The Mad City - Songbird's Sorrow

[Rukia]

Stephanie watched as the creature shambled away. Shivering in her wet, dirty clothes she started out of the alley, the laughing of the nightmaere floating back to her. She walked along the damp streets, the lights here seemed to only give a half assed attempt at lighting anything. The scrapes and cuts along her back and arms began to sting as the garbage water made its way into them. She decided that she needed to find something new to wear. She reached into her shoe and pulled out a wad of twenties. She couldn’t help but let out a tired laugh at the irony. She continued along the sidewalk until the lights turned garish and harsh. She guessed she was in downtown or maybe uptown she couldn’t be sure.

Stopping in front of what looked like a clothing shop she noticed that the display had clubbing attire. Upon further inspection that’s all that this particular shop sold. Looking around it seemed as though this was her best bet. She stepped inside, the place looked empty except for one bored looking clerk at the register. She browsed for a few moments before finding an all black outfit consisting of a long skirt with slits on either side. As well as a long sleeved shirt with a slit in the fabric above her chest as well as two slits on the stomach and more down the arms. The intentionally raged look appealed to her some how so she took the outfit up to the counter. Clearing her throat she asked the clerk “Excuse me, I didn’t see a price on this.â€

[rhoenix]

The thing that might have been a car but probably wasn't honked noisily at Malcolm, expressing its clear dismay that it had been deprived of its kill. It roared away, its engine growling and tires squealing. The traffic began to pick up again. The music of the club started to drown out the screams of rubber on asphalt and the crunch of metal on metal at high speeds. That dark sultry voice that sung of death and such pain and sorrow that to hear it was to wish to end it all yourself began to call to Malcolm once more.

Looking back over his shoulder with an annoyed frown, Malcolm looked back toward the nightclub as he continued walking. Given that his entire life had seemed surreal until tonight, the sights he'd seen so far tonight hadn't phased him much yet. A part of him was convinced that he was having a very odd dream, similar to the kind he'd had when he'd eaten that three month-old meatloaf a while back.

Walking with a limp toward the nightclub, he was reminded of a more mournful version of Portishead by the music he heard oozing and crawling out from the nightclub to meet his ears, only much more so. Also, there was...an undefinable quality that attracted him so strongly. Perhaps he knew what it was, and didn't want to admit it to himself.

Either way, his limping footsteps found himself moving toward the line leading into the nightclub, eyeing the various sorts waiting in line.

[B4UTRUST]

Advancement

Jason:

Following the quick fight with the thugs trying to kidnap the hooker he had decided to press his luck and start asking questions. He lost count, as he had done so many nights before, of how many times he had flashed his wife's picture, told them her description, her name, only to recieve the same disinterested, unknowing look. False lead after false lead had begun to sink his spirits once more when he fell onto a new one.

Someone had give him a spark of hope, a feeble glimmer that she was here, she was close. He had been directed to Caliban's Cavern, a nightclub that was currently hosting the hottest act in the city. The informer had made the passing comment that his wife looked a lot like one of the waitresses there. It was his only lead at the moment and the best one he had had all night. And even if she wasn't there, he rationalized he could ask some more and at least sit down for a few and get a beer and clear his head. This entire city was messing with his mind. Everywhere he turned he was confronted by every darker aspect of humanity and of himself. It was all a man could do to resist so much.


Malcom:

The Siren's song had called him once more, drawn him in. It was mesmerizing, drawing him in and keeping him there. It was a song of deep sorrow, of loss, of pain and mourning. He followed it and ended up inside the club he had seen earlier. A crowd had formed around the raised stage and a small band was playing. The stage was darkened except one single spotlight from directly overhead. It shown down on the woman at the microphone.

She was beautiful, stunning even. Raven haired and pale of skin, she gripped the mic like it was a lifeline, clutching it so hard her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were closed as she searched her soul for the words she sang, drawing on her feelings, her anguish, her own life to make her audience feel what she felt.

It transfixed him, held him. Even as he watched, the groupies pressed closer to the stage, wanting to be within touching distance of their idol. Some moaned in pain, others in ecstacy. They crowded around, vying for her love, her attention. Tears flowed freely and weeping came as quickly as the panted breath. It was building up to a boiling point, the emotions raging across the crowd.


Samantha:

The new clothes had refreshed her spirits and made her feel a lot better. Her old clothes were in a plastic bag she carried with her, the syringe she had been given was in her pocket. She had been careful so far not to let it accidently stick her, having little desire to find out just what that glowing ichor would do to her.

She had been tired when she had woken up, and scared. But that had changed. She felt full of life now, energetic and ready to get up and go. And she wanted to go dance. The need to hit a club consumed her and overwhelmed her. The need to feel that electric beat of music, the press of the crowd, the movement of bodies given over to sound.

She found herself just inside the club, listening to the lamentable lyrics of Rossignol. An inkling at the back of her mind told her something wasn't right here, with her, with this place and she knew she felt different somehow.


Matthew:

His attempts to pry into the arms market of the Mad City had thus far proven mostly fruitless. He had found numerous examples of his company's weapons and systems in this place, but couldn't find anyone who could give him solid proof of their supplying it. He was disappointed but still continued his search. He would have to do some serious background work to find what he needed.

In the meantime he had started wandering through this city again, exploring it. He ended up in an area that looked to be more populated then the one he had came in at. It was full of restraunts and shops, of clubs and bars and places to see and be seen. Crowds were everywhere.

[frigidmagi]

Jason:

Following the quick fight with the thugs trying to kidnap the hooker he had decided to press his luck and start asking questions. He lost count, as he had done so many nights before, of how many times he had flashed his wife's picture, told them her description, her name, only to recieve the same disinterested, unknowing look. False lead after false lead had begun to sink his spirits once more when he fell onto a new one.

Someone had give him a spark of hope, a feeble glimmer that she was here, she was close. He had been directed to Caliban's Cavern, a nightclub that was currently hosting the hottest act in the city. The informer had made the passing comment that his wife looked a lot like one of the waitresses there. It was his only lead at the moment and the best one he had had all night. And even if she wasn't there, he rationalized he could ask some more and at least sit down for a few and get a beer and clear his head. This entire city was messing with his mind. Everywhere he turned he was confronted by every darker aspect of humanity and of himself. It was all a man could do to resist so much.

Having no other leads Jason went to the Night Club... He decided to try getting in through the front door first, just on the off chance it would work.

Don't think they'll let a shabby looking guy like me in but I got all night. Jason thought to himself while missing his badge. If he was still a cop he could have cut to the head of the line, flashed it and got in and got right back to looking. Course if he still was a cop he wouldn't be able to devote his time to finding her.

Everything is a trade off Came an errant thought has he got closer to the head of the line.

[rhoenix]

It transfixed him, held him. Even as he watched, the groupies pressed closer to the stage, wanting to be within touching distance of their idol. Some moaned in pain, others in ecstacy. They crowded around, vying for her love, her attention. Tears flowed freely and weeping came as quickly as they panted for breath. It was building up to a boiling point, the emotions raging across the crowd.

It had been many years since Malcolm had been anywhere near a nightclub, let alone one with live music - even then, it wasn't as...utterly transfixing as this was.

If you were to talk Malcolm some time from now and ask him what it was tha attracted him to this particular nightclub, with the singer sounding like her voice was bleeding mournfully and exquisitely into the microphone, he wouldn't have been able to tell you coherently. He had heard the phrase from a cynical writer friend of his that "Writing was easy - all you had to slice open your flesh and bleed right onto the paper."

Well, that phrase was equally apt when it came to singing, it seemed. All the shadows of Malcolm's past began to gain corporeality in the depths of his mind, stirred up and fed by the sultry, and painfully beautiful songstress' voice. He was mesmerized and fascinated both, and he wasn't sure he could leave or even turn his attention away if he wanted to.