The First Age

So at Jaxen's comment, Mik grinned widely and barked a laugh. "Now now, Doll, I gotcha. You don't have to worry your pretty little head. Nobody's gonna mess up the money maker, I promise." And he meant it too.

Not that there was any real danger. I mean yeah, ok. The Champaign Room- at least the one he knew of- was kind of small. And it got crowded. It wasn't always possible to avoid becoming part of the show.

So yeah, ok, Mik would make sure Jaxen was safe. No sense in making enemies with the Marveets even if his companion was currently out of favor. Whatever the wealthy felt about their wayword offspring, any hurt one of them suffered was taken personally.

And he did not want to be on the hook if Jaxen took a shot to his nose or his nut sack. Damaging the family jewels- literally- would probably interfere with his current goal of doing whatever the fuck he wanted whenever the fuck he wanted. It was his career and he was damn good at it, so far.

They followed the tunnel. It was just wide enough for both of them, but it wasn't dirty or dark like a real tunnel in the rocks. The ground was had been poured concrete and metal pipes ran along the length of the roof with light fixtures that shone at regular junctures. He knew that some of the others carried water as well as maybe gas. 

He strode deeper, feeling the pressure and oppressiveness as the rock swallowed them up. He looked at Jaxen. "Seriously, man, it's all good," He said reassuringly. He wasn't sure if the guy was claustrophobic, but it was something to say. I mean he felt it, sure. A lot. More than a lot.

Curious thing, that. He didn't like this feeling, that was for sure. He felt his heart beat faster as the air pressure changed. But that only made him force himself to go on. He wasn't gonna be a little bitch even wuth lhimself. When he was on the cross cinched tight and the black leather hood over his face prevented even the tiniest sliver of light from showing, he felt the same fear and discomfort. And he had learned to just power through it.

So yeah, it sucked. And maybe that was why it seemed to take longer that it really did. Rounding a curve, they came to a heavy wooden door. He knocked and the door opened to reveal a distinguished old man in a tuxedo. "Can I help you?" Mik smiled and in a pleasant voice said, "How are you today, sir? My friend Jaxen and I were out visiting people in your neighborhood to share some good news."

The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows climbed. Mik laughed a friendly way and clapped the guy on his shoulder. "Nah, just fuckin' with you, Dedushka." He shifted and pointed back to Jaxen. "My buddy Jaxen and I wanted to check out some of the dancing." He pulled his wallet out and swiped it to show his clip.

The old man looked from him to the clip, mentally assessing if they met the cover charge. He hoped they would. Everyone was charged differently, almost whimsically. He'd never heard there was any real pattern to it. He hid his concern, imagining the Lady standing behind the man, deciding if they could see what she was up to.

The man nodded after a moment and stepped back to let them in. It was a waiting or entry room of sorts, a coat room to one side, and a bar on the other. Another heavy wooden door was set into the opposite wall. They were still stone, but the lighting that spidered from the ceiling into this room was a light blue purple, softening to rock. A few erotic photo prints in ornate frames hung on the walls, which he made sure to check out. A cute bartender was currently muddling some herbs in a glass, a bottle of vodka on the counter. Moscow Mule, maybe? 

Mik looked at Jaxen and then nodded to the bar. Let's get a drink and then head in." He ordered a Long Island- heavy on the Island- and took a sip when it was passed to him. Nice, He said and tipped the guy.

When Jaxen was ready, he pointed at the door. "Let's see who's dancing tonight," and grabbed the handle.

It had been a good sound proofed door, that was for sure. Only when it had been opened did the sound of slaps and thuds suddenly greet their ears.

It was louder down here. The barbaric scent almost reminded him of home. And down here fewer eyes drifted towards him, their appetites sated elsewhere -- with violence or something else. It was a nice reprieve as Victoria clung to his arm like he would be able to protect her from anything. Her black belt in Taekwondo was probably more apt to protect them than anything Ashton could do. He was not a fighter. Violence was not something he enjoyed. The sound of flesh pounding flesh always made him wince a little -- even the good kind. Not that he was some kind of whore or anything, sex was not his trade, though he used it to lure the willing home. Lure them to their inevitable deaths.

None here would fall to that fate tonight. Another reprieve from his usual nights. It was rare. Tonight was purely recon. Watch this man and figure out how best to make him disappear.

Victoria leaned in close and nodded towards a couple nearby. "Isn't that him? Hiding in the gold and green make up mask wrapped up in a very serious looking woman?"

Ashton moved Victoria in a swivel like dance move so he could take up her position and check out her eagle eyed view. She giggled and dropped her head to his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her in tighter and smiled as he agreed with her assessment. "Looks to be the case. I didn't expect him to be up here. I don't think they want to be interrupted."

Victoria spun around in Ashton's arms and leaned against him. "Maybe later. You could buy them a drink."

Ashton laughed. "Maybe later." He turned his friend towards the arena so they weren't spying on whatever was going on. "He should be down there eventually. Not sure why Mistress Amelia wants him to go missing though. I've never seen him before. He's not bothering us."

Victoria shrugged and turned her head back into his shoulder and away from the arena below. "I don't know." Ashton wanted to turn away too but that wouldn't exactly work for this type of place. Violence was everywhere.

Noise was everywhere. "Let's go to one of the quieter places."

Victoria sighed and muttered "That will be worse." But they went through into the private areas. The noise was different. The fights too. Bloodier, far less of an issue. They knew where their mark would be later, so they'd head back up to the noise then. But the quieter noise suited Ashton just a bit better.

[[edited to get them where they need to be]]

As Jaxen entered the establishment, his eyes immediately gravitated towards the artwork adorning the walls. The vibrant, avant-garde pieces hinted at the promise of an intriguing evening ahead. It was clear that this place exuded an aura of eccentricity and danger, just the kind of atmosphere Jaxen relished. Thoughts meandered through his mind, painting vivid scenarios of hotly contested female battles in a jello-filled ring. The idea was tantalizing, especially if it meant getting an up-close and personal view.

With a confident swagger, he made his way to the bar, his gaze scanning the impressive array of bottles on display. His fingers danced over the options before finally settling on his favorite. With a grin, he ordered it over ice with an abundance of lime. Raising his glass to Mikhail in a gesture of camaraderie, they clinked their glasses together, the ice cubes chiming merrily.

Savoring the smooth vodka as it caressed his refined palate, Jaxen couldn't help but steal glances at Mikhail. The man was a revelation in more ways than one. Notably, he had a penchant for spending money with a nonchalant ease that contradicted the impression Jaxen had gotten earlier. While Jaxen himself was no stranger to lavish spending, he was beginning to appreciate Mikhail's exquisite taste in a new light.

As they departed the bar, a mischievous grin crept across Jaxen's face, setting the stage for a playfully provocative question. "So," he began, leaning in slightly, "you're really into collars, chains, and all that kinky shit, huh?" The words dripped with innuendo, revealing Jaxen’s famous penchant for skirting all the rules.

Before Mikhail could answer, he was led into the second room, and the unexpected view indeed lifted his brows high.

Much of Almaz’s decorations from the main level matched the tone of this private room. Daniil gave the suite a cursory study, trailing a finger along the back of a leather chair. What came away on his skin was tolerable, he decided and circled the seat to place himself upon it. An attractive young woman placed his drink on the adjacent table, but as soon as Daniil sniffed the liquid, he cleared his throat loudly. She turned back as he said, “this is wrong. I ordered crushed ice not cubed, and—“ he took a small sip, his lips curling with disgust. “—And the bitters are wrong.” When he thrust the drink on the table, it sloshed over the side.

“I am so sorry, sir.”

“Mr. Tarasovich,” he corrected as he smoothed the lines of his suit jacket. She glanced up, pausing upon the recognition of his name only briefly, hurriedly finished cleaning the table in order to see to the incorrect drink.

Upon arriving at Almaz, he vaguely assumed Ms. Asquith would meet him at the entrance. Instead, Daniil was escorted to her personal suite and told she would arrive momentarily. The least they could do was make sure his drink was as he ordered it, he mused.

Since he was alone, he occupied himself by going to the window and peering down upon the center fighting ring. From this vantage, the audience would see him, a solitary, important figure, looking out, and he would have the best view of the bloody spectacle to come. A slim smile touched his lips in the interim. He was quite eager to see what she had in store.

[[with Nox]]

Her eyes flashed as he turned into her. It wasn’t the very edge of control he fought with, not like it had been at Kallisti when he’d growled at her to back off. This time it was more like a game of who could push who furthest. But she found amusement in his willingness, knowing all she did about what he thought he had to lose. It was playing with fire, but for once it wasn’t her flirting with getting burned. She laughed at his phrasing, outright derisive. “Oh I’m fucking overjoyed.” The sarcasm dripped, which was not to say she was cold with it. Kallisti was hers after all; the home of seduction for its own sake, of tease and mockery. She pressed the bottle slow to her lips, smirked around its edges, knowing how it would shift that hungry darkness around in him.

Then he waved the wrist she held, and Ori’s grip on him lapsed. Instead she shoved Nox back, hard. Doubtless he’d keep his feet, but the wall behind would catch him in any case. She followed closer with a step, reaching to pin his flesh and blood hand by his head. Almaz didn’t take kindly to unscheduled disturbances. At least not outside the permitted areas. Such an action would draw watchful eyes; not that Ori had any problem with causing a scene. Her hips leaned deliberately against his. Whether it made him uncomfortable or aroused she didn’t much care. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just shove her off.

“To toy with you maybe. Or perhaps I’m just being an expert wingman. A little jealousy will no doubt make all those hookups a little sweeter,” she said, then bridged what little space between them remained, as though they really were lovers. The grip of her fingers was pinching and possessive. “Or possibly scare them all away. And what does your poor little broken heart do then?” She smirked at the unkindness, but Nox knew her opinions on that.

“I don’t do half measures, sweetheart. Take what you want or don’t bother.”

---

Ori knew exactly how to manipulate him.  His heart raced, both from violence and the possession her hold on his wrist above his head.  The horde scratched and clawed at his mind it wanted what was on offer.  There was a dark light to his eyes that rare he let be seen.  Since Jay his attractions differed, not that he was ever truly attracted to a woman.  He realized now it wasn't their looks.  The way the acted, the smell of their skin when he was close, the way they felt against him -- flesh on flesh.  It was all purely physical -- anyone could turn him on with the right moves.  And Ori had it down pat.  Knew fully well she didn't have to pin him against the wall with both hands to keep him present.  His own fucking fear kept him from touching her with the mechanical one even to push her away, not that he wanted to.

He chuckled softly at her wingman comment, the latter was dead on.  He'd seen the girls who regularly sought to claim him after a match slink away.  "Parading me through the levels has scared away all my suitors already."

She dared him and he wanted to give in, but giving in would be bad here.  Very bad, the horde wanted out, needed out.  A fight was better than most of the girls he'd taken to as of recent -- Ori could be both a fight and a fuck.  But it could end so very badly.  He leaned in and gently placed his hand on her hip pulling him tight against what she'd managed to get a rise out of.  But he took without taking what he wanted. He whispered, "I kiss you, and you might bite me in spite and I'd rather not go into my bought busted and blooded first." Nox let slip a little growl of frustration before he offered a proposal. "After my fight you take me someplace you feel safe and I'll be whatever the fuck you want me to be.  You want the fucking horde, and the violence it provoke in me you got it.  You want to make me submit to your fucking will, fine.  Want to take a hot shower, watch fucking chick flicks then I'll make you a goddamned steak dinner to go with and we can pretend we live in a fucking romantic comedy, go to bed, and pretend it never happened. I'll be anything you want tonight Oriena -- anything." It was a little desperate, he knew it.  It wasn't the lack of women at his doorstep.  And she'd know that.  It would likely get him tossed on his ass being vulnerable and willing to do whatever she wanted.  But he was desperate for someone to want him and possessive behavior spurred the feeling tenfold even as fake as it was.

---

“Tsk. Such a shame for you.” She watched the battle in his expression. The creeping seep of that darkness he kept under lock and key. It sparked something intense in her own gaze. Nox wasn’t what she wanted any more than she was what he wanted, but he played the right game, and that desperate need was a gift she held in her palm to crush or to manipulate as she chose. Certainly, for the moment at least, she was enamoured of it. Not because she coveted control; she didn’t. But because she desired obsession.

“It wouldn’t be from spite,” she promised, biting her own lip around a purely devilish smile. She laughed at the safe comment. And of course she didn’t move from where he held her, nor loosened her own hold of his pinned wrist.

“And how exactly do you plan to keep me occupied in the meantime?”

Nox was mildly shocked by the acceptance of his proposal. He bit his bottom his lip to hide a shocked smile before he glanced at this wrist pinned to the wall. "While I very much enjoy this, I do need to be able to move." He didn't want her to let go, or loosen her grip just not pin him to the wall any longer so he stepped away from the wall craning his arm and hoping she'd give him the leeway to bend his arm behind his back so he could lead the way. He lost the view of the seductress leading her prey and it was his turn, but he was hardly leading prey and anyone who thought that would be dead before they knew what hit them.

"There are doors here I've never tried. Mostly behind money and connections -- of which I have neither." Nox was certain if he asked he could. He made some of these people a bit of money, it earned some privileges. They reached one of those private doors and were let in without ceremony or money or much of anything other than a relieved look. Whether it was because the two looked like they might hurt someone, or that they both had a reputation of starting fights they could both finish didn't really concern Nox. They knew he wouldn't let someone get hurt. He'd proven himself in that arena even while starting fights. Unlike Oriena who has tales that still circulate the club's pits nearly daily -- how channelers brought down the house -- quite literally.

"As for what you do while I'm in the ring, that's up to you. I'll meet you outside after a shower, unless you want the blood spatter and gore look." Some of the girls liked it, others were skeeved out by it. But Nox didn't expect Ori to wait for him. She bored easily and he never captivated her for long. He was too nice -- too good for her most of the time. Only the horde drew her to him. Though he felt adrift in the world and kindred souls were hard to comeby when you felt alone even amongst the crowds.

It was distractingly different vibe down here. One Ori might actually get into, though he pulled loosened his own reins and kept closer to her. Not out of fear or need to protect her, more out of need to know exactly where the black widow might land should things get violent in their direction. He didn't want to be in her cross hairs.

[[ Nox and Ori will have arrived just after Mik and Jaxen so as to keep the timeline a bit in step without too many changes but in place now ]]

The bright light cast by sconces in the rock walls flickered. The scent of cigar smoke, cigarretes and marijuana, of brandy and whisky vied with that of leather and sweat. There was a slight haze of smoke. Only slight. The air ducts did their job well enough without being so loud as to make conversation impossible. 

Not that this was a place where lots of conversations happened. Not a lot, but some. Mik knew that more than one deal was struck down here in this room, away from prying eyes. The fights occupied the attention of most, while two rivals or whatever came to arrangements or made alliances, or plotted with one another. 

Mik had his tricks with fire, of course. But he'd also found that just connecting to the Lady's Luck gave him enhanced hearing. Add a bit of fire and air in just the right combination and, well, Mik heard a lot of stuff.

He wasn't stupid. He never divulged what he heard directly. But maybe he nudged certain parties in a certain direction. Like maybe beefing up their security in one area. Or maybe a hint that it might be fruitful to talk to so and so. Maybe he might find himself sitting at a bar or club with one of the lieutenants of one of the guys here. And maybe he spoke casually, asking the right questions here, telling the right stories there, and lo and behold the guy reveals enough that if anyone ever tried to trace how the info got out, well, old Lefty was the source, after all. Or gave him enough details to flesh out what he'd heard.

A million little tricks and ways of knowing what was going among all the families, with hidey holes like this. 

Did Mik think he'd ever get got? Maybe. The Lady was the Lady, after all. So Mik didn't get too cocky. Sometimes he let things go, let some juicy piece of intel go unsold or not acted upon. The Stoya certainly didn't see what had come, even if he had know many of their guys pretty well.

He wasn't being a dick. But not like he could warn everyone about stuff and expect to keep on enjoying the pleasure of breathing and all. 

You had to respect the dance. 

Besides, the people in charge needed back channels. Image and ego being what they were, sometimes they were forced to take an aggressive face saving position. It was a jungle, after all. But these guys didn't get to the top by being morons. The pathetic trolls who cared solely about image had been weeded out rather easily, long ago. Turns out being macho and insecure makes you pretty easy to manipulate. Who'd a'thought it?

Anyway, so when it looked like a blood vendetta was all but certain, it took a guy like him to help pass on useful information. Nothing formal, of course. But he had a role. Pressure valve and all that. Give people outs.

So where was I? Oh yeah. So you get the idea of the kind of place this was. Not anything like the Kremlin back rooms. But in many ways, exactly like. 

The smack or slap of a fist connecting with flesh occasionally punctuated the quiet hum of low conversation between visitors or serving girls, the clinking of ice against glass. It was mostly muffled grunts as one guy, head disappearing into the armpit of the other, sweaty and bloody, holding him tight. They leaned against one of the walls, their movements slow and restricted. 

Yeah, this fight had gone on for a while and looked to be turning out to be a dud. Mik thought he recognized the guy with a head. Surprising. He was really good. Whatever fool had decided to take him on maybe lucked out. As in, his ass was mostly unkicked, it seemed. Maybe the guy was having a bad day.

Well, you know just as he thought it, Head guy exploded, release the struggling man to sudden freedom, which totally disoriented him as he began to fall back. Laughter erupted from the watchers as he was making a bee line right into some of the spectators. Ahh, but Head was there, faster that thought, fist and then feet flying at head and stomach.

And then Mik laughed as the other crashed into the spectators- some doofus in a bright orange suit that might as well been a bullseye- rolling them both over. 

And then staff was there to help both up, clean up the mess, and refill drinks as the loser was led out the other heavy door at the end of the room. The others clapped the winner and he saw wallets being pressed as money changed hands.

Mik looked at Jaxen for a moment, just letting him absorb the surroundings. He probably recognized some of the people here, being who he was. It was early enough that there were no frat packs out, at least not yet. Those were hilarious but always came at the end of the night, as they got blizted and watched enough upstairs that they decided they wanted to take on one of the fighters themselves.

And you know, Mik got it. Sometimes you just needed to blow off steam. Like now. The last week or so had been slow. Not a whole lot going on, honestly. Meeting Jaxen was a good start, of course. But so far, it was all just preamble.

Getting things moving seemed right. Another glance at his companion sealed it. "Hold on," He said to Jaxen and then went to the guy overseeing the resetting of the room. It took a bit of wrangling but eventually the guy nodded. Twat. It wasn't like he was doing anything out of place.

He took his jacket off and handed it to the girl who reached out, winking at her. "Thanks, doll. Hold on..." He undid his cuffs and buttons and then took off his shirt and handed it to her. Another wink as he pulled off his wife beater to reveal his heavily muscled torso. A massive tattoo of The Lady covered his  chest and each arm to his elbow.

The VIP within the vip.

From the other side of that door, Jaxen never would have suspected to discover what they discovered. He clapped Mikhail on the shoulder as he issued an approving nod, but he kept his mouth shut for a while, surveying the room and everyone in there. There were pompous rich assholes whose language Jaxen could easily copy if he wanted. Suits finer than his own made for a mass of shoulders, though none could match his signature style. It wasn’t the cloth that made that shit look good, he mused, it was the man wearing it. No point saying as much, though. He stifled a cocky grin and slipped one hand into a pocket, oozing a mixture of curiosity and casual disinterest. While his companion slithered straight to the heart of the action, Jaxen hung back.

He wanted to know the scale of the shit he was getting into before throwing caution to the wind and leaping off his nice, safe view from high. So he watched. He cheered. He clapped at the fowls. He placed a bet or two, and he swapped his empty drink for a fresh one, but he wasn’t oblivious. He danced the very edge of the action, careful to not get himself accidentally pulled into it. No point ruining his fine clothes. It was a particularly good strategy on Jaxen’s part when the fight suddenly amplified, ending with one sweaty meat head crashing through the spectators steps away from him. He exchanged a that was close sort of comical look with Mikhail, but it was quickly followed by another surprising revelation.

Mik peeled himself away, doffed his shirt, and stepped into the center of attention. Every face in the room turned to him. Hell, he might as well have had a spotlight cascading across his rippling traps that seemed to cut from his arms straight to his neck.

He slipped to the side of the room, flashing his wallet, account app hot and ready to drain. “Now I have to put down on my boy,” he smirked as the money was placed on hold. Others crowded his shoulders, offering similar bets of their own.

Afterward, Jaxen squeezed to the front and in unison with his neighbor, both issued a wince of pain followed by yells to do it again.

Mik was properly kicking ass, and Jaxen was thoroughly enjoying himself, when he scanned the faces of the circle once more. There he was, innocent and seductive as ever, wearing the face of an angel covering the thirst of a demon, right there amid everyone else completely oblivious to the depraved figure in their midst.

And for a good thirty seconds, Jaxen forgot about the fight and stared at the cannibal among them.

Some random patron stepped into the ring.  Ashton wasn't a regular here, this was hardly the place to find his down and out marks the Blackthorns really liked.  People here go missing and someone's going to notice.  And the man he was stalking was going to be missed.  He spied him and the woman he was with walk into the very room they were in.  He stared across the fighting arena as they entered. 

His eyes floated across other individuals.  The man in the ring threw a punch and Victoria winced and pressed closer to him.  Not that he could protect her from these brutes.  That's what Max was for, not him.  Maybe he should have brought Max instead of Vic.  "We can go, if it's too much." 

Victoria smiled and shook her head, resting it on his shoulder so she could bury her face when the violence got to much, but she watched with a small shake of excitement strumming through her body.  She was like her family -- but not evil.  She'd been there when Taylor was eaten.  She had not partaken of the meal his friend had made, but she was there.  They all were.

Ashton's eyes crossed the pit of violence and noticed a man staring at him.  His blood ran cold as recognition ignited in both their eyes.  "We have to go.  Now."  Ashton wrapped Victoria up and she obeyed with ease as his voice did the thing it did.  He hadn't meant to coerced her, but he was scared and emotions played a large part in what he did.  His or others, didn't matter.

Victoria scurried off in front of him but making her way through the crowd met with more resistance than if would have lead.  "Ash, what's wrong?"

"You remember Cedric's friend who got murderer by the monster hunters?"

Victoria gasped. "Are they here?"

Ashton shook his head. "No.  The man they saved is.  Jaxen Marveet.  I told Cedric this was going to be bad. Sophi didn't know.  She just pulled a random drunk off the street.  Didn't even bother to lift a wallet or anything.  Just assumed.  And Cedric had it in for the Mavreet's anyway and kept him locked up.  Kept him a live to torture him instead of..."  He let the sentence trail off as he lost the very man he was running from in the crowd.  "Shit!"

[[ooc: I can change bits of the backstory if it don't work for you Jaxen.  And I'm not assuming Jaxen moved, just that Ashton lost him in the crowd but feel free to do whatever except kill Ashton please  ]]

The display put on by the two children made Jacob want to laugh.  And cry.  And feel for what was lost.  There was still a part of the boy he knew in him.  He saw it in his eyes, there was darkness there.  The willingness to do whatever it took to get what you wanted.  It was there suppressed by the man he'd become now.  Jacob wondered what happened to him.  He let his attention to their on goings wander until they moved and he followed discretely through the crowd.  He still was going to kill the boy.  Or use him.  If he could get the old kid back.  He'd be useful.

The door baring their way opened with ease.  Jacob on the other hand didn't have such luck.  He was turned away at the door.  Money wasn't going to get him through this one.  "The kid who just went in.  What ring will he be in?"

The man at the door shrugged. "Main one probably. He's not a brawler.  Neither is she."

Jacob nodded his thanks and went up to the ring where he would appear.  The mystery guest didn't appeal to Jacob, he heard the roars of creatures below.  It didn't bode well.