seen from Russia
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seen from Malaysia
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OPEN STARTER: UN-VALENTINES DAY PARTY.
@mobscene-starters
Olivier pressed his hand to the side of his cheek, scoffing loudly before his eyes shot up, shoulders shrugging as if he was getting ready to cause an even bigger issue --- he was far too drunk for this.
‘‘Okay, I see---’‘ He states. ‘‘Let’s take this outside.’‘
@mobscene-starters
TYPE: OPEN TO ALL. LOCATION: A FRENCH OWNED BUILDING.
Olivier stalked slow and precise, back flat against the wall while a gun was drawn and ready. Ready to play dirty, and there was nothing that he wouldn’t do. Each step taken was calcuated and silent, the only sound was the drumming of his heart beat in his ears.
Teeth gritted in that aggitation which had taken its home within him.
Turning to face the now open room, it appeared empty and the vast room, he took no time to study the architecture or the walls that were lined with the fine art and hisotrical books. No, he was here to find out what the distrubance was.
Something had set the alarms off, and he was there to do his job.
He took a glance to each exit and hiding place, everything seemed to be in order which caused his brows to furrow together in confusion. Something was amiss here, even he couldn’t deny it but after a few more moments he lifted his finger to press on the ear peice that kept him connected to the control. ‘‘I’m inside--- room appears clea--’‘ He stopped on his words, a small flutter of a curtain caught his attention, and instantly shifted back into his warrior stance.
Those alarms hadn’t been wrong. There was someone here. Hididng.
‘‘I can make this easy for you, or very, very hard.’‘ Olivier muttered with a tone of cold death.
LOCATION — Outside Un Nouveau Départ (aka Emilia’s shelter) in Camden. DATE — June 10th, 2023. STARTER — OPEN @mobscene-starters
She’d just finished unpacking all her shit in one of the tiny, pastel-coloured Barbie rooms of the shelter which was gonna be her new home. For abused women...
... But weren’t they all?
Everyone had trauma to throw around like a bargaining chip these days, and those who didn’t, seemed to wish they could be in on it too. Which made it even funnier to watch the French play Guardian Angels; as though the only perpetrators of abuse could be the Russians and the only victims – of course – could be non-русский.
... Not that Nico cares. She’s neither French nor Russian, she’s just here to play the game. Fishing a lighter out of her pocket, she waves down the nearest passerby on the street. “Got a smoke?’ She asks, pretending she doesn’t have a full pack upstairs.
Two months in and London’s proving to be ridiculously expensive.
LOCATION — Some fancy bar. DATE — February 2023. STARTER — Open @mobscene-starters
Splashing a bit of water on his face to help sober up seemed like the prudent antidote to having a couple drinks that were higher in strength than Gideon had realized whilst consuming them. Then again, the added punch of alcohol seemed necessary tonight. The only way to grin and bear it on a surgical social night to which he had been very reluctantly dragged under the guise of ‘sustaining team spirit’ in the hospital.
It also doubled as a good excuse to escape the socializing for a few minutes... Or so he thought, until he heard what sounded like someone crying, just as he was about to enter the pretentiously lavish communal washroom. The surgeon hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. He didn’t particularly want to rejoin the boisterous crowd, and he was admittedly both curious and concerned about the tearful sound coming from the other side of the door. He gave a knock before calling out a warning.
“You okay in there? ‘Bout to enter... Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
LOCATION — Gideon’s Home. DATE — September 4th, 2022 STARTER — Closed for @msmelissalin
Despite the cool reassurance in her text, Gideon had taken some precautions.
He’d alerted Damon about his impending visitor but had insisted they be given the privacy to have the conversation that Melissa demanded. Only if he hadn’t heard back within a certain time frame was Damon to follow-up and escalate as he saw fit.
In the meantime, Gideon had taken to pacing the kitchen floor, trying unsuccessfully to keep his nerves at bay. Surely, she wouldn’t kill him... Right? He wanted to believe what she’d said in her text, and the practical side of his mind argued that even if the sentiment was a lie, it’d be too great a mistake for Melissa Lin to bring her boss’ son to any real harm. But the more fearful side of his brain argued that it would be exactly the sort of ‘fuck you’ she was inclined to give his father right now, and that if Melissa was ever to go rogue from the organization, offing Andrew Rutherford’s eldest child would’ve been one hell of a way to send a goodbye message.
And so he waited. Mind divided, nerves on edge.
He’d asked her here under the cover of darkness, not wanting to draw attention to himself either way, nor to be linked to Melissa Lin publicly, despite the corporate lawyer’s still-impeccable image in the press. If her ulterior line of work was ever discovered, the neurosurgeon couldn’t risk the association. They both knew that.
Finally, the doorbell rang.
LOCATION — Nora’s home. DATE — September 4th, 2022 STARTER — Closed for @noraberkeley
He hadn’t slept.
His heart was racketing in his chest and his stomach was somesaulting in that nauseating way that threatened the loss of its contents at any given moment.
Gideon swallowed and took in a deep breath. Knuckles poised against her door before he gave the wood a knock far firmer than he felt.
When the door finally, mercifully opened, he could tell that she hadn’t slept much better than him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, expression uncharacteristically somber.
“Please Nor... Just let me explain.”
LOCATION — The London Awards @ The Royal Albert Hall. DATE — April 1st 2022. STARTER — closed for @yanakurylenko
When it comes to his loved ones, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Yana Kurylenko may have gotten the upper hand on him once, with the element of surprise in her corner, but she’s not about to be so lucky a second time. Not with cameras flashing everywhere, threatening to immortalize the slightest faux-pas on glossy, front-page paper. Not with Adri here somewhere, likely unawares.
It’s why, when he catches sight of her, Gideon wastes no time in cutting her path off smoothly, forcing her to stop just short of crashing into him. “Well well well, won’t you look at that... Hitler’s Wet Dream. Not so fast, darling.” He smiles; all charm for the cameras, even as his gaze slips from pale hair, to her white-on-white ensemble.
“Take five out of your plans for a Master Race. We have some catching up to do. Remember last time?” No, he won’t forget a wrong, and he certainly won’t forgive it.
LOCATION — The Wolseley, London DATE — March 12th 2022 STARTER — closed for @cassandra-acton
He’s more nervous about this than he should be, given they aren’t strangers.
But in some ways, it’d be easier if they were. He and Cassie never do this; not like this at least, just the two of them, just a social brunch. And it’s important that it goes well. Maybe more important than it’s ever been to him before.
“I’m glad you turned up... Was afraid you might not come.” He says it with a sheepish smile, jumping up to get her chair before taking his own again, right opposite her.
Gideon realizes with a certain kind of bittersweetness that the last time he was so invested in anticipating her moods and keeping the peace between them, it was for Harrison’s funeral. The occasion is a mercifully joyous one this time around, but it won’t stay that way unless he makes sure they don’t beeline towards some instinctual quarrel. It’s always been far too easy for him and Cassie to do just that. “I saw your post, by the way,” He begins, not wanting to keep her in the dark too long, lest she grow suspicious about why they’re meeting. The man hands her a menu across the table, grey eyes flickering up briefly to meet hers. He keeps his expression warm.
“ – I wanted to congratulate you in person.”
