open: boogie nights

[horrifictie]

Who ⬤ Harry and the unfortunate people he crosses paths with
What ⬤ Substories and Begging
When ⬤ Mainly the first week of arrival
Where ⬤ Around town
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drug use


I. Money, please! (night after the partying)

[ Harry is in a bind, one which he only thinks is fifty percent his fault. When you break down the math that percentage makes a lot of sense! He had a fifty percent chance of doubling his money, and a fifty percent chance of losing almost all of it. He just fell on the wrong side of fifty because the fates are cruel. The more logical part of his headspace urged him to not gamble it all, but they couldn't stop him from gambling period. History repeats and he's in the same predicament as when he woke up to reality for the first time a week or so ago.

Luckily, he has a time-tested approach to getting more cash. One he readily employs as he looks out for people who look like they at least have some spare change and asks: ]

Hey, you look well to do. I'm a little down on my luck at the moment - can I have some money?

[ Who wouldn't say yes to a 40-something man with *incredible* handlebar facial hair who looks like he's coming down from a day long hangover? Please say yes. ]

Substory: High Definition

[ The rabbit's drugs are surprisingly potent considering his tolerance. The first time he took it he rationalized it as doing it for the advancement of scientific research. The surface level truth was he wanted a hit after being sober for almost a couple weeks. His body still aches from the gunshot to his hip, but that pain is flattened by the first time he takes the drug. When he reports his survey and asks if he could get more, the rabbit tells him all he has to do is report his experiences again.

The next drug he takes turns the whole world black and white, no different than the grainy film reels he (apparently) loves to watch. A voice in his head tells him of the low-budget adaptations of Dick Mullen novels looking just like this, steeped in a gritty *noir* aura that is irresistible to anyone with a passion for genre fiction. It seems only fitting then that he should play up the part. Digging around in the trash nets him a musty old brown overcoat (with a few faded stains on it that he doesn't notice) and his meager cash is enough to buy a cheap novelty detective's fedora to sit on his head.

With that he takes to the streets, notepad and pen in hand, approaching people with a simple "Evening. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?"

The yokai he asks twists her head to a 180 degree to meet him, back still turned, and barks a laugh in his face before continuing on her way. Harry shrugs, knowing this is part of the process, then looks to his next target -- you. ] Hello. I need to ask you some questions, if you have a few minutes to spare?

Substory: Sweet Jacket

[ Now this man's jacket is not *nearly* as sweet as Harry's FUCK THE WORLD leather jacket (which, sadly, did not make the trip to Hell with him) but he can respect a man's right to his fashion choices. As such, he volunteers to chaperone the man across the bridge as a bodyguard. They don't make it more than half-way before three men rush up to them and threaten to kick Mr. Cool Jacket's ass. No way to get past them either. Luckily, Harry has a plan guaranteed to work: ]

Look, over there!

[ Apologies to the poor soul he is pointing at - if you stop he's about to say something *very hurtful* about your fashion choices as a diversion. It's enough for the three men to look with him, even if they have no idea what the big deal is. ]

[ ooc: if you want a special prompt or to plan anything out, feel free to PM me. would especially be interested in an atrocious karaoke thread with one or two people who want to party. ]

Comments

substory: doms wanted (for kim)

[horrifictie]

[ Being separated by faction from his partner is a crime - no even worse, a *war crime*, that's how bad it is! However, not even Hell can keep two best friends apart.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Your half-brother, yes. Your friend? Still up for debate.
RHETORIC - Yeah, don't do anything to blow it. He doesn't have to tolerate your insanity in Hell.

(Thanks guys, I can always count on you.)

In any case, there's a situation developing that he needs backup on. Luckily he knows this is something the 41-57 duo can get to the bottom of together. He figures out how to get a hold of Kim on this fragile brick they call a smartphone (his screen is already half-cracked, so frankly there is nothing *smart* about it) and asks if they can meet up in Tamamo Clan territory. Someone needs urgent help!

(He then goes on to clarify that the urgent help isn't really urgent at all, but this person does need help. Please, Kim, it's very important.)

So he waits against the wall near a seedy nightclub, the sign above reading 'LOVE DELUXE', with a woman next to him in a dressy coat looking on nervously. Harry shoots her a smile and lets her know she'll get the help she needs once his partner arrives. ]

[aceslow]

[ During Kim's first week here, he's made a list of priorities. It goes as follows: learn as much about this situation as he can, learn as much about this city as he can, attempt to make connections with locals, procure necessities (toiletries, changes of clothing, a first-aid kit, handkerchiefs, an additional pair of glasses in case someone tries to punch him in the face again), and to generally get his bearings.

Trust Harry to forgo all of that in favour of continuing precisely what he was doing all over Martinaise. He had been, for all intents and purposes, reborn last week. What's this but another rebirth, and with it, another chance to interrogate civilians about their problems? But the last time Harry decided that someone needed help out of the blue, her husband showed up dead, so Kim reluctantly heads into the Tamamo District, only to see... ]

Oh, no.

[ Kim's sigh is quiet but meaningful. He looks for a moment as though he's seriously considering turning around without finding out more about what this is about. He knows all about Harry's history with women, which is to say, he knows about his history with women over the past couple of weeks. It's not ideal. ]

Detective. [ He looks over at the woman, wondering if he should be giving her an apologetic look or not. He settles on a professional nod. ] Ma'am. What seems to be the problem here?

[horrifictie]

Hey Kim!

[ Harry pipes up cheerfully, bouncing off the wall and situating himself beside his partner.

AYAKO - In front of them both is a young woman with a short bob that evenly stops at her earlobes, looking at them with a nervously polite smile. Her dress coat is a plain beige color, her hands tucked into the pockets, but the most striking aspect of her appearance are the black stiletto boots laced up to her knees.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Looking at them stirs your heart to pump faster.
VOLITION - Please control yourself in front of the lieutenant. ]

This is Ayako. I ran into her on the street and she needs help with... well, you could explain it to him.

[ AYAKO - She nods, getting off the wall so she can stand in front of them. "H- Hello, I'm Ayako. Or, well, that's my stage name. I'm a new hire at the Love Deluxe, a private club for clients who want to indulge in... darker temptations."

DRAMA - Though her words are frank, the timidness of her voice betrays her lacking experience in putting on a proper performance.
COMPOSURE - It doesn't help that she looks visibly uncomfortable, posture slacking, trouble standing in the boots she's wearing.

AYAKO - The woman clears her voice, then goes on. "Specifically, I was hired as a dominatrix. I've done host work before at a cabaret club, but Love Deluxe was looking for new hires and they pay a lot more. But... it's not as easy as I thought it was. Clients can be really demanding of what they want. They've told me I'm too passive and don't know how to assert myself. I guess I'm just not very good at being mean."

EMPATHY - She's looking at you and the lieutenant with a quiet plea in her eyes to match her voice.

AYAKO - Her voices hitches up with a breath. "Your friend told me you would be the perfect person to teach me to be more assertive! He said you have a lot of authority and can coach me in my technique. Please, will you help me? I want to show the club that I'm cut out for being a real dominatrix." ]

Of course we will. Right, Kim?

sweet jacket

[metafictions]

[To be honest, Kamui's not here to help the man out: he really is just an innocent bystander making his way over the bridge like any other good citizen of hell. (But the jacket is very cool, now that he's getting a better look at it.) And now... he's got a finger in his face?]

Yes?

[He blinks, expression blank, his gaze traveling from Cool Jacket Guy to the three men to Harry himself. He looks familiar, but not very. Perhaps he's Shuten, as well, but for now--]

Can I help you?

[Please, he just wanted to get some lunch.]

[horrifictie]

[ COMPOSURE - His clothes are inoffensive and wildly ordinary. Not really a great target.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - You just need to *sell* it as distasteful to the eyes. ]

Look at *that* guy's jacket. That faux-fur lining bushing up around the hood, walking around like he *murdered an animal*. [ He raises his voice, booming loud: ] What kind of message are you trying to send?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

[ The three men continue to look at him, but their scowls have weakened to confused glares. Other people on the bridge stop to stare at the commotion too. ]

[metafictions]

I'm.

[Wait. Is this a bit? Oh god, he's not good at bits. There's a beat of silence that's slightly too awkwardly long-- a skull rolling by on the ground even mutters to itself that it's literally just a green jacket, man,-- before Kamui can come up with a clever enough retort.]

I'm very sorry. I shouldn't have left the house with such an... offensive jacket. I could remove it, and-- [his eyes flicker to the other man, who gives him a desperate, meaningful look] --have this gentleman discard it.

On the other side of the bridge.

[Nailed it.]

high def

[everblooms]

[ The young woman he approaches is thin like the branches of a willow tree. One of her wiry arms is slipped through the loop of an old wicker basket, stuffed with labeled bottles. She's caught off-guard, intercepted on her way into an alley. She already knows this part of the city as well the backs of her hands. ]

Me? [ She looks around and spots no one else. Surely, he means her, but she can't imagine he has actual business with her. Aerith's slipped through the cracks for all her life. This man, larger than her, wearing discarded coat that reeks of week old garbage and vintage cap, strikes her not as the Turks do, but something else entirely. They should have nothing in common, but somehow...

Fist to her chest, she nods once, but concern is etched into her expression. Something's off. She's not sure just what, yet. She decides that, just in case, she needs to indulge and sniff it out. ]

A long way from the Department of Enma, aren't you? So? What's on your mind? [ ... ] Detec...tive? [ Did she get that right? ]

[horrifictie]

[ DRAMA - Yes, good, she understands! Play it up, sire.
LOGIC - Does she? ]

Yes, I *am* a detective, but not with the Department of Enma. [ He offers her a smile, hoping to put her at ease. ] I need your opinion on this city. Bright lights, broken dreams, a den of sin in the underbelly of Hell. And I'm here to detect it.

I can do so only with the help of citizens like yourself. [ He clicks the pen bottom, unsheathing the tip. Mightier than the sword indeed. ] First, can I have your name?

[everblooms]

[ Not with the Department of Enma? She raises a thin brow, smiling in a tight, controlled sort of way. He's either a terrible actor, or something is wrong, here.

Okay, sure. She'll play a part. ]

Aerith. [ Turning to face him fully, her attention is completely on this walking mystery. She spells it out, letter by letter to make sure he gets it right, and leans forward to see if the pen even has some ink in it. ]

If you aren't with the Department of Enma, then who are you with? That's where the law is decided, right? I guess it doesn't matter much, buuuuut, you might want to keep it hush-hush. You know? Word on the street is... they don't like competition!

1.

[breweries]

[ despite starting from scratch with meager money to his name for the time being, shylock still has that refined air around him whenever he goes out in public. the stench of nobility can't be hidden no matter the clothes he wears, or something like that.

and he can't quite forget the man he met at hell!customs, though harry looks like he's looking even worse for wear than usual. can't imagine why. ]

Rather bold of you to ask for money right off the bat. Not even a nice "hello"?

[ he'll smile for the guy instead. whether he'll actually cough up the cash right there is up in the air, though. ]

[horrifictie]

[ VOLITION - Unfortunately, you do in fact remember the man who saw you shove a ticket down your pants. ]

Oh, hey! I remember you. Hello! [ He smiles, sheepishly brushing his fingers against his neck. An awkward laugh follows. ] Well I'm not in great shape. I got robbed you see.

[ RHETORIC - You know what? Sure. In a sense, gambling is a money racket designed to steal your cash with the promise of untold riches.
LOGIC - Yeah, feel free to tell yourself that. ]

sweet jacket;

[pathofsacrifice]

[ Artemy came upon hearing the distress of the hashihime. For whatever reason, a jacketed man had earned their ire and he intended to end things peacefully. He may not yet know much of youkai and their dealings, but since things had already turned violent; he feared that it would not be long until real blood was shed.

He is aware of how he looks -- and believes his look may be enough to scare someone from crossing a bridge. Yes, he may have gotten a little confused by the instructions given to him, but his heart is in the right place.

So, when he arrives, he notes that the man is already being besieged by four men. They did not even wait for me to solve the issue.

But he pauses as he is suddenly pointed at by one of the group.

It's certainly something that his immediate reaction isn't fear, but a quiet resignation. He lets out a long sigh before squaring up; he straightens his posture to his full height even though he knows it won't do anything. It may at least lower their moral enough that the beating he's about to get won't last too long. ]

Well... what's going on here?

[ At least, he can sound tough. ]

Four on one. Has this man truly done such a disservice to you all?

[horrifictie]

[ PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - He postures himself with resolve, prepared for violence as an *inevitability* of the situation.
DRAMA - He thinks you're part of the gang against your new well-dressed friend. Correct him. ]

He has done no disservice at all! [ He clasps his hand over the shoulder of the man in the sweet jacket. Said man cringes a little, his face expressing "this was a mistake." ] Here we are, two men who have committed no crimes against fashion, accosted with the threat of violence by these three men. Shame on them!

[ One of the men shrugs, exasperated at the dramatics. "Look, it's nothing personal. We're on official business. You two leave - we only want the asshole in the jacket." ]

And let you beat up a man because he dares to wear what he wants? No way. [ He looks back to the postured man, sensing fight in him. ] Help me out here. Hurting a man over what he wears is unreasonable, right?

high definition

[laughitoff]

[Wei Wuxian's experienced with street merchants, but not necessarily street questionnaires done in detective cosplay. and hey, it seems like a lot of what living in this city and its factions boils down to is helping other people out. so why not stop and answer?]

I've got a few minutes. Maybe more, if the questions are interesting.

[he's notably thin and ill-looking, much more than his icons indicate, and he smells like he just spent some time at one of the local watering holes. but his eyes are sharp and sober; not drugged himself, at least for now.]

[horrifictie]

[ RHETORIC - Oh, the questions *will* be interesting. I promise you this. ]

Thank you, good sir. I won't waste your precious time. Let's start with your name.

high def

[peacewithouttyranny]

[The next person he approaches might just be a more peculiar sight than whatever the residents of hell already offered- A 10 foot tall mechanical being. Soundwave is not doing anything in particular of note, just leaning his back against a wall with his arms crossed, people watching before a human unexpectedly approaches him.

Tilting his head down, optics behind the glowing red visor looks up and down the human ragged appearance. Though the 'blank' faceplate doesn't betray what expressions he may have... But sure, he has a couple of minutes to spare.]

What do you wish to ask?

[horrifictie]

[ INLAND EMPIRE - Hell truly has all types. Turns out, machines really do have souls!
LOGIC - It's definitely *not* a machine in the traditional sense. Don't call it that.
VOLITION - And stop staring like your face is about to fall off. Ask your question. ]

Khm. [ He gives a quick clearing of his throat, letting his awe pass, and then tips his hat. ] Good day. Can I first start off getting your name?

jacket

[architexture]

[For once since arriving to this town, Andrey is just minding his own business and not trying to get into street fights. He has a cheap beer, he has a bridge to loiter on and gently muse about (weird architect relaxation technique no. 45), he already got in a fight today — he's just hanging out here, and suddenly there are several guys staring at him while one of them shouts.

Hah... what... why. He picks himself up from where he's been slouched on his elbows, looking at the water, and if he automatically shifts his grip on the beer like he might smash the bottle and start swinging in a second, that is only habit. He has yet to swing. Hello??]

Gawking at me, again? [He does not wear a shirt and he does wear a terrible jacket with straps to nowhere and a very bad cut, so. You know, this is a fair hit he's about to take.] What for?

[horrifictie]

[ HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Keep your eye on that bottle. He's not afraid to use it for more than a quick swig. ]

What for? [ He repeats with disgust, then looks to the men that block the way. ] You keep harassing this innocent man who wears his sweet jacket with pride and love, but have no problem with a man wearing a coat like *that*?!

[ A scoff comes from one of the men. "What about it?" ]

Look at all those straps! It looks like a straight jacket unfitted to contain his muscular body. Even looking at it makes me want to go to the asylum and get instituted myself!

[ "...It *is* pretty stupid looking, but we don't care about that. This isn't about fashion crimes." ]

Like hell it isn't! If my new friend is a delinquent at best, then that guy is a menace to society in that coat!

Sweet jacket

[nevercaught]

[Given that Jarlaxle's current look can only be described as 'brightly colored leather daddy,' it's clear that Harry has unintentionally chosen a fine target for his next strategy.

(Jarlaxle, meanwhile, has been in conversation with the hashihime about the man who has offended them so and has almost certainly by now made assurances of help to them.)]

[horrifictie]

[ The men turn to look at Jarlaxle, then look back to Harry. "What about them?" ]

Men, are you really going to bring undue harm to my friend in his *sweet jacket* and not consider the far worse crime being committed on this bridge? [ He waves his hand at Jarlaxle, grimacing. ] This eyesore in the leather is going to disrupt society as we know it! Think of the *children*.

[ The men are unfazed and unimpressed. One of them cocks their head. "The children?" ]

The children! They will see him and think: this is going to awaken something inside me. [ A beat, then- ] Not that this is a bad thing, of course, I'm actually very open-minded, but the children! And their mothers! Think of the children's *mothers*.

Everyone loves karaoke

[fuben]

( It's far, far more human interaction than Nanami has had in a long time, and the crowds are wearing on him. Not that one might be able to tell at first glance, not without a better understanding of or familiarity with him. (And certainly not through the sunglasses he still refuses to take off.) He's used to these kinds of functions: everyone plied with too much alcohol, crammed around tables with one or two too many seats, raucous, high-energy, and absolutely exhausting. He'd handled them as well as he could while they were the standard for office culture, but he certainly hadn't missed them after quitting. So it's a little ironic, and more than a little cruel, that he finds himself in this same position again. But then, it wouldn't rightly be Hell if he wasn't stuck reliving the worst parts of his life.

He's sipping only his second drink of the night, nestled discreetly in a corner of Konoha. Now that the formal introductions within Sutoku have ended, and the crowds are a mix of every faction, it's precisely the opportunity for respite he needs and he's happy to take it. What he hadn't counted on was that everyone else has had a fair bit more to drink, and that, eventually, the ambient playlist would shift to something more user-curated, complete with the warbling attempts at vocalizing over the accompaniments.

Audibly, unintentionally, Nanami groans aloud and closes his eyes. The rest of his drink is kicked back in one shot, and emptied glass left upside-down on the table. It's time to leave, and he plans to make the absolute quickest exit possible—especially because the scant other occupants at the table seem far more interested in the sign-up sheet than the door, particularly the man in the loud tie and trench coat, who seems to have made his way through conversation with everyone at the table so far save him. Even if the entire point of his lingering had been to make acquaintances across factions, Nanami does not care to be roped into this again. Not so soon.)

Pardon me.

( Said softly, maybe hardly heard above the relatively on-key rendition of "A Whole New World," as he edges his way past the man. )

[horrifictie]

[ INLAND EMPIRE - You are in your *element* in this small little karaoke bar. A happy crowd, grabbing alcohol and downing it like water from the fountain, singing along to all the hits. It's less a chorus of angels and more a gaggle of off-key drunk harmonizing, but is that not the essence of karaoke?
DRAMA - Karaoke is the *one* allowable time in civil society where you can belt your lungs out, crack your voice, and no one can say *shit* about it. It's performance art.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY - The pleasant buzz of merriment keeps you going even as your body is getting tired out. That, and the couple glasses of cheap wine you've downed. You've weaved through the crowd, sang a couple rounds, and will be up again soon.
REACTION SPEED - Not everyone is *feeling* it though. For instance, the man who just edged past you and heading for the door. ]

Hey! [ Harry turns his body and reaches for the man's shoulder, able to catch it in a loose clasp as he walks past. ] What's the rush? Party's not over yet.

money, please!

[harimaya]

(And the young man Harry stops is... Hizen who really doesn't look like much dressed in a plain red hoodie one size too big and a pair of faded, scuffed up black jeans. Around his neck is a bandage. Did he even bother to tie it up properly or did he just let the ends hang loose and tuck the into his clothes? Seriously, Harry, why did you stop him?

But he definitely has money. If Harry saw him at the Shuten welcome party and the club after, he could reasonably assume that Hizen also received his advanced payment.

Hizen stops. He looks at Harry, eyes tired and unimpressed,)

Hell no.

[horrifictie]

[ ESPIRT DE CORPS - There's a faint recollection that you can't put a finger to. A connection you haven't clearly put together yet.
HALF LIGHT - Who fucking *cares* about that! He's not going to give you any money!
SUGGESTION - Time to turn out the *secret weapon* -- groveling. ]

Oh, come on! Help a struggling man out? I'm really strapped. ...Please?