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Ventrue

Ventrue

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A modern day gangster-style role-play that's gritty, dark, and full of suspense.

2,403 readers have visited Ventrue since Seraph created it.

Introduction

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::"Ense altera manu ... Et sceptra altera"::
::"In one hand the sword..in the other the scepter."::



The American Mafia (or simply the Mafia in the United States), is an Italian-American criminal society originated from the Sicilian Mafia. Much like the Sicilian Mafia, the American Mafia had no formal name and was a secret criminal society. Its members usually refer to it as Cosa Nostra or by its English translation "our thing" (or "this thing of ours"). The press has also coined the name "National Crime Syndicate" to refer to the entirety of U.S. organized crime, including the Mafia. The Mafia emerged in New York's Lower East Side and other areas of the East Coast of the United States during the late 19th century following waves of Italian immigration, especially from Sicily.

"What began in the early 19th century, began to die out in the 70's, 80's and 90's. By the year 2000--The American ideal mafia that had been ironically romanticized by public opinion, and a few leaked secrets-- was hardly in any working order if at all existent. From the original Five Families, came a sixth and perhaps--most dominating family--DeLuca. Leonardo was at the head of this family who was, at one point, an unheard of entity when compared to the notoriety of the Gambino, Lucchese, Genovese, Bonanno and Colombo families. However, that would come to change--drastically.

Leonardo swiftly put an end to his long time rival Augustino Bonanno of the Bonanno crime family. This is what put De Luca on the map. To this day, no one knows where Augustino is. No one wants to know--because Leonardo made it that way. Leonardo was both a polished politician and a raw mobster. He could take you out to lunch and then shoot you in the head while being guilt free. But in no way would you describe Leonardo as "ruthless". In fact, he gave plenty to charities for noticeable causes, rather than amass his fortunes and hoard it. But when he wanted something--truly wanted something--he got it.

Leonardo started first by paying of simple folk--firefighters, policemen. Then, he went a step higher. Legal secretaries, lawyers--even judges. They didn't feel beholden to him. He didn't incur and "favors" of them..yet. When it came down to it--Leonardo had even breached the CIA, the FBI, the DEA even the DSS and Secret Service were under his payroll and he had them deep in his pockets. You ever hear that saying "Kill'em with kindness and all that? Well he was taking it to a whole 'nother level. While they felt financially safe--Leonardo DeLuca was literally running the show. He cast off the old moniker of "Cosa Nostra" and replaced it with "Ventrue" Latin for "Blue Bloods" otherwise royalty. He bound the weaker families together and united them under his banner of Ventrue.

Embezzling, racketeering, duplication of legal tenders, made him a king. S.W.A.T, the Feds, and the CIA--made him untouchable. Leonardo was running the show from New York city, from a 14,000 sq.ft. Three level English Manor House on 2.8 acres. A modern day castle. He and his wife gave birth two sons--the heir to extreme opulence. Nickolai DeLuca, and Nicodemus DeLuca. It became very apparent that the siblings, the twins, were vastly different from one another. Nickolai had a fiery temperament, he was brash bold, courageous and enjoyed the finer things his luxury could establish. His brother, Nicodemus on the other hand, cast every thing off with a cold indifference. They both had extremely charismatic personalities. They just held them selves truly differently.

Nicodemus would try to always work for his place, his cunning and deceitful manner much like his father's in earlier years of the Ventrue. Where as Nickolai's flamboyant and carefree lifestyle, were a calling card to his youth and aspirations. But no good deed goes unpunished. Leonardo died unexpectedly leaving a fractured Ventrue to proclaim a heir. Was it to be Nickolai who was the oldest? Or Nicodemus who was the most logical sounding choice? The split began tearing the foundations that Leonardo had built upon for many years. While brothers themselves, not openly fighting--were wrapped up in a game of cat and mouse with each other. Each eluding the others legal battles. Soon, it would come to much more than that.

But on that, the Russian's, a long time enemy of the Ventrue sensed the instability of the Ventrue themselves and made their move. They began unloading themselves by the score through boats and ships--smuggling rings. Soon they controlled the docks and ports. While Ventrue remained the stronger affiliation, the Russians were fast gaining notoriety and infamy. Often through sheer brutality. But what will come of the Ventrue and its empire with its king dead and sons fighting? Will they ultimately choice who will be the next ruler? Or will the Russians gain the edge and take over all that they have?"


Capo Di Tutti Capi (Boss of Bosses) : Leonardo De Luca- Deceased
The Capo Di Tutti Capi is the most influential Don of all the Dons. The Capo Di Tutti Capi normally heads the Cupola (Commission) meetings where all the Dons meet to discuss inter family disputes, war/peace, rackets, and territories.


Capo / Don / "Godfather"(Boss):Nickolai De Luca/ Nicodemus De Luca
The Don is the head of the family, no one can call the shots over his decisions. He is also only 1 of 2 people who can initiate someone into the family. Since his rank gives him the authority to give the oath to new members and make them Sgarrista.. He also has the authority to give people their positions and ranks.


Sotto Capo / Capo Bastone (Underboss):Spot to be filled
The Underboss is appointed by the Don. He is the second in command of the entire operation. He is usually the leader of "day-to-day" functions..Hes the muscle on the street. His word should go unchallenged by everyone except the don. He is basically the top dog when it comes to the work on the street. The Don goes to him for "orders" and "jobs". He is also to see to it that the Caporegimes stay in check. Underboss is the only other person who has the authority to swear in new members, but he must report them to the don.


Consigliere(Counselor / Advisor):Unnamed man
The Consigliere is voted by the whole family(made members). In theory, the consigliere is the same rank as the underboss. Yet the consigliere has no power in the "day-to-day" operations. He is only there to advise and sometimes question. He is the equal rank of underboss but does not have the authority to give any orders. His job is to advise on all of the don's decisions and some of the underboss's. He is the only one in the family who is allowed to speak his mind on all important matters and even question the don, yet can not override him.

Caporegime(s) (Crew boss / Captain:Duncan
A Caporegime is appointed by the Don, and is in charge of his own borgata(regime, or crew). Which is made up of a Capodecine and soldiers. Each Capo reports directly to the Underboss or Adviser for permission to do different things. When someone is needed to be "taken care of" the capo's are usually asked to carry out the order. They are the head of "day-to-day" operations of their own crews. The capo heads a crew of any given number of soldiers. These soldiers give the Capo part of their earnings, and the Capo gives part up to the Underboss or Advisor. Caporegimes are also the ones who may ask and recommend certain men to be sworn into their crews. When this happens they must ask the underboss or the don himself. In a sense, crew boss's are head of the "Street Side Gangs".

Capodecine(s) (Boss of 10 / Boss of 12/ Lieutenant):Natalia
The Capodecine is normally appointed by a Caporegime. For each 10 (or 12) soldiers the Caporegime appoints a capodecine to watch over. This is not used in every family.


Enforcer(s):Tommy
An enforcer, may roam from territory to territory, on the Don's say so. He is not part of a crew, or a boss of a crew. The Enforcer gets his orders directly from the Don or Underboss.

Sgarrista / Soldato/High Soldier:
The Sgarrista is "made" into the family by the Don or Underboss after being voted for by the captains and up. One of the biggest honors in La Cosa Nostra(This Thing Of Ours) is to be initiated into a family. When you take the oath and our sworn in under the blessing of either the underboss or the don himself, you become a "Sgarrista"(Soldier) and you are a "Made Man". When you are "made" which is taking the oath, you become a part of the family, you become one of us. Even though you are one of the lowest rank in the "real" family, you still have alot of power over associates and friends. You are assigned into a crew and given a capodecine. From then on, your captain and\or caporegime will give you orders and jobs. When your a soldier..You are commonly mentioned as "a friend of ours".

Picciotto(Low Soldier):Mona's father
The Picciotto is "made" into the family by the Don or Underboss after voted by the captains and up. Sometimes this position is not used. When you are "made" you attain the rank of picciotto, which is the rank of soldier(read the definition of sgarrista)..but lower class soldier. When you show that you are a good earner, and buisinessman you will attain the rank of sgarrista ). I don't think this is used at all, except maybe in the sicilian mafia, i am not totaly sure.


Giovane D'Honore Associates(Non-Made Members / "A friend of mine" / Associate):Mona D'Andrea- Nick's Side When your a "made man", or any other rank for that matter, you may have buisiness dealings or partnerships with non-made people. These are "associates" commonly refered to as "friends of mine" when mentioned in buisiness meetings. So the bottom line is all non-made people who have dealings with the family, are associates\friends. They have no power in the family.There can be "members" who are not "made" into the family.. They can not attain any other rank until they are "made". They are just guys who run with the crews in day-to-day operations, normally working for a soldier.
-----------------------------------------------------------The Bravata -----------------------------------------------------------


::Pakhan:: - is the Boss or Krestnii Otets "Godfather" and controls everything. The Pakhan controls four criminal cells in the working unit through an intermediary called a "Brigadier."Tæfarós

::Two Spies:: - watch over the action of the brigadier's to ensure loyalty and none become too powerful.

1. ::Sovietnik::- - ("Councilor"), is the advisor and most close trusted individuals to the Pakhan.

2. ::Obshchak:: - the bookmaker, collects all money from Brigadier's and bribes the government.

::Brigadier::or Avtorityet ("Authority"), is like a captain in charge of a small group of men. He gives out jobs to Boyeviks ("warriors") and pays tribute to Pakhan. He runs a crew which is called a Brigade (Bratva). A Brigade is made up of 5-6 Boyeviks and Shestyorkas. There are four Brigadiers running criminal activity in the Russian Bratva.

::Boyevik::- literally "warrior" works for a Brigadier having a special criminal active to run similar to American Mafia soldiers. A Boyevik is in charge of finding new guys and paying tribute up to his Brigadier. Boyevik is also the main strike force of a brigade (Bratva).

::Kryshas:: Literally "roofs" or "covers", those who are extremely violent "enforcers" and cunning individuals. Such and enforcer is usually employed to protect a business or several businesses from a rival criminal organization. NarrowEye

::Torpedo:: "Contract killer"

::Byki::- bodyguards (literally: bulls)

::Shestyorka::- is an "associate" to the organization also called the "sixth". Is an errand boy for the organization and is the lowest rank in the Russian Mafia. The sixthes are assigned to some Avtorityets for support. They also provide intelligence for the upcoming "dielo" or on a certain target. They usually stay out of the main actions, although there might be exceptions, depending on circumstances. During a "dielo" Shestyorkas perform security functions standing on the look out (Shookher - literally: danger). Shestyorkas are usually young males up to 24 years of age (approximately) and are Vory in training, so to speak. It is a temporary position and an individual either making it into the Vor-world or being cast aside. As they are earning their respect and trust in Bratva they may be performing roles of the regular Boyeviks or Byki depending on the necessities and patronage of their Brigadier or Avtorityet.

Toggle Rules

1.) My word is law. What I say goes. I will be fair and systematic.

2.) No swords,the only bladed weapons may be combat knives which are at best 9" long, and throwing knives.

3.)Due to the nature of this role-play--there will be sexually explicit, as well as drug and violent content that may or may not be suitable for all ages. Discretion is advised.

4.)No one is a walking tank. Someone shot in a lung can not continue to fight like he is unstoppable. I should not have to tell you this.

5.) If you are affiliated with either Nicodemus or Nickolai DeLuca--You may have whatever gun you wish--provided you are in a suitable position to have it. If you are a member of the Russian affiliation--you may have a side arm such as a pistol doesn't matter what type, or a shotgun until later on then it can be of whatever Russian make you want but it has to be Russian I don't mind if you "pick up" a weapon that's not but to start out with it must be Russian. The head of the Russian Mafia may own whatever gun he cares to.

6.) I will play both Nickolai and Nicodemus until I find someone suitable for Nicodemus that can and will play him correctly. I have a very specific personality that goes along with the story.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 11 authors

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Deanna nodded as she slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear she had noticed him limping, "Nick please tell me I can talk you out of this. Stay here and I'll take care of you instead of going off half cocked and offing yourself" she said looking down at the grenades in her hands. She had always had feelings for Nick her heart always feeling as though it would bounce right out of her chest when he was around. She looked him straight in the eyes with all sincerity that she could muster, "Please Nick I promise you I'll take care of you, but don't do this", it was common knowledge that Nico had murdered their father and Nick had taken the wrap for it. She set the grenades down on the counter walked up to him slowly, and placed her hands on his cheeks, "Nick doing this isn't going to bring them back and it definitely wont bring Nico to justice. You need to get your head on straight and think before you bust in guns blasting". She felt like her heart was breaking with his she understood what it felt like to loose a parent, to slowly watch someone waste away. She couldn't help herself any longer she slowly slipped her arms around his chest, trying not to cause him pain from the injuries he had sustained, gently laying her head on his shoulder. "Please Nick don't do this", she could hear his irregular heart beat from what ever he had taken, the thud was like soldiers marching in her head.

"Deanna,Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"(What's going on?) Renae watched as she backed away from the young man he gave a half smile "Nick, vous allez bien?"(Nick you alright?). He looked at the grenades and then he looked Nick up and down he was in bad shape. "Come on son come into my office and will talk about this bon son"(sound good), he had respect for the DeLuca's more so than the Russians. But all he could think about right now was how this boy looked, if he had been his father he would pray to God that someone would sit down and talk to him before he made a terrible mistake. He knew his daughters feelings as well and didn't want her to suffer any more heart break than what she had already had in her short life. She was so like her mother she cared so deeply for everyone even someone she didn't know from Adam. He had met with Nick on occasion, each time he had seen subtle indications from his daughter about, Nick but he didn't realize how deeply it ran. She was so shy that he would have never noticed especially with women throwing themselves at the boy since he hit puberty.

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#, as written by Korrye
Once again her call went to voice-mail. With three attempts committed, Vivian knew that she would be resorting to other contacts and methods of finding her employer. Nick was in trouble. He’d never failed to answer that phone on any normal day. Today was odd, and she was up to her ears in issues.

Setting her personal cell back into her pocket the mercenary got to work on the cellphone she’d stolen off her former lover. The basic model was well known but alterations were very apparent. Sitting herself down at her desk in her bedroom, a place where she had often polished weapons, Vivian pulled the back of his phone off again with her left hand. Taking a clamp left in a small drawer on her right side she set the phone with the screen facing down and toward her. With the tool holding the phone steady to the desk she was able to get to work.

The morphine was far from a booster to her senses. In fact every so often she would pause, her hand poised over the electronic device, while she waited for her vision to clear. Despite the direct shot of morphine she still felt the echoes of her broken bone. It would take a properly placed acupuncture pin to calm the nerves, a trick she’d rather do before bed when she wasn’t moving around. Her wrapped and splinted right hand remained on her lap while she moved. Often she would slip up and move it anyways, using it more as a weight. She couldn’t maneuver her fingers with any ease yet. The swelling was pushing against the bandage now. She could feel her pulse deep through her arm.

It wasn’t at all that her attention was completely directed towards removing the low bug. When the scuffle of a person entering her apartment occurred she stopped her work, holding a miniature screw-driver in her left hand and listening. She knew it was him from his footfalls, a pattern well exercised and remembered by heart. The smell of his cologne and sweat met her nose as he approached her from behind. Goddamn him. He’d done enough to wrong her. Now he had the audacity to take her twice in one day. Enough was enough.

"You really shouldn't do that,”
he warned, his voice low and husky. He was breathing heavily, meaning he’d been an idiot and rappelled down her apartment building until he’d found the right window. His showmanship bothered her. Now she was out window as well as her personal sanctuary due to the fact that he now knew her address.

“I rigged it to blow the lithium battery if someone started messing with the back up tracking device. I'm sure you know what a frag grenade victim looks like when face is hit with searing hot shrapnel," Al explained, taking it upon himself to sigh as if he was dealing with a child. Vivian sat upright with her body unmoving, her eyes watering in the process. She knew better. She knew everything he was saying and could have finished his sentence if she'd wanted. Her former lover pulled the screwdriver from her hand, something she released because she had absolutely had it with him. She would no longer be nice. She was seething. Her teeth clenched tightly and her hand hung over her work. A displeased look took over her face. The morphine didn't seem to matter. Adrenaline was kicking in and she could feel her eyes focus.

Al set his switchblade down on her working desk, the knife handle carved and black, reliable and a tool that he had taken with him all over the world. The man got to work on his own phone, not even seeming to notice Vivian who sat just to the side of him. She watched his hands go about the task she had set about doing, in the exact series of steps she had been attempting to run through just moments before, only with one hand. When he resumed speaking, explaining his choices of wiring and booby-trapping Vivian closed her eyes, letting her left hand fall onto her lap with her right clenched into a tight fist. Exhaustion was pushing her into extreme irritability. He had no idea of the animal he was frustrating. She had lost all sense of decency now when it came to dealing with him.

Alphonse grabbed hold of his switchblade, flicking it close with a swish and replacing it in with the rest of his gear. Slowly he backed away, eying her naked walls and décor choice with judgmental eyes.

"You ever think about back then...?" He trailed, his voice low and in thought. Vivian’s eyes flashed open and she licked her lips, sitting forward, her left hand moving under the ledge of the desk. It seemed as if she were occupying herself really, pressing her hand into the ledge of the desk while she looked ready to burst into tears. Slowly her fingers slid, gripping the lip until they brushed against the cold metal of her Glock 22, hidden for safekeeping underneath the desk board. It was a point of easy access and a gun hold she’d built into the furniture herself. That’s what her apartment was, strictly functional. Bold pieces of artwork added a modern feel with the red and steel grey color palette but otherwise it lacked her personal touch. It lacked the luster of her Italian dwelling. That place she knew would remain hidden.

She pulled the gun swiftly. It wasn’t a time to be slow, no matter how much her body willed it. Within five seconds she was standing, facing him, her body taught and in position. With one hand she held her gun, prepped and ready, a regular magazine inserted and the safety off. Within six she’d fired a shot, aiming for his upper shoulder. With the first out of the way she dove at him, wrenching her right arm into the air and bringing down her elbow into the back of his neck. He’d turned his back to her.

Al shuffled forward but was quick to turn and face her. He grabbed her gun hand, barely staggering from her blow. Vivian tossed her head forward, ramming the crown of her skull into his jaw. Due to their height difference she slammed into the bottom of his chin, sending his head back. This time he was forced, due to simple physics, back from her. She fired again, this time into his right arm for good measure, before bringing her gun in a pistol whip across his face to knock him out.

When his body hit the floor she breathed deeply with accentuated pants. She shook her head and winced, feeling the throb of a migraine in her forehead. It felt as if a person were taking a rubber mallet to the small space between her eyes. Congestion gathering in her nose. She snorted back spit and snot before stepping back and setting her gun back down on her desk. She had only a few minutes to ensure that she had more time. Moving back into her ensuite bathroom the mercenary pulled a small vial of clear liquid and a fresh syringe. The anesthetic was a drug that would have no side effect on him when he woke. Depending on how much she injected, he could be out for an additional half an hour to six hours. Knowing she needed sixty minutes to clear her apartment and wipe it down of her presence she took an allotted amount before reproaching her former lover.

“I’m not sorry for this,” she grunted as she leaned beside his neck and pressed the needle into his jugular with her left hand. With the injection in she felt his body further relax into the wood of her floor. Taking the garbage in her hand she moved quickly, reclaiming weapons, clothes and whatever she could. Most of it was already boxed. All she had to do was move it into the main room before calling on the doorman to claim it and ship to an address that she gave him. From there she would bounce her belongings gradually through people until they would lose documentation before getting them to Italy. Due to her connections with people in shipping Vivian knew he would never find her things.

The weapons she had on her included her reassembled Beretta, Glock 22 and a stowed away Cheytac sniper rifle, her baby of babies. It was all replaced in her personal suitcase, barely unpacked since her arrival in the US, and left with the doorman as well for her to claim in half an hour. For twenty minutes she gloved herself and ran over the surfaces she’s touched and come across. Wiping down her apartment was such a common exercise, such a repeated task, that she knew she would have no trace of her existence there. Within fifty minutes of giving Alphonse his shot she departed, taking with her suitcase from the doorman and heading back onto the street.

Earlier this morning she’d called a connection to have her Camaro left on her block. No ticket had been left on her dash, a courtesy of having Nick on her side. Climbing into it she tore off from her block heading straight off the island.

Once she had gotten across the bridge she pulled off to the shoulder of the road and took out her personal cell phone to call the one man she’d heard was also watching Nick; Alessandro.

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#, as written by Seraph
11:30 A.M

"Nick please tell me I can talk you out of this. Stay here and I'll take care of you instead of going off half cocked and offing yourself,"she said looking down at the grenades in her hands. She had always had feelings for Nick her heart always feeling as though it would bounce right out of her chest when he was around.

"Please Nick I promise you I'll take care of you, but don't do this"

She set the grenades down on the counter walked up to him slowly, and placed her hands on his cheeks, "Nick doing this isn't going to bring them back and it definitely wont bring Nico to justice. You need to get your head on straight and think before you bust in guns blasting".


Nick's eyes looked tired, they looked worn. The cycle of drugs and constant fights. The crinkles at the edges of his eyes that, normally a much older and wiser man would have were evident on this 23 year old man. His blood shot eyes looked over Deanna's face. Her wide brown eyes were so full of concern for him, it was disheartening to watch her. Listening, his eyes following her course of action as he set the grenades down on the counter.

He flinched when her hands, her warm hands touched his scalding cheeks. His flesh, just like his temperament, fiery and passionate. But his lips still held a blueish coloration to them from his down several large shots of various beverages in quick succession. Natalia had burned him good and left him like a wet dog in a torrential down pour. But this girl, she seemed genuinely upset at the way he appeared, not like himself.

Nickolai swallowed hard when he felt Deanna's hands cup and hold his face; his breathing harsh and labored, forced even. as his lungs tried to keep up with what his mind had wanted. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth. Oh how he longed to be held in a warmth like that. Knowing that, he could return to this warm embrace or cherish a kiss at any one moment. He held her hands that possessed his eyes as they closed to produce the slightest bit of moisture.

Gently resting his forehead to hers, his dirty features coming under closer inspection by her eyes. His breath, while not appeasing, wasn't overpowering with alcohol. It was left with an after taste of sweet and spicy, with solid cinnamon notes and a light floral undertone. The entry opens with clear honey notes which is quickly backed up by a perfect level of cinnamon. There was more spice there than heat and the spice is absolutely dialed in. The cinnamon faded in the mid-palate and gave way to a subtle milk chocolate note which lingered after a fairly swift finish. There was absolutely no heat in the finish.

This combination left him with a very intriguing scent. He gathered her hands together between his, and kissed them gingerly for he was full of remorse for having to do something that broke her precious heart. He hadn't it to be this way, in fact, if he knew his brother would be fair he'd have probably let her take care of him and been happy with that. He repeatedly kissed her unstained hands, his tears mixing with his kisses.


She couldn't help herself any longer she slowly slipped her arms around his chest, trying not to cause him pain from the injuries he had sustained, gently laying her head on his shoulder. "Please Nick don't do this", she could hear his irregular heart beat from what ever he had taken, the thud was like soldiers marching in her head.


"Je suis désolé ma chérie j'ai besoin de faire cela pour vous, pour tout le monde. (I'm sorry darling I need to do this for you, for everyone.)" Nick said softly, letting her arms protectively coil themselves around him. Her head nestled against the crook of his shoulder. His face softened a bit, and he let his arms gradually slip around her as well, placing a hand along her sid and the other began caressing her long brown hair.


"Deanna,Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"(What's going on?) Renae watched as she backed away from the young man he gave a half smile "Nick, vous allez bien?"(Nick you alright?). He looked at the grenades and then he looked Nick up and down he was in bad shape. "Come on son come into my office and will talk about this bon son"(sound good), he had respect for the DeLuca's more so than the Russians.

"Je vais être bien. (I'll be fine.)" Nick stated, kissing the top of Deanna's head, still running his own calloused hands run through her silken strands in slow, repeated motions. His hands were calloused from the years of killing and training; dull to the sensitivity that hers had fortunately never lost. He watched her back away from him, his cheeks so dirty they carried the streaks where his tears had fallen briefly. He then turned his head towards Renae and nodded. "Comme vous voulez (as you wish.)." Stepping past Deanna, he grabbed the two explosives tucking them in his pocket while his side arm was still visible from his waist band.

Stepping into the small corner office, watching as Renae shut the door. The old man had a shit load of questions, like small post its all over his face. He knew he was gonna be in for a long one from the former French Naval officer. He stared out the window at Deanna, her face so sad now. He'd once made it so happy in its appearance. He'd once made a lot of people happy. Now things were just going wrong, and they only kept getting worse. He knew he had to stop Nico, every fiber of his being screamed out in silence that it made him tremble with rage.

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Renae nodded looking at his daughter's eyes begin to tear up hurt him to the core. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his front shirt pocket, fiddling in the pocket then producing a lighter. Tapping the pack on the heel of his palm until the stick emerged from the soft pack. Setting the cigarette resting between his dry lips, before flipping the top on the Zipo lighter. He set the pack on the desk in front of Nick, "Take one you need it", he said to the young man in a thick french accent. He grabbed a chair flipped it around and straddled the chair setting his arms on the back of the chair, taking a drag on the cigarette and exhaling the thick smoke. "So whats your plan? Cause it looks like to me you don't have much of one" he said looking at the grenades in Nicks pocket. "A desperate man without a plan is just a fool, idiot that doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. So if you are going to go through with this without a plan. I can not aide you in your own death" he took another drag off his cigarette a bit of gray ash falling of the tip. "But if you want to sit here for a min son and think about how your going to take him out I'll give you what you need. Deal?".

Renae saw his daughter finally glide back to her workshop to hide her tears. "She loves you, God don't ask me why but she does" he looked at the young broken man. "Let me tell you something, that girl is my life all that I have left of my wife, God rest her soul. I was not always the best husband or father but I did it the best way I could. But all the drugs, guns, women, or money could never replace the love I have for my wife and the pride I have for my daughter. You need to take stock of your life and decide what is more important to you, the money or revenge. Fuck it that shit doesn't mean nothing in the end, the only thing that maters is whats crying in that little workshop right now" he put out his cigarette in the ash tray. "It your life son, you have decide for yourself. But we'll back you up, if you are going after Nico I wont let you go in by yourself, for my daughter's sake cause she would follow you any way whether I or you told her not to". The old french man smiled "Viva la revolucion".

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#, as written by Seraph
"Take one you need it"

"So whats your plan? Cause it looks like to me you don't have much of one" he said looking at the grenades in Nicks pocket. "A desperate man without a plan is just a fool, idiot that doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. So if you are going to go through with this without a plan. I can not aide you in your own death" he took another drag off his cigarette a bit of gray ash falling of the tip. "But if you want to sit here for a min son and think about how your going to take him out I'll give you what you need. Deal?"

"She loves you, God don't ask me why but she does" he looked at the young broken man. "Let me tell you something, that girl is my life all that I have left of my wife, God rest her soul. I was not always the best husband or father but I did it the best way I could. But all the drugs, guns, women, or money could never replace the love I have for my wife and the pride I have for my daughter. You need to take stock of your life and decide what is more important to you, the money or revenge. Fuck it that shit doesn't mean nothing in the end, the only thing that maters is whats crying in that little workshop right now" he put out his cigarette in the ash tray. "

"It your life son, you have decide for yourself. But we'll back you up, if you are going after Nico I wont let you go in by yourself, for my daughter's sake cause she would follow you any way whether I or you told her not to". The old french man smiled "Viva la revolucion".



"You want the truth, old timer?" Nick questioned while drawing one of the Camel Wides out of the pack. Placing the cigarette between his bluish lips, they had finally started to return to their original color yet weren't quite there just yet. He took the lighter, shielded the end of the cigarette from any air current and lit it on fire. Puffing a couple time, the stick glowing bright neon orange and releasing the potent cocktail of chemicals that burned his lungs greedily.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground. Right now being one of them. I used to walk around in a daze, touching peoples lives with careless abandon. Your daughter may like me, hell, she may in fact be in love with me. But she ain't the only one. A gal I once knew for many years, waited for me to come around. For me. Now my best friend's giving it to her. All the better I suppose. Saves me the trouble of emotional baggage" He managed to get out before he exhaled a large volume of grayish blue smoke slowly as he stared out at the weapon stocks.

"I once knew two very special people; my mother and my father. One I loved, the other I respected. That man whose at the top-- that narcissistic fuck who's the king right now, he'll burn everything my father ever built with his two hands and my mother did put up with. I can't let that kind of man run Ventrue, even if I can't run Ventrue the way it needs to be ran, I won't let that prick run the show." He said pinching the filter between two fingers, taking a drag off it before flicking the still burning ashes into an open hand. Nick was so focused on what he was saying that he failed to register that it was burning him. He was slipping back into that focused state.

"That son-of-a-bitch wants a fight, I don't know any other way to fight him except for how I do things. Maybe that will eventually get me killed but not before I drag his happy smug fucking ass to Hell with me. I don't make no illusions, I'm in shoddy condition right now, hell I have been for the past few days. But some things can't wait. He'll burn everything you love and hold dear to get to me. I know, because I would do the same. I may not have not have a full proof plan, but I can't sit with my thumb up my ass for an epiphany." Nick said exhaling smoke through his nostrils slowly, he would look feral as the anger rose steadily within him once again.

"That cockroach took everything from me. " He smashed the cigarette but into the ash tray and stepped past Renae. Grabbing the handle before he left he stopped just for a brief few seconds. "He took everything I wanted from me. The least I could do is the same. Tell your daughter never to allow the blood of men to stain those hands. Those hands are meant for creating something beautiful, and one day, something perfect to her that isn't a gun. Maybe in a better life I could have been free enough to make choices that everyone liked. But for this one, well, I'll just have to make the best ones I think I can." Nick opened the door stepped out and closed it behind himself he then exited the shop entirely, and made his way to the Waldorf-Astoria.

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Renae shook his head as he watched Nick leave, "Some people just can't be told nothing ânesse muette" (dumb ass) he said shaking his head. He walked back into the work shop and just as he had suspected, "Zut" Deanna was in a corner clutching her knees to her chest tears spilling from her eyes. "He's gone isn't he", Deanna said withe a hiccup in her voice "daddy why do some men insist on getting themselves killed", she stood and pulled the the British-built L115A3 Long Range Rifle that was sitting on her work bench. She had been repairing the scope when Nick had come in, she looked through the scope and nodded to herself, "Petit! don't you even try it. He told me to tell you not to soil your hands with the blood of men", she stopped in her tracks as she went out the door of the work shop. She turned giving her father a serious look, "I wouldn't off someone for you daddy what makes you think I would do it for a stupid boy. Im just going to shoot off some rounds so I can get my head straight", she grabbed a several boxes of ammo as Renae shook his head.

Sticking the ammo in her back pack throwing it over her shoulder, as she grabbed her helmet that was sitting next to the front door. The range they had up stairs was just not equipped for her to test, the high powered sniper rifle. She pulled the keys to her Harley out of her pocket, sticking it into the ignition she soon had it it purring to life making the sound that only a Harley can emit. She straddled the bike as she strapped the helmet on her head, pushing back the kick stand with her left foot and the pushing off driving the bike away from the shop. The only place she knew that she could test the rifle properly was one of the hangers at the docks. With the gun strapped to her back, she weaved in and out of traffic in a sort of tunnel vision. Finally pulling up to the docks one of the Russian guards stopping her at the gate, "Chto vam zdesʹ, oruzhyeĭnik?"(What is your business here, gunsmith?). She looked at the guard with a hard stare, "YA dolzhen zanimatʹ odno iz vashih veshalki , chtoby proveritʹ etu vintovku", (I need to borrow one of your hangers to test out this rifle.)she said in fluent Russian as she pointed to the rifle on her back. He had seen her on many occasions for many of the same reasons. He nodded and waived her through, and she drove through.

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#, as written by Celedia
Lilianna allowed her eyes to close as Nico's lips found hers. His heady scent engulfed her sense of smell as his lips skimmed heatedly over her own, the slow and sensual yet powerful movements of his mouth clouded her mind. His hands dragged up along the sides of her hips, shifting her robe and causing the satin to fall off of her one shoulder as she lolled her head to the side. Basking in the warmth that his hands provided as they molded themselves to her body.

Jaguar... was the first thought to slink in through the haze and it brought a smile to her lips as he slipped behind her, teasing the delicate arch of her neck with a leisurely line of kisses. 'Smoldering' was only word that she could drag from the depths of her mind to sum up the effect that he had on her, the slow burning heat that he introduced to her core every time their skin touched.

As he toyed with her earlobe she shivered briefly, drawing out of her reverie when he finally released her so he could pick up his coffee for a sip. "Mm. Good." He said with a chuckle and for that brief moment she wondered which side of Nico she wanted to see more. The slow, caressing, confined Nico that had just brought this heated flush to her skin? Perhaps. Lord knows it felt good.

Or would she like to bring out the more animalistic side of Nico? The part that he kept so carefully caged for fear that he would end up too much like his brother. The very idea of letting loose seemed to intrigue him but was he even willing to let that side break free?

If nothing else, she would test his limits, she thought as she faced him and curved her hand beneath his coffee mug, dragging it carefully out of his hands and placing it onto the counter beside her own. One brow quirked upwards as she asked, "Is it? Let me see...."

Her mouth recaptured his though her intent was clearly to override his senses. To tease, to tantalize, to draw the beast out of the man. As her tongue parted his lips, caressing against his own, she purred in pleasure and took a step towards him, pressing their bodies together as if they were melding.

It was a dangerous game she was playing. What was the old phrase? If you play with fire, you're gonna get burned? She tested that theory, walking forward with just enough force to press his back against the island that stood in the center of the kitchen as her hands skimmed up his muscular chest and over his collarbone to massage briefly over the back of his neck before her fingers would thread through his hair.

Her hazel eyes held a glassy sheen as she retracted her mouth from his a mere second before her hand tugged at his still wet locks, pulling his head back and exposing his throat to her. Then Lily dragged her flattened tongue briefly across his pulse point before biting him tenderly.

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#, as written by Korrye
She was exhausted and yet there she was, sitting in her car, one hand mobile while the other was better off being used as a paper-weight. In any other situation, working as a SEAL or otherwise she would disappear for two months and recuperate. Working in this state of mind was unsafe. She could feel it, especially given her reaction to Alphonse. It was dangerous if she lost her ability to control her state of mind. If she wasn’t sane when she was doing her work, she could become careless and sloppy which would only lead to further trouble.

The mercenary dialed the number she recalled Alessandro possessing. Once upon a time she’d met the man briefly. He was a handler who was around Nick when the man needed to be watched. Nick had told her more stories about the man than she could count. Immediately she was met with a disconnected tone and an automated voice claiming that the number was no longer in service.

Cursing she slammed the phone down, bending over the steering wheel of her car to think. Exhaling deeply, she closed her eyes, feeling the deep panging throb of her broken wrist re-emerging. Her heart was loud, thundering with every beat, so much so that she could feel it jolt her as she sat there. Her shoulders rose and her chest seemed to be pushed out, her heart punching against the walls of her skin. She was relaxed in her upper body but her legs were tense, her toes curled inside of her heels.

Where would he go? Something had to have happened this morning after he had left her in his suite. Her intuition was running with the fact that each time she’d called him he hadn’t picked up. He wasn’t the type to lose his phone or leave it somewhere. Without that electronic device his team would be left sitting in place with no orders to follow unless they got there by word of mouth. It was too slow a process. The man was too modern for that.

Crunching her brow together she recalled one lowly fact. Nicodemus, he’d claimed, had blown up the family mansion just off the island. That was what had landed Nick in the hospital. That was why he was so pissed off. To top things off she’d received word from a connection in the cityworks that a death certificate had been filed and admitted. Nick no longer had his official assets, only the meager ones in alias files or offshore. He was left a broken and poor man by his own brother. Undoubtedly he would be angry.

Nicodemus, as she recalled, had always had the luxurious taste. There had only ever been one hotel for him so far as staying somewhere went and that was the Waldorf. The De Luca family owned the richest and most luxurious of suites. While Nick had had his on Madison, Nico had stuck for the more glamorous peak of the upper east side. It was a place to start, if only to ask around and get on his trail.

Putting her car into gear and pulling off of the shoulder the mercenary headed back across the bridge. Traffic, all things considered, was light. It wasn’t a peak hour as well which was a plus. Getting across was no issue. Once she hit the Upper East Side she parked her vehicle in a regular garage where she had a spot on hold. Leaving her Camaro behind she took to the streets on foot once again, only a few blocks from the prestigious hotel.

The Waldorf-Astoria was as glamorous as the movies made it out to be. The building was monolithic and Victorian in every way. It was a classically styled building that had been up kept and moderately updated while maintaining a 1960s era feel. Kennedy could have walked in and see no difference except. The people were modern but the Waldorf was chique.

As she stepped inside Vivian smooth back her head, pulling off a pair of aviators from her eyes to catch the eye of the receptionist. Stepping forward she took a quick view of the monstrous lobby looking for the man she had traveled across the world for.

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Layla after finishing her meal came out of the restaurant, and giving the waiter and the maitre d generous tips. Walking out into the lobby she sighed. She would have liked to see him once today but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen. Layla was bored to say the least, so she went back up to her room, sliding the card key in the door and opening it, before she stepped in she glanced down the hallway at Nico's door and sighed. Stepping in and letting the door close behind her. She went over and grabbed her laptop off the bed, slid the sliding door to the balcony and stepped out. Sitting on wicker lounge chair out on the patio, she turned on the computer and checked on the life she sad left behind. Which consisted of e-mails from her mother now and again when her father wasn't paying attention. It was her mothers typical prattling on about dinner parties and who's cheating on who. She loved her mother deeply but she was so clueless sometimes. She couldn't believe her mother was so naive as to not get the reason why her husband always came home late most of the time and sometimes not at all. She shook her head "I have no room to talk I'm doing the exact same thing", yeah Nico wasn't her husband so technically he could do what ever he wanted. But Layla had not been with anyone since she became the steady girl. As she sat in the chair her eyes began to feel heavy and she feel asleep in the chair.

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#, as written by Seraph
Her fragrance, although light and faint, was overwhelmingly effective at harnessing his sexual appetite. It whet his curiosity as to what lie beyond the veil of satin that draped somewhat protectively along her shoulders, covered her breasts and came down to about the mid of her sexy toned legs. The taut peaks of her breasts stood out as her clothing became ever more revealing, threatening to expose her fully. His hands had no contention when it came to revealing more of her bare naked body to his glowing eyes.


From the light of daylight, peeking in through the floor-to-ceiling blinds that overlapped in the panoramic view that the dining/ living room area held over the streets below, pierced his eyes lenses giving them a naturally dark chocolaty color with a hint of red. To Nico's right was the kitchen to his left was the open n floor plan of the living and dining areas, behind him was the bedroom door, and before him and behind Lily was the foyer then the front door with an additional spare room of to the immediate right.


One brow quirked upwards as she asked, "Is it? Let me see...."

[color=#000080]Her mouth recaptured his though her intent was clearly to override his senses. To tease, to tantalize, to draw the beast out of the man. As her tongue parted his lips, caressing against his own, she purred in pleasure and took a step towards him, pressing their bodies together as if they were melding.


Nico's left hand slipped beneath the shimmering red robe, brushing it aside. Skin felt so much better than any form or article off clothing or garment. The synthetic fibers just could not compare, and indeed they paled in their comparison to the natural inconsistencies of human flesh made, perfectly imperfect. The smallest, minute indentations he could feel as the surprisingly and supremely soft pads of Nico's fingers slid over the side of her panties, the black lace sheer fabric, the thin ornately designed garment the only half inch of real clothing between her and his Nico's lust.

She would be able to feel his fingers slip tauntingly below the fabric along the point of her hip bone, graze the tender and arguably sensitive skin that made a thin barrier over the curve of her pelvic bone--clawing all. The way. down. Until his fingers looped, curling, bending ever so slightly against her warming skin, before 'hooking' the material of her underwear with one of his fingers. This would give her a growing understanding of his dominance with her.


Her hazel eyes held a glassy sheen as she retracted her mouth from his a mere second before her hand tugged at his still wet locks, pulling his head back and exposing his throat to her. Then Lily dragged her flattened tongue briefly across his pulse point before biting him tenderly.

Nico's eyes glazed, appearing distant like he were faraway but in reality he could be closer than he was right at that minute. His eyes, once staring down and through his lashes, his eyes seemingly closed yet they weren't. Instead, they were transfixed in their pathological manic euphoric responses. His brain registered her lips brushing along his skin, causing it to feel blistered and burning to the impulses in his brain. Nicodemus' left hand slid down further along Lily's side, before firmly squeezing her right ass cheek in the palm of one of his strong hands.

Turning his head inwards, he denied her any further motions against him, taking the role of dominance once again. He quickly and roughly relieved her of her robe leaving but her panties to be dealt with. He then swiped the cups and the plate off the center island bar, sending it crashing onto the tile flooring in the kitchen. Then grabbing her posterior in both hands, he effortlessly lifted Liliana's slender, athletic built frame up and sat her on the counter like she was another dish. Slipping past her thighs that hung over the side towards him, smooth surface of his manicured fingernails glided up to the brim of her panties, slid beneath them and grip her as tightly with both hands.

If that commotion was no erotic enough, then drug his nails back down the outside of her thighs ever so slowly. The nails of his fingers nicked and bit her smooth flesh, leaving traces of themselves in the form of faint, stinging red streaks down her legs to her knees. One hand lifted, the left, slid over the supple curves of her breasts, slid over the peaks causing a stirring reaction, before she would feel the enormity of his strength as he flattened her onto her back. The action would be simple and precise. His hand firmly applying t his own strength inn a well controlled display of dominance. This wouldn't knock the breath out of her from the impact, but provoke a great sense of exhilaration from her.

The animal part of him had come out in great and lasting detail just as she was so curious to seek it.

His hand remained upon her chest, even as his head drooped nearer to her hips. She would be able to feel his excited breaths bearing down against the front of her pelvis. His head angled this way and then that; eyes scanning over the thin, black material of her underwear and then following over to one hip. Lowering his head even further, he let the slow, heated exhales from his throat creep out over where the strap hung over her hip and created a deep 'v' shape with the main body over her underwear. The air would scorch her skin causing it to redden and feel like it was burning like it was steam from scalding water. His moist lips pressed against her skin, his mouth deliberately held open as he settled them down against her body so that he could tilt his head forwards and in a devious manner, drag his teeth over the skin and along the bones of her pelvis as he leaned forwards letting her thighs encompass his muscled obliques.

Slipping her off the counter top, one arm supporting the arch of her spine and the other nestled along the back of her hips holding her firmly against himself he carried her leisurely into the bedroom where the curtains were still drawn tightly enough it was plenty dim enough. Stepping for the bed he knelt, still carrying her before he laid her down against the sheets, letting her perhaps not restless hands grip the Egyptian silk bedding for comfort before he removed his shirt remaining knelt on one knee with his other foot flat against the soft carpeted flooring. He then allowed his hands to side down, palms first, along the out side of her thighs, scratching and clawing as both hands now gripped either side of her underwear along her hips, leaving nicks and scratches there while his mouth ventured further north.

He had resisted the urge earlier to sample the true taste of her skin; he indulged himself on the offer now. His lips hungrily and headily kissed down from the slight 'dip' at the base of her throat where her clavicle began, right under her vocal cords. He then veered down, his shoulders flexing like a panther prowling along the depths of the jungle floor; each muscle individually shifting, making up entire systematic functions; pulling and drawing his build powerfully over top of her. His lips coursed their way around her breasts, kissing the outside curve of the taut yet, and pliant flesh before lowering his head placing his mouth over top of her nip dragging his tongue slowly across the peak before suckling and then releasing reluctantly.


His breath could now be felt lingering against her smooth, toned and flat belly. His own an undulate washboard, rippled and thought provoking. His teeth now tugged at the brim of her panties, teasing Lily as with his mouth. He began to back away slowly, peeling the undergarment off her body; arms flexing, displaying a vascular effect as the subtle veins along his bulging biceps and along his throat. It wasn't a disgusting effect, if anything it was erotic but before he could fully remove her underwear, his grip had tightened quickly and tore it at is seams. He then threw the now worthless garment behind his shoulder and crawled over top of her. She was his for the taking. He wanted her, now more than ever...

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#, as written by Zukuto
The ride to the warehouse was uneventful, Duncan choosing to focus on the task that lay before him than dwell on the actions of the past. He ran a mental checklist of the things he'd need to keep constantly aware of.

Step one - synchronized breach, he thought. Step two - neutralize guards and cameras. Step three - pull civilians to the far corner, away from any switches, computers, or phones. Step four - initiate heist.

He looked to his left and noticed Natalia's stern focus and concentration matching his own. He admired her for it, knowing that even after all that had happened within the last day she could maintain a level head through it all. Perhaps that's why she always won. Duncan smirked a bit to himself at the realization as they continued to the meeting.

He stepped from the car, fixing his suit and nodding to the guards at the entrance. The guards returned the gesture and pulled the huge double doors open for him, revealing the massive amounts of stocked equipment the Ventrue had at it's disposal. Duncan made his way through the massive isles of crates and vehicles to the back of the building where a large group of people stood. A few noticed the two capos arrive and quickly got everyone's attention to quiet down. Duncan walked to the middle of the group with Natalia and stood on top of an ammo crate.

"Glad to see you all here," Duncan began. "All of you have your job assignments, I assume, and have the blueprints of your respective bank memorized. I want today to go without a hitch, in and out." He looked to Natalia, seeing if she wanted to add anything.

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#, as written by Celedia
Natalia still had dozens of thoughts running through her mind as they exited the Setai, hopping in her car to ride to the warehouse and both of them maintained a comfortable silence. Knowing that Duncan was mentally prepping himself for the heist, Natalia took a moment and cleared her mind of all emotion, starting with a blank slate and by the time she exited the car and shut the door, her countenance reflected as much.

Her dark eyes traced from man to man as they entered the warehouse and she couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. Something was wrong. Yet they had as much planned as they could, never over planning. As Duncan would say, the worst thing you could do was plan too well and leave yourself no room for reaction. If shit went wrong and you had no back up plan then you would freeze in terror instead of adjusting, adapting.

Slinging her shotgun around so that it laid against her back then she shook her head at Duncan as he looked to her, silently asking if she had anything to add to his speech.

“Nope. I’m ready if you are. Better get used to feeling sorry for yourself after I win this one too…” She smirked, a quick curl of the side of her lip as she turned, escorting her team out of the back doors of the warehouse to a white service van with a fake tag. It looked like any other maintenance van in the area and even though it didn’t have an advertisement or logo on the side, it would barely capture so much as a sideways glance until her team was running back out to hop into it.

Ahhh, New York.

As the van pulled up on the side of the bank, a bit away from the entrance, Natalia removed her phone and texted Duncan- Need any help, give me a buzz. I’ll come help you clean up as soon as I’m done with mine.

A small smirk played across her lips as she slipped her phone onto silent, tucked it into one of the pockets settled low near her calf and zipped the pocket closed so it wouldn’t tumble out.

“Okay boys, let’s go!” She rallied her men as they exited the van, dispersing in different directions to take care of their individual assignments.

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#, as written by Seraph
6:00 P.M

Nick stepped slowly down the alley way between New York's City, the Barclay restaurant and the Recolte La Restaurant. Both were down East 49th and 48th respectively, and behind the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Daylight was dying slowly. Like a black cancerous growth, darkness spread throughout the streets of New York, casting dark shadows from the monolithic structures, some which had been there for nearly a hundred years or more.

Nickolai stopped shy of where the light still tried to peer down the alley way, remaining the confines and security of the dark like a natural predator. Stepping over he emptied his right pocket of the drugs he had on his person, drawing a line on a trash lid. He took the last few remaining bills he had, and rolled them into a tight tubular formation before sniffing the fine white powder.

Instantly his brain was alert, able to comprehend every little thing due to the enormous boost the narcotic cave to his sensory of perception, not just of sight but sound and touch as well. It fueled the anger in side of him causing him to kick the trash can he was using over spilling its contents and what was left of the kilo of cocaine. His heart began pumping rapidly in his chest, coursing through his veins like a self administered adrenaline rush. His pupils grew to their disproportioned sizes once again, straining his eyes and making them blood shoot and even bleed from the corners as though he were crying tears of blood.

Withdrawing his .45, he stepped hastily and without conscious desire to fend for himself against the onslaught of traffic. Cars began blaring their horns, but once they saw the drawn sidearm, began to swerve away from him and though he were a natural calamity. His shoulders abnormally hunched forwards and stiffened he made his way into the lobby. It was a spacious vestibule, with grand schemes. Keeping the side arm down along his leg, he began to head toward the elevator but he was stopped.

The door man and two security officers stood in front of him. They told him to stop but his audible reaction to someone impeding him now--was clear he was psychotic. Lifting the hand gun point blank, Nickolai didn't give the man a second warning before he squeezed the trigger. A loud blast erupted and the two elevators to the floors above were not coated in a messy blend of bone, brain matter, and blood as the .45 slug tore through the man's left eye and then proceeded with haste through the back of the man's skull.

The doorman fell to the floor immediately and the security officers backed away immediately, but it was too late for them as well. Firing two shots, one for either of them, Nick planted a bullet in ones heart and the others lung before he stepped over their crumpled bodies, stepped into the elevator and then pressed the button for the 47th floor. Looking up, He saw Vivian just as the doors closed but the look in his eyes as they shut told her that he didn't really recognize anything anymore. Just Nicodemus.

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Nicodemus lie with Lily in the king sized sleigh bed. The mahogany platform was based on a classic French Lit Bateau design. Contemporary in proportion and detailing, it had upholstered decks for use with a mattress only. Solid Mahogany construction and a dramatic flame mahogany veneer panel made the bed the centerpiece of any bedroom. Hand applied multi-layered medium mahogany finish accentuated the natural grain and depth of the solid Mahogany. An excellent choice for extra thick mattresses, which they lay on.

Nico watched Lily sleep peacefully as he answered the phone. It was Al. He had gotten a call about a bank heist that had went off. Apparently at Liliana's father's bank. It was interesting. Nick had never been the one for bank robberies. His crew had to have a hand in this and Nico knew that Lily's own cousin Duncan was on Nick's side. He flipped the cell closed and put his pants on, the black slacks he had on earlier were taken off at Lily's own request.

"Lily, darling, we need to go down to your father's bank. Its been robbed." Nico said nonchalantly. He stood as Lily stirred from her sleep and sat up blinking tiredly and drowsily at the clock on the wall.

Nico slid his shirt over his muscled shoulders and began to button them up obscuring her view of his abs and chest. He stepped out of the room, and paused. He had a strange feeling. Like an instinctual reaction an animal would have it felt danger were near or a storm were approaching. Forgetting to button his shirt the rest of the way, he lowered his arms and began to walk towards the front door.

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The elevator opened its blood splattered door, and Nickolai was ready for what awaited him. His pistol tucked into the brim of his pants, the handle jutting out over his toned core. His head was bowed and his hands behind his back. When the door opened the hallway aligned with men looked in his direction, his fingers plucked the pins from both grenades simultaneously as he chucked them in a criss-cross manner bouncing them off the walls of the corridor. He then leapt up, grabbing the escape hatch back handedly and shot his legs straight through landing onto of the elevator.

The M67 had a 4 second fuse that ignited explosives packed inside a round body. Steel fragments were provided by the grenade's steel body and typically produced a casualty radius of 15 meters, with a fatality radius of 5 meters, though some fragments can disperse as far out as 250 meters. The body guards were perhaps no where near that distance, being only a few feet apart when the military issued grenade went off and rocked the floor causing the lights to flickre and dim. The door to Nico's apartment blew inwards splintering with the amount of explosive force produced by the blast that sent three men plummeting to their deaths if they weren't dead already. Stepping down the hall calmly, an inferno eating away that door frame and licking the air ferociously with Nico looking expectantly towards his brother's destructive nature.

Nick shot any and all survivors. Putting a coup de grâce between their eyes with out ever looking down at them as he marched towards his brother homestead. Wrapping one hand around the door the burning door frame. Scorch marks had already turned the wood black and as the eat rose, it turned the room into a literal hell. Nickolai stepped into the room, the door frame crumbling to ruins behind him. In one hand he he held the gun he'd reserved to only one he could kill his brother with. No other weapon made more sense, because his father had given them each a similar firearm. A gift on being brought into Ventrue. They had to work from the bottom up like everyone else. Nick's thumb went to the hammer as he held it down and to the side, cocking it slowly back.

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Nicodemus watched as his front door was blown off the hinges, disintegrating right before his very eyes. Yet, the top half held cohesively together and was flung backwards, narrowly missing Nicodemus as he lifted one hand to shield him from the rippling effects of a sudden gust of air pouring in. The remnants of the door slammed into the piano. Nicodemus watched the burning door way, and when his brother appeared like a demon stepping out of a portal to hell--he couldn't deny the fear that briefly persuaded him to back away. The way his brother's emotionless eyes caught the flames, they burned with passion. A passion that he could never have had.

Nicodemus remained quiet, yet took notice of his brother's hand blatantly cocking the hammer on hos Colt.45. His eyes were crazed. Bleeding as they strained, welling up with blood and tears that washed down his face in a torrent. It made him physically sick to see his brother's outrage. To see this shadow of a man would be daring enough to shoot his way in a hotel and come face to face with his brother, and now he was crying? He watched Nick's feet while staring him dead in the eyes.

When Nick stepped forwards, aiming with his right hand Nico spun to his left and back planting his solid back against his brother's fractured ribs. The momentum was enough to cause Nick's body to react and bend slightly forwards. Gripping his brother's wrist while his arm coiled over Nick's like a boa constrictor. He slammed Nick's wrist repeatedly against the granite corner of the island. The gun released from Nick's hands begrudgingly and cascaded over the other side. Nick however, then wrapped his muscular arms around Nico's waist and charged.

"I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands!" Nickolai screamed.

Like a football line backer, or better yet, a fright train motion Nick's immediate reaction knocked the air right out of Nico's chest. Carrying him all the way to the wall--Nico's body folded like a lawn chair upon impact. Nicodemus went crashing through studs and braces, he went through marble tile and rolled onto his feet and then onto his back laying there soaked and now blood running down the side of his face from where nail's, screws, bolts and pins snapped and clawed at his face.

Nickolai unable to tear through the wall as he had been trying, then marched around and headed through Nico's bedroom. However, as he got to the bathroom Nick's head was physically seen to be jarred. The solid sound of wood cracking as it met an equally dense substance, namely Nick's forehead. Spinning around out of reaction Nick stumbled back through the bedroom and Nico stalked after him his shirt in tatters and blood leaking from several gashes. In his hand was part of the sink. A heavy wooden oak leg that he tore off the side corner of the sink.

"You want to kill me Nick? Do you?" He kicked Nickolai's sides roughly causing the man to scream in agony. Even the cocaine and adrenaline couldn't mask the severity of it. He then leaned over top of his brother. "You wanna kill me?!" Nico's accent began to flare up as he dispensed with his calm nature and gave into his darker side. He then took the wooden leg of the sink in both hands and struck the side of Nick's face with enough force that the sturdy square end snapped off and Nick's mouth spewed blood in copious amounts in an arch as his head was snapped to the side.

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Nick rolled over onto his chest and pushed himself up shakily, unlatching his belt as he rose into a knelt position. But just as he had, another blow from the heavy blunt weapon Nico was using sent him sprawling forwards and gasping for breath as he landed roughly on his chest compressing already injured ribs against his spine. He army crawled, struggling as he was beaten each inch he gained by his brother.

Finally, Nick flipped over brought his knees to his chest and just as Nico had decided to strike--sprung both legs out driving them into his brother's abdominal region. Using the momentum to roll backwards onto the balls of his feet he tugged his belt out of the loops of his pants, the leather cracking like a whip. Remaining knelt as his eyes watched Nico slam into the wall and knock several things off the wall. Once his brother straightened his posture and threw back the weapon Nick knew that was his chance to react.

Charging Nico, he avoided the downward swing, maneuvering to Nico's left and slipping the belt buckle up and around Nico's throat. He quickly fixated himself behind Nico, gripping either end of the belt that was now coiled around his brother's throat. Nick's arms bulged readily, pushing veins outward as the muscular mass of his body exposed itself. So strong was Nick, that as his arms drew back, Nico's body was lifted into the air. He wasn't just trying to strangle his brother, he was trying to break his neck.

Veins along Nick s badly bruised temple, bulged from the duress and his eyes seemed like they were intensely focused on his now squirming brother. His heart rapidly beat in his chest, convulsion after convulsion. He then felt an immensely painful sensation pierce his left side. Dropping Nico and falling to his hand and knees Nico had stabbed Nick with the nails and staples on the leg to make him let go. Ripping it out Nick stood falteringly, clinging to the wall.

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Nicodemus coughed having fallen to one knee. He then expressed contempt of his brother's pain before raising quickly and throwing him into the dining area. Nicodemus threw the table aside and many of the chairs leaving a wide open space in front of the windows that over looked the streets. He then marched into his bedroom, ignoring the plight of Lily for now and ripping the nightstand drawer out and recovering his own .45. Marching back into the living room Nick was standing up.

"You better hope that you kill me this time. Otherwise I'll keep coming after you for dad's murder." Nick panted and heaved.

"Is that so? Well, I suppose since if the bullet won't kill you, the fall will--that I should tell you, it wasn't only our father I killed. Oh no. I killed everyone that would or could stop my progress. I had to do it very carefully. I injected mother with cancer cells and watched them breed so rapidly in her. The chemo, I thought would help but it didn't. It killed her. I killed her. Because that's what Ventrue is all about. Being on top Nickolas. If you can't pull the trigger on those whom are closest to you, then you aren't fit to be a king. Because it is those closet...that try to kill you." Nicodemus responded calmly, though he was heavily breathing as he lifted the gun.

Nickolai's eyes widened as his mind had been opened to his brother's far reaching plans. He was hardly able to breathe now. His mother and his father had been executed by their own son. Tears of pain, tears of anger that burned his cheeks as they coursed down over them. Placing one hand on the pane of glass as he was bent over but still standing with an arm tucked against his sides.

"You're gonna pay for that...I'm gonna send you to hell.." Nick lunged for Nico.

"You first brother." He sneered as he pulled the trigger, issuing a loud and resound crack. The glass behind neck who was now standing half way in the room, showed a bullet hole and had fractured the glass. Nick stopped and looked down at his right side which swelled with blood before he stumbled back, clutching the bullet wound. A pained expression fell over his face as he fell back through the glass and out into the city. Falling. Falling. Falling...a loud impact as he hit several things on the way down before he landed on top of the overhead roof that jutted from the lobby's entrance.

Stepping to the window, he looked down at Nickolai, and a police officer that he didn't know was Al. Nick wasn't moving.

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#, as written by Korrye
It didn’t take long for chaos to erupt. Vivian had managed to stand in the lobby of the Waldorf for twenty minutes, scrolling through numbers and placing calls to various men she recalled as being loyal to Nick. The man working the front desk that night hadn’t the slightest clue who Nick was. Vivian didn’t blame him. He was maybe twenty-six and studying a year abroad at NYU. The French native was far from in touch with the American mafia. What she felt was a slight guilt for him. The man had picked a horrific shift to work.

She was in the middle of a call to her connections upstate in the cityworks, trying to get an avid description from one of the men auditing Nick’s affairs to get her head around just how much Nico had taken from him. The accountant was an old friend, not loyal to either side but a man caught in the crossfire. Once upon a time he’d known her father and had learned from his friend’s death not to meddle. He was Switzerland that night and was doing what he had been told to do, which meant investigating Nick’s assets and doing his best to seize even the offshore accounts.

Mid-phrase she turned to see a hell-blazen Nickolas march through the doors and into the lobby. His state of mind was farther gone than her own. His eyes were strained, so much so that she doubted he was seeing properly. He’d done enough drugs to turn his lips blue, a thin trail of blood leaking from his nose. As he approached she ended her call, sliding her hand across the screen of her iPhone to hang up. Sliding the phone back into her pocket she tried approaching him but knew immediately it wasn’t her place.

Up close Nickolas looked far worse. Aside from his own injuries he looked like he’d run into a brick wall. His clothes were disheveled, as was his hair. His skin looked flushed and red, where it wasn’t he was sickly looking pale and veiny. In stance he looked the part of a near cripple, hunched over with his shoulders tight to his ears. His mouth was in a dead set line and every so often his lip would twitch as if some angry thought had returned to his mind. His hands were hidden and immediately she was worried. Vivian knew exactly where he was headed but going with him wasn’t an option, especially when he was acting on his own insanity and not of a clear mind.

The moment he met the elevators, Nico’s opposition materialized. Withdrawing a gun from his waistband Nick took no time making quick work of two guards. As the shots ran out panic ensued. The fifty or so people in the lobby immediately screamed and flailed, some dropping to the ground while most others ran for the doors. Nick stepped into the elevator amidst his bloody mess, punching the button he needed. The moment the doors closed Vivian got to moving.

The mercenary wanted no unnecessary casualties to ensue, especially if guests found their way into Nick’s path. He was in an unwarranted state of drug-induced rage. No person who stepped in his way would see the morning sun. Vivian’s conscience was starting to bicker at her, especially for thinking that working for this man was the right decision. But her loyalty stood. He was in the building, she wasn’t going to stop him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help the people who needed it while Nick carried out what he thought he wanted.

Vivian found the closest fire alarm and planted herself next to the wall by it as the crowds rushed through to the main doors. Immediately a buzzer was sounded by the front desk. Like any bank they possessed an immediate link to the police and fire department. The noise was soon accompanied by a high-pitched shrieking signaling that all guests should evacuate. Vivian yanked the emergency fire alarm on the wall to do so before ploughing her way to the stairs. With the fire alarm started the elevators wouldn’t be moving. She knew she’d waited long enough for Nick to reach his destination.

Getting into the stairwell she took a side exit onto the side of the street, rushing out into the front area of the hotel and holding the doors open as people poured out in a panic. Some of them were even half dressed. Women ran out in suits or formal attire, members of a conference no doubt. Five hours who ran by her were in nightgowns and towel robes from the rooms, obviously caught in the middle of a little something-something but smart enough to run. The spa emptied out onto the side of the building. The immediate alleyway filled. People began to pile onto the street. The front windows by the penthouse lobby blew sending glass out onto the street into a shower. Flames licked out the windows, initiated by grenades. Vivian felt her heart racing with fear. Here she was again in the middle of a public escapade.

Within five minutes a police car arrived and the building was an empty as it could be. A blast and a well timed shot echoed from the suite once more but this time the glass that rained down on them was joined by the body of a man. Vivian gasped and stepped back to see, finding her shoulders grasped by an unidentified police officer. The body twisted midair and slapped into a balcony and several extended porch covers. The soft fabric sent him flying, breaking his fall ever so slightly. The crowd screamed as he came closer and closer. As the colors of his clothes became apparent Vivian realized that it was Nick who was the one plummeting.

A prick into her arm made her head turn. Immediately her knees buckled and she inhaled sharply. Her muscles constricted before slackening completely. Rolling her head back into the chest of the man she recognized the telltale bruising on his jaw. “Al?” she murmured, her voice slurring and his name coming out garbled. Confusion hit her hard. How was he standing behind her in a police uniform? Vivian’s body was being held up by him, his arms tucking themselves under her armpits and around her chest. Vivian blinked rapidly fighting to remain conscious. As bystanders asked what happened the man told them she’d fainted, that he would bring her to a hospital, he thought she’d hit her head. Lies. It was all lies. Swallowing hard she closed her eyes feeling her body drag a little across the ground. Then it all went dark.

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Layla heard screams erupt from the street bellow, she stood up from her seat on the patio and looked over the railing to the street. People were running out of the lobby, “Oh no Nico”, she breathed out in frightened tone of voice. She ran back into the suite all she could think about right now was getting to the man she loved before his brother did. When she heard to the fire alarm go off she knew that the bad feeling she had been having for the past 24 hours was coming to fruition. As she ran to the door she felt as though the world was going in slow motion and she couldn't make it the door fast enough. The closer she got to turning the knob the further away the door seemed. Finally after what seemed like hours to Layla she opened the door, and ran out into the hallway. The alarms were blaring, lights flashing, people running for their lives. Then she saw Nick come off the elevator, “No..” she gasped, he looked like pure evil incarnate the devil himself stood before her. Eyes bleeding, a maniacal look in his eyes, he looked like something out of a horror movie the kind where everyone died. Layla almost shrank back, but she couldn't not when it came to the fact that she knew why Nick was here and she knew he would do it.

She dared not get in front of Nick she knew that he would kill her too without a second thought. She saw him pull the spherical object from his person. And out of pure instinct and adrenalin she ducked back into her own bedroom. There was loud deafening explosion and Layla eyes grew wide and she screamed and covered her head and ears. Tears streaming down her face she could feel her body quake in fear. “Get up dammit!, Get up! Don't just sit here like a child fuck!”, as much as she yelled at herself , she was frozen in place with fear. “I love him why can't I move, dammit!”,she finally got the courage to will her body to move, crawling on her hands and knees out into the hallway once again.

"I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands!"

She heard Nick scream

"You want to kill me Nick? Do you?"

Layla could hear the bludgeoning reverberating through the hall way she winced with each blow. Tears streaming down her face as she crawled down the hallway.

"You wanna kill me?!" Nico's accent began to flare up as he dispensed with his calm nature and gave into his darker side.

Layla froze she had never heard that guttural tone come from Nico. He sounded so cruel and evil, no not her Nico. She finally got the courage to stand she walked and stood in the remnants that was the door to Nico's room.

"You better hope that you kill me this time. Otherwise I'll keep coming after you for dad's murder." Nick panted and heaved.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing standing there in a state of shock breathing heavy, quickening with every word spoke between the two brothers.

Is that so? Well, I suppose since if the bullet won't kill you, the fall will--that I should tell you, it wasn't only our father I killed. Oh no. I killed everyone that would or could stop my progress. I had to do it very carefully. I injected mother with cancer cells and watched them breed so rapidly in her. The chemo, I thought would help but it didn't. It killed her. I killed her. Because that's what Ventrue is all about. Being on top Nickolas. If you can't pull the trigger on those whom are closest to you, then you aren't fit to be a king. Because it is those closet...that try to kill you."

Nickolai's eyes widened.... Tears of pain, tears of anger that burned his cheeks as they coursed down over them. Placing one hand on the pane of glass as he was bent over but still standing with an arm tucked against his sides.

"You're gonna pay for that...I'm gonna send you to hell.." Nick lunged for Nico.


"You first brother." He sneered as he pulled the trigger, issuing a loud and resound crack. The glass behind neck who was now standing half way in the room, showed a bullet hole and had fractured the glass. Nick stopped and looked down at his right side which swelled with blood before he stumbled back, clutching the bullet wound. A pained expression fell over his face as he fell back through the glass and out into the city. Falling. Falling. Falling...

“Nicodemus”, she breathed out tears pouring from her eyes, was he truly so cruel, so evil she had heard every word. Layla shook her head in disbelief.

“If you can't pull the trigger on those whom are closest to you, then you aren't fit to be a king. Because it is those closet...that try to kill you"

The words swirled around in her head like a hive of wasps stirred up, and stinging. She couldn't believe that this man standing before her looking down at his fallen brother,the man she loved with every piece of her heart was so evil. “Do you really feel that way Nico, do you truly believe that I would be so evil and cruel to try to kill the man I love with every fiber of my being”, she began to hyperventilate. And the she collapsed into a ball of humanity on the floor.

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#, as written by Celedia
Having slipped into slumber, utterly exhausted, Lilianna was roused once more by Nico’s voice penetrating the silence.

"Lily, darling, we need to go down to your father's bank. Its been robbed."

That momentary confusion that accompanied a person’s comprehension upon first waking was evident upon her features. That span of a few seconds when the conscious mind recalibrates details such as time, location, and the other necessary details. So she lifted her head, peering through her fallen tresses to read the clock. It was 6pm, already? Shaking her head, she pushed her hair from her face as she sat up, letting the sheet fall against the bed as his words finally infiltrated her thoughts.

The bank heist.

Surprise flickered briefly across her face but not because she had not known about the heist. It was simply because she had forgotten about it. So much had happened in the past 24 hours that she had let it slip her mind.

Papa…. Her first concern sprung to her mind but before she could part her lips to ask Nico if anyone had been hurt during the robbery, he began buttoning his shirt as he strolled out of the door back into the kitchen area.

Does he know that I knew about the heist before hand? That I didn’t warn him? Her heart sank briefly as she stood up and walked to the closet for a simple yet elegant dress. Mere seconds after she her zipped the back of it she heard an explosion and the floor shook beneath her feet as the lights flickered, then went out completely for a few seconds before coming back on.

Nico…

Her bare feet moved quickly along the floor as she hurried from the bedroom and spun the corner only to see what she could have described as Lucifer himself descending upon the suite with gun in hand.

With widened, frightened hazel eyes, Lily watched the scene play out before her and she didn’t move. Fear gripped her and for perhaps the first time in her life she felt like prey instead of predator. Afraid that if she were to move, Nico’s brother would turn his attention and she would end up like so many of the guards that she saw through the burning doorway, lying dead upon the ground.

She watched as Nico disarmed Nick and exhaled a soft sigh of relief, believing that Nico had gained the upper hand but then Nick turned the tables, wrapping his muscular arms around Nico and charged him forward.

Scared, for both herself and for Nico, Lily turned and ran back into the bedroom, snatching her phone from the bedside table where it had been left to charge. Ripping it from its base, she punched in her first speed dial which was now programmed to Alphonso, her new bodyguard. It rang….and rang and rang and after it popped over to voicemail, she cursed vehemently and left him a rather biting message.

“Per qualcuno che presta attenzione ai dettagli come si fa, non sono dove si sono necessarie oggi.” (For someone that pays as much attention to detail as you do, you are not where you are needed today.)

Hanging up the phone, she punched in the number for the next highest ranking member that she knew and unlike the first call that she made, this man picked up on the second ring.

“Buona sera, Lilianna. Cosa posso fare per te?” (Good evening, Lilianna. What can I do for you?) The deep voice on the other end of the line said, his tone liquid-smooth.

“Salvatore... Nico ha bisogno di te. Vieni al Waldorf, Penthouse.” (Nico needs you. Come to the Waldorf, Penthouse.)

Lily jumped in surprise as a figure marched into the room but she relaxed only when she saw it was Nico coming to retrieve his own firearm. Then into the phone, she hurried the man, “Ora! (Now!)” and hung up the phone once more, tossing it onto the bed behind her as she rushed out after Nico.

What happened then was like a scene out of a movie. The brothers sparred, both verbally and physically. Nico revealed having a hand in the death of both of his parents. Layla came into the room, standing there with a shocked expression that probably mirrored Lilianna’s own countenance. Obviously, neither of the ladies expected Nico to be so... callous, so cruel. Nico shot his own brother and Nick fell backwards, crashing through the glass window as he plummeted to the ground below. Nico walked forward, apparently looking out to make sure that he had finally succeeded in killing his brother.

“Do you really feel that way Nico, do you truly believe that I would be so evil and cruel to try to kill the man I love with every fiber of my being” Layla collapsed to the floor, hyperventilating and Lilianna raised her own eyes to stare at Nico’s back with an unreadable expression upon her face as she waited to see how he would answer Layla’s question.

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Natalia had slipped in to one of three awaiting getaway cars with two of her men sitting in the seat behind her and the driver. They had been successful but for some reason the police response hadn’t been as heavy as she had expected. Even with two banks being hit at once the resistance to get out of the bank should’ve taken a bit more skill to avoid but instead they had experienced almost no opposition.

This was too much of a coincidence to ignore.

“Take us to Gino’s first. I have a bad feeling about this…” she told the driver and he nodded before changing course to the closer destination. Whipping out her phone, she texted Duncan first, wondering if maybe his heist had the larger police response and perhaps that was why hers had been so light.

I think it’s 5-4 now in my favor. We’re done. Only about ½ mill taken though. Need me to ride to your rescue?

She flipped the ring tone back to vibration so that she would know when he responded and she watched the NYC streets stream passed her window.

When they arrived at Gino’s, she climbed out first and was greeted at the door by an anxious looking Sgarrista.

“Ahhh, shit. Natalia, you might wanna see this.” He said, turning without waiting for her response and she arched a brow but followed the man into the living room where a 42-inch TV was hung upon the wall over the fireplace and about a half a dozen men were crowded around it with wide eyes.

“What in the hell is going on?” Natalia asked, letting her honey brown gaze settle upon whatever they were watching and she caught the tail end of a news report.

”Several are dead and many more are wounded as an unknown assailant attacked the Waldorf-Astoria today after 6pm. No comment has been issued by the police department as of yet, except to say that the wounded, such as the man seen here….

The television cut to a picture of a figure falling from the upper levels of the Waldorf and the cameraman zoomed in. The room let out a collective gasp as they recognized the falling figure.

It was Nick.

Have been taken to Lenox Hill Hospital on East 77th Street. Most of the injured taken to the facility are listed in stable condition and the man in the previous clip is listed in critical condition. No word on their identities yet since the police would like a chance to contact the victims’ families.

The men began chattering rapidly either around or at Natalia but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were widened and her breath was becoming more rapid as panic settled into her chest. Goddamn idiot, stupid man…. she raged at him in her head, forcing her tears back and as someone approached her side, she allowed her anger and fear to be focused on him instead.

“Call the goddamn hospital, now! See where he is and what his real condition is. Get our Doc over there. He knows Nick, he knows what to do for Nick. He….”

She trailed off, her thoughts fading as the TV once more went onto another story about the Waldorf incident and the newscasters repeatedly played Nick’s fall to the masses. That height and he was already injured? God damn stubborn Nick. If he died on her she would…. What? Bring him back to life to kick his ass? That didn’t seem logical but then again, nothing seemed logical at the moment. Why hadn’t he asked for their help if he was going to storm the castle, so to speak? Even with her broken heart she would have done damn near anything for the man. All he had to do was ask.

“Uhhhh, Nat?” A semi-hesitant voice broke her concentration and she looked over at him with darkened eyes.

“What?!”

“Ahhhh, ummmm. They uh, they say at the hospital that they don’t have a man matching Nick’s description. Said the rest were brought in but he wasn’t with them.”

Natalia tried not to roll her eyes as she said, “Well then call around to…”

The man interrupted her, his eyes wide with fright as he held up his hands to calm her down. “I did! I called around. No local hospitals have him. Our Doc at Clearview doesn’t have him. We called our connection to the cops and he says witnesses report a police officer taking both Nick and a lady away. Said he was going to the hospital but Nat…. If he did, we can’t find him and our cop says none of their officers took in a man with Nick's description or any chicks.”

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#, as written by Zukuto
As the last lock was drilled through the large vault door cracked open. Inside sat saftey deposit boxes of varying wealth and many different types of precious metals in crates but the real prize was in the large room in the back. The door to the room looked recently made, not intended for the room, a new addition. This is where Nico's money was.

Duncan shot the hinges so the door fell backward. Inside sat sacks of money. "Alright boys, make it quick."

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Duncan threw the last sack of cash to one of his men and exited the vault. They moved as a unit through the building, checking their sides and corners before reentering the main room where the few employees at that time of day and guards they hadn't killed sat under close watch of Duncan's group.

"That's the last of them," Duncan said to the group. "Get out and back to the 'place' as soon as possible." The men answered in short affirmatives before running outside and to the getaway cars. Duncan felt his pocket vibrate as he stepped outside.

I think it’s 5-4 now in my favor. We’re done. Only about ½ mill taken though. Need me to ride to your rescue?

Duncan smirked beneath his black mask and opened his phone. You win this round, but let it be known we took a mil and a half. I think that makes up for the time difference. See ya back at the warehouse. He jumped into the lead getaway car as he pocketed his phone and they sped off down the street.

"Well done," Duncan said. "Cops must me shitting their pants right about now. Two banks in the same day, I'd call that a success." The other men in the car laughed and cheered as they continued to drive away from the bank, taking back alleys and roads not normally traveled to get back to the warehouse without being seen. Duncan's pocket vibrated again and when he retrieved his phone it was a call from one of Natalia's men. He flicked open the phone and held it to his ear.

"What's going on, Peter?"

The mans voice was hesitant as he spoke. "Uh, boss, Nick's in some trouble..."

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#, as written by Seraph
Nickolai felt the bullet penetrate his chest cavity; burrowing past flesh and tearing through muscle. Nickolai felt his legs give way causing him to stumble backwards hoping to catch himself before he fell completely. His back struck the double paned glass. Glass that had a bullet hole through its pure facade like he did. His shoulder met with the fractured window, his body weight collapsing in upon the weakened structure.

What he had intended to do, was fall to the floor and then pick himself back up. However, the the floor seem to slip out from under him and there was no way to go but out as he spun slightly with the force the bullet had projected onto him. It wasn't like they showed in the movies, he didn't go flying backwards but the impact did affect his own momentum. His eyes caught the sight of his reflection before his face slammed into the double-wide pane.

The eyes that stared back him were ones of questioning. How the hell could this have happened? His face went through the window as every thing slowed to a crawl. The shattering glass like remnants of the night sky; diamonds every where, glinting and sparkling. They almost seemed to have their own sun behind each of them as he swam through a sea of fragmented serrated shards.

Initially, he fell with his face towards the ground. His eyes gazing down at the mass of people. Had they come to see him? To see him fall? As blood passed over his fingers as it surly did his lips, the bitter taste of iron saturated ever single taste bud on his tongue he closed his eyes. Using the last bit of strength in him, he turned his body to fall fat on his back.

With his face skywards, his tousled brown hair feeling like it were barely waving though he knew surely he had to be moving faster than what it seemed. Nickolai opened his eyes, staring up in time to see his brother lean out and watch him plummet presumably to his death. Nickolai could not hold back the onslaught of questions within his own heart.

He couldn't bring himself to reach out for his brother as he fell, much less scream or even whisper. His body fell endlessly. He asked himself many times, why he accepted this lifestyle. Why he went down this road. He could not think of an answer to give his mind the solace it so desperately needed. In the back of his mind, his life played out like a movie on a big silver screen.

Reoccurring nightmares, far away dreams. Peaceful times. Happy times. He even for some reason, recall a time when he and his brother were inseparable. Back before he fell into abusing drugs, and his many sexual encounters. Back when they were children. It was a time wen the innocence was to be taken from them. As the older brother, Nick felt it was his duty to shield Nico from the truth. Back then, he never wanted this life for his brother. He never wanted Nico to know what it was to stain and sully his hands in the blood of men.

Where had he gone so wrong? Maybe it was when he began testing his father's patience with him. Nick always had an ego their father never liked. That can do attitude he had said to him, would cost him more than his own life in the business. "Your actions speak for everyone," he castigated," not just you."

Nickolai sat quietly in the empty auditorium inside his mind. His eyes glazed over as they fell from the screen replay events in his life in black and white like it were and old time movie. The screen began to bleed through, bright vermilion holes burning through the pictures faces and slowly engulfing the whole screen. Maybe he didn't have what it took to run Ventrue. Maybe he never did. Maybe his brother was right.

Looking back up, the room a blazing inferno around his subconscious. The last images on his reeling thoughts were Nick at age 5 and Nico at age 4. Nick was leading his brother around outside their home by the hand. The reel then went blank.

Nick landed with sudden impact, the force was such that he 'bounced'. But his arms had managed to protect his brain case for he most part. He had collided with the Waldorf's outward extending entry way roof. He lie motionless on his back. His legs broken, his arms broken. Blood was pooling out around him and descending to the edges of the roof and dripping.

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“Nicodemus”, she breathed out tears pouring from her eyes, was he truly so cruel, so evil she had heard every word. Layla shook her head in disbelief.

“If you can't pull the trigger on those whom are closest to you, then you aren't fit to be a king. Because it is those closet...that try to kill you"

The words swirled around in her head like a hive of wasps stirred up, and stinging. She couldn't believe that this man standing before her looking down at his fallen brother,the man she loved with every piece of her heart was so evil. “Do you really feel that way Nico, do you truly believe that I would be so evil and cruel to try to kill the man I love with every fiber of my being”, she began to hyperventilate. And the she collapsed into a ball of humanity on the floor.

Nicodemus stood at the broken double pane, looking out over the edge. His eyes bearing witness to his brother's demise but coldly he would turn away. Still holding his sidearm out to the side, he pushed the small lever into 'safety' mode and then tucked the handgun into the brim of his pants, letting it rest against his well muscled and now sweaty stomach. He tore the sleeves off his dress shirt, wearing it more like vest or a tank top since it was ruined anyways.

Stepping over to a collapsed Layla, he only paused briefly.

"Perhaps, you forget your place," He spoke in a chillingly calloused manner while standing over her. " I don't need to trust you, that is not your job.It is not your job to be trusted. But if it makes you feel any better, if it makes you sleep better at night--then go," He lifted an arm out and pointed down the still burning hallway towards the stairwell. "I release you, go find someone who trusts you."

Lowering his arm, he stepped back in his apartment and marched past Lilianna his face holding great contempt. He went back into his ruined room, retrieved a pair of black dress sock and put them on before slipping his dress shoes on. He tore at the ruined dress shirt he threw it on and quickly buttoned it and tucked it too beneath the brim of his pants.

Emerging from his bedroom, the apart destroyed with the flames spreading slowly due to the air venting oxygen the the ravishing flames that burned the walls threatening the occupants. Yet, Nico was calm and collected as he opened the rooms refrigerator and with drew a bottle of whiskey and pulled himself a small 6 ounce glass. Downing the glass with one gulp he set the glass down. Something in that moment changed about Nico. His presence would seem to negate the flames as he stood facing away from Lilliana at first.

Turning, her eyes would see the remarkable coldness that he was so known for. He stepped out from around the island and stopped momentarily.

"You're released as well, miss Sisieti. You had better hope that I don't catch that cousin of yours, and that your father knew absolutely nothing about the bank robbery. You'll be two less family members." He stared her directly in the eyes with out blinking. Not a smile on his lips, but the look of a serpent about ready to strike. "I really should take care of you now, let that bastard of a cousin see you plummet and let him come and try something. But, I think I'll let you go, for now." He nonchalantly pivoted, stepping through the flames themselves leaving both Layla and Liliana alone in the room.

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ACT 2


After Nickolai fell from Nico's suite, Nico reigned supreme and unchallenged at first. The city was in the palm of his hand. He ruled with an iron fist. Anyone caught, suspected of treachery, larceny or lying about the attacks or the bank heist was either arrested...or killed. He became, like all leaders typically do, suspecting of his employees. Skip ahead a few months, and New York was getting torched almost nightly. The grand city would see its greatest amount of arson in its history--or at least that's what we told the public. What was really happening was the Russians had begun to make their move. Their ships docked and their people now integrated into the masses and complicatedly so. But in the midst of this, Nick and Vivian were in the custody of an MJ12 Overlord named Alphonse.

Time: Unknown
Location: Unknown

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Only once before in her life had she been successfully grabbed and detained. That had been by the military officials wishing to move her from the SEALS and into formal black ops, professionals who have common decency. They’d drugged her and dressed her in the same outfit any Guantanamo prisoner could have be seen wearing; an orange jump suit, noise cancelling headphones, blacked out googles and full wrist and ankle shackles. When she’d come to she’d been of a clear mind, given a thick dose of sodium pentothal and forced to confess her thoughts and stand on military operations. She’d passed their tests and signed the paperwork within an hour of being in that confinement. From there she’d been passed through a rigorous set of training regimes and gone on to work for them as a government contract killer. It was a clear cut procedure, hard on the body but doable.

Now here she was, woozy and fighting consciousness in a holding cell straight out of a Saw movie. Vivian’s senses were on complete overload. Her vision blurred viewing bright flashes of colored light. It felt like lightning kept striking in front of her. The effect of it made her wince. Her mouth was dry, the remnants of bile resting under her tongue. She could feel that her lips were swollen and dry, cracked in places. She hadn’t been beaten but she felt like her body had experienced a round of unnecessary chemotherapy; her insides felt black and bitter.

It was her hearing that was the worst. She couldn’t see and though she could smell a cocktail of things her ears were by far the most sensitive. When the sack was yanked off her head she tossed her hair back, or more so tried to, only to find her body was firmly locked into place. Her right wrist immediately rang out a series of violent and painful pangs. As the blood had trouble reaching her hands, given that they were stretched over her head, the bone seemed to ache more instead of growing numb.

As she inhaled a deep breath she felt her stomach turn again. Before she could do anything she was trying to kick her legs up to support her stomach. She heaved, her diaphragm flexing sharply. The pain that racked her ribs let her know that she’d been doing it for awhile. There was barely anything in her to throw up now. A thin filmy and yellow bile sputtered from her lips. It slapped the walls and ground in front of her, missing the man who’d obliged to free her sight. Her stomach quivered, the muscles tensing for longer than was needed only adding to the pain. Vivian wheezed for breath, inhaling deeply and whistling a she did so.

Vivian moaned, jerking violently on the restraints on her legs. Her knees were locked straight, her feet planted more firmly into steel restraints. Her head was unable to move and her neck felt like it had been rubbed raw by whatever had her pinned. In front of her a rusted cart kept a flatscreen TV at her eye level. She eyed it, watching wearily. The outline of a man she knew to be Al stood behind it, the devil himself.

"I hope you enjoy the show. You should, cause you've brought this on yourself...and him,” he stated, his voice cold. This wasn’t the teasing man who’d chased her through the city. This was the government’s puppet in action, working on orders and completing them without so much as an once of guilt.

Vivian couldn’t manage to speak. He had her so weak. Her stomach turned again and she couldn’t help but cry out as she felt her diaphragm muscles constrict without anything to project. Her entire body shook again.

She felt exposed in a way that only a woman could feel. Her body was wracked internally by the cocktail of drugs he’d given her to keep her semi-conscious for the past few days. Her wrist had seen no doctor, and the setting was off. She could feel that her own wrapping was gone. The pain was horrific. Worse yet she knew she was improperly dressed. She was barely clothed in an old white dress that barely reached her knees. The material was thin and dirty, coated in places with her sweat. She could tell that her bra was gone, and her hips were bare. She stayed there, waiting to feel the remnants of being physically violated. Her body was quivering, not only due to fatigue and hunger but due to the temperature of where he’d placed her. It was barely warmer than a fridge. Not an hour before had it been a sauna. He was trying to break her. Physically her body was on edge while her mind was spinning.

The images on the TV in front of her began to come to, the static clearing and an image of mixed greens, yellows and reds materializing. Vivian blinked her eyes as they stung from the sight. She swallowed and wearily closed her eyes trying to drift off and find some relief. Her right shoulder twitched however and when she shivered the motion rippled up to her broken joint. Again she cried out. The noise was at first sharp, no more than a woman in pain. But it changed, becoming a growl of frustration. It was accentuated sharply by another dry heave and the clamoring of her limbs as she fought his restraints.

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Month 1



The ubiquitous sound out a zippo opening and then flicking shut would be heard to Vivian. She wouldn't be able to see him, not yet. She had a burlap sack covering her head. Her arms, at the wrist and elbows would be heavily strapped, tied to an upward placement above her head and kept at shoulder length apart. The straps bound her joints in a very meticulous manner, and kept her from using her arms and even her hands for either escape or defense. She would find her legs spread and bound at the ankles an knees. A strap even place over her throat, to keep her head from being used and to keep her from using her teeth to loosen the straps in any way possible.

The sound of the zippo would gradually get closer, the familiar cologne would penetrate the burlap covering and fill her nose before she would feel a sharp, contorting tug and the sack was removed. However, the darkness in her eyes persisted for the room had no lights, and no windows. She was bound in upright fashion however. She could feel the cold concrete wall at her back and her clothes had been replaced by disheveled and dirty rags practically. Vivian would hear the foot steps walk away and slowly, a squeaky wheeled cart making its way across the room before stopping several feet away. Then, the sound of a TV flickering on rang into her ears dispelling the silence before an all consuming light blinded her temporarily followed by static and white noise. She would be able to make out a faint, vague outline of Al but still not see his face. The T.v then switched to a constant feed of Nickolai on night vision.

The obscured man stepped away calling out behind himself. "I hope you enjoy the show. You should, cause you've brought this on yourself...and him." The sound of a distant door opening then shutting tightly and locking was heard.

The on board mic would whisper to Vivian, displaying a casually insincere grin towards her. A sadistic look in in his black, beady eyes as they stared at her now from the room Nickolai was in. He was adjusting he camera. Making sure it caught everything. Every little thing He was about to do. All while reminiscing about the 'good ole days'.

"You remember that time," Al began, a cigarette tucked loosely in his lips, the smoke raising past his eyes but they didn't even flinch he had smoked so much. "You were caught in Bosnia, and I disobeyed a direct order and went in after you. I saved you from your captors then, didn't I? I saved you then, and got you out and while I got taken. You left me then too. But I forgive you. I forgive you Vivian, because, you are just a gazelle. Mindlessly wandering where the herd goes. Oh, certainly you are a smart gazelle, probably the smartest ones around you. But you were never a predator. You simply don't have what it takes to do everything in your power to protect something you hold very dear." His eyes would seem to glaze over even on the screen.

Moving his face from the proximity of the camera in Nickolai's room, stepping back he lifted something. It was a long shaft connected by a long power cord. A hotshot was typically cylindrical, and could carry an open electric current at the "shock end" when activated. The electric current at the shock end runs through two metal electrodes. Anything which touches the electric current receives a high- voltage low- current shock, not strong enough to kill a human or a large animal such as a cow or sheep from short-term exposure, but it is enough to cause significant pain.

He turned the cattle prod on, letting the arching emit enough light that the video camera switched off from night vision and into primary vision mode. The light it was now was a brilliant blue hue discharge, that made a series of loud pops ominously. 9,000 volt sparks were flinging from the tip of the baton as Al stepped forwards towards the corner, where he knew Nick was. Lifting the wand up, he looked back over one shoulder to the camera as though to say, watch very carefully.

Al stopped before the still battered and bruised and heavily bandaged Nick. His head was still considerably bandaged, with a covering over one eye. His chest was wrapped like an Egyptian mummy; gauze was peeling of his sides arms and legs. Nick could barely bring himself to stand. Still badly injured, he was stabilized enough that it didn't warrant immediate cardiac arrest. Alphonse was a cruel man, like a wolf he didn't believe in being soft on an enemy because they were simply in pain. Now with his anger towards Vivian known, he stood there before a slightly drugged Nickolai who had more freedom than Vivian being only chained at his wrists, he was capable of hobbling a small distance away.

The man known as Nickolai, or, what should be said was "formally" known as Nickolai didn't look much like Nickolai no longer. Falling 47 floors came at a price. The major corrective surgery needed to repair his body left him in a state where large incisions and numerous stitches and staples were not just needed, they were the only thing in areas, holding him together. Nickolai sensed something was wrong, and even through his drugged out stupor, he could distinguish Al.

Nickolai had met Al on a handful of occasions. He was probably the only man that he truly feared. Al's quiet disposition, calm demeanor and those eyes always put him on edge. Now looking at those eyes with the only lighting for them was the fiery glow of a slow burning cigarette, and the nearly blinding flashes of the cattle prod. Eyes widening, Nickolai tried to back away and run quickly. But like a dog forgetting he was on a leash, was bound and restrained. Outstretching his hand, his vocals so damaged at this point that his words came out garbled. Alphonse determined to make Vivian pay for what she did, lowered the baton, in a slow, precise manner to Nick's calf. Immediately he went into convulsion, falling immediately to the floor.

Cigarette in one hand and in the other the baton, Al continued shocking Nick; screams like groans of the dying flooding Vivian's room as the Mic caught them all. Every time Al would shock Nick, he'd back off turning the prod off and leaving the room black. This allowed the disoriented Nick to adjust and try to pick himself up off the floor and stumble around. Al, being well equipped for the dark, would turn the prod back on, step forwards and send another 9,000 volts flooding his system leaving him hyperventilating and gasping for air on the floor. So what was seen on Vivian's monitor were brief flashes of bright light, and the black except the tip of Al's cigarette.

After two hours of this, he shut the prod off and then reset the camera to night vision mode. Stepping past the camera he opened the door and stepped out. Al then headed down several labyrinth like tunnels, before entering Vivian's room once again. He stepped across the room slowly, his heels of his polished dress shoes clicking as he did. He leaned on the T.v.

"So what did you think?" He questioned calmly, taking a sip of coffee he had gotten along the way.

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It was like being in the presence of a psychopath. Vivian knew they all could be that way, especially when they felt raw aggression. As contract killers they could tap into a personality that renounced all guilt and feeling. All they felt was the kill and a hunger for blood. It was a state of mind that got to some. Vivian had never fallen into it, not truly. Al had himself set up brilliantly. The room she was in was sealed. With no windows and formal light structures it was pleasantly dark aside from the glows of the TV screen. Vivian closed her eyes the moment Al began to speak. Slowly she paced her breaths, tuning out the sounds of her former lover’s voice and the cries of desperation from a man she’d grown up with.

Every so often her wrist would jerk and she’d grunted fighting to control her heart beat. When it raced she had a tendency to vomit. Her guess was that he’d been rather cruel and mixed insect venom with his anesthetic. The cocktail made it hard to come out of. Even though she’d spent a few days in her prison she hadn’t spent a moment of it one hundred percent lucid. Today was the first that she was capable of remembering details, such as her state of dress and the bindings.

With her lucidity of course came the ability to control her thoughts and body. The emotions of it did catch her. There was a minute about a guilt in her, the kind that came and settled in the bottom of your stomach like a small rock. It would just sit there and bug a person because they knew something was partly their fault. She knew better though. She’d seen his phone. She’d read his contact list, his recent messages, and found that Nicodemus was his primary contact. She knew he was working for the enemy. Whether or not she’d been at the Waldorf that night she wouldn’t have led Al to Nick. Alphonse would have found her employer regardless. She was a pretty prize for him.

With her logic setting that aside, his taunts didn’t eat at her. They only frustrated her the way a mosquito would when it buzzed near your ear. He was arrogant and taunting. But she ignored him. Ten minutes into his session she dosed off.

When the door opened it woke her. Slowly her lids opened and she swallowed dry mouth once again. The foul taste of vomit still rested on her tongue. The television screen was green and dim, the only figure of prominence a feverish looking body on the floor that could only be Nick. She sent him a silent prayer, willing herself to send him the energy to survive.

Al was impeccably dressed for a torture artist. His Prada dress shoes glinted off the light of the TV, clicking as he went. His swagger was immediate and apparent. With his body high on the adrenaline of his torture, Alphonse couldn’t help but smirk. He leaned casually against the cart holding the TV and stared straight at her, his eyes disturbing.

"So what did you think?"
he asked, his voice mellow. She expected him to squeak like a prepubescent boy. He seemed too happy. He swallowed from a cup of coffee. The scent caught her nose and immediately her stomach gargled. Even smelling the caffeine made her alert.

“I slept through it,” she answered, closing her eyes again. She didn’t smile, knowing it would aggravate him. She didn’t laugh or tease him. Instead Vivian’s voice was calm and level, telling him the truth. “And I was never captured in Bosnia,” she added. His play of rescuing her was a complete lie. She knew the truth. She’d been undercover. Al’s definition of captured meant that Vivian had been sleeping with a man she didn’t like, much less want to give herself to. He liked to think she was a damsel in distress, a notion that would have most women swooning. Only it repulsed Vivian and frustrated her beyond belief that he never thought her capable of anything.

Her eyes stared back at him, as level and confident as they could be given her situation. She lacked his ego, however, and had no spark in her gaze. That she knew was something he’d gained by his power play over Nickolas, torturing the man who God knows what reason. Vivian was angry. She was feeling an intense revulsion toward him but more a desperation to correct what was happening. He was standing over her like a starving wolf. He wasn’t himself. His morals had been tossed. The Al she was angry with wasn’t the same man she loved.

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"Now there's a completely unexpected response." Al said sarcastically. He took another sip before waving back towards what would have been a wall. Suddenly the room they were in became flooded with light. Illuminating every corner and every inch of the small concrete room.

"Always so selfish, aren't we? Well, when wakes up, it'll be your turn. But first," He said walking over to a simple table. He sat his cup down, his hands encased in black leather gloves that matched his impeccable attire. There was a container, much like an ordinary beer cooler. However, what lie inside was a different sort of mind numbing sensation. He gripped the container on both end and carefully saunter towards Vivian.

Al then lifted his lapel and within moments, a heart monitor, a respirator, and several physicians entered the room. What lay in wait for her must have been bad to warrant a crash cart. Stepping past the box he gently had placed down on the floor, he stepped up to Vivian. A smile on his lips.

His hand touched her bare thigh. The warm skin, now cooled by the conditions of solid stone and no real air ventilation to speak of. The dripping of pipes and leaky water was heard somewhere in the room. His eyes gazed over her skimpily clad figure with a look of almost admiration. Looking up into her face, his eyes questioningly pondering before he spoke.

"I do forgive you for all the shit you've pulled my dear. But back there when you attacked me, I was trying to apologize. Its so like you to strike out, naked and blind like a wounded animal. But I'm afraid, this time you've gone and broke my heart. That just will not do. I loved you, il mio tesoro.(my darling)" He said in his native Italian tongue. It would be strange, for as much contempt as he held for her and she could definitely fell the point of his anger at her most recent actions she would be able to also see the pained glance he gave her as he lifted a large wooden implement that was covered in cloth. It was to bite down on." Vi aiuterà. (It will help)"

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Nothing she said struck a chord. Instead Al remained stony and in the mindset that his commanding officer preferred; mindless and without ethics of any kind. It was like he forgot her past, his past, and most of what they had been through together. With love out of the picture she was just a nuisance of a woman to him, one that had often emasculated him during their fights for dominance.

"Now there's a completely unexpected response."
Al said sarcastically. Vivian kept her eyes closed only to experience a bright flash of light. She winced, feeling the onslaught of the lightbulbs as they began to emit heat. Fluttering her lashes she struggled at first to take in the room. Now with the lights on she could see that it was larger than she had thought. Most importantly, however, she could make out the door, its frame and make. Immediately her nose wrinkled, her reaction to the steel enforced sheet that blocked her exit. Not that she could free herself from his restraints but in the even that she could weasel her way out breaking through that entrance would be a heck of a lot of work from the inside.

"Always so selfish, aren't we? Well, when Nick wakes up, it'll be your turn. But first," he stated as he moved toward a standard table to her left. Al had always had a flare for drama. She’d often joked with him in private that if he wasn’t on task as the government’s go to SEAL, now JSOC, that he’d be making it big on Broadway. Vivian watched attentively as he lifted up a red metal cooler, the latches still sealing its contents. Immediately she heard the unmistakable sound of sloshing water. As Al came back over to her side she shivered again recalling a story he’d told her once of a torture mechanism that had been used by the British on prisoners exiled to Australia once upon a time.

They had quite literally acted upon nature, recognizing a rather venomous strand of jellyfish off their shores. In catching the world’s fastest jellyfish they then set it upon those prisoners they didn’t want to die. Most times the creature only claimed children. In adults it was potent enough to induce an aggravating six-hour experience of incredible pain.

Even her former lover had deemed the practice completely inhumane yet there he was. She feared the monster who stood proudly to her side. Slowly he lowered it to the floor. She missed a motion but rather suddenly the front door to the cell was pressed open and several men and women dressed in blue scrubs entered. They were covered from head to toe and all wearing the unmistakable thick black rubber gloves that even Al had doned. They pushed recognizable machines, enough to confirm her fears.

Slowly he reached out to her, sliding his gloved hand across the bare skin of her left thigh. Vivian swallowed keeping her eyes closed and her body still while he touched her. As he looked down at her there was a slight change in his eyes, the sort of look he used to give her when they had first met – affection and near reverence.

"I do forgive you for all the shit you've pulled my dear. But back there when you attacked me, I was trying to apologize. It’s so like you to strike out, naked and blind like a wounded animal. But I'm afraid, this time you've gone and broke my heart. That just will not do. I loved you, il mio tesoro.(my darling)" He said in his native Italian tongue. The words hung in her mind, the pet name he’d called her so many times. And now he said it with no conviction. “Ti voglio bene ancora, il mio principe incantevole,” she murmured, hurt. (I still love you my prince charming…)

He moved slowly, gathering a medium sized wooden dowel wrapped in what looked like a thin hand-towel. She couldn’t tell if he was taking his time for a reason now but it bothered her.

"Vi aiuterà, (It will help)" he told her. As he pressed it against her lips she obliged, opening them to accept the dowel between her teeth. Leaning her head back as much as she could she closed her eyes. Her heart was rushing beyond her control now. No amount of deep breathing could calm it.

She heard him moving but could no longer watch but his words confirmed her memories. Suddenly Alphonso was taking it upon himself to once again rattle off facts about the creature. "Each tentacle has about 500,000 cnidocytes, harpoon-shaped needles that inject venom into the victim. Their venom is considered to be among the most deadly in the world, containing toxins that attack the heart, nervous system, and skin cells. It is so overpoweringly painful, human victims have been known to go into shock and drown or die of heart failure before even reaching shore. Survivors can experience considerable pain for weeks and often have significant scarring where the tentacles made contact."

He rose to stand, the monster of a jellyfish in his now gloved hands. It dribbled water, and flickered unhappily. Al met Vivian’s gaze and she stared back at him for a moment wondering what was going on in his head. As the water continued to drip the main door opened again. A face Vivian recognized entered. He was a bold character on the American political scene but immediately Al seemed taken aback by his presence.

"Sir?" Al questioned.

"Alphonse, I am merely overlooking this operation because it is quite valuable,” he answered. This was his commanding officer, of that she was sure. Vivian stared up at Al with pleading eyes. Never in her life would she commit such an act against her lover. Even if she was having trouble with him, fighting with him, running from him, she would never commit unnecessary pain against him.

Torture had always been a sore spot with Vivian. She was a quick and efficient killer, a person who didn’t do any more than was necessary. Putting a person through mind-altering pain was the job of a psychopath, not a contract assassin. If Vivian had to kill a person, it was not her job to ensure they felt it.
This was the key division between her and Al. It always had been. When she was asked to detain and ‘question’ prisoners she refused. They didn’t like her interrogation techniques and she loathed the pain the government inflicted to receive information that would never be given. In Bosnia and Sierra Leone she’d been there to gather up the person and nothing more. Al’s interference with her assignments was always in the name of information. In Bosnia he’d ‘saved her’ as he put it, and took her man into custody. In Sierra Leone he’d taken her contacts and undercover work and once again grabbed the man they had wanted. She was tired of it.

The presence of his CO made her fear for more than her coming torture. He was directly linked to her former CO, a man she was sure wanted her in bed before putting a bullet in her head. She was a source of misery to many it seemed.

Vivian looked away from Al feeling her eyes water slightly.

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“Ti voglio bene ancora, il mio principe incantevole,”

There were two things that Alphonso De Elitore Anjelo did not do: 1. Hesitate. He did not hesitate to do anything he felt in his better judgement that he should or should not do. In his whole career, indeed Vivian knew this, it wasn't him if paused even for the briefest of moments. He taught her that, to even hesitate for a fraction of a second and she would be dead. He tested her time and again, until she learned never to hesitate rather it was her partner or a known enemy.

2. Make a mistake. Alphonso's obsessive compulsive disorder drove his every action. He knew what buttons to push, when to push them. He was always, always extremely thorough in his investigations, and he never missed when he put a bullet into someone, even go so far as to calculate the wind direction, the speed, rather it would blow a different direction or not--just for something mundane as a handgun rather than a fully articulated sniper system.

He was about to fight everything he was, and everything he had built himself to be in his 26 years of life on this planet. He was about to show Vivian, the truth. That he did not abandon her after that night. That instead he was merely keeping her safe.

"Alphonse, I am merely overlooking this operation because it is quite valuable,”

"Yes sir." Al responded, looking back over at Vivian. Had he really, truly wanted it to come to this? Of course he hadn't. But she was so stubborn, and truthfully, he was entirely too good a liar. Torturing her was meant to rouse her suspicion, but alas she hadn't caught on to his sophisticated technique of diversion. Now she really would have to play along...

With water dripping from his gloved hands, drizzling the floor creating a puddle with each and every slow step he made towards Vivian. Cradling the Box Jellyfish, being mindful of the tendrils and their barbs he let them sway ominously, like shackles and chains of bondage that would enslave her to a kind of pain that, not just anyone could live through.

Stopping just shy of her, he leaned forwards in a most capricious manner. His cinnamon inspired lips, soft and pliant as they were that night the made love gingerly pressed to the skin of her inner thigh in a most intimate way. The warmth of her body, steeling his resolve as he could once again feel the flames of the oil pumps that night in Sierra Leone, burning like thousands of candles around them. The glow of her fair skin, the taste of it in his mouth.

"Te l'avevo detto ( I told you so)." Al whispered almost incomprehensibly as his body began to shift slowly backwards. However, as he pulled away he switched the Jellyfish to his left hand while his left he removed the two protective gloves with his teeth. He cradled the head of the jelly fish, The 15 tentacles on each corner that grew up to 3 meters long, with up to 5,000 stinging cells, the nematocysts on them, hung dauntingly below.

"I told you, I would do it!" He shouted suddenly, winking at her.

Lifting his arm steadily, it would almost seem as though Alphonso would in-fact, place the jelly fish on her. However, His arm arched back as though to throw a fast ball before springing forwards like a straight punch. The 15 tentacles coiled and wrapped themselves around his arm, piercing the thin material of his three piece and imbedded themselves all along his arm--from shoulder to the tips of his finger.

Al would not get to make complete contact with her leg. Only the bulbous shape of the jelly fish's membrane 'head' would barely graze her thigh. The potent venom poured in through the multiple injection sites. Immediately, veins protruded along his temples and forehead, the pigment of his skin became so flushed it looked like raw hamburger. Yet, Al was still unquestionably clutching the jelly fish, hold his breath and shaking his head in jerking motions rather than fluid ones. The intense pain set in as his body began to react to the poison. Letting out a cry like a wounded animal, he thrashed kicked over a table and even shoved his commanding officer out of the way before collapsing to his knees, only stabilizing himself with one hand but his strength was waning.

The pain was so great, so intense that he vomited, spewing bile and acids all over the and his eyes flooded with tears as his bod slipped further and further into cardiac arrest. He clutched a table that he hadn't turned over, turning towards Vivian, his face so contorted with pain, it wouldn't recognizable. His mouth opened but gargled words came out and the emergency staff came and pried him away from the table laying him on a stretcher they had brought in. They hooked him to the heart monitor and his heart beat was 220. They poured vinegar over the jelly fish, diffusing its receptors to stop further envenoming before they rushed Al, who was going into full cardiac arrest out the door.

In stepped another agent, this one looked and appeared dressed like a secret service agent.

"Get her in to solitary confinement, goddammit it!" The CO order before brusquely shoving past the agent who then gave the order to a standby physician who injected Vivian with an anesthesia to paralyze and subdue her body from from moving.

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#, as written by Korrye
Slowly she tested the durability of the dowel. It was standard hardware and smelt of cedar. Despite the cloth she had a semi easy time digging her teeth into it. Vivian’s jaw flexed and she continued to alternate between closed eyes and attentive glances at her former lover.

Al stood there, responding to his CO’s presence with a general statement. He was rigid, his shoulders and sleek muscles very apparent between the well tailored white shirt. His suit jacket had been removed for obvious reasons. She knew the six hundred dollar shirt, or somewhere in that area, would be ruined by the end of this fiasco. She missed his wife-beaters and cargo pants.

He truly didn’t seem like the man she knew. He stepped toward her as his CO willed his underling along from the sidelines. The medical personnel were silent but Vivian would hear one woman in particular breathing as if she were going to have a panic attack. Her mask fluttered against her face until one of the men put a hand on her lower back. His touch made her slow down. Such a gesture was something she missed. As a lover it was a show of affection, sure, but to the receiver it was so much more than that. When you loved someone, their touch was soothing. Just being there became a form of medicine.

The jellyfish continued to drip, the noise distracting her thoughts. She returned to the present, staring up at Al and meeting his gaze. She inhaled sharply, her eyes narrowing. There…was something else there in his expression.

Slowly he leaned towards her and she breathed heavily at his proximity. Immediately she pulled on her restraints, regretting the movement. At once her wrist felt like someone was taking a power saw to the burn. Her fingers felt like they were on fire while her nerves sent the sensations down the length of her arm. She moaned, hiccuping and wincing.

"Te l'avevo detto."
Al whispered, the Italian words lost on the Americans in the room. She swallowed searching his face for further clues. She couldn’t read him. He suddenly wasn’t so cold. The firm gaze in his eyes seemed to melt away as his eyebrows lost their arch. His forehead relaxed and a series of wrinkles disappeared. He had decided something.

His actions baffled her. His CO stepped forward the moment Alphonse shifted, pulling the gloves on his hands back to reveal the bare skin of his arms. His shirtsleeves had been rolled up to his elbows.

"I told you, I would do it!" He shouted, winking while he made an irreversible movement. Vivian’s eyes widened when any ordinary civilian would surely have winced. She watched him as he moved his arm and sent it in a punch like movement through the tentacles of the deadly creature right as they dangled over her exposed left thigh.

At once she was grazed by the head of the jellyfish. It landed with a wet slap against her knees. As one of the arms swung out to construct Alphonse it dragged itself off of her. Vivian dropped the dowel from between her teeth and hissed loudly, a noise that grew into a powerful groan as she tried to do anything she could to lean forward toward Al despite her restraints.

This was everything. His actions, his decisions, they all said volumes. Vivian’s mouth was caught open. While she fought her own pain all she could do was focus on the shape of her lover’s face. She didn’t scream out to him or shriek in agony. It was against herself to make such a display. But mentally her emotions were sailing and there she was feeling helpless while her lover had made himself suffer on her behalf.

Not once had Al thrown himself in the line of fire, not in such a way. He’d never been the type to completely commit or sacrifice himself for anything other than his country. The rift between them all those years ago had started due to such issues. Then had come his dedication to a job that frankly Vivian didn’t believe in and his interference in her work. All the frustrations seemed to dissipate in that moment.

As his body reacted to the dangerous amount of venom he’d taken in from the sting Vivian couldn’t help but cry. Silent tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. They were partly her bodies reaction to the pain she was experiencing herself but once they had started she couldn’t stop. She felt her throat constrict as her nasal passages became swollen. Al became violent, knocking his CO back into the wall before finally collapsing. The man was in disbelief for a moment over the sight and rejection of commands by his leading agent.

The medical personnel immediately leapt into action, pulling Alphonse up off the ground and onto the available gurney. They worked fast and before Vivian could cry out to him he’d been removed from the room.

The CO was infuriated and it wasn’t until another suited man entered the room that he seemed to remember his duties. "Get her in to solitary confinement, goddammit it!" the man barked before shoving his way out and into the hall. Vivian watched as the last standing physician, a tall and muscular man despite his scrubs, approached her with a syringe in hand. She stared at him boldly knowing that moving wasn’t an option. The tear lines on her cheeks were apparent. Under each eye was a clean line to her chin showing to him how much grime had built up on her skin. Her lip trembled and she inhaled sharply when he approached and slid up the white gown to expose her hip. He jabbed the anesthesia into her muscle, pressing the plunger quickly. Vivian immediately felt woozy, her eyes glazing over while her body slackened. The needle was removed and her dress fell back down against her cool skin. She felt the numbness spread but her consciousness remained.

The dosage had been off.

Slowly she began to feel the restraints loosen. The physician and a black suited man began to unlock the various ties fastened to her joints. First her feet were released, exposed and bare. The long boards and leather straps that went up the length of her knee were also undone. The doctor paused, bending her legs slowly to ensure they hadn’t damaged any ligaments or tendons.

“Quite the sight, mmm?” the suited man chuckled. His words got through to her, her ears hypersensitive as she struggled to watch them. Her stomach was lurching again despite her lack of food.

“Don’t even think about it Nathan,” the doctor responded sharply. He began to work quicker, releasing her chin and neck. Her head dropped forward with her chin tucking into her chest. She moaned.

“With us being here, I haven’t seen my girl or any action in close to two weeks. It’s all I’m thinking about. Not like she’d feel it,” he said, smirking. Vivian faintly felt his hand reach up the length of her left leg before coming to rest just under her skirt.

“She’s not completely sedated. She’s watching you right this minute Nathan. I only gave her a high dose of morphine. She’s loopy but she’s conscious. And knowing her history, she’s unlikely to forget any of this.”

The suited man sneered taking a moment to graze his hand further up her hip. Immediately the doctor stepped forward, swinging his arm back and forward to punch his colleague in the cheek. The blow sent the suited man reeling. He lost his footing, tripping backwards into the overturned table. He fell back and into the wall where his head met the concrete. The blow was enough to knock him out.

The doctor sighed, waving his hand slightly in the air before stepping forward to release her arms from the ceiling. Vivian’s body collapsed into a heap on the floor. She was like a ragdoll. She had no ability to hold herself up or support her own weight. The doctor heaved her up onto her shaky feet, pulling her arm over his shoulder. Before they left he reclaimed the earlier used burlap sack and placed it over her head. Then they got to moving.

Vivian’s bare feet grazed over cold concrete the entire way. The doctor seemed to hold her above the ground as they walked. There were no voices to be heard as they moved, only the occasional footsteps. It seemed to take forever to get where they were going. Their walk was filled with endless turns that ended up being too complicated a sequence to remember. After what felt like an hour she heard the mechanism of an automated door pop open. She was exposed to a regulated temperate room with soft walls and floors. She was tossed in, the door closing behind her. “You’re in for something a little later my dear. Sleep while you can,” the doctor told her, his voice solemn. "Ti amo per sempre il mio caro," she murmured, unable to move. (I'll always love you my darling...)

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Character Portrait: Tommy Pirelli
0 sightings Tommy Pirelli played by Vault
"I ain't got the best aim or the fastest car, but when it comes to loyalty, I'm your man."
Character Portrait: Elliot Swain
0 sightings Elliot Swain played by Delkura
"Underestimate the enemy and you will die."
Character Portrait: Simon Lancaster
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"There are only two sides to society, the smart people who aim to do well and the little do-gooders who fool themselves."

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Character Portrait: Nickolai De Luca/ Nicodemus De Luca
Character Portrait: Duncan Merretti
Character Portrait: Vivian Nox
Character Portrait: Anya Rospev
Character Portrait: Deanna Charboneau
Character Portrait: Svetlana Belinsky

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Character Portrait: Svetlana Belinsky
Svetlana Belinsky

"If you say in Soviet Russia one more time. I will make your death slow and painful"

Character Portrait: Deanna Charboneau
Deanna Charboneau

"Give it here I'll fix it"

Character Portrait: Anya Rospev
Anya Rospev

"Americans are fools"

Character Portrait: Vivian Nox
Vivian Nox

Another bill from a killer turned a thrill into a tragedy

Character Portrait: Duncan Merretti
Duncan Merretti

"You're either on top or you're dead."

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Character Portrait: Vivian Nox
Vivian Nox

Another bill from a killer turned a thrill into a tragedy

Character Portrait: Svetlana Belinsky
Svetlana Belinsky

"If you say in Soviet Russia one more time. I will make your death slow and painful"

Character Portrait: Deanna Charboneau
Deanna Charboneau

"Give it here I'll fix it"

Character Portrait: Duncan Merretti
Duncan Merretti

"You're either on top or you're dead."

Character Portrait: Anya Rospev
Anya Rospev

"Americans are fools"

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Vivian Nox
Vivian Nox

Another bill from a killer turned a thrill into a tragedy

Character Portrait: Duncan Merretti
Duncan Merretti

"You're either on top or you're dead."

Character Portrait: Anya Rospev
Anya Rospev

"Americans are fools"

Character Portrait: Svetlana Belinsky
Svetlana Belinsky

"If you say in Soviet Russia one more time. I will make your death slow and painful"

Character Portrait: Deanna Charboneau
Deanna Charboneau

"Give it here I'll fix it"


Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Ventrue: Out of Character

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  • Ventrue
    1, 2, 3, 4, 5by Seraph on Sun May 01, 2011 7:51 pm
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    Last post by Seraph View the latest post
    on Sun Jul 10, 2011 7:51 pm

Most recent OOC posts in Ventrue

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Due to inactivity, I'm suspending this RP until further notice. I apologize for any inconvenience. Thanks for those that helped.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Where did everyone else go??

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

I apologize folks, my computer is brokedded I have ordered the parts needed and it'll only be a few days. Till then, I'll have limited time online as I am mooching off my public library

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Anyone have anything planned or in the works?

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Allright she up let me know if she's good enough or if I have to make some changes. cant send PM's till I get 10 stupid posts in so I'll just talk to you here Seraph.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Okay Blue Bonnets sent me here looks like you can use some Russians considering they all quit. I'll do some research on the Russian Mafia and then make my character. That's if you don't mind her being a woman.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Seraph when ever your ready to do that its fine. I added some stuff to my character profile like a picture of her father, the Gun shop where her father does business both legal and not, and her work shop. I will do the dialog for her father as well. If that's all right. Thanks for doing the intro thing for my character.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Okay thanks for approving her Seraph. I'll keep an eye out when a good time for her to post right now she still kind of doesn't exist. So I'll just wait and see. Unless you had something up your sleeve planned for her coming into the story. And I will gladly work with you on that cause yeah I really want to get started. I've applied to three Rp's now and got no response except from yours. Which I'm a little perturbed by, I don't mind making characters but I make them cause I want to be in the story. Not to sit around and hope they get picked. And its not like they have allot of people signing up either. I'm like the third person to sign up on both of these. Sorry I'm venting frustration but I'm annoyed.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

I liked her, she is accepted Bonny. :)The leader of the Russian Mafia will begin to post more frequently in ACT 2. I think Deanna and Vladmir will enjoy each other quite well. :D

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Okay Seraph I made her you tell me if she's alright or whether I need to edit. But so far your Rp is the only one that I have tried to join so far that shows any promise. I just hope she'll fit in, I went on ahead she's not officially Russian, but I didn't think that it was a really big deal whether she was or not. Ive never actually done RP thing before but I wrote stories allot when I was in high school. Also I know you put a rule on the Russian should have Russian guns but she's not officially Ventrue or Russian.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

"Ah I see" said the blind man to the deaf woman over the telephone. Okay I guess I can do the dealer for the Russians thing I'll get to work on it ASAP. I just wanted a girl character that can use just about any weapon you put in her hand. But as I'm seeing everybody is quite proficient, I just like the fact of a girl that can take a gun apart put it back together and have it work better. But I really don't want to be Russian? Can they not be Russian and work for them. I know that sounds like a stupid question but I'm curious. But I believe there is no such thing as a stupid question just mistakes made by not asking them. And If you don't mind the girl and her father could still take him in and care for him even though they work for the Russians. Like I said up to you, I'm just throwing out ideas so my character fits better into the story line. I don't want to have a character that's kind of out on the side lines doing their own thing cause I'm to damn anal to get with story.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Well the arms dealer would certainly go along with the Russians pretty well. Maybe her father could work as a dealer for the Russians to get their armament. It is the job of a weapon supplier to find away to smuggle the weapons into sometimes dangers territory. Lord of War is an excellent movie that documents weapon smuggling very well. The bar however, is owned by Nickolai as it is apart of one of his hotels--which due to Nicodemus belong to Nico because Nick is on the record as being dead in the explosion of the mansion.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

LOL okay well I guess I can wait I was in the middle of making her and I hit the wrong button and well that went to hell. I was almost done to dang it, I can run it past you here if you like it I can change her up to fit in with the Russians I didn't plan on being one but I'll be able to fill needed roles. Any way just let me know, the character was going to be the daughter of a illegal weapons dealer that provides Venture with their fire power. They were having a dilemma because they didn't want to pick sides between the brothers. I noticed that Nickolai just messed up a bar really bad and thought that might be a way to bring in my character. By having her father own that bar, and them kind of taking him in and taking care of him cause from what I read he was pretty beat up and hadn't stopped yet. But that would be up to you I can actually do two characters if you like that idea. I said before I have allot of time on my hands. And Im not going anywhere anytime soon my doctor would jump me if she found out I was doing allot. So Im stuck being bored till I have this kid and I still have four months to go.And if people freak out about you looking at their profile why do they have them???? I just don't get some people oh well.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

What you could do, Bonnet. Is wait till Act 2 I'll be time skipping a few months and no one will have heard from Nickolai. I need someone in the Russian Mafia cause well, everyone who joined that part kinda gave up on it. Perhaps due in part to them being very inactive in part one as they are still just a minor nuisance. In Act 2 they will be very active.

lol. Okay. People are sometime weird about their profiles. They think you're stalking them or something.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Okay thanks Seraph. I don't know why but for some reason I can't send message right now. I'm gonna take a look and see how the story is going. But seeing as there are allot of characters with ulterior motives. I think I'm gonna through someone who is just a little on the innocent side. I hope that's okay I was thinking of trying to balance it out a little. I'll make the character and you can let me know. I've got plenty of time on my hands so I try my best. And I don't think your weird for looking at my profile first lol.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

I just wondering if your still accepting characters, and if so what kind of characters are you looking for. I don't want to make a character that doesn't make sense, that wont be of any help to the plot. If you could let met know that would be great. This looks like an RP I would like. The whole modern Italian mafia sounds interesting.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

So sorry about the chat posts showing up on the in character board. I had zero intention of that happening. I'm working on deleting them.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Well, I appreciate your apology Delkura. As for your ideas--they really didn't fit with the story. What's the English mafia gonna do to a Sicilian-based Mafia that, although splintered between two heirs now legally one heir that technically rules the most powerful consumer run country? And an organization that's just as feared as much as the Cosa Nostra simply because they can access black market deals? The Russians are known to be at the top. It just doesn't make sense. As for the pimps and other such characters, that would be fine for Nickolai's crew, but Nicodemus runs the head of states, senators and congressmen, he has the SS(Secret Service) in his pocket and can execute the president like the Praetorians did many a Emperor of Rome.

People like this RP the way that it drags out longer. That way its linear and doesn't jump all over the place. There is a clear focus around the brothers, but many subplots around their men. Natalia, Duncan, and Nick for example have a love triangle going on. Its a tri-fecta of emotions. Lilliana likes Nicodemus but Alphonse gave her assurances that her family would be well protected from the super cell called Majestic 12. Vivian likes Alphonse, granted its more of a vicious little game between two hyper lethal agents. But it all comes down to the two brothers.

Everyone else likes it, I can't change it for one person. I'm a pretty fair guy but I know what I want. If that bothers you, I am sorry. Your ideas just don't fit.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Now that you are here, I just wanted to say sorry that it had to come down to me leaving but I simply don't have the patience to go along with a plot where it takes to long for anything to happen. Not just that but you didn't even message me back about the idea I had which makes it even less motivating to continue.

Re: [OOC] Ventrue

Hey guys, this is Will. Sorry for any worry I may have caused. I am back now, with relatively few side effects. I just posted as Al.