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 Down the Rabbit Hole, Nathaniel Halstead [C]
Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Mar 10 2018, 09:30 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

Blue, purple, and pink, with splashes of orange lined the skies, slowly, but steadily, darkening over the tops of the foliage outside. It would have been a picturesque view provided by one of the rooms purchased at the Bedford Hotel, if the actual reasoning behind their visit hadn’t been so precarious. The certainty of the situation before them had been replaced by doubt and trepidation. In truth, Cezanne wasn’t certain what to expect once they reached Wonderland Hotel, owned and run by Jessica Fontaine. Even more, he had yet to mention that fact that there might be an organization, a cult, in fact, being housed there for this particular event, to Nathan. The journalist claimed ignorance, feigning to be just as in the dark as the detective he brought with him. But then, why mention something that might not even be true? What if they arrived at their destination to just find a couple old perverts exploiting innocent women.

The blackening sky shared a truth with him, one he didn’t want to believe quite yet. So, Cezanne looked away, eyes shifting to the clock on the nightstand by the bed. The clock stared back at him. It’s numbers showing him the exact same truth he knew. It was almost time. This had been his idea, and although Cezanne wouldn’t admit, he felt as though he were on a ship in the middle of a storm, doomed to wait it out and see what happened. No way of knowing what to expect, no way to plan things out. In short, no real control over the situation. It was a feeling he wasn’t comfortable with. The anticipation bringing on unwanted anxiety. He looked down at the black robe folded neatly in his arms and the mock invitation laying on top or the garment.

The journalist thought about what was at stake. Too late to turn back now. Things had already been set into motion.

His phone went off in his pocket. Their transportation had arrived. Somerville Key was a decent stretch of land, lined with multiple resorts throughout it. Wonderland Hotel was known to be rather exclusive with it’s guests. During certain seasons, the hotel would open to all, then close down to listed members only during certain months. Looking at that information now, it made sense. But they wouldn’t be going straight there, from one hotel to the next. The invitation said to go to the docks at Wilk’s Lake. Wilk’s Lake being located in the middle of nowhere, though roughly about halfway from Bedford hotel, on the edge of the island, to Wonderland Hotel. Perhaps it was to ensure those with invitation were the only ones arriving at the hotel.

“All right, time to go,” Cezanne said, turning to Nathan. He moved over to the man, handing the detective the items, the only items, he hoped they would need. ”Here you are. Your mask, your invitation,” he paused briefly, handing Nathan the robe last. “And your robe. Size extra-small,” he laughed, trying to ease the tension. It sort of worked, if only for himself. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, before remarking, “I guess we’ll see what happens.” Then added a small shrug.


“We’re almost there,” the driver stated, as instructed by the pair behind him. “Thanks,” Cezanne said, looking out the window at the dense overgrowth. It was better to go the rest of the way on foot. He wanted a chance to scope out the situation instead of just driving up to it blind.

“Uh, are you sure? I mean, I can drive you right up there. It’s not a problem.” The car slowly pulled to a stop. Cezanne and Nathan got out of the car. Cezanne reassured the man once again, “No. We’re sure. We like to walk.” The driver gave the pair a scrutinizing, disbelieving look, before taking off the way he had come. The dim glow of the taillights disappearing in the night. The two began to walk towards the docks, the sounds of their footsteps on the dirt the only noise between them.

There was a pathway leading to their destination, but Cezanne decided to take Nathan and himself the indirect route, through the thicket. “I’d rather not get chased down by a bunch of masked cultists and sacrificed to the woodland gods,” he added as an explanation. There it was, the truth that there might be a cult involved. He said it, and now they were both seeing it, as they got closer to the docks. It was definitely not just a few old perverts. There seemed to be quite a few masked figures waiting, their cloaks traipsing along the wooden boards of the landing.

It was nothing too alarming, no strange chants or blood lettings. The journalist and the detective put their cloaks and masks on, then made their way to join the others. As they got closer, Cezanne noted how most everyone was standing in silence, though there were a few people whispering among themselves. The whispering ceased, all the white faces turned to the new arrivals, black emotionless slits staring, unblinking. There was a brief pause, then they tilted their heads to regard them. There was something else the journalist noted, something made painfully apparent now. Their masks, none of them had the gold etchings like the ones he had fashioned for themselves, like the one Bernard had in his closet. The silence was deafening. And just like that, the tension cleared, the few speaking before continued mutering their conversation to each other.

This was the correct dock. This was the correct time. Why had Bernard’s mask been different. No one seemed to care any longer. Cezanne could only hope his major oversight wouldn’t become an issue.

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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Mar 13 2018, 02:07 AM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


Out of his comfort zone was an understatement for the detective. This was on the complete opposite, first off going in without back up, if that wasn't bad enough they were going in blind, and given how prickly and bossy his new journalist friend was, he'd told no one. If something went wrong on this undercover job, they would be fucked. He wasn't used to not having back-up, wasn't used to his back being unprotected. His whole life he'd been in a team, followed the stringent guidelines for both the institutions he was a part of and now here he was going in blind and with a civilian. What the hell had he been thinking... why did he let Cezanne talk him into keeping this thing a secret? Well, it was too late now.

He sat still on one of the queen beds, his mind trying to go over things. Trying to at least think if this happened, then this, if this then that. To top it off he was leaving his firearm behind because if they got searched he couldn't have that on him. While he sat there watching his watch, elbows on his legs. His frame leaning over fingers laced in front of him, his mind went back to Ottoman. The dead director of the dance school. He'd dug into it, looked over all the reports, but nothing suggested foul play. Of course, that didn't mean there wasn't, but at least on record Ottoman had died of an overdose. A dirty old man who took it too far and accidentally ended up dead, or suicide? If you ask the coroner, it was just that, a suicide. Of course, the media and the school were all spinning tales about what happened. The facts remained, no signs of foul play, open and shut. No case.

That was why he was here right now because this was it, this was the chance to see if there was an actual bigger case. To decide if at least for themselves, whether Ottoman's death was of natural causes or murder. He looked up at Cez when he finally spoke, Nate realized it was time. Well, he wasn't the type to shy away from a mission, he took the things Cezanne offered him. Taking his robe last, as Cezanne cracked a joke about the size, Nathan couldn't help at laugh and shake his head at the beautiful journalist jab at his height.


Nathan had exited the vehicle along with Cez, walking along behind him, when he suggested they take an untraveled route, Nate nodded and followed. It was once he heard his words that Nate paused, came to a shocked stop. He reached out turning Cez to face him. Now angrily whispering, "A cult?! A fucking cult?! Cezanne you didn't think this was a relevant thing to share?! We came out here alone, versus how many?!" Cez just kept walking, before Nate could strangle him, the detective's attention was distracted by the robes on all the people waiting at the dock. Well too late now, time to jump into the deep end, he too pulled the robe on, then the mask, and then the hood.

He followed his partner out onto the dock looking at the others masked faces as he did so. It was incredibly unnerving not being able to see their faces, not being able to read the room sort of speak. He noticed something from the few white faces closest to him, none of their masks had gold on them. A cold chill ran down his spine, his eyes were already scanning for ways out, for anything he could use as a weapon, careful not to move his head around as not to give away what he was doing. He unclenched his asshole once they all looked away, he was already sweating, and they hadn't even left.

Part of him had that gut feeling not to get on the boat that was approaching the dock. He might've gone with that gut feeling if he didn't know that his partner would go on this mission either way. He would never leave a man behind. So he stepped onto the boat when it was his turn, handing the man his invitation, Cez following him, once all were on board, the boat started to its destination. He stood with his back to the other guests, watching the dock grow smaller in the distance. The anticipation was palpable in the air. It wasn't too long before the boat was docking and guests began to unload from their transport and onto another dock. This one is leading to a torch-lit path. He kept his head forward, and just followed along with the other guests as they started their way towards golf carts that were waiting for them, to take them to the hotel.

The Detective noticed, that most of the guests had bare ankles, while that might be normal for women who might be in dresses. Most men wore pants... Jesus Christ where they all-- wearing shorts?! nothing beneath the robes?

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Mar 13 2018, 02:09 AM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

Cezanne’s eyes searched the crowd. All the masks were the same, all white. That meant Bernard wasn’t there. According to the man’s invitation, he should have been. The idea that this could have been a setup, came to mind. But there was no possible way Bernard knew that Cezanne had searched his room. No, it was just paranoia. The mind races, thinking of all possibilities, even the absurd ones. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t let it settle. Not even with the detective’s words ringing in his mind.

"A cult?! A fucking cult?! Cezanne, you didn't think this was a relevant thing to share?! We came out here alone, versus how many?!" ”Don’t worry about it,”Cez-Lisa responded. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

”Versus how many?” They wouldn’t have to verse anyone at all if they did this right. They could be in an out that’s what a hamburger’s...all about. Just kill me. without anyone even knowing they had been there in the first place.

His attention was drawn to the water, as a few boats came into view. The other folks began coming closer along the dock, readying their invitations. Cez mimicked what he saw. The situation was beginning to feel surreal, watching the ferryman approach as though he were Charon, about to take them across the rivers Styx. Was he being dramatic? Maybe they’d start chanting: Dead men tell no tales. Dead men tell no tales...

This wasn’t Disneyland though, and if Nathan could hear Cezanne’s inner thoughts, he’d most likely tell him that this wasn’t a joke either. The journalist knew that fact, it was just a coping mechanism. He didn’t like the uncertainty. But, no risk, no reward.

The boats came up along the landing. When one approached the dock Nathan and Cez were closest by, the other cloaked members waited, their heads tilting ever so slightly to look at the pair. They were waiting on them. Nathan was the first to move, handing the ferryman his invitation. The man took it, bowing his head and gesturing for him to alight onto the boat. Cez followed close behind, imitating his partner’s in crime actions. Once seated, the ferryman got back onto the small vessel. No one else was going to join them. And now, the journalist was beginning to think the difference in the masks meant something. You think?! He inwardly admonished himself. How was he supposed to know though? He could only imagine what Nathan must be thinking right now. Nothing good. Cezanne didn’t even want to look at him, not even with the mask on, knowing that Nathan couldn’t even tell if he was looking at him. Despite the cool breeze blowing past them, skimming over the water’s surface, the journalist felt hot under his cloak, trapped within its confines.

The boat ride didn’t last long, and Cezanne found himself half wishing that it had lasted longer. But soon enough, they had reached the docks on the other side of the lake. The other guests weren’t far behind the pair, as they made their way along the torchlit path. Nothing said walking to some sacrificial ritual like being led along a pathway lit by torches. It would have been laughable, how serious everyone was being about this, were they not a party to the circumstances. Cezanne kept telling himself it wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought. That it would all end up being some sort of overdone, over-the-top, costume party with a few ridiculous chants. In the back of his mind, however, lurked an unmistakable fear. What if it was as bad as the worst he had pictured?

He had once read a story about a hotel in California, located somewhere in Palm Desert, along the highway. A seemingly rundown, sleepy little pitstop, but in reality, unimaginable things took place there. The venue was finally shutdown when an undercover policeman officer went there and discovered it’s insidious truth. The parties being held there, they weren’t solely for the eccentric and wealthy but those harboring something dark and malevolent inside them. Not so unlike those present at Wonderland tonight. The article stated that there had been a prostitute involved in one of the so-called “events”. Her newborn baby was served to the guests as their dinner. Naturally, the prostitute was murdered as well. It was quite a story, one that the journalist remembered to this day. More so now, than ever.


They finally reached the hotel. There had been a decent span of time between the docks and the golf cart ride there, in which the journalist tried to remember any details he could about the area in the event they needed to get away in a hurry. He wondered what time it was, or did time stop moving all together in places such as these?

The building was Victorian style. About ten years ago there had been a massive renovation to the place, about the time Jessica had inherited the property, no doubt. Originally, the building had been constructed as the home of Richard Fontaine, a wealthy port owner, and his family. As the generations moved on, the port was sold off, the shares divided up among the relatives. Cut to now, Jessica Fontaine being Richard’s great-great- granddaughter, who has little more than the slowly draining wealth of her trust fund. There really wasn’t much information about the woman. Other than turning the mansion into a hotel and running it, she did little else with herself aside from enjoying the art scene, though it wasn’t clear whether or not she had any actual artist talents of any kind. It gave the journalist cause to ruminate over the mystery of how she became part of all of this. With any luck, their investigation would yield some answers or connections.

Tall trees throughout a vast landscape lined the exterior of the building. Pathways leading through hedges and gardens, where people could take leisurely strolls while listening to the sound of the water features and the wild life. Are you interested in this property? Schedule a private viewing today! Yes, it was in every sense, a quiet getaway. All of it very pretty, and yet, tainted. The interior, once they had been led inside, was what you would expect. It was well renovated adding a few modern amenities, of course, but kept with relatively the same theme of its original construction. All dark wood, red carpets and dim lighting. Stuffy, like an old library. Actually, the property probably had an old library somewhere.

After reaching the lobby, the man leading them turned, bowed, and exited. They were on their own. Not entirely alone, those close behind began to step forward, making their way to some known location of the building on the other side of the lobby. The distant sound of chatter being muffled by the loud classical music echoing in the lobby hall and throughout the structure itself. It appeared as though the guests were heading to what could possibly have been a ballroom of sorts.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Cezanne whispered his trite phrase, before following the rest of the lot. There were noises coming from the other side of the double doors that made Cez want to pause. Then the doors opened and the journalist found himself speechless at the scene before him.

It was no wonder the music was so loud, there was a goddamn orgy going on. The smell was intense, and the cacophony of moans, grunts, and other noises made it hard to concentrate. Sheets and cushions were strewn about all over the extensive area and everyone was just having at each other in any way they pleased. It was a sight to be sure. On either side of the room there were double doors, open, where apparently the “party” just kept going. The journalist looked up, observing the room in its entirety. Up above, on either side of the place where two balconies lining the walls which led to a room on the opposite end of the chamber. Three figures walked along the balcony on the right side. One stood out among them, judging by the bun in her platinum hair, the person was female. Platinum hair with faded purple streaks. He knew someone with that exact same hair, same exact style of wearing it. Clara. His eyes moved to the person beside her, similar bun, dark brown hair. Maybe...Olga. The figure behind both girls had on a mask with gold etchings. Cez wondered if he and Nathan would be able to get up there with their masks...but would it be too obvious? A fourth figure came out of the room the three were heading towards, unlike the volto masks, this person’s mask had a Medico Della Peste theme to it, lined with large black feathers. How ostentatious of them. Whoever it was must have been important. Their stature was that of a male. The presumeable man, waited until the three newcomers had entered the room, before placing his hands on the balcony rails, surveying the display below. Eventually, the mask turned it’s way to the pair, causing Cezanne to look away.

“Right or left?” Cez’s muffled voice asked Nathan through the mask. Standing there wasn’t going to get them any answers. He ventured a look back up at the balcony, the figure was gone. G-g-ghooost!

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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Mar 13 2018, 02:10 AM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


’ Don’t worry about it,’ and ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Oh well sure, whatever you want your highness. Because if you say you don’t want to talk about your lying ass, then hey, we won’t. They would talk about it, but not now, first they had to survive this. The further in they went the more Nate worried, the more his instincts were screaming to turn back. The other guests had waited for the pair to lead, more and more it was becoming clear their masks meant something in their ranks. It would make it that much more difficult to blend in, the fact that no one could see their face, was, at this moment the only thing keeping him from losing his shit. No one else got on their boat like they were special snowflakes, they rode alone. He rode in silence he wished they didn’t have the driver within earshot so they could talk. Instead, he finally took his seat riding the rest of the way quietly.


When those double doors had been opened, the scene that laid before them was beyond what he’d assumed they would find. It unfolded for him like those scenes in the movies, everyone riding around in slow motion. There was so much going on, the other guests they’d come waisted no time in dispersing throughout the room, and joining in. One of those figures parted his robe, what Nate feared was true. Under these robes most of them were naked. He couldn’t help at wonder who the ones already deep into the orgy were, or rather how come they had been invited at a different time. Did they do this in stages? Or were there levels to the cult? Just as that thought popped into his mind, his attention was drawn upward by the black feathered masked man as he was staring right at them. He bowed his head to him and then moved his gaze back down. Upon hearing Cezanne’s question, Nate’s response came quick but quiet. ”Right.” Because if they went right, that meant they’d be underneath the blackbird, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. Or so he assumed, given he couldn’t see his face.

He strolled, following his partner, moving his face around leisurely, taking in every riding body they passed, lingering on a few of them. They had to fit in; they had to seem interested in joining in on this party, I mean orgy. Had to appear like they were looking for the right thing to wet their beaks. A hand wrapped around him traveling down his chest to her target, cupping him. The voice was thick, but a woman’s as she whispered in his ear. ”I want a taste, sir." He gave a soft chuckle taking her hand, and he turned to face the masked lady. He brought her hand up to the white lips of the mask. Without allowing himself time to hesitate, he pretended to kiss each fingertip as he pulled her close, saying in a soft whisper, ”Sorry, I belong to him, perhaps later on.” He let her go, and turned following Cez, he took his hand as he caught up to him. He felt dirty, and he had a feeling it would only get worse. This way if they assumed they were a couple, no one would question why they stayed joined at the hip.

The next room was worse than the orgy in the main ballroom if you can believe it. He couldn’t help coming to a standstill, the scene before him made him sick, but he forced himself to look, or at least make it seem like he appreciated the view, even if his eyes were scanning the crowd.

There was a small round stage in the middle of the room, with two spotlights, one above and one below. The stage floor seemed to be clear. On the stage was a ballerina, she looked just like the ones in those music boxes little girls played with as children if deprived bastards made those music boxes. While she had on one of those flat hard skirts, the detective had seen in the dance school, and ballet shoes, she had on nothing else. Her body was making the ‘passé en relevé’ ballet move. The right leg was pointed barely reaching the floor, while her left was bent at the knee, toe towards the knee. Instead of her arms remaining stretched out to her sides, they stood tied above her head, and her cuffs were attached to a chain that was tied to the ceiling. Whatever was holding her chains rotated slowly making the woman, in turn, rotate in a three-sixty manner. Meanwhile, the short-pole in the center of the stage seemed to be the reason why the young woman was making those incoherent noises of pleasure- or was it pain? On the base of the stage, a sizeable digital stop-watch kept track of- he wasn’t sure what, but every so often it restarted, and with that, her noises got louder, she cried out and begged for a break that didn’t come. Instead, partygoers were trying out new tools on the ballerina. The walls stood filled with anything you could think of to give her more pleasure, and therefore more pain.

Nate had to fight the unbearable urge to save the young woman, to jump on that stage and get her off of it, to end her torture. Instead, all he could do was watch. The only silver lining to this room was that thanks to the dim lights and everyone's attention remaining on the stage, they were able to slip out a door in the back of the room. It leads to a dimly lit hallway. At the end of the short hall, they could see stairs. Nate looked at Cez for a moment, before starting to head towards the stairs. They needed evidence, real, damning evidence, the kind he could take to his boss to cause arrests. Of course, the fact that this cult might have members that are in high-level positions of power had crossed his mind. They had to tread carefully.

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Mar 14 2018, 08:07 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

This wasn’t what he expected. What he had expected was a cult, this was more like some kind of sex club. And how many people exactly were involved in this? Quite a few, he imagined, seeing how many people they had already come across. If people were there against their will, he and Nathan were going to have an incredibly hard time discerning them from the rest of the bunch. It wasn’t like they would be able to do anything for those people either...how could they? What they were there for was evidence, faces, names. Things that could tie those in charge to crimes. Not just sex acts, murder. Cezanne had done some digging on both Leonard and Bernard. Plenty of students and theatre actors had disappeared without a trace. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. Not after seeing this. Clara and Olga were there tonight as well, from what he had learned speaking with Clara, this wasn’t what she wanted. The journalist had to remind himself of all the facts he did know, as to validate his and Nathan's being there being there.

He felt a hand touch his own, pulling him from his thoughts as he turned to see Nathan. Senpai noticed me. So far his and Nathan’s cameras had gotten a great start to a porno. Again, Cez wondered what the other man could be thinking. Maybe he was feeling disgusted? Second Hand shame? Guilt? The white face staring back at him revealed nothing, but at the moment, it was a small relief to know that he wasn’t alone. Saying nothing, the journalist turned, not pulling his hand away, but not tightening the grip on it either. He knew why Nathan did it, he just didn’t care, only if it became a hindrance to his own mobility. It did.

As soon as they entered the next room, Cez felt the hand pull. Nathan had stopped walking, staring in shock at the spectacle on the stage. Cezanne watched for a moment himself, before turning to his partner once again. He was starting to worry now, worry that Nathan would do something stupid like be a hero, be a cop. The moment passed and both men left the room. Cezanne didn’t have to tell the detective, he already knew there wasn’t anything to be done. Not at this time.

They stood out in the hallway, Nathan turning his gaze to Cezanne. Perhaps he was going to ask him something, or suggest where they should go next, but the glint in the detective’s eyes shifted causing Cez to turn around, noticing the stairs his partner was looking at. Without a word, Nathan made his way towards them. Cez moved to follow but halted, spying two men entering the hallway and looking their way. They bowed their heads, reminding the journalist of his mask. Damn. He wanted to get a hold of a different one and fast. They stood out far too much for the journalist’s liking. The pair of men whispered to each other, disappearing into a room on the left side of the hall. About to turn and follow Nathan, Cezanne suddenly felt arms loop around both of his, as he was led into thought one of the doors on the right side of the hallway.

There was an audible 'click', as the door shut. Then the giggling began. It was obvious to tell, even by the weight of their once held grip, that the pair were females. They circled around each other, in front of him, unable to control their laughter. Neither of them made a move to touch him, perhaps they were shy. Their body language and constant laughter certainly suggested so. Or maybe it was all an act. Whatever it was, the journalist couldn’t help but smile under his own mask at the pair of white-volto-faced women, as they got closer and closer.

His eyes moved briefly from the girls, scanning the room. It looked like some type of lounge or smoking room. The area was tight, the furniture within its confines making it appear even smaller. A coffee table, a few couches, and a large, ornate fireplace. He glanced back at the women. Suddenly seizing the one on the right, gripping her arms tightly and feeling her tense. The other woman froze. Releasing her, he brought up a finger, placing it at the base of the mask and slowly began to lift it up and off her face. The mask fell to the ground, pushing her hood off as it made it's descent and revealing her long blonde hair. Big blue eyes stared up at him. She looked so young, too young. Underage came to mind, though she was probably of age, if just barely. He turned to her companion, repeating the same motion which revealed brown eyes to match dark brown hair. She looked even younger. Both girls began to giggle once again. Cez, watched both women look at one another, his thoughts on their masks laying on the floor. The blonde stepped forward, reaching her hands out and up to lift off the journalist’s own mask when the door opened, stopping the girl in mid motion.

Cez turned and looked at who had entered. It was the pair of men he’d seen earlier, or at least seemed likely that it was them. Everyone looked the same, except for the two girls who now had their masks off. The men stopped for a moment, until Cez bowed his head, taking a few steps back away from the women. The men saw that as a go-ahead, moving in and leading the girls to the couches. Cezanne’s gaze didn’t follow them. Instead he stared down at the masks on the ground, waiting until he began to hear the sounds of pleasure before he grabbed one because FUCK NATHAN! CEZ ONLY HELPS THOSE THAT HELP THEMSELVES! and made his way to the door, switching it out for the one he currently had on. Exiting the room, he tied his other mask to his belt loop, then straightened himself out and headed back to the stairs.

It looked as though Nathan hadn’t gone far from where he left him, he stood a short way up the steps, looking around.

“Did you find anything or...were you waiting for me?”

“What?” came the unfamiliar voice from behind the mask.

Grateful his raised-brow reaction was concealed by his mask, Cez didn’t waste time in playing off his mistake. “Did you find what you were looking for, or have you been waiting for me?” he repeated, changing his wording slightly and adding a coy tone.

The man tilted his head marginally. “I guess I’ve been waiting for you then.” He gave a chuckle and motioned for Cezanne to follow him up the stairs, saying, “Come on then.”

The journalist walked up a few steps and paused. It was nothing really, just his own body not wanting to go, his subconscious taking over. The stranger noticed it as well and gave a laugh. “Come on, it’s all right. You can come upstairs if you’re with me.” The man gave a beckoning motion once again before ascending, Cez following close behind. Soon enough he found himself making his way down the same balcony he had seen Clara and Olga going down. Was he going to the same room they were in? His thoughts shifted, as he wondered where Nathan had gone off and how he was fairing.

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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Mar 15 2018, 11:27 PM
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Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


At the landing he'd turned to his partner, only to find the space behind him was empty. A worried expression crossed his face, what if... No, best not to think that way. One thing Nathaniel knew for sure was that the journalist was quick on his feet. People like him shared the gift of gab, able to talk themselves out of anything. Still, the fact that he'd lost track of him, in a sea of robes and volto masks remained worrisome. Two men had exited a room on the left and turned to study him, well not him per say given the mask. Still one tilted his head, Nate bowed and headed up the stairs, as the pair moved further down the hall.

The upside to his mask was that no one indeed noticed him upstairs, to his relief there were more than just their two gold etched masked. Still, he had to be cautious; the detective was upstairs now and out onto the balcony that they'd seen earlier, except instead of heading for the room with the Birdman, he traveled in the opposite direction, to the other room. As he walked he observed the downstairs orgy, noticing something he hadn't picked up on before, there were a few masks that were different. They had an 'O' shape for a mouth instead of the sealed tight lips and red lipstick. As he looked around noticing that most of those guests were girls, a hand touched his shoulder.

He kept himself from jumping out of his skin and turning to the person behind him. Instead, he deliberately pushed himself off the rail and turned to see who it was. He hoped it was Cezanne; however, he didn't need to look down at the shoes to know it wasn't his partner. He was face to face with a woman. Her volto mask had that antique crack throughout it, a gold masquerade mask painted on top, framed by long black feathers and short spotted feathers where the mask ended, and the feathers began, blood red lips perfectly painted on, but her most striking feature was her eyes. Light grey piercing eyes stared at him, she held a gloved finger to her lips taking his hand as she led him into the room right in front of them.

Nathan had no choice but to follow the woman, he couldn't very well say, 'no thanks', or 'pass' this was what they were all here for after all. Still, He had to be careful, scanning the room as he entered, there was a large bed in the middle. Staring at them were four other robed figures. They held something shiny in their hands. The woman pulled him close her arms wrapping around him, and as she did she spun their bodies throwing him onto the bed, only he pulled her with him. Nathan and the Owlady wrestled on the bed the other four figures coming closer to the bed. He'd realized what was in their hands. Cuffs. The woman laughed like their struggle was foreplay. He managed to pin her down his hands holding her wrists above her head, his torso sat on her thighs. He looked at the figures unsure if they were women- he looked down at their feet, Women. He felt relieved, he looked around, barking out in a low voice, "Well! Don't just stand there." The women moved to cuff Owlady to the bed. He pulled her mask up above her head, he looked at her face having to recuperate quickly from the shock. Beneath him was Judge JUDY! Habersher.

The 'honorable' Judge was around seventy, works over in juvenile criminal court. She was known for being easy on perps, especially girls. She preferred giving them community work, putting them in a program to help them start their lives. He had to wonder if she was doing that for the cults benefit. He got up and picked up a soft scarf using it to cover her eyes, securing it tightly. After that he looked around, well, that would have to do. She was like a wiggly worm in a hot pan, begging him to do her, at the same time promising him he'd pay for this. That she'd make him hurt- in pleasure... She still thought this was a game. Good thing too, he put the gag he'd spotted a few minutes ago on her, and whispered to her, "You better be on this bed, when I get back." He stood up looking at the others, who were looking at the floor. "Masks off." He ordered, keeping his voice low still. They did as they were told, all of them looked too young, and all of then avoided his face. He tried to commit their faces to memory; he desperately wished he could take them with him. Save one single soul from this hell. Cezanne's voice rang in his head tho, proof, they needed proof.

He looked at the girls, "Have fun with her!" He hoped they understood what he meant. He took the arm of one of the girls, and now it was he who held his finger to his lips. He lead her out of another back door, down the stairs. Trying to think of what to ask so that he wouldn't be too suspicious. "Is this your first time here?" He whispered, and she shook her head. "How many times?" She shrugged, and he walked with her calmly down the hall. His mind trying to come up with a bull shit reason. "I've been told there are some forbidden rooms." He chuckled, "Take me to that area, and we'll have some fun." He said in the same low deep whisper. She hesitated, he pulled her mask down over her face, He hated himself for saying his next words. But it was for the greater good- or so he hoped. "Don't make me tell them you refuse to pleasure me." He felt so dirty for saying that, and even more so when she whimpered shaking her head at him.

"What's your name?" She hesitated, not saying anything. Guess names weren't allowed here. "I won't hurt you, just..." She reluctantly started to walk down the hall, and he followed.

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Apr 1 2018, 06:35 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

They entered the double doors to find a tight corridor. The narrow stretch had sharp turns that seemed out of place for such a cramped passage barely managing to contain two full grown men side by side. It gave cause for the journalist to wonder where the masked man from earlier had gone along with Clara and Olga. With any luck, he’d soon find out.

The man ahead of him said nothing, only wordlessly guided Cezanne to some undisclosed destination. The pair had passed a couple doors, nothing but silence on the other side of each one. After a few moments that seemed to span on for an eternity, they came upon a door. The man stopped, turning slightly to look at Cezanne, before placing his hand on the long narrow handle of the door and pressing it down. Already, it was obvious to tell that the room was fairly dark, not necessarily a great sign. The journalist felt his disappoint beginning to surge. The man placed a hand on the back of Cez’s shoulder, ushering him inside the room.

It was a small office of sorts, a few bookshelves on either side of a wooden desk that was up against the wall on their immediate right. It was an odd sort of set up, as more bookshelves were used to partition the already limited area, making it feel even smaller. Other than that, the only further noticeable attributes were the taxidermied birds mounted to the walls. The artist’s discouragement grew, as he came to realize that the room was empty, save for the two of them now.

The journalist’s setback briefly prompted him to think about Nathan, wondering if the man had, had better luck in finding any valuable information. But Cezanne soon found his thoughts abruptly interrupted, as the stranger all but shoved him up against one of the bookshelves. The act solicited a startled sound he was less than thrilled to utter again. Admittedly, he had been caught off guard, something made painfully obvious now. It shouldn’t really have been shocking, in fact, the more surprising fact was that he hadn’t bothered thinking about what he’d do in a situation like the one he was now finding himself in. The stranger stared at him in utter silence, and for a split second, Cezanne inwardly panicked, half wondering if the man was onto him. He could feel the fabric of his robe pulling, as the masked person yanked him away from the shelf, now shoving him onto the desk. It was awkward, the chair in front wobbled, nearly tipping over. Cez’s mind grasped for any idea, but all he could see were all the orbed, lidless eyes of the stuffed fowls above, their outstretched wings and unyielding gaze bearing down on him.

Frenzied hands grabbed at the cloak, but just as soon as they had reached, they pulled away.

”What is this?” the man asked angrily, as he took a few steps back, looking at Cezanne’s clothing and then the extra mask in his possession. An elongated silence followed. The journalist said nothing in response. What could he say? He only moved himself off the desk, back on his feet.

“What are you up to, huh?”

Cezanne could see the whites of the man’s eyes made barely visible by the tiny dim lamp on the desk that was now leaning over, just about ready to tip the rest of the way.

He couldn’t think of anything fast enough, not before the man advanced on him. In a moment of panic, Cezanne lunged forward, pushing the man on his hips, knocking his balance off, as he stumbled backwards and fell on the ground. A short window of time had been opened, and the journalist used it to his full advantage, exiting the room and propping a nearby chair under the handle. There was a brief span of silence on the other side, then the knob tried to turn down, then the banging began. The muffled voice in the room started shouting protests and curses.

This had been a terrible idea. Cezanne wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. Not without Nathan. But even so, he needed to get as far away from this area as he could before the others were alerted. He made his way back down the corridor he’d just come from, heading back to the stairs to the first floor. Down below there were more people, it would be easy to get lost in the crowd. He’d almost reached the landing when he heard the faint sound of muted voices from behind another door. One of the voices caught his attention. It was distinct and familiar, with a nasally sort of drawl to it. It must have been Bernard. Cezanne looked back, listening out for anyone who might be approaching. There was nothing he could make out, meaning he’d been afforded a few moments. Stepping closer to the door, he tried to make out the conversation on the other side.

“--And Leonard--were close,” came a barely audible voice.

”Leonard was--but it had to be done--believe he’d do--Violet--shame he didn’t--nothing can be done now.”

The unfamiliar voice got louder, meaning the person must have moved closer to the door. “I wanted to ask you your opinion--”

Footsteps. But enough to know it wasn’t just one person approaching. Cezanne looked back to see if they had seen him. No one in sight yet. He took one last fleeting glance at the door before heading to the landing and down the stairs. Just to the left of the bottom of the steps stood a man, his arm resting against the wall as he leaned over a woman who busied herself with twirling her hair with one hand, while her other hand made slow jerking motions under the man’s robe. The journalist could have cared less what they were doing, although ti was obvious. A good enough excuse as any, he made his way over to the pair, pretending to watch while two more men with gold etched masks came partially down the stairs, stopping short of the last few steps.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He said he had clothes on. So, no one else up or down until we figure this out and are done searching everyone up here. No one. Regardless of their mask.”

“Regardless of their mask? What if it’s--”

“You know what I mean!”

“Jesus. Calm down, it was a joke. Damn. How do you know he didn’t already go downstairs.”

“We don’t. Just stand guard, okay? You think you can do that?...Think you can manage that? Also, they already shut the elevator down too.”

“Eck. The elevator? That rickety thing? Wasn’t even aware that hunk of junk was operational. That thing deserves to always be shutdown.”

“Listen--”

”Yeah, yeah. I know.” the man gave a short laugh, then added, “Wonder who fucked up this time…”

“I don’t know. I’m just glad it wasn’t us.”

The second man parted ways with the first man, who remained on the stairs, leaning against the wall. It had been made clear by their conversation that they weren’t going to be letting anyone upstairs or back downstairs until they had searched everyone on the second floor. Cezanne hoped Nathan wasn’t up there anymore. At this point, it was going to be nearly impossible to find the detective in all these masks and cloaks. Why hadn’t they bothered thinking of some kind of sign or signal they could have used if they got separated? Too late now. All their glaring mistakes were making themselves known. All his mistakes. He should have thought this through more carefully, but there hadn’t been enough time.

Cezanne pushed his current thoughts away, replacing them with something more useful. The stairs were where they had gotten separated. If there was anywhere Nathan would backtrack to, it would be there…..right?

FEV
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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 02:29 AM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


Nathan reached out and took her hand in his, just in case anyone caught them, he would play it off like they were looking for a private room. For the time being this girl was as good as a get out of jail free card. They kept turning corners; this place was a labyrinth, and more and more he worried about his partner, where he'd gotten to, and how would he find him.

First thing was first tho, they needed evidence, so far all this was, was a sex party, which while disgusting, it wasn't illegal. They passed a couple of robed figures with gold etched masks who nodded at him, and he nodded back. Finally, he and his companion came to a long hall with three doors towards the end. The woman grew more hesitant, but there was no turning back now, Nate moved them along, trying the door to the left first, it was just an empty sitting room. He walked in with her, closing the door after them. He looked around; there was nothing here. Had she lied to him?

He was starting to grow suspicious, of her, he turned to her, and before he had a chance to say anything, she was down on her knees trying to reach into his robe. Nate was quick to take one hand, then the other, now she was trying to use her mouth, Jesus, she was relentless. He let go of one hand to push her head away, and the wrestling ensued which lead to her figuring out, he had clothes on. She stared up at him shocked, she stood shaking her head and started moving back towards the wall she tripped and reached out to grab onto the curtain there, revealing a door.

FUCK FUCK FUCK! He had to think and quickly, he cut her off blocking the exit door, "Everything is fine, okay? Just--" Just what?! "--just sit there quietly and everything will be fine." He went over to the door on the wall, it had no handle he tried to use his fingernails to pry it open to no avail when the damn room opened from the inside, Nate moved back. A large pissed off man came out, Nate was busy looking behind him at the wall of screens riding bodies were all he could see. These weren't cameras for security, probably for blackmail.

"What the!?! This room is private; you two shouldn't be here. You know the rules."

Maybe Effie would be able to see if these video feeds were being transmitted digitally or sent to a server, maybe she could get in? His attention came crashing back to the here, and now, he started to apologize, "We got lost, and were just looking for a private room is all." He was sweating bullets now, it was time to go, where the fuck was Cezanne?!

Before Nate could grab the girl and leave, the man clutched the woman's arm, "You should know better! You will be punished severely for this." The man was holding the girl by the arm and face tightly, as he turned to him, "Come on, I'll let you do it, it's fun making them squeal like a little pig." This was a fucking mess, he nodded at the man, "Thank you." Trying to go along with it, to buy time while he figured out how to get them out of it, he spotted the fire poker by the fireplace. Before he could spring his plan into action, the girl started screaming, singing like a fucking canary. "He made me bring him here, he's- he's not one of us! He's wearing clothes!! He did it, please please, I didn't take him where he wanted to go, I brought him to you. She was ugly sobbing and half muttering.

It all happened so quickly after that, Nate tried to reach the door to no avail, the man had thrown the girl against the wall, and came for him. They struggled, Nate managed to get a couple blows in, but the guy was stacked. He tried to grab him in a sleeper hold, but he just jumped up and fell on top of him, Nate groaned feeling dazed.

Before he could get his bearings, the man threw an elbow at his jaw and it was lights out.

The man turned to the woman who was still whimpering on the floor. "Shut the fuck up already! Get up, go clean up and rejoin your room." He went into the tiny video room and came back shoving a mask at her, "for God's sake, put that back on. She went to walk away, but he stopped her, grabbing her chin with one hand, squeezing her cheeks together. "You saw nothing, understand? You don't want to end up like Violet, right?" She was quick to nod and practically ran out of the room. Now the man turned his attention to the party crasher, who was he? He checked his pockets but he had nothing on him. He went to call the powers that be, asking what to do with him?

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Apr 4 2018, 07:07 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

They had tied him to a chair, while they whispered about how most everyone higher up in the ranks had left by now. Phone calls were being made, but it was, in a word…

“A real shit-show,” a feminine voice could be heard, as a feathered masked figure entered the room followed by two other gold-etched masked men. The female turned to one of the more masculine figures who had yet to say anything. “And you said he had what on him now?”

“This”, the other man, who hadn’t been addressed spoke up, presenting the woman with Nathan’s broken spycam.

”Well, fuck. Hopefully he didn’t get too much.” She paused briefly, considering the situation. “And they are clearing the garden now, right?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “And that’s what he said to do?”

The two men nodded their heads.

The woman gave another elongated sigh. “All right…” she trailed off, looking at the man in the seat. “Guess that makes sense…” She abruptly put her hands on her hips. “Well, where the hell is he?”

“I’m here. I’m here,” a third man said, entering the room.

“About time,” the woman huffed. “Is this him or what?”

“Well…” the man said, taking a few steps closer and pushing Nathan’s robe open. “I didn’t see his face...but I mean…” He observed Nathan’s clothing, scrutinizing him up and down.

“Ugh, god. Why was he upstairs in the first place? Huh? You know better.”

“Shut up!” the man spat back. “Yeah, sure. That’s him….but there’s something else. Come on,” he said, ushering everyone into the side room with the cameras and shut the door. A few minutes later, the pair came out, still talking, as they made their way out of the room.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” the woman began, “I’m not dealing with this anymore. I don’t know shit. There was a party crasher, that is all I know. Didn’t see him come, didn’t see him go.” The door shut, leaving Nathan in silence, just the sound of the music now somewhat muffled.


Minutes that seemed like an eternity, and still no Nathan. Cezanne was beginning to worry. What if Nathan had still been on the second floor? The man on the stairs hadn’t moved. He wasn’t going to move anytime soon, it seemed. The couple he was standing by were just about done, judging by the man’s breathing.

“Hey. Come one,” a man with gold on his mask motioned to the one on the stairs. The one on the stairs turned suddenly to the other. “What? Come on, stop messing around.”

“No, I’m serious. Come on. They got him. We need help.”

“That was fast. Okay,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and following after the other man.

Fuck! They had gotten Nathan. They had to have. But maybe now there was a chance he could “help” with leading the detective out of there. He wasn’t sure what they’d do with him but the worst came to mind. They wouldn’t do that though...would they? He didn’t want to wait around to find out. The journalist went to move for the stairs, when he felt a hand grab his arm. He turned sharply to see the woman looking at him. There was a few seconds of silence, before Cezanne slapped her hand away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey,” the man with her demanded.

“Hey, what?” Cez asked impatiently. “You fuck off too.”

The man placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder, leading her away. “Goddamn, FREAK,” he muttered, as they walked off.

”Yeah, I’m the freak”, he thought sarcastically to himself, as he watched the pair disappear around a corner. After a few moments, he changed out masks and headed back upstairs. No one seemed to be around, so he headed back the way he had come before, hoping Nathan was around there. Pushing past the double doors above the ballroom, Cezanne saw two figures talking just a few doors ahead, short of the sharp turn, not quite as far as he’d gone before. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they motioned to the door, then moved off further down the hall and turned the corner. Was Nathan in that room? If he was, there wasn’t much time. Not wanting to run, but still hurrying, Cez quickened his pace, heading over to the room. As he approached he turned back, swearing he heard the sound of a door creaking. There was nothing. Not able to afford wasting time, Cez cracked the door open and peered inside.

He opened the door wider, slipping inside don’t be a perv!!!, and closing it softly behind him. Putting his finger up to his mask’s lips, he moved over to Nathan, kneeling down to give him a bj. now I’m a perv to start untying him. He hadn’t even managed to untie one foot loose, haha, FOOTLOOSE! when a voice spoke up behind him.

“There you are. Is that your little friend there?”

Cezanne spun around in time to see a masked man entering the room, and now another two were coming out from some side room he hadn’t had time to notice. No one made any sudden moves, though the one that spoke leaned out the door for a second. “Come here. Yes. Come here and see.” A few seconds later and a fourth man entered the room, though he didn’t hesitate in going right up to the journalist and opening his robe. “Yeah, that’s him.”

A hand reached out from the side, snatching the camera off the journalist’s cloak. “I’ll take that,” the man’s voice cooed, as he visibly snapped the electronic device in half.

“So, that better be it then,” the feather-masked woman said, as he peeked in through the doorway. “Anyways, use the elevator and take them out the backway. Oh--and hurry back. Don’t take forever. Gotta get this place cleared out.” She eyed those she spoke to, then her eyes fell on Cezanne, then they lingered on Nathan, his face being the only one exposed. The man who identified Cezanne gave a callous laugh. “Hope it was worth it,” he said, disappearing out of the room alongside the masked woman.

“All right,” one man said, as he untied Nathan. “Get up. Let’s go.”


Cezanne hadn’t said anything since being caught. He was worried about what would happen, as he should be. The elevator ride didn’t seem nearly long enough. They’d each gone down separately. When it was his turn to follow after Nathan, the man standing with him laughed. “What’s your name? ...How’d you find out about this place?” Cezanne remained silent. “Oh, not gonna say, are you? That’s okay. That’s...okay.” The man nodded to himself , then went on to ask, “No last words for your little buddy either, huh?” he gave a short laugh, as the elevator came to a stop. Opening the door, the man pushed the journalist to continue moving.

Outside, the cool breeze was a welcoming feel, though it did little quell the fear creeping up within the journalist. Nothing was said, as they were led along the garden path until they were a decent distance from the mansion, a pool of sorts coming into view.

“Start it up,” one man said to another.

It looked like a drained pool with a fountain in the center of it. Cezanne couldn’t understand what they were going to do. He was shaken from his thoughts, when a hand ripped the mask off his face. The journalist’s eyes instinctively moved to Nathan. Then the man standing beside the detective turned, shoving the man down into the pool. Cezanne’s eyes widened, as he moved to see if Nathan was all right. A hand stopped him.

“No, no. Not you.” the man laughed again, “You didn’t want to talk before, but you will. Oh, you’ll talk….you’ll talk. Come on,” he instructed, grabbing the journalists arm in a gruff manner. The masked man stopped, turning back to the one who had started up the water feature. “You gonna wait here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Then we are going with him.”

“Okay.”

The two masked men walked away from the third, Cezanne reluctantly being forced along with them.

FEV
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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Apr 5 2018, 01:21 AM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


The edges started to gain color again, blurs became shapes, as he regained consciousness, eyeballs slowly darted around taking in his surroundings as it all came crashing back, he was captured. Trying to ignore that constant ringing in his ear, Nate worked to listen past it, to the words being exchanged. The few bits that were grasped led him to sigh inside in relief. Cezanne was safe, and they thought he was the journalist. Nathan could only hope his partner was on his way to find them help.

Alone at last! He couldn't hear what was said in the other room, and couldn't begin to guess why they had left him alone to start with, but he wasn't sticking around to find out. The struggle to try to loosen or break his restraints began, because one thing was for sure, he hadn't survived the war, to be killed by a bunch of perverted old men-- and women. It was futile, whoever had done these knots had training, no doubt for BDSM, he shook that thought away, as a figure entered the room. Familiar brown boots and a finger to his lips had Nate visibly relaxing, if only for a split second. He whispered, "Just go. Go get help--" it didn't matter now because they were surrounded.

He had come alone, without back-up, and told no one about this. It was in this moment as he marched towards what he assumed was his death that the many errors of their plan were made painfully obvious. He had to find a way to get them out of this, but as they walked further away from the property, it all seemed hopeless. Coming to this party had been the worst idea ever he'd ever agreed to, well no, taking this on, just them two, alone, was the worst idea ever. He thought about overpowering the man leading him, but Cez who was now close behind them had two others with him. Nathan wasn't sure the journalist could take anyone on, plus Nate had no weapons. Right now their best bet was to wait; the water feature came into view. It was hard to tell what that large cement disk with a hole in the middle was until his captor said to turn it on. It looked as if a sink was draining, what kind of water feature was this? The detective started trying to fight it; he was not about to go into that hole. Try as he might, the inevitable happened, and into the dark abyss, he went.

Once inside that form, he couldn't hear anything, he had no idea what was going on with Cezanne. He expected his partner to be next, but his body never came. TeeHee Perhaps it was a good thing? Probably not. Being in this hole brought back some memories he'd rather stay buried, however, he couldn't let them paralyze him. Something had to be done. The robe came off, it was easier to tread water without that weighing him down. He felt around the walls, but they were no help, all wet and baby smooth. Get your mind out of the gutter. The pool seemed to pull at his body, wanting to suck him down, that's when an idea came to mind. Sucking in Cez a breath, he took the robe and pushed himself down to the bottom of the fountain. Which actually felt more like a well, as far as size went at least. He tried to get the fabric down as smooth as possible to the bottom of the hole. The motor sucked it in creating a kind of seal, the stream slowed down, making a choking noise before the stream stopped entirely. He was back at the surface, treading water still, but at least now he could hear, of course without the steady stream he was an easier target.

It had been silent for a good while, he wondered where they'd gotten to, was he alone? He couldn't scream on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere. It was at this exact moment that he remembered and instantly felt dread because his arm was now chip-less. Landon had taken it out a few weeks ago, it had a malfunction, and it had to come out. No one would find him, that was a daunting realization. He'd be here for days, who knows what fresh hell Cezanne was enduring. They'd one day maybe find his body, all bloated and unrecognizable from being in the water for all that time. He kept hearing a noise, he didn't realize that noise was his teeth chattering, from the cold water. He started moving faster, trying to keep his body temperature up.

A figure appeared at the top of the hole, he couldn't see a face, but he immediately pushed himself down into the water, if they were going to shoot him he would not make it easy. When he came back up for air, he found the end of a rope hanging there. He looked back up the figure was gone. Was this a trap? He took the rope carefully and tugged at it, pulling on it gently at first then hard. It seemed to hold, so he started climbing, it took all the strength he could muster to haul his ass up that cord. He got one leg up first then an arm then he just rolled onto the concrete breathing hard. The figure was back, but before Nate could move back or do anything. She covered his mouth tightly holding up a finger to her lips.

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 02:15 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Saturday, June 24, 2017

Song

Outfit

Nathan was going to drown. Or at least come close to it until they felt he was ready to start explaining what they were doing there. And then? It wasn’t as though they were just going to let the pair waltz out of there now. Simply slap them on the wrist and say, “Don’t do that again.” No. This was going to be it for them.

Cezanne wondered what was waiting for him up ahead. It didn’t take long to find out, as he halted his steps immediately upon what he saw. They weren’t really going to put him in there were they? They couldn’t. Oh, but after thinking back on Nathan, yes, yes they could.

“Come on,” one of the men urged calmly, gently pulling at the journalist’s arm now, as if it would help him move along to his inevitable death. The second man moved ahead, probably to open the door on the bronze bull ahead of them. This wasn’t happening. “Come on,” the man instructed again, this time with slight more emphasis in his tone. It wasn’t going to happen. Cezanne jerked back, ready to bolt, but the man held his grip. No point in screaming on an island where no one in the vicinity cared or could hear your cries for aid, but at the very least, the journalist began to struggle, making it hard for the masked man to maintain his hold.

“He’s--go get him, so we can--shove this little fucker in,” The man holding him commanded. The second guy took off running back in the direction they had come from.


“Hey--” the man huffed, as he reached the water feature.

“Yeah? What, what’s wrong?” the nameless man who had been addressed asked, turning away from the fountain to look at the guy approaching him.

“He’s struggling. Need your help getting him in there. Come on.”

The other guy gave a short laugh. “It’s awkward, huh?”

“Yeah, it is,” the man agreed, giving his own breathy laugh.

The one by the fountain turned his attention back to the well briefly. “Sure gets the point across, doesn’t it? Maybe we don’t even need to put him in there, maybe he’ll just start talking.”

“I doubt it. Besides, I already brought the wood over. This is happening. And it would be happening a lot quicker if you get over there and help out.”

“All right. Fine,” The man reluctantly conceded. “Guess he won’t drown that quickly.” The pair moved off back to the bull statue.

A few second went by before a rope was lowered down into the well. The woman waited until the man had climbed out of the well, before placing a finger over his mouth to silence him. She paused, listening for any noises that might mean someone was coming back, but she didn’t hear anything.

The tension in her shoulders eased up somewhat, as she pulled her feathered mask off of her face. “We need to get out of here…” she said, more to herself then to the detective, as she scanned the area once more. Bringing her attention back to the man before her, she eyed him up and down. “So, what are you, some kind of reporter or something? Names Jessica. Jessica Fontaine, and Buddy, have I got a story for you. But I want some type of immunity, you hear me? I need assurance, okay? I mean, I’m helping you. I’m redeeming myself here. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. It’s crazy. Fucked.” She stopped her words again. “Anyways--" Getting up on her feet, the woman helped pull Nathan to his. “We gotta go. Like now. Like we should have been gone.” She moved passed him and then looked back. “Well?! We don’t have a lot of time. What? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going and getting your friend...Forget it, the guy is probably dead by now. If we don’t go, we’ll be the same.” Taking a step towards Nathan, she furrowed her brows, stating pointedly, “Listen. I’m going. You can either follow me, or die trying to rescue your dead friend. But me, I’m leaving. Now. If you make it through this, you know my name. I just pray to god you find me before...” The woman cut herself off, then turned and disappeared into the foliage.


Things were really starting to heat up. Cezanne had already taken the robe off and put it under him, but now he felt it was doing little to keep the constant, all consuming heat away. He couldn’t hear anything outside the brazen bull statue, just the sound of his own breathing reverberating off the bronze walls. He was as good as dead. There was a moment when he wondered how long it would take for him to begin begging for his life, would that point ever come? They were going to kill him regardless...He’d once read a piece on brazen bulls, an excerpt stating that according to legends, the victims scorched bones shone like jewels and were made into bracelets. Nice thing to consider, wondering if your bones were going to be made into bracelets for a bunch of sick fucks to wear.

“Ah, fuck,” Cezanne cursed, as his hand accidentally touched the hot metal. He bit the back of his hand, willing himself not to breakdown and start crying. Death wasn’t something had foreseen when he decided to take this venture on. But then, what had he thought, he now wondered. He didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did he? silly rabbit, tricks are for kids. Should have planned better. Shouldn’t have underestimated the situation. Shouldn’t have overestimated himself. Pride and ego, the bane of his existence. It was getting hard to breathe, the small space was feeling tighter and tighter with each passing second. Seconds that felt like minutes. Minutes that felt like hours.

They’d been laughing outside, passing time with telling jokes. Adding more fuel to the flames and waiting for the impending screams to erupt from within the bronzed animal’s dwellings.

“What about the other guy?”

“Well...better hope he’s a good swimmer.”

The third man, who was sitting, looked at the man who was supposed to be watching Nathan. “You better get back.”

“Aww, man, I really wanted to hear the noises from this thing. I’ve never seen it actually done. Never actually heard the screams. Does it really do that, turn the screams into bull sounds?”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

The man gave an exasperated sigh, as he turned to head back to his watch. He ceased his steps suddenly, looking in the direction of the hotel. “Oh, what the fuck?!” he exclaimed, jarring the other men to attention. “The fucking hotel’s on fire!”

There was smoke rising from the building, curling upwards into the night sky. The other two men jumped to their feet and the three of them ran off, heading for the mansion.

And Cez burnt up. And his bones shone bright like a diamond in the sky. That's their "couple song". The End.

FEV
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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 10:41 PM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


Burning is the only way to describe how his lungs felt while he laid panting, trying to catch his breath. Nate made no complaint when his savior did the universal sign for staying quiet. Once the mask had come off, he breathed a sigh of relief, still unsure he could trust her. What if it was a trap? He had no other option but to trust her. Nate sat up nodding, yes that was one thing he could agree to easily. It was time to go, but not without his lover Cezanne. His attention came back to the woman when she started asking all the questions. He had no intention of telling her what he was until she kept talking, introducing herself, Jessica Fontaine, and she wanted to sing like a canary?

Nathan nodded without hesitation, "Sure. Done. As long as you can prove it." She was the silver lining in this, with her, they might just be able to open and close the case. Here she was offering him a neatly wrapped gift; he paused staring at her, he had so many questions. Exactly who was she? How had she gotten involved? How involved was she in all of this? How-- She pointed out they had to go, and he came back to the situation at hand. They had no time to chit chat they needed to get Cezanne and get the fuck off of this island.

He took her help as he stood, looking around, of course getting his partner was the only thing in his mind when she turned back and asked he was quick to nod. "I'm not leaving without him." He whispered hissed, "No. Wait." He said reaching out for her arm, "We need to stick together, okay? We'll go get him, and then we can go." He paused as she kept walking towards the foliage, "Wait. Hold on, a minute. Before what?" But she was gone lost in the shadows of all the trees, he hesitated for a split second. Wanting to go after, but he'd never be the type to leave a man behind.

The detective started making his way back up avoiding the path, listening for any movement or voices, he had no idea where they could've taken him, something similar no doubt. He could hear them before he could see them. Walking towards the voices, he paused a few trees back, listening in on their conversation. Screams into bull sounds? He moved over trying to get a different angle that's when he saw it, the metal bull, glowing brightly by the fire beneath it. He looked around trying to find a branch thick enough; he'd try and lure them one by one. All he had going for him was the element of surprise and branch steak-- to the neck. Before he could spring this plan into action one of them was moving back to the water feature. He knew if he reached it, he'd come running back, Nate would only have to deal with two, but with less time. God damn it.

Fortuned favored the recklessly brave, because one of them announced the hotel was on fire, and they all ran off. He wasted no god damn time. Part of him considered water, but he stopped himself. Water might put out the fire, but the steam would boil him alive. Dirt! Dirt was their best bet. He found some sort of bowl near the bull. He took it and improvised. Trowing as much dirt as he could on the side the door was on, just enough to quell some of the fire. His shirt came off next using it to pull the door open. Steam came out of it as he did, Jesus Christ, was he too late? "HEY!! HEY!!" He wanted to call out his name, but was afraid to, just in case. "Come on! Can you climb out?" He laid his shirt over the lip of the opening. Probably wasn't a great help, but it was something. He winced as the hot metal touched his arms, helping Cezanne out of that fucking contraption. "Come on, Can you walk? I'm sorry, but we've got to move, gotta find a way off this island before they come back for us." He could smell it now, the ashes of the fire, as they floated down around them, he turned seeing the tell tell orange glow of a fire, among the trees.

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 03:30 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Sunday, June 25, 2017

Song

Outfit

It was unbearably hot. That was putting it mildly. It was getting hard to think, was what was happening. Cezanne considered yelling for them to let him out, if only for the small possibility that they might kill him faster. Seemed like a better alternative to roasting alive in the metal inferno. He never did get the chance though, as a sudden gust of cool air came rushing into the statue. There was an instant when Cezanne thought that they might be ready to question him, until he heard a familiar voice shout out. It was Nathan. With the help of the detective, the journalist was able to scramble out of the metal device. What a hero. He could have cared less if he received any burns along the way out, the air outside feeling like an instant relief.

He’d been trying to catch his breath, when he heard Nathan say they had to move. That the men might come back. That was right, where had they gone? He surmised the detective would fill him in once they were a safe distance from this hellhole. Cezanne only nodded, slowly getting to his feet. Despite feeling a bit dizzy, he was more than willing to get moving.

At first he thought the smell was coming from the burning wood, but when he looked through the trees, the journalist noticed the flames coming from the hotel. There was no way Nathan had time for that. That explained where the masked men had gone. He cast a glance at the detective, as they hurried through the brush, heading as far away from the conflagration reaching up above the treetops into the night sky.


Another drop fell from the faucet and into the porcelain sink, as Cezanne stared into the mirror. It was now early Sunday. By the time they had managed to make their way back to the hotel, both men were exhausted and eager to shower off together lol the events from the night before. But now the journalist found himself lingering there, not wanting to face the facts. They’d gone to the hotel, and while they had discovered that there was a cult, that the cult housed many more people than first presumed, they had little to nothing to go off of. To top it off, they had no evidence regarding the events that had taken place. All that, risking their lives, nearly being killed, for nothing. Nathan was going to say something, there was no conceivable way that the man wouldn’t tell the journalist all the mistakes that had been made, all the careless calculations.

Not able to hide away in the bathroom forever, Cezanne finally changed and opened the door. He looked over at Nathan, leaning against the doorframe. Better to just get it over with. The sooner it was over, the sooner they could move past this and onto the next lead. Yes, despite finding nothing last night, Cezanne still had another idea and lead he was holding onto.

“I didn’t know about the cult, Nathan,” came his half-lie. “I just thought it was some elaborate costume party. I had no idea it was going to be like that….” He paused, his eyes moving to the window where the sky was barely beginning to lighten. “I know we didn’t get any evidence...other than what we saw…” The journalist hesitated, considering his words carefully. His meatball eyes moving back to the detective. “But now we have a better idea of what’s going on, so the next time we will be better prepared. We can still do this.” Cezanne stopped there, waiting to see what the other man would say, what his reaction would be.

FEV
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Nathaniel Halsted
 Posted: Apr 12 2018, 02:26 AM
Quote
Nathaniel Halsted
@MarcyPan

@Hotrod: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten


Back at the hotel Nathan had dared to suggest they go to the hospital get the journalist checked out. Of course, that had been shot down immediately, and the detective was too exhausted to fight him on that decision. Instead, everything was left for the next day, taking tonight to recuperate. Nate got the bed closest to the window, he had wanted to sleep, but his adrenaline fuelled night had his insomnia coming around. He laid there staring at the ceiling for a while. Nathan looked over at his sleeping beauty partner, who was sound asleep. He opened the window just enough to be able to look out, sitting on a chair, watching people coming and going, looking for anything suspicious.


He'd managed some shut eye for a couple of hours, then he jerked awake, it was seven in the morning, he got his clothes and moved the bathroom washing up, waiting for Cezanne to awake. When Cez had finally risen like Jesus Christ, he'd walked to the bathroom and had been in there for far too long. Nate's anger only grew as he waited for him to come back out.

He'd been tightening his shoelaces as Cezanne rejoined him, tightening them up with more and more force. Letting him speak, as he finished tying them up. Finally, he stood up glaring up at him. "Don't give me that shit. You said cult before we got in line to go to that party. Don't backpedal now." He sighed, "Yeah, okay, that part I'll give you, I'm sure you couldn't anticipate how bad it was. But god damn it Cez!" He exclaimed getting pissed off again, "This is why my people work with partners, this is why there is back-up, why you tell someone for christ sake!"

Then he let out a long soft sigh. "Maybe if we had done this with my team, we'd have that footage from our cameras--" He stood up again getting in Cezanne's face. "I mean we almost fucking died, you realize you would've cooked to death in that fucking contraption! We had no guns, no help, nothing!" He did a lot of the head bobbing thing as he spoke those words.

"Better prepared?! We can still do this?! Are you fucking kidding me?! No! No more of this 'your way' bull shit thing, no fucking way! I am not dying at the hands of some fucking old perverts because you couldn't take the help. I've got a lead, and it's now going to be my way, okay? We tried it your way and nearly died." He was still standing far too close to the journalist. "Look, I won't tell my boss okay? Just a few people I trust, a couple of detectives, and the head of the tech department. I got a feeling she could've had our cameras feed sent to a secure server."

"."

by FEV
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Cezanne Beauvais
 Posted: Apr 13 2018, 02:56 PM
Quote
Cezanne Beauvais
@Lashes

@Dominique Alarie: N/A


Date: Sunday, June 25, 2017

Song

Outfit

As expected, Nathan was less than thrilled by what Cezanne had said. The man was visibly upset, quick to throw back the journalist’s words in his face. Even still, Cezanne tried to remain calm. “Well, there were masks and cloaks, so...I don’t know. I just assumed that’s what it meant. Not exactly detective work on my part,” he retorted sarcastically.

Nathan mentioned telling “someone”, the journalist felt his jaw tighten. Technically he did tell someone...he told Nathan. They were partners, they worked together. No one else needed to know. Things would just get messy and more complicated the more people found out about this. But Cezanne kept even those thoughts to himself for the moment.

Perhaps it was the journalist’s lack of a response, or that Nathan wasn’t anywhere close to being finished going over last night’s incident, but the detective abruptly rose from the bed, now coming within inches of the journalist. He stood close, as he reminded him how they had nearly perished in their attempt to get a grasp on how big this cult was. Cezanne’s eyes caught a fish! Nathan’s intense glare. He’d never realized it, but now he could see that the other man’s eyes were green, though it could have been that he didn’t care to pay attention to that detail regarding his “partner”. It was made painfully obvious now, as was the fact the they had been under prepared. Overwhelmingly so.

Nathan wanted to take the reigns, and there was no way Cezanne was going to let that happen. No way in hell. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold the other man’s stare, the more frustrated and upset the journalist became. When his partner mentioned telling others, the list only seemed to grow. A couple detectives, some tech person? The thought that Nathan was seriously considering it, who he’d tell, how it was going to happen, that was it.

Cezanne leaned forward, getting even closer to Nathan smoooooch. “No. You won’t tell anyone,” the journalist hissed, still trying to salvage what little he could of his own composure. “Because if you do, you can forget having me as your partner. what a loss. You’ll be on your own. And don’t give me that bullshit about me being on my own. I’m not afraid of that.” He gave the detective a vicious sneer, before adding, “But you? You need me. You don’t know SHIT about the art community or who anyone is. I’m on the inside. I know who is who. I know where to fucking look. And I have an actual lead that I can follow up on, with or without you. Me. I’m what’s hip. I’m what’s happening. I’m blowing up right now. Cezanne paused, going so far as to give a laugh. “You wouldn’t even know where to start. And by the time you do follow up on that supposed “lead” of your’s, you’re going to alert so many people to what you’re doing, the cult will go into hiding. You’re just going to fuck it all up.” Cezanne, straightened up, offering Nathan a feigned friendly smile. “But by all means, Detective, do it your way. The choice is your’s afterall.”

FEV
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