The First Age

Jaxen lounged on his couch, scrolling through his wallet absentmindedly. His fingers froze as a notification popped up, updating Nox's contact information. He blinked, barely believing his eyes. Nox had finally bought a house.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Well, well, Nox. You’ve finally settled down,” he murmured to himself. His mind whirred with possibilities, and an idea began to form, wicked and delightful. What better way to welcome Nox to his new home than by throwing a clandestine, invite-only party?

Jaxen hopped to his basement work station. In moments, Voxel Adams was online, contacting his network. Fingers flew over the keyboard, typing out the message:

Quote:**Subject: Exclusive Housewarming Party**

Greetings, phantoms,

Join me for an exclusive, masked housewarming party.

Date: This Saturday
Time: 11 PM
Address: [Nox's address]

Rules:
1. Arrive in full face mask.
2. Wear your MY NAME IS sticker.
3. Maintain anonymity—masks stay on at all times—even if everything else comes off.

See you in the shadows.

Voxel Adams

Satisfied, Jaxen hit send. He chuckled, imagining Nox's face when he discovered his home teeming with masked hackers.

He wore an off-the-rack black suit, like something James Bond would choose when he wanted to blend in. His mask, however, was a devilishly retro selection, complete with a sinister smile, twirled mustache, and red horns. To add a final touch of irony, Jaxen pinned a small, bright pink Hello Kitty badge to his lapel. A sticker on his chest boldly declared, "Voxel Adams.”

He arrived at Nox's house just as the thick of night was approaching. The place was already buzzing with music, the lighting low and dramatic, and crates of alcohol were waiting. The MY NAME IS stickers were laid out at the door, sharpie marker ready.

Jaxen slipped inside, making himself at home.



((Anyone can come. Assume the invites get shared around)).

His tablet beeped with a message, but he didn't pay much mind to it while he worked. It could wait. It wasn't from the IT department or anything, and he was busy. By the time he got to it he was sitting in bed with his laptop popping around the dark web and various other places when he noticed Thyme had a message, which reminded him of his tablet. He read the message and laughed heartily. Voxel Adams had invited a lot more than his personas but still he was included and made it into a collective. Both Catch and Thyme made it into at least some infamy and Liam giggled as he thought about what he would wear.

He had a few days to get ready. He bounced around his mother's apartment, thinking about what to wear. Gideon, his cousin, stopped by and Liam couldn't shut up about the party. He spilled all the details, the full masks. The time and that it was a bunch of hackers with hacker names.

It wasn't until Liam sat down for the night that he saw Point Break clips and searched the internet for the perfect mask. And it wasn't hard to use his skills to get it to him in time for the Saturday party.

---

Liam wore a pair of cut off jeans that he'd painstaking washed until it was ragged and frayed. The t-shirt he work was perfect for the whole Point Break surfer motif he was going for. He even wore flip-flops and it was sooooo cold outside, he decided to put on a pair of books like a kid and carried them with him. The mask made it perfect. He'd only been able to find Ronald Regan, maybe he should have just found one of the Ascendancy -- a tribute but not essentially the whole bank robber theme of point break.

His other biggest dilemma had been who he was going as. Catch really shouldn't be seen mingling with other hooligans. His dad might get wind of it. But Thyme he could go. But Liam had to sneak out of the house to go anyway. Thankfully, that wasn't hard. He'd been doing that for years. His mother always worked late and slept with a pill and wine. His dad was usually too busy to notice he was gone. And he just had to get up in the morning. Lots of things to juggle.

But Liam was happily spouting the "My name is Thyme" name tag as he walked into the very modern apartment. There were a lot of people fully masked already.

The alert made Sage jump. He hadn't expected it. An invite from Voxel Adams to Nox's new address. What the fuck? It wasn't like they were that good of friends, why didn't Nox tell him. But where was Nox even at? Sage hadn't heard from since he got back. It was concerning. And then this message. Sage was on lookout for Nox now, his feeds scouring everything between Kallisti and his new home, the almaz everything. He didn't find him, he saw the kid talk him into going, but then Sage lost track of them. He wasn't sure how, but it was like someone had killed the feeds. Another hacker maybe. Maybe one of those from the m’Antinomian. But Aiden called him and he stepped away from the feeds and got distracted with everything else until the day of the party and he hadn't even thought about what to wear. Or what to use as a mask.

It wasn't hard to just go shopping. Aiden might even take a few minutes out of his day to go with him, but Sage didn't ask, he was involved with his spear and book and everything else so he did it alone. He was okay with that, he didn't need company, he could watch aiden from afar anyway. And he did like usual as he rode around in the back of the car he was told to use. Not that he couldn't afford his own driver he just didn't.

It didn't take long for Sage to find the perfect mask. The red screaming mask inside of his black hoodie would be perfect guise of the Wicked Truth. He'd never have work anything like that for Phaser. Phaser wouldn't have shown up at a party like this -- he was too elite and beside everyone knew how to hang with him in Alexandria anyway -- at the Den. He did miss his old haunt and home. Another reason he liked Nox -- it reminded him of home. Aiden too. They weren't too Moscovian -- yet.

It was a good thing that he'd found what he needed because now Nox was calling him. He seemed dark and far away -- lost in whatever hell had captured him and he needed immediate assistance which Sage was all to happy to help.

And in the aftermath of it all he even sent Jensen James his way all before arriving a little early at the house to make sure the kids that had just arrived were squared away in the house and away from all the hackers and their prying eyes. He did his best to barricade the top off -- Nox could do it easily with his power, but Sage just used some chains he'd found in the basement. A sign wouldn't help but it'd keep people off the top floor for a little while anyway. As long as no one was eager to bang another with their masks on. No hacker wanted to reveal who they were really so getting naked wasn't something a lot would do -- at least not in their hacker faces. Sage definitely had no intentions of hooking up -- not that he needed to he had a hot rockstar at home. But the kids were innocent and been through enough. He'd sit at the top of the stairs if he had to. But for now he mingled with the others in the lower floors of the four story building. All of the entertainment should be down stairs, though Nox probably wouldn't notice if anything was taken -- Sage would, he'd procurde it all. So it was all like his stuff in his head anyway. Though it was Nox's money ... so, there was that too.

The music blared through Nox's speaker system. There was no real DJ -- who needed one when the hackers were just going to hijack it anyway. Sage made sure the computer office room was locked up tight. He put his own personal security algorithm on it and it alerted him anytime someone tried to hack into the lock. No one was fucking with that equipment and Nox hadn't even connected it to the internet like a good little boy. He hadn't even been home very long from what he could tell. They'd done some work but that was about it. And then he was out feeding his darkness. He never knew what was waiting in his home.

He was going to be either really pissed off, or he was going to just shrug it off. Sage wasn't sure which as he pasted his name tag to his black hoodie boldly proclaiming he was the wicked truth in hexcode with a red sharpie. [badge reads: 54 68 65 20 57 69 63 6B 65 64 20 54 72 75 74 68]

[[ Totally OOC post to describe the place since Nox won't be there for a bit ]]

The building is a 4 story building on the corner in the red light district, not too far from Kallisti. The first floor has two offices looking out on one street, and a single door on the other corner street that leads into the living space.

Once inside the living space door there is a foray which has mailboxes and stairs to the left, a door marked 'employees only' on the left side of the room, it's pretty empty otherwise. The stairs go up to the living space, and down into Nox's dojo, laundry and an extra sleeping space.

Upstairs leads to a single door after the first flight. The door opens into another similiar foray like down stairs with stairs going up. The living room and kitchen have an open concept with modern clean lines., there is a hall that leads to a full bath, and terminates in the computer office door that sage is currently watching.

There are two floors above the living room, which consist of 3 bedrooms, 2 share a bath room, and 1 is the master, the fourth floor is identical, but Sage has a chain across the top landing to hopefully keep people from it. The rooms above the computer/office at the end of the halls each have balconies. Nox is currently got his bag of stuff on the bed in the third floor master bedroom. There is nothing dangerous in his bag at the moment.

Gideon considered it a heartfelt duty to look out for family, and of course that was precisely why he decided to crash the super-secret, invite-only hacker party little cousin Liam was so excited about. Granted, a mask seemed an absolute crime against such a perfect face, but it was a sacrifice he made (oh bleeding heart). And in some small consolation of course the mask was a fucking work of art.

He was concealed in an elaborate white volto, complete with gold filigree and winged temples, and topped with an ivory plumed tricorn. A pale blue silk jacket draped his shoulders, open and sans shirt (too hot, especially with the mask), which left the nametag pasted against sunkissed skin. It simply said “Herald” though of course he had no legit invite to be here, nor an actual identity to hide, and the name plucked from the sky. Or, well, more accurately from the copious amounts of alcohol heralded in with his arrival, just in case the kind of house party a sixteen year old creamed himself over turned out to be lame.

He eyed the other guests with open curiosity and what would have been a rakish grin had it been visible. Most were yawnworthy in their efforts – he guessed they really did take the anonymity shit seriously. Though one desert-skinned woman played a little loose with the rules, hidden behind a small oval of black velvet that smoothed from brow to beneath her lower lip, with no opening for nose or mouth or any ribbon to suggest how it was fastened to her face. It was plain, featureless, and a little eerie, catching his attention only because he recognised it as a Moretta Muta. His eyes dipped naturally south, in anticipation of what a 16th century Venetian woman had traditionally worn beneath. She saw him looking, her large eyes sly in that void of a face, but he didn’t even catch her nametag before she’d disappeared. 

As he wandered he kept an eye out for Liam, but he was a decent cousin, he wouldn’t cramp the kid’s style by letting on he was here. He also rifled a bit, but there was frankly little of personality dotted about to reveal exactly whose place this was. Maybe that was part of the weird MO. In the heart of Moscow it probably cost a pretty penny, but it didn’t scream the interesting sort of wealthy either. Content for now with the novelty of his surroundings, Gideon found himself staring in appreciation at two girls dancing with each other who’d donned not the requisite masks but full face prosthetics. At least he thought that the case – who the fuck even knew these days? It gave them an alien and ethereal quality, and when one glanced his way, he tipped his hat. Narcissus and Camellia, their tags read.

The party was in full swing when Seven arrived. even's attire was a masterclass in avant-garde fashion. He wore a tailored asymmetrical jacket in deep emerald green, the fabric catching the light in a way that suggested opulence without screaming for attention. Beneath the jacket, he sported a loose, silk shirt in a muted gold, the fabric flowing and shimmering with his every movement. His trousers were slim, black denim, artfully distressed to reveal hints of metallic thread woven through, catching the light around his hips in unexpected ways.

Seven strode up to the door, his movements smooth and assured. He glanced at the MY NAME IS stickers and the sharpie marker. As Seven was his masqueraded name, he went ahead and penned it down. The invite had come from one of his many underworld connections, a discreet but influential broker who trafficked in information and exclusive opportunities. When the broker mentioned a masked housewarming party at Nox’s new abode, Seven knew it was an event he couldn’t miss.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. Masked individuals moved through the dimly lit space, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of high-end cologne mingling with the tang of alcohol. Seven moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who belonged. Like the others, he also wore a mask; it was a striking horse's visage. The mask was in the shape of a stallion, symbolic as much as it was artistic. The eyes of the mask were large and expressive, revealing Seven's sharp, calculating gaze behind them. The mane was suggested by fine, flowing lines etched into the rubber, adding a touch of wild elegance to his look.

As he mingled with party goers, he scanned the name-tags he passed along the way.

Jaxen felt like a puppeteer with his happy little marionettes dancing throughout Nox’s house. The place was a shithole, but then again, he’d stayed places much worse. Good thing the mask hid his smirk, because actually it wasn’t bad. He slithered between the asscheeks of people dancing in the close quarters and found himself face to face with a beauty in a round black mask. Another smile split his lips, but of course, all emotion was smothered by his mask. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and put a finger to his lips to signal a silencing shh. That same finger curled to beckon her closer.

Interestingly, Jaxen was wearing black driving gloves. His mask didn’t even have a cutout for his lips; he was taking the anonymity thing very seriously. Which meant that any fun times would take place farther south of the face.

By the time he checked his shoulder, she was gone, and no amount of tippy toes spied her again. “Her loss,” he said to himself.

Shortly after, he found himself in the kitchen. There were straws a plenty for people to safely sip their drinks without revealing a well-turned chin. Speaking of, he dropped one into a vodka and lime, and joined a poker game in progress. He pulled out his dark wallet and showed his Black Chain buy-in; a substantial amount of illegally traded internet coin, Obscurium.

The availability of Obscurium was highly limited, controlled by elite hackers who mined it through complex cryptographic puzzles and illicit digital heists. The demand originated from those needing to remain anonymous and untraceable, including cybercriminals, activists, and dissidents. Obscurium was prized for its advanced anonymizing technology, a quantum encryption, ensuring transactions can never be traced. This feature boosted its value among users who prioritized privacy over everything else.

Obscurium accepted. Then, the cards were dealt.


((I didn’t describe the appearance of the other players in case someone wanted to join))

All of a sudden after showing Mara around the house sounds started coming from downstairs. And then the loud thumping music of a party commenced. Ashton crept quietly to the edge of the stair well and looked down, but he didn't see anything, being on the top floor meant they barely heard what was going on down on the second floor of the building. Though the music was loud enough to shake the ceiling everywhere. What the fuck?

The stairs were bared with a chain across the top step. Curiously placed like a 'Do Not Enter'. Ashton was curious as to what was going on and stepped over the chain and down the stairs to the third floor and he stopped and listened as he heard people moving about. He didn't like this. A party? Why would Nox throw a party when he just got out of the hospital. And he had kids living here now.

But then again, Nox did work in a near strip club and fought at the Almaz on the regular. Maybe this was part of that? Ashton sighed and made his way down the stairs to the living space and saw people in masks milling about the place, some still lingered on the stairs down and to the entrance area and he wondered what was going on. He didn't see Nox anywhere. Hell he didn't see anyone or anything he recognized as he stared into the living room trying to make sense of it all. And his gift would do little to anything here with the loud music.

A soft touch on his shoulder made Ashton move to the side and a creepy mask stared at him muttered a muffled, "Thanks." as he walked by. The crepy mask was replaced with a red one with a dark hood. He noticed the name tag but it was nothing but a series of numbers with one letter strung in the middle.

"You should go back upstairs. You don't want to be down here with this lot.

Ashton recognized the voice, but he didn't know him any more than he knew anyone else here. That was the voice on the other side of the phone when Nox burnt the house to the ground, he was here, in living flesh with a fucking mask on. Ashton nodded his response, he didn't want to yell, and Nox's hacker was already moving off into the crowd searching for something else.

Ashton didn't go upstairs but he did feel completely out of place without a mask.

Sage found Ashton down stairs and gave him some friendly advice. But he didn't think the man would take it. He didn't ask like he cared. He could take care of himself, he did lure Nox into a trap. Sage wasn't exactly sure why he was helping the family still. But that was Nox and totally not any of his concern. It did give him a few more interesting people to follow.

The music was loud as he stood over the poker table. It wasn't like being Phaser, The Wicked Truth was hardly known, so new to the game since losing his old identiy. But that hack was now in jail and he wasn't, so that made Sage all the happier. He felt bad that Grimm had taken his place -- but only a tiny amount. He had tried to use his name while he was sick to do shit more devious than Sage could have done. And he got caught -- too bad he had tarnished the good name of Phaser.

But Sage was happier now anyway, he had a boyfriend who was his boyfriend and not some girl he was playing at being a little more than friends. Though he did miss Sasha some days. But with Aiden he had no reason to regret his decisions.

Sage watched the cards and the currency that was in play. How many of these hackers counted cards? How many of them cheated through other means? How honest of a game was this really? Did it matter? Sage didn't play poker. Not because he did't know how, or because he sucked at it. In fact he was very good at it, but when he could calculate the odds of winning in a microsecond it took the fun out of playing and hoping. It didn't matter if he didn't pay full attention, he could run an algorithm that counted the cards, without actually paying attention. He'd written something like it once for a friend who went to Vegas. Wired the program up to pair of contact lenses. His friend won a butt load of money, but he got greedy and tried to use the same thing on the roulette table and got caught cheating. Dumbass.

But the amount of Obscurium in play was interesting. He had his own stash of it for obvious reasons. It was after all safer than any bank. And it was fun watching Jaxen playing cards. He almost had a mind to sit down and play himself.

Esper had no particular interest in technology, and never even saw the original invite, but she did enjoy dressing up. The strict anonymity lured only as a challenge for the most outlandish and elaborate of costumes; the kind of thing they usually reserved for the stage, or for themed festivals amidst the carnival. The hair spilled down her back was as dimensional as flames, bound in intricate knots and framing skin bleached as moonlight. Prosthetics made strange, vulpine elongations of her features and swept her ears into cruel points pierced with glinting metal, and her eyes seemed unnaturally large and shockingly colourless with contacts. Serrations edged her teeth into a predator's smile. Even her body had been altered, thin and sinewy, stomach concave and curved up to the cliff of her ribs. The drape of ethereal fabric only accentuated. She looked alien.

The party pulsed with the emotions of its inhabitants, and the music lulled all her senses into the charm of dance. It was a delicious high, and through it she only had eyes for Roza. Their bodies moved in a way that drew attention to them, utterly knowingly, but not one that included an invite for those spectators. Usually she used the Push to make sure others did not come too close, but here there was only room for intimacy with strangers.

Disruption jolted her when someone squeezed through. An elbow bounced off her shoulder as another dancer stumbled. The harmony went to shit. Reverie broken, Esper glanced away, not for who had bumped into her, but for who had created the wave of chaos in the first place. A Satan mask in a cheap suit, peering for a moment about like he’d lost someone, before slipping away. Her eyes narrowed.

She reached for Roza, fingers twined with the other girl’s, a communication without words as she extricated herself from the dancing throng. If Roza followed she did not let go on her path to the kitchen area. She found alcohol pointless, being as the nectar was all the sweeter filtered through those who’d already imbibed, but she took a glass anyway for the chill it left on her fingertips. A devious smile displayed the sharp edges of her teeth.

He was being dealt in a poker game amongst other masked players, and for a moment Esper contemplated the back of his latex head. No skin on show, not even his hands; an inconvenient shame, but not one that stopped her slipping her icy finger down his collar to tickle a touch at the back of his neck. It might have been flirtatious, except her finger was unpleasantly chill, and pushed in the smallest curl of fear.

“Quando il diavolo ti accarezza, vuole la tua anima*,” she said.

[[*When the devil caresses you, he wants your soul (Italian)

Also, for clarity, Esper's nametag is Narcissus, and Roza's is Camellia)]]