01-13-2025, 07:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-13-2025, 07:51 PM by Jaxen Marveet.)
The Hook led him to a wickedly suspicious drain system that connected to a hidden world he had never imagined. Only steps inside and the air was thick with dampness, each breath corrupted by the metallic scent of decay that made his nose wrinkle in disgust. Flickering lights cast erratic shadows, revealing glimpses of makeshift shelters and the wary eyes of those who called this subterranean labyrinth home.
When the rare, fleeting thought crossed his mind, he had always assumed that Moscow's wealth had eradicated homelessness, but the resourcefulness displayed here told a different story. The city's forgotten souls had carved out an existence beneath the opulence, creating a society that thrived on next to nothing.
The Hook's mechanical arm whirred softly, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked in this forsaken place. Jaxen's senses were on high alert, and he questioned why he would spend an otherwise lovely night in the muck until a persistent pressure at the back of his mind urged him forward. He sighed in compliance.
After what felt like hours navigating the maze, they arrived at a chamber bathed in a sickly green glow. The space was a chaotic blend of dystopian decay and technological ingenuity. Ancient computer monitors flickered alongside vintage radio equipment, their screens displaying streams of indecipherable code. Cables snaked across the floor like digital serpents, and the air hummed with the low buzz of machinery. The heat from these machines mixed with the humidity, creating a sort of smog that almost choked the lungs to drink it in. Combined with the smell, Jaxen wanted to hurl.
In the center of the room stood a man, his back hunched over a cluttered workbench. He was older, perhaps in his late sixties, with a shock of uncut white hair that framed a face etched with the lines of a life lived in shadows. His piercing blue eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing as he swiveled on an old chair to face them.
"Voxel," The Hook's voice cut through the ambient noise, "meet the Auctioneer."
The Auctioneer's gaze locked onto Jaxen, assessing, measuring. "I know you,” he said, his voice hoarse from decades of poor air and cigarettes.
Jaxen crossed his arms and inclined his head, maintaining a facade of calm. "And you are?"
A faint smile tugged at the Auctioneer's lips. "Names are inconsequential here. What matters is the business at hand. You're seeking Bode."
"I am," Jaxen confirmed. "I want the Key she's auctioning."
The Auctioneer's expression darkened, shadows playing across his features. "The M'Antinomian have been... disruptive. They've shut down the auction site permanently. My reputation and profits have suffered as a result."
Jaxen raised an eyebrow. "Isn't client confidentiality paramount in your line of work?"
"It is," the Auctioneer replied, his gaze hardening. "But when my operations are compromised and my livelihood on the line, exceptions can be made. I'll tell you how to find Bode, but in return, you will eliminate the M'Antinomian. Fail, and I'll ensure the world knows who Voxel truly is." The long-winded answer caught in his lungs, and he began to cough.
Jaxen's lip curled when he witnessed the Auctioneer spit out whatever lodged in his throat, and tried to distract himself weighing his options, but the pressure in the back of his head nudging him toward acceptance. Finally, he nodded. "Agreed."
The Auctioneer's smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Very well. Bode can be found at Kallisti House of Burlesque. Be cautious; she is not one to be underestimated."
With the deal struck, Jaxen turned to leave, The Hook falling into step beside him. As they retraced their path through the underground maze, Jaxen couldn't shake a nervous feeling creeping up his spine.
[[Bode's reveal moded with permission]]
When the rare, fleeting thought crossed his mind, he had always assumed that Moscow's wealth had eradicated homelessness, but the resourcefulness displayed here told a different story. The city's forgotten souls had carved out an existence beneath the opulence, creating a society that thrived on next to nothing.
The Hook's mechanical arm whirred softly, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked in this forsaken place. Jaxen's senses were on high alert, and he questioned why he would spend an otherwise lovely night in the muck until a persistent pressure at the back of his mind urged him forward. He sighed in compliance.
After what felt like hours navigating the maze, they arrived at a chamber bathed in a sickly green glow. The space was a chaotic blend of dystopian decay and technological ingenuity. Ancient computer monitors flickered alongside vintage radio equipment, their screens displaying streams of indecipherable code. Cables snaked across the floor like digital serpents, and the air hummed with the low buzz of machinery. The heat from these machines mixed with the humidity, creating a sort of smog that almost choked the lungs to drink it in. Combined with the smell, Jaxen wanted to hurl.
In the center of the room stood a man, his back hunched over a cluttered workbench. He was older, perhaps in his late sixties, with a shock of uncut white hair that framed a face etched with the lines of a life lived in shadows. His piercing blue eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing as he swiveled on an old chair to face them.
"Voxel," The Hook's voice cut through the ambient noise, "meet the Auctioneer."
The Auctioneer's gaze locked onto Jaxen, assessing, measuring. "I know you,” he said, his voice hoarse from decades of poor air and cigarettes.
Jaxen crossed his arms and inclined his head, maintaining a facade of calm. "And you are?"
A faint smile tugged at the Auctioneer's lips. "Names are inconsequential here. What matters is the business at hand. You're seeking Bode."
"I am," Jaxen confirmed. "I want the Key she's auctioning."
The Auctioneer's expression darkened, shadows playing across his features. "The M'Antinomian have been... disruptive. They've shut down the auction site permanently. My reputation and profits have suffered as a result."
Jaxen raised an eyebrow. "Isn't client confidentiality paramount in your line of work?"
"It is," the Auctioneer replied, his gaze hardening. "But when my operations are compromised and my livelihood on the line, exceptions can be made. I'll tell you how to find Bode, but in return, you will eliminate the M'Antinomian. Fail, and I'll ensure the world knows who Voxel truly is." The long-winded answer caught in his lungs, and he began to cough.
Jaxen's lip curled when he witnessed the Auctioneer spit out whatever lodged in his throat, and tried to distract himself weighing his options, but the pressure in the back of his head nudging him toward acceptance. Finally, he nodded. "Agreed."
The Auctioneer's smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Very well. Bode can be found at Kallisti House of Burlesque. Be cautious; she is not one to be underestimated."
With the deal struck, Jaxen turned to leave, The Hook falling into step beside him. As they retraced their path through the underground maze, Jaxen couldn't shake a nervous feeling creeping up his spine.
[[Bode's reveal moded with permission]]