Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
Her name was Umbrella. She was a professional spy, hitwoman, underworld expert, lethal fighter, and a member of one of the most dangerous collection of spooks and spec-ops organizations ever to be put together on the face of Gaia. A nasty, evil woman with cold eyes and a dark heart.
There was also a man with a hand-cannon pointed at her forehead, noted this nasty young woman.
Pale blue eyes blearily peered first at barrel of the gun, then the gun itself. The arm holding it. A blurry visage of a man in a leather jacket with scruffy hair, scars, and possibly the ugliest face known to man was threatening her. She couldn't make out the words he was yelling between unfamiliar Sonoran accent, loud music playing at a neon jukebox, several other voices egging him on to 'Shoot the crazy bitch'. What's up with her vision?
Her right hand brushed against a glass. Memories of the last hour or so finally knitted themselves back together as adrenaline took the edge off the booze burning though her veins. A glass sat near her right hand, two-thirds empty bottle of vodka currently on it's side and pooling on the slightly pitted and decaying wooden table. The table was always tilted. The fallen bottle was the fault of the guy trying to intimidate her.
Mac's Bar was one of many located in the crime ridden section of Sonora, and it attracted the usual clientele. Drug dealers, ladies and gentlemen of the night, thugs. A place to find cheap thrills and cheap drinks under cover of rusty expanses of dark metal, to try to forget one's misery, or maybe to escape chill. The bar's owner, Mac, stood watching. His bar was old, with wooden tables, an actual proper bar with stools and a mirror to watch one's back with. Everything was rotting because he didn't have money to fix anything or to move away.
And people who came in only cared for violence, booze, or drugs. Mac was portly in his old age. Long beard, no hair left, nose almost flat from too many youthful beatings. He smoked too much and drank too much, but he had big hands. Most importantly he knew from his years as a gangster and his years as a bartender to gangsters how to tell who's a tough and who's the genuine thing.
"Sikorsky. Put the gun away. Ain't gonna end well. Rest of ya sit down."
The blonde man, Sikorsky, was a pretty skinny guy, early twenties. Drug dealer, connections by blood to a fairly well regarded and ruthless distributor. The man's father was ruthless, a former hitman before he had kids. He paid well, both corrupt cops and his underlings. Sikorsky's dad was smart and tactful and kept the mess low. Drugs were fairly priced.
Sikorsky was a spoiled brat that used his family name and a gaudy pistol to soothe his feelings of inadequacy by lashing out after drinking too much and getting rejected by basically every woman in the bar. One of Sikorsky's lackeys was a painfully stupid meathead that liked to think he was a hitman. In reality he was just a stupid kneecap breaker and meat shield that Sikorsky would hide behind when things got rough.
That man, known as 'Club' for his tendency to use brawn and blunt force trauma to solve problems, had no subtlety. It's why when Umbrella managed to vaguely slur out her rejection of Sikorsky's advances and shove him off of her, Club had tried to grab the Turk by her fur-lined purple coat and haul her off her feet.
Club was on the floor screaming and clutching his right hand. Blood was everywhere, not the least of which was staining Umbrella's signature coat. A little was on her cheek. It stood out brilliantly against porcelain skin. Club's hand was slashed to ribbons. Big oaf hadn't felt the razor blades in Umbrella's coat collar until it was too late.
Umbrella stood up. Her cheeks red from alcohol as well as blood, she let out a small sigh. If there was one thing that worked and contributed to Mac's popularity, it was the sturdy geothermal heaters that kept the place toasty. /They/ were the one thing that was kept pristine. Really, Mac poured too much money into it. The smell was god-awful, like the worst mix of kerosene and rotten eggs.
It reminded her of Wall Market. Of Midgar. Of Gaia and men and women in clandestine dark suits. Umbrella had spent the time since arriving taking up Caius' advice. She'd picked pockets and mugged fools in back alleyways until she had the money for a hotel room with a hot shower whose employees didn't ask questions. Then she'd secured what little hardware she had in the safe, put up enough tripwire spring-razors to kill ten men, rigged up a camera or two to her spec-ops PHS, put on her coat and went to get a sense of the local underground.
Her work had borne fruit. It only took one beating and two broken legs to learn where to find a drink, to find a little work, and to get warm. Mac's was it. She liked Mac's and Mac. They hadn't said much to each other beyond what to drink and where the warmest seat was. Umbrella tipped well, was polite, but kept to herself. She didn't stare but she watched everyone. Always watching. Even when she was half collapsed on the table the sloshed woman was aware.
Sikorsky looked away from Umbrella and to Mac at his outburst. Bloodshot eyes bored into the man. Mac ignored how Sikorsky yelled just like Umbrella ignored it. Mac's eyes looked to the spot where Umbrella had been. A few more points for the mysterious black-suited woman with a gangster's tattoo. He wondered who'd kill the other if he was forty years younger. Had he moved that fast, that quietly? Mac smiled, rotting teeth on display. He took a pull from a bottle under the counter. Good stuff from the last job he ever did as a murderer. It felt right. For a second the pale blues of Umbrella met with Mac's weathered grey. Both decided right then they liked each other.
"Dumpster's out back. Break anything and ya pay. Cleanup's twice your tab." Mac said. Sikorsky blinked.
The scent of vodka tickled Sikorsky's nose. He turned back to where Umbrella had been sitting and tried to squeeze the trigger. Nothing. No click. No bang. Nothing.
"Mmmph...appreciate it, Grandpa Mac. Too much trash stinking up your lovely bar."
Sikorsky's gun hit the table. The man screamed as he stared at his own hand still clutching it. A shadow on wobbly legs stood behind. She leaned on her trick weapon, not realizing she was inadvertently sawing into the floor with the flechette-tip that had emerged from it. It was red now too. All instinct and training, she'd acted. Casually she pulled it up, held the it sideways, and blearily stared.
"Was that me?" Came Umbrella's voice, her head tilted, as she stared at the seven other members of Sikorsky's posse. Seven guns clicked and took aim.
Mac grunted, smacked his forehead, and sat down as he began to chug. His beard fluttered as the bullets started flying. The noise could be heard five buildings down.
The city was the closest to Midgar she was going to get. The climate was cold and the weather snowy, but it still had the dark, greasy feel of Midgar. The technological sophistication seemed near enough to her favorite city but it lacked the ethereal magic. No matter what, nothing would take the place of her Midgar. And just like the iron jungle, it held the good, bad, and the ugly of locales here. But Cissnei judged none of it. There was a order in a dog eat dog world. Just don’t be at the bottom of the food chain.
Speaking of, Cissnei knew of Mac’s Bar well enough. It was endearingly shady with its lopsided building and grungy atmosphere. The place housed more bad than good, but at least there was an unspoken treatise upon its property. And even with the unspoken treatise, there was some who rudely disrupted poor Mac’s bar with their pettiness. Usually Mac could get it back under control. Sometimes he couldn’t. After all, the best option could be to just sit and wait for the disputing parties to kill each other. Probably did the world a favor.
In a way, it reminded Cissnei even more of the small bar in the slums that her and her comrades found sanctuary.
So, tonight she was feeling particularly nostalgic. Her suit was finally cleaned and pressed. She wore it proudly in the streets. The skies were darkening and the oily yellow street lights were kicking on. The sidewalks were salted to try to keep the ice and snow away but it left a speckling of dirty white on the walkway. But Cissnei took no note of it, as she made her way to Mac’s. Her work boots crunched the salt and dirt beneath her.
Cissnei got to the door of the rundown shack and heard a male screaming coming from the inside. It was the sound of crying seal, at least she thought so. After a moment, she gave a shrug. Still not completely out of the ordinary for this place. Cissnei wondered if this was where she really wanted to find reprieve for the day. A moment longer, and she knew someone would make the screaming stop eventually.
And eventually, Club did stop whimpering.
But Cissnei walked in and felt slightly annoyed that yet another man started screaming. What murder opera did she walk into tonight? She felt her blood pumping and as she shoved the stuck door open, she walked into a man staring at his own disembodied hand, and a crowd of seven pointing guns at what appeared to be a young lady. There was something familiar about her. The shadows obscured her, making it hard in this lighting to make her out. But Umbrella’s voice was recognizable enough. The lilting taunt seemed to set off a hair trigger.
The room exploded into a blitz. Cissnei went from not caring, to carrying just a little more. She summoned the dark magic of the gravity materia to her aid. A black-purple orb appeared between the men and Umbrella. It caught and crushed the bullets sprayed in her direction. What bullets it did not catch, seemed to slow at the reversal of gravity and skittered lazily across the bar.
Cissnei dropped her spell, and casually walked up to one of the guys and tapped him on the shoulder. Confused, he looked at where the gravity ball used to be to the small redhead. “Five dollars for a pint! Can you believe it?!” She hummed as he turned more towards her.
His face promptly found her fist. His nose spirited blood. He dropped his gun to snatch at his broken nose, eyes watering. Cissnei rolled for the gun, dodging a spray of bullets in her direction. She pulled the trigger on the glock, and took out the kneecap of the one that dared to shoot her her.
As she came back round to her feet, she used her momentum to lunge her form into one of the thinner and smaller gang members. He fell flat on his back with an oof. Cissnei knocked the wind out of him as she catapulted off his sternum and on to a table. The guns were partly trained on her. Some were still wary of Umbrella as well. Cissnei grinned. At least she managed to form some sort of chaos to split their attention.
She reached along her belt and removed one of the grenades from it. Rude had taught her how to make some minor explosives, and it was not until she reached Sonora could she get her hands on what she needed. Her finger slipped through the pin. Her other hand pointed her gun at the men before her. “Now listen here. You take your little paper gangster of a boss and leave quietly.” She pointed her gun at Sikorsky. “Shoot me and this pin here slips. You’ll go down with me. Mr. Mac here would get some nice insurance money, though.” She winked at Mac. “You move wrong and I’ll shoot you to death.” She hissed the last word. The greasy lighting was bringing the devil out of her.
Before Umbrella even had a chance to flick open her namesake's shielding folds or dive for something cover-like in quality, a young woman in a fine pressed dark suit had an answer for her very full-metal-jacket shaped problems. Even if they were punks, sheer volume of fire had a certain quality.
Which was probably good, because the cold eyes of the young woman filled with the kind of light a normal person might have for a few brief moments. Recognition. She /knew/ this woman. Had seen her. But where!?
As the man's nose imploded from a punch that was simply unfair coming from the tiny-statured woman, it hit the pale skinned hitwoman. She knew the face from a file and from a certain Boss' words. And she'd know that particular suit better than anyone, as she was clad in its twin.
Umbrella juxtaposed Cissnei with pale skin, greasy dark hair, tattoo and gang-banger fur coat, but they shared a suit, professionalism underneath their differences. It was what made the Turks the Turks: each capable of their own unique brands of deadly skullduggery alone, but it was together that they truly shined.
Finally Tseng's smooth voice popped into her head. A redhead. Beneath booze and the memory-holes of her transportation here, it worked its way through.
This was her Big Sister. Her aniki, her family not through blood but by the spilling of it. They were Turks. Her senses cleared and she was stone cold sober for a few seconds.
Her smile was that of a serpent's. In the span of mere breaths, Cissnei had shown her skill. To smash a man's face, take a gun, kneecap and then knock a man to the table? It was brutal and a treat for Umbrella to see her Big Sister at work.
Umbrella gave Cissnei a look of pure malicious joy as she threatened Sikorsky and his men. They all hesitated. Tension sat in the air, fear was palpable. Sikorsky was looking way too pale. He was giving Umbrella a run for her money.
"A...ahh Boss maybe..."
"Bunch of black-suited crazy bi..."
The insults started, as they all looked to each other. Part in fear, part in loss of their leader, who was trembling from blood loss and the gun and grenade.
Then there was the ripping sound. The gangster that had insulted Cissnei and Umbrella fell, shoulder more torn than cut. He too screamed. Umbrella gave her now bloodied namesake a good spin. She cared little that she was getting red on her other cheek. Thud. The man fell.
"Fun fact gentlemen. You're all in the perfect range. A grenade of that type is less lethal in direct proximity. My new Big Sister would be ribbons. You all will be paste. ...I'm up for pasta."
The group of wanna-be's fled. There were wails that sounded like they came from ten year olds. Soaked pants, amongst other things, were common as they all fled with their boss in tow. Bodies, including Club's chunky one, were dragged out.
A beat of silence, and then Big Mac laughed loud.
"Bar's closin' early. My old heart's beating again." The rough man had a blush to his cheeks. A nod of approval to the two women, and he was locking the doors. Then, he made off towards a cellar.
"Open bar. For you, Miss Red. Miss Greasy there's cut off for the night."
Thunk went the cellar door. It was just Cissnei, Umbrella, an empty bar and the dismal aftermath.
Umbrella was absolutely /starry eyed/. This was, to her, someone on par with her oldest 'Brothers' Reno and Rude.
"That was...Big Sister!" It was said with the words for a fellow gang member. The pure warmth from her previously ice cold words was enough to heat half of Midgar.
"You're her, aren't you? Big Sister Cissnei! I'm not dreaming? You're...even better than Boss said!" Was she no longer alone?
Heedless of blood, gun, or grenade, she reached out with a pale hand and furred coat-cuff to the shorter young woman as if she were glass that would break or a mirage that would have faded if touched.
Cissnei looked to Umbrella to check to see if she was ok. The glee in her eyes told Cissnei all she needed to know. Umbrella was taking much pleasure in this play. It was the sure sign of a Turk during business hours. Ochre eyes turned toward Sikorsky, they were cold, but full of light. She could smell the fear in the room, and she loved it. She could feel it fueling her courage and she stood a little taller. The greasy lamp light from outside caused her shadow on the wall to run long. An eerie harbinger of the devil woman.
And look at that. When men were scared and helpless, they resorted to barking and name calling. Absolutely, useless under pressure. Most likely because they were used to not having any resistance. But Cissnei and Umbrella were the real deal. Both were professional and ready to kill anyone they met when necessary.
But, Cissnei had a different edge. She was not afraid to die.
Cissnei’s hard gaze never left the boss as if daring him to shoot. Daring him stir up the trouble. Please. Make it fun for her.
Umbrella cleanly dropped another man. The smell of blood began to now rise to mingle with the fear. Cissnei gave a curt, mirthless smile as Umbrella properly explained the situation to them. This place went from gangster paradise to the Lilliths’ sanctuary.
There was a silence that swelled in the room.
Then, in a mass hysteria, the hostility stopped, and they went scrambling for the door.
As the last guy reached the door, she shot the door frame, causing him to jump and regain another burst of speeds. Ooops. Her finger slipped.
Cissnei stood on the table, her head tilted to the side and her eyes looking up at the ceiling as if she expected this to happen. The most boring outcome, but probably the best-case scenario. When the door shut on their asses, Cissnei gave a sigh, and placed the grenade back on her belt. She hopped off the table with a thud and threw the weapon on the floor. “You think they could run with a little more decency.” She huffed, not particularly pleased with the scent of urine that was amplified by Mac’s heaters.
She looked up and gave Mac a wink. “I aim to please.” She hummed to him, before taking a seat at the counter. “Tennessee Honey!” She shouted as he made his way to the cellar.
Cissnei took in Umbrella’s glow. She leaned along the counter to try to find something more familiar about her. She was the girl from the slums. The one that she tried to protect, as well as her mother. But, there was something in the way that she spoke. “Eri-chan. What are doing in a place like this?” She hummed warmly, looking the dark-haired lady over.
“I am indeed here! I think…” She tapped her chin in thought. Then, she reached out and took Umbrella’s hand and looked into her eyes. A reassurance. “Boss?”
Cissnei waved her other hand dismissively. “More importantly, are you okay? None of this is your blood, is it?” Cissnei felt her mother hen swell, and she took out a handkerchief from her inside breast pocket. She leaned forward and began cleaning the blood off Umbrella’s cheek. “What did they want?”
Booze had this bad habit of introducing a bit of honesty into Umbrella. As did talking with her fellow Turks, really. It was safety, the only people she could let her guard down around. And the aftermath of all that violence, and Cissnei's performance, had the half-sloshed woman slowly coming down off of the adrenaline high.
Big Mac was a bit like a ghost himself when he wanted to be, as any former hitman or discrete barman tended to be. A feat, to be sure, for an older guy at his weight class. One drink (not for you Umbrella!) and he was back down the cellar. He'd 'accidentally' left the bottle out, too.
A brow raised. Then Umbrella laughed lowly. "A girl has to eat. And the Company, as far as I've found so far, isn't around to cut checks. So, standard operating procedure: gather information, acquire assets, gear, and contacts. Maybe get a job or three." Her eyes brightened up a smidge more.
A finger was lifted, then crooked a few times for emphasis.
"Third dive I stumble into, I leave an impression on some wannabee's who are going to bark all across the underworld grapevine If I'm any judge, I get to see a legendary Turk in action, /and/ I get to feel like I'm home again. That's good for you, finding places that remind you of where you came from. Keeps you humble. Wouldn't do for us to lose our caution, our instincts, and start acting like cocky SOLDIER's."
Umbrella was leaning by now quite a bit. Actually, leaning was the wrong word. She was trying to basically drape herself against Cissnei's shoulder like some kind of cat. This more manifested in vague flopping like a fish towards the other woman's shoulder, and if left unavoided, one pale cheek sliding down the shoulder of that suit.
It was complete with window-sliding sound effects.
Oh, but then came the handkerchief. She went up like a tree, ramrod straight, leaning back into the cleanup. This was...well, far too familiar. Didn't someone else do this? So long ago...
A vision flashed through her head.
~Honeybee Inn~
A young Erina Clause lay sprawled out on a bed, ignoring the sounds and lights of the Inn. A figure in that garish outfit common to the place had a small frown on her face, concern in her eyes.
"You got caught again, didn't you? Eri-chan, you're worrying me. Here..." A smooch to the young girl's cheek, and that soft handkerchief.
"I love you Mom."
"I love you too, my clever little Eri."
~Big Mac's~
She shook her head, and touched her temples.
"You're too nice Big Ciss. I'm fine." There it was. The nickname. Umbrella had already decided.
"That Sikorsky was hitting on every woman here, for the last three days supposedly. Brat kid of some higher up on the local mafia train." Shrug. "Couldn't take rejection."
Then she turned more properly to Cissnei. "Where's Boss Tseng? I talked with a reliable source of information, a Mister Caius. Acted like a SOLDIER, eyes like us. Who's after you? Where are the others?" Her tone dropped the familiar, she was slowly starting to 'clock in', as it were. And she let the worry touch her voice and eyes too. Emotions, for all her robotic appearance at times, could be useful.
Cissnei gave a nod to Big Mac for the glass and alcohol. The man knew how to read a situation. She had to give him some props for that as he disappeared once more. However, she did not reach for her glass. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on Umbrella.
Umbrella was under the control of alcohol at this point. And though she would feel tipsy now, Cissnei had a feeling the young lady was going to feel much worse in the morning. She did not move away as Umbrella leaned into her. Once the cheek was wiped clean, Cissnei pulled back and tossed the handkerchief on the counter. It was certainly stained with brown-red coloring, but Cissnei was sure she could bleach it out later.
“You’re right. The company is not here, nor its executives.” Cissnei gave a sad smile. “But they abandoned me once already. I’ve had longer to adapt than you to it.” She gave Umbrella a good pat on the shoulder. “You don’t have to revert back to the old ways of your life.” Cissnei knew that those survival strategies are best known to her. “I’ve decided to start an investigative agency. Perhaps broker information on the side. Do you want in? It does seem to follow the standard operating procedure you’ve laid out.” Cissnei gave another crack of a smile. “No need for…” And Cissnei made her own finger crook gesture to mimic Umbrella.
She pushed herself up, causing the stool screeching across the wooden floor. Cissnei padded around the bar to find a pint mug and filled it with water. She purposely put it down in front of the dark-haired woman. “You’re not fine. Drink up or you’ll find yourself worse for wear in the morning.” Cissnei found a stool old Mac used and pulled it up closer to the bar to sit across from the other Turk. “Heavens no. I would rather die than be considered a SOLDIER.” Cissnei nose wrinkled up at the thought. “But those wannabe’s ARE going to bark. His family are real gangsters. That is the only reason I didn’t kill him.” She told Umbrella firmly her eyes finally now going to the glass Big Mac laid out to her. Politics were big in the gangster world. Hopefully, Cissnei could salvage this strain without resorting to a bloodbath. Cissnei took a long drag from the glass before putting it back down.
She shook her head. “It’s possible the head of the local mafia will now seek vengeance against us, regardless of our humbled generosity.” Cissnei said that as if letting someone live, instead of die, was generous for what Sikorsky did. "We will have to think on proper tact to restore order to avoid that situation…or at least disperse it.” Cissnei was not averse to fighting.
“I don’t know where Tseng went.” Her eyes went hard for a moment. She was not quite happy with him for abandoning her. She needed him to answer questions. “But when I find him…I hope for him to clear something up.”
She then raised a brow at the name Caius. “So, you met him? He…only knows the first half of my story. He must be confused. No one is after me anymore. Not currently and not here anyway. Except for maybe this mafia now,” she reached out and poked Umbrella in the nose for having a part of THAT situation. “But, in the past, there were two whole squads of Turks. The executives we protected and covered for found we were…too powerful for them to handle. Despite our loyalty to them, they feared us because we knew too many of their dark secrets. Then, when we refused to hunt the father of the Turks and kill him, they doubled their efforts to hunt us down and try to kill us. But, through wit and quick action, Tseng and Rufus were able to fake our deaths during an Avalanche fight. It is thanks to them we were able to scatter and remain alive. And it showed us that even if we are loyal to the company, we are more loyal to each other. But it looks like you were hired on after my defection. I thought you were working for the Don?”
Cissnei simplified the long story. No need to get winded right away. “As for the others, I do not know where they are scattered to. I believe I met a few, but I lost contact with them. And this new world seems to mess with your memories.”
Tomorrow was, frankly, going to be not fun. Luckily Cissnei was here to give a bit of advice to the second-newest of the Turks! One of which was the rather forceful command to devour some water. With a frown towards it, she finally heeded such, and downed it quickly. Sluuuuuuurp!
"Alright alright Big Ciss..." For a Turk-slash-Gangster, she fell into the 'little sister' role pretty quick.
She even turned it upside down and put it on the counter. The dark haired woman looked proud of this fact. To have someone /care/ so much felt nice.
Umbrella sighed though. The water, and the subsequent pint of said liquid, was helping her sober up a bit. There was a frown forming on her mouth. Her laugh was bitter.
"Would it be so much to ask that we get somebody cutting checks that appreciates us? I swear, executives don't have any loyalty that isn't green! It's pathetic. I'd ask how they sleep at night, but I'm sure the piles of cash help." Once introduced to the idea, it all makes /too/ much sense. Why wouldn't they cut off a bunch of well trained spooks?
"But as long as we all are alive and have each other, we'll be fine."
Speaking of fine, Umbrella didn't hesitate on the idea. "I need to eat, and going independent in this town would take a while. Deal. ...One thing though. You're acting like I ever stopped in the first place. Corneo's enemies set me up, got me shot. So I joined the Turks. We're Family." The woman meant it in both senses of the word. Truly she looked at them as part gang, part not-blood relatives.
In short, Umbrella was a weirdo.
As for the gangster situation? She actually smiled. While rubbing her temple, the headache was starting to kick in. Cue rapid water chugging.
"Good. Things would be boring without a bit of trouble coming after us. Besides, look at it as getting contacts. You'll need someone with underworld ties if you're going to play Miss Straight and Narrow. So...we find out the ganger culture, do or destroy whatever soothes their egos, then start the information brokering." The young woman had confidence. She almost seemed to relish the thought of having real mafia members after her.
The nose-poke was met with an eye sparkle!
"...The president's son? So, in theory, we have at least one suit that might be an ally if they show up. Looks like we need to make finding the Boss and Rufus a priority. I'll hold him down if you want to punch him. Tseng, I mean." Nod nod nod. That sounded like Turk justice to her.
"Mmm. Yup, I was one of his hitpeople and 'thing getter' for a while. I was apparently too good at it, pissed someone off. The usual sob story of betrayal. I'm happy with how it turned out though. Corneo's a creep." Spit.
"Sounds like you've been through a lot, Big Ciss. We should keep our eyes out for AVALANCHE too. They're still operating. Supposedly there was some plan in the works to get rid of them..but no one gave me the details yet." She shrugged. 'need to know', and all.
"Did you find a place to stay? The hotels around here are like coffins."
Cissnei smiled at the upside-down glass on the table. Seemed Umbrella drank often and enough. Maybe even competition that required proof of the empty mug. At least this was water. She was quite sure Umbrella could drink her under the table.
Cissnei gave her own dry laugh. “You aren’t wrong. But I don’t really think it’s the green. They are loyal to themselves and their hobbies, really. They just happen to have money on top of that.” Cissnei made a gesture and rolled her eyes as if she had had this discussion way too many times. “However, there is only one executive I owe my loyalty.” She meant Rufus of course. His actions had left the Turks wounded and in a bad spot, but he seemed to realize their loyalty was useful, and turned back on his ways. He saved fifteen lives…her comrades lives sobering up his ways with them. Like it or not, her life was his to use. She had to find another she was so indebted to that wasn’t a Turk.
Cissnei had not laughed in a very long time. But when Umbrella said she would hold Tseng back for a punch, Cissnei leaned back on her stool and pressed a hand to her mouth as she gave uncontrolled laughter. “I mean, if you could hold Rufus too. I’d give them both a piece of my mind.”
“Regardless, it seems that we are only tools to those who use our services. But, here in a new world, we can carve our own path, yes? We can decide our masters or be our own.” Cissnei smiled, but it was oddly sad. But that was a tale for another time.
Her eyes focused on the light reflected on the glass. Then, as soon as Umbrella mentioned they had each other, her eyes lit up and her gaze sunk into Umbrella’s. “Of course. We are stronger together. And we will watch out for each other. It seems you’ve been through a lot too. But the past doesn’t matter. Only moving forward does.”
Cissnei lifted her bourbon and took a sip, savoring the burning sensation of the dark liquid. “You’re right. Trouble is what we do best, or we get restless.” She swirled the glass, took another sip. With a clank it was set down on the table. She crossed her fingers and leaned forward. “You sound like you know some ties we could start with. What do you know about the enemy? And better yet, do they respond better to violence or reason?” Cissnei felt like the goons responded much better to violence, but the leaders of the operation would be more willing to listen to reason once backed into a corner. She placed a knuckle to her lips in thought. Cissnei partially hoped Umbrella would say violence anyway.
Cissnei raised a brow at the mention of AVALANCHE, “Did you say AVALANCHE is here in this new world too? Are they working with the gangsters?” Cissnei felt her skin prickle. The first AVALANCHE group were really terrorist, ready to wipe the face of the planet clean to extend the planet’s life. The second other was a group of terrorists that opposed the use of mako energy. What if there was a third group in the works?
Cissnei gave Umbrella a slight shrug. “I have found an Inn keeper who lets me use a room for now. Its small, but comfortable. I provide services to him in return. I sing in the local bars.” Cissnei looked a little abashed and looked back at the wall. “But we can discuss that later. After we handle the gangsters.”
A laugh from Cissnei brought something bright and lovely to Umbrella's face. Happiness. That was what her Family deserved. Happiness and everything in the world, in this new world. To never be alone.
"So then let's beat him up a little more lightly then." Her eyes shined.
Of course, this all posed a question. It rang in her head. What did they want as a group? Umbrella herself had little in the way of desires for things. The hunt, the kill, the theft...it was all in the doing rather than the getting. But these things had a way of coming to her through her own actions or the proclivities of the Turks as a whole. Dangerous men and women begot chaos. It was the way of the world.
She didn't ask the question aloud, instead stored it away. It would need to be aired out when they were all a team again.
A finger rose. "From what we've just seen...the child is a fool. He could've retreated, taken us at a better position as soon as he knew he was outclassed. Or used his connections immediately. He didn't even size up his prey. So we can assume the real threat is the leader. Fair, ruthless, professional. Now /he/ might be a challenge! We should be ready, just in case it demands an immediate response. But you don't get to climb to the top of a good drug trade without applying pressure in the right way. We'll need to be polite and gentle." Huff. She sounded not happy about that. Not nearly as fun as dismantling the whole thing or taking it over, but they didn't have the resources.
They'd have to play ball. "...So I say we stab anyone who comes after us, leave them barely alive, and ask them very nicely for a meeting with their boss." Violence and a nice meeting. It'll have to do.
Umbrella shook her head about AVALANCHE. "I haven't heard of them /here/. We were just going to deal with them before I got swept up in this whole place. ...Though if we managed to get here, we need to keep our eyes open. It wouldn't be impossible."
An /inn/! A comfy room. Ahh, she could use that right now.
"Oh really? You're a singer, Big Ciss? I want to hear you sing. Mmm." Hic. She stood up, and stumbled a bit. Then a lot. Oh hey, the world was spinning! Wheeeeee!
"I'm cold. Keep me warm Big Ciss. And gimme a lullaby." She muttered before Umbrella straight collapsed drunkenly towards Cissnei. She...may want to catch her. A bed and sleeping it off wouldn't be bad either!
Cissnei nodded at Umbrella’s remarks. “Perhaps the leader knows that his son is a fool. Maybe he will see things in our favor.” Cissnei paused and smiled, “Don’t worry. You can leave the polite and gentle to me.” It was one of Cissnei’s main talents. Cissnei nodded at Umbrella’s suggestion. “Sounds nice to me. We could ask nicely and if they still refuse. I don’t mind being a little more rough until they say ok. But we only do this in self-defense…for now.” Cissnei gave Umbrella a stern glass before finishing off her glass.
Cissnei looked down at the condensation on the glass and looked a little shy about singing. However, when Umbrella got up, Cissnei moved back around the table in worry. She had drunk way too much and was more likely a danger to herself at this point. And Cissnei was right. Umbrella landed with a thud into her chest. Cissnei gave a soft huff, but her expression softened with kindness. It was good to have a member of the Turk family back in her life. Even if it was one who did not know Cissnei well.
Mac seemed to have heard the commotion and came back up to help her. With assistance, they managed to get the lithe girl onto Cissnei’s back. Cissnei gave Mac a wink and slowly hoofed her back to her inn room. She prayed tonight wasn’t the night they would get mugged by the members. She tried to stick to the lighted areas with plenty of guards.
It was a cramped room but managed to have a kitchenette inside. Cissnei carefully laid Umbrella on the bed and managed to remove her coat and footwear. Once she realized Umbrella was a little more comfortable, she went to take the chair in the corner. She kept her doors locked and only slept lightly.
--- When morning came, Cissnei sang gently as she cooked a bit of eggs and bacon. Or what was supposed to be eggs and bacon. Maybe it was a little too crispy around the edges.
Softly she sang a gentle melody, the chorus softly humming:
~*~Blessed by light and the burden of shadows Souls abide to an endless desire
I may know the answers Though one question I still hear What twist of fate has brought us To roads that run so near?
Distant worlds together, Miracles from realms beyond
The lifelight burns inside me To sing to you this song To sing with you this song To sing to you your song ~*~
Her hair was slightly damp from a recent shower, and her white dress shirt was untucked. She seemed at ease in her own environment.
