Dark Dealings (Open)

Participants: Jade Nguyen | open
Open/Closed: Open
Location(s): Abandoned warehouse, Suicide Slums
Time of Day: Midnight (one minute past, to be precise.)
Weather: Humid and overcast
Summary: Cheshire has been contacted by an unknown party, wishing to make use of her services.

She sat in the shadows, her lithe form little more than an inky outline in the darkness. Only her eyes were visible, and even then not frequently, catching the light of the waning moon, causing them to flash occasionally as she glanced from side to side, constantly observing her immediate surroundings. 'What for?' bore an answer beyond most, for she seemed totally alone. Long-nailed hands rested in her lap, though they lay close enough to the sheathed guom at her waist should the weapon be required – however unlikely that possibility was. Unless she found herself sufficiently outnumbered, her body alone was more than capable enough of dealing with interference.

Jade had taken up her position behind the abandoned building almost an hour prior to midnight, and she had undertaken numerous reconnaissance circuits in that time. Only when she was happy the dilapidated warehouse at the heart of the Suicide Slums was truly empty had she settled at the proposed meeting place, and had barely moved since, every sense alert despite her somewhat languid sitting position.

Quite who desired to meet Cheshire was unknown. As they so often did, her contact had used an alias, and had no doubt hired a third party to reach out to the infamous assassin, in order to give the individual wanting her services space- and indeed plausible deniability should their communication be tracked. She had her suspicions, but no concrete evidence had come to light – surprising, for it meant her to-be employer was as used to subterfuge as she was.

It had piqued her interest enough to go through with the meeting: usually, she preferred to know whose path she was crossing before doing so. However, at one minute past midnight, the alotted meeting time, the individual interested in hiring her was late. It would cost them dearly – her fee went up significantly when and if she was kept waiting.

Light enveloped his earthly form such that only the shadows of some lean frame where visible amidst a universe of glittering magnanimous light. The light of the mirror dimension, bold and all encompassing, phased in and out in hues of purple magenta then orange. Waves of light whisked lightly across a blissful air with glints and refractions of white and blue and red and green dotted the skies above and the void below, these, the mirrors of the world told stories and tales of grandeur, horror, love, and hate. He did so love these stories... To just, admire not from afar, but from entirely a close proximity. Watching love envelope in the thoughts and prayers of two teenagers, watching hate reign hellfire upon a broken marriage. It was bizarre and beautiful and something he wholly enjoyed. He’d sit for senseless hours, watching and waiting. Admiring life as though it were narrated by David Attenborough, watching the streams of time and life meander by with regaling stories of humanity. Green eyes fascinated by the embrace of young lovers, and the camaraderie of childhood friends, and the blissful delight of a father grilling steaks for the whole of some suburban cul de sac. Ogling sadly at the lives of others as his own waisted away, casting mirrors aside with the slight flick of his wrist as though they were apps on a tablet or undesirable suitors on tinder. Shallow glazed eyes brooding grimly, swipe left, a sad grimace at the sight of a more attractive physique, swipe left, disdain and admiration of a popular fellow encompassed by a troupe of comrades, swipe left, empathetic pity and pathetic identification with a solitary little girl struggling not to hear the screams of some very loud argument outside her door. Not all together okay with the latter sight, he pulled a few neighboring mirrors close, perusing through them like a shopping almanac. Finally settling on the fifth mirror, he reached in and plucked an old game boy color and a few cartridges, something he in fact enjoyed and took solace in as a boy. He haphazardly lobbed them through the girl’s mirror, understandably startling her. She looked at the trinkets with a frightened but intrigued curiosity, finally casting a gaze upon a looking glass above with some hazy bit of orange fading away into nothing but her own reflection.

Mirror Master had a knack for losing himself in these worlds he did not fully understand. Envy almost always tingled down his spine and twisted his thoughts, but they never did develop into hatred. No, he saw beauty and admired it, he never wished to destroy it, just have it. Have it and keep it all for himself. Time trickled by, and he’d hardly noticed. Before he knew it, it was already five minutes to midnight. ”CHRIST!! I’m gonna be late!!” The boss was a very punctual man, and expected his flunkies to be just the same. To kiss him off or make him look bad would be... Detrimental to one’s health. With that in mind, the shadowy form of Mirror Master folded into an almost pixelated looking wisp of light (a form of travel capable only in the Mirrorverse). The orange glow whizzed last a few reflections, desperately searching for Metropolis, and more specifically Suicide Slums. He wasn’t huge on Metropolis, honestly. Too American, you know? But, it was significantly safer than Gotham, and far more professional than Keystone or Central City.

Moonlight gleamed through shattered windows of that gaudy warehouse complex. The third party in question danced from reflection to reflection, clock striking from 12:01 to 12:02, but he made it. He could see the shadows of a more feminine form from his perch in the window, gleaming down like the glow of an omnipotent creature. The upper portion of his face was enveloped in shadows, such that only two tiny orange lights gleamed in the darkness, the size of a pen point, the lights hovering gracefully over a mischievous grin. His face danced between several reflective surfaces, before suddenly it appeared at the hilt of her sword. McCulloch delighted in being a real cheeky bastard, so he knew the perfect form of introduction. Her guom, a rather shiny and beautiful thing, suddenly glistened with the murky reflection of his grin, a Mirror Master sprung out of the hilt, the upper half of his body sprawling out from the sword and face to face with the assassin, the lower half narrowing unnaturally thin in still within the hilt’s reflection. ”’Ello, love! Ye’ must be Chesh-ear!” Cheshire’s face could gleam right back at her from the reflection of an orange visor over a green balaclava. It glowed with strange shapes and markings like something out of the cyberpunk genre. He leaned in close, in a purposeful attempt to be annoying. ”Mirror Master, at y’er service!” He offered a handshake with a sleazy grin. This was indeed a Mirror Master, but not the Mirror Master. No, he was smarter than that. Cheshire was an infamous A-Lister in the ranks of the assassin world, up there with Deadshot and Deathstroke, he’d have to be an idiot to get that close whilst being that annoying. No, this was one of his clones, a pawn and a punching bag for which she could do whatever she pleased to.

Three more Mirror Masters flickered in the room, like the screen of a television turning on. All dressed the same, each performing a different act. The first, hardly visible, was examining the structural integrity of the building. A finger pressed to lips as he gazed up at the ceiling with a mock intrigue. The second had a stick, and crouched on the troddened dusty cement floor, poking at the dirt doodling a few frowny faces into the sand. The final stood boastfully, hands on his hips and staring directly at his potential partner in crime. ”Lovely night f’er murder, ain’t it lass?” Mirror Master stood proud, a green overcoat fell from his shoulders and hovered just above his knees. It wasn’t leather, but the fabric was rather shiny, and accented with orange glowing lines. It had zippers and buckled in strange places, and all together looked like it was designed for a knock off matrix movie. Beneath his coat, it appeared as though his body was translucent orange glass, clear as crystal but shining a bright orange. A few black buckles were nestled over his chest, which was entire see through such that you could see the back end of his coat. He had black scarf wrapped around his neck and draped over the upper portion of his neck, covering bits of a green balaclava which was haphazardly draped over his neck. The balaclava revealed only his cheeky grin, for his eyes were veiled by that aforementioned orange visor which glinted in hues of vibrant orange. His pants were simply that same tight fitting translucent orange, his whole body like a beacon of light. He could afford to be garish like that, for he did not hunt or travel in the shadows. He had a black holster for twin mirror pistols Around his his waist, black knee pads over the translucent orange, and black shoulder pads on his coat. Finally he had a pair of black combat boots, with orange laces which shimmered like sunlight in the dark. Neon orange flashed between each individual Mirror Master as they made small talk one another and the fellow mercenary. ”G’yod... Ah tho’ the boss ‘ad class... This place is a real $#!thole, ay?” One of the clones let slip his opinion of this derelict corner of hell. Metropolis wasn’t usually this gaudy, but Suicide Slums was a bit more like Gotham. ”Tarpit’s g’yot molten goo dribblin’ everywhere he goes, but even ‘is pad ain’t as filthy as this cludget....” The second clone had a more disinterested tone, poking and prodding at the floor with his stick with very little amusement. ”Quit y’er yanmerin’, ye numpties! We g’yot business t’ attend t’!” The alpha Mirror Master gave a command and the others obeyed. ”Right.” The first agreed, glancing back from the ceiling to gleam back at Cheshire. ”Mm.” The second only grunted, doodling away without a care in the world. Now it was time to talk business. He had his good fun, but Evan was mainly here for the money. ”See, we’s go’ a job you an’ I! Assumin’ ye’ go’ the gumption....”

| Jade Nguyen |

Cheshire's patience wore thinner by the minute, her intrigue waning, becoming something more akin to frustration. Her lip curled in mild irritation as the abandoned warehouse remained empty, her presence still the only notable one. However, sharp and honed as her senses were, even she missed the minute glimmer of orange eyes in the reflective surfaces about the warehouse – two amber dots little bigger than a pen nib. Even if she had seen them, they were unlikely to immediately rouse her suspicion, to small and distant to be of any real note.

The face that appeared in the hilt of her sword was not quite as easy to dimiss. Though not focused on the metal that lay across her lap, the brief flicker of movement as a face passed across the polished surface was movement enough to warrant a glance, casting her gaze down just as the torso of a human male emerged from her weapon, grinning face in extremely close proximity to her own.

Many would have let out a shriek – a noise of discomfort – or bolted from their perch, hurling the item away from them. Jade did neither of those things. Though her green eyes widened and she bared her teeth, her body tensing slightly, she sat otherwise motionless as the strangely dressed man greeted her with an abnoxious pronunciation of her name, and revealed himself to be the 'Mirror Master.' A hand was extended toward her, ready to be shaken.

For a long moment, she remained totally still, stare fixated on his over-confident grin. Then, she moved so quickly it would have been hard for most to follow. A hand dropped to one of the small knives worn in the brace about her waist, and she unsheathed it in a practised, effortless motion. Twisting her upper body, she lashed out, dragging the blade in a deadly arc, cutting across the appirition's throat. Steel met flesh for a brief second, before the image seemed to shatter and disintigrate, as if she'd broken a mirror.

A mild hiss of confusion and irritation passed gritted teeth, as around the open space ahead of her three more of the same individual appeared – one examining the building pensively, another poking at dust and cement, while the third looked right at her, hands on hips, a safe distance away from her claws. Sliding from her perch, Jade landed in a neat crouch and remained low, eyes darting between the gaudily dressed arrivals.

”Lovely night f’er murder, ain’t it lass?”

“Just as well there are so many of you, then.” Jade's voice suggested unwavering confidence. However, in the back of her mind, she was prepared to bolt should further conflict ensue. Against an opponent of flesh and blood, she would have happily stood her ground. But against three individuals that seemed able to replicate themselves, appearing and vanishing in an instant? She wasn't about to combat individuals who had talents beyond her understanding.

She'd lived so long because she wasn't afraid to flee when the situation called for it.

It didn't seem that conflict was what the Mirror Master had in mind though. Rather than take offense at her killing the duplicate that had emerged from her sword, he seemed totally non-plussed, corralling his other twinned images with a few harsh words and asking Cheshire if she had the gumption to join him on a job.

A single brow raised. Was this her employer, the man that had reached out to her? It seemed possible, almost likely, though many seeking her skills didn't dare risk such a brazen introduction. “And what job is that?”

Evan McCulloch

He had expected that clone to die. It was expendable, a tool to toy with his new... Coworker? Whatever this relationship was or would he remained to be seen. The clone was meant to be hacked away, for it was merely an extension of his desire to irritate. He knew it was destined to die, but... It was strangely unnerving. It was always a trippy thing, watching yourself shatter into a million tiny fragments and fade away. Like dust, carried off with the wind. It was scary how finite everything was. Death is, universally, a touchy strange thing. How fast she sliced through his throat, how effortlessly and effective... He could’ve been there. That could’ve been him. He didn’t like that. For all that bravado, he was a coward and nothing more than a delinquent. His grin wavered, only slightly. But it was a momentary facial tick, and nothing more. A quick knee jerk reaction that, frankly, anyone would have upon seeing themselves dead in an instant. It soon phased, the grin returned full swing with a morbid chuckle at her quip, and with that it was back to business.

Right, business... Honestly, Evan viewed himself as a one man army. Which, he was. He never really understood why the boss wanted this third party in on the deal. He, that is, the boss, preferred discretion above all else, and was not one to have two roads lead back to him. What Evan did not understand, and his boss did, was that McCulloch was a foolhardy showboat. He’d been sent to off petty mobsters, a few spirited anarchists, and small time gangbangers, but nothing on the level of this current mission. The boss truly didn’t trust him, he was good, but this was the Mirror Master’s first high caliber commission. For that, a more... Experienced and professional hand was desired.

”And what job is that?”

”Listen.... Ah’ thou’ this part was a wee bit melodramatic. But th’ boss sucks up mela’drama like a bloody vampire, so enjoy th’ show, deary~”
A Toccata into Blood Soaked Darkness - By MaijinBlue

You’ve made it this far, but you’ve made a grave mistake; for the coming tale will make you shiver and shake. Lo a plot which twists and writhes, one of monsters and ghouls which terrorize. It’s not a tale for the faint of heart, and reading further, well, that wouldn’t be smart. You carry on despite what I’ve warned, and so I say with great forlorn... Dark dealings are what lie ahead, you should have headed what I said..... Now we’re here at daylights end, midnight strikes and so your mind will bend. Though my efforts were in vain, one question still remains. Can you dig it?

Evan McCulloch and his two clones gazed off wistfully into the shadows in an almost scripted manner. Like some hammy horror flick from the fifties, starring Vincent Price, feigning morose features casting a grim ire off into the distance. Glass, and water, and other reflective surfaces around the room suddenly shimmered and warped. Like soft tidal waves, wafting in the breeze the reflective surfaces oscillated in an utterly alien sort of way, and out of that glass and those other shiny surfaces cane a sudden smog. Colorful puffs of smoke bellowing out, drifting silently across the floor and slowly rising like lava. It drifted across the floor, waves of smoke washing across every surface. Orange and green steam sparkling in some psychedelic magic. It danced across feet, and slithered around the legs, rising high, slow and gentle like a lover’s kiss. Glowing hues of apricot and lime blanketing the air with a smoldering almighty embrace. An effervescent chill embracing the Mirror Masters and attempting a cold and frigid hug to Cheshire. It coiled around McCulloch like an anaconda, with dramatic flourishes twisting and writhing out into the air.

A fourth Mirror Master crept out from an old bottle on the floor, lurching out like a zombie; haunched and horrific. He held a massive vanity, fingers cooled around it’s edges dragging out in an almost painful looking display. The fourth clone limped slowly towards the center of the room, steps which were drawn out like a slow an ominous crawl. Smog and smoke spiraling all around him, he crawled on. His three brothers casting some vacant expressionless glares off to him, he crawled on. Crawling zombie like steps forwards until finally, he reached the center of the room. He firmly planted the mirror such that it faced Cheshire, leering at her from a corner of the oversized vanity. At first, it was only her. Her looking back at her. A mere reflection. But then came a voice. Commanding and bold like God, or more appropriately some devil.

“The answers you seek will soon become clearer. There’s nothing to fear. Come, gaze into the mirror.”

Green haze spiraled in her glimmering reflection. Swirling madness with sparkling lights shimmered like the glint of star shine. Thunder cracked and lightning crackled within the mist, haze guiding an image further downward. Following a spiraling trail, like a trodden path of noxious smoke, showing images of castles and buildings. Cobblestone towers and steel girders, rising high above a crimson skyline. The crashing roar of lightning pierced through smog once more, fumes fading the stone pillars and iron obelisks away. Smoldering clouds took over once again, the hazy reflection of gaudy clouds bubbling like molten broth took shape once more. Horrific eyes, red like blood and with tears of ebony gazed back. Snaggletoothed fangs creeped on in grim curiosity, fangs caked in tar drooling and ogling on in a hunger for the onlookers looking in. The image slithered past them, oscillating through the horror like a centipede scuttling through logs of rotting oak. The voice creeped in through the darkness, echoing through swirling clouds of madness with all the audacity of an omniscient eldritch creature. "You will face a band of brigands. A cavalcade of swashbuckling cavaliers." The image quickly scuttled through colorful thunder and rain, thrashing through random refractions of the mirror dimension as though it were in some frantic desperation to escape. It whirled through exploding clouds of chartreuse and tangerine, both colors seemingly at war for dominance. Soon the image thrashed it’s way through, trickling down as rain. Rain which displayed the visage off a French sea vessel smoldering in flame and sinking ever downwards into the Ivey depths of Davy Jones’ locker. Indecipherable changing echoed in its wake, with various Cold War era weapons waved through the air in some vile victory. "Wafting through the tides of the Sindhu Sagar is a cancer. A cancer to commerce, and a pestilence ‘pon my empire. Pirates of Somalia do their dance of death in the Arabian Sea, and disrupt my dealings in Syria, Qurac, and Kyran.” Bodies spring up from the water, floating lifelessly, blood in the water. The image went away, whisked off in a haze. ”Bring me the head of their captain, Absame Alhazred.” The haze cascaded into a cresndo is explosive colors, booming with magnanimous splendor. One color was at king last victorious, and it was green. A mountain of green. Cash. American dollar bills stacked high, and fluttering off in a brisk chill. "You will be rewarded handsomely for your trifles.” Finally, the image settled a hideous creature. It’s face was rotund and smeared in some foul grease. It’s teeth were jagged and sharp, like the spikes of an urchin attached haphazardly to human gums. The guns were black as tar, and oozed a grotesque liquid which looked sticky but also slimy. The creature’s eyes looked black and sullen, like he’d been dead for centuries, and his nose was crooked and sharp. A monocle nestled firmly between the nose and right eye, this was Oswald Cobblepot. The hideous penguin man of Gotham. Profusely evil but oh so rich. His eyes burnt with hatred, and his lips pursed with some horrid sexual perversions. "But, be warned. This particular band of brigands are the most licentious creatures the Guardafai Channel’s ever known.” The gaudy image of the Penguin faded away, and the mirror was peaceful. A serenity like before, only Cheshire’s reflection gazing back. The smog cleared, and the air lifted, leaving only the Mirror Master’s anxious to see if this playful professional was interested.

| Jade Nguyen |