10-22-2018, 12:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-22-2018, 05:49 PM by Jaxen Marveet.)
Continued from Cabaret & Candy
The directions to Jaxen’s building led the driver from the midtown cabaret theater all the way to Moscow City, the so-named business district that in and of itself operated like a miniature city within a city. Where the area around the Kremlin was steeped in history and antiquity, Moscow City was the mecca of modern civilization. Massive buildings, many world-record-holders for their size and luxury, towered glittering above Moscow River, the massive water that curled its way around the district. High-rises that belied the mind twisted and turned, art-pieces in and of themselves. The one that Jaxen called home was lost in the middle somewhere. A different sort of cat prowled these city streets. For Jaxen, the height was attractive; cats did like to claim to the highest peaks, after all. A building that sold-out in 6-hours after the design debuted was also attractive. He enjoyed his perks.
Jaxen owned a two-level chunk of the high-rise. The door itself recognized him as he approached, and the hefty security system was lifted momentarily. Of course, it made note of all his guests as well, signaled the building staff to prepare delicacies or any other manner of morsel Jaxen might order on a whim. Having enough historical instances of similar gatherings in its system, it already prompted him what he wanted. Liquor, of course, was aplenty within the apartment. Fresh food and catering, on the other hand, would arrive shortly. Perhaps also swimwear and offerings of other laundry services were on standby. One of the balconies, like the others of the building, was a cantilevered pool suspended over the edge of the building-face. It glowed an eerie blue through the windows beyond when they entered. The walls of the apartment rippled and shone like they were living entities suspecting his whim and catering to the atmosphere he was probably most likely to anticipate. In this case, it was one of intimacy, mystery and fun.
“Make yourselves at home,” he announced just before departing to change his own clothes. Maybe it was the quip about the pants, but the attire was suddenly wrong for the occasion.
The apartment was arranged such that the foyer and first level entertaining space greeted them. The style and decorations were sleek and modern, except for a display case housed a number of odd-antiques, many from India, but other cultures could be discerned among the pieces. A kitchen was nearby that appeared to be carved from a single, seamless unit. Smart technology was everywhere. No oven or refrigerator was apparent.
When he returned, he wore a black shirt with a crystal-adorned, horned-skull on the front. Electric blue pants that seemed to flicker along the seams like the points of fiberoptics glowed faintly. His hair was freshly coiffed sinister as the grin on his lips.
It was then that he scanned the members of the party, and what he found was indeed, too many members. A frown creased his forehead. “I’m breaking up the sausage fest, boys. No offense, but we have a severe shortage of girls,” he winked as he plopped into his favorite chair, legs crossed.
Oddly, it wasn’t Aiden that he was watching. It was Sage.
The guy’s head must literally be on fire right then. An addict dropped square into a heroin house and told not to touch the needles. He had a message for "Wicked Truth", but he would wait for Aiden to request the powder-room before sharing it with the hacker.
The directions to Jaxen’s building led the driver from the midtown cabaret theater all the way to Moscow City, the so-named business district that in and of itself operated like a miniature city within a city. Where the area around the Kremlin was steeped in history and antiquity, Moscow City was the mecca of modern civilization. Massive buildings, many world-record-holders for their size and luxury, towered glittering above Moscow River, the massive water that curled its way around the district. High-rises that belied the mind twisted and turned, art-pieces in and of themselves. The one that Jaxen called home was lost in the middle somewhere. A different sort of cat prowled these city streets. For Jaxen, the height was attractive; cats did like to claim to the highest peaks, after all. A building that sold-out in 6-hours after the design debuted was also attractive. He enjoyed his perks.
Jaxen owned a two-level chunk of the high-rise. The door itself recognized him as he approached, and the hefty security system was lifted momentarily. Of course, it made note of all his guests as well, signaled the building staff to prepare delicacies or any other manner of morsel Jaxen might order on a whim. Having enough historical instances of similar gatherings in its system, it already prompted him what he wanted. Liquor, of course, was aplenty within the apartment. Fresh food and catering, on the other hand, would arrive shortly. Perhaps also swimwear and offerings of other laundry services were on standby. One of the balconies, like the others of the building, was a cantilevered pool suspended over the edge of the building-face. It glowed an eerie blue through the windows beyond when they entered. The walls of the apartment rippled and shone like they were living entities suspecting his whim and catering to the atmosphere he was probably most likely to anticipate. In this case, it was one of intimacy, mystery and fun.
“Make yourselves at home,” he announced just before departing to change his own clothes. Maybe it was the quip about the pants, but the attire was suddenly wrong for the occasion.
The apartment was arranged such that the foyer and first level entertaining space greeted them. The style and decorations were sleek and modern, except for a display case housed a number of odd-antiques, many from India, but other cultures could be discerned among the pieces. A kitchen was nearby that appeared to be carved from a single, seamless unit. Smart technology was everywhere. No oven or refrigerator was apparent.
When he returned, he wore a black shirt with a crystal-adorned, horned-skull on the front. Electric blue pants that seemed to flicker along the seams like the points of fiberoptics glowed faintly. His hair was freshly coiffed sinister as the grin on his lips.
It was then that he scanned the members of the party, and what he found was indeed, too many members. A frown creased his forehead. “I’m breaking up the sausage fest, boys. No offense, but we have a severe shortage of girls,” he winked as he plopped into his favorite chair, legs crossed.
Oddly, it wasn’t Aiden that he was watching. It was Sage.
The guy’s head must literally be on fire right then. An addict dropped square into a heroin house and told not to touch the needles. He had a message for "Wicked Truth", but he would wait for Aiden to request the powder-room before sharing it with the hacker.