Roleplay

@hazelspikes

They were mafia, simple as that. It was organized crime, primarily practicing protection racketeering -- the use of violent intimidation to manipulate local economic activity. The big boss of the Grim gang was a terrifying woman by the name of Miss Locket, shrouded in secret and one of the biggest and baddest baddies of the city. Though very few knew what the mafia boss looked like, rumors swirled around that she was old, ugly, fat, and nothing more than a figurehead. Though...those rumors couldn't be farther from the truth.

Locket took a puff from her pipe and let the smoke escape from her nostrils, steeling herself for this disappointment. A man on the floor before her was begging for forgiveness, crying and sobbing something about losing a quick battle against their rival gang. She normally would have her lackeys deal with this sort of thing, far too busy figuring out their newest target, but when skirmishes having to deal with their rival gang, Locket was always the first to know.

"M-miss Locket, our men have been hit real bad! Theys all full of bullet holes and ruining our good name by spilling blood in the publics!" The man before her blubbered, wringing his hands together nervously. "Joey's bookstore's shot to hell, and with the police lookin in we're worried the kegs will be discovered, ya see..."

Locket took another drag and sighed, glancing away from the pathetic sight in front of her. "Then move the speak-easy to another location tonight. Take the men that weren't injured. We'll get revenge, don't you worry your pretty head. Do me a favor and don't **** up so bad next time." Done speaking, Locket stood from her seat and walked out of the room, patting the man's head as she left.

Ah, the men were like her children, the women like her sisters. Locket was fond of her crew and what they provided for the community. She wasn't fond of this new development with the other gang, though...perhaps a confrontation was needed? Mm, it was something that needed to be carefully planned, that was for sure. Heading outside, Locket paused at the entrance and looked back at their headquarters with a faint smile. It was huge, all tough-business-looking, somewhat respectable even with the big glass windows and pretty women at reception.

Just like their headquarters, their boss was good with putting on a disguise too. Locket looked to all the world like a mid-20s woman, bright red hair with gold undercolor cascading over her shoulders in bouncing locks, unblemished white skin, long lashes, bright red lipstick, tight black dress with gold accents and deadly-sharp heels giving the mafia boss more of a look of a pampered heiress to some big-shot company. But even this disguise was a coverup of her true self -- though no one was likely to believe she was truly a dragoness.

Having watched the downfall of her kind so long ago, Locket had played it safe by taking the guise of a human and slipping into society quietly. It infuriated her to know that such weak things like humans had brought the end of a proud species like the dragons -- that was why she was going to work her way to the top and then destroy everything in one clever swoop. Just thinking about it made the woman smile.

For all she knew, Locket was the last dragon in this region of the world, perhaps even the world. It was impossible to contact her kind these days, the way they were spread so thin and scared to hell. Locket paused in front of Joey's bookstore and pressed her hand to one of the broken windows. Being near immortal had it's perks -- she was going to outlive these fools, at least. Pretending to die every once in a while was surprisingly easy...all you had to do most times was set your house on fire and move on.

Ah, speaking of fire, Locket was itching to drop her guise and roll her hoard of gems and gold. But that would have to wait. One of her men approached her, tipping his hat in respect. She linked arms with him and entered the ruined bookstore to see what they could salvage.

(Hope this is okay! Don't worry at all about matching the length -- I just wanted to set the scene!)

@hazelspikes

Wait is it even Saturday for you there Japan time is weird okay I never know what time it is where

@HeadCrow

It's Sunday now. I'm on the response ASAP! Thanks for pinging me! :D

@HeadCrow

Across town, Miss Locket's competition was having a victory. The leader looked up from his sigil on the floor. One of his lieutenants came in unannounced, "We showed Locket's gang! Shot up their legitimate biznesses. Police are lookin' into it." The lieutenant was flushed from the fight, running on adrenaline. Otherwise he wouldn't be here in the first place. "Aren't ya proud, Boss? Went off without a hitch." The lieutenant blanched as the Boss put down his chalk.

"Fool. Think." Styx stood to his 6'6 height, stepping close into the man's space. "If the police found a shred of evidence against us, then they will come to us. Did I not say the nighttime would be the best plan to attack, not in the daylight like spineless worms?" Continuing to step until the man was pressed against the wall, Styx smiled. "Perhaps a new perspective will fix your eagerness." Extending a long, slender finger, Styx plucked an eye from the quivering man. While the man screamed and wailed, Styx licked the eyeball, depositing it into a jar on his desk. "Get that cleaned up," he said briskly, turning back to his work.

"Y-Yessir!" The man ran, no doubt to the infirmary. Pathetic. Styx didn't take his pawns deviating from his plans lightly unless it was an inspired move.

Styx stretched, poking the glass. "Humans get worse every year," he mused. His business was in an old hotel from the 1920s. Refurbished, only offering the best amenities, Styx's crew was involved with two different sides. One– weapons trade. The money from the weapons was laundered through the hotel. Significant judges and cops were paid off. The second was quieter. Styx was personally involved with most of the supernatural politics of the city. From the fae to the trolls under the bridges, Styx carved out places for each niche. He was also fascinated with human chaos magic as well. His crew just believed Styx, or Silas, as his disguise was called, was just an eccentric late 20-something man who was cold *** ******.

Actually, he was a dragon who blended in with humans long ago. It was rather easy. Technology wasn't a match for someone who had been around the block too many times. This was his hotel. Built it when he traveled from Spain to here in the early 20th century. It was amusing how many people looked past a man of vague Greek-Spanish decent. In all honesty, Styx didn't know how many dragons left. But he was solitary when his kind ruled. He had his associates and the occasional woman. What more did he need?

Finishing the ritual, Styx went into his private room. His hoard of silver, jewels, and skulls loomed over him. He itched to shed this disguise and relax. But he had fools to settle. Instead, he changed into the suit that made him look like an elegant gentleman, turned, and traveled to the bookstore. Perhaps this was a bold move. But he needed to see the damage for himself.

@hazelspikes

(Goodness when he poked out his eye I just went 'ewwwwww Dx' lol)

The damage of the bookstore was what Locket expected; windows shattered, bookshelves tipped over and burnt, bullet holes in the walls, and new blood stains on the once-pretty carpet. After speaking to their head of operations at the speak-easy, Locket helped with cleanup by picking through the books. Most all were burnt or shot though -- how many bullets had they used?! -- so the majority had to be tossed. Ugh, it would take forever for them all to be replaced.

This suddenly attack seemed so...unlike their rivals, and it was making Locket ponder their boss' say in the decision. Surely he wasn't losing power...no, it was more likely the ranks had become too big, too easy to rile up. If anything, a purge would happen soon. Grumbling as a Shakespeare play crumbled in her hands, Locket stood and carefully sauntered over to her man in charge. "Close down shop downstairs until we can get this mess fixed." She sighed, watching him flip sadly through a bullet-filled version of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. "You're fine, yeah?"
At this, the man finally glanced up. "Yes ma'am. Only wish I could have hurt 'em more."

Locket flipped back her hair as she left, noticing a rather tall man standing in front of the bookstore. Her accompanying gangster made a move to shoo the man away, but Locket stopped him with a single glance. She instead approached the man, staring into the broken bookstore with a careful poker face. "Something scary went down here, mister. Lots of people dead on the street...gangwars, I heard."

(I was like 'Styx? Why you do the...Fine?')

Credit was given when credit was due in Styx's life. His squad was ambitious and hotheaded, but they know how to make a mess. He'd injure each of the participants and reward them in the same breath. They would come to heel or their skulls would be in his hoard. Clearly, they enjoyed themselves. Rubbing his chin, Styx peered through the windowless frames. Tragic. How many books were lost.

Scribbling in his notebook a message for the troll under the bridge not too far from here, Styx was going to turn away when two people came from the mess. One was beneath him. Attempting to kick him out. Just for looking. Meant they had something worth knowing. Instead of feigning ignorance of English and retreating, Styx stayed.

"I heard," he murmured, lighting a cigarette. Puffed on it. "How many causalities? It's sad so many books getting in the carnage. Not just the owners." He tsked. "Nothing's' sacred anymore."

@hazelspikes

"Are you curious to know the causalities for the people or the books, huh?" Locket asked with a smirk. Her eyes skimmed over his tall frame, knowing immediately he was no hard-working man who was part of the system. Everything was carefully calculated with him; hair, suit, posture, the like. Though it was the same with her, Locket didn't think the man was mafia. Or if he was, he wasn't too high up. She glanced away, eyes back to the books.

"About 20 dead altogether. The books, though, hmm, there were a few too many Charles Dickens lost for my taste." Locket paused at this, not sure quite yet what to make of this man. She needed more information. "Do you know the reason for the fight? Though rival gangs are always fighting, normally their attacks are more...calculated. I heard this was rather one-sided."

@HeadCrow

"The books, of course. How much is taken out of stock? How many rare ones?" She appeared to be a bubblehead in a body meant to be taken as a professional. Styx didn't trust appearances. He was the concealed dragon, after all. Fantasy creatures stayed under the radar as much as possible.

"Dickens? Literacy weeps, students cheer." Stubbing the cigarette out, Styx pursed his lips. "It seems to be disorganized. Meant for a show of force. Could have done it more elegantly. Gangs are supposed to be like that, aren't they?" A mafia leader wouldn't discuss things in broad daylight. Couldn't be that dumb. "Speaking of gangs, we should get out from the crossfire." He tipped his hat, still a gentleman after all these years. "Will you join me for a drink?"

@hazelspikes

"The books?" Locket squinted at this mysterious man, baffled. Was that was the rival gang was after? The only books lost had been found later half-burnt or full of holes -- if the gang really had been after their expensive books, well they had missed their mark. Though Locket didn't know if she had the heart to tell this man just that, seeing as she could have missed that detail in her simple search. Though the offer of a drink certainly threw Locket for a loop.

She glanced back at her escort, not sure what to do. Worse case scenario she could drop her guise and eat him....she had, in fact, had to do that a few times in the past. Well, Locket was never one to refuse a chance to drink. Her hoard back home was full of empty bottles in a rainbow of colors. "I think that would be grand. This scene is so very depressing."

@HeadCrow

The rival gang did have some unusual rare books. But Styx was only after one– a grimoire from the 19th century. All the other books could be replaced. Styx did not feel guilty for all the books laying like downed birds.

Offering a drink was a gentleman way of doing business. He wouldn't drop his guise unless he needed to silence her. Live prey was much better than already dead. Nothing made him more satisfied than the fear on a person's face as the man violently shed his glamour, revealing his scaled self.

But that wasn't on the menu today. She wasn't on the menu. "Swell. I know a place a short walk away." Styx started to walk, looking for all the world like a businessman with a swagger. Or a gangster from the 1930s if he wasn't careful.