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In downtown Chang'an, a hot pink fog permeated the crowded Balisong Bar. In it sat a mustachioed silhouette, laughing uproariously in the company of vixens paid to laugh along. He'd just struck the deal of his lifetime, following a secret rendezvous with the East Side-domineering guild known only as "The Vespers". Things were looking up for his perfume business; soon, he'd have everything he could ever want for. The man counted his coins with sickening glee. Six tall drinks and an exquisite steak sat before him, and he saw fit to request one more. Then... "DustBoy!" a gruff voice boomed, as the sliding door to his left burst open to reveal pinstripes. Startled like a rabbit, the fellow named DustBoy took a panicked last bite of his steak before immediately jumping through a window. He escaped to the busy streets, winding past gaggles of clubgoers in a desperate attempt to shake off Tusk's men - yet his pursuers kept on closing in, their signature colors moving in a dreadful blur amongst all the vibrant lanterns and glowing signs that lined his vision. Any way he spun it, he knew he was doomed. Short on breath, the man quickly ducked into a back alley between a restaurant and a massage parlor. He stuffed his flashy green robe in a barrel, and waited. A minute passed. No stripes of any kind to be seen. With a smug little snort, he fixed his slicked-back hair, believing himself to be home free - when suddenly one of Tusk's gorillas came bursting through one wall and launched DustBoy through the other, sending him tumbling into a dim-lit storeroom. Crumpled on the floor, he watched in horror as one by one, the pinstriped men entered through the fresh hole in the wall... but rather than beat him into a pulp as they were wont to do, they all stepped aside and cleared the way for one more thug. In strode Brine, a long wooden bat resting on her shoulder. Sporting a new wardrobe - fully at home with the company - the girl stared down at the cowering man. "Wh-Who the hell are YOU?!" DustBoy wheezed at her, his aching back pressed against a shelf. Brine only sneered back at first, tilting her adorable newsboy cap with her free hand. Her bangs were shorter. "Isn't it obvious? I'm the one they sent out to GET you, see?" With a grin, she pointed her bat at him - the maple wood lovingly inscribed with the words "Spirit Crusher!". "Th-This is ludicrous!" DustBoy loudly protested, his moustache curling up with outrage. "Has Tusk really stooped so low that he'd send a CHILD to do his dirty work?! I PITY you!" Brine's eye twitched. She'd just turned twenty-one. One of the thugs chortled behind her. "Zatknis'!! Need I remind you who's holdin' the bat?!" She clicked her tongue, signaling her fellow goons to hoist DustBoy by his arms, propping him up for her. "Y'know, we did you a SOLID lettin' you into our fold. Your lil' smoky sticks are like, subpar at best. But cheating on us? Ooh, that's a clobberin'..." The girl puckered her lips in a little pout and brandished her bat threateningly - clearly getting a kick out of this. Suspended in the air, the man's face froze with fear. "'Sides, relax... I'm not gonna kill you or anything. I'm just gonna make your new gig a lil' less sustainable, see?" Brine started tapping her bat on his shoulders in a rhythmic fashion. Her cohorts exchanged looks. "Now, real quick~... Are you a lefty or a righty?" DustBoy went pale, before reluctantly giving his answer. Whatever sounds came out of the alleyway next would be drowned out by the nightlife. | |