In The Belly of The Beast [Azmot / Open]

She had come straight from the Kwaon rainforest, trusting that the boy - her newest addition - would be able to find his way here. There had been minimal trouble on her way to the residential district, or at least, minimal by MadCross standards. A few thugs had threatened her for her money, thugs she didn't have the time to deal with... thugs that no longer hands to steal with. Dismemberment was something of a hobby of hers, preferring to slowly mutilate rather than go for the quick kill. It was much more satisfying to take away a man's livelihood, his spirit, and to watch him squirm, rather than giving him the quick relief of death. Where was the fun in that? There wasn't any, at least not to her. She revelled in agony, found pleasure in torture... pure bliss, like a warm flame that burnt within her, yearning for the screams of weaker men.

The small apartment building was not difficult to find, but the mark she had made was not obvious to those who weren't looking for it. Many of the buildings around these parts were littered with graffiti, gang signs and various tags, so her little marking was of no real significance. Except of course to her, and to those she trusted. She entered the small building without unlocking the door, she had yet to have someone come and replace the locks since she moved in, but at the moment there was nothing much inside, so it was of little consequence. Any home invaders would've been obliterated by the woman as soon as they entered anyway, nobody in this universe - nobody that she had met, anyway - posed much of a threat to her. They were all either about on her level, or a little weaker, and here she had the home advantage anyway. She could handle just about anyone who might've come along.

She moved through the small house to the living room, picking up a box full of papers from the table and hauling it over to the couch. She sat down, placing the box at her feet, before grabbing and opening the first folder. She had commissioned a young man to collect the required information, a sort of test of competence, for something she had planned. And so, waiting for Azmot, she began to read. On the front of the folder, the word 'MADCROSS' was written in thick, bold letters.

"Are we all set?" Jake sat impatiently in the residential area, his expression unsure. "I mean, he's actually harder to find than I thought he'd be. How do you know he'll be here?"

"We don't, sir." A sigh. "We've taken precautions. Hopefully he'll come."

"He'd better. I've seen him fight twice. I would like to at least have something to hold over his head, as meager as it is."

"I've not seen you grasp like this sir."

"Well there's been a recent influx of cleverness and its straining my brain muscles. Its quite exciting really. More or less, I want pawns lined up on the board before I start my endgame." He tapped his foot against the metallic sidewalk beneath him, the bronze buildings and junk patched with meta sheets and strips showing around him. The ocean was beautiful today-- the glass panels let in the light from the large window panes reinforced with plexa-glass and fiber glass... essentially, it was everything proof unless somebody rammed a train into it. So, not train proof. He glanced back at the building; maybe he was reaching for something here. He wanted control more than death, and would prefer not to kill Etzolix if at all possible. If would be a difficult task to accomplish as long as he could portal. He was certain though that he'd listen to what Jake had to say. If he showed up, that is. Hopefully the boy would show up. He still wasn't even sure how that was supposed to even work. Did they leave a trail of candy? A note? Who could say.

Azmot walked around in the Residential District, looking for the trident thingy that the woman had shown here. Honestly, the slap wound still hurt and he kind of resented her for it, but it was physically healed so whatever. The place was, honestly, a garbage can. Azmot had heard about how Madcross was so great, but the entire thing looked like a shithole. Even the capitol district had some factor to it. And the people, oh, the people! They were dreadful. And the "abundance" of food didn't account for the taste; nothing compared to the culinary arts of... well, the Jungle, at most. And though every one was pretty much employed, no one knew what the fuck they were doing. Azmot had seen a garbage man crash the truck into a house. And from today's newspaper, this was one of the GOOD days! What a fucking utopia.

Azmot finally managed to reach the house with the symbol. He walked in, hoping to find the masked woman inside.

Sorry Yukina, this topic is locked until Azmot decides to change his post into one that doesn't piss me off.
---Blueman