Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-5999656-20190205232429

"That's like, actually disgusting."

Alyxia stood a few feet in front of an array of glass cases, each containing different human organs in clear liquid. Directly in front of her, a slick, veiny heart bobbed in the whitish liquid, while a number of differently-colored eyeballs rested in a large jar right beside it, occasionally bumping against each other as they hovered in the solution. Behind the display cases were countless plastic red iceboxes, like those you would see for beer storage in a backyard party. Except, of course, that there wasn't any beer in the ice.

A burly man with hairy arms situated in the midst of the iceboxes scowled, having overheard her words, and crossed his arms.

"Listen, missy. If you're not here to buy, I'd suggest you move along," he growled menacingly. Alyxia met his eyes, cocking an eyebrow before she shrugged and turned away, nonchalant as you please.

"Right. Sorry."

Alyxia brushed the thoughts of organ trafficking out of her head, and quickly rejoined Sorrel a few paces back. At his querying expression, she shook her head.

"Find anything interesting yet?" she asked him.

"The jewelry sellers are almost done setting up," Sorrel said, pointing a thumb back at the stage behind him. "Think you might like it more than what they've got over there."

"Yeah? No shit," Alyxia said dryly. Despite her acerbic tone, however, she was glad to be away from the organ sellers. Just imagining where they had gotten their wares from gave her a bad turn.

Alyxia scanned the crowds over Sorrel's shoulder, vaguely noting the sheer variety of patrons clustered throughout the room. Rich and poor, young and old, human and Faunus. The underworld, at the very least, was undiscriminating. Her gaze caught on a single, white-haired man standing stock still as the rest of the people moved around him, and she froze as the memories of a single night, months ago, suddenly raced through her mind's eye.

''No way... it's him! That's him!''

It was unmistakable. The black-tipped, unkempt hair. The white accoutrements. If it had just been those things, Alyxia might have been able to dismiss it as a lookalike. But the patchwork tie was a dead giveaway as to his identity. There was only one man who dressed himself like that, and it was that very man who had smashed his way into the Syndicate office half a year ago with murder on his mind and a mechanical lizard and Glasgow-grinning madman in tow.

Decadere Diaboli was here. On that night, Alyxia had watched impassively in the back, mask over her face and blade in hand, as her CEO had talked the three intruders into an uneasy truce. That had been the last she'd seen of any of them, and though the CEO had assured the family that Diaboli would no longer be causing them trouble, Alyxia wasn't so sure.

Diaboli looked completely uninterested in what was going on around him, and as Alyxia watched, he set off again, vanishing into the crowd.

"Who was that?" Sorrel asked, following Alyxia's gaze.

"An old enemy," Alyxia replied. "Though I have half a mind to suspect he and Zanipher had a fling. Let's move on." Ignoring Sorrel's look of shock, Alyxia made her way towards the jewelry stage. One where, it seemed, a certain one-eyed heiress was starting to set up.

_________________________

Unbeknownst to the potential clients now spreading their way about the four rooms, a very different concealed crew was now carefully distributing themselves amidst the throngs. Their commissioner had estimated each man would be outnumbered 1 to 30, but as the undercover Mistral PD officers made their way around the port facility, they were starting to think the ratio was more like 1:60. Each one was carefully dressed to blend in with the rabble, and each had a portable hidden camera strapped to their front in as inconspicuous a place as possible. Nevertheless, it was nearly impossible to perfectly conceal the apprehension of being surrounded by one's enemies, and more than a few of them had already begun sweating underneath the layers of disguise. They were like an army of goldfish swimming in the open ocean, which was precisely why their orders were only to monitor, not to apprehend.

So far, so good. Now if only they could figure out who the bigshots were...