Flora

Fate, it seemed was not without a sense of cruelty.

Hope had achieved very little, for no sooner had she hoped he would not enter; did he enter. Her eyes went wide and she held her breath, quickly spinning around as to avoid being noticed. A vain effort to be sure, something about him was ominous. No doubt she had already been noticed. Her heart began to race as a silence fell over the store while the hooded man browsed the collection.

His path around the store took him right past her. A moment which stole the any remaining courage she may have had hidden in reserve. She began to shake as he casually strolled past her. The air was filled with a sinister feeling, one of death and sadism. Controlled chaos, or at least that was how it felt to Jo-Jo.

His very presence was beginning to make her sick. A malicious cold began to set over her, something terrible was about to happen. Once again her gift became a curse. The poor girl never asked for it, even though most would kill for it. It was unpredictable and difficult to control. More often than not, it led to trouble. Sometimes it was better not to know certain things.

Yet that did not stop her mind from doing the extraordinary things it loved to do. This time it decided it wanted to peer into the thoughts of the people in the room. Almost instantly, a rush of voices filled her mind. It was such a cacophony, she couldn't make out any words. Only a plethora of mumbled sounds and rapid synopsis firing from the minds of the shop keep and the other patron. Then, all at once, her mind was filled with countless screams of anguish and pain. They sang a song of horror and despair, their final moments twisted into a nightmarish wail.

It must've been the hooded man. What else could it have been. Jo-Jo gripped the sides of her head as though it were going to fall in half is she didn't. Indeed, that was what it felt like inside her head. Like a white hot blade was slowly forcing her head to split and separate down the middle.

As quickly as the feeling had come it was gone and the man seemed to be headed towards the exit. Her heart skipped a beat, would he really just leave? Would he? A tiny little flicker of hope raised in her chest as he was only a few steps away from the exit.

Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor............

Almost before she could process what was happening, the other man pulled out a gun and started shouting demands of money and whatever was worth anything. Threats flew from the young man's mouth, yet they rung hollow. It was clear he was terrified, but of what, Jo-Jo couldn't be sure.

Two shots and the cascading sound of shattering class filled the room causing Jo-Jo to scream momentarily and shut her eyes. When she opened them she saw the hooded man holding the other man by the face. The science alone behind the feat, which Jo-Jo knew quite well, was almost improbable. However, that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was happening and Jo-Jo understood one thing, the man's strength physically; was off the charts.

He had also closed the distance in the time it took her to practically blink. She then knew, there was no way to escape him should he come for her. Then he spoke.

His words were sharp, like a blade cutting through the air. His tone was poisonous, drenched in a superior delight. It was obvious, he enjoyed this. This was not the first time he had done this, nor would it be his last, She thought. She watched on in horror as he spoke to the man, most likely regretting every decision that had led him to this point.

Her eyes went wide the moment before the hooded man commenced with his grisly act. The sound was gut wrenching and the sight made her turn away quickly. She couldn't think, the man had literally splattered another man's head with his bare hands. Her whole body shook in fear as she slowly turned back around after she heard the soft 'thump'

Then she met them, his eyes. Those burning hellish eyes, piercing her soul, exposing her as the frail insect he saw her as. She couldn't look away from his eyes, like they were drawing her in to oblivion. A suffocating feeling crept over her as he neared, she took sharp, gasping breaths; her whole body visibly shaking. Her eyes, locked into his. Her eyes filled with pure, unrelenting terror.

It wasn't dying that bothered her. She had always known the fate of mortal creatures was to die. She also knew, however, there were things far, far worse than death. Things she knew a man like him was capable of.

She gulped and tried to take a step back before realizing she was already back against the wall of the shop. She let out a terrified squeal when her back bumped the wall. Tears began to fall from her eyes that still could not look away from his nightmare filled optics.

"P-Please....." She squeaked in barely a whisper. It was as loud as she could manage, his focus on her seemed to be stealing what little breath she could take. "I-I.......I-I........I-I-I-I"

How pathetic she must've seemed to him, like a pest or vermin waiting to be exterminated.

Vermilion hues, unwavering, remained fixated upon the awkward creature. Humanoid, in design at least, she still remained far from what he'd consider a typical, mundane, ponce. No, she seemed to come dressed up in all the bells and whistles the more eccentric, and strange, individuals of the cosmos would likely adore. Sickening. A sight he couldn't resist in biting back a vomitous grunt of disdain. What to do with her, indeed. The cosmos would surely swoon at the idea of smearing her from existence with naught but a simple swipe of his back hand.

"P-p-please. I...I...I..." He mumbled, and mockingly taunted in an utmost pathetic tone. Mimicry, though low-brow and bottom of the barrel tactics, always did offer him an occasional giddy chuckle. And chuckle he did as he casually drew two steps closer to the Anthromorph. The idle, mute, rustle of his tattered cloak could be heard as it skimmed the floor. He reached out with a gentle touch, unbefitting of his typical nature. His intentions initially masked, that idle forefinger sought to draw he chin upward so her eyes could meet his own; if only to further strike trepidation into her.

"It's not oft I witness vermin meander about on their twos. As much time as I've spent in this infested cesspool of egos, debauchery, and knee-jerk reactions; I can't say I've stumbled upon something as uniquely absurd as yourself." He explained, a vague silhouette lifting if only to show a shaded portion of his nigh-porcelain visage; markings appearing almost feral upon his cheekbones acting as natural born insignia's hinting to his lineage. Drawing away his forefinger from her chin with a fierce snap, a luminous glint surfaced from beneath one of his gaping sleeve openings. Bracers?

Nay. Bangles. A pair. Relics of a time long since lost, and yet holding a mighty gift. The Bangles of Divine Reach.

A lackadaisical, if not whimsical, gesture of his hand, and arm, acted as the medium in which to vault her entire being upward from the floor as if gravity no longer applied to her; physics rend asunder and at his very beck and call. As powerful as Kazura happened to be naturally, be it only logical that a man as devilish and malefic as he would seek out greater means and methods to capitalize on unrelenting might. These Bangles were only one relic, a set, out of many more at his disposal. His life goal had been to grow, and flourish, unto a point at which none could challenge him.

His back to her, he casually let his hand drift about in lazed circles in which her now seemingly weightless body would obey, spinning her about like a wound up ball on a string.

"I'm at a loss as to what I should do with you. I've brought so many lives to an end today that, dare I say, I'm almost stultified by the act now." He explained, whilst his free hand fell adrift from his body, forefinger and middle joined. A bright, glowing, orb of searing heat began to swelter to life before it cascaded into a brilliant beam that pierced the clerks counter, leaving a charred hole in its wake. Flames licked upward from the opposite side for a moment before the sudden aroma of burning, singed, flesh filled the air. The man from earlier who'd fainted.

Lies.

"Mm. Perhaps I'm not entirely dissuaded from snuffing out one or two more..." From beneath that pitched cowl, a heinous, nigh shark toothed grin, appeared. Turning his attention back upon her, those flame-licked jewels again fell upon her as could she witness that nefarious smile of his blossoming before her. "Still, I am torn. Properly domesticated, with all aspirations and life-goals smothered; the idea of freedom and normalcy choked out of you...You'd be an interesting specimen to drag around by collar and chain." He taunted and then paused. His countenance seemed to drain away into actual ponderance before what appeared to be a genuine smile graced his features. "Or you could draw a fetching price on any number of black markets. I'm sure the cosmos is full of disgusting, putrid, maggots who'd do any number of things to something as strange as you."

Truth be told, he knew such a demand likely existed. Still, be it safer to conceal his actual affiliation to a gargantuan multi-conglomerate corporation that spanned many solar systems, if not Galaxies. He as the acting CEO, even.

Still, he didn't feel he'd cut deep enough yet. Not at this point. Flicking out his fore and middle fingers yet again, he ignited them once more. This time, though, the visual appearance of the energy licking outward from his fingertips appeared sharper. Almost scalpel-like.

"I could also skin you alive and take that unique, eccentric, pelt of yours and hang it from one of my walls. T'would be a shame to know someone else had tarnished it. Not many can truly appreciate beauty in all things as I can." He mused aloud. Still, simply threatening her wouldn't destroy her completely. No. That came next. Those facing fatal adversity never truly succumbed to fear until they were given choice in the matter; limited choice, that is.

"I'll leave your fate up to you. It'll be real simple, actually. You see, you've now been explained three options. Three possibilities. And I'll assign each of those to..." He trailed off, pondering somewhat on it. "Variations of Chess, seeings as regardless of whichever option you pick, the outcome will still be quite dismal. Furthermore, I won't give you the luxury of knowing which option entails the outcome. You've Shogi, Xiangqi, and Shatar to choose from." He explained; the gleam in his eyes intensifying.

With a flick of his fingers once more, the energy like scalpel dissipated, leaving him free to use that hand for other purposes; such as adding to the gravitational dysphoria he'd subjected her to. With one hand rotating her in circles, the other proceeded to act as another means of rotation, flipping her body on yet another axis.

"Do be quick, though. I'm not sure how much time we have before authorities begin combing shops and such. And, I'm also a very impatient man. If I don't find plentiful amounts of amusement in this, I'd sooner snap your neck with a flick of my thumb than idle about in boredom."

A sinking feeling grew ever present in her stomach as he mocked her while he approached. It was the worst feeling she had ever experienced. It wasn't just terror, the word itself didn't even come close to the feeling that this man gave her. Her body felt like it was paralyzed, like all the strength from her limbs had been sapped away by the continuous shaking.

His touch made her inhale sharply and caused her entire body to tense up. Her chin, slowly being pushed upward to she could see him bearing down upon her. She felt so small, vulnerable and disgusting compared to his looming presence. This must have been what a mouse saw as the cat finally caught it. His figure, in her perception, was massive and made only more intimidating by the words that began to cut into her mind as he spoke.

Vermin, Uniquely Absurd. Her mind could only tell her that he looked down upon her and that there was absolutely no escape. Whatever his plan was, she would definitely receive. The shadows moved to reveal his face slightly. Her eyes, going wider still as she gazed upon him. The fact his visage was one of perfection, shook her to her very core.

She might have been able to accept a gruesome death at the hands of a hideous monster, something that had no choice but to be destructive. However, he was a being that knew what he was, he knew what he was capable of and he knew exactly what he was doing. That, was the scariest part of all.

In one moment she was lifted into the air. A terrified squeal emitted from Jo-Jo as her body began to tumble over and over. He could manipulate her body? No, just the space in which her body occupied, more precisely her body's own natural energy seemed to be working against her in this moment. At least, that was her theory. It could have been an interesting hypothesis, but she didn't think she would be testing the question in the foreseeable future.

The spinning began to throw off her equilibrium, making it harder and harder to think.

However, she was able to see the beam fired by him. A pinpoint shot, through the counter, hitting it's mark flawlessly. Everything about the man broke conventional physics and theory. Jo-Jo was smart enough to know that there were things in the universe that defied scientific thought but she also knew that there was something of a science behind his power too. His biology, his attire, his mentality. Understanding this............ only made things worse.

Just as the thought dawned on her that he was some kind of super-being, he spoke again. Cold, dagger-like words began stabbing themselves into her mind as she spun helplessly mid air. A pet? His words suggested domination and subjugation. A fate of forever being disgraced and trampled on, shown off like a prize if she was good or punished if she did not obey. "N-N-No.......P-Please!" was all she could muster to say while her body continued to obey his commands.

Then he spoke of the black market. A fate of being auctioned off and sold as property to someone who would more than likely abuse and destroy her. Her mind filled with images of terrible men with their hands all over her body, doing inexplicable things. It was a scarier thought than being a pet, even though there was a chance she would be sold as a pet on the market. A small chance, but a chance.

His third option was very much the worst of his ideas. She whimpered slightly as she saw the purple energy take it's new form. She knew it wasn't a bluff, he would probably not even break a sweat doing it. That's not how she wanted to be seen as she was dying. A stumbling, skeletal meat creature, that was desperately trying to hold it's insides in. The image alone made her wet herself. Given the fact she was still spinning as it happened only added to her humiliation.

Not shortly after her humiliating act, did he begin to spin her like a gyro. It was gut and mind wrenching, she almost couldn't comprehend what he was saying. But she understood him perfectly well, especially when he suddenly left her fate in her own hands. Assigning them to chess variations? The whole thought was cruel.

Jo-Jo was very intelligent, some would even say genius. Partly due to her psychic ability and partly due to her love of learning. However, at this moment, it was her worst enemy. If he assigned them to chess variants, did he assign the options to likeness of culture? If that was the case, she was sure Shatar would be the skinning option, given that Mongolians were particularly ruthless. If that was how he assigned them, she felt like it would have been easy.

But was that how he had done it?

How did he assign the options? The situation cause her heart and her mind to race. Thinking of every possible reasoning behind why he would assign which option to which choice. This was torment. She screamed as her mind tried to process tried to make sense of the reasoning. There was no way, she would have to guess. It was almost like he knew that this would torment her so much. Did he know? How could he know? Why was this happening? Which would she choose? Each of the options represented was a terrible fate for her. Why did she have to choose? Why couldn't he just kill her instead of subjecting her to this torment?

Her mind began to spiral into darkness as she spun. Her hyper calculating brain was turned on itself and provided a wondrous, and probably unexpected, for of torture. She screamed again before sobbing hysterically for a moment before letting out another scream as she tried to 'decode' the problem. "N-NO!!!!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!!!" She cried out again.

She would have to guess, there was no other option.

"SH-SH-SHOGI!!!!!! I CHOOSE SHOGI"

A sense of deliciousness overcame him. This very sight a delectable treat. Still, it could not sate his unquenchable thirst for such bottomless desires. He’d never tire of the this feeling; a feeling he’d been denied in days of yore as a young individual. Superiority. The peak and pinnacle of the pecking order. An almighty embodied. Psychologically speaking, many would find such perpetrated behavior to be pitiful, and pathetic. And yet, from behind the eyes of the one proceeding in such abhorrent, disgusting, practices...adrenaline; pure, unadulterated, bliss. Satisfaction at the loftiest of levels.

Upon the moment she wet herself, a shrill, maddening, cackle left his verbal orifice, quickly stifled and choked off and yet the damage had already been done. The vivid satisfaction he’d derived from such cruel, filthy, actions could be noted in full. In times such as these, his behavioral traits swiftly began declining in morality, elegance, and even reason. He seemed to regress into a savage animal, gaining joy from the misery of others at the cost of his intellectual methods. As if the mere acts witnessed drained him of any sentient, intelligent, thought; his being reduced to mere collective bliss and jubilance in the harm inflicted upon others.

A sick man, indeed. Nay. A monster.

His jubilance continued to flourish as he further witnessed her frantic attempts at deciphering how he’d assigned her options, grave options regardless of the one she’d choose.

The moment she’d submit to the plight at hand, crying out in terror, he believed victory at hand. And then, in a last ditch effort, she cried out Shogi. Baffled, initially, he relinquished control upon the space around her. Gravity would inevitably draw her earthbound, rendering her a helpless doll to be drawn to the floor into a hapless heap. All jubilance swiftly began to fade and his intellectual instincts began to clamber back to life inside his skull. Eyes flickered alight for but a brief moment as he scrutinized her.

‘How? Coincidence; it has to be. I assigned them by cultural basis.’ He mused in his head. And that had been truth. While common sense to himself, he could only assume it to be enigmatic to any other facing such a trying, vicious, plight; the idea of being able to sort and sift through information in such a state futile. And yet, she may have.

He continued to weigh options, also believing that Shogi, as a popular variant, could also simply have slipped due to the nature of coincidence. Still, the idea that she’d spared herself death, and being violated via the black-market, astounded him. He’d assigned them by cultural basis. Considering human pets, and the like, are odd, cultural, fancies of the Japanese, the choice of Shogi equated to being stuck with the slave/pet decision. Xiangqi, based of Chinese culture, saw with it the adaption of the black market, and sexual slave trade, aspect. Shatar, Mongolian in derivation, spoke for itself based upon its cultural backing.

In idle stance, Kazura couldn’t help but allow his hands to come together in muffled, light, applause. Impressive, if not based solely upon coincidence. Perhaps she had some use to her. Still, despite the abrupt turn of events and his astounded stance on what had come to pass, he’d not relent in the slightest.

“Hn. Impressive. Certainly impressive.” He droned, jeweled eyes glinting from beneath the cowl he wore. “As a man of my word, I can assure you...You’ll not be skinned, nor thrown into the bowls of sexual slave trade.” He explained, following with a croon of sorts. “But you are stuck as but a lowly servant of your new Lord.” He bit out with a cackle. “Try not to be a detriment to my daily affairs, though.”

With a sudden gesture, he made to heft her onto her hands and knees. He fully expected her to crawl to his side, akin to the lowly filth he saw her to be. Truly, he hadn’t thought all of this through, and yet he found himself confident in his abilities to improvise and act in accordance to instinct and intellectual gain.

She could be useful. He’d have to tinker around and see what sort of attributes she had about her, but surely be she not mundane. Not a single soul upon this infested, spiraling, ball of sod happened to be normal. She surely had some unique gifts.

Doom was imminent, she felt it in every fiber of her being as the words shrieked from her mouth. Then..... a pause

Before her mind could process she had miraculously spared herself two terrifying demises, she found herself crashing to the floor face first. She let out a grunt of pain, feeling her body slam to the cold, unrelenting surface. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt some trickling from her nose. She lay there for moment, trembling, afraid to look up at the monster before her. Afraid of what he could do at any moment. His laughter, still echoing inside of her head.

The first time his hands clapped, her body jumped and she made a sound that was a cross between a squeal and a sob. Her entire body was visibly shaking and her mind seemed to be going blank at moments, like she was fading in and out of consciousness. Yet, his razor sharp words still managed to slice into her understanding. She had managed to escape death......... but at what cost? Would it have been better just to die?

Only time would tell.......

The sudden jerk of her body up to her hands and knees, startled her and caused her eyes to widen in terror as she gazed up at him. Like an infant animal looking at the hunter that slaughtered it's mother. Tears streamed silently from her horror filled, emerald eyes and a small trickle of blood ran from her nose. What a pitiful sight she must have been. On her hands and knees, unable to move. Completely paralyzed by fear.

She had to do something, something more than cowering in fear. However, her mind was exhausted all ready from what he had put her through.Only he knew just how much more he would put her through. As he had said before, her freedom and normalcy were now forfeit. Her life now would be one of subjugation at his mercy. Doomed to serve his beck, call and whim for the rest of her life. Which, was also his decision how long the rest of her life would be.

His gaze upon her was mortifying and a little confusing. She had no idea what she was expected to do, what did he want from her? Maybe he was upset he didn't get to kill her. Maybe this was the outcome he had wanted all along. None of it really mattered however, she doubted very much she was even allowed to speak to him. What kind of pet spoke with their master as an equal? None of her life before hand mattered anymore. None of her experiences meant anything and all of her dreams were now shattered. Who she became now, was entirely up to him.

She sniffed and wiped the blood and tears away the best she could before looking back at him with a scared smile. Forced and small. She wanted to look good if she was going to be a pet. She knew the more she followed his rules, the more likely she was to survive for longer. However, she knew at any moment he could wipe her off the face of existence. He might even do it just because he got bored of her. Whatever the case, her options were very limited.

"Y-Y-Yes, my M-M-M-Master."She stammered, looking uncertainly up at him.

Utterly pathetic. Sickeningly so, even. An askew, disgustingly unsure, smile settled on her face; it brought him a need to vomit. Perhaps she’d been psychologically tortured to the brink already. If so, she’d a rather weak mental constitution. Perhaps even unfitting to be naught but his slave-pet; or whatever it was she’d been meant to become. He’d been a fool to suggest such an obscure option. And yet, while a cruel, twisted, and deceitful individual; he’d keep his word. For now, at least.

“Don’t speak. Follow, you pathetic, lowly, and worthless wretch.” He grunted. He could only shake his head. She already managed to grate his nerves. Having her along would be nothing but punishment, punishment for allowing such an option to exist. He could still save face and wipe her from her spot like a stain, and still it felt unjust, even for him. He could only hope some unfortunate fate would befall her, considering his plethora of dangerous situations he regularly dabbled in.

Turning on heel, his every footfall echoed as he proceeded toward the shattered door, shoving it open with a heavy palm; enough force to embed the outer handle into the concrete wall outside. He almost seemed to seethe now at the idea of having to drag her around. Sure, she may have had potential, but if he’d condemned himself to having to keep her about him at all times, as if shackled to her by imaginary chains, he’d sooner snap her neck than resign himself to such a cruel fate.

An air of sinister, hellish, infuriation seemed to fester around him as the more he thought about it, the more intense his irritation became. His fury became so profound that it threatened to boil over.

In which it finally did, amassing as a fiery, oozing, manifestation of energy licking up around his figure like languid flames. A passing patrol cruiser seemed to slow upon the officer’s recognition of him. As it began to turn about, its lights flickering to life, a swift gesture of his hand uprooted the nose, and front tires, of the vehicle, swiftly upending it onto its roof, unto which another gesture of his hand downward flattened the entirety of the cruiser as if it were not but putty.

“Nuisances. I hate them.” He murmured, casually drifting across the pavement, meandering toward the outskirts. A sudden gaze back toward the furred creature that followed him so appeared to be high-strung, and unforgiving. “I deal with them. Do not be a nuisance.”

And at that point, he began to fade into obscurity; the Anklets of the Planeswalker activated. A gesture of his hand ushered forth the Bangles’ power, yet again, and subsequently would manifest as a vicious tug upon Jo-Jo; drawing her into the clutch of a merciless hand by her collar.

From there, they’d no longer be within Flora, nor upon Terra; transported instead to his office a myriad distance away.

Paying absolutely no attention to the what was happening on the other side, a shadow wandered down the street, crumpling a piece of paper in his clawed hands and throwing it on the pavement. He was in a BAD mood!
Well, he was never in a good mood (unless he was killing something of course!) But today, he was practically on fire! Passers by seemed to sense this, for not one dared to catch his eye. In fact, even the most hardened criminal would cross the street to avoid him...
“Hmmm. Still looking for a suitable place to start my venture!” He mused, as he walked along. That last place was no good. The agent must have been either blind or seriously deluded! ‘Spacious’ he had said. Pah! There wasn't room to swing a cat in the place! And the agent had regretted his dishonesty. Let's just say, he wouldn't be doing much estate agencing hanging upside down from the broken rafters with his throat cut open...
“I can't stay in the hovel for much longer!” he griped to himself. “The cats have started fighting! And I swear Lawrence ate one of the fairies. He's been hiccuping fairy dust all morning. The trouble is, people tend to fall over whenever he does…”

The cloaked feline, who was almost as black as the night itself, stared up the large tent that was plonked in the middle of the street with scathing, yellow eyes. This was NOT what he’d had in mind… and SOMEBODY was going to DIE!
“You IDIOT!” he screamed at the unfortunate man standing next to him. “This isn't the building I asked for! USUALLY they have these things called WALLS! And they tend to be made out of these things called BRICKS! NOT CANVAS!”
The young man quivered, “I-It was all we could find S-Sir,” he mumbled. “We couldn't f-find another estate agent willing to work with you... and everyone else simply refused answer the door…!”
Tesslar sighed grumpily, “FINE! If anyone wants me, I'll be in my room!” And tossed the canvas aside, before storming into the tent.
The man didn't answer. Mainly because he was lying on the ground with his throat severed...
“Lawrence! Clean up that mess!” Tesslar hollered, before walking towards his own private quarters, noticing someone standing just outside. “Ah! Bombalurina, my sweet!” he purred, suddenly the picture of charm. “I don't suppose you've seen my little Pearl anywhere, have you?”
The curvaceous red Somali took a deep drag of her cigarette. “No, sorry,” she said. “Last I saw, she had to go for a lie down… said something about a headache…”
Tesslar tutted, his features folding themselves into something akin to disappointment (a dangerous emotion for ANYONE who happened to be standing within ten feet of him!) before pulling themselves back into one of what seemed to be pity... although it was hard to tell the difference! “Ah... that is... unfortunate...” he muttered. “I was so looking forward to…”
Bombalurina regarded him nervously, but her flagrant demeanour never slipped. Not once. In fact, she smirked and rested her arms upon his massive shoulders. “Never mind,” she said sweetly. “I'm sure she'll make it up you when she feels better. In the meantime… why don't I…?”
“Hmmm…” Tesslar grumbled, “I suppose you'll have to do…”

A man pulled aside the curtain... shrieked! And quickly closed it…! But he wasn't quick enough!
The next thing he knew, he was being pinned up against the canvas, with a set of dagger like claws around his throat, staring down a gullet packed with razor sharp teeth! The growl that reverberated from the Cat's throat set his hair flying, “Who DARES to disturb me?!” Tesslar demanded. “You'd BETTER have a good story! I want LOTS of DRAGONS!!!!” And he tightened his grip, snarling (but secretly enjoying the terror he was inflicting, as the man breathed his last...!)
But just before the poor man died, he managed to utter the fateful words, “Sir… the Snowshoe’s escaped…!”
“WHAAAAAAAT????!!!!!@!”

From outside, a commotion could be heard coming from within the tent, the voices muffled. To passers by, it sounded as though someone was being murdered… but no-one stopped to investigate. For the simple reason that murders were all the rage in this part of town. In fact, they were so common that you could get them to order... and they usually came with a side of chips!
However, if someone had been foolhardy enough to look inside the large, circus style marquee, they would indeed, have witnessed a scene of utter carnage. Several Rats were dead, and Lawrence was pinned to the thick, black canvas with his feet dangling, by a seemingly invisible force! “You let her ESCAPE!!!?” Tesslar roared, his paw outstretched, staff pointing at Lawrence's chest!
“S-Sir…!” Lawrence tried to explain, though it was hard for him to talk- the force was slowly crushing his ribs! “She… she had a friend with her! A Jellicle...!”
That took Tesslar's mind off crushing the man like a coke can for a moment! He paused, arm still outstretched... “A Jellicle you say?” he said thoughtfully. “And... what exactly did this... Jellicle, look like?”
“S-S-Silver... black... tabby stripes! There was also a man with them…!”
“I see. That is… most intriguing...” The Fiend let go of the man, simply letting him fall to the ground in a heap, as he waved the staff and, moments later, a hologram computer screen appeared before him. “Evilyne!” he barked.
There was no answer (and Tesslar's eyes began to glow red!) “EVILYNE!!!” he roared. “Kindly answer me, you useless pile of junk!”
“What do you want?” The computer snapped in a monotone, staccato voice that sounded vaguely female. “I was halfway through upgrading my systems, I shall have you know. Now I shall have to start again. You bastard.”
“I don't care if you were filing your nails!” Tesslar snarled. “I want the names and faces of all the Silver tabbies this side of Terra! And make it snappy!”
The computer appeared to sigh moodily, and, a few, excruciating minutes later, thumbnails began to appear on the screen… over twenty thousand of them!
“Now Lawrence,” said Tesslar. “I need you to be a little more specific. Let's start with: Was it male?”
“Yes sir,” Lawrence quickly replied, and ten thousand thumbnails instantly vanished.
“Height?”
“Around 7,3.”
“Fur. Long or short?”
“Long, Sir.”
“Eye colour?”
“Green.”
“Breed?”
“A definite mix. Not a pedigree. At a push I'd say Maine Coon or Norwegian forest, with a bit of Balinese thrown in.” At that, only five thumbnails remained, and, still holding his ribs, Lawrence pointed to one, “That's him, Sir! That's definitely him!”
Tesslar enlarged the picture, and stood, staring at it for a long time. “Computer! Information on this individual please!” he barked again.
“Need I remind you that my name is Evilyne!” it replied moodily.
“Oh just get on with it, you virus infected Potato! Before I deep fry your hard drive!”
“Munkustrap Grayhame: assassin, status: mentor. Last known location: Gambit’s Bar…” As the computer listed off everything it had on the individual (including his birth date, star sign and family members... all the way down to his favourite childhood cuddly toy) Tesslar stroked the beard-like fur on his chin.
“So?” he mused. “Munkustrap Grahame, eh? My nephew’s killer? Residing here? In Wing City? Well, well, well! That is a turn up for the books. What electronic devices does he have on his person?"
"Target 197 carries a mobile wrist device. A Samsung Wristphone."
"Hmmm. Perhaps I will not kill you after all Lawrence! At least, not today! Computer! Track his phone, pinpoint his location!”
The computer was silent for another few ions (or what seemed like it anyway!) while on the screen, a circular throbber rotated around and around and around... "Negative," Evilyne said (after about ten minutes!) "Target out of range. Do you wish to retry?"
"No just forget it... Yes of course retry you idiotic machine! And keep trying until you locate him!"
Then he proceeded to interrogate the Mage for information on the other man (the one who had helped Jazzei to escape) and when Kurt Bannon's face appeared, Tesslar started to laugh. An evil, insane laugh that reverberated around the marquee and sent icy shivers down the spines of all those present… including a Red Somali queen, who was listening in the shadows...
The laugh was soon followed by a frenzie of stentorian orders, “LAWRENCE! Take your men and search the city! I want the girl AND Munkustrap. Both together! Preferably alive! However, you may kill the old man at your leisure! And don't you DARE fail me this time, Lawrence! Or I will change my mind about NOT turning you into a dust cushion...!”
"Oh, and one more thing," he added, just as Lawrence was about to disappear out of the canvas door faster than bat out of Hell. "Try not to get followed this time! I don't really want to have to kill anymore policemen. They made a frightful mess of my front porch!"

“So? Ladies! It would appear that we have a traitor amongst us!” Tesslar announced, as he walked up and down in front of the group of ten, nervous, Jellicle women, who were lined up against the far wall.
Some were shaking, others crying. The rest stared at him blankly, not knowing quite why they were there.
Twirling the beretta on a clawed finger, Tesslar continued the interrogation, “Come on! Which one of you was it?”
No one answered. So he sighed regretfully, took aim... and shot one of the queens (a brown and white Bicolour Angora called Aurora) square in the centre of her head, killing her instantly! And as she sank to the floor, the others shrieked and cried out in shock and horror…! As Tesslar spat, “I shall ask you again! Which one of you, sly little weevils stole my keys and helped my star performer, Jazzimoré, to run free?! Causing me to have get The Wolves in to kill her…?”
Bombalurina suddenly gasped, “What?!” Drat! She'd blown her cover!
“That's right, SWEETHEART,” Tesslar replied, looking directly at her with realisation dawning in his eyes. “Your precious friend is DEAD! And it looks as though you only have YOURSELF to blame!”
“I dunno what you're talking about!” Bombi growled, folding her arms.
“Oh I think you DO…!” Tesslar held up the gun-
“Tensey did it!” She said automatically.
“Hortenseya?”
Tutting, Tesslar turned to the Korat, her blue black fur shining with silver tips. “Tenseya! Tenseya!” he said almost pitifully. “Sensible Tenseya. Drummer of The Nymph Quartet and one of my finest acrobats. Why would you, of all people, do such a thing?”
Hortenseya glared hate filled daggers at Bombalurina, knowing full well that the Spartan Bitch had just sealed her fate. “I didn't do it, Sir,” she protested with tears in her eyes. Not of fear or sadness. But of anger! “She's lying! Can't you see?! I would never-!” BANG!
Poor Tensey never got another word out... dead before she even hit the floor, her chest ripped apart…!
Putting the gun away, Tesslar carried on as though nothing had happened, “Now let THAT be a lesson to ALL OF YOU!" He snarled. "I want no more sneaking about! No more treachery! No more lies! And if any one of you tries to escape, I will not only find you and kill you, but I will send the rest of you to Kingdom Come as well! NOW GET BACK TO WORK! Bombalurina. You will stay! I have need of you!”
“I can tell, Chicken!” the sassy Harlot drawled, not in the slightest bit phased by the ever growing pools of blood that were seeping into the carpet. At least, not appearing to be…!
Shaking and crying, the rest of the queens beat a hasty departure, going back to their jobs: which involved either cleaning the Marquee or otherwise, entertaining the ‘visitors’...

It started at midnight.
The prisoners were bundled out of the Marquee one by one and transferred to a blacked out minibus, with blindfolds over their eyes, and some with paws tied behind their backs (the squeaking fairies had been shut inside a special box which prevented them from using their magic; whereas the Alicorn had had its hooves clapped in chains.)
The Marquee was then quickly dismantled and stode away inside the boot of the bus, before it drove silently away, leaving behind no trace, aside from a few particles of dust blowing in the wind and collecting in the gutter, coupled with a number of stains darkening the cracked pavement...

Flora, a crime ridden city where the law is merely non-existent. Who knows how long the people here were allowed to run rampant doing whatever they wished. From stealing to killing the crimes could go on, but one thing was for certain for the forces of the Imperium. And that was that they would no longer simply allow this to happen, as such they responded in what they knew best, with a show of military force.

In the streets around midnight, mechanized and motorized transports began to roll into the city around an abandoned warehouse. Hundreds upon hundreds of boots began to march across the streets as well diciplined soldiers of the Cadian Guardsman began to get into position. Imperial Command had drawn a starting battleplan for them: secure a base of operations in the city to house Imperial Command and control in the area. Next convert the area into a regimental headquarters to properly direct forces and fortify the area in the event of any hostile action done against imperial forces.

Next part of the plan would go according to the Cadian Commander in charge of the forces here, his mission was to bring the hammer of the Emperor down on all criminals in the city. Lethal force was authorized when needed during this campaign. They were here to bring these criminals to heel. And they were coming in with zeal and fury.

The city was now under the watchful eye of the Imperium. As such, all criminals should be wary for the brave Guardsman are now here to stop them.

The Precursor has arrived, coming from Wing City Highway.

The Precursor vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.

Catherine Dumitrescu has arrived, coming from Wing City Highway.

Catherine Dumitrescu has left the area, heading in into Tilns Street.

Catherine Dumitrescu has arrived, coming from Tilns Street.

Catherine Dumitrescu has left the area, heading north into Wing City Highway.

Charles Lorian has arrived, coming from Tilns Street.

Charles Lorian has left the area, heading north into Wing City Highway.