Based on this Mafia/Hitman Au from @novankenn/ Based on this Artwork from @pilot-boi
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Menagerie. A rather upstanding Nightclub and Burlesque show, with a rather specific ideal for clientele and workers; that is to say, it's a preferred haunt for Faunus, with what few humans joining usually being just as downtrodden and unfortunate as they are respectful.
Its owner and Manager, Kali Belladonna, was an industrious and respectable woman. she did her best to be, at least; though in these times, in these places, the dirty hands of the criminal underworld still reached out and held tight.
Thanks to her fervor and staunchness she managed to hold Menagerie as a neutral zone. Anyone may come so long as they respect the dancers and they leave their problems at the door, and not drag the 'mud' in.
And in that way it was a perfect meeting place.
The Faunus sat at a table, joined by several others. Roman Torchwick representing Miss Malachite, Someone sent from the Schnee family who gave the name "John Doe," Athena Nikos, leader of her family, and standing at the head of the table was the one that called them all together.
Prismeya Arc.
Her prosthetic whirred with each step as she paced, before she turned to the table, placed the foot of said prosthetic on it, and pulled a silenced pistol out its calf.
She inspected it, sliding it over to Kali.
"Just out of respect; I forgot it when I entered."
Kali Said nothing, sharpening her gaze at the Matri-Arc, her ears flicking in annoyance. She knew Prismeya Didn't forget, but she didn't quite understand what this play was yet.
"Now, as I'm certain you all know, I'm out of this game, out of this world. I dotted my i's, crossed my t's, and payed every debt I owed of both Blood and Money."
She pressed leaned over the table, glowering at the members of it.
"So I wish to know why my dear, Sweet Jaune, my Precious Baby-Boy Has such a Large BOUNTY ON HIS HEAD."
Her teeth were grit, clearly restraining herself from shouting.
Everyone looked to one another, offering no information.
Prismeya glared at each of them individually.
"Prismeya, you know I wouldn't have anyone- I'm in too deep as it is! It's hard enough to stay neutral, I wouldn't go after anyone on my call!" Kali retorted, clearly concerned that she was being threatened.
Prismeya pushed off the table and stood tall, taking a deep breath. "Then pray tell-" she focused on Kali "Why Jaune mentioned making friends with a certain Black-haired cat faunus named Blake?"
Kali's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "SHE'S SAFE? BLake's okay?"
Prismeya was taken aback "You didn't know?"
"No."
"Then take this as a favor; she was last seen at a Department store in a mall in Vale proper, Retrieve her. That being said-" Prismeya ran her eyes across everyone, standing at her full height "Whoever set the Hit can call it off, and I will forgive them. No harm; No foul. But, should the Hit be fulfilled, Whoever Claims it, dies. Whoever set it Dies."
She let the words sink into the four at the.
Athena stared at her, eyes set right upon her.
Roman Put his cigar out, clearly considering her promise behind the otherwise aloof look in on his face.
Kali set her ears flat, grim knowledge sitting uncomfortably in her gut.
The Schnee's pawn had no notion of concern or care, unseen behind his sunglasses.
Athena turned slightly in her seat, her whole body now facing Prismeya.
"I assume one of mine has taken it upon themself?"
"You Daughter, Pyrrha."
Athena went rigid. One of the few things could sent chills down her spine was her daughter being in danger, and to be beholden to the Ire of Prismeya Arc was to be declared dead.
Roman slung his cane over his shoulders, rest his arms on it. "So we're here to deliver a warning, yeah? Good to know. Could've been an email though."
Prismeya walked over to the man. "An email is ephemeral; non existent. An email is not physical; It cannot hold water."
She tore the cane from him, emptying the round out, snapping it over her knee, her non-prosthetic knee.
He seemed truly taken aback by it first angered, but his rage was quickly supplanted by fear.
The Schnee Spokesman drew his own weapon, a silenced 22. pistol, and aimed it at Prismeya
Prismeya cupped Roman's chin, ignoring the burly man in the black suit, and tilted Roman's head up. "This is far more important to me than you could possibly imagine with what little grey matter exists under that mop of red hair~ I needed to have this meeting so people like you could understand that~"
And then she turned to the Schnee Representative, who hadn't lowered his weapon.
"I Suggest you put that down. It was rude enough for Mr. Torchwick to bring his weapon, but at least he had the decency to make it inconspicuous~"
The lilting of her voice was laced with a venom that could curdle the blood of any living being that understood what she was saying.
The Man, John Doe, Set his pistol shakily on the table.
Prismeya returned to her place at the head of it.
"So, I would like you all to spread the word; Should this Hit persist and come to fruition ... The Bloodmoon will rise, Drowning All in its Tide; Painting with Red, with The Blood of the Dead; For each life cut short, an Equal retort."
Prismeya smiled, the corners of her mouth wrinkled with age. In any other context it would have been warm, delightful, outright motherly. To all at the table it was deadly; The Rattle of a Snake, the fin of a circling shark, Click of a Hammer being pulled back.
Everyone there knew her Threat- nay, her promise.
Whether they comprehended the depth of it was a another matter entirely.
