Setting
The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. Resting at the edge of the gloomy Cursed Woods beneath a massive, spiraling decline of stony stairs, The RIP is quite secluded from the rest of the civilized world. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place, its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating.
Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests".
As a government institution, the RIP is mostly guarded and maintained by the NPA. Enforcers patrol the castle at all times, specially-equipped to pin down even the most aggravated of superhuman inmates. The institution is also equipped with several well-supplied laboratories, the unseemly quantity of powered inmates making the place a breeding ground for scientific inquiry.
All scares and frights aside, The RIP is remarkably equipped, always prepared to accommodate superhumans of every shape and color. While the majority of The RIP is a sprawling prison/asylum, the facility does possess a few cultural outings, particularly the artistically-seasoned atria and lavishly-decorated dormitories. Were it not on the edge of a cursed forest and the home to hundreds of criminally-inclined superbeings, it would have made a nice hotel.
The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.
She waved a hand, "I'm getting a head of myself. I hope you are enjoying the evening so far?"
From the door emerged an elderly businessman. He was dressed in an exquisite midnight blue tailored suit that was adorned with onyx cufflinks. Emblazoned upon the cufflinks were white open hands formed from opal with the palms facing outward. Carved into the palms were stylized ruby red triangles. An onyx ring around the middle finger of his right hand matched the cufflinks. A deep purple neck tie wrapped around his neck and tucked into the suit jacket. White hair receded from his forehead.
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"Agent Coleson," the slightly stout man nodded to Lebrun, "as I'm sure you're aware, much of the reason doctor Davrell hosted this event is to show off the benefits of the Institution. He hopes the rest of the NPA will appreciate his hard work." He gestured towards the cooridors. "Why don't you head a bit further into the atria? I think the doctor is going to address us shortly."
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Though, he just had to go on ahead and extend his hands to her, almost too eagerly, with a crooked grin. "And I am Captain Rida Galimas, myself. Nice to meet you, uh, Kynala. Really."
Rahuna gave him a short, sharp glare.
"Mr. Ereb! Mr. Ereb!" one of them got close enough to ask a question, "what's the latest on Ereb Industries new tech development programs? We've been hearing all sorts of rumors!"
Another approached Amanda. "Ms. Ereb! How does it feel to be one of Terra's most eligible bachelorettes? Are there any leading men in your life?"
---
Several reporters also stepped up to snap pictures of Derrick Rose. The latest Militiaman had arrived. Since he hadn't yet entered the Atria, he was fair game for the pickings of the media. "Mr. Rose, Mr. Rose!" a girl called out, shoving a mike in his face, "how do you feel about the opening of the RIP? Will this at all effect the way the Militia operates on Terra?"
He then looked to Catira, wondering if she wished to follow along with him or mingle with the others. Of course, she chose to stick right by his side. Giant maneating behemoth or not, social events were a curious wonder filled with nervous bewilderment. It was also very different in the eyes of a young girl. She gave the smallest curtsey to the agent and repeated Casren's greeting before turning her eyes ahead, growing large at the simply large mass of people.
Daemala flit with her wine towards the fray, as Casren and Catira slipped into the Atria.
Pause for everyone to get that into the blogosphere. "When you're working with people who can lift cars, fly and even rub shoulders with TETRS agents, you kind of get the feeling that you're a bit out of your league. I just wanted to be a regular guy with regular-guy problems. That being said, I'm glad that Terra finally has a place devoted to the detainment and rehabilitation of its greatest foes."
He gave the standard Militia salute. "To ourselves we bow."
He grinned back at Jayden. "Well I can't remember most of it, though there was this one time I walked into this liquor store and literally started opening bottles of-"
He suddenly halted, feeling a particularly familiar blend of emotions in the nearby area: flirtatious humor and easy-going happiness... all smothered in a sea of arrogance. Derrick Rose.
"Rose just showed up," he said to his two other Militiaman, frowning immediately after, "...and judging by the wave of shocked emotions I'm getting off of the reporters surrounding him, I'm willing to bet he just something very controversial or surprising."
"I agree completely, though it seems most of its inhabitants are humanoid in appearance. I must say, however, I am very fond of the floral designs. Is that quite real? Forgive me if I sound ignorant. I have not yet had the chance to explore very many other races since coming to Terra, but I would love to learn."
Rida, who had only partially gotten the message, nodded. "Ah, yes. I...I agree with what she said. I like the-" He twirled his finger around his head, meaning to gesture for her headdress.
He wasn't one to assume that just because they both had pasts involving going fast and showboating that they'd automatically get along, but it was a conversation point at least.
"And you just started opening them? Wow, Ethan - you? I never pictured you the petty crime type," he remarked, grinning. "Or was there more to that which eliminates the shoplifting aspect - I'm not judging, mind! We all did crazy things when we were younger... I remember this one time I literally stole the engine out from one of my rival's ships. Man, was he mad... I couldn't go back to that planet for months!"
The woman puffed her cheeks up, blowing out air towards Ethan. "That's...relative. With the way these things go, I'm sure there'll be deals out the behind, in the secrecy of dark rooms. If something goes wrong, I get the feeling it's going to be the biggest shitfest and you guys would have your work cut out for you." With a sigh, she shrugged, adding, "Well, to be fair, there are a lot of possibilities so there's no point in worrying about it."
With a slight smirk crossing his face, one that was quickly replaced by a genuine smile as he proceeded into the event, Kvan entered the main area and watched the multitude of people. It reminded him of home, in a way.
As he weaved his way through the crowd, picking up a slender glass of champagne on his way, his footsteps were light and gentle, an oddity considering the obvious weight of his boots. He noticed the large group of reporters and, out of habit, avoided them, taking a seat just outside the herd of humanity milling about, all talking to one another about idle things.
The CEO kept her eyes on Rahuna, allowing Rida to make his mess of communication without embarrassing him with a stare. "I am of the Ri, specifically. A migrant nation - I'm a member of our Council, but I'm not here politically, but on behalf of my company."
"Interesting get-up," she smiled, "are you with those Misranan people? From what I've seen, these aliens have curious fashion tastes..."
Regardless, his adviser to the company insisted on starting up some form of restoration project or another. Not that he didn't have the finances, he had plenty, he just would rather the place remain as rubble. What was another shit stain on the map, anyway?
His means in particular of arriving there were standard, it was via limousine, and as he stepped out of it, hand raised to his eyes to shield whatever barrage of flashes might come his way, the driver announced his arrival in a rather extravagant tone.
"I would like to announce the arrival of Mr. Jonathon Lectre, heir to the Lectre Corporation, and tycoon extraordinaire."
Jonathon would only scoff at this, raising a hand to run through his hair and using the free one to pick the cigarette from his mouth and toss it to his feet, then proceeding to grind his heel into it. He was just a pissant like all the rest of them.
"Misranan? No, Miss. I'm from one of the nations of a place called Dusseteu. The Nation of Wind, to be precise." He smiled and looked her over again, not bothering to hide the fact that he appreciated her looks. "You're dressed quite well yourself, if I may be so bold as to say such things." He held out a hand to her.
"Kvan Skyheart, at your service."