do you want?" He asked as he moved to set the little cup of sugar packets out for the man, mainly to distract himself because if he didn't, he'd say something stupid.

 

[Razilin]

The rest of Harry's day at the office went smoothly. Again, he left the majority of the day to day operations to his well-trained staff, freeing him up by the late afternoon to don his gi, scarf, hat, and blade once again. He was soon leaping and running across Geld's rooftops against the amber rays of the setting sun - a fitting image, given his poetic sobriquet. The swordsman already had a destination in mind. His information network had identified this mysterious Serpico and his ties to the Italian mafia, and there were certain dives where a well-placed fight would send the right message into the right ears.

The Big Heat was one of many bars in Geld's rougher districts, in particular, an Italian neighborhood. He came in through the back alleyway, literally kicking the door down and knocking the guard behind it into the wall. Monohoshizao flashed out of its scabbard, beheading the stunned guard. Four more mafia soldiers in impeccable suits stormed in, but the Setting Sun was already descending upon them. Neat lines of blood suddenly decorated the walls and ceiling.

The swordsman advanced into the main bar. The clientele were about what one would expect of a thug dive: surly fellows of ill-repute, some in suits, others in shirt-sleeves, and all with the skill to crack a few skulls.

But the Setting Sun was not unskilled himself. He charged into the fray without fear. He leaped from table to table, kicked chairs into the way of his foes, tripped or pushed goons into one another - anything to keep the crowd confused, disoriented, and tumbling over one another. Each second they spent trying to untangle themselves from one another was a second not spent attacking the swordsman.

And those precious seconds were all the swordsman needed to leave his mark. Monohoshizao drank its plenty of blood in those lost seconds.

And then, it was over. Amidst broken tables, shattered chairs, and the mixture of spilled drinks and blood, the Setting Sun stood over his defeated foes with his sword held aloft. A single thug sat in a puddle of his comrades' blood - and his own urine - staring at the angel of death before him. The tip of Monohoshizao gently touched the tip of his nose. The thug very nearly shit himself.

"I am the Setting Sun," the swordsman said serenely, as if he just hadn't murdered a roomful of people. "I am the dying light on the eve of criminality's successes. This attack is a message. Whether or not you work for him, all of your ilk will know: the Setting Sun will fall on Aldalberto Serpico."

The sword returned to its sheath and the swordsman strode out of the bar, leaving the quivering, terrified thug alone in a room of the dead.

Minutes later, he would make several panicked phone calls....

 

[Zarko Straadi]

Emilie:

"Yes, that's right. Dresses, formal ones. I do have some ideas I'd like to discuss in person. And I'd like to talk to you about a very important offer, that is...you might just hear a lot from me, actually."

Emilie listened carefully as Veronica talked, taking careful notes. The cause for her high heart rate shifted from nervousness to excitement and astonishment. She repeated back the address she'd been given, and the name of 'Rex Caofino' to be sure she'd taken it all down correctly. Then, at the end of a rush of flying time, Miss Fox hung up...and Emilie had to turn to face her mother.

"What did she say?"

Please, please, pleeease! Emilie thought, doing her best to provide a precise recollection of Veronica's words.

"So, let me get this straight. She sees your little ad in the paper and, sight unseen, calls you up to start making you 'very important' offers? And she wants you to go meet some hood named 'Rex Caofino?'"

"Mother, just because he has an Italian name doesn't mean he's a 'hood.' Italians are also big in fashion design..."

"Honey, if she had her own Italian fashion designer, why would she want to hire you?"

"OK...but he could be a lawyer or a butler or a business partner. Or even a bodyguard. In her line of work, she'd need somebody who could tell the drunks and the creepers to take a hike if they got too fresh. That doesn't mean she's having him show me to her office is so she can do something bad to me, does it?"

"Well, not necessarily...but think, honey. Doesn't this whole thing sound too good to be true?"

You mean, 'She couldn't actually want your clothing designs, Emily, so it has to be something awful!'? Emily thought, but kept the words to herself. Getting into an argument wouldn't help.

"You remember Captain Amazing, right?" Emily said. April rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but he wasn't exactly amazing."

"I know--but what about his costume, the one I made for him?"

April's pride in her daughter broke through in a smile. "Alright, I thought you did an 'amazing' job with that. He was certainly happy with it."

"OK. Now, Vixen doesn't come up in Cape and Cowl stories very often, but when she does, it's always about things she knows, what she knows and who she knows, especially when it comes to other supers. I don't know what her powers are, but I bet they're about finding things out, like super-senses or psychic clairvoyance, something like that." I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she's got super hearing... "Which is why she's not out there punching criminals in the face. Soooo, if she finds out that Captain Amazing, the Wind Warrior, and Hourglass are sporting new costumes, and she likes them, then she finds out where they got them...it's not impossible that she'd want me to design clothes for her, is it?"

"No, it's not impossible, but...I just don't like it, it all seems so shady... And it sounds to me like she wants to get you involved in things outside of superhero costume making."

"Well, a lot of superheroes have to keep their identities secret, so I guess they'd sorta have to be shady in a way...but they are trying to use their powers for good, to protect people. Remember when I started doing this, and you and Dad were skeptical because the market for superhero costumes is so small? Well, there are a lot more women who want pretty dresses than there are superheroes, right? If Miss Fox does a show or goes to a dinner party in a dress I designed for her, this could be a huge opportunity for me! It could be the start of having a real career, instead of just running the fashion equivalent of a lemonade stand. Please, Mom? This is really important to me!"

"Alright...I'll tell you what. You go ahead and get started on some designs for her, but we'll finish this discussion when your father gets home."

...

Vander Jameson listened as his daughter recapitulated her conversation with Veronica and the arguments she'd presented to April with his usual taciturn expression. Then, a moment of silence that seemed to last forever while he puffed on his pipe.

"Honey, I have to agree with your mother on this. This whole idea of asking my little girl to meet with some suspicious fellow just sounds too dangerous." Emilie suppressed a sigh.

"Alright...what sort of horrible things do you think she'd want to do to me?" Emilie asked. Vander and April shared a look. Oh. Adult Conspiracy stuff, Emilie thought, willing herself not to roll her eyes.

"She'll be a bad influence on you, for one thing," April said.

"Mom, Dad, I don't want to be a dancer or a cabaret singer. If I had to go up on stage and try to sing or dance in front of an audience, I'd be scared to death. And if I don't like it when Jimmy DiSalvio and his leather jacket buddies whistle at me, I wouldn't want to get it from a whole room full of guys like that. I know Miss Fox is beautiful and glamorous and kinda famous and all, but she's not who I want to be when I grow up. One of the things I like about superheroes, one of the reasons I wanted to be one was, you get to do amazing things for people from behind a mask, so that even if you get famous, no one knows who you are.

"I'm too young to go into her cabaret, so I just won't go. There are plenty of girls willing to take work as cocktail waitresses and cigarette girls or whatever. And if she wants a singer or a dancer, she probably already knows someone who can actually sing and dance. Why would she want to be all sneaky to try and recruit me for that sort of thing, when she doesn't even know what I look like, or have any reason to think I'd be any good at it?" Another shared Adult Conspiracy look, and Emilie could tell they didn't want to say what their actual worry was.

"I can tell you're very excited about this, dear," Vander said, "but you realize that if this becomes as big as you hope it will, it'll interfere with your schoolwork, and that will hurt your grades. And that will hurt your chances of getting into a good college."

"OK...why do you want me to go to a good college?" Vander arched an eyebrow.

"You already know the answer: so you can meet a nice up-and-coming young man who will be able to take good care of you and your family. How many times have we been over this?"

"Uh-huh. But if I'm designing clothes for Miss Fox, I'll start to be a name in high society, among the people who have already arrived. That's even better, isn't it?" If I'm going to go to the trouble of going to college, I want to go there to actually learn things! Emilie thought, but that would be a comment wasted on her parents.

"Alright, but if you get this big 'career' you want, where would you even find time for a family? You don't want to become some kind of lonely spinster, with nothing to live for but your job, do you?" April said. Again, Emilie had to suppress a sigh.

"In the old days, before there were factories and sewing machines, women had to make their families' clothes by hand, spinning and weaving and sewing, and they still took care of their kids, right? It'd be the same for me, except that I'll have a sewing machine, I won't have to make everything completely from scratch, I'll have a modern kitchen and everything, and I won't even have to do all the farm chores they used to have to do. I can buy butter at the store."

Vander and April looked at each other, suddenly realizing they were out of good arguments. Meanwhile, their daughter's pleading eyes wore down their resolve.

"I still don't like the idea of you going to meet this Rex Califino fellow by yourself," Vander said. "I'll take you down, and I'll talk to him and Miss Fox with you and make sure things are on the up-and-up." Emilie choked back a groan. She was cringing inwardly from humiliation already, imagining herself trying to talk business with Miss Fox with her parents standing over her.

"You. Are going to go have a chat with Veronica Fox, 'Geld's Guilty Pleasure.'" April said. "I don't think so. I'll take her down." A new argument began, this one between her parents. Another half an hour's careful wheedling finally yielded a result Emilie could live with: they'd both take her down, but they'd wait in the car.

Emilie grabbed a sketch pad and headed into the living room, where her brothers were watching television.

"Nicely done!" Jacob said, offering her a discrete high five. The smirks of the other boys added their congratulations.

 

[Cush Almighty]

Earl arrived at the bottom floor of his apartment. He gets off his bike and walks it up the apartment building front steps. He opens the unlocked door and went up the steps to his family's apartment. He grabs his key from his pocket and opens it. He walked in quietly and set his bike aside on the apartment's chipped up wall. He grabs the package of chicken from the bike's basket and tiptoes into the kitchen. He then opens his refrigerator with a broken handle gently making sure he that doesn't pull it off. He places the package inside and tiptoed to his room. Earl knew he had to get out of the house before his mother found he was home again or he would be forced to run more errands.

He walked to his closet and opens it and grabs a large duffle bag from it. Inside the bag was his superhero costume. He then went through his closet and took some clothes out for his show later. He stuffed a black pinstripe vest, Black pinstripe pants, White dress shirt and a clip-on tie into the bag. He then goes to grab his trombone bag and is out the door with a bag of clothes around his shoulder and saxophone case in hand. He grabs his bike and is out the door on his way to the jazz club he works at.

Setting
07/01/1948
Wednesday cool night (72F)
08:30pm
​

Earl had arrived pretty early today and had spent most of his time either napping, socializing, and occasionally get the bartender to slip him a drink so he would bug off. It was now getting close to Earl's set, Only thirty more minutes left. He was dress in the cloth's he shoved in his duffle bag earlier and was now tuning his saxophone. He was a little buzz but that wouldn't affect his ability to play. If he so desired he could use his power to mimic the sound of a trombone but that would be cheating the guest and himself. He played music naturally, The way it was meant to be played.

The jazz club he was at is known as The Capital, Located on outskirts of the slums. It was a pretty sensational place that looks way to good to be in the slums. All types of people come to The Capital, It was where the lower to higher class could mangle. The only separation here was the Colored seating section and the White only seating section. There was a pole in the middle of the club that served as the divider. The own really didn't care who sat where but Geld told him he had to put something up so people knew the boundary. The White's could cross it as they pleased but a colored person might upset someone by being over there for too long. Then there were the groups who got their own private sections upon request, Usually, Used by local crime families or the Elites of Geld.​

​

 

[Razilin]

07/01/1948
Wednesday cool night (72F)
08:30pm

The alley echoed with the sound of fighting and the screams of the injured...and the dying. Steel flashed in the fading sunlight; blood flashed soon after. A thug stumbled into the wall, clutching the stump of his severed hand in agony. His pained cries ended in silence as a length of steel was thrust into his throat.

"You son of a - " A gun came up.

The Setting Sun withdrew his sword and grabbed a second nearby thug, yanking him off-balance by the wrist and simultaneously tripping his leading foot. The thug fell forward, just as his compatriot's gun discharged. The thug then hit the ground, dead, having taken the shot meant for the swordsman. The Setting Sun's blade flashed and the gunman's weapon fell away in pieces. Before the gunman could react, the vigilante came forward with a pushing kick that sent the man into a cluster of garbage cans. The metal lids clattered and rolled, stopping by other nearby corpses - the gunman's other companions, all men of ill-repute, and all who had ties to one mob boss or another.

"Tell Aldalberto Serpico that I'm coming for him," the Setting Sun whispered softly to the whimpering goon. Monohoshizao flashed one last time. The goon mewled petulantly, but, astonishingly was still alive - blood seeped from a cut across his cheek.

No, not one cut.

Three.

In a single flash of that sword, three small cuts formed a jagged "S" on the man's cheek.

When the branded gunman looked up, the Setting Sun was gone.

---

Harry sat on a nearby rooftop with his legs dangling over the edge. His scarf was pulled down and Monohoshizao lay in its scabbard by his thigh. He let out a weary sigh. Today had been rather exhausting between stopping an arms shipment, intervening on some strike-breakers, sacking a Mafia bar, and assaulting another pack of Mafia soldiers.

Eventually, Aldalberto Serpico would be forced to confront him in some fashion. After all, the Setting Sun was not only interrupting his arms shipments, but also killing his soldiers. No Mafia captain worth his salt could let such an insult go unanswered.

And if he responded quickly, then the Setting Sun would need to be ready.

Harry replaced his scarf, retrieved his sword, and secured his hat. Once more, he was leaping from rooftop to rooftop. He had a particular destination in mind.

Ever since he started his vigilantism, Harry had been working on creating a base of operations apart from the Himura Corporation offices. He'd need a place to train in secrecy, to store equipment, or to bring criminals for interrogation - all in a location where his identity as a corporate mogul would not become compromised.

He found this little gem by accident while patrolling the city. Above the Geld Police Station was an old clocktower. It was ancient compared to the rest of the city and didn't even function. Its continued existence was largely as a historical conversation piece. Its hands were forever stuck at the stroke of midnight.

But more importantly, it was a place where Harry could hide in plain sight.

After all, what vigilante in their right mind would make their base above a police station?

Harry stuck to the shadows as he scaled the clocktower and accessed the forgotten maintenance door on the side. Tranquil silence and the mustiness of dust welcomed him home. The gears were frozen in time, an appropriate style of décor for a timepiece that no longer worked. Cobwebs and dust layered everything.

But the space behind the clockface itself had gotten some rework.

Simple, long wooden tables and chairs were laden with various tools, books, and maps of the city. A cot was set out in the back. A small chest underneath held a few items Harry would need in his vigilante activities - sword-sharpening supplies, materials to repair his gi in case it was wrecked in a fight, medical supplies, and a few military rations he was able to scrounge up. It was a modest base, but given he'd only set it up a few days ago, he'd already made a great deal of progress in making it a functional staging ground.

Harry doffed his hat and scarf and went to the worktable laden with maps. He marked off the bar he attacked as well as the neighborhood where he just assaulted the Mafia soldiers in the alley. Other notes on the map detailed the various mob factions and their affiliates, as well as which ones held particular territories.

If Harry wanted to force Aldalberto Serpico into the open, he'd need to make himself into the biggest threat possible - or at least give the illusion of being so.

Mobility and geography would be his allies here. Already, his attacks struck two different mob factions in two different locations in the city. Harry marked a few other neighborhoods controlled by other Mafia families. Striking those would make him seem like he was everywhere and that no one was safe. The fact that he was openly attacking various factions while declaring his intent to hunt down Serpico would, hopefully, force those factions to act against Serpico out of self-preservation.

Harry's raids would, with any luck, force the rest of the Mafia families to excommunicate Serpico, leaving him open, vulnerable, and without ready allies. But he'd need to move fast, while the families were still reeling from the sheer ferocity and bloodiness of his assaults.

"All right. Then game begins...."

 

[Mundane Monster]

[Ivy Grace Little]​

07/01/1948
Wednesday cool night (72F)
Shimmer Night Club
08:30pm

If she had to admit it, Ivy supposed that the biggest downside of having her power was that she had to wait until it was dark to use them. Of course when it was daytime, she could use them too, but her power would be weak and she didn't want to risk getting into something and being at a disadvantage. So she had to wait until the real shadows crept out into the world, but even then her job held her back because it started at 9:00 on the dot. Then it was singing for two hours with two 15 minute breaks (maybe 30 if Katie made enough of a fuss). Ivy couldn't lie, the life got repetitive but something about having this job made her feel closer to her late sister, so she couldn't bring herself to quit.

Looking around, Ivy hurried to the back of Shimmer using her key to unlock the door and slip inside. Being a White's only club, it would throw up some red flags if she entered through the front with the other performers, so Lawrence had arranged this entrance just for her. Oh how special she was. Her friend Katie was leaning against the wall waiting for her, other performers bustling past but never failing to shoot the two mismatched women a disapproving look. Despite how long she had worked there, no one would ever approve of the friendship between Katie and Ivy, to them it was just unnatural.

"Good night, Ivy!" Katie called to her, grinning fiercely. Katie was wearing a peach dress shirt tucked into nearly starch ironed brown pants. Her shoes were black and blindingly shiny.

"Good evening, Katie." Ivy responded fighting the urge to roll her eyes at her friend's backward greeting. Of course Katie wouldn't give a damn, but if any white folk saw her showing sass, they would try to 'reprimand her' and then she would have to 'kick their asses' and she didn't like exposing Katie to that side of her. Even though Katie was about the only one who knew about her powers, Ivy didn't like telling Katie how she snapped some mugger's spine or nearly drove the leader of her sister's lynch mob insane by having the silhouette of hung men and women follow him for days. Katie was just too delicate for that. She was an innocent bathed by pretty lights. It would be wrong to snuff those lights with her shadowy tendrils.

"Why is it that we don't have a nice greeting for nighttime, huh?" Katie wondered, falling into step with her friend.

"We do, it's what I just said, 'good evening." Ivy snorted.

"Aw, well that one just sounds too stuffy. It sounds like something someone with pearls and a mink coat would say!"

"Don't you have both those things?" Ivy teased, poking Katie in the side gently. "Ach!-That's beside the point!" Katie suddenly winced but tried to cover up the sound. Yanking her friend into the hallway closet and shutting the door, Ivy immediately untucked her friend's shirt to inspect her side that was sporting a huge ugly red bruise. So it was new...But to Ivy's knowledge Katie wasn't seeing anybody, so "What in the hell happened, Katie? Did somebody hurt you? Tell me who!" Ivy snarled, she could feel her shadows beginning to dance in the corners of the closet, they knew when she was angry and they were more than happy to volunteer themselves to be tools of vengeance.

"Calm down, Ivy Grace Little!" Katie hissed, just a tinge of exasperation in her voice. Ivy's shadows and her mounting rage dissipated at hearing her full name. Katie only said it when she was really mad, and that confused Ivy. Why was she mad at her? Wasn't it only natural for a friend to be concerned for another friend's welfare? "Look, Ives, nothing happened, okay? I was trying on a pair of new shoes and I tripped right into the banister!" Katie explained, and Ivy nodded but called bullshit. A banister? What did Katie think she was an idiot or something? Ivy had gotten bruises just like that, and they were usually from a man and she was going to find out who.

Interactions: Katie Kit (NPC)
Mentioned: No one

 

[Michale CS]

But more importantly, it was a place where Harry could hide in plain sight.

After all, what vigilante in their right mind would make their base above a police station?

Funny thing, coincidence. It happens to me more than most, some say. I've got the Devil's own luck, or I'm blessed, or any of a number of colloquialisms for having good luck, and being in the right place at the right time.

Or in this case, the wrong time.

I'd barely cleared out of the little room and made my way down the old abandoned stairwell when I heard the door open, then close. Footsteps, right overhead. Of course the stairwell I was in had been supposedly closed and boarded up after the budget disappeared to fix the old clock, and the only way to access it was from deep within GCPD HQ. Again, supposedly. I'd been coming into this room off and on for weeks.

Imagine my surprise when someone moved in. See, that would have been a very convenient little base for me, right above my place of employment and all. I had only been in there twice since the squatter had moved in. The first time, nothing had been set up yet. Tonight, well, tonight was different. I saw things. Touched nothing of course, because I needed to find out which side this guy was on. If he was a Mafia hit man, being right above the police station made his target likely to be someone in the police station itself.

Tonight, from the quick look at the scattered maps on the table, it appeared it was the opposite. Whomever was up there in that room, right now, was working to stir up the factions against each other. Now, I don't really mind if goombas start shooting at each other, less work for me as a detective, but that also puts a lot of innocent people potentially at risk. And as a police detective, that got on my last nerve.

I couldn't barge in there, not as Detective Wit Tenant. That would probably end pretty badly for me, considering how outside the law this guy chose to operate. But... Gone Girl, she could.

So, I donned the mask, hid my purse (but put my backup gun tucked away in easy reach at my waist, hidden in my skirt), and opened the little trap door in the hallway near the access door. As silently as possible, I approached the door. Then I did the ladylike thing. I knocked.

@Razilin


Interactions: None
Mentions: Indirectly, The Setting Sun

 

[AshenAngel]

After racking his brain until the sun went down, Leone let out an aggravated sigh. He didn't know where else to go with all this information. He had exhausted all of his leads, and still had no way of knowing the details. It was all glossed over. No real names, no places, just companies and projects. He wanted to know who was really responsible, who was the one to write that report sheet.

He needed to take a break from staring at the papers he'd taken. Maybe something would come to him after he relaxed a bit, or more correctly, put in a few hours down at the docks loading and unloading shipments. That was his job whenever money got tight, though most of the time he found out where companies that he'd been looking into were keeping their somewhat not legally obtained private funds for research and taken a little bit to get by. He put on the black trench coat that he kept here at his hideaway, picked up his suitcase, and made his way out the door.

Walking down by the docks at night always put him on edge, at least a little bit. He could see perfectly fine in the dark, and sneaking up on him was a difficult task, but still, he disliked it. There were just too many bad characters that lingered around here at night. He'd just keep his mouth shut and keep walking, considering how his accent tended to make trouble for him. He ran his free hand through his messy black hair as he continued to think over his next move. He eventually made it back to his apartment building and made his way up to his apartment.

He wasn't much of a night creature unless he had plans involving a cat mask. Leone was really just hoping to sit down and listen to the radio without any interruptions, though he knew that he'd probably hear it from his neighbor.

 

[Razilin]

Harry hadn't been expecting the knock. He instantly wrapped his scarf around his face and settled the straw hat on his head. Monohoshizao leaped to his hand as he flung the door open and darted to the side in case bullets started flying. When, instead, he simply saw a masked woman on the other side, he actually blinked in surprise.

"So much for my great idea of hiding in plain sight," the Setting Sun hissed in soft tones. He finally lowered his blade, sensing no evil or aggression in this woman. In fact, her body language read 'curiosity,' rather than 'trying to kill a known vigilante.'

"Who are you?" he demanded. Though the tip of his sword was low, its sheer length meant that a single flick of his wrist could send it striking at the woman's chin like an adder.

 

[Michale CS]

"Who are you?" he demanded. Though the tip of his sword was low, its sheer length meant that a single flick of his wrist could send it striking at the woman's chin like an adder.

"I'm known as Gone Girl, in this getup. Geld City has been my town for awhile now. And while I appreciate your work, I gotta admit I've got some concerns." I begin. At the back of my mind I'm gauging the situation. He's got his weapon out, but it's in guard position. I've seen a tough with a tire iron take it from hanging loosely at his side to nearly punching my clock, so I don't let that relax me any. I feel the chill building up in me, and just for kicks I let a stiff cold breeze zip past me towards the man who looked right out of one of those Hong Kong fighting movies that Pop used to take me to see at the old Chinese Cinema until the movies stopped coming out - I think it's because the Japs occupied Hong Kong before the War.

"Ooh. It's chilly out here. Going to let a lady in or do I get to stand out here in the hallway?" I ask, letting another billow of cold build up inside me. If he made an aggressive move, I'd be ready with more than a stiff breeze - though how much more, I really didn't know. I was still working out this whole Ice Queen business about me.

@Razilin

Interactions: The Setting Sun
Location: The Old Clock Tower above GCPD

 

[LuckycoolHawk9]

"Yes, that's right. Dresses, formal ones. I do have some ideas I'd like to discuss in person. And I'd like to talk to you about a very important offer, that is...you might just hear a lot from me, actually." Veronica continued as she took a second to sip a little milkshake and glance to the counter. A man had come in and talked to the innocent looking server. She made a mental note to learn about him somehow, and the strange scar-like marking she had caught a small glimpse of earlier. But she recognized the man talking to the server. It was her client.

"I'll direct some clients you may want to speak with too, but for now, I'd like to meet you so you can take my measurements. As for design, go crazy! I do like the color red." Veronica put her milkshake on the payphone and spoke quietly. "Now honey, write this address down and see me there any day at four in the afternoon until six. Today or tomorrow would be great." she waited for a moment and dictated the address to her pseudo-home. She was renting two apartment units at the same building but on different floors. 1st floor was where she met clients and looked every bit like a posh office. "Look for Rex Caofino. He'll know who you are. See you!"

She put down the phone, quite excited to meet the nice lady she spoke with. She sounded very young so Veronica had to direct her to the "office" instead of the bar where she worked. Taking her milkshake with her, she walked back to the counter, noticing another newcomer who was definitely just about as out of place looking as she was. She recognized Adalberto Serpico from the whispers of the ladies. It might have been Katie Kit that told her about the bachelor.

She tapped Nathaniel's shoulder and lifted her milkshake as in a toast. "Glad you came, Nathaniel. Come this way." She strutted off to a booth and sat, gesturing for him to do the same. She put her half-empty glass of milkshake down. "First off if you don't mind me asking, did you catch that boy's name?" She gave the server a small nod. She gazed at him for a second and shrugged. "But that's beside the point. What can I do for you?"

Nathan wasn't paying attention to the other man, so he didn't even realized that he was being flirted with by another man. If he had noticed, he had bushed a little bit and wondered if he had missed something when he noticed the server was blushing and he looked around and noticed that this strange man seemed familiar to him. Had he seen him before at one of the parties that his parent threw or was it around town? He couldn't remember much about those parties since he was mostly avoiding them. He looked at him and tried his best to recollect it as best as he could. He did remember the last party they had before his brother vanished.

It had been about two months ago and it had been snowing like crazy, snow covering the gardens and everything, everything was so beautiful and quiet. His brother hadn't been running off into the middle of nowhere to fight criminals, he actually got to spend time with the man, they practiced fighting with their swords together and talked and joked, it was perfect and sometimes he wished he knew that it was his last moment with him. It was one thing to know that he could be killed at any time and there was nothing he could do to stop it, it was another when he vanished into thin air without a trace. He had tried to follow lead after lead and he hit dead end after dead end. At this point, his brother was dead or he was missing.

In his heart, he knew it was selfish to not live his life and worry about his brother, but he didn't care. Aeros had been the hero who he looked up to, Aeros was the persona for his brother and he had vanished, flown to fight some villain and never return. Scott had never returned,his brother was missing and he knew that no one knew that. It was public news that Aeros was missing, but Scott- well, everyone just thought he was away or taken a vacation. He had to remember that he couldn't say his name, he could be vague, but never the name.

He turned around when she tapped him on the shoulder. He was silently following her and gestured for him to sit down in a booth. He paused and thought about it " I am sorry, I wasn't paying much attention to what he said, so if he did mention his name, I did not catch it," he said, as he paused, and she asked him the question he dreaded. " I was curious if you knew anything about the disappearance of Aeros, he's-," he paused again and decided to lie for the next part, it was easier. " He's my best friend's brother, and he is very worried about him, "he said to her,smiling a big grin.

@Mippu ( interacted) mentioned: @Mysty @Boss Megu

 

[Banana-senpai]

Vixen
Involved: @LuckycoolHawk9 (spoken with)​​

Scent told Veronica quite a lot about people. Although it took her years to master, she could identify where a person came from based on the faint traces of the smells of a place mingling with the scent of people. As Nathaniel explained himself, she was scanning him with all her senses. She had been using this ability since before she was legal age so she had gotten pretty keen.

Veronica wasn't sure what his gloves were for, since it was a pretty hot day. What she could tell was that his instrument case contained a weapon. The sound it made when placed down was different from an actual instrument. She took a discreet breath through her nose.

He had walked, she was able to tell with the smell of the streets a little over his perfume or the fabric conditioner of his clothes. It was very slight. She also smelled smoke. Veronica searched his eyes as he spoke, noticing him hesitate on describing Aeros. Lie. She declared, hearing it in the small change of tone and the sudden grin. She didn't need to return the smile as she already was when she wasn't sipping on her drink.

There was something Nathaniel hid about Aeros, something probably important. Veronica's relaxed smile gradually became a smirk. "Aeros, man of flight. I haven't been well acquainted with him and I've got to say...you two have something in common that I can't quite put my finger on."

Scent, perhaps?

She slid her empty glass aside and leaned back. "Aeros disappeared a little over two years ago, from my memory. You're not the first to wonder where he went. I doubt he made a lot of friends among the supers, though since it was mostly civilians who looked for him. Not a lot of the supers can fly, in fact, among the active ones around the time he did hero work, he was the only one who specialized in flight...so he was pretty memorable to the spectators." She watched him carefully, entwining her fingers in front of her. "That aside, I've nothing else for now. Just that he worked a bit before disappearing. I'll look around for you, but depending on what I dig up, it might be pricey." She gave him a grin as she propped her chin on her hands. "I'll need something of his, if you wish to continue. And every piece of information about him you can give me. We can start with your best friend. What was his name? He should know about Aeros of course, I'll need his word."

She put her hands down and leaned forward. "I'm not an investigator though. Nor am I a cop. I can't promise I'll find him in person and I won't promise to save him if he's in danger. You know this, but I want to make it clear. I deal with information, only."

 

[Razilin]

"I'm known as Gone Girl, in this getup," the masked woman said, eyeing the Setting Sun's blade with the care of a veteran of many scraps. "Geld City has been my town for awhile now. And while I appreciate your work, I gotta admit I've got some concerns." That was when a stiff breeze passed through the clocktower. "Ooh. It's chilly out here. Going to let a lady in or do I get to stand out here in the hallway?"

The Setting Sun eyed her intently for a few moments longer before sheathing the long blade into its scabbard. The woman strode in and he shut the door behind her. He hummed quietly to himself in consideration, studying the woman further. "To know about this part of the clocktower, I can only assume you are familiar with this particular part of the city. Perhaps you even work in the police station below." His voice was soft, like wind gliding across the leaves. "Hm. Your hand position, as if readying a sidearm - perhaps you are law enforcement? That bulge under your skirt - this is your weapon, then? Yes, definitely law enforcement, or something similar." His gaze shifted to her hands and feet. "You move lightly on your feet and you kept an eye on my sword. You're a fighter, too. And you say you've been active in town for a while - you must be very circumspect, and good at it, to avoid attention for this long."

He circled around her, his footsteps light, balanced, and silent, with the swishing of his gi against his ankles giving the unnerving illusion that he was gliding or floating over the floor.

"Now, Gone Girl, let's talk about your concerns," the swordsman continued in that soft voice. "I intend to stamp out criminality with the same viciousness it has reaped upon the innocents of this city. If you are like any of the few vigilantes I've encountered so far, then you'll want to take a look at one name in particular: Adalberto Serpico."

 

[Michale CS]

"Now, Gone Girl, let's talk about your concerns," the swordsman continued in that soft voice. "I intend to stamp out criminality with the same viciousness it has reaped upon the innocents of this city. If you are like any of the few vigilantes I've encountered so far, then you'll want to take a look at one name in particular: Adalberto Serpico."

"Serpico is a snake, covered in the snake oil he sells to his underlings. It also makes him far too slippery to catch - at least so far." I stepped the rest of the way into the room after the man does his little dance around me.

"But if you stir up these hornets' nests, innocent people might get stung. That's what I'm concerned about. If you provoke a mob war in Geld City, how many innocent people will have to pay for smoking him out? That's my concern. And yet..." I pause, shaking my head. I really didn't see a better way of getting him to make a reckless move other than making him mad.

"You might be onto something there, boyo. The key isn't disrupting him though, it's to make him mad enough to make a mistake. You want Serpico mad? Just like any Mafioso, they've got two weaknesses - Money, and family. His family is going to be too well protected, especially since now he's likely onto the fact that someone's trying to rain on his parade, so you've gotta cost him money. Any idea on how to do that? Cause, I happen to know where the money flows in this city. It ain't a one person job, though, this. You wanna hit that snake in his bread basket? I can certainly help in making that happen." I let that settle on him. He carries himself like a soldier. I've seen plenty going to and coming back from war. This one, he's seen war I can tell. Maybe he'd be fine working with me? Hopefully I can direct his vendetta in a way where innocent people didn't have to suffer for it.

A girl can hope.

@Razilin