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Asche Grey

Paradise Comes At A Price....

0 · 679 views · located in Le Havre, France

a character in “Dying Ashes”, as played by Seijichan


|| ASCHE||

·· Cαѕт yoυr eye тeαrѕ oɴ тo мe
Aɴd I'll ѕнow yoυ wнαт yoυ reαlly ɴeed
Gιve тoo мυcн αттeɴтιoɴ
Aɴd I'll reғlecт yoυr ιмperғecтιoɴѕ ··





|| Full Name ||
Asche Grey

|| Nickname ||
Just Asche, please

|| Age ||

|| Gender ||

|| Role ||

|| Face Claim ||
Gareki from Karneval

·· ɴow...

тнere'ѕ ɴoтнιɴɢ leғт...

тo dιe ғor ··


·· ɴow...

тнey cαll ιт...

α нeαrт-ғelт ѕυιcιde ··



|| Hair Colour ||
Very Dark Brown-Black

|| Hair Style ||
Unruly, much like the rest of him

|| Eye Colour ||
Pale Ice Blue

|| Skin Tone ||
Dark Creme/Light Tan

|| Height ||
Five feet Nine inches

|| Weight ||
One hundred Sixty-two pounds

|| Build ||
Firm and Solid; Athletic

|| Scars ||
Covered in myriad scars,
all over his body from training and other things;
take your pick.
The worst of them is a puncture wound on the
back of his right arm where he was stabbed in a fight
and from the same skirmish is a small slice mark on his
left side just below the ribs.

|| Tattoos/Piercings ||
No apparent piercings or tattoos,
though he secretly sports a naval ring with a cherry charm
and a cherry tattoo on the inside of his left ankle.
Less secret is the tribal style wolf tattoo
that covers his left bicep and shoulder (not pictured).


·· вecαυѕe yoυ're тнe God ··

·· oғ α ѕнrιɴĸιɴɢ υɴιverѕe ··



|| Positive ||
+Dedicated || Hey, a job is a job, right? Asche is very point and shoot—literally. He takes direction with ease and never ceases until his task is finished, no matter how long it takes or how far across the globe he has to stalk his prey.
+Analytical || With a very curious nature to begin with, it would almost make sense that someone so sharp as he is would have an amazing analytical mind. He's always had a knack for examination, especially with electronics, though he's become substantially better at reading people and social situations than he used to be.
+Attentive || So, you've wormed your way into his heart, huh? Well, this is purely on a personal level—once you've gotten in his good graces (this is nigh on impossible, though, so he probably has feelings for you), he'll go out of his way to make sure that he gets to see and be with you as much as possible. He's not about to drop his video games or target practice though, unless it's something serious. His bedside manner for those he cares about is impeccable and probably includes a heavy dose of affection. All in all, Asche makes a pretty good nurse.

|| Negative ||
-Arrogant || Maybe it stems from just being amazing at what he does, or maybe it's because he's just an ass; whatever the reason, it doesn't take much to feel cocky. Sometimes it's like the world is just the throne he sits on, and he doesn't mind talking down others to get himself that high.
-Temperamental || His moods are like a light switch—they only go two ways. Asche is either in an extremely good mood or an extremely bad mood, and more often than not, it's the latter. He has so many triggers that there really isn't any point listing them off; just know that he can snap at the drop of a hat, and when he does, someone usually gets hurt.
-Anti-social || He has a hard time opening up at all, letting alone letting people near him. Coupled with his calculating mind, his eloquent speech, his arrogance and his fragile temper, it can make him quite unapproachable. He doesn't really like people anyway, so Asche has no problem being left completely alone.... Though... it's been said that there is one way to impress him and work your way in; but that's probably just a rumour, right?

|| Likes ||
+Hot Chocolate || Most people come into work in the morning with a mug in their hand, and Asche is no exception. However, while most people prefer coffee or tea, Asche's mug has never held anything but his own special recipe for hot chocolate. Why? It's rumoured that once this liquid touches your tongue, you'll have seen the gates of Heaven. Nah, that's a lie. Asche just really likes hot chocolate.
+Briefs || The answer to that age-old question. Briefs just feel better, like all his precious equipment is actually being protected rather than just hanging around waiting for the right opportunity to get mutilated. It's a personal preference, and he seriously doesn't care what anyone else thinks.
+Target Practice || It's not what you think! He actually prefers to spend his time in the shooting range, wasting ammo on a paper target. It relieves stress and gives him the sense of solitude that soothes him.
+Video Games || His favourite being the Final Fantasy series (in specific, he loves Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus because it's probably the best first-person shooter he's ever played); Asche finds it easy to get lost in the world of gaming and loves nothing more than to spend his nights clearing games that he's already played a hundred times. Maybe it's a form of escapism, but if you told him that he would tell you to fuck off and throw something at you, so it's just best to leave it alone.
+Gackt's Voice || He doesn't like J-Rock, really! It's just... well... Gackt's voice is.... And Asche has a very strong voice fetish that makes it difficult to function if the right person says the right thing in the right tone of voice. As it turns out, Gackt is always the right person, at the right time, and always says the right thing. Kind of like Kimura Ryohei singing Devil's Spire with the inserts of speech that sound like he's breathing right against your neck and.... Devil's Spire definitely is not his ringtone, and for God's sake, don't ask him what an M Neko-chan is. Okay, he's slightly otaku, but don't talk about it.

|| Dislikes ||
-Bananas || They are disgusting, mushy masses somehow held together into a bright yellow phallus-shaped skin. He used to love them if only for the sexual connotation they held, but then one day someone blended one into a smoothie with strawberries and ever since then he's been a changed man.
-Ear Buds || He doesn't like having things stuffed in his ears at any other time; why would he want to stuff his own ears with something hard and uncomfortable just to blare music into them? He's good enough at ignoring people on his own thanks. Nope; it's over the ear headphones or nothing for him.
-Cities || Oh hoh, where to start? Let's see.... There's smog, traffic jams, people, subway stations, buses, no elbow room, some creep breathing down your neck in a back alley, street sweepers, garbage collection, accidents, buildings five hundred times his height, stray cats, predatory birds that shit on unsuspecting passersby; it's loud, there's no privacy, and there's too many taxis and not enough police. Enough said.
-Cold Weather || When it drops below six Celsius, expect Asche to start bundling up. He hates cold weather with a passion, and with it usually comes long johns and leggings under his jeans and a tank top, t-shirt, long-sleeved button-down, a pull-over sweater, a zip-up hoodie, and then his winter jacket. This is no exaggeration, either. In the spring and summer, if there's a cool breeze, he'll throw on a light sweater or jacket over a tank top because he hates feeling cold. Nights for him usually consist of curling up under a blanket with his old-school Playstation 2 for a few hours. Asche... you're doing it right.

|| Dreams ||
Really, he just wants to be finished with work, get a job as a video game tester, maybe find himself a boyfriend and live in a small house in the country. He doesn't enjoy being dragged around the world hunting people that he may or may not even be able to haul back in for Sirion to torture. It's not that he really cares what happens, more that he just feels like he's wasting his time.

|| Fears ||
Asche is actually petrified of quite a few things—just because he's a hard-ass doesn't mean he isn't just like every other human, right? The list starts with porcelain dolls with their little glass eyes just staring unblinkingly in that creepy way that they do, and ends somewhere around small Asian children—The Grudge was a bad idea, okay? Fuck logic. He's also not a fan of large dogs, airplanes give him panic attacks, if there's a balloon in the area he eyes it down so he's ready when it pops, and he's paranoid that if he forgets food in the oven that it'll catch fire. Most notably, he doesn't like to be stared at or watched—it isn't as much a fear as an aversion or a discomfort, and it has nothing to do with self-confidence issues, but it can go one of two ways depending on who it is. On the one hand, he may lash out with violent words even physically if he's been seriously offended.... On the other, it's quite possible that he'll just cover his face and tell that special someone not to look at him.






|| Occupation ||
Head of Sirion’s Retrieval Task Force

|| Romantic Interest ||
Sasha; but if you say anything, you will surely die

|| Theme Song ||
Muse – Shrinking Universe

Owl City - Vanilla Twilight

|| Biography ||
We could go back all the way to when I was born, sure. It's quite the story to tell, actually—see, my life was quite an eventful one, right from the get-go. I'll try to keep to only the important bits, lest we be here for hours. So, let's start with my conception, shall we? That's the first time I truly became a thought in this world, an entity that was given shape by the reckless rutting of a man and the whore he supplied with cocaine. And so, six months later, I was born very premature, and very underweight even for my age; I guess my birth mother forgot about me because I spent my first few months in the ICU, and she left and never looked back. I know this through my adoptive father, a doctor working at the hospital who knew my mother—an old classmate of his—and knew what she'd been up to since she left high school. Apparently I wasn't the first kid she'd done this to, and I wouldn't be the last.

Around the time that I was born, a company called Sirion which dealt mostly in pharmaceuticals—though they had an extremely successful line of electronics and a wireless internet branch as well—were doing clinical testing of a drug that was supposedly reported to increase vitality and likelihood of survival in preemies of unfortunate circumstance like me. For a while, I was given injections at the hospital where I was born, but when my adoptive father was offered a job developing these drugs for Sirion in a lab in Burma, he got his work visa, packed up what little he needed, sold his house, and arranged for my safe transport to the new location. That's where I was raised, in the residential sector of the lab. I didn't see anything wrong with it. Lots of other doctors were there, had families and pets, and there were tons of other kids to play with... I just was not, under any circumstances, to ever leave the residential sector. The more that Dad drove that home over the years for me, the more curious I became, of course; because whenever I asked why, there was always some excuse as to why he couldn't tell me. It grew increasingly frustrating, and I've always been pretty irritable, let me tell you that much.

It wasn't until I was about seven or so that I could really start enjoying life. With the help of Sirion's mystery drug—which had ceased testing due to a huge number of fatalities due mostly to brain tumours or the deterioration of internal organs such as the heart, stomach, and lungs—I had flourished despite all odds. So what? I was a stunted, underweight cocaine baby that didn't just sprout, but exploded into childhood a little taller than average and with enough energy to power the lab for a week. Not literally, but sometimes I felt like it—a kind of electric tingling beneath my skin, which sometimes coincided with such occurrences as flickering lights and electronic malfunctions. Of course, it also coincided with the most curious phase of my life, in which I was able to devise the sort of plan a seven-year-old does to escape from unwanted circumstances... usually that is, adhering to authorization. In this case, I was superbly interested in what lay beyond the doors of the residential sector, and I turned out to get a lot more than I bargained for.

First of all, the halls were constructed in a very labyrinthian manner, so getting around on it's own was a task. Then, most of the doors were locked, so I'd never know what was inside them and that was very disappointing. And the worst of it was when I'd wandered for what felt like hours but was probably no more than thirty minutes or so, I found a sort of playroom filled with kids as young as three and as old as sixteen; I wanted to know how they were allowed of of the residential sector and I was not; I realised that I still tended to get sick easily and needed my daily injection to keep from completely deteriorating in health, but that didn't mean that I shouldn't be allowed to come out and play.... Except that the other kids there didn't want anything to do with me. Maybe it was because my clothes were nicer in comparison to their plain paper gowns, or maybe it was just because they didn't feel like including another kid. Either way, I made a point of coming here whenever I could to make friends though it never quite went as I expected. As the years dragged on there seemed to be a smaller and smaller number of kids here until I walked up to the glass wall one day and there were only four left. I was seventeen, pretty much had lost all hope of making friends, and now I just came here out of habit. I'd gotten to know a lot of the doctors and expressed an interest in what Sirion was doing if only to gain access into the world I was ever curious about, always wanting to know more and intrigued by the stories of these four who remained.

It didn't take me long to see that this lab deep in the Burmese jungle was solely dedicated to human experimentation, some of the most rigorous and disgusting that I've seen even to date. The worst of it was that... having been given the go-head to start apprenticing under my Dad, I was able to sit in on some of the tests, on the other side of the one-way glass, and I felt nothing for what happened to these four. Whether they knew it or not, I felt rejected by them and it caused some feelings to fester into hideous blackness—not to say it's directly their fault I'm an asshole, but they and their kind... all those years and not a single word to me. I was almost happy that they were being tested on like this.

Of course, emotions like these often lead to mishaps in the workplace, and a rather bad one including the short-circuiting of some very important equipment had Dad and I packing up and moving to one of Sirion's labs in the far north of Russia where, wouldn't you know it? they had a facility much better equipped to do tests on the adoptive son that had been volunteered by his daddy dearest. Through this, I found that I'd had something unusual, something that caused me to be able to manipulate technology, though it was usually for the worse, and as long as my mood stayed fairly even I didn't have to worry about it. Not that I'm one to talk about emotional control since my mood can turn on a dime. Here they were able to do some other testing with me, discovered that I had exceptional vision and hearing, and had me start training in Tae Kwon Do to get my agility, speed, dexterity, and stamina up. When I was nineteen they put a gun in my hand for the first time, and it just felt right. I've always been a prodigious marksman, but that was all small time stuff; holding a real gun made me feel so important, so powerful....

And then they told me what all this had been for. Two years prior, an explosion at the lab where I'd once lived had allowed four of the test subjects to escape; four subjects whose pictures I recognized instantly. Sirion wanted them captured and brought back alive; all this time, I'd been trained for this exact purpose to one day head the task force assigned to retrieve the mutated subjects and return them to the hands of their creators. I understood fully, took my training very seriously, and when I was twenty-one I was assigned a team to help in my endeavours, a total of six years after their escape. For two years now I've hunted them, having taken over for an older man who obviously couldn't get the job done. In those two years I've had an increase of 15% in physical contact with them, running around from sighting to sighting and never quite able to get my hands on them. But that's all going to change—I will not stop pursuing until I have what I want.

·· cαɴ'т yoυ ѕee ιт'ѕ over? ··

Time of Day (Morning, Afternoon, Evening, Night)

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[color=#261F59][size=100]Time of Day (Morning, Afternoon, Evening, Night)

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So begins...

Asche Grey's Story

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April 1st — Morning
Sirion’s Paris Location

You know that feeling you get when you’re so fucking close, but then in one little fucking slip of the wrist, you lose it all? It seemed in the last two years, my life had been nothing but that feeling, that tense anger, a residual energy tightening my core and making me unbearably indecisive about how I was feeling. I’d always been pretty testy, but it was now more than ever. Last time I’d been so fucking close! I’d had that little white-haired one with my arm around his neck, a gun to his head—it was almost enough, I would have had two birds with one stone. The look on his face said that the dark-haired one would have done anything—anything—to keep me from unloading the whole clip in the side of Czeska Hallstatt’s head. Yeah, they had names, that was right. I didn’t know why Sirion didn’t just assign them numbers; someone like me would have had a much easier time trying to remember those rather than names.

Still, the anger had kept me from sleeping that night, and I had simply lounged in bed, full attention on Dirge of Cerberus as I worked on my literal hundredth full play-through, secrets and all. It kept my mind on something else, though as soon as I was finished defeating Omega just one last time, I threw the controller down. Sun was leaking into my bedroom through the horizontal mini-blinds. Fucking Hell, I’ve got a Goddamned meeting today. I wasn’t going to be ready to take this head on at all, I wasn’t going to walk in, work on sitting patiently and listening without interrupting to tell everyone what fucking morons they were being. They always wanted to discuss the best course of action for apprehending the targets, like it was any of their business—they gave me the job, and I was going to do it my own way, regardless of what they thought. Hadn’t my methods been working so far? I’d had one of them in my hands before he bit my arm, leaving a bruise that lasted almost ten weeks; he even broke the skin and it’d bled. Then they’d run off together, and by the time I’d gotten around the corner after them, they were gone.

It had been six months since then, but that wasn’t about to stop me from flipping out over it. I turned on my side, listening to the sound of Gackt’s unique voice with that intense vibrato, and felt somewhat soothed. Enough to just close my eyes, let it envelop me thoroughly, and heaved a sigh. The transitions between being calm and slightly dark with just bass and light drums during the verses to heavily almost angry, intense, with a full band and a slightly rougher sound to Gackt’s voice…. It felt like my temper. I was either one or the other; the in-between was non-existent. The lyrics themselves were quite poignant, too, and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into them, with no intention of sleeping. There was a reason why I’d ventured into J-Rock after playing this game the first time—the insert song, LONGING, and the ending theme, REDEMPTION, had triggered an immense sexual lust for that man’s voice. I’d known previously, or had an idea of my sexuality before, but after hearing it one night…. Let’s just leave it at that; we don’t want to get too messy here. Anyway, it didn’t hurt that Gackt was a very good-looking guy—his thirties had been insanely good too him, though he hit forty and he started to deteriorate, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about his 2010 pictures in the shower. I did go there, thank you.

It kept my mind off things, for long enough. Until there was a knock on my bedroom door and a muffled voice called my last name timidly. Instantly that tightened feeling was back and I ground my teeth to keep from applying my fist to the wall. Last time I’d done that was in the Russian lab, and I’d done more damage to my hand than to the wall—a fractured right hand and subsequent months of complete abstinence will teach you to never punch a wall out of anger again, even if it looks like plaster. Instead I rolled onto my stomach and groaned loudly into my pillow, turning to take a quick breath and respond before the woman on the other side of the door opted to enter in the case that I was actually asleep. “What the fuck do you want, Bridgette? I’m making it snow.”

“Well… Mr. Grey…. I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it’s almost time for the meeting; the Director wanted me to make sure you were coming….” Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her; she was right to be confused and afraid.

In a hasty decision, and more to bother her than anything else, I blurted this out: “I was just about to before you ruined everything! Didn't I tell you I was making it snow?”

The ensuing silence and a stunted, “Oh.” left me seconds from hysterics as everything dawned on her all at once, but I bit my lip. None of that, now. “Ahhh… I… I see…. I… I’ll just… I’ll tell the Director you’re com— you’ll be there…. Thankyousir.” And with that, Bridgette made like a banana and split. The easier they were to bother, the easier it was to shirk duties and ignore responsibility.

Fuck meetings.

And fuck Bridgette, in the most non-sexual way possible.

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Sasha Niehaus
Sirion Paris Headquarters

“Really? He actually said that to you? Why Bridgette, you get to hear all the naughty things don’t you?” Sasha drawled as he rested his lean frame against the desk of the director’s executive assistant. He’d been here waiting when the timid looking woman had bustled back to her desk, flustered, her cheeks still tinged with red. Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, he gave Bridgette his most charming grin and set to needling out exactly what had the normally staid, boring woman so embarrassed. Sasha was extremely talented at gaining the trust of others and Bridgette was no different, it didn’t hurt that he cut a handsome figure, something he was well aware of and often used to his advantage.

He couldn’t help but listen in rapt attention as she explained how the agent she went to retrieve had casually referenced his morning activities and the word snow came up more than once. Sasha couldn’t hold back the deep laugh of amusement, poor Bridgette it didn’t take much to scandalize her and he wondered to himself who’d been the fellow so fond of winter sports? Straightening his jacket more out of habit than necessity he figured he would find out soon enough, perhaps Sasha would be receiving a new handler. At this point anyone would be better than the Doctor he thought as he absentmindedly ran a long finger across the scar trailing across his throat. Uncrossing his long legs and rising to his full height of nearly six and a half feet, Sasha stretched much like a cat and favored the secretary with another rakish grin.

“Tell me, Bridgette love? How long are they gonna keep me out here waiting? It’s been nearly an hour, and while you are lovely and an entertaining companion I’m a bit anxious to find out why I’m here.” It was at this moment that the intercom on poor Bridgette’s desk crackled to life, the director’s voice piping through as though the man were contacting them from inside of a tunnel and not the next room.

“Send in Niehaus.”

“And that’s my cue.” Sasha replied with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows at the easily discombobulated assistant before slipping through the large, ornate door that separated the director of Sirion from the rest of the peons milling about the place. This was Sasha’s first visit to the Paris headquarters, surprising considering how often he’d moved from research facility to research facility in his formative years. The only reason he was here now was because the Doctor had ordered him to get on a plane and do as he was told. Of course Dr. Niehaus declined to tell him exactly why his presence had been requested…or demanded, yet cryptically revealed that this venture could change the entire outcome of Sasha’s life. As if he’d never heard that before.

Stepping into the luxurious yet sterile office, Sasha’s gaze quickly scanned the expansive room as goose bumps trailed across his skin. These things always made him nervous; even now he could feel his heart flutter in his throat like a bird. Regardless of the shroud of confidence and nonchalance he usually covered himself, Sasha was well aware that meetings like these cut right through the pretense. The important thing was to pay attention and to protect himself not try to impart how cool he was.

“Sasha, you’re everything your father said you would be.” Came a deep, jovial voice from his right, spinning to look at the distinguished man sitting behind the large desk, Sasha managed to keep the scowl from his face at the familiar use of the diminutive of his name. Even his so called father didn’t call him Sasha. He’d always been referred to as Aleksandr or It depending on the day when it came to the good Doctor. In fact there was only person currently allowed to call him Sasha and he really couldn’t let his mind stray any further into that subject lest he forget himself and why he was here, and why was he here?

“I hope he said good things then, sir.” The younger man replied, folding himself into the chair the Director motioned for him to take. Lacing his long fingers together he did his level best to refrain from fidgeting or showing any signs of nervousness. He had to prevent himself from revealing any weakness to the Man behind it all, if Sirion knew his weaknesses they wouldn’t hesitate to use them against him. Of course the twenty six year old had been around long enough to know that there was a file a mile thick, the star subject being himself with a list of weaknesses a foot long.

“He said very good things indeed. I’m sure you know about the debacle in the jungles of Southeast Asia?” The man began, favoring Sasha with an insincere smile. Of course Sasha had heard about it, had actively wished that he’d been one of the subjects to escape, six years later and they were still free and here he was still Sirion’s lap dog. Silver eyes returned to the man’s face as he continued, explaining the failures of agents past in retrieving Sirion’s lost property.

“The time has come for decisive action, do you understand? Sirion has lost all patience with this endeavor and we will do whatever it takes to retrieve what belongs to the company. Which is where you and your…ah, special talents come in to play. I know, I know, let me stop you before you begin. Why on earth would you hunt down these test subjects, so very much like you, very nearly your kin? Why, you probably even feel some sympathy for the creatures? Is that right?” The older man’s eyes narrowed, watching Sasha like a hawk for his reaction relaxing a bit as Sasha nodded uncertainly. The usually calm and collected man felt an inward surge of anxiety unsure of where this was leading and if perhaps he’d just made the wrong move acknowledging that he felt sympathy for the escapees.

Leaning back in his chair and folding his large hands over his stomach the Director smiled in what he thought was a warm and fatherly way at the white haired man before him, to Sasha it seemed as though he was an animal about to pounce although what he said next threw everything in Sasha’s head into immediate turmoil.

“I have one word for you, Sasha. Freedom.”

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April 1st — Morning
Sirion’s Paris Location

And on the topic of fucking, I really wasn’t too fucking sure I wanted to get up. Gackt had long faded back to the Dirge of Cerberus title screen, and after Bridgette had left me the Hell alone, I was pretty sure I was going to sleep all day. Meeting? What meeting? I hadn’t heard of any such thing. Good enough excuse, I was sure. So I just rolled over on my side, wrapped my arms around the body pillow that I usually snuggled with because no one was going to tell me not to, and I closed my eyes, intent on the longest nap ever. I was thinking as hard as I could about those 2010 Gackt pictures, hoping for a little insert somewhere, pretty much convinced that any and all dreams about him would be of the explicit sort—you can’t look and sound like that without warranting a Parental Advisory warning, alright? It was just that phase in my life; Gackt is a God, and that’s all there was to that.

I was all swaddled in blankets, warm and fuzzy, ready to go under when the worst thing possible happened. I had to go. Now, a stupid person would have just succumbed to the call of nature, enslaving themselves to bodily functions without thinking that there might be a better way. I really didn’t want to get up, and I suppose that’s my own fault for staying up all night playing games, but I was still pretty sure that I wasn’t leaving my bed, even if I had to piss myself. I took a quick scan of the immediate area, looking for a bottle, something with an airtight lid that I could just throw out later; but there was nothing and I groaned in defeat. There was no way I, Asche Grey, head of the Sirion Retrieval Task Force and the only one to get my hands on one of them since they escaped. I had a lot to be proud of, and I just felt that laying here wallowing in my own misery was probably something a homeless drunk would do. I was better than that. I was a grown man, for fuck sake. Reluctantly, I did heave myself up out of bed finally, wrapping my duvet as close to my partially naked body as I could; not because I was cold or naked, but because I still had my navel ring in, and I didn’t need it getting out that I had a pair of cherries dangling from my own personal ecosystem. That was information that was sure to get into the wrong hands, and I didn’t need that at all. Things were stressful enough around here.

I mean, I was the head of a whole task force; people often came to me for direction and advice, and I actually had to answer them seriously. Not that I’m not serious about my work… I just wished they’d quit being morons and do something for themselves for once. Motivated self-starters with brains. That was all I needed. Just one. One… fucking… douchebag, who knew what his job was. Let me tell you though, Life was going to make me eat those unspoken words, one way or another. I’m not exactly sure what I did to Karma to get such a crappy turnaround, but I should have expected the outcome.

Eventually, I did make it to the bathroom, shaved while I was there and ran myself under some hot water. Now that I was up, I might as well be awake too, right? So from there was a trip to the kitchen where I whipped up a mug of hot chocolate, and then I travelled back down the hall toward the information center to see if there were any leads on my targets yet. Between the dormitory and the workplace, however, was Bridgette’s desk, across from the glass elevator and directly in front of the Director’s office where most of the meetings were held. I huffed quietly, rolled my eyes and headed past Bridgette—who couldn’t even look at me by the way—yanking open the ornate double doors with panache, not even caring to knock. “Director. Guests,” I greeted merrily, throwing my duvet off my shoulders for added effect. Mostly I wanted to use my three-quarters nude state to embarrass the Director as payback for making me get out of bed, so I wasn’t so sure I cared if anyone saw the cherry charm hanging at my very toned waistline. I marched up to an empty chair and was about to drop into it when I scanned the room a second time.

Let me tell you something—I always analyze a location before I do anything else; it’s force of habit now with all the training I went through. I look for possible weapons, exits, escapes and anything else I can use to my advantage, among other things. Maybe I was just off my game that morning. I took one look at that white-haired beast of a human being sitting in the chair to the direct right of where I was currently trying to sit, and made quick work of spinning around as fast as was even possible, heading for the door. “I’m not doing this today. With all due respect, you can all go to Hell.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faye Hawkins Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Sasha Niehaus Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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April 1st- Morning
Sirion's Paris Location

Ah, dreams! They were always so....fucking weird! Why, during her most recent sleeping session, she had a dream about capturing the escaped subjects, had another one about falling in love with a giant gummy bear only to eat him during their honeymoon, and then another one about having some sort of *cough cough* with both Sasha and Asche. She woke up after the last one giggling to herself before she looked at the time and pouted.

A knock at the door made her pout more. "Faye? It is time for the meeting!" It was Bridget....perfect!

"Huh? What? Can't hear you, Bridget dear!" Faye lied, prompting Bridget to enter and see Faye's nude form laying on the bed, and causing Faye to giggle maniacally. "Well? What'd you say?" she asked again.

"G-Uh....Um....Meeting.....Director...Now...." A blush had smashed into Bridget's face. Clearly she was not having a good morning.

Faye sighed and flopped on her bed, not wanting to put on clothes....oh well! She put on at least a pair of panties, and then a bath-robe, walking through the halls of this weird ass building. She'd been here for a few months; she'd seen all four of the Escapees, but never got close enough to do anything to them. She envied Asche in that regard.

Speaking of Asche, it seems that he had just revealed himself to both Sasha and the Director! With a giggle she clapped slowly and loudly. "My, my! I did not know that you took lessons in stripteasing, Asche! You must show me one day!" She giggled, pulling up a chair and sitting in it, the robe she was wearing barely covering her ample chest; not that she cared.

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Character Portrait: Faye Hawkins Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Sasha Niehaus Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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April 1st — Noon
Sirion’s Paris Location

At the door, I snapped my duvet off the ground, drawing it close enough that I was so sure it could probably become one with my body. That would have been alright, right at that moment. “Oh, would you look at that; Hawkins is here too. You wanna know how I got so good? I spent a good deal of time fucking myself; you should probably do the same.” To most it would sound harsh. And if people were offended and hated me for such comments, then good for them. That many less people I had to deal with, and the fewer the better. That comment had triggered an almost audible snap inside me as my mood instantly darkened. Before I’d been unpleasantly peeved at Sasha’s presence, and now I was definitely leaving that room with a bang, slamming the doors open and shut as I set my jaw to try and keep myself under control for now.

I made a beeline directly for my room, leaving Bridgette with a rather pointedly rude comment as I left—“I can see your fucking nipples through your shirt, Bridgette; it isn’t that cold in here, you whore.”—and made my way back to my room to flop face-first on the bed. Deep breath in, hold for three… two… one. Out. Repeat. It never helped, but it gave me something else to busy my mind with rather than wondering what would happen if I tried to put my fist through the wall right now. I figured I probably shouldn’t test it—better safe than sorry, right? and I was going to need my fapping hand later—and instead changed the briefs I’d worn all night last night, throwing a pair of dark wash jeans, a tightly fitted black tank, and a zip-up hoodie with the drawstrings missing. After that was the goggles that I pulled onto my head, slightly askew as per usual. Finally I buckled my holster in place at my waist and I was ready to sneak out down the hall, slipping into the elevator to head down to the range for a little peace and quiet.

This was my sanctuary. I scanned my cardkey at the doorway, pressed the door firmly shut behind me, and heaved a sigh. The scent of gun powder was always heavy in the air and it instantly soothed my frazzled nerves, leaving a sort of euphoria that filled my body, easing off the edge of the residual anger of less than a half hour earlier. It was just coming noon now, and I considered myself lucky to have the range to myself just then; having other people there would not have improved my temper at all, even if I was slightly tamer here than I was anywhere else. First thing, my handgun was in desperate need of a cleaning, so I sat myself down at a table in the back of the room, dismantling the weapon with ease, cleaning each part individually and with an immense amount of care. I thought… this was probably the part of me that if anyone else were to see it, I wasn’t sure they would look at me the same way; and I really didn’t want that. A calm and collected Asche, with a heart to boot? No, they’d have even less respect for me than they already did. Couldn’t have that at all.

After putting her all back together, I made sure everything was in working order before taking a number of clips, stepping up to the range, and loading my gun. New paper targets had already been placed up on this side of the range—the other side had a set-up of mannequins that for some reason I was never quite comfortable targeting. I preferred the paper, stationary; and no, that was not a pun that I intended. It was easier for me to relax like this, when I was thinking only of myself, the gun, and making the bull’s-eye. I wasn’t any kind of a prolific shot, and I was usually just off. Still, with every coil, every click and subsequent explosion of firepower as the bullet was projected from the barrel, and every new hole in the paper, I felt a sense of tranquility seeping in. This was so much better.

A release of breath, another shot, and a small hole right in the center of the target. Now that was something to be happy about.

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Character Portrait: Faye Hawkins Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Sasha Niehaus Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Sasha Niehaus
Sirion Paris Headquarters

“So exactly what sort of dress code do you have around here?” Sasha asked sardonically as Faye made her presence known and what a presence it was. Sasha might have preferred the company of men to most but he could appreciate an excellent physical specimen when they were in front of him. Speaking of appreciating physical specimens, he couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by Ashe’s swift departure. Sasha was aware that his presence here would come as a surprise but he hadn’t quite expected outright rejection and a full on escape. Though if Sasha had been asked he probably could've come up with a few ideas as where to find Ashe, ideas which he would use later. If Ashe thought he was going to get away with that display he was terribly mistaken.

It had definitely come as a shock to him as well to learn that he would be reporting to someone who let him willingly take advantage of them in their personal life. Preferably, Sasha would’ve liked to have kept business and pleasure separate but considering that both he and Ashe were inexorably tied to Sirion they’d been lucky they’d hadn’t worked together sooner. Sasha had been informed of the team being formed to find the escapees, recognizing them as capable agents but in all honesty his heart might have skipped a beat when his eyes landed on Ashe’s name. Of course by then it’d been too late to back out, he’d signed a contract not to mention the very real fact of his freedom being on the line. A contract seemed a bit ridiculous to the twenty-six year old who was well aware that he was not technically a person and instead legal property of Sirion, but he’d signed with a flourish and a smile. He would play the role a while longer, at least until he got what he wanted.

Leaning back in his chair, Sasha tried in vain to keep his gaze from the following the younger man’s retreating figure. Yes, he would most definitely have to go to Asche, smooth this over, and make it okay for them to be in this together. There were too many things riding on the outcome of this operation, first and foremost Sasha’s own freedom. They’d have to figure out how to work together, the alternative wasn’t worth thinking over.

Silver eyes immediately shuttered and narrowed, closing off any emotion besides shallow amusement. He knew what happened when he showed a preference for things, or liked something…or someone. It became one of their freaky, little experiments and he’d be damned if he let that happen to him and Ashe. So instead he turned his attention to the newly arrived Faye, who was always good for a bit of fun. You’d probably end up naked, but that only added an exhilarating edge to things in his view.

“I heard you were here, darling and looking lovely as ever.” Sasha offered, a wolfish grin stretching across his face as he rested his chin on his hand, grey eyes appreciatively taking in every inch of proffered flesh before winking at the feisty woman. “What say we go and find our sad prince? Our little band has only just gathered and he’s already trying to run away. Typical.” This would also give Sasha a chance to speak with Asche and Faye in relative privacy and perhaps make it clear just how important this way.

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Character Portrait: Faye Hawkins Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Sasha Niehaus Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Faye Hawkins
April 1st- Morning
Sirion's Paris Location

Faye only smiled at Asche's rudeness and talk of fucking himself. "Isn't that what we all do in our spare time?" She asked as she left, not turning her head to look at him. She then sighed and winked at Sasha in return, smiling at him.

"Why thank you, my dear Sasha. You're looking very lovely, yourself." she offered in return, her fingers running up and down the lapel of her robe, wanting to take it off and just walk around nude, but knowing better as she sighed softly, having to deal with teasing the eyes of those who found her to be eye-candy.

"I think we should go and find him; I haven't had a chance to offer up my body to him in order to make him even more pissed off~" She said giggling softly. "Unless, of course, you want me? Hmm? Just to anger him a little bit more?" She asked, standing and beginning to walk out of the room, keeping her seductive, playful eyes on him as they walked together, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her robe as she walked calmly, a smirk on her face.

"Hmm....Who to prank today~" She mused softly, looking around. "" She nodded to a guard at the end of the hall way, and, just for show, snapped her fingers, his pants suddenly dropping as his belts and whatever else held those things up suddenly vibrated into nothingness.

She quietly giggled at the view of the man's underpants, resuming her walk calmly.

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Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Zavian Kale Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Sirion Paris Headquarters

Zavian rolled his eyes as he read the angry email from the director. He closed his laptop and put it into his dark brown leather pack. He sipped the last drops of his black coffee before he stood from the café’s table. He put the last of the cash in the wallet he stole on the table before he threw the wallet on the ground. Then he pulled up his skinny black cargo pants and smoothed out his tight long sleeve white shirt. You could see the outline of his piercings through the shirt, but he didn’t care. Next Zavian buttoned up his grey wool trench coat. Finally he slid on his bag. He had to take a deep breath before he slid his hands into his coat’s side pockets and began to walk to Sirion’s headquarters in Paris.

At the main entrance to the headquarters he kicked door open just as someone opened it for him. His short black leather boot with a matching black metal buckle skidded against the door. He heard the guard curse, but just gave her the finger as she opened her mouth to yell at him. Zavian then headed to his room. Zavian was less annoyed as he saw his luggage had made the trip. He simply had a normal dark green suitcase with a matching carryon. They put his bags on his bed. He left all of his clothes in India because it was way cooler here. Zavian felt cold and it was so-called spring here.

He was suppose to be in the director's office right now, but he didn't care. After being scolded in an email he didn’t want to see that idiot. Sure he hadn’t come to the headquarters when he was ordered to, but still. He had wanted to see a bit of Paris. Including, he need new clothes. Zavian had ordered them online and they were to be delivered tonight. Now he just opened his carryon and took his gun out. He sat on his bed as he proceeded to take his gun apart, clean it, and then put it back together . I need to practice today. I was stuck on a that jet for a while and then of course I had to explore a bit. I’ve also been slacking these last few days. It isn’t like I can shoot things just anywhere...maybe I’ll get to shoot someone on this mission even if the targets are suppose to be returned alive...I was told just to find them, but who knows what will happen...

Minutes later Zavian left his room and made sure it was securely locked. With everything he came in with he went to find where the range was. It took him a while to find the place, but he did it with the help of his laptop. He just pulled up a map of the building. In the elevator he put his laptop away and slid on his pack once again. He entered the range quietly with his eyes scanning his surrounding.

Asche Grey was there. Zavian knew whom it was just because he looked up the people he was going to be stuck working with. Zavian only went as far as looking for a picture of each and their full name. He rolled his eyes and went as far as possible on the other end of the range. Zavian got everything and himself ready before he loaded his gun. Seconds later he began to shoot at the set-up mannequins. He mostly shot them in the head, neck, elbows, stomach, knees, and even crotch.

It was a while later before he decided to say something. He placed his gun down and cracked his knuckles. He moved the protective eyewear up into his hair and pulled his protective earmuffs down around his neck. Zavian walked up behind and tapped Asche on the shoulder when Asche paused in his shooting. He cleared his throat softly. Once he knew he had Asche attention he would speak.

"So Asche, how did the meeting with the asshole go?" he asked. I sure as hell got yelled at for not attending it.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Faye Hawkins Character Portrait: Asche Grey Character Portrait: Zavian Kale Character Portrait: Sasha Niehaus Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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April 1st | Afternoon
Sirion's Paris Headquarters

It felt good just to be able to stand there alone, gun in hand as I made a direct point of widening the hole I'd already made in the center of the target by aiming around it until it was big enough to fit one of my fists through comfortably. By then I had calmed substantially; my heart rate was down and the feeling of pressure building in my gut as it threatened to explode out the top of my head had disappeared. Not only had this been a very productive practice session that had been—for the most part—quiet, but even my muscles felt loosened; the difference was almost astounding. With a heavy sigh I moved back to the table at the back of the room, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge that was off to the side before I sat with my feet up.

It was time to do something thinking on serious matters.

First of all, this mission. I'd been at it two years and Sirion still didn't trust me to get things done. I had to wonder why—had I maybe done something that made them think I was going to betray them? Or maybe they were just getting sick of waiting. Either way, I knew that there was a reason behind replacing my old team with Faye Hawkins, Zavian Kale, and... Aleksandr Petrov Niehaus. Sasha. It was an interesting little mash up that they'd thrown together, definitely the best of anyone I'd had the absolute... pleasure of meeting in the past. I honestly couldn't help but think there was something else going on just outside of the meetings and the assignments. Something that nagged at me, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It made me feel sick to my stomach. Honestly, though I felt nothing for the fate of those mutated vagabonds out rampaging the French countryside, I started wondering about Sirion's motives, finally making up my mind to look into this and do some digging when I didn't have everyone else breathing down my neck. I wasn't about to leave this one alone.

Just the same as I couldn't leave alone the ass pain that had left my skin tingling with an uncomfortable numbness, made my heart leap into my throat, and my lungs forget how breathing worked. Sasha.... It had been a total shock when I'd realized him and his impossible height just sprawled out all over thee chair I usually sat in—couldn't really be upset about that, you know what they say about the early bird. Mostly I was wondering how I was ever going to make it through this mission with him acting as a part of my team; especially if he'd been assigned to be my right-hand man. My gopher. My wingman. The Robin to my Batman. Even thinking about it now left my mouth dry and stirred up the anxiety that I refused to admit that I was feeling—I pushed it down with a long drink of water, doing my best not to let it get to me. A bit too late though. Sasha's being here was affirmation of a part of my life I'd have rather locked up and forgotten. His voice on the back of my neck was like liquid lust, injected directly into my veins and from the first moment I'd met him I had been utterly addicted. He made me feel small and shameful, but also made me want to do bad things—I wanted every inch of his perfection in a way that was confusing and alluring all at the same time.

I wanted him in my mouth.

The best part about people like Sasha and I is that we always get what we want. I wondered if I really regretted it as much as I wanted to think that I did, and maybe that made me feel even worse about the whole situation. Sasha Niehaus was my drug, and even thinking about him made my blood boil in a way that was much too uncomfortable to stay sitting where I was. A quick assessment of my solitude affirmed that I could slip into the bathroom unnoticed for a little hand jive.

No, there was no way I was going to survive this.

Afterwards, that tension and pressure had returned tenfold. Not that he'd ever left my mind truly since our first encounter, Sasha was like a plague of locusts, sweeping in and eating away at everything left of me. Not that I minded being putty in his hands; but that was just for him. No one else was allowed to see that quivering mass or hear the broken mewls that he elicited from somewhere inside me that I refused to acknowledge. The frustration of not being able to keep my shit together called for another few rounds on the range; I had to try and focus elsewhere.

A few rounds in and someone invaded my space, set up on the other side and for the most part kept to himself. When he finally approached, I was ready; having done the best detox possible when one's addiction is six feet four inches of heroine and cocaine personified. I turned, gave the intruder a once-over and stuffed my handgun into its holster, flipping the safety on as I did so in one swift motion. “The meeting? No fucking clue; I copped out.” Not feeling that this needed any explanation recognizing Zavian Kale from the files that I'd skimmed, I leaned back against the table where I'd laid out all my full clips. “Though I can guess that it probably wasn't very productive; considering that there's a 90% chance everyone is naked, I'm sure it was fun. Or it turned into a giant orgy. Whatever comes first, I guess.”