The moon in full swing floated over the earth at her highest point for the night illuminating the city of Leiko as a beautiful visage. Vladimir - having recently taken the incentive of proving himself an ally and getting closer to the family that were housed here - had taken refuge in a nice hotel. It had become increasingly hard for him to wake up, from his exploits of chemical experimentation on himself, and realize… he had returned to Leiko City - and the thought of expecting someone was bugging his mind. There were even times, in the Presidential Suite, with the grinning clown on the door, where he mused over leather-bound volumes, placating a growing need for escape. He had noticed the change within himself some time ago, and it was physically apparent that he was no more a part of this place as much as he'd like to pretend he was. In those times, when the sunbeams broke through the dark, boarded windows of the untidy alcove, to shatter the tranquility of his daydream, only in this time did the life he hated so much before, fascinate him to no end. What funny fuckin' irony, the man that was homesick for a home that didn't want him, and the punch line to this was they'd never want him. He was a little bit older now, shedding the appearance of man for the refined brawny, emaciated alterations of his physiology, the product of the genetic defect he had inherited at birth. He'd become more instinctive, possibly from being battle-worn and bloodthirsty every waking minute, sniffing about for a conflict, just so damn aggressive and he reveled in it.
The heroin, the cocaine, the pills and the sleep aids, no longer induced the effect he needed to gain passage into the Astral Plain - the birth place of his origins - and what was worse, was the fact that the myriad had grown more audible to him, even when he was awake. By now, he had guessed, that due to his body's rapid adaptation to the environment and atmosphere around him, it'd assumed the "Mirrored Plain" was its new home. The sickness in him was returning things, which he had tamed long ago, back to their natural order, the chaos magick and the internal chemistry anomaly was showing them the truth about the god of old lore, Erebus. Even with the wisdom he had gained, he couldn't stop the ache of shifting double-layered bone and well distinguished contour and curvature standing out resplendently from within his body. And the disturbing thought, that sat within the iridescent splendor of his eyes behind those darkened spectacles, was perhaps at the rate of change, the link to the myriad would falter and he'd be left to fend off the sickness without their aid. He stood, leaning on the iron railings of the fire escape, connected to the Suite, trying to make sense of his predicament. For the longest moment all he could do was admire the candied lantern lights of level 3 under a full moon, bittersweet in his situation, but grinning at the thought of the bodies that were buried under most of the other levels. The "Iron-wrought Wonder of the New World", or so the newspapers called it. He turned to head back in the office, tugging at the victorian clothing he fancied so much, the only thing which felt like home. He fished the remnants of an organic cheroot from the pocket to the left of his purple cravat, and produced a metal lighter, flicking the nozzle that fed the fire to the tip of the cheroot; he dragged with such exaggeration before he exhaled, took a moment to smooth the growing length of the polished horns jutting from his skull as he spoke, "I feel as if somebody is going to try something stupid with me today."
Walking through the stairs was a 15-year-old girl, her red hair braided to the side very messy, due to the hurry. The elevator broke down and she would have a hard time. Having a hard childhood past, her family nearly all being murdered right in front of her eyes, her life was quite fine. She felt no grudge against the murderer at all, knowing each and every one of the member deserves being treated like such, their tongue slit off and their vocal chords sliced out. Nothing would make her happier in the age of seven back then, when all her so-called 'friendly relatives' would cage her for every mistake. Wishing she was never born, but what can she do? Over-all, her dark mind is just a filling by the sweetness and clumsy cover. So innocent, so pure… such thing to be compared by fury could be judged as a crime, socially unacceptable. Is this why she kept her image so plain? Those eyes and hands that appears to despise hatred by any form, let along doing it. The glances that felt no need of killing a single fly, although in her mind she'd bring chaos to anyone she despises.
She took her time walking on the stairs, no need to be in a hurry. Her room, in the third floor was clearly not picked by her alone. A client suggested her to enjoy the night there, although he left a few night back right after handing over her cash. It's worth it, she works as a spy, ah no.. much of a traitor that observes. Kidnapped from the orphanage, it's quite her nature to be paranoid of perhaps too paranoid to trust anyone. But this girl, Alice, not only has an issue on the object trust, she also might kill. Not guaranteed, but she's clever for a kid her age. Master of poisoning, she's quite popular at London, or at least as a killer. Which is why she moved, after all. Alice sighs as she opens the door to her room, feeling tired. She quickly unpacked her clothes, turning on the TV to see the news which is where she can observe what happens. She quickly changes to her night ware before walking to the terrace with a cup of warm milk. "Man, I'm beat.." She sighs, looking around.
She ignored the sound from her alarm clock, although it was annoying. Why did she brought such device on the first place? She simply sighs and walks lazily, dragging her feet towards the beeping object before grabbing a screw and unplugging the battery. "Fuck this shit.. I'm not waking up anyway.." She sighs. It could be recycled to a time bomb, although she doesn't plan to have anymore client for the next few weeks, unless she needs cash so desperately. Right now, cash seems pretty good, she has a living and her identity is well hidden. She walks again to the terrace, sighing. "Let's see.. I can go somewhere, or stay here… or.. ugh.." She frowns. She can't make any decisions, let alone make them for people she loves. Yes, she has a few people she'll kill last or let living. People she trust, like her mute brother she left on Louisiana. Adopted anyway so she shouldn't mind that much. But he's always better than the other sick bastards she met in her life.
He spoke annoyed as hell - at the female who spoke - by her lack of introduction as soon as she was within close proximity to him. "WHO THE HELL-do you think you are waltzing in here like you are royalty?"He leaned against the railing with horrible posture, slouching as to indicate his enthusiasm for her soon to be heard round about logic, or her bullshit rebuttals for that matter. Another drag, he filled his chest impulsively, held it for a moment measuring the weight of her presence mirrored in his flawless dark spectacles, and let go of a smoky plume of cheroot smoke. He flicked the ass from the tip, and straightened his composure before he started his descent down the tar painted stairwell of the fire escape - indicating for her and the other, whom was only known to him penetrating his verboten insanity by being his only child, to come with him - never dropping his scrutinizing glare at the audacity she had to draw up a conflict with him. "Now I am a being of reason and understanding, so I will say this...Help me UNDERSTAND, what you are doing here, and give me a REASON why I shouldn't stomp you into this sidewalk like a used cigarette.' With him it was always that dominant personality, that standing absolute without the slightest bit of care in the world. Bold in vivid splashes of Technicolor light, settling on his presence from city lights, and menacing with the taut response from every cell within him, to the prickled sensation of hair standing on end. It was even the contrast of shadow that graced his accentuated facial features and spoke of something unnatural. Yes, he was at the ready, but relaxed to the extent where he was coherent to her reply to his aggressive demands.
She stared at him, shrugging, "I got this address. Don't blame me." She said simply before yawning. If it isn't in public, acting like the little brat she was shouldn't be a problem. However, during duty, her childish and frail posture should be practiced. Alice is no good in combat, unless it's a combat with words then even the best lawyer will kiss her foot in the end. She hands him a piece of paper with an arrogant look. "One of us is moving out, and it ain't me." She barks. The paper was in a form of sealed letter, signed by a user Alice herself never actually met. He was the client suggesting her to stay there, the room pay and herself leaving with tons of cash and her own ride. It's a sin, but not the biggest one she made. She nearly did nothing, if just photo-copying a few documents could make her live everyday quite wealthy then she'll never quit, or not in a short time."Besides..have mercy. I'm 15, exhausted and restless. Ah, and let's not forgot I'm armed." She said, once again in an arrogant tone. She grabs a handgun, twirling it in her fingers. "Let's not turn this to murder. I'm too tired to dispose the body anyway." She shrugs before placing it back on her stockings. They'll be roommates for sure, probably the ones with most fight but they'll be roommates for a long time, at least until one of them back off, or die. And Alice, with her over-confident over priorities, is sure it won't be her. The older male will have to move out, like it or not. "May I sleep on the bed? Wait, fuck that I own the room." She lays down on the middle, yawning. A dagger in her left stocking, a gun in her right and just a few darts in case she run out of 'toys'. She's armed, but her ego was much more armed than a soldier troop. She grabs the pillows, in fact, she takes all the pillows . She doesn't care a bit about him, if she's being a rude bratty bitch, he might as well move out. That's what she wants, she claimed the area and what she claims is fully her's. "Night night, lets hope you live by next morning." She said, grinning a victories smirk although she can't seem to fall asleep just yet. Maybe she does find the male a threat. "By the way, what's your name? Mine's Alice. You don't need to remember it, you'll die by next Sunday anyway.." She yawns, snuggling to the bed. Yeah, she's one to talk.