Little Shop of Horrors [CRC, PM For Invite]

[Roger Kranos]

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Coruscant Underworld​

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Flower Shop​

"No...no we can do that." He spoke in a half growl half whisper, finger-less leather gloves bracing against the communication advice. He sat in the chair, a brand new white suit with a black shirt, the sparkling pyramidal spikes on the knuckles of the gloves shining with his minimal movement. He crossed one leg, sitting in a somewhat leaning pose, as his dark black hair hung before his face. Behind him, raised beds filled to the brim with assortment of flowers, and pots laid about just ready for transplanting. "15,000 heads of jade rose, gotcha. What grade?" He leaned back at the grate the of the sound across the phone. "Premium, I should have remembered you had class...Now, I need you to say it." He paused, blue eyes moving back and forth at the wall before him, the other side was retail location of this particular flower shop. Against the wall, Seth the keeper, watched with a skinny sort of appeal. Kranos perked up. "Yes, we can put salt in the water capsules...helps with the electrolytes. Yes, yes...she's a very lucky lady." He laughed. "You'll have the delivery by the weekend. You have a nice week and tell the family I said hello."

He shut the device with a clap of it's closure, the sound wasn't enough to keep him from leaning forward. A few snores released from the throat, the pressure of his head against his trachea brought about residual vibrations. As soon as the phone hit the ground, he jumped forward, the chair pushing out from behind him, as he wiped the snow from his mustache. With a sort of crazy look in his eye, surveying the flowers before turning to the keeper. A few jumps, not steps, crossed the distance as he tilted his head and looked at the brown bag in the keepers hands. He jutted his jaw out, chewing softly on the air. "Is that what I asked for?" Seth nodded and Kranos laughed with the arch of his back before straightening with a flood of seriousness.

"Rock candy?" Seth nodded. "Bull whip?" Seth nodded. "Riding crops..." Seth nodded. "Plural?" Seth nodded. "12 zip ties...3 red, 8 black...1 green?" Seth nodded again, exhaling with impatience. "Scotch?" Seth nodded. Kranos paused before hugging the man at a distance, exhaling. "I like you. Come on, we have work to do." With the a speed that no man should have, he yanked the brown bag from the mans hand and cradled it, moonwalking away and towards the raised beds. With a stomp, he pushed in a specific brick with the right level of pressure. The raised beds lifted up with hydraulic pushes, leading to the manufacturing center within the basement. It was expansive, the walk of stairs would reveal it as such. Kranos pocketed a pair of pruners as he ran down the stairs, Seth following behind slowly.

"Are you a fan of cutting, Seth? No, no...don't answer that." He said as he put the brown bag down on the table, referring to the act of diluting drugs to improve production. "We have visitors coming, to view the wares..." He waved to the worker bees near the back. He internally laughed at the idea of telling these peoples relatives that they were being given fair work. Might as well have been slave labor, but he cared very little for faulty monikers. This was efficacy at it's finest, drones droning along, serving the position they were born to serve. "Do me a solid and get some glasses and a pitcher of fresh water. Watch the front door and if anyone but our kind come along, offer them a complimentary flower and inform them we are closed for the day."

He waved Seth off as he opened the scotch and sniffed it, looking at the projection of margins on the wall.

[member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Nergal"] | [member="Hades Michae"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

The growling turmoil of the streets of the Coruscant undercity was a far cry from the blithe hustle of the artificial mall that was Antecedent, a planet so lit with neon, there was no real night. Here in the bowels of Coruscant, the undercity was an endless, unrepentant night, decaying with forgotten ruins of the day.

Cryax Bane did not miss the daylight.

Existing wholly on stimulants he was injecting directly into his bloodstream, the ex-President of a well-known Outer Rim crime syndicate, walked through the sector, his mind jumping tangentially from one thinly connected problem to the next. The 5,000,000 credit bounty on his head made its rounds quite a bit, zinging along his synapses like a bullet train. The Chiss would have spent that amount of credits himself merely to get some sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Acid’s large round head bent at an impossible angle, almost perpendicular to her rail thin neck, and the chewed piece of pink gum hanging out of her lifeless mouth.

He stood in front of the Flower Shop, aptly named "Flower Shop." The lack of creativity in the name spoke volumes about the space, to someone with criminal ties anyway. How did he get here? Oh yes, the Holopic. His blood red eyes casting a faint translucent halo around his face in the dim light of the Flower Shop, he floated through the door like a blue ghost. Inside were two men, one of them talking about bull whips and riding crops, a subject that might have piqued his interest once upon a time, before the numbness set in. He walked up to the men, a questioning gaze etched into his alien eyes.

Rolling up the sleeve of his duster, Bane stiffly stretched his arm out in front of him and projected a Holopic.

The image came to the Chiss from an anonymous Syndie amid the tangle of shady networks that made up the Holonet’s darknet, a place he was browsing in a night of stim-boosted adrenal obsession. Its sender addressed him by an alias he hadn’t heard in years, only backwards, its significance known only to the sender itself. “Gub.”

The Holopic was this:

​

The address of the Flower Shop was attached.

Letting his eyes wander around the store, inspecting the various bouquets of rare plants from around the galaxy, another fleeting thought orbited inside his head. He should really get some flowers for Acid’s mother.

[member="Roger Kranos"] [member="Nergal"] [member="Hades Michae"]

 

[Hades Michae]

Nar Shaddaa was often referred to as Little Coruscant, and as a native of the aforementioned Hades could confirm the resemblance. Of course at first glance Coruscant presented a glittering opulence, home to the rich and famous, the center of the Galaxy and the first to receive the newest and shiniest technology and advancement. But underneath that mask, it was a hole just like Nar Shaddaa, darker and deeper the farther down you crawled. If he were ever to feel at home it would be down here with the insects, watching his cigarette smoke filter up and curl, a haze of symbols in the neon lights of the Underworld. But it’d been hard to see ‘reality’ the same way since that first trip.

Instead of leaning against a wall or in a doorway, Hades had chosen to stand in the middle of one of the roadways, trying to figure out what his cigarette was telling him. Most things did that. A flock of birds coalesced to tell him a story, flying in impossible configurations. Plants grew in sentences. The homeless men cut holes in their cardboard homes to show him the way. Down here the dirty looks passer-by were throwing him were likely to escalate to getting stabbed, but Hades wasn’t prone to being alarmed. (Nothing is particularly alarming. I die today, I die tomorrow – I didn’t mean anything except to myself, and I’ve moved past things like that.) Dropping the cigarette smoked to the filter, the remaining sparks sprayed over the pavement in brilliant messages. (It’s happening. Time to move on.)

He’d been with the Ravens for a short time a few months back, tried his hand with the Exchange, but nothing seemed to stick. Drifting was a dangerous pastime for a man like him. Apathetic in the extreme, he just did was he was best at – getting information, closing deals, and eliminating problems – because it kept him busy until he died. Problems seemed inconsequential after he’d seen the truth of the universe, but a man needed credits for drugs.

Speaking of which, the mid-level crime boss he’d been working for had sent him to look over some product. The holoimage Hades had been shown had a strange art he could appreciate and as a man who’d climbed the boss’s ranks practically overnight – and admittedly had a nose, pun intended, for drugs – he’d been chosen to see said product.

The shop itself was non-descript even down to the name, but not empty. Sprays of bright petals lined every wall and a few men were gathered, though Hades noticed none of the bouquets set up so finely. One could almost be convinced. Face long, he scratched at a junkie’s itch and spoke in a low, tired drawl to include himself in the Chiss’ silent inquiry. “Yeah, I’m here to see some flowers too.”

[member="Roger Kranos"] | [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Nergal"]​

 

[Roger Kranos]

Kranos strode up the stairs slowly, hearing the whispers of words that didn't seem to come from Seth. Not the loquacious sort, he decided between bouts of ups and downs, as the drug dealer stared out meekly from the corner of the wall, separating retail from the greenhouse. His blue eyes seemed to reflect just the slightest sporadic hint of being shot, his bloodshot extending through the entirety of his person as he bounced back and forth from the two figures now in his flower shop. One of many throughout Coruscant.

"SETH! WHAT THE FETH DID I TELL YOU!" He strode up to the man, standing quietly before Cryax and Hades. He shook a finger in his face and pushed him, the man seemed nearly un-phased. "I am so mad at you right now...go, downstairs right now!" Kranos pointed through the wall, towards the basement. He was feeling exceptional, that bit of spice just ingested really livened things up, as Seth sulked downstairs at the command. Kranos exhaled and turned his head towards the two. Folding his beard upwards, he placed the hairs in his mouth and started chewing as he squinted his gaze. Tilting his head, he pushed the beard back down and took a moment to straighten things out, situating his suit in timely fashion.

He approached the men. First thing he did was lean in towards the Chiss with a jerk, smelling his chest just at breast height, before staring towards the other man. He held up his hand, four fingers high. "Four questions...One, who are you?" He looked at Hades with a dazed expression. "Two, why do you smell so good?" He looked at Cryax. "Three, does this shirt look like silk? I got it ordered custom but as far as I can tell, it's nearly chaffed my nipples right off...which makes me think someone lied to me..." He shifted, rubbing his piercing as he rolled his eyes, holding up one last finger with a sort of pouting face. "And four, how do you all feel about drugs?" He raised his eyebrows to the question, a smile that pulled in his cheeks and revealed the top set of teeth. A goofy looking smile if there ever was one, just as a high hit him hard right in the face. He felt the numbness come over him, warm and soothing, as the lights of the flower shop turned to red snow flakes slowly descending upon the floor, accumulating in mounds of amber hills. Shaking violently, he looked back towards the two men with a suspicious eye, squinting with an obvious tick resulting from his lack of sleep. "You two...you seem like my sort of people."

He had a sense about these things, he knew these two were his kind. A natural sensitivity to the force had given him a leg up in the underworld, discerning the good from the bad. And then tossing the bad out with the flutter of quite spectacular eye lashes and a most glorious beard. He wanted the bad people and he could smell talent from miles away. These two both had it, he could feel it. Or maybe that was the Carsunum - Amazing quality.

[member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Nergal"]

 

[Yidhra]

There was a pounding pain behind his eyes, as if somebody had repeatedly stabbed his brain with a vibrodagger.

"Urghhh."

The owner of the throbbing head shifted on the crappy couch, jerking slightly as the wild dreams flashing behind his eyelids faded away.

"Bunneh!"

With that slurred cry, the man pulled himself upright, swaying on the spot as he tried to remember where he'd left his balance. A brutish hand wearing fingerless gloves shot out to feel around him, a blind man seeking guidance in a place he didn't know. His face scrunched up as he encountered a sticky, gooey substance on the floor beside him, withdrawing the wandering appendage as if he'd been burnt. He let out a deep, drawn-out groan at the physical exertion it took to pry his swollen eyes open, but it simply had to be done.

Bloodshot and beady, the murky blue gaze peered at the dimly lit room with uncertainty and distrust.

"The kark," his voice broke halfway through that eloquent exclamation, and his clean hand — well, cleaner hand — went to rub at his sore throat. Either his drink last night had been laced with glass shards, or he'd done a generous amount of shouting. Unfortunately the man didn't recall much beyond the entrance to a club, and he was content to let it remain a mystery. If the chipped nail polish on his fingers was any indication, his evening had been… interesting, to say the least.

He rose from the makeshift bed with a groan, popping all of his vertebrae in the process; or maybe that was just the couch sighing in relief, finally free of his weight. You see, Nergal doesn't exactly qualify for the feather-light category, and with the added bonus of a hungover bouncing around his skull, the man was sure to be a mouthful.

A questing tongue peeked out between his chapped lips as he tested the stale air of the room. There was the distinct smell of cheap perfume wafting around, and no matter where he moved, the mountain of a man couldn't get rid of it. It was almost as if… he stopped in his tracks as he spied his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and suddenly a number of details made sense.

"Well, kark." He shrugged at his unshaven visage, scratching the 5 o'clock shadow with the clean hand. Nergal reached over the counter without much effort and popped open a bottle of whiskey — fight fire with fire, baby — and then turned on the spot with a grunt, trundling off towards the stairs.

The beds in the back rose again with the sigh of hydraulics, revealing a swaying heap of muscle standing in the doorway, eyes closed and the neck of the bottle nearly all the way down his throat as he chugged his favorite medicine. He smacked his lips in delight, freshly rehydrated and much more ready to face another day on the streets.

After he changed out of his current getup, of course. Nobody would take him seriously if he came to extort money wearing a pink overcoat, glittery lip-gloss and a sign around his neck that read queen. Oh, the woes of an enforcer.

And then the man realized the shop wasn't empty, and his face fell like that of a child who has just been deprived of ice cream. Nergal blinked once, twice, staring at the odd clientele standing around at the front, and then slowly, the man set down his bottle of whiskey on the counter as he pulled himself to his full height.

"And who… are you?"

Spoiler: Bonus

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[member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Roger Kranos"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

An malodorous mixture of formaldehyde and rotten flowers assaulted Bane’s nostrils. The smell seemed to be coming from one of the three men, although he couldn’t tell which. The Chiss flicked the Holo off as he regarded the newcomers with sunken red eyes. From the looks of them, the Coruscant undercity grew monsters. Bane had intimate experience with monsters, and he had grown to like them. He faced the monster inside of him and tamed it, even though it left behind dregs of Sith magic in his veins and cyber legs. Something about the three figures in the Flower Shop stirred at his soul. Interesting. Not the men, themselves, although they were intriguing. These were obviously men who did bad things to good people. The most interesting thing was the fact that the Chiss found he had a soul left.

Nipple Rings began to question the two men in a nonsensical barrage that said he did not expect any answers. The other one who had just walked in, was junkie-thin and gristle-necked, with deep lines underneath his eyes like roads to nowhere. The third one, a hulk of a man, had emerged from the shadows of the Flower Shop’s back rooms, the pungent smell of whiskey and sex clouding around him where he stood. The three strangers seemed to have no idea who the Chiss was. Or if they did, they were keeping it to themselves.

“And who... are you?” asked the muscle-bound creature with traces of glitter stuck to his face.

Who was he? He was a man who knew that the world, the galaxy even, was wide open like a wound. You could simply reach your hands inside and take what you wanted. You might get your fingers sticky with blood, but it was worth it. It was always worth it.

“I’m just a man who knows how to get into places he doesn’t belong.”

[member="Nergal"] [member="Roger Kranos"] [member="Hades Michae"]

 

[Hades Michae]

In comparison to Hades, anyone would seem animated. Even still the man that came up the stairs was a show of color and sound that seemed to fly in the face of Hades’ grays and blacks. Long-faced and tired, only Hades’ eyes moved to track who he assumed was the owner of the establishment – and who also appeared to be on something the dead-man would love to get his hands on. The Chiss too was in direct opposition, a frenetic buzzing under his skin that made Hades hungry.

Four questions, however rapid-fire their spouting, wasn’t too much for him despite his outward appearance. He looked far older than he was, and half the time he didn’t look like he was paying attention. But his demeanor made for loose lips – who cared if the old-timer was listening? “I’m here on behalf of Yagé, needs some bouquets,” he answered, ignoring the query about how he smelled. He didn’t go in to much detail – the boss’s name would be enough to tip the guy with the beard off, being a decently placed crime boss on Coruscant. Hades also didn’t know much about silk shirts, shrugging at the comment about nipples. "Sounds like a personal problem." But he DID know a lot about drugs. If Hades had a ‘people’, he might have agreed this was a place he fit in. The final question was one he would have answered with ease were it not for the entrance of a truly large, truly confusing presence.

The dead-man was tall, but skinny with a fiend’s aesthetic. Not frail at all, but definitely not a match for the newcomer. Chewing on his lower lip a little, he ignored the way the whiskey crawled up out of the bottle and waved at him, waiting to be shown product he needed a little bit more with every passing moment.

[member="Roger Kranos"] | [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Nergal"]​

 

[Roger Kranos]

"YES! You are quite right..." He laughed as he sort of wafted his hand at the old looking fella. Laughing, he seemed to get choked up on his own humor as he knelt over, catching his breath. Standing up straight, he tucked his chin against his chest and made a stern face at the duo finding solace in his flower shop. What an odd group...and Yagé? He mentally shrugged as he turned his wide expression towards Nergal. His face didn't move so much as his entire body, stiffened by the mans abrupt entrance. "You..." he pointed an accusing finger towards Nergal as he squinted. "You!" His serious expression was cemented for a solid 4.25 seconds before it broke into a smile. "Looking good."

He gave a lingering nod, that type that people do to each other as they are walking down the street and pass each other but don't really want to say hello, before turning back to the dead looking fella and his blue friend. Were they friends? Didn't look like the man had many friends and the Chiss...maybe he had too many. Kranos clapped loudly and smacked himself in the face. "Focus!" The red imprint against his beard left no trace of the action as clarity took over, his gaze fixed once more. "Well...we have bouquets, as you can see." He waved to the arrangements, striding over gingerly. A bounce in his step, he knelt down and pulled some hair from his face. "This!"

He turned back to men, holding a planter in his hands. Lunging over to the counter, suddenly playing a game of 'floor-is-lava' with himself, he jumped clear on the counter top and knelt down, placing the planter on top of a switch. Turrets turned out from the ceiling tiles, swift as churned butter, before Kranos waved and shrugged it off, tapping the weapons with his finger-less gloved hand. The doors locked and barred with cold rolled steel bars, Seth ran out and blocked the door with his back. Kranos gestured for the men to approach and he knelt down and picked a piece of substrate from the planter.

"Glitterstim...we compress it into cobble and use it for substrate." He pushed his hands on the glitterstim and nodded to Hades. "You see that...Muscle!" He looked back to Nergal. "We just had an order for a single Mandalorian orange tree, we fill the planters with these cobbles and ship them as is, the authorities none the wiser." He scratched his beard. "It was odd, the man seemed more interested in the orange then the drugs...I mean, who doesn't like a good orange now and then." He cracked his neck and sat down on the counter, feet dangling and bouncing against the lacquered wood. Starring vacantly, he bounced his tongue back and forth from cheek to cheek, the protrusion jutting out the beard just slightly.. "Now, we are completely legitimate. We donate a modicum of proceeds to charity, buy off the authorities when we need it, and this is but the tip of the iceberg." He titled his head. "Nergal here is a dear friend so please treat him nicely. He looks tough but he really is quite sensitive." He focused on Hades, placing his hand right on top of one of them sore nipples. "I'm Kranos. I run this shop and many like it. And I think the assortment of us can benefit from mutually engaging interaction...and I have really good scotch...and a couple of riding crops." He raised his eyebrow, looking over to the Chiss with a jerk. "I saw that! Don't pretend like you don't like it!"

He paused, before leaning back and smiling. "You all wanna see the place?" Like a kid, showing off the goods, he wanted to move.

[member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Nergal"]

 

[Yidhra]

"Hrm."

Distrustful eyes stumbled warily over the faces of the two customers he didn't recognize. Now, not knowing them could either be a good or a bad thing. On the upside, they could've been the type to stick to the shadows or operate through intermediaries, which meant they were smart. On the downside — it sometimes included the aforementioned riding crops — unfamiliar meant new, and Nergal didn't like new.

Especially not when his head was pounding as if the Mandalorians were doing their war dance somewhere in there.

He readjusted his grip on the bottle as he dragged it off of the counter just in time to save it from the terrible fate of spillage and shattering. Nergal narrowed his already swollen eyes at the firm backside of one Roger Kranos that landed in that exact same spot only moments later, and the enforcer gave himself a mental pat on the back. Even in a hungover state, his reflexes were nothing to scoff at.

"Now," he cleared his throat in a futile attempt to regain his usually imposing baritone. "Don't believe all Kranos says. He's high," he waved in the general direction of the man in question as he pushed his way between the chiss and the emo. He groped them with complete lack of subtlety as that free — and, woefully, not clean —paw felt for any concealed weapons; the other was too busy delivering a steady stream of the amber-colored liquid to his sore gullet to join in on the inappropriate action.

Satisfied that none of them were packing anything more than the expected guns, Nergal turned back to the rows of potted plants and bouquets, expertly picking out one of the real ones with his keen eye. Well, they were keen usually, but the thrum of his alcohol-laden blood in his ears drowned out the last of the karks he could give.

He caught the neck of the bottle between his teeth, for the complex lattice of leather straps and clasps surrounding his hips and thighs required two hands to unfasten properly and with any semblance of quickness. Once that was done, the man happily pulled down the zipper and promptly relieved himself into the chosen pot.

Heh. Pot.

He sniffled as he rubbed an irritated patch of skin beneath his nose — had he done more than booze yesterday? — and then the enforcer pivoted slowly upon the axis of his foot, murky eyes coming to stare at the pair of unknowns in his shop.

Nergal didn't like unknowns.

"I think," he muttered as the bottle parted from his lips with a smack, "that I would like your names."

"Gentlemen."

[member="Roger Kranos"] | [member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Cryax Bane"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

Nipple Rings had the slap-happy jubilation of someone who had created his own cocktail of pharmaceuticals just to see what they would do if you mixed them all together. It was at once annoying and inspiring. The bearded man's tanned fingers rifled through dirt like a truffle hunter, pulling out the rich mulch from a potted plant and wittering on about glitterstim. In Cryax’s stim-addled mind, he could only follow about thirty percent of what the man was actually trying to get at, but his energy was infectious. A stark contrast to the gray-skinned fellow next to him, with his strange, gravelly drawl and taxidermy eyes. Bane appreciated the other newcomer's wry sense of humor as he remarked about Nipple’s shirt-chafing issue. Hiding behind that narcoleptic demeanor, there was something razor-sharp inside the man, crawling just underneath his flesh, ready to push itself out.

When Nipple asked if he’d like to see the rest of the place, the Chiss attempted an affirmative nod, but his head ticked to the side, a side effect of too many stim shots. The result was more of a head wobble, but he figured Nipple would get the gist.

Suddenly, a huge, meaty hand, with liquor seeping through the pores, ran wild over him, groping him. It was possibly the most intense frisking that Bane could ever remember having the pleasure of receiving. Then the man turned and pissed in a flower pot. There was something poetic about that, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. Finally, a deep voice growled a request. Cryax was reluctant to give up his delicious anonymity so soon, but in the event that one of them turned on a Holo news feed, his high-priced identity would eventually be unmasked.

“Cryax Bane.” he muttered, his red eyes cutting sideways, counting and noting all of the exits in the space, purely out of habit.

Was his value as a man who was known for numbers and lines that opened up mystery doors worth more than the price on his head? That depended entirely on who you asked.

[member="Nergal"] [member="Roger Kranos"] [member="Hades Michae"]

 

[Hades Michae]

The blank look on the bearded guy’s face at the mention of Hades’ employer wasn’t inherently surprising, and neither was the dead-man’s complete lack of affronted expression. He was in business for himself, and the propagation of Yage’s reputation was hardly his concern. The guy was a stepping stone to something bigger and better, and Hades found himself tilting his head back slightly and raising an eyebrow as he watched the enthusiastic explanation of business practice. He’d gotten pretty good at concentrating even under the influence of several mind-altering substances at once, but he was (almost) sober now and the distribution he was looking at…it was impressive. The quip about riding crops flew right over his head; try as he might, Hades was unable to feel anything resembling attraction or lust for any gender of any species. But he was nonetheless interested in a tour, and the good scotch. About to open his mouth for a question, he suddenly stalled when he felt a hand near big enough to wrap around his thigh digging around where he couldn’t remember giving permission to explore. Common enough practice however, Hades eventually settled in to the pat-down.

He felt the usual pang of resistance when asked for his name, though not for such grand reasons as a bounty or general infamy. It was merely habit – anonymity was a nice thing to have as long as someone in his line of work could keep it. He was saved the trouble of deciding for a moment when the Chiss shared his name: Cryax Bane. Hades looked at the Chiss out of the corners of his eyes, rolling his tongue in his cheek. He would have to actually live under a rock (as opposed to just appearing to do so) to have not heard that name in the company he kept, considering Hades’ brief stint with the Ravens and – of course – the huge price tag on the man’s head. Thankfully, though he didn’t know if the same could be said for the other two in the room, Hades valued talent and an ability to get things done over credits.

In short, he saw better opportunity in ignoring Bane’s current predicament than calling attention to it.

Shifting his attention back to Nergal – and what a name, seemed somehow perfectly representative – he slid his hands in his front pockets. “Hades Michae. And I’d like some of that scotch that was mentioned.”

[member="Roger Kranos"] | [member="Nergal"] | [member="Cryax Bane"]​

Spoiler

OOC: Guys...thank you SO much for being patient with me. Food poisoning, as I have discovered, was created by Satan - why else would something so good cause one so much pain????

 

[Roger Kranos]

"He's right ya know..." He paused, watching the two getting frisked by the muscly and fabulous enforcer. Blue eye chips scanned the blue man and cadaver looking friend. Once again, are they friends? What's going on there, they seem like they probably weren't. But it was a fun narrative to entertain while he watched the goings ons, the idea that these two diametrically opposed individuals were long time friends. The Chiss confiding in his zombie like friend about the woes of his bounties and fallen faction, left in the night, and the ghoul reciprocating on thoughts of whats it like to claw his way out from the soil on all hollows eve. Then, upon a chariot of rainbows and frolicking groves of apple orchards, the two hopped together in a skip along a neatly trimmed path, smiling from ear to ear, as they renewed their long time friendship with staycations in the fields of Kranos' conjuring.

Smiling, he blinked and shook his head to toss away the fantasy, the picturesque box landing on the floor and splattering into colorful ink, like a television made out of paint. He looked down at it as it evaporated into colorful vapors, breathed in by the other inhabitants. "My god...I am so high. Speaking of which..." He pulled a seed from his pocket and popped it, crunching down as he jumped from the countertop and landed in a surfer pose, arms held out front and back. The rattle of his gold necklace shimmered in the light as he swayed back and forth, his hips countering manifested displacement of balance upon imagined board, as he squinted at the coming tide and lifted his hand to shade the burning rays of the sun. The blue blanket, that white foam of fluff...so beautiful. Feeling the impact of gravity and the lingering pull and push of the moon, he stood up and smiled, straightening out his stylish clothes with a ruff yank down. "Cryax...Hades." He glared. "Nergal..." Waving his hand, he turned and gestured towards the back. "Follow me gentlemen."

As he led the drug dealer harem through the back walkway, they entered the humid greenhouse nestled in the confines of multiple abandoned warehouses, connected by newly constructed corridors. "Here we go..." He pointed to the raised beds as he created a path for the litter. "For Cryax, we have blueblossoms..." He pointed to the ornamental. "For Hades, we have nerfscourge...watch out for that pollen!" He laughed as he rubbed his hands together, moving into the arid greenhouses. "And for Nergal...a Kranos Cactus." He turned and gestured with his hands up, rocking back and forth, as he started to dougie. The cobbles felt weird to him, soft and like marshmallows, as he stomped down at the ground several times. Looking for the specific stone, he finally smacked it, and the raised bed lifted up once more, revealing the heart of the facility. "We package and manipulate drugs under the greenhouses and then use the plants to ship them. So, any questions? Or shall we go downstairs and see how the slave trade can be put to good use?" He paused and lifted his finger, as if stopping them from interjecting. "None of you all are opposed to slaves are you? Cause..." He pointed a backwards thumb to another section of the greenhouse. "We have this plant in the back and I'm actually experimenting on feeding it with fresh tears."

[member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Nergal"]