City of Sin (MATURE - BEGINS. LSU ACCEPTED)

[Mystic_clown]

It was a dark night. The docks were almost deserted. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of the ocean, the distant sounds of the city and their own footsteps.

Don Anthony Terino looked around as he and his men boarded the ship. They had gotten word that their rivals, the Diaz Cartel, where receiving a drug shipment tonight. Anthony never turned down a chance to sabotage their rivals and even went as far as to attend to overlook the matter.

He smiled smugly when it seemed that the Cartel hadn’t arrived yet.

However, this was short lived when a bullet narrowly missed him.

Anthony jumped back while a number of his mean drew their weapons. A number of Columbians stepped out from their hiding places, weapons drawn. Including the one man Anthony hated the most.

Simone Diaz. Head of the Diaz Cartel.

“Well, how convenient,” Simone grinned, “So he was right after all.”

Before Anthony had a chance to wonder who ‘he’ was, bullets started to fly. Men were dropping from both sides as both side opened up on full automatic.

Anthony fired a couple of rounds before diving for cover. Fighting was never his strongpoint. However, his hiding place provided no protection as a cartel member appeared from the shadows, firing on the Don.

The Dom managed to avoid the shot, and the gas canister behind him was hit instead.

The fiery chain reaction that followed lit up the entire docks.


-------------~*~--------------

The news quickly spread throughout Mirage City. Don Anthony Terino, the head of the Terino Crime Family, and Simone Diaz, head of the Diaz Cartel, were both killed in the massive explosion down at the docks, along with a good number of their men.

With their leaders and a good number of their number gone, the two most powerful crime syndicates in Mirage City were greatly weakened. Their hold on the city had slipped. Mirage City was now free from the taking.

News of this spread very quickly Many people saw this as their chance to finally grab a piece of the pie before someone else got it.

The competition for Mirage City was on.

Ok folks, the gauntlet’s been thrown down. Everyone has the chance to grab as much of Mirage City as they can, by hook or by crook (usually the latter). For those who remember one of my old RPGs “Vice City Takeover”, this is pretty much like that. You can be whoever you want (but please, let’s not get stupid folks), but you’re goal is pretty much the same. Do jobs for underworld figures, eliminate the competition (by any means necessary) among other things you’d expect in a GTA game.

Now for the Sign up:

Name: duh. You can include a nickname if you wish.
Age: 18+
Gender: if anyone decides to be a transvestite, I’ll laugh my ass off.
Occupation: this needs to explaining.
Appearance: If you need me to explain this, go back to school!
Personality:
Weapon of Choice: You’ll use a variety of weapons throughout the RPG, but which will your character use more often?
History:
Relations: optional
Other:

And now…

Name: Dante Wolf
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Occupation: Former Hitman
Appearance: Standing at about 6 foot with a lean, yet well toned build and slightly pale complexion. He has slightly shaggy gray-ish hair which reaches just pat his chin and piercing blue eyes. While his face is thin, there’s a certain, roguish quality that makes him appear both strong and attractive.

He wears a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of slightly baggy jeans with tears on the knees. Over his shirt he wears an old, dirty, brown trench coat and also wears a pair of brown shoes. He has a holster hidden under his coat, where he holds his twin guns.

His most outstanding feature, if you notice underneath his coat, is his right arm. It’s completely bandaged up.
Personality: Usually a cold and serious individual. He does lighten up on some occasions and even then he’s usually cocky and a bit sarcastic. While it takes a lot for him to get angry, he’s easily irritated and he tends to make you think he may blow your head off just for that. He’s perfectly fine with killing, up to the point where he could be considered cold. He has a bit of trouble learning to trust others.
Weapon of Choice: Duel Desert Eagles. The worlds “Love” and “Hate” are carved into the sides.
History: Dante was the top hitman for the Terino Crime Family. He was usually the first to be considered for any high-risk jobs, or when noone else was available (the Don didn’t feel the need to waste his talents on low level jobs). The Family had become almost, well, family to him. The Don was almost like a father to him.

However, this all changed two years ago.

He had received a job involving picking up and disposing of a body hidden in a car in an alleyway. However, what he didn’t know was that the car was rigged with a bomb. The Don’s daughter, who was bitter about him rejecting her advances, had tricked her father into thinking Dante had raped her. The ‘mission’ was really an attempt to kill off the hitman. Thankfully, one of Dante’s contacts managed to contact him before he got himself killed.

But not before the bomb was set off and Dante suffered third degree burns on his right arm. Quickly getting medical attention and getting his arm bandaged up, Dante got the hell out of Mirage City as fast as he could, all the trust he had in the Terino Family shattered.

Now, two years later, after hearing of Don Terino’s death, Dante has returned to Mirage City to deal swift, brutal revenge on what’s left of the syndicate, as well as grab a slice of the city.
Relations: Open
Other: He was originally right handed, but after the incident, he’s become ambidextrous

Dante Wolf - Outskirts of Mirage City
------------------------------------------
The bike skidded to a halt, its rider looking down on the bright lights of the city from the cliff he was on.

It had been a while since he had seen these lights, since he had seen the city lit up like this. About two years.

Two years. Two years since the incident, since he was forced to flee the city and go into hiding.

Dante looked down at his bandaged right arm, although with his coat on only his hand was visible. It twitched slightly as the thought came back to him.

He clenched his fist in annoyance. He hated having to flee, to have to go into hiding like some pathetic coward. However, Dante wasa smart man. He knew very well that the Terino Family would try again and only a fool would take on a syndicate that powerful on their own.

But now, things had changed.

He had heard of Don Terino's death, and the fall of the Terino Family. The syndicate was like a crippled dog now.

And Dante was going to make sure he was the one to put it out of my misery.

The bike roared into life as he sped down from the cliff and towards the city.

Dante Wolf was back.

[Drusilla]

Mmmm... cold pizza and a Starbucks frappuccino, breakfast of champions.

Or of college students too lazy to walk across campus for food...



Name: Patricia "Trish" Morgan, aka Morbid Morgan/ The Mortician
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Occupation: Licenced but not practicing mortician, hitwoman, and spy
Appearance: She has many, but outside of disguise, she has a pleasant oval face with soft angles and pale complexion that could be called beautiful, but her beauty is very cold. Light blue emotionless eyes survey everything around her, missing nothing, her lips are full but should a smile grace them, chances are someone is going to die or, at the least, wish that they would. Her ears are pierced three times each in the lobe, with a cartilage piercing high on her left ear, and her left eyebrow is pierced twice. Long, thick, straight blue-black hair falls halfway down her back, though she has learned from years of practice how to alter it's appearance to suit her needs. Tall for a woman (just a few inches shy of six feet), and slender for the most part, she has a physical presence that is hard to ignore. She challenges everyone just by being present.
Her typical wardrobe is black with dark blue denim thrown in every once in a while. She always wears sturdy black leather boots unless she needs something lighter for a job. Her body is covered in scars, though her face is clear of them, and she hides her skin with a floor-length black duster of some sort of heavy material. Should she take it off, though, the scars on her arms become apparent as she normally wears a black tanktop of some sort. Her typical attire is completed by a pair of dark blue jeans, black leather belt, and black fingerless gloves.
Personality: Bitch from hell sums it up nicely. She's not a nice person, and she has a fascination with destruction of life and property, not to mention dead bodies. Professionally, she's easy to work with; everything's straight forward, you do your job, she does hers, end of story. When it comes to killing, she loves it... loves drawing it out, loves to torture her victim, loves the kill. Her sense of humor is about as warped as you can get. Wise beyond her years, highly intelligent, and as sadistic as they come... Trespasser, beware.
Weapon of Choice: Small blades or blunt weapons. She can use anything to defend herself if she needs to.
History: No one's quite sure where she came from. A few years ago, she showed up and made a name for herself, both in the underworld and with law enforcement. New officers are baffled by how their peers talk about "The Mortician." When they ask what the mortician did wrong, they're told, "Not the mortician, THE Mortician." She's been brought in time and time again for questioning, but no one can ever get enough information to hold her for any length of time. To those she doesn't know on the other side of the law, she's coldly polite; to the ones who bring her in time and time again, she's snide and sarcastic. More than happy to help in bringing someone else in, she's known for her high intelligence and she uses it to keep her own record clean.
Now, she's out to see who's going to end up on top. With no real interest in being in charge herself, she just wants to see who can hold her interest... and who will offer her the most "fun".
Relations: Everyone knows her name, but few know her personally... or at least, they don't think that they do.
Other: She has a very slight southern twang in her accent when she's at ease, but her voice is yet another part of who she is that she's learned to manipulate.


I was going to post before class, but my internet connection is driving me insane, and I got sucked into something else... So I'll have to post later. Feel free to bring Trish in with your posts, though.

[Samchu]

Name: Matthew Anderson
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Occupation: Leader of a drugs syndicate. Has strong influences in the northern part of the city and those just beyond its borders but he's thinking bigger. With a harbour AND an airport under control, distrubtion couldn't be easier. Not to mention that with his biggest rivals dead, there's little competition for him to face off.
Appearance: Matthew stands a towering 6'10 and has a build that compliments it nicely. He's not overly muscular but he doesn't look skinny for his size either. His skin is a lightly tanned shade of copper which seems to glimmer alongside his short locks of ashen blonde hair and hazel eyes. Several deeps scars run along the back of his right hand, mostly across his knuckles which look more like a bumpy ridge than individually defined knuckles. He always dresses smartly because he knows to appreciate the importance of physical appearance. He is often found sporting a black suit with black shoes and a plane white shirt. Althought it sounds like simple attire he doesn't like to deal with anything complicated outside of his business.
Personality: There are two sides to Matthew and that makes his unpredictable at best. When it comes to his work, he takes everything seriously, even the tiniest of details are considered as thoroughly as those that might be considered by others to be more important. He doesn't tolerate failure in the workplace and any screw-ups are dealt with indefinately. Outside of work however, he's one of the nicest people you'd hope to meet. He's incredibly friendly and outgoing (it helps to get customers and contacts) and knows the value of loyalty to his business associates. He's also a bit of a flirt and his impressive skills with charming his colleagues is nothing compared to his ability to charm women. But he's a short-term kind of guy. Anything longer would cause problems on the business side of his life and that's not something he's prepared to deal with.
Weapon of Choice: He's never without his favourite black and titanium-tinted 9mm handgun.
History: Matthew grew up as the only child of a crooked cop. He learnt all he could about the streets from his father but at a price. Despite playing both sides of life, his father always believed in one thing above all others: discipline. From an early age, Matthew also learnt the importance of this. Whenever he did something that his father disapproved off he would be punished. Matthew's father kept a poker beside the fireplace and broke Matthew's knuckles on more than one occassion resulting in the deformity on his right hand. When he was old enough, Matthew made his own way. He joined up with a gang of his own and excelled quickly with his enthusiasm and knowledge. When the time came he took down his rivals, gained the alligance / killed those who had once worked alongside him and established a gang of his own. Now he seeks to expand his empire.
Relations: He's had some dealing's with Amasi's gang but only through her brother and a few others as they own great areas for potential distribution.
Other: can safely say nope, nada, butkus

Matthew Anderson
~~~~~~~~~~~~
We met at the park as usual. Amun-Ra (as he was called) and I had had dealings in the past. Without any serious hold over any of the major transport links in the city, it was hard to get large shipments in without gaining too much notice from those pigs in blue uniforms. I'd even tried sneaking the damn things in using cans and soda bottles but we weren't dealing with amatuers here and the good stuff wasn't easy to sneak in without someone noticing. That's why I liked the work Amun-Ra's men did. It caused a lot of noise and a lot of mess. The type of work that would keep a pig out of the way long enough to bring it in and clear it out but it was always on the small scale - emptying out a warehouse or a factory. But I had bigger plans this time.

"I need at least a four block radius of the harbour clear to pull this off."

Amun-Ra sat back, stretching his arms along the back of the bench. He seemed more interested in the turd-shaped cloud hovering above our heads than in the deal I was proposing. "That's a big job. You got the money for that kind of thing?"

I paused to let a child run past with his dog. This wasn't the type of talk for idle ears. "You let me worry about the cash. Can you do it?"

"What you're asking...it is big. You will have to speak with the Pharoah."

"Ah your enthusiastic sister. I've long looked forward to meeting her."

He cocked an eyebrow, though it went unseen as I mindlessly watched the two toddlers trying to knock each other out with sticks. "She's not like those whores you like to surround yourself with."

"You think me so stupid?" I waved a hand carelessly in his direction. "I have outstanding respect for your sister, especially after what you've told me. My desire to meet her is purely business-related...for now." I turned my attention back to Amun-Ra. "So when can I meet this leader of yours?"

"She's arriving back in the city shortly. If now is convenient-"
"Now would be perfect."

We took our leave of the park and returned to our respective cars. We planned to meet up again at the airport so that no one who may have accidentally overheard more than they should would think that our destination was the same. It usually worked well enough. Cops weren't exactly the greatest 'tailers' the city had to offer.

It didn't surprise me that Amun-Ra's sister had her own jet - complete with an eye of Horus clearly visible on the tail. The woman's style was unique - there was no denying that - and she certainly wasn't afraid to show it off either. The same could be said about her appearance. The moment she stepped onto the runway I knew she was a forced to be reckoned with. Forget 'Pharoah', she had the body of a Goddess, and those eyes...now there was something that commanded power. No wonder Amun-Ra swore such loyalty.

"Careful, she'll cut your hand off as soon as look at it."

I smirked lightly. "I'm counting on it."

There were a lot of other people with her - guards most of them, and each of the undoubtedly armed. One look at me and there hands shifted but Amun-Ra was quick to dispel their unease. Same couldn't be said for his sister though...that 'what the **** is this?' expression was written clear across her face. Perhaps it was a good thing that she eventually replaced it with a look of curiosity.

"Hi." She turned to her brother, completely ingoring me. He returned the greeting. "What's that beside you?" I tensed. A little.

"His name is Matthew Anderson, he has a business proposition for us."
The look she shot me was...an unimpressed one to say the least. It wasn't exactly something I was used to. "He's a drug dealer. He has a fairly moderate following. He's worked with us before - we have all the data on him in our archives."

I frowned at him from the side. He never said anything before about f***ing archives.

"He...has?" she stared dumbfounded at her brother.

Amun-Ra merely nodded.

"Then what is it?" she glared at me, a look of annoyance on her face.

I held my ground. If she wanted to give some then fine with me, I'd take it. "I have a shipment of cocaine being shipped in from Cuba. It's a larger shipment than I've dealt with before and I'm gonna need at least a four mile radius of the harbour clear to get that shipment cleared. I know it's going to take one hell of a distraction to get the pigs out of the way long enough and I also know that your men are the only ones with the skills to pull it off."

"And what's in it for us?"

"Name your price."

"Bad move," Amun-Ra muttered.

"I got this," I whispered back.

"Money for one, and not a little either. How about 370 000 for the distraction? And a cut from your little cocaine job."

The woman drove a hard bargain. But that was steep for what she was asking. Way too steep for my liking. "Make it 300 000 and I'll let you in on a 5% cut of the profits."

"Ha." she made her way towards the waiting car. "Please, take your begging somewhere else. But I gareentee you, your little drug operation will be over by tomorrow"

Some people were just more difficult to negotiate with than others. "Fine. 330 000 and a 7% cut."

She opened her mouth to speak when the one beside her - Isis if I recalled correctly, white dress, kinda 50-ish looking, wasn't that how Amun-Ra had described her - whispered something in her ear. She frowned and nodded. "Fine. When do you need this distraction?"

"Tomorrow night. The boat's due for docking at 9pm sharp."

She glared at me curiously for a moment then nodded before turning and continuing towards her armoured hummer. Amun-Ra and I watched her leave before he motioned us away to discuss the details of payment. "Did I not warn you about her?"

"She is everything you described, a true power to be reckoned with. I will enjoy getting to know her in the future - no question of it."

[Crystal Tears]

Name: Amisi
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Occupation: Crime Lord
Appearance: Dark brown eyes, multi-shaded brown hair that wavy and sexily untamed. She skin is tan and her body is something to be envied. She always has a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and has the clothes to fit. Has a long arm warmer on her left arm that is thin lace and slightly torn. It’s attached to a velvet belt that goes around the right side of her neck and back around to the left of her back. She has a lacy material hanging from the belt over her right arm. It covers a bit of her upper arm, but nothing else. Her shirt is really a black corset that is only tight enough to stay on (she’s slim and slender, it really serves no thinning purposes...) and only pushes her breasts up a bit. It ends at her belly button and has a unique gothic design on the front of Ra. Hanging relatively low on her hips are loose leather pants. A silver silk ‘sash’ is tied loosely around her hips and seems to serve no purpose what so ever. She also is wearing knee high black, steel-toed lace up boots. Has a beautiful Tattoo of Anubis on her back, which is rarely seen.
Personality: Despite her age, Amisi has a great understanding of the world and how it works. She's smart, cunning and isn't one to back down from a challenge, but also isn't completely blind. She knows when she's out matched and though it will pain her, she will back off. She response well to flattery, and always loves to have her ego boosted. Amisi is a persuasive speaker, and hardly ever resorts to violence as a negotiator. Despite this, she is quick to temper, especially when her father is mentioned. She hates living her father's shadow and despite her wits and usually kind persona, she will kill anyone who even remotely compares her to her powerful farther in a neighbouring city. Past that, she's usually sweet and caring, though her sometimes-violent displays can contradict that.
Weapon of Choice: Though she rarely ever seen holding a weapon, she's extremely skilled in hand to hand, and melee combat. Any melee weapon suits her fine, but she has mastered the double-bladed axe (looks like this... No not the dog, the actual weapon its holding...). She finds guns very crude, and many who are under her control are heavily trained in whatever melee weapon they prefer.
History: Amisi was born into crime. Her father was a notorious Crime Lord in a neighbouring city, and he decided that in the family spirit, not only would his four sons learn the ways of the 'lording', but so would his daughter. Amisi was frowned on by her brothers for being too meek and civil. So to prove that she was just as strong as her testosterone driven brethren, she murdered her eldest brother with her father's prized sword. Despite his eldest and most promising son being brutally murdered, her father was proud of her. And thus she was now the favoured child.
But being favoured had its downsides; she was now living in her father's shadow. Her remaining brothers didn't make it any easier as they began to spread the word she was a 'daddy's little girl' type of child. When she was sixteen, Amisi went after youngest brother who originally owned a small eastern sector of Mirage City. Clutched in her hands was her favoured Double-Bladed Axe, and in a swift move, she struck down her brother and made the remaining two swear allegiance to her.
Only at sixteen, Amisi assumed control of the rather poorly put together gang and instructed the younger of the two brothers: Ra, to make the underlings and lackeys of the gang know discipline. The Eldest had abandoned his name long ago, and swore a new life of protecting his sister; he called himself Amun. Amisi, though appreciative of her brother's security, ordered her brother to join Ra in recruiting and training new members.

Amisi, within a period of two months, had made the 'gang' grow into a very complex yet controlled business. Ra soon disappeared, believed dead, people on the street and lacking members in the family came to call the remaining brother Amun-Ra, supreme ruler over the coordination of the empire.
Despite the word on the street, Ra was far from dead, he had instead been renamed Ra-Horakhty, known in Egypt as the god of the rising sun, Ra was renamed this because of his ideas and tactics, which gave new hope for the 'Old Kingdom' Empire.

Though both Amun-Ra and Ra-Horakhty were powerful, neither of them could contend with Amisi, who simply became known as the Pharaoh amongst her followers. Wielder of the 'gods' Amisi was the mastermind, though not many know this, as most deal with Amun-Ra for business, or sometimes even Ra-Horakhty.
Egypt runs in Amisi's blood, and her entire empire is built around the ancient times. High-ranking members are named after the other various gods and goddesses, but all answer to her.
Anyone in the organization has the eye of Horus tattooed onto their neck, representing 'Horus', Amisi's father in the neighbouring city.

The currently known 'gods' are...

Khepri: Represented by a Scarab, male that's usually seen delivering things to Amun-Ra. The select few loyal to Khepri have a scarab tattooed on their wrist. (NPC)
Isis: Represented by nothing, Isis is an older (around 50) who's usually seen in the company of Amisi, many call her the keeper of secrets. She sits upon the throne when Amisi is out. A couple of Isis followers have a necklace with a cow-horned sun disk on their necks. (NPC)
Amun-Ra: Represent by the Falcon and Cobra, he's usually seen at the large mansion, heavily guarded by men and women with Cobra tattoos spiralling up their arm. (NPC)
Thoth: A man who owns a casino, he is extremely polite to Amisi, and is well respected and protected. Amisi has given Thoth loyal followers; a necklace marks the followers with the Ibis head design on it. There are twelve in total.

Relations: Knows Lionel, as he is called Thoth. Has heard of Dante, and has a prospective God name for him in mind if he’s as good at killing as she’s told.
Other: Not much... Oh, people are welcome to her brothers, or any other high-ranking, or even low ranking member of the Old Kingdom clan. Amisi's territory has nearly tripled in size, and continues to expand at a incredible rate.

The Pharaoh Amisi

It was quiet in this room… The seats were cushioned and silk drapes huge from the ceiling, creating an elegant effective to the interior of this contraption of nuts and bolts. The carpet was a vibrant red mixed with purples and gold’s, and the bar was designed somewhat Egyptian with a modern twist about it.
A jet: a privately owned jet by known other then the rising Pharaoh of this corrupt and vile city. But despite the rumours of the famous Amun-Ra being the Pharaoh, it was none other then his little sister who controlled the entire Old Kingdom Empire.

Amisi; a beautiful empress of an empire that was rising star in Mirage City. She had just returned from San Teros, she had been spending a weekend there to catch up with her father and give him his rather small percentage of her income.

“Why do you continue to tribute to his dying cause?” The old woman sighed, she appeared as if she was around fifty, her eyes were a pale grey and her skin somehow clung to a tan that seemed to lessen her age a bit. Her hair was dyed a dark brown to hide the appearing greys and she was always wearing some white dress with a golden sash. “You cannot save him from his own demise.”

There was silence as the young woman stared at the ground. She was in deep thought, though the sudden rocking of the plane tore her from it. She glared up as her believed to be dead Brother came warily from the cockpit, his long black hair blocking out one eye as he gave a goofy smile.

“The pilot says we’re landing soon.”

“How soon?” The old woman spoke again.

“Um…”

The plane lurched slightly, and a slight skidding noise came from outside, as the world suddenly began to slow outside the window.

“Now?”

“Ra you are a complete fool.”

“Isis.” Amisi smiled sweetly towards the woman who had just insulted her brother. “Leave my brother alone, it’s not his fault Amun received all the brains.”

Ra smirked as the plane came to a complete halt. “So Amun comes up with all the plans?”

Amisi grinned. “Yes.”

Isis chuckled, “Come now children, its time we leaved this cramped place.”

The door of the plane was already open, and the stairs were slowly lowering. Amisi eyed her brother warily for a moment, as her sights became locked on a large pistol which was hung on his belt.

“Ra, I thought I told you I hated guns.” She nearly snarled, as Isis stepped off first.

“You did.” Ra smirked, following behind his sister. “But you never said I couldn’t use one.”

“If you weren’t my brother, I’d kill you.”

“That never stopped you before.” Amisi shot her brother a glare that made his blood run cold. “I’ll get rid of it once we’re home.”

“Good.” She smiled, as if the last remark was never said.

Amun-Ra was here, which was a surprise. As Amisi stepped off the staircase and onto the pavement, she eyed the one her family-member travelled with in some annoyance. What was he doing here? And why had he brought a friend without notifying her before hand? Though an angry reply was one she wanted to throw at her brother, she bit her tongue, and instead switched her hateful look to one of curiosity.

“..Hi.” Amisi slightly smiled; though it was evident she wanted nothing to do with the overly tall man beside him.

Amun-Ra smiled and bowed slightly. Amisi let her glare pierce into her brother’s green eyes.

“What’s that beside you?”

"His name is Matthew Anderson; he has a business proposition for us." Her brother hesitated when he saw Amisi’s snarly stare stab into his friend. "He's a drug dealer. He has a fairly moderate following. He's worked with us before - we have all the data on him in our archives."

Amisi blinked, was it to much to ask that she was informed when business transactions and other such things are done?

“He… Has?” She hated sounding weak or cut off guard, but there was little for her to do in this situation. As her brother nodded, Amisi tried to rekindle her pride. “Then what is it?” The man, Matthew or whoever seemed taken back by Amisi’s snappish tone.

"I have a shipment of cocaine being shipped in from Cuba. It's a larger shipment than I've dealt with before and I'm gonna need at least a four mile radius of the harbour clear to get that shipment cleared. I know it's going to take one hell of a distraction to get the pigs out of the way long enough and I also know that your men are the only ones with the skills to pull it off."

"And what's in it for us?"

"Name your price."

Amun-Ra whispered to his friend, and Matthew murmured something back. Amisi looked rather unimpressed.

"Money for one, and not a little either. How about 370 000 for the distraction? And a cut from your little cocaine job."

"Make it 300 000 and I'll let you in on a 5% cut of the profits."

"Ha." Amisi was amused by Matthew, but amusing the pharaoh would not gain anyone respect. "Please, take your begging somewhere else. But I guarantee you; your little drug operation will be over by tomorrow."

"Fine. 330 000 and a 7% cut."

Was this man trying to insult her and all that she had built up? Another snappish remark was coming to her mind win Isis whispered to her.

“It is better to have allies then enemies Amisi.”

With a huff, Amisi was forced to agree, though mentally. “Fine. When do you need this distraction?”

"Tomorrow night. The boat's due for docking at 9pm sharp."

She turned then, no longer wanting to put up with that maggot’s presence. Isis sat beside her, while Ra had entered the car behind them.

“Why are you so annoyed dear?” Isis questioned, pouring herself a drink.

“I come home only to be greeted with work…” Amisi huffed, as the cars pulled out of the airport, and into the city. “I hate working with drug lords, and it just figures my brother is friends with one.”

“Oh come now, that man didn’t seem all that bad?”

Amisi only sighed and rested her head in her hand. The world outside was a blur even as the car slowed to a halt at the light.

“What will I tell Amun?”

“Of what child?”

“Of father.” Amisi cringed, her blank stare travelling to the floor of the car, instead of outside the window. “He will not take the news lightly; in fact, he’ll probably want to take over the business in San Teros.”

Isis was silent for a moment, unable to see what was particularly wrong with this situation. “What is the problem then?”

“I could bear paying my father, but I will not tribute to my own brother’s business.” The pharaoh sighed, trying to be rid of the worried look on her face. “He’ll see it as I’m paying him to stay loyal, thus his asking price will increase.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself dear.” The woman spoke; who was more of Amisi’s mother then her biological one ever proved to be. “Amun-Ra is not blind to your power, he fears you and rightly so. What makes you think that he’ll dare raise the cost or, should I say challenge you?”

“Because he has been showing signs of…” The pharaoh paused, unable to put a word to her brother’s actions. “He’s been shaking the faith of other gods, Khepri and Sebek especially.”

Isis remained expressionless, and then placed a comforting hand on Amisi shoulder. “Then you know what is to be done…”

Amisi looked at Isis curiously. The old woman didn’t seem to notice; instead, her stern face kept staring towards the front seat, which was occupied by one of the highest Isis loyal guards.

"Amun-Ra did send word that those punks that own the run down bar haven't been paying. But they certainly have a lot of cash to spend on whores."

Amisi was silent, and then looked at Isis, who was looking back with a cruel smile.

"Lets go get our money then." Amisi laughed, as her 'mother' laughed along with her.

~ ~ ~

The bar was beyond run down... With very little patrons, it was quiet obvious that this little renegade 'family' was a drug operating business. One that was very subtle, but very successful. They had been paying Amisi to provide protection, and it had been going well until the leader of the gang was brutally murdered, when his obnoxious son took over, that's when the problems started.

Amisi had been aware of the problem for sometime, and had even been systematically shutting down their protection. The guards she had lent to the gang had been mysteriously disappearing every day of the week, until none were left. And the cops had been cracking down on every one of their stores in Mirage City. But even Amisi's quiet little 'fuck up this family' project hadn't been working, so now it was time to get the money, or kill the leader.

As the hummer pulled up to the bar, Amisi grabbed her special double-bladed axe. Isis nodded to her as the other hummers pulled to either side of the street.

She slipped into the bar, and immediately one of the lesser guards acknowledged her presence and disappeared into the back. The others in the bar were quiet, many of them leaving. Only one remained, one who seemed not to care for the violence that was about to take place.
The lesser guard appeared again, placing a box on the counter he bowed towards Amisi.

"My boss sends his apologies, he hopes this makes amends for the hassle. Unfortunately he must separate out transactions from now on... Draws to much attention."

Amisi eyed the box, and though she practically knew it was a trap of some sort. Her curiosity overwhelmed her.

The man disappeared as Amisi stepped up to the counter, touching the cardboard box lightly. That's when her ears picked up a faint beeping sound, which was steadily growing faster.

She stared at the box blankly, her mind as numb as her body that was gripped in a unrelenting, unrealistic yet unparallel fear.

"Mother fu-"

[Mystic_clown]

Dante Wolf
--------------------------------------
Dante wasn’t one to just return home unannounced. That would be just plain stupid. He’d have to work out living arrangements, work and stuff like that before moving onto what he was really here for.

And Dante wanted to get revenge on the Terino Family as soon as he could.

Thankfully, he had SOME friends in Mirage City, mainly Grove, the owner of Club Noir. While he was slightly creepy, the man was a trafficker of information and occasionally had some jobs for him. He paid pretty well as well so he was ok by Dante’s book.

He also didn’t try to blow him up either, which was a bonus.

He had made arrangements with Grove to meet with him as soon as he got into the city. He had arranged a place to stay for him, had some information regarding the Terino Family, plus a bit of work for him.

Dante’s bike screeched to a halt outside the club…or rather, where the club used to be.

“Son of a bitch,” Dante snarled, pounding his fist into his bike in frustration.

Grove had moved the club to a new location and sold the old building as a bar. A little detail Grove had forgotten to mention.

Dante muttered to himself as he parked the bike. Since he was here, he may as well help himself to a beer.

--------------~*~-------------

There weren’t many people there that night it seemed. Dante sat lazily at a table near the bar, slowly nursing a beer. Sure, he was taking his sweet time with it, but that prick Grove can wait. He deserved to after forgetting to tell him these things.

He slowly looked around. The place was pretty run down, hardly anything here for entertainment. This place wouldn’t last long. It was so god damn boring!

However, the boredom quickly vanished when a young woman entered the bar. Dante looked over her. Quite beautiful, dark hair and tan, possibly Egyptian. What caught his attention however was the double-edged axe she was carrying. Not exactly what the average woman would be carrying around. The design also enforced his assumption about her nationality.

The other patrons noticed her too and quickly, and discretely, got the hell out of there, almost in fear. While Dante had to admit, she was quite interesting to look at (and not just because of her axe either), he didn’t have any fear for the woman. After all, he didn’t even know her.

While nursing his drink, he kept an eye on her as she approached the bar. One of the workers had placed a small box on the bar for her. Dante didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know whatever was in the box was anything but legal. Drugs maybe.

Then his ears picked it up. A faint beeping. Coming from the box. Dante was no stranger to strange beeps and knew it meant one thing.

A bomb.

The woman stood there, most likely in shock or whatever.

“Mother fu-“

Dante had no idea why he did what he did. Maybe it was one of those rare moments of heroism Dante had promised himself to stop doing (ever since the last one almost got him crushed by falling girders). He shot from his chair, diving into the woman and tackling her into the ground, just as the box erupted into an explosion. His eyes slammed shut as he felt the force and the heat from the explosion, but so far, he didn’t seem to have been caught on fire.

The two rolled along the ground before coming to a stop. Dante’s coat smoldered slightly, but overall, nothing serious.

Dante slowly opened his eyes when he noticed something under him. The first thing he saw was a pair of dark brown eyes. A faint blush appeared on his thin face, which was mirrored by the young woman underneath him.

The two laid there, a bit embarrassed by their position. Talk about awkward.

The silence was broken when Dante was roughly pulled off her, followed by a hard punch to the jaw. He staggered and fell against the now badly burnt bar. Before he could gather his thoughts as to what the hell was going on, he was pulled away from the bar, as another fist connected with his stomach.

Dante doubled over as the air was smashed from his lungs. First there had been an explosion, Dante had ended up on top of a, rather beautiful he admitted, woman and now he was getting the crap beaten out of him.

What the hell!?

Dante wheezed, trying to pull some air into his lungs before someone grabbed him by his hair and pulled him upright. Dante managed to get a glimpse at whoever was attacking him before his fist connected with Dante’s nose, causing him to fall back onto the bar.

The was not the welcome back he had expected.

TAG CT

[Dark Sage]

Name: Shizuka Akemi, "Lotus"

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Occupation: Assassin/Mercenary

Appearance: Hardly looks like the killer she is. She has short, black hair, and decent curves. She wears a halter and shorts when she isn't working, but switches to a leather bodysuit when she is.

Personality: If you aren't her target, she can actually be quite friendly and approachable. She has been known to be quite the flirt, but she isn't stupid, and won't let herself be taken advantage of.

If you ARE her target, don't expect any quarter. She strikes quickly and without mercy. She might toy with a victim when she knows his end is imminent, but she won't take a chance if he might escape.

Weapon of Choice: Doesn't have a favorite. Uses mostly traditional assassin weapons of the orient, such as swords, knives, and the like. She knows how to use guns, but seldom does.

History: Lotus's didn't exactly become a hired killer by choice. It has been a family tradition that has dated back a long time. The first-born son of her family has always been trained as an assassin. This time around, her father had no son, so he decided to bend the rules and train her in the trade, lest the family tradition die. She took to it eagerly, and is now the latest in a long line of mercenary killers.

Lotus doesn't exactly have any real loyalties or preferences, not working for any one crime boss. She'll work for anyone as long as the pay is good, even the legitmate authorities (who have indeed hired her through intermediaries, from time to time). If someone in Mirage City has someone they want to get rid of, Lotus is one of the best options.

Relations: Lotus has a business partnership with a street informant named Lou Valiant, her "agent" of sorts. Everyone knows that he's the one to see if you want to hire her. He handles all the paperwork and red tape in exchange for 30% of the profits.

Lotus has a little sister named Chihira, who's only fifteen. Chihira knows what Lotus does for a living, but doesn't let it bother her. Lotus is fiercely protective of her.

Lotus also has a boyfriend named Hachi. He does not know of her career choice, and she is currently deciding whether telling him is a good idea.


Lotus was crouched at the edge of the roof of a building in downtown Mirage. Across the street, she watched as two plainclothes police detectives escorted a man out.

She didn't know who the cops were, and she didn't really care. The man they were escorting, however, was Nick "The Dart" Montoya, a former member of the Terino Family known for his cruelty.

"Get going, Nick," said one of the cops.

"Hey, quit shovin'!" he whined.

"Shut your trap, murderer," said the other. "Consider yourself very lucky. If you hadn't made this deal, they'd be strapping you into the piece of furniture that plugs in right about now..."

It was time for Lotus to act...

Deftly, she leapt down, landing in front of the three men.

The two cops were shocked. They reached for their weapons as Nick backed away. Lotus lobbed two small spheres made of cloth at their feet, and a cloud of green smoke covered the two lawmen. They coughed for a minute, and then fell over.

They were out cold. Lotus wouldn't kill them...

Nick, on the other hand...

The mobster ran, as two kunai blades stabbed into the ground at his feet. He dove into the car that the cops had been leading him to.

Stupid cops left the keys in the ignition... he thought. I can get out of here...

The car started up and started to move away...

Nick was startled, as he heard someone leap on the top. He was even more startled when he saw his attacker leap in front of it.

Well, he'd run her over...

Two shuriken flew, and the tires burst. The car skidded and crashed into a lamppost.

Nick the Dart staggered out, and then fell over.

He looked up, and saw Lotus standing over him...

Slowly, she drew a gleaming katana from her hip...

* * * * * * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, the two cops woke up, with bad headaches. Lotus was long gone, but Nick the Dart's body was lying in the street in a pool of blood.

"So much for the DA's case..." said one of them.

"Watch me cry..." said the other one.

* * * * * * * * * *

Half the city away, Lotus sat on another roof. She dialed a number on a cell phone.

"Lou?" she said. "Contact Mr. Lorenz and tell him that the mission was a success. Mr. Montoya will not be testifying against him today."

"Beautiful, beautiful, doll-face," replied Lou. "Hey, listen, listen... I heard something on the street. Ever hear of Dante Wolf?"

"Mmm, yes..." said Lotus. "He was supposed to be the best hired gun in Mirage before Terino drove him out."

"Well get this..." said Lou. "Some folks are saying he's back in Mirage. I'm guessing that he figured the cost was clear now that Terino was dead."

"Hmm..." said Lotus. "Interesting...

"I may have to meet him... It helps to know about ones contemporaies..."

[Crystal Tears]

The Pharoah Amisi

Amisi didn’t know what to think. Had the bomb gone off? Had she died? Something had no doubt hit her, but as a heated blast made her side feel a bit to hot for a moment, she had come to the conclusion that something had hit her, but before the bomb went off. The ground came quickly and her body let a slight pain shoot through her senses to assure her that she was not dead, only… Pinned?

Amisi’s eyes open quickly to see two rather piercing blue eyes staring into her brown ones. Blush soon burned into Amisi’s cheeks, just as it did for the man who was still lying on top of her.

Awkward, would be the word that people put to these situations.

But as suddenly as he arrived on top of her, is as suddenly as he got pulled up. Amisi laid there dazed as Ra approached her, helping her to her feet, despite the fact her head was still spinning from what had just happened. She focused on the ground of men beating her rescuer, an appropriate punishment, yes, but Amisi had missed the part where he had done something wrong.

“Hey.” She spoke, her voice meek from her daze, but was growing stronger as she regained her composure. “Hey!” Most stopped, but one seemed to continue, enjoying the beating that he was bestowing upon the pharoah’s rescuer.

Amisi picked up her axe, twirling it in one had as she neared the man. With one rather simple and easy swipe, the blade sliced up the man’s back. Splitting open the skin and cutting the nerves in his spine. He fell then, his legs useless, as were his arms. She smiled, and motioned her brother to finish the job.

A gun shot rang out, and the man was dead.

She approached her rescuer then, he was leaning on the bar, blood pouring from his nose and trickling from his mouth. He was gasping for breath and seemed somewhat dazed. Amisi didn’t blame him, even if he was strong, which no doubt he was for still be conscious, getting repeated punches from any lackey of an organization eventually starts to hurt.

He his head slightly, as his eyes attempted to focus back on the world. Amisi gently held his head still, while staring him right in the eyes.

“Are you alright?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “What… the hell…”

It was a reply, but one Amisi wasn’t exactly satisfied with. At least he could talk, exceptionally well, for someone who just had received a rather nasty beating.

“Pharaoh!” Isis snapped through the door. “Men with stupid uniforms and guns are coming this way, and I don’t the man-whores.”

Now that she was listening, it was true that there were sirens in the distance. They were growing louder and louder as they all stood there wondering what to do.

“Get in the cars and go.” Amisi snapped, but then she eyed the man. “Bring him too.”

The man offered little resistance, a side effect from still being dazed no doubt. He was dragged roughing into the hummer, thrown into the back behind Amisi and Isis, a single guard kneeling beside he tossed body, a gun pointed at his head.

“I don’t suppose you have an idea of what to do with our ‘guest’?” Isis pondered, looking over the seat to the dazed man.

“No.”

“Then we should dispose of him.” Isis waved her hand and the guard cocked the gun.

“NO.” Amisi snarled, glaring at the guard and then Isis. “You forget your place Isis, I’m in charge, and I say we spare him.”

“Forgive me pharaoh.” The old woman bowed her head. “I only worry for your safety. Ties with brutes such as this can cause unwanted commotion.”

“That brute saved my life.” Amisi snapped. “He lives.”

The cars quickly pulled up to the large mansion, which seemed like something that was directly taken from Egpyt at its prime. It was a beautiful palace, with guards at every entrance and patrols the inner side of the massive walls that kept unwanted visitors out. The gate that connected to the massive place was far up a cobblestone driveway. It was large, black and was beautifully made with each of the gods symbols included into it. In the middle however, was the sign of Amisi: a much more feminine eye with a flower as the iris and pupil.

The gate open quickly and all the cars pulled up to the walkway. Amisi was quick to step out, leading the way as three guards tugged the half-conscious man along. The pharaoh's eyes scanned the sky for a moment, seeing a chopper that no doubt carried Khepri (due to the Scarab picture on the door) land in the back, she growled as everyone disappeared inside.

"What shall we do with him?"

Amisi turned to see the guards grinning eagerly. But the man, he broke free. Grabbing one of her own soldiers gun (curse those things) and shooting the right guard in the side. The other fell back, to stunned to comprehend the bullet that shot through his head with ease. The other scrambled away, only to be shot in the back three times.
He then pointed the pistol at Amisi, who just stared at him with a smirk.

"I'm not scared of you." There was silence between her and the man. "Would you be interested in a job?"

"Who are you?"

Amisi smiled sweetly at the man and slightly bowed. "Amisi, Pharaoh of the Old Kingdom Syndicate."

The man was silent as he tossed the gun onto the body of the man who it originally belonged to. "Dante Wolf."

"Oooh..." She let a sly smile appear on her face, and mischievous glimmer sparkle in her eye. "Terino's hound."

He only glared at her.

"Well your history doesn't interest me, I asked you a question and you have yet to answer it." The pharaoh seemed to care little for the man's angry gaze. "Do you want a job or not?"

"What kind of job?"

"A violent job."

"I'm listening."

She motioned him towards a table, and he approached, though cautiously. On the table were pictures of three Asian men all seeming to have a spear through a scarab tattooed on their baldheads. Each picture had a location underneath and a room number. "I want them dead, and you have..." Amisi looked at the overhanging clock. "Fifteen minutes in which to kill them all."

"Alright. Although, I don't anything for free." He said this with some confidence; maybe the time limit had scared him.

"I'll pay you 15 000." She smiled, knowing that that price was beyond being an insult. "And arrange living quarters for you."

"Deal." He answered.

"Good." Amisi smiled and clapped eagerly. "Your time starts now."

[Mystic_clown]

Dante Wolf
--------------------------------------
The game was on. Fifteen minutes to find and kill these three guys. Dante had to admit, this woman was asking a fair bit of him, but then again, Dante prided on getting the job done.

“Your time starts now.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Dante got the hell out of there. He jumped into the nearest vehicle he could find, a sleek black convertible. It took him only seconds to hotwire the thing. After all, being a hired gun, you couldn’t rely on just one form of transport.

The engine roared into life and showing a bit of disregard for the speed limit, or anyone that got in his way, tore out of the driveway and away from the palace.

--------------~*~--------------

It only took him a few minutes to find the first man. There weren’t many bald men around, and even less with a scarab tattoo on their heads.

Dante’s hand hovered one of his duel desert eagles, the one marked “Hate”. He knew he couldn’t just shoot the guy. He was in broad view, any idiot would seem him do it.

Dante thanked his luck when he saw the man turn and head into an alleyway.

He slowly parked nearby and acting as inconspicuously as possible, followed the man into the alleyway.

However, it seemed Dante wasn’t as unnoticeable as he had thought.

The man leaped out from behind a dumpster, a knife in his hand. He swung at Dante, causing the gray haired man to bend over backwards to avoid it.

As the knife went over his head, Dante pulled “Hate” from its holster.

The man only barely registered the gun in his face before Dante pulled the trigger, splattering blood and brain matter on the ground behind him.

Dante brushed some imaginary dust off of his sleeve as he admired his work. He quickly checked his watch.

Eleven minutes left. Dante didn’t have much time to loose.

--------------~*~--------------

Dante had about seven minutes by the time he found the second. He was entering a high-rise building. He quietly followed the man as he made his way to the roof.

Thankfully for Dante, the man wasn’t as perceptive as the first and didn’t notice Dante following him.

So, deciding to save on ammunition, Dante decided to let gravity kill the guy, not him.

With one hard shove from behind, the guy was over the railing and plummeting to a very messy end.

Dante didn’t wait to watch him hit the ground. He had already used up enough time. He didn’t even look at the body as he left for his car.

Five minutes left.

----------~*~----------

He only had three minutes left when he found the third. He didn’t even stop the car this time. The guy was crossing the street anyway.

Dante sped towards the palace, not even looking back at the body he had just ran over. He didn’t have time.

He arrived at the palace with just under a minute to spare. The car screeched to a halt as he jumped out and ran inside. He had to find Amisi, or the Pharaoh, or whatever she called herself.

He looked down at his watch. He seconds were counting down.

15…

14…

13…

12…

11…

Dante burst into the room. Amisi looked up from the book she was reading. The other woman who was with her (Dante didn’t know her name, but remember how she opted for him to be executed) gave him an annoyed look.

Dante took a few breathes and gathered his composure.

“It’s done Amisi,” Dante said bluntly. Amisi chuckled.

“Well done. However, I’m afraid you didn’t complete it in time.”

Dante did everything he could to keep his jaw from dropping.

“What?” he asked, “I only had ten seconds to spare.”

Amisi shook her head and pointed. Dante followed her hand to the clock on the wall. If Dante was any less of a man, he’d bash his head against the wall.

His watch was a minute slow…

[darktyranitar]

Hey, hope I can still join in the fun.

Name: Matthew “Zero” Davis
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Occupation: Computer hacker, drug dealer, ex soldier
Appearance: Stands at about 5’10”, he has a muscular built and stands at a straight posture (day in the army does that to him). His black hair is messy and unorganized, but surprisingly, he kept his face free from any facial hair. He wore black square framed glasses over his dark green eyes.
He doesn’t really have any care for his appearance, usually choosing to wear a pair of jean coupled with some plain T-shirt. Occasionally, he’ll put on an army uniform, but that is only for ‘special mission’.
Personality: He has a strange hyperactivity and high level of enthusiasm- which annoy a lot of people around him. He’s the friendly kind of person that can easily make friend with others- all the while hiding his own propaganda. He is also a coward, resorting to dirty tactic to take out his competitors and rivals. Poisoning, shooting, blowing up buildings… you name it, he has done them all. He’s an organized person, and he was never caught or harmed by the police or his adversaries.
Weapon of Choice: A Steyr AUG, a kind of assault rifle (picture here).
History: Matthew (then Alan Patterson) was in the soldier force since his teenage years, said to be send there by his father. He was a loyal soldier, and for a time, it was good. It was when he was 21 that things took a wrong turn. After being dependant on drugs for some time, he snapped at one night because his drug supply was stopped. Not only that, but his act was also known by the higher officer. He was about to be kicked out, but they never got their chance. With his mind messed up – big time – he went to a rampage, killing everyone at the army camp- one man army style.
Surprisingly, this event turns out to be planned earlier all along, as evident by his perfect getaway and a perfect cover up- he had burned the entire camp, somehow making it seem like someone else had attacked the place (he remembered hearing news later that some terrorist camp nearby was raided for the suspected attack).
Following the lead an anonymous friend of him on the internet gave him, he finally end himself at the Mirage City, a job waiting for him. He was given a job to distribute some drugs at the city. The reason he was chose: they need some experienced guy to take out the cops in case of a raid, and what more is better than some big and stupid soldier. He agreed to the job, after they made a new identity for him, fake IDs and stuff.
The jobs went well- no cops have ever caught up on them. Or rather, none of them are alive to tell the story. That was until Matthew decided that he was tired playing lackey. He collected some men and went to kill his boss and the rest of his loyal people.
Then, he begins to tap in into technology, doing into online crimes such as hacking, stealing bank account, fraud etc (he prefer hacking because it gives him the “kick”). Still, he continued with the usual business of drug dealing, but this time, he even does that via online- meaning more income for him.
Relations: He’s a friend with literally every crime gang in Mirage City, but that doesn’t mean that he trust all of them. Any group that poses any potential threat to him will find themselves either dead… or harmed. Brutally.
Other: Has a large collection of firearm that he bought via black market. His collection consists mostly of assault rifle and sniper rifle.

[Blademaster]

Well, time to go to work...



Name: Lionel Greenwood
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Occupation: Casino owner
Appearance: Lionel is a lean guy, a good 6 feet tall and weighing in at about 180 pounds. He has short black hair, perfectly styled, honey-brown eyes that can melt any woman who looks into them, and teeth the color of ivory that actually seem to glint when he smiles. Tanned just slightly, his skin is devoid of any injuries or blemishes and toned just enough to make him look muscular without looking like a steroid-abusing monster. He typically wears a fancy white Italian suit over a red dress shirt, shining white shoes, and a red tie that matches a small red pin on his lapel. Atop his head, half-concealing his face is a white hat (forgot the name - you know, a derby with a flat top :-/) with a red band around it, just above the rim.
Personality: Ladies' man - the two perfect words to describe Lionel. He is kind, warm-hearted, and charismatic, willing to do everything in his power to assist a lady in need and able to flirt his way into any woman's heart (and usually her bed later on X3). He is also just as intelligent and cunning as one would expect a casino owner to be, and, odd as it may sound (especially in THIS city), he is quite the pacifist, seeking to be the last man standing in Mirage City only in the hopes of making it a better and more peaceful place to live. Despite his experience with almost any type of weapon, he has never once killed anyone, instead using his hand-to-hand skills or, if needed, his weapons to merely injure or otherwise incapacitate them.
Weapon of Choice: 9mm Luger
History: Lionel's father was killed in Kuwait shortly after he was born; his mother later re-married and did her best to raise Lionel on her own out of a small apartment. He was home-schooled until the age of 9, when his mother re-married a man who later became a made member of the Terino family. Finally able to afford public schooling, Lionel went to Mirage Elementary, where he became enamored with his history classes, which reminded him of his father. However, interested in war and weaponry as he was, he never could figure out why people had to die in war...
At the age of 24, Lionel graduated Visennio University with a degree in economics and opened a casino, which reeled in HUGE amounts of business and tourism thanks to his ties to the Terino family, making him a multi-millionaire with a myriad of fans (and fangirls, lol) in just a few short years. He had money, girls, seemingly endless knowledge of the weapons of all sorts that so intrigued him... But what he did not have was true happiness. He secretly detested Terino's violent and reckless behavior that costs hundreds of innocent lives, and hoped for the day that the Terino family would fall.
And now, that day has come. Terino and Diaz are dead, and Mirage City is up for grabs. Lionel knows there are a lot of shady characters out there as bad as or even worse than the fallen syndicate leaders, and that means that the only way he can help salvage what's left of this city...
...Is for him to take it first himself.
Relations: Uhhhh... Let's just say that he's the male equivalent of Valkerie and leave it at that, OK? ^^;;;
Other: Lionel has a huge sweet tooth - some say if offered by one man to kill another for $10,000, and offered by the other man to kill the first for 10,000 jelly beans, he'd accept the second offer (if he was in the business of killing, of course) without hesitation; considering how much money he has already, there may actually be more truth to this joke than one might think...

---------------------------------------------------

"I'll see your fifty... and raise you another thirty!"

The large, rotund man, clad in a black business suit and wearing a thick pair of glasses, chuckled as he tossed another ten red chips into the pot, followed promptly by another six.

A crowd of wealthy-looking folks had gathered around the poker table, watching the game intently. Five men were currently playing, the pot spread before them enough to buy a small yacht. Each man looked at his hand intently, some more nervously than others...

The first man was a skinny bald man with beady eyes and a pale complexion, clad in a cheap tuxedo. He'd already lost almost all of his money, and the look on his face made it obvious he was going to lose the rest of it before this hand was over.

The second man was a grey-haired gentleman with a monocle and a thin beard and clad in a white Italian suit, who paused now and then to sip from his glass of wine (which was being refilled quite frequently). He, too, was low on winnings.

The third man was a black man in a grey business suit who was wearing more gold jewelry than Don King and Mr. T combined. He was currently smoking a cigar and looking carefully over his cards, his poker face not waning at all despite his impressive accumulation of wealth that night.

The fourth man was the one who had just raised and seemed to be winning just as much as the black man sitting across from him. He chuckled smugly as he turned his attention to the fifth man, who seemed to be winning the most.

The fifth man was hard to identify, but he was hard to miss, as well, being clad in an all-white ensemble with some red here and there, and a wide-brimmed hat that was lowered enough to conceal the upper half of his face.

"What the Hell?" the white-clad man chuckled, tossing in 3 blue chips. "I'll see your thirty G's..."

He tossed in another 3 blue chips.

"...And raise you thirty more."

The bald man gulped and folded his cards.

"I'm out." he said timidly. "Too rich for my blood."

"I'm with Mr. Benchley." the monocled man concurred in a classy, accented voice as he placed his cards face-down on the table and sipped his wine again. "I've lost enough as it is..."

"Thirty more, huh?" the black man said in a deep voice, scratching his chin. "Mmmm... Make it fifty, and I'm in."

He tossed 3 more blue chips in, then another 2.

"Fifty more it is, then." the obese man chuckled as he tossed 10 more red chips into the pot.

"Alright, boys..." the white-clad man said as he tossed 2 final blue chips into the pot. "I call. Whattaya got?"

The black man laid his cards down on the table: the eight of clubs, the eight of hearts, the eight of diamonds, the jack of hearts, and the jack of spades.

"Full house." He said, smirking around his cigar. "Eights over johnnys. Read 'em-"

"And weep." the rotund man interrupted, laying down his cards: a queen of clubs, four of hearts, a four of clubs, a four of diamonds, and a four of spades. "Four of a kind."

The black man pounded his fist on the table and dropped his cards.

"Shit!" he growled. "You ALWAYS do that, Horewitz!"

The rotund man, Horewitz, merely shrugged and reached for the pot.

"Indeed..." the white-clad man replied.

A fraction of a second later, his left arm had lashed out, blocking Horewitz's hands from grabbing the pot. Horewitz looked at him, annoyed and perplexed.

"...Just as I," the white-clad man finished, laying down his cards, "always do this."

The five of spades, the six of spades, the seven of spades, the eight of spades, and the nine of spades.

Horewitz's eyes bulged; jis jaw would've hit the table if it dropped any lower.

"A... a... a straight flush?!" he stammered.

The black man grinned, and then he burst out laughing.

"I love when he does that...!" he managed to chuckle.

"Blast you, Greenwood!" Horewitz growled, gathering up the small amount of chips he had left. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were cheating!"

The white-clad man, now identified as Greenwood, merely smiled underneath the brim of his hat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Horewitz," he said (not sounding sorry at all) as he claimed the pot, "but it's like the old saying goes: The house always wins..."

----------------------------------------------------------

Later on, the man known as Greenwood sat in his office, coat and hat hung up in the corner to his right, counting the winnings his little card game had earned for him. The black man sat across from Greenwood's desk, counting his own profits.

"Forty... fifty... sixty... seventy!" Greenwood announced as he set aside the last stack of hundreds he'd cashed his chips in for. "That's a grand total of $870,000!"

"The black man grunted in mock-annoyance as he finished counting his own winnings.

"And all I got was a measly $360,000..." he sighed, chuckling and shaking his head. "How the Hell do you do it, Lionel? No matter who you play against, you always come out on top!"

Lionel Greenwood simply smirked.

"That, my friend, is a trade secret." he said as he produced a briefcase from somewhere behind his desk and neatly arranged his winnings in it. "But I will tell you this, Eugene - you hang around casino patrons long enough, you begin to notice certain patterns; little tricks and tidbits that can help steer you in the right direction. Take Mr. Devon, for instance."

Eugene paused.

"The British guy who couldn't lay off the wine?" he asked.

"Exactly." Lionel said with a nod, shutting his briefcase and locking it with a small, oddly-shaped key, which he quickly replaced in one of his pockets. "He always took a swig of the stuff when he was bluffing - why do you think I dropped those few rounds when he refused those couple of refills?"

"And then he got a flush, a full house, another flush..." Eugene mused. "I see whatcha mean."

"Exactly." Lionel responded, getting up. He walked over to a safe in the corner of his office and deftly unlocked it, then slid the briefcase inside and closed the door behind it, before Eugene could even see a single number of the combination.

"Well," Lionel sighed, walking over to the corner and putting on his coat and hat, then stepping up to the mirror a few feet further down the wall and adjusting both, "we'd best get back out there and make sure everyone's enjoying themselves."

"And behaving themselves." Eugene grumbled, recalling a rather unpleasant situation down on the first floor involving two rival gang members a few weeks prior as he followed his boss and friend. "By the way, Lion, just what're you planning on doing with all that cash you won, anyway?"

Lionel grabbed the doorknob and chuckled.

"Oh, nothing really..." he said mysteriously as he and Eugene left, locking the door behind them. "I was just thinking of buying a little gift for a close friend of ours, is all..."

------------------------------------------------------------------

OK, done. Next!

[Crystal Tears]

The Pharaoh Amisi

Amisi was amused. It wasn't the bad amused she had gotten before; she was thoroughly amused by the fact that he had only failed because of his watch. She eyed him with semi-curiosity as more guards came in, blocking all the exits. Isis had entered as well, holding a wooden sceptre in her hands as she looked the man up and down and then made her disgusted face the ever more putrid.

"Did he fail?"

Amisi nodded, and was looking at the pictures one of the guards had snapped of the murders. She chuckled at the last one.

"You hit him with the car...?" She mused, looking up at Dante.

The hitman shrugged. "I didn't have the time to waste bullets on him."

"No. Instead you wasted a perfectly good car." Isis snapped, and turned to the pharaoh who was looking over the details. "You should punish him."

"What?" Amisi blinked. "Why?"

"Punishment!? Wait a minute!" Dante protested by he was ignored.

"He failed."

"So?"

"He failed!"

"By a minute!".

"He still failed."

"Yes," Amisi growled. "I have acknowledge the fact he failed Isis, can you say something else or are you a broken record?"

"If you do not punish him, the other guards could become lax."

The Pharaoh blinked. "But I didn't punish Amu-"

"He's your brother!" Isis cried out, waving her arms about like a mad woman. She then pointed accusingly at Dante. "He is not!"

"But you want me to kill my-"

"Amisi! Please." The old woman begged. "He deserves a punishment, even a little one."

"Now hold on you old bloody-!" Dante reached for his guns, but the guards were on him in seconds.

"Fine." Amisi sighed. "A little one, I'm not killing him."

"What?!"



"You trust her with him?"

Amisi looked over at the beautiful woman beside her. She had long black hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her body was something to be rivalled, even the Pharaoh found herself jealous of this woman's beauty from time to time. She was dressed in an elegant red dress that was something you might see on a beautiful actress. She smiled over at Amisi as they both stared through the one-way glass panel which was let them see to a rather creepy one. It had numerous Osiris statues hanging over a table with a twist.

"Do you think I should let him live?"

The woman was known as Qetesh, she was like a sister to Amisi, they had been friends since childhood. Qetesh was actually the goddess of beauty, so it was quite fitting for the Pharaoh's friend.

"Did he try to kill you?"

"No."

"Rape you?"

"No."

"Sexual harass you in any way that could lead to rape?"

Amisi thought back to the awkward moment her and Dante had in the bar. "... That's hard to answer."

"Amisi...." Qetesh smiled warmly, and Amisi shook her head. "Then he should live." She raised an eyebrow at the concerned queen of the gods. "I think somebody has a crush, on a Terino dog no less."

"Actually it turns out the Terinos tried to kill him." Amisi stated, Qetesh smiled and nodded slightly.

"That doesn't change what I said before that."

"I do not." Amisi snapped. "What's Isis doing?"

"Putting it on full power."

"FUCK." The Pharaoh bolted from her place, muttering curses when she swung open the door.

"Get me off this fucking then you bitch!" Dante snarled, not at Amisi though, at Isis.

"ISIS." She hissed.

The woman swung around, surprised to see her superior at the door. "Amisi I-" The advisor began but then 'tripped', making the side of her body slam into the start button.

Sparks full from the conductors and the eyes of every Osiris statue began to glow as bright as the sun. It looked more like lightning then anything else, it sparked at the handles and Dante was sent into frenzied screams, begging, and a large amount of swearing. As Isis stumbled out the door, Amisi ran to the power board, switching it off. The bulbs in the room shattered from the energy surge, and the eyes of Osiris dimmed to blackness.

"Dante." Amisi sort of pleaded, as the clamps of the table let go. "Dante." She tried again, lightly tapping his cheek. "DANTE."

He groaned, his face showing extreme pain before he eyes slowly opened, and they looked up at Amisi. She didn't know if he looked more angry or amused that the one who had agreed to punish him had stopped it.

She bit her lip. "Um... Hi."

"I... will... fucking kill... her..."

Amisi half smiled. "Isis?"

He nodded, though it pained him.

"Ok well..." Amisi gulped, as he very slowly sat up. "As a... Apology... I'll guess I'll pay you...?"

"Whatever."

"And a place to stay?"

He looked at her for a moment, before looking away. "Sure, why not?"

"Listen." Amisi snapped. "I didn't want you to have that big of a jolt, fuck I was out there with my friend discussing the idea of NOT torturing you. I made the mistake of leaving Isis in here, I admit, and I'm apologizing for that. So here." She dropped the keys on the table, with the room number '28' on the key chain. She huffed, crossing her arms as she head for the door.

"Sorry."

She turned, anger burning in her eyes. "A guard will show you to your room." She paused again before leaving. "And your money will be there to..."

She then stormed out, infuriated.

[Dark Sage]

LOTUS

Lotus looked through the window at the man she had heard about so long.

Finding out that Dante was with Amisi hadn't been hard. Word spreads quickly on the streets. Actually getting past Amisi's security hadn't been hard either. She knew a few tricks that the eccentric "pharaoh" had never even considered. Lotus would be willing to work for her if she ever called, but it hadn't reached that point yet.

She glared into the window of the guest room. Dante was apparently exhausted, maybe even in pain. Most likely, he had not escaped his encounter with the eccentric crimelord unscathed.

Well, this place wasn't exactly the right place for a chat anyway...

Dante next heard a knock on the window. He tensed...

He drew his weapon and looked up, and saw a scroll hanging there, wrapped around a lotus flower.

He carefully opened the window and looked at it for a few minutes. He was always wary of such things.

Finally, he decided it was all right, and took it.

He unrolled the scroll, and read the hand-written letter:

Fellow assassin,

I'd like to become more aquainted. I'll admit I'm not as experienced as one such as you, but we share the same trade. As much as you find it hard to believe, I was taught that folks like us have a bond.

Meet me at the old cannery tomorrow night if you desire. I'll be there - alone.

The city has changed a great deal since you left. Someone in your line of work can be your best friend. Trust me.

Lotus

As Dante reread the letter, Lotus vanished into the night.

[Mystic_clown]

DarkTyranitar: Consider your character accepted.

Dante Wolf
--------------------------------------
Dante read over the scroll again and again. This “Lotus” as he, or she called themselves, interested him. A fellow assassin like himself. Although Dante sensed a trap, he figured he might as well meet with them. Lotus may be of use to him.

But until then, Dante had other engagements to attend to.

Quietly and without fuss, Dante left the palace, secured the nearest form of transport (a motorcycle) a sped off towards Club Noir.

--------------~*~--------------

Dante had to admit; Club Noir hadn’t changed a bit.

It was still the bizarre, surreal place it had always been. The place had a French feel to it but there was that form of surrealism that hung in the air.

The walls were painted a pale, dull green and elegant, yet bizarre decorations hung from the walls. A number of people were there, enjoying the drinks, listening to the music, or doing God-only-knows. An elderly woman was on stage, singing something in French, very well Dante had to admit.

He looked over to the bar. The men were wearing formal attire, but one man behind the bar stood out. A pale, very thin man wearing pale blue shirt and pants, a white coat and a pale blue scarf (he never understood why he wore it). His dull, white hair hung lifelessly over his dull blue eyes.

The man looked up and a smile appeared on his thin face as he saw Dante approach the bar.

“It’s quite rude to arrive late when you yourself set the time Mr. Wolf,” Grove spoke, chuckling softly at the end.

“I’m sorry,” Dante replied tonelessly as he sat down, “Something came up.”

“Ah yes, you’re little encounter with Miss Amisi.”

Dante rose an eyebrow.

“Who did you…?”

Grove chuckled.

“Information travels quite fast in this city, you know that Dante.”

Dante simply nodded. He didn’t know info traveled THAT fast.

“Grove,” he said, reaching into his coat, “I need some info.”

“Oh?” Grove chuckled softly. Dante pulled the scroll from his coat and showed it to him.

“I need info on this “Lotus”, whoever he or she is.”

Grove looked over the scroll.

“Well, she’s quite a skilled assassin in this city, not as experienced as others, but still quite good despite her age. She prefers the use of blades to guns.”

He read the scroll again.

“So, she wishes to meet with you huh? Well, this is an appointment that it would be in your best interest to keep.”

“Is there anything else?” Dante asked.

“I think you should ask her that tomorrow night.”

Dante nodded.

“By the way. Amisi has given me somewhere to live, so you don’t need to bother with what you’ve set up.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. While you’re here Mr. Wolf, why don’t you treat yourself to a drink.”

“That would be nice. Thanks.”


Open for interaction people.

[Blademaster]

I feel like I neglected a few things in my last post, so... here ya go.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Lionel

The Desert Oasis...

Though nowhere near as large as the legendary Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, the 2-story structure was easily just as grand. A grand fountain forty feet in diameter adorned the plaza in front of the casino, crystal clear water constantly filling and refilling it via a fifteen-foot marble statue of a muscular man with the head of a baboon, the mouth of which issued for the soutain's water.

The casino itself was a large structure of no one particular architectural origin - it seemed almost to be an amalgam of scattered ideas, including a Gothic arch over each doorway and Greek columns holding up a broad, Romanesque roof, whose strange design was almost completely overshadowed by a massive neon sign depicting the casino's name.

Inside the casino, the first floor resembled something like a typical, middle-class casino, such as one would find in, say, Atlantic City. Rows of slot machines ran up and down the first floor, in between a few card tables at the left corners. At the nearer right corner was a register, where chips and money were to be exchanged, in in the far right corner were a few table games - craps and chuck-a-luck, mostly, but a few other, more exotic games, as well. Several security guards patrolled the floor, as well as a few waiters and waitresses serving inexpensive drinks and foodstuffs.

At the rear of the first floor was an elevator guarded by two bouncers; only the casino's wealthier patrons were welcome to use it. Atop this elevator (and past another two bouncers) was the true casino, in all of its ritzy glory. Card and dice tables of all varieties replaced the less elegant slot machines on the first floor, and Big Six and roulette wheels stood against the walls. On the right side of the floor was a series of dining tables, behind which was a door leading to a kitchen, where the best chefs in Mirage City prepared meals as expensive as they were delicious. The waiters and waitresses on this floor would even deliver said meals and expensive drinks to the players - seeing a man eating a Maine lobster with butter sauce in between hands of poker was not an uncommon sight here.

As on the first floor, security cameras watched each table and machine closely via a massive CCTV system, and security guards patrolled the floor for extra protection.

And right now, the top security guard and the casino owner were currently taking a break from playing and supervising the games - instead, they were hard at work in the computer room: Eugene monitored the security systems, while Lionel was using his laptop to - of all things - shop.

"Y'know, Lionel," Eugene interjected, "it ain't my position to be saying this , but we raked in over a million bucks in that game tonight..."

"Between the two of us, $1,230,000 to be exact." Lionel replied, not looking away from his laptop.

"Right..." Eugene muttered. "Maybe we should put it towards the casino instead of... y'know... gift-shopping."

Lionel, who was looking over a listing of... expensive (to say the least) items, merely smiled.

"Now, now, no need to worry Eugene." he assured the burly man. "It's not like I'm going to spend all of our... heheheh... 'hard-earned' money now..."

He stopped scrolling through the list, his eyes falling on a specific item.

"In fact..."

He checked the price listed.

A wide grin crossed his face, showing off his pearly-white teeth.

"I think we may just have enough leftover for that new wing we've been meaning to add to the ground floor..."

He removed his cell phone from his front pocket and flipped it open, quickly dialing a number and holding it to his ear.

There was silence for a few seconds, and then...

"Good evening. I was just browsing around your website and I came upon an item of interest to me. I'd like to place an order for..."

He looked at the monitor.

"... Item number K-24J7."

Silence.

"Yes, that's right. K... 24... J... 7."

Silence.

"Thank you. How long will delivery take?"

Silence.

"That long, huh? Hmmmm... How much would overnight delivery cost?"

Silence.

"Done."

************A few phone calls later****************

Lionel flipped his phone shut and replaced it in his pocket.

"Eugene," he said, getting up, "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Awright." Eugene replied. "But... leave the laptop here, OK?"

Lionel laughed at this.

"Alright, alright." he chuckled, opening the door leading into his office from the computer room.

In his office, Lionel removed an envelope and a sheet of paper (both decorated with gold trim, naturally) from his desk, as well as - of all things - a small jar of black ink and a quill pen.

With the skill of an 18th century nobleman, he wrote out a note:

My dearest Amisi,

How have you been, my Pharaoh? I see you so seldom at the casino anymore... You've surely not forgotten your old friend now that you've amassed such a vast and powerful empire, now have you...?

I jest, of course... In all seriousness, I recently won a small fortune in a game of poker, which I have used to buy you a gift.

Unfortunately, said gift is a bit too large to deliver to you personally... If you'd be so kind as to come pick it up personally, I'd very much appreciate it.

I'll send a limousine to pick you up at 7pm tomorrow evening; you needn't worry about security, as I'll have my five finest security guards with me, as well as four others (all of whom you yourself appointed me) escorting us.

I look forward to seeing you again, and I hope you enjoy your gift.

Yours, with love,
~Lionel Greenwood

Lionel set the pen down and reread his note; he paused...

And then, as an afterthought, he added to the bottom of the note:

P.S. Please, my dear friend, feel free to bring whomever you wish with you if you feel my security is inadequate, but I beg you, do not bring Isis.

Chuckling softly, Lionel produced a small remote from his desk, which bore a small speaker as well as twelve butons, each engraved with a separate Egyptian heiroglyph. He pressed and held the fifth one and spoke into the speaker:

"Nebekhau, could you please come to my office? I have a small jo-"

He was interrupted just then by the main door of his office swinging open and a tall, lanky man in black dashed in. His hair was blonde and slicked back, and his legs were exceedingly long for his size. Around his neck was a necklace bearing a golden ibis' head.

"You called, sir?" the thin man, Nebekhau, said in a voice that suggested he'd had far too much caffeine that morning.

"Your speed never ceases to amaze me, Neb." Lionel chortled. "Just where does your name come from again?"

"The Egyptian God of scorpions, follower of Ra." Nebekhau replied hastily.

"Well, you certainly do move like a scorpion." Lionel chuckled.

"Indeed. What's the job, sir?"

"You can call me Lionel, you know... Anyway, I have a message for you to deliver to Amisi."

"A message for the Pharaoh?" Nebekhau asked, surprised. "What about, sir?"

Lionel folded the now-dried letter into thirds, and then stuffed it into the envelope. Then, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a flat white box, the lid of which he flipped open to reveal a blood-red felt cushion.

A stamp pad.

Lionel then made a fist with his right hand, the middle finger of which was adorned by a ring bearing the emblem of an Eye of Horus, with the name 'Thoth' written around the bottom of the eye in small, elegant text.

Lionel sealed the envelope, and turned it over. Then, he pressed his ring against the stamp pad, then pressed it against the upper-left corner of the envelope, where the return address would typically be, leaving the ring's emblem in blood-red marker ink instead. Then, he took the quill pen once more and wrote at the center of the envelope:

'For the eyes of the Pharaoh only'

"What about?" Lionel responded, grinning his Cheshire grin. "Just a royal offering for Her Royal Highness, is all..."

He took the envelope and then handed it to Nebekhau, who's hand lashed out like a scorpion's tail as he grabbed and took it.

"Deliver this to Amisi's mansion." he instructed. "If you can deliver it to Amisi herself, it would be best; if any of her guards resist, tell them Thoth sent you to deliver that to Amisi personally. If that necklace, that emblem, and that message aren't enough, then return here and I'll deliver the letter myself. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Nebekhau replied, bowing.

"Then go." Lionel said. "Oh, and.."

He snickered.

"...Be quick about it, would you please?"

Nebekhau gave no reply, aside from a half-smile that lasted a few milliseconds at best, and then...

CLICK.

The door to Lionel's office was shut.

And Nebekhau was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------

OK, I'm happy now.

(goes into hiding for another twenty posts or so)

...Next!

[darktyranitar]

Matthew “Zero” Davis
Plug in, baby

There were a few things Matthew had learnt in his times at Mirage City.

One: lackeys are not reliable. Sure, they follow you around and do whatever you tell them, being the good dog they are. Problem is when you have the unstable one- one that might just one day get tired of being ordered around. One like himself.

Two: don’t fuck with the big boys that have their boss dressed in smart cloth. Those kind of group could easily find and kill you before you could even say “shit”.

Three: kill the lowly street gangs first. They are loud, stupid, and has the ‘let’s fight with us or we’re gonna call you a bunch of fucken chicken wuss’ kind of attitude. Oh well… good thing that Matthew’s group are trained to be a part time soldier… Matthew recall the time one street gang try to pick on one of his men – a seemingly small and weak man – only to have his neck broken with just a chop from his hand. He’d remember that incident with a chuckle.

And of course, finally: try to kill your close competitors as stealthy as possible. If you’re gonna do it, then don’t let anyone know that it’s you. Better yet, let some other guy take the blame for it.

And they say “keep your friends close, but keep your enemy closer.” Well, Matthew had followed that saying, and look at where he is now: still breathing, very much alive and kicking.


Back to work… Matthew is stuck in front of his computer, a Steyr AUG resting against his chair, his hand nimbly typing on the keyboard. Texts and objects floated on the monitor, reflected on his glasses.

It just seems like yesterday that Matthew had discovered and appreciate the wonder of internet. For one thing, it was vast, and it is also powerful; just with a click of the mouse, the world is yours (in many different aspects; more than those information that they like to talk about). Someone once told him that the internet is a brain washing device at a massive scale – he was apparently one of those that are called conspiracy theorist – saying how somebody everyone will no longer need body… some shit like that; he couldn’t really remember what the guy said, and he didn’t give a shit about it.

But it’s true…people apparently didn’t realize how dangerous the internet really is, and Matthew depend on their ignorance; he has done jobs such as stealing identity, hacking and selling confidential data of a company to its rival, creating some virus to cripple a company’s network… He even stole a tiny amount of money from practically all of the company in the world that he could hack in without being caught, and hell, even if he stole one penny from all those company, then he’d get back with a daily income that contain no less than a 5 digits. And that doesn’t even count the drug business that he and his group done both via online and offline.

In the offline… Matthew was just ‘some weird, over enthusiastic guy. But in the online… he was Zero, another internet user. It was good to be in the internet – you could be both anonymous and famous at the same time.

And the best thing is that people think that he’s just a part of some whacked up soldier wannabe, running around town with guns… okay, whacked up soldier wannabe that runs around town with guns and distribute drugs for living… But then, they never realized that their money is slowly drained away, bit by bit. Heck, even if they noticed… Matthew had a backup plan should that happen.

And lately, he had been very busy. But then again, so has everyone else in Mirage City. All after the death of the boss of two big crime syndicate of Mirage City, the Terino Crime Family and the Diaz Cartel. In an explosion at the dock, he had heard.

And of course, since he sure could use some more territory… this was an opportunity to up his group’s reputation a bit; he sure could use some respect from those lowly street gangs that are forever messing with his group. But before that, there are a few things that have to be settled…

“We need to kill someone…” Matthew mumbled under his breath as he ran a finger at his gun. He took the gun up, cocking his eyes and looking through the scope, imagining that he was aiming it at someone. An image ran through his mind.

“Bang!” he shouted, his finger tapping lightly on the trigger. He grinned, imagining that he had just gave a well shot at the head of someone that he knew.


Who?... I haven't decided yet, lol!

[Mystic_clown]

Dante Wolf
---------------------------
Dante took one last gulp of the cocktail Grove had made before resting the empty glass back onto the bar.

"Thanks Grove," he said, pushing the glass towards the club owner. Grove simply smiled.

"Would you like another?"

"No thank you. I'm good for now."

Dante got up and prepared to leave.

"Just so you know," Grove offered, "I have a few, "odd jobs" for you to do incase you're looking for work."

Dante cricked his neck.

"I'll look into it tomorrow. It's getting late and I've had one hell of a day."

Grove chuckled.

"Well, I guess it's goodbye for now."

Dante simply nodded and walked out of the club. He climbed onto shi (stolen) bike and sped off back towards the palace. Dante needed a good night's sleep after his ordeal.


Yeah, I know it's short. Anyone care to intercept Dante?

[Dark Sage]

LOTUS

Lotus crouched on the top of a brownstone.

She hoped that Dante would accept her invitation. But until then, she had work to do. Ever since the two mobs had fallen, the calls kept coming in with job offers. Crooks wanted rivals and enemies dead more than ever, hoping to grab a share of this city. She supposed it was for the best... Being an assassin kept the scum population down.

In the brownstone across the street, a nervous man paced. Two thugs with weapons stood in front of him, while he had his back to the wall.

"She's out there..." muttered the man.

"Don' worry about it, cheif," said one of the thugs. "No way she's getting in here..."

A shadowy form appeared in the window.

"There!" said the other thug.

Two guns fired. The shadow vanished.

"Did we get her?" asked one of them.

They ran to the window...

Then Lotus swung in, kicking both of them in the chest.

They weren't about to give up. They aimed their weapons again... Only to drop them as two shuriken stabbed into their hands. They screamed, before two kicks to the faces knocked them out.

The man backed up.

"Lotus, please!" he shouted. "This is all a mistake, honest!"

"A mistake, Charlie?" asked Lotus. "A mistake that you told a call girl to slip a dagger into Masterson's ribs? Oh, that was some mistake, Charlie..."

"Okay, look..." said Charlie.

He opened a briefcase. Stacks of bills were inside it.

"Three-hundred grand..." he said, starting to sweat. "It's yours if you just say you never found me."

Under her mask, Lotus grinned.

She drew her katana.

"Well..." she said. "Tonight is going to more profitable than I thought Charlie... Masterson told me I could keep anything you tried to bribe me with."

Charle slunk back in terror as the sword lifted.

"And I don't take bribes, for your information..."

A scream echoed across the neighborhood...

* * * * * * * * * *

Lotus perched on another rooftop, clutching the briefcase under her arm.

She couldn't believe her luck... She and her sister would be able to eat steak for a month after this job...

She looked at the sky.

Best get home, she thought. It's best to be there before she starts watching those x-rated movies...



Anyone who wants to interact with Lotus, go right ahead. But tread with caution.

[Samchu]

Matthew
~~~~~~
Amun-Ra and I stared across the map of Mirage city. Under the dim lights of the overhanging bulbs, we could barely make out the counters he had positioned on the map. The red symbolised Amisi's forces whilst the blue pointed out the pigs they were meant to be distracting. There were some black markers for my men as well; just to perfect the timing. It was kind of amusing in a way. In your head it all sounds so simple and then you sit down and plan it out and suddenly the day has passed you.
Amun-Ra jotted down a few notes and returned the paper to his pocket. "Now there's just the matter of payment."
"Same as always." I grabbed the suitcase from under the desk and slammed it in front of him. "Half now and half once the job's finished."
He flicked it open to check the payment was real and whole. He always checked, even though he knew I wouldn't rip him off. I wouldn't dare. His work was too efficient to risk finding someone else. Not to mention Amisi's empire was large enough to warrant avoiding and unneccessary run-ins. "Exact as always."
"Have you ever known me to be anything else?" I replied with a sly grin.
"Amisi will be pleased."
"Speaking of your sister..." I closed the lid of the suitcase. "I'd like to deliver this in person. I want to get on her good side."
"I can arrange that."
I smirked. "See that's why I like you Amun. You're so agreeable."
Afew hours later we were at Amisi's and for some reason we had the...privelige - in my case anyway - of being escorted into her bedroom. She looked as stunning as ever, even though I could only see her from behind.
"Pharoah," I bowed, "I've brought the first half of payment as agreed between your brother and myself. Paid in cash. I hope it will amend any cracks that our earlier meeting might have forged between us."
She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the letter in front of her. She didn't even look up when she asked, "Who are you again?"
Ok, I'll admit it, I was a little offended. I had only met her a few hours ago and she'd already forgotten me. Hardly the repsonse I was used to with women. "I'm Matt. We met a few hours ago after you jet landed...You're arranging a distraction for me tomorrow night."
She put the let down on the table beside the sofa. "oh...I remember you..." She twisted her head round to look at me. "How did you get in here?"
I pointed to Amun-Ra beside me. "Your brother said we could have a meeting and your guards seemed to agree. I am here to offer payment after all."
She glared at her brother and I felt him stiffen beside me. "Get out." Her voice was cold. We turned to leave but froze in our tracks when she said suddenly, "not you."
We turned and this time she was staring at me. I pointed and myself dumbfounded and she nodded. I didn't know what to do. I looked at Amun and he shrugged and left, closing the doors behind him. It was just the two of us. No guards or anything. The Pharoah, fully exposed. This could be interesting.
By the time I'd turned my attention back to Amisi she was on her feet. A gorgeous silk gown clung to her figure, its shade of silver easily complimenting the room around her. Just one thing about it though...you could see a little...too much. Not that you could see everything. But you could see so much that you started to wonder exactly what was lurking just beyond...where those thighs curved so perfectly you could get lost in them for days.
"Is there any..." a slight frown crossed her face, "distraction you'd prefer?"
I forced my gaze upwards. My God it was a struggle. "Something that will keep those pigs occupied for a long time. Just in case something doesn't quite go to plan."
She drew her attention to a statue of Bastet and stroked its head thoughtfully. A gleam shot across her eye. "How about an explosion?"
"Fireworks? Sure, that should really get the place moving. Haven't had a good light show here in years."
I saw her smirk.
"So, business aside..." I put the suitcase down and dared a few steps towards her. "Why the facination with Egypt? I have to say I'm curious, its not the type of thing you tend to find creeping up in organised crime."
"The Egyptian Empire was one of the most powerful and organized civilizations in the world for its time... Everyone knew their place, as everyone does here." She smirked again. "Not to mention, Egypt runs in my blood, and well..." Amisi took up a small Horus amulet from beside the statue and held it. "Everything they had was beautiful."
"Even the Pharoahs?"
The smile on her face was clear then. Perhaps under that original hostility there was something else...something pure.
I dared to get closer. "Because let's be honest; you're beautiful. When your brother told me about you he was modest and you turned out to be much more than I expected." I smirked. "In more than one way. But why only a Pharaoh? Surely such a mixture of brains and beauty is worthy of the title of Goddess."
"Because the Pharaoh ruled over everyone; even the gods. People would worship the gods such as Ra, or Horus, but when it comes down to it, the Pharaoh pulls all the strings." She smirked as she returned the Horus amulet and took up a piece of paper, scribbling a note on its surface. "Besides, naming the others after gods gives them some sort confidence… I don’t understand it, but I don’t much care either…"
I walked across and leant against the wall beside her. "That ‘pulling all the strings’ rule, does that apply for the bedroom too? Or are you more of a follower in that department?”

Her glare was so cold I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand rigid.

“I was kidding,” I said, laughing nervously. Maybe I should wrap this up, before I get killed. “I suppose I should be heading back.” I took her hand and kissed it with all politeness. “My apologies for any offence I may have caused you; you deserve better. I look forward to our next meeting, I’ll make sure to be on my best behaviour.”

The glare on her face was as cold as ever. “Goodbye.”

I left quickly, glad to be away with my limbs still intact. I’d overstepped my boundaries – I knew that – and now I would have to make it up to her. The last thing you want in this business is to forge bad relations with your allies. No, I’d just have to find someway of making up for my mistake. I just wish I knew how the hell I was supposed to do that.