Post by BZA on Jun 27, 2018 0:18:52 GMT
MIDNIGHT MADNESS
KILLER
It was was a conference that took place on an illustrious mansion situated in a villa overlooking the adjacent districts, home to expats nobles & Chinatown's wealthiest inhabitants. Fiddling through the darkness of this particularly special silent night was a man. Rigid but composed like an immortalized statuesque column, his black tufts exploding & dangling elegantly on his head. He lets out a robust sigh after weaving into another backstreet dead end. Back at the mansion; in a wastefully spacious room, the conversation was picking its pace. Within this room of eight, are two servants, several low level gang grunts & two high executive members. The couple dictated the subject matter: the particulars of the Chinatown's underbelly. The discussions winds down into a chatter on the events centered on the fiassco that gripped all several days prior. Chintown had quaked as one of its Yuelang Clan faced off against a charismatic yet insufferable rogue. In a display that pitted skill & experience against vigor & determination, it was the rogue who grabbed the reigns of victory earning the admiration of an entire faction. Yet the dismantled infrastructure of the Wyndham Garden bore testament to his fury. To make it worse, they had supplanted their competitor and declared war not on the other gangs but the world itself. The talk of The Grand Heist and its ruckus was also brimming with talk of chaos. No, rather the chaos, the talk focused on the crusade of the relatively dormant giant. A rag tag bunch called 'The Fang' which sliced diced, shook & baked those who dared stand on their mission. Add this to the rumor that their leader, the Symbol of Chaos was free and it was easy to see a new age was dawning!
However, it was the mention of the rogues name that one of the executives expression changes. Wrinkled into a rage, disgust and bitterness, a strong foul odor of anger permeates from him. One of the aides could not help from chuckling at his ugly crumpled expression, which did nothing but infuriate him. "Do you find something funny peasant?" his voice rattled in an instance. The dark haired Korean woman quietly shook her head in disagreement before lowering her head. Impressed at her brashness his companion begun to stare at her supple bosom which was fighting a losing battle against her outfit. "I don't think I've have had you before." Suddenly, the atmosphere around the room changes as he bears his fangs, the ravenous piercing look of eyes that unashamedly was stripping the maid almost literally. Business would have to wait, it was now time for the indulgence of canal pleasure. "Come here" he gestured at the impudent maid. Nightly orgies for sadistic aristocrats & lap dog guests had become a routine in this villa. The teenage girl's reserved companion had birthed two children through the perversity that was about to transpire. The light of hope in her was dying out. This would be her final humiliation. Hardly, do the two take a step forward when the lights in the room go out as a blast of scorching flames engulfs the surrounding walls heating them to a charred crisp. Dazed and confused the nobles cower like the vermin whilst their agents, closest to them (walls) get their limbs sprayed throughout the room. The ceremonious stomping stride of a foot's heel cuts short the confusion. Deep from the razing flames the cheeky smile of the prodigious figure emerges. On this night Kisoomi's son had come to fulfill duty.
The impact of the previous attack had produced a shock wave that rocked the region. A seismic tremor had followed soon after sending the Brontos Estate southern quarter back to the stone age. Fear gripped the inhabitants and instantaneously the masses poured into the streets running about in helter skelter. The midnight marauders invocation was well and truly underway. M'sondaa swayed his head from side to side and breathed deep into his lungs. His nostrils twitched slightly as the air rubbed past them, on route to his lungs. This was not due its chilly coldness but rather its stench. In the staleness of it all, was the saturated fragrant aroma of Izanami. The demon queen with powers of creation and destruction had graced the island with her presence and he could sense it. In all his years nothing could compare to, let alone best the smell that she oozed. A tingling spark of joy escaped his brain and ran down his spine before dispersing throughout his body and electrifying him with impassioned yearning. His eyes dilated in rhythm to his palpitating heart as he wished this moment would last longer and allow him to sink his teeth further into the cursed fruit of Lust. However, he had important matters to attend to. There were people to see and bodies to collect. The dancing flames around the burning room illuminated the face of his and his father's enemies. "Gentlemen, I trust you know why I am here." His voice calm and controlled a far cry from the tense mood present. "Please stop this M'sondaa! Our father is ..." the man barked.
"Your had seventy hours to respond & submit to Fang. Failure to do so is perceived as non compliance." the architect of chaos hissed. Ever so gently he stretched out his right hand prompting it to spark at his whim. "FUCK YOUR CREW NIG.." "Terrible choice for last words" was M'sondaa's declaration before charging forward and driving his fist into the men's chests. Unable to contain his rage, the indomitable Nimrod exploded and the motionless bodies that lay before him the definitive proof. A loud screech from a foot sliding as it rubbed across the floor, broke Baraka's heavy breathing and let him free from the oscillating mental asylum of thought. At the same time, a pack of wolves with crimson furs that were as light as water, gnarled before they began their descent from his crescent shaped feather clouds. With gravity on their side, it had been only a matter of time before they quickly gathered momentum and soon descended on the wooden floors grew below. These wolves were the remnants of what was left of the Heung and Park Moon sons to Miyamoto's Yakuza head honcho. Perhaps, this would convince their old man on Fang's seriousness. After cracking open their torso, blood had been projected mostly to the ground and around Duma's forearms, only to get trapped in his Philippe Patek watch soiling it dull. The ear deafening scream of their maids filled the room but it was no use. Under the madness of this night it was nothing more than a blimp drowned by the screams of the chaos that engulfed the town and so came to pass the terror of the brim hat bandit. A named coined by the imaginative minds at Fox & used to support their racist anti immigration policies. No matter, M'sondaa liked it.
1159
OBJ: Kill Citizen (Intermediate)
