The 2nd Circle: The Night Is Forever

Tonight was another alcohol and drug filled night at the club dubbed The Second Circle, named after the 2nd Circle of Hell in Dante's Inferno representing the sin of Lust. The club was full of all kinds of people from ages 18 to even 40. Bodies were grinding to the beat of the music as it played and drinks were everywhere. The lights were flashing and the fans were going to cool off the hot and bothered clubbers and dancers. This club was the hottest spot at night in Karakura town. The owner of the club was only known by his initials RGO unless you worked for him. His name was only shared with people that he conducted business with, not the public.

Ragi, the club owner, was in the upper level in a box office with a glass window that overlooked the club floor. He sat behind his desk looking over various paper works. He was dressed in his usual black suit of the bounto uniform, he wore his rank on his shoulders. However in the world of the living no one knew the meaning to his attire, just bounts. It simply became a signature style of dress to the humans of the living world.

Ragi had a drink in his hand as he read his paper work and requests. It was a short glass with an interesting green liquid that seemed to glow under the dim lights and had a subtle scent of green apple.

"Vice!" the voice of Ragi would shout. A man dressed in black would enter his office eagerly.

"Yes boss?" he would ask.

"Has THAT man brought me my money yet?" Ragi would ask, his voice slightly annoyed.

"No sir. Would you like me to handle it?"

"Please do. His time is up. His daughter shall come work for me now to pay off his debt. His wife too." Ragi would say.

Vice would simply nod and wave 2 of the 5 men already in Ragi's office to come with him. They would leave swiftly to handle the orders. Ragi would stand up from behind his desk and move toward the glass window that overlooked the club. He would take a sip from his drink as he would rest one hand against the glass. The lights from the club flickered in his eyes as he watched the people below lose themselves.

This was his empire.

Wow. This was interesting. His fake I.D. It finally arrived. Well you know. It finally showed up. A local model shouldn't have a fake I.D because it isn't good for his business when he is busy getting locked up and all that jazz. But yes Tristan was going to this club that was in town. He never got in but he heard it was a dope club. Ran by some weird guy that isn't the nicest individual. Tristan's friend Vladimir was suppose to be coming to this club also. Waiting for him was starting to become rather annoying as he wanted to go in and party. Right now the young white hair male had on a red leather jacket with a grey under shirt and some black jeans on with brown boots. This was how he got shit done. He put on his signature glasses which he used for seeing things sometimes.

This entire time Tristan was actually on line. When he finally got to the front of the line he showed his I.D before walking right on in. These fakes looked pretty damn good. It made him 21 and barely 21. Like his birthday on the I.D said his 21st birthday was nothing more then 3 days ago which is funny because that's when he put his request in for the fake I.D. Once in the club Tristan saw all the lights and the beautiful setting and heard some Rihanna playing in the background. This place was turnt on ten. This was a great club just from the look alone.

Walking over to the bar the first thing Tristan said was "Burboun on the rocks please" Damn near right after Tristan dropped a 10 dollar bill on the counter and grabbed his drink walking off into the club. This was going to be fun.

Taking out his cellphone with his right hand while his drink was in his left Tristan unlocked it clicking Vladamir's name allowing it to ring. The phone went to voice mail.

"Dude, The I.D worked. This club is awesome. Alot of older chicks here and everything. Hurry up"

Walking further into the club Tristan saw a group of older women. Probably in their mid 30's all eying him. This was promising.

He'd down his drink slap it on a table and walk over to them with the easiest of smiles gracing his face. "Hello ladies, Having fun here tonight?" within that same breathe Tristan felt something. It was like an energy.. He didn't know what it was but it was some energy. He kept getting that feeling every time he saw one of those weird creatures. What was it? It was like it was telling him where to go

As Ragi finished off his green apple drink he would hold the empty glass out to his side, shaking it so that the bits of ice inside would jingle. Quickly a young woman in black would come to his side, take his glass and refill it. During the time his glass was being refilled, Ragi would feel something, an interesting presence. Ragi made it his business to keep an eye out for such presences, especially in his place of business. Ragi peered down at the club floor with keen eyes and would see a young man enter in a red jacket. He looked a bit young, probably about their bare limit but he could not tell for sure from where he was. The girl would bring him back his glass, this time filled with an intriguing red liquid with a hint of cherry to it. As he would sip his drink he continued to watch the young looking man approach the bar and this is when Ragi was very interested. Based on looks alone to Ragi this boy did not look old enough to drink. However it would seem the bartender would give him a drink anyway. Now Ragi has a strict policy on his bartenders serving minors so he doubt they would give it to the boy without carding him. But it was suspicious to Ragi nonetheless.

"Lisa." Ragi would say smoothly, calling for one of his female workers. The girl was dressed in red, fair skin, long brown hair, and some rather nice heels. She looked like a model...well she was a model so yeah. She would approach Ragi's side.

"Yes sir?" she would ask in her normally seductive voice.

"You see that young man down there in the red jacket? Bring him to my office. Use those dangerous looks of yours and spit some things he may want to hear. Just tell him you wanted to take him to the true VIP lounge, they always tend to fall for that one. Horny bastards. Whatever, just bring him to me." Ragi would say as he would walk back to sit behind his desk and wait. Lisa would just nod and head down to the man in red(Tristan).

Ragi was going to find out who this young man was. The suspicions of his age were good enough to play off of but there was this presence he brought that Ragi truly wanted to get to know. Was this young man going to be trouble? Because Ragi had a way of dealing with trouble.

Artyom glanced at the slid of laminated paper in his grasp, the firm plastic maintaining it's rigidity against the slight crushing force of his hand. The fake ID card certainly looked profession enough, they had matched up the format with the correct one, save the pesky age value, which was not old enough to gain entry to the particular Club at he was seeking access for. He'd pay good money for it as well, so Artyom was glad that he had picked a legitimate dealer as opposed to a scammer, which could have ended badly. Would he had done was give details that had limited access to his financial holdings, it had been fairly easy to just make a separate account and leave a meagre amount of money in there in case the producer attempted to use his records against him. Grinning, Artyom placed the card within his wallet, replacing his normal ID card and putting the usual one in a safe hiding spot. How many robbers would look near the rubbish bin for things of value- particularly beneath the rubbish bin, the curved underbelly of the plastic would protect the card from any damage, so all was safe there.

He was late, he acknowledged that fully. What he didn't want to acknowledge would be that Tristan could be more then a little annoyed at him for being tardy. For all reasons they were an odd pair, and without touching anything that could be labelled 'homosexual' Artyom felt that there was more to Tristan then a lot of other people in his immediate social circles. Jostling into the line, Artyom thought he saw Tristan several times over a little way ahead of him, but he either lost site of the distinctive hair style and clothes several times, and someone replaced him. Crowds annoyed the dark haired individual, who had dressed to appease the feminine side to him tonight, and this came for a very simple reason. The majority of Bounces would be male, and females usually tried to look younger, it was easier to pass off looking 17 as a girl when you were 21 as opposed to looking 17 as a boy and trying to be 21. He could get into a more masculine get-up once he was lost in the dance floor, or maybe he'd find some nice girl who was interested in playing for the other team. As long as she didn't look too deep, he'd be all to happy to tell a white little lie and have some fun, admittedly fun that wouldn't go anywhere lest his deception be discovered.

Handing over the ID, Artyom felt his phone vibrate on his thigh. Not prepared to try and pull it out in this crowd, Artyom left it alone. He'd check who it had been later. Once he was waved through, Artyom leaned around the railing his eyes scouring the crowd for Tristan. Not finding the white haired male, Artyom decided that walking among the trees would be the best way to find the wayward male, as he filched out his phone someone bumped into him, jostling it from his grasp and he landed on the floor with a loud crack. Aforementioned drunk-ass stingy-ass soon-to-be-laid-in-a-grave person then stepped on the fallen item. The temptation was there, and oh so strong as Artyom felt the impulse to lay into the male. Verbally or physically, once he brought his emotions under control then he simply picked up the remains and basketball lobbed it towards a bin, not really caring if he got it in or not.

Wandering down into the main courtyard, Artyom found Tristan already laying it thick on some elder women, sly dog. However, the Bro Code was pretty routine on this sort of thing- you didn't try and c-block a Bro unless the girl was expressing interest in you and you felt like he wasn't going to see her good, and Tristan ALWAYS saw them down good. Turning to get himself a drink, Artyom ordered a Vesper, it was to the credit of the staff that they didn't bat an eyelid as they whisked up the referential drink for the inky customer.

As Artyom waited for a good lapse in the conversation while checking out the interest of the female bartender -the quiet ones you know, plus they're used to taking orders- he spied a certain someone come up to Blake's table. Well, this was something certainly. He didn't know what was going on, but he most certainly didn't like the feel of it. Call it gut intuition, but Artyom was worried as in all likelihood, the Club was on the lookout for people like he and Tristan as it was recently opened. You walked right into the Club and then someone who definitely wasn't dressed for dancing comes wondering over. Artyom only hoped that Tristan was just as aware of how wrong things could go here. The people paid to enforce security in these places weren't gentle. Those Bouncers at the door alone would have weight about 250 kilograms together. And there had just been the two of them, so that was about 125 kilograms each. Of pure muscle. A hit from one of those blokes wouldn't be easy to shrug off. That said, both Artyom and Tristan had apparently taken their fair share of rather brutal hits and shrugged them off.

Moving around stealthily, Artyom subversively caught Tristan's eye as he hoped that his friend would catch the motion in the rear of his vision and pick up on Artyom's presence, if he hadn't already. Tristan knew how to signal Artyom if he felt he would need some back-up, Artyom's hand was already bent strangely his middle finger extended while everything else curled into a rough circle. The six o'clock, Tristan would only need to nod or shake his head and Artyom would either find a way to be there on Tristan's six, or if he wasn't required and Artyom could go back to finding out how long it took for that bartender to get dressed in that wonderful butlers outfit she had on.

"So true story. I'm cruising down Karakura 35 probably 2AM i see no one in the next few lanes. Know what I do? Cut a U-Turn drift to my left and shift into 4th gear. Zooming down the streets probably going 90 miles or something so this cop car pulls up to the side of me and says "Do you realize you're speeding?" I look at my meter and say "Do you realize you're speeding?" At that exact moment the cop just looks all kinds of confused so he stops his car and skids into a pole. Long story short catch a cop in hypocrisy. Easiest way to win." All at once the females burst into laughter as Tristan finished this story. It was a good one. He had plenty of these stories to go around but that one was probably the most golden of them all. It actually happened too. It was about a week ago at that. Left some modeling agency party and boom there you go a 17 year old cruising in a Lamborghini Murcielago.

Now while that was going on Tristan noticed the females looking to the side for a minute causing Tristan to turn around noticing Vlad who caused Tristan to smile "Sup man, Finally got here it se-" His words were cut off by a beautiful woman. She was a brunette red dress and some heels on and she was all natural from the looks of it. This was to good to be true thought Tristan but he couldn't pass up on this opportunity. "Vlad keep the ladies company" As he approached the woman he'd toss two hundred dollars at the table for Vlad to use then he'd continue forward to the female. She was about to get the business from this young stradler of a man known as Tristan. This could get serious pretty damn fast.

"Can I buy you a drink beautiful?" said Tristan trying to be as suave as possible before the female leaned in and spoke "Lets go somewhere more private, Like the real VIP area." Her breathe could be felt right against his ear. He smiled before replying "Lead the way beautiful". She lead the way through a series of wall entrances and staircases which lead to a box office room. Very serious looking. Lots of drinks and what not. This man with gray hair himself sat down with a drink in his hand. "Fuck" said Tristan as the woman left his size to sit next to the other man on the left shoulder of his chair. "Well this looks interesting. Tell me something guy who looks a lot like me. Do you like to party?" Saying that as he grabbed himself a cup that someone else had been drinking out of.

As Ragi sat in wait for Lisa's return, he would feel another presence enter his club, similar to that of the man in red. So he had friends? Ragi would keep it within mind as he would address the man when he arrived. His door would open and in would come Lisa and the man in red. The man seemed to understand the situation immediately by his first words. Ragi simply sipped from his drink, his eyes on the man in red as Lisa would come to sit by his side.

The man or rather let's just say boy would grab a cup that was resting on a small counter that had once belonged to someone else. The boy had addressed Ragi in a humorous manner, so Ragi would smirk but remain silent for now. Two of Ragi's goons would approach the man, one on each of his sides, from behind. They would make the attempt to frisk him for weapons as well as force him to sit down in a black chair on the other side of Ragi's desk.

Ragi would set his drink down after taking one more sip. He would bring a hand to the underside of his face as he stared at the boy in his office. Ragi's crimson gaze was something to be both admired and feared by many. Probably not to this boy but who was he in the end compared to Ragi.

"So where is it?" Ragi would ask plainly. The room would be silent, outside of the muffled sound of the music from the club.

Artyom nodded as he was directed to entertain the females that Tristan had left eye and dry. Looked like someone wanted to see him awfully bad. Mentally shrugging, Artyom placed himself at the females tender mercies- sweeping his hair back into a long pony-tail, a single hand held up for silece while he re-arrange his features. These girls seemed to like a more masculine portrayal in their taste of men, so Artyom would do his best to endeavour at altering his appearance so that they would be satisfied with him. Or not, Artyom was never the best at keeping his nose out of trouble, still he would do this task to the best of his ability, no need to spoil the girls night. Maybe he'd just drink 'em under the table. No one could hold their liquor like the Russians, aye? Well then, again maybe not- two of those girls looked CROATIAN.

Adopting a more manly swagger about himself and with his eyes fully revealed, Artyom addressed the trio smoothly. If he did anything right, it was his delivery.
"Guten abend, ladies." Artyom looked up expectantly at the waiter wandering around and caught his eye and gestured imperiously with an eyebrow. Confident, confidence. "Ah, shaell be paying fore this round schons," If his occasional use of an exotic language offended them, they didn't show it. It was usually a good way to imply many things while saying something they couldn't quite grasp, however they most certainly felt the inflection within the word.
As they ordered their drinks -not being skimpy in the slightest in terms of alcohol content- a Singapore Sling, Jack Rose and a Sake Bomb (from the only Oriental woman at the table). This most certainly wasn't going to be cheap. Ordering himself another Vespa, Artyom set about finding the odd little nooks of personality for each of the women that could be exploited later on.

Well damn. This was just working perfectly for the young man known as Tristan. He wasn't going to walk away from this situation. It seemed like if he tried to leave he'd get his ass kicked because these dudes looked like they just came out of a Die Hard movie and Tristan knew how that ended for the villains. He wasn't in the mood for some yippee Ki Yay shit. Not today. Not ever. After his initial words Tristan noticed the other grey haired man sipped from his cup. He was a grown ass man the fuck was he sipping from his cup for.

As those two goons approached Tristan and gave him a look he just put his hands up allowing them to search him "Okay you're going a little to much to the south man" said Tristan as the goon to the left started moving a little bit to down towards his crotch. Tristan wasn't to big on that Brokeback mountain shit. It crept him out. After they failed to find anything they sat Tristan down in this black chair in front of the older Tristan's desk. It looked like if he got mad he'd just press a button and send Tristan to some hidden tomb or some shit.

Luckily they didn't find his fake I.D which was like in his boot. Left one to be exact. He kept it there for safe keeping. His ring began to shine a bit in this weird lighting that was in the room. The crimson glow to it gave away something special. As if something was warning Tristan through it. But he ignored it. When the other man asked where it was Tristan had not one clue what he was talking about so he looked around and noticed all the guards and women and booze before responding "Fine, Here". Reaching in his left sleeve with his right arm Tristan would pull out about a 4th of a key all bagged up and ready for individual sale. "I'm low man just take the drugs and let me leave? Please? With sprinkles on top" Tristan said those words with a smile on his face as he slid the drugs across the desk.

Ragi watched the man pull some drugs from his sleeve and this came as a surprise to Ragi as he would raise an eyebrow, watching the drugs slide across his desk. Ragi would sigh aloud and the people in his office seemed to shift a bit at the same time. What was that about? One could only guess.

"I was not talking about the drugs but now I have somewhat of an idea of why you're here." Ragi would say, bringing his hands together at the fingertips as he continued to look at the boy in front of him.

"Listen, I'm here to run a business. When I run a business, I tend to shut out the competition and make it part of my business to know of the threats to my business. You coming here with the intention to sell drugs interferes with my business, because drugs are part of my business." Ragi would start and tension in the room would rise.

"Now why would I tell you that I'm in the drug business, not knowing who you are? You could be a cop, a rat for all I know right? Of course you could, which is why you won't be leaving here tonight if I don't get all the information I want out of you." He would continue and as he did his spiritual pressure would take a gradual rise as the music of the club seemed to amp up to the best part of the song.

"You put me in a difficult position kid. Yes I call you a kid not only because you appear young, barely old enough to even be in my club but definitely not old enough to buy drinks in my club. So not only do you enter my club with drugs, possibly being the feds, but you break the rules of my club and take advantage of my bartenders whom I will have to deal with later to explain the process of discovering fake IDs." Ragi would go on, his tone remaining the same but his words only increasing the tension. The people in the office would seem to make moves away, trying to put their backs to a wall or ground themselves, breathing heavy. They were starting to feel the effects of Ragi's spiritual pressure.

"You really should not be here kid but you and your friend downstairs are. Yes I know he's with you, because you're both the same. You should know what I'm talking about. Which is why he won't be leaving here either if I can have anything to say about it. Look, I'm only gonna ask this once and you're gonna do your best to make sure you survive this by being completely honest and telling me anything you think I want to know about you. If you need help I'll throw you some starter questions: What is your name? Why are you here? Where are you from? Who are your parents? What is your favorite sport? WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Ragi would go on, his crimson gaze was like a dagger to the soul, piercing the boy before him.

"Do you understand? Good, now start." Ragi would say plainly, his spiritual pressure calming to a neutral state.

Artyom's skin prickled as the wash of metaphysical energy rolled over him like a wave. He didn't noticeably alter his facial expression of amusement as he was regaled with a tale revolving around some sunscreen and a boy who had forgotten the time his parents would get home. The sunscreen had been procured to provide a believe cover for her face.
He had been laughing along with the rest of them when the 'wind' blew through. He mentally frowned, mentally glancing towards the VIP lounge. That wasn't one of the Masked Ones he had been told to avoid long ago, it was organised and very intent. Frequently a Masked One was like someone with an attention disorder, it was raw and primal but chaotic so it failed to quite classify as in the same order as what he usually experienced.
Regaining his momentarily faltered laughter, he explained it away by hooking it into his own experiences regarding inappropriately timed parental visits and how he had a girl had jumped out of a window into the pool below as an excuse to be in their underwear. Well, remedied Artyom- it hadn't been one girl. And so had to explain the dynamics of that event to the interested females.
However, Artyom was not Tristan, and didn't exert the same pull over them as his friends did. And it had been blatantly obvious that they were hanging around for the more manly of the pair, and Artyom was soon left to his lonesome as they made a number of excuses to leave.
One needed to go home, another had seen a friend, yet another was even more obvious and said that there was a hunk on the dance floor looking lonely, and she felt that the poor sweet needed some attention.

This worked for Artyom, who had felt the rising pressure on his skin slowly begin to fade away. However, Artyom didn't think that the cordoned off section of the club marked simply as the VIP lounge, wasn't quite where that had been coming from. Stretching his arms, Artyom bend his right arm over his shoulders, drawing a few odd looks from some passers-by, but was otherwise left alone and went unnoticed.
Walking forwards, Artyom answered the wave of spiritual pressure he'd felt earlier with one of his own. Admittedly not as strong as the one he'd received. Artyom didn't know how it would be received by the person who'd projected his own energy, but Artyom knew that they were coming dangerously close to attracting Masked Ones to their location as his Grandfather had told him. If he wanted to continue to escalate the situation, that would tell Artyom something about the person he was dealing with.
On his part, he was prepared to try and distract any Masked Ones that appeared so he should be able to prevent any causalities. He walked forwards as he projected his presence, wondering if he could provoke a reaction and see if the other person would give away his location, however the pressure was quickly shut off after about four seconds or so of projection. He'd avoid Masked Ones if he could.

If you asked Tristan this situation didn't look to good to him. This was that movie where the innocent and confused guy got killed because of a misunderstanding and judging by which chair Tristan was in you knew the role he was playing. He was quaking in his boots well not really but really. He was a bit shaky as he didn't know his fate in all of this. He didn't know what this man was going to do or what the fuck he was talking about. This was all so foreign to Tristan. He shouldn't have came to the club tonight. He fucked up tonight. He really had a bad habit of showing up at the wrong places at the wrong time. Like that one time in ban- okay losing focus back to the story.

As he started speaking to Tristan things started to get a little creepy. Tristan didn't know what to make of it. He wasn't sure if this man was joking or being dead serious but as it got harder to breathe in this room he was judging it was the man being serious. This man caused the same effect those creatures Tristan to use to see caused. It was like the air around him was thickening and he couldn't react. When he said Tristan selling drugs was bad for business the first thing Tristan thought of was his throat being slit. That wasn't a good way to think about things especially for a man at the ripe age of 17, But it was becoming more and more of a reality the more the man talked. The fact he wasn't even asking for the drugs made this worse. Tristan dug himself deeper.

He assumed Tristan was a cop or a narc or whatever the fuck he wanted to think which made that image Tristan had of his throat being slit becoming more realistic by the second. He obviously figured that Tristan didn't belong in his club and that the ID's were fake. At least the man wasn't stupid. The room became much harder to breathe in even the people around the room felt it but they seemed more dramatic about it compared to Tristan. Odd. Going forward with the words the mystery man said Tristan and Vlad didn't belong here and he said they were both the same and said Tristan should know what he is talking about. He didn't actually. Vlad was like Russian or some shit.

After that tidbit he said Tristan nor Vlad were leaving this club. Welp he was right his throat was going to be slit. He then said he was going to ask Tristan something and he should answer to his best if he wanted to live. The younger grey haired man nodded his head out of fear. He wanted to know about Tristan. He even tossed some questions out. As the man spoke them Tristan took them in before responding to the best of his ability. "My name is Tristan Blake, I came here just to hang out I swear and maybe get a job or something i could use one. I was born in Europe but I moved here when I was a kid, My mother is dead and my father owns his own company, my favorite sport is soccer and I think I answered the last question area. Now for a question of my own. Are you hiring? I'd make a great stripper for ladies night." At this point Tristan didn't have any bargaining chips so he was trying to work with what he had. Leaning in on the table Tristan began to whistle.

Ragi sat there, hands together, elbows on the arms of his chair. Tristan Blake, mother dead, father owns his own company. The rest was not really relevant to Ragi. However the boy was interested in having a job to save his skin perhaps. Ragi could oblige but this would be one of those instances where one makes a deal with the devil. This boy truly had come to the wrong place if what he said was true of his intentions. Something else Ragi had noticed was the response of spiritual energy from the boy's friend below, the one that was just the same as he. Ragi would not entertain the unknown boy below, he would let him go for now. However Ragi would not forget a spiritual energies feeling. Even if he had not seen the man below, Ragi would be able to find him based on his spiritual pressure alone should he ever come in contact with it again...especially after he had given Ragi a good feeling of it.

Ragi would take another sip from his drink, finishing it actually once Tristan was done talking. "Okay Tristan. If you wanna work with me, then you have to prove it. You can have your job as a stripper with the understanding that stripping will not be the only work you will be doing for me. Working for me is a full time thing and no negotiating." Ragi would say with a grin on his face as if this discussion was about to transition into some kind of joke. Well let's just say the faces of the others in his office right now, after they recollected themselves, was becoming serious and worried at the same time.

Ragi would open a drawer in his desk, while his eyes stayed on Tristan the entire time. Ragi would pull a hunting knife from the draw, placing it on the desk before him. The knife was sheathed in a black and could be strapped to one's belt or leg or whatever. The hilt of the knife had a half skull printed on it, similar to the belt buckle of Ragi. Ragi would show off the knife to Tristan, showing him the insignia and then the blade itself with it's serrated edge and silver gleam. The boy would see his own reflection in the knife.

"You wanna work for me, you have to prove it to me." Ragi would say. Just after saying that, his office door would open wildly and in would come Vice and the other man, carrying two women who were crying and screaming. It was as if right on cue, the two women Ragi had ordered Vice to retrieve had come in for this very moment.

"Ah good, right on time." Ragi would say standing up with the blade in his hand, turning to face the two women struggling to get away from Vice. The two men dressed in black near Tristan would pull him to his feet and seize him by his arms.

"Hello Mrs. Yamamoto and young Yamamoto. Sorry would could not meet on better circumstances. You see, your husband and father owes me some money and promised he would pay it back on your lives. Such loyal words. Well he has yet to pay his debt and well, I had to collect. I mean what kind of man would I be if I did not follow through on my words." Ragi would ask moving closer to Mrs. Yamamoto as she would muffle her cries while staring at Ragi with wet eyes of despair.

"Why are you doing this? You don't have to do this, I will pay you the money, just let us go. Please! Please let us go!" she would say, her cries starting back up again as she pleaded. Her daughter was just no good either.

"Why?! WHY?! I'll tell you why: My new friend Tristan here wants to work with me, that's why. I mean who am I to turn down a young boy in need of a job?! Plus you are mine now and I can do damn well what I please with you." Ragi would say mockingly but his voice would trail back to its cold tone as he would bring the tip of the blade to Mrs. Yamamoto's chin. Ragi would turn his back on the two crying women to turn and face Tristan.

"Here is what's gonna happen people. Those of you who have been with me all these years knows how this goes but for you new people I'm gonna give you a run down. When you work for me, I own you. You do what the fuck I want you to do, no questions asked. You see, I own both of these women now and Tristan, if you want to work for me, then I will own you too. So here are your jobs. Young Yamamoto will be put on the streets, Lisa will be in charge of that as that's her field. She's bottom bitch." Ragi would say, pointing the knife at the people as he talked about them.

"Mrs. Yamamoto here, well....heh....she will oversee Tristan's job processing. She is literally the key to Tristan landing this job. Because we can't just be hiring just anyone. We have to know they are in this for the long haul. Plus Tristan here knows too much already, so if he doesn't get this job his life is pretty much over. So Tristan, what you have to do is kill Mrs. Yamamoto. Right here....right now...with this knife. How you wanna approach that is up to you, but we don't have all day. So I'm gonna put 3 minutes on the clock and myself and these other key witnesses present today will wait and watch. And if you don't do it in 3 minutes or refuse to do it period, well.....I kill you." Ragi would say, as if explaining something completely normal and okay.

Once he was done speaking, Ragi would walk to Tristan stare him in the eyes as he would drop the blade at his feet and walk behind him to stand back behind his desk. Ragi would look at his watch, waiting for the second hand to reach the twelve. "Annnnnd Start..." he would say when it had. Once he said that, the two goons would let Tristan go so that he may choose his fate. Mrs.Yamamoto would be released from Vice's grip as well where she would be able to freely move and resist and fight back. However she would not be able to leave the office due to the guard at the door. Her daughter would begin to cry even more hysterically as she realized her and her mother's fate. Everyone else in the room would watch with solemn looks on their face. Ragi was the only one with a grin on his face, well save a few fucked up people that worked for him. All were eager to see what Tristan would do for all of them had been in his position at one point or another, especially if their loyalty had ever been in question.

Artyom nodded as the dialogue of Spiritual Pressure ceased abruptly. The pair of them had simply pushed up against each other, there hadn't been any real positively dangerous intent in either of their projections as far as Artyom was concerned. So he simply committed the old, wood like -oaken- feel of the pressure to memory. Or at least attempted to, nodding slightly to himself, Artyom wandered back out into the dance floor, his mood for frivolities was dried up however. There was no real need for his presence right now, as far as he was concerned. So the wannabe playboy merely lounged around watching the dancing and getting his alcohol level up reasonably high so that his mind stopped moving around so much. Not many people could hold their liquor as well as Artyom and he drunk several people under the table before he called it a night and once again walked towards the entry/exit. He loitered around there for a little, talking occasionally to the Bouncer who minded the door who unfortunately needed to leave once his shift ended, so Artyom passed on through and out into the cool night air.
Glancing around for any Masked Ones attracted by the commotion, Artyom made his way along the street. Taking his time in case Tristan made it out early, although as far as Artyom could tell his friend was getting some top-class service in the VIP lounge.
Maybe he'd have some pictures to share, although Artyom reckoned that there probably was a no picture policy surrounding that section of the club.
[Exit]

The vibe in this club was too cool to be anything from this dimension and the ambient feels were resonating like ripples in a pond. The music was always pumpin' and set on max, but it didn't seem like anyone was really affected by it. Whomever the artist was, really needed to get a new career in something besides making this kinda music. With black shades and green contacts on Vlad entered the club showing his driver's license. It said twenty-eight, more than old enough to step in the club. He was more interested in checking out the liquor more than anything, and when he caught the scent of Svedka and Smirnoff being made into Bloody Marys. He made his way across the dance floor over to the bar. Or at least, attempt to. He accidently bumped into a snorter, but hadn't realized as the puny man fell over in his chair, face first into his lines. Vlad didn't see, but he gave a slight smirk.

Booty was everywhere, a sea of perky, compacted or just all out in the open ass that made Vlad a bit wary of trekking across. He wasn't exactly mindful of being grinded on by strangers in a night club.who knows where those things have been…or WILL be in a few hours. Shuddering at the thought he fought through the dancers and made his way to the bar, knowing Rose would probably be nearby. He got to the bar, hopped on a swivel chair and spun slightly as he sat and ordered a Bloody Mary with a lime and a little umbrella to go with it. No matter how dark, cruel and insane Vlad was, there was always time for a little umbrella in his Bloody Mary. A faint but decent reiatsu wave made Vlad raise an eyebrow as he drank from his goblet cup and hummed. He bit his bottom lip and pondered on its location. He probably thought he was just over-reacting and went back to sipping on his drink.

Well this obviously sucked. Tristan was talking out his ass now. Not sure what he could possibly say to save his skin he was just running on tangents. Scared for his safety. After taking a sip from his glass the older looking Tristan began to speak. He said if Tristan wanted to work with him he'd have to prove it. This did not sit well with Tristan at all. Mentally he wasn't sure if he could be game for whatever the guy was gonna offer but physically he was quaking in his boots. He didn't understand why this guy couldn't just give Tristan a job and get on with his day. Like for serious Tristan had the "It" factor. People just loved him.

That fellow would bare an evil grin. That just didn't sit to well with Tristan. He'd open a drawer and he eyed Tristan the entire time. That was just downright creepy. A hunting knife came from the mans hand landing with a thud against the desk. Damn this was gonna end bad. Tristan getting his throat slit was like a serious reality now. Some weird skull insignia was on the knife tho. That was kinda cool. Tristan could see his reflection within the blade and boy did he not wanna see himself right now. Like on a regular day he'd love to look at himself. But not when a blade was his means of doing such a thing. Damn he was going to die. Not like this.

"You wanna work for me, You have to prove it to me" Those words never sounded scary until now. Like through all the movies Tristan has seen this was the only time those words shook him. He watched alot of movies and he had an idea of what was to follow. Hopefully no one came out of a closet bound and gagged preparing to be executed. That would have just been cruel and unusual on both sides. A creek at the door and the goons came in with two women. They were irate. Crying and screaming. Looking at the man whom looked like him once more Tristan bore that "What the fuck is wrong with you" face. He was lost for words right now. This man was into some kind of extra shit.

Tristan still sitting looking on at this began to wonder his chances of attacking these guys and winning. When the older Tristan stood up and started playing with the blade Tristan was surprised when two of the guards pulled him to his feet. "Fuck" He screamed. He knew where this was going for sure now. He was about to do something he didn't want to do. But fuck this. He was really looking for another way out now. Beginning to speak the cruel sadistic older version of Tristan gave a brooding speech to the women stating their father owed them money and he failed to pay up. Tristan wasn't going to be a witness to murder.. He wasn't going to participate in this. He couldn't do this. He wasn't about that life. He wasn't made for this boyz in the hood shit.

Still being gripped by the arms Tristan would break free and look at the goons "Fuck you looking at tall white and stupid". He'd look forward at the older version of himself one more time. The mother it seemed began to plead for her life. She swore she'd pay the money. Seconds would pass before that cruel fuckers voice would burst out once more saying Tristan wanted to work with him. He basically said the women belonged to him. Such a Communistic complex to think about people with. He'd rub the blade against the older woman's chin before turning around to Tristan. He gave him that look. Tristan instantly started to back up before the guards pushed him forward causing him to fall down to his knees and hands. This wasn't going to work. Somebody was gone die tonight.

Beginning to speak again the man made it clear what was going to happen. These women were owned by him and he claimed Tristan was about to be owned by him also. That made Tristan chuckle a bit. He named the woman who romanced him into this room as Lisa. That bitch set him up. Why him tho? What was so special about him. He shed a few tears because as stated previously he wasn't about that life. As the man walked up to him he dropped the blade down causing Tristan to lift it up and glare at it for about a minute. He contemplated everything wrong with this situation. Standing up he'd look at the daughter and speak "I'm sorry..." Those words escaped his mouth as he quickly slit the throat of the woman and lunged the blade at one of the two guards that was holding the woman when they came in. What was his name.. Vice was it? Ah yes it was vice. The blade went right between his eyes causing him to drop to the ground dead. Tristan would speak as he turned around with blood on his clothing and face. "I'm not owned by anyone". His heart was hurting and he felt something weird around him. That energy again.

Ragi watched with keen interest as Tristan would take the knife in hand. He could see the anxiety all over the boy's face as the stress of the situation would overtake him. It would literally take an entire minute before Tristan would finally to stand up and make his decision. Mrs. Yamamoto had yet to move despite having freedom and her daughter's crying remained incessant. Then it would happen, finally. A foreshadowing apology delivered to the daughter, the slashing of the throat of Mrs. Yamamoto, and the ear splitting scream of the daughter during all of it. The girl's scream would not leave the office due to it's sound proof like capabilities and the music of the club, so being heard by those not in the office was of no concern. Ragi had a wide grin on his face but that would slowly fade following Tristan's next action. The boy boldly threw the knife between the eyes of Vice. Now why would he do that?

All of Ragi's people in the office, all 8 or 9 of them would pull out a gun or two aiming dead at Tristan with key aim. They were carrying 9mm pistols. Even Lisa. Tristan was within all of their sights, surrounded and should he move they would unload on him. Ragi stood there behind his desk, not in the line of fire of any of them. But why would Tristan do that? To prove he was not owned by anyone? That was laughable and Ragi was gonna explain why.

"Oh Tristan, you tell yourself that but you and I both know the truth now. Killing one of my men won't wash away the blood on your hands. The truth that you valued your life above these women, that you would kill one of them if it meant you did not have to die. You've sold your soul Tristan. Just admit it, you're no longer gonna be the same person anymore. Not to mention, you just killed two people here tonight, in front of all these witnesses who would gladly back up any story I come up with. Your life as you knew it could be over, just like that." Ragi would say with his arms folded across his chest, his crimson gaze upon Tristan. The young girl was finally quieting down becoming numb to the situation and everyone else was glaring at Tristan, itching to put holes in him.

"Mrs. Yamamoto had come here to discuss the business between myself and her husband while catching me up on life since we're old friends. Telling me how her daughter seems to be getting out of control lately. We were overlooking the club when we spot both of you enter, underage and buying alcohol with fake IDs. I order my guard to bring you up here. Both of you intoxicated were being rebellious teens. Mrs. Yamamoto was talking with her daughter trying to understand what's been happening to her lately. It turns out you, Tristan, have been happening to her. The unknown trouble maker entering their lives. You being the uncontrollable bastard you are become violent both verbally and physically with Mrs. Yamamoto. Vice tries to calm you down and restrain you. We think we've done so but you sneak Vice's knife, kill Mrs. Yamamoto and then Vice unexpectedly. Yeah, that sounds about right. Young Yamamoto here claims she's in love so of course she'd lie for you but compared to everyone else here and my own credibility, well....I don't see an out for you." Ragi would tell the falsified story to both Tristan and young Yamamoto. The young girl looking at him bewildered and wide eyed, then lowering her head realizing how easily that story would pass in a court.

"You see Tristan, your life really is in my hands. So I do own you and you are gonna do as I ask. ESPECIALLY since you've taken out one of my most best. A life for a life. Congrats, you got the job." Ragi would say as he would walk to the bar left of his desk and refill his own glass, since everyone else was occupied obviously. He would take a few sips as he would head back to his desk and take a seat. He would set the glass down, pull out a piece of paper and a pen. He would write something down quickly.

"You're to go to this old store at 4pm tomorrow. Be on time. Oh and Ladies night is on Fridays, so you can start tomorrow. I hope there aren't many questions..." Ragi would say as he would slide the paper forward on his desk for Tristan to retrieve. It had the address of the store on it and a reminder time on it, nothing else.

Ragi would take another sip from his drink as he would wait for Tristan to take the paper and say whatever he needed to. As he did at this time, another presence would enter his club as one left. This one was different than Tristan and his friend earlier. No this one smelled of shinigami...tainted with hollow. Ragi smirked to himself upon noticing this. Ragi had an extreme dislike for shinigami but the hollow taint present in this one told him this was one of their outcasts, their "ugly cousin". A being that was practically a middle finger to the shinigami race. Ragi liked their kind. He would dwell too much on why this person was in his club, he just hoped they weren't gonna cause trouble.

Anyway, Ragi would keep his eyes on Tristan to see that this boy understood what was what finally.

OOC: Not really much for me to do here. And I'm like walking out the door sooo yea..



As Tristan looked on at the man he was dealing with he figured he was about to die. He knew he was going to die. He felt it all to close. But no he was granted a second chance at life but this fellow basically blackmailed Tristan into this "Murder". He basically pegged Tristan as a serial killer. That wasn't cool at all. This was just getting darn ugly. Tristan would take the paper the man offered him before mean mugging him and walking out the front door. Tristan was going to be the one who killed that bastard.

Exit

Ragi smiled as it was clear to the boy understood his position and there was nothing to argue about. He would allow Tristan to leave and they would meet again soon of course. Then it would be just him and his associates and young yamamoto...oh and the bodies of Vice and Mrs. Yamamoto. Ragi would sit and put his head in his hand. A few seconds would pass and it would seem the cool headed boss would suddenly snap.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL JUST STANDING AROUND FOR? CLEAN THIS SHIT UP BEFORE GUT ALL OF YOU." he would yell. However his facial expression would not really change to show him angry, he just seemed annoyed.

Young yamamoto would begin her sobbing yet again. She was gonna be pulled away buy a guard and Lisa would follow her. She was going to be cleaned up because her night was just starting. The bodies of Vice and Mrs. Yamamoto would be disposed of, the knife given back to Ragi for his own possession. Their bodies would never be discovered again...that was a fact.

Time would pass as Ragi would oversee the closing of his club from his office. Then he would eventually pack his things and leave for the night.

[Exit|End Ragi's Participation In This Topic]