#plotted starter

The first time it happens, Shane doesn’t even fully process it.

Toronto’s number forty-six flashes him an obnoxious little smirk as they line up for the face-off, and Shane tries to ignore it. It should be easy enough. He’s been chirped at by worse. He’s spent years across from the league’s most relentless instigator and never once let it throw him off his game.

"Hey Hollander...."

The rest is almost swallowed by the noise of the arena, by skates cutting over ice and the referee getting into position. Shane doesn’t hear it properly - not every word, anyway - but he sees the man’s mouth moving, sees the shape of it, the cruel curl of his lips as the meaning lands anyway.

He knows what he said. For half a second, Shane just stares. ...bet you look pretty on your knees

His heart jumps so hard it feels like it lodges in his throat. By the time the puck drops, he is a fraction too late, a fraction too distracted, and that is all it takes. The face-off is lost clean. It doesn’t lead to a goal. Shane chases the play down immediately, recovers as quickly as he can, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone saw it.

"Shame you’re not on my team, Hollander. Starting to think everyone else is getting a turn." It's tossed out almost casually as they pass each other, no more than a low comment under the noise of the game, but Shane hears it anyway.

They meet again at center ice a moment later, skidding to a sharp stop across from each other, and the man crowds straight into Shane's space. Bigger, heavier, looming right there in front of him with that same ugly satisfaction twisting his mouth. Shane's jaw locks and his eyes turn away as their line mates gather around him.

"What about Rozanov?" 46's eyes find Ilya as he stops next to Shane before he continues: "He get first dibs, or you taking requests? Bet I could do you better."

Plotted starter for @fablesuntold

The ground still held the memories of the rainfall from the night before, the scent still remained heavy inside the air. The night was painted in perfect water colors for Ada on this night, the way the stars shone above was truly a remarkable sight for a woman who had become so uncertain of herself. A sickening contrast to the memories the mirror showed her with every look.

One year had passed by since China burned beneath the heinous plans of a man who was starved for domination over the world, at least that was the mask he wore. When what he truly sought was to own another soul. In the moment Ada had refused to submit to him and his demands, he manufactured someone to wear her face and steal her name. In the end, he never got to possess the real Ada Wong. Leaving the blood that decorated the streets lingering with her name.

It had been that same length of time since she had said her last goodbye to Leon, leaving him standing in smoke and fire with nothing more than a gentle parting gift. The compact she had left him that contained the data needed to clear not just his name, but every innocent life involved. Once more leaving threads unsevered, and a distance far between them.

This was how Ada Wong expressed her love for another.

She didn’t intentionally count the days she had last seen him, however he did often cross her mind without so much as an effort. A dangerous habit for a woman like her, if anyone were to know how attached she was it could prove fatal for both sides. Being human truly was an inconvenience. She often had to talk herself from reaching for him when her mind went dark. Leon had been the only person she felt truly safe with.

Heels stepped through the threshold into the dark apartment. The scent of her perfume was the only indication that the occupied space was her own. She knew almost instantly that there was an intruder. Slowly clicking the lights in each room on Ada waltzed her way to each unremarkable room as if she didn’t realize someone had intruded.

“I suppose I should congratulate you.” She said a slow amused smile curving intimately upon seeing that Leon had somehow managed to find his way into a residence she never expected to be found. “You’ve found me.” She shifted her weight to her right hip as her finger clicked the living room light. “I haven’t worked a job in over a year Leon, if it’s information you are seeking. I’m fresh out.” When her amber eyes found his with the exhaustion of a woman who spent her entire life running, only for her to discover that she couldn’t outrun the inevitable.

When she'd heard the pitch about recovering villains and a fresh start for someone trying to get a chance to wipe the slate clean, Xue had kind of expected to be asked a lot fewer questions. Doing construction work didn't need nearly this much in the way of background checks.

Where do you live? Chinatown, duh.

Where did you live before that? China.

Where in China? I dunno.

There'd been a lot of "I dunno". How her powers work, where she got them from, why she's being so resistant to "pretty basic" questions. That said, her status as effectively an unincorporated hero (despite the fact that she's tussled with SDN in the past, usually because of "turf wars" they hadn't been aware they were engaging in by showing up to fights she was handling herself) had done some good to smooth the path for her. She'd been put on "probation".

Should probably have guessed those questions weren't just going away, though. She squirms uncomfortably in the seat on the other side of Emma's desk, looking all over the room but not wanting to meet the investigator's eye.

The slow nights, she felt safest to be herself. Many of those who came in and out at this time were either long standing patrons of hers or those who already knew this form. It was also a little more calming for those of lesser cared for species to feel at ease in her establishment. To be one whose own lineage was that of ill repute made it all the easier to relax. There would be no guards patrolling this establishment. For, in all technicalities, it is a sanctuary. Within all legal establishments, many refugees took shelter here before being moved out before guards could demand their exit.

As the chime above the door rang, Nox’s posture shifted so she could greet the newest person within the walls of her home, a gentle smile upon her features. “Welcome in, dear. Are you here for a meal or a room?” Her voice lilts softly as she reaches for a cup from behind her on the shelves. “We’ve plenty of delicacies ready to eat if you’re hungry. Kitchens closed for the night, but there’s still plenty left from the dinner rush.” There is a warmth that the changeling exudes as she pours a mug of water to start. “And whatever is your fancy to drink, all our tea is grown, harvested, and brewed in house.”

The heavy scent of the rotting corridor turned her stomach as she passed through it. Walls covered in a deep black fungus that would make anyone’s stomach turn, no wonder Redfield sent her down here. After Ethan Winters had calcified the target her and Chris was hunting, Ada should have been free of the BSAA’s grasps.

Yet here she was ankle deep in sludge she didn’t care to be stepping through. The ceiling tiles offered little to no lighting, She spent the entire infiltration wondering how she got stuck working undercover Chris Redfield of all people. Especially when the initial contract was done and over with.

Oh how the world seemed to shrink when you were supposed to be dead. Your whole world shrinks down to small points, sewers and moldy corridors. It was the sound of Chris Redfield’s orders being barked at her, this was the price of her freedom. Being dead to everyone who surrounded her.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention, leaning over the iron bars to the ground floor. Dark gems found a familiar frame, her hand moved to the comm unit in her ear. “Redfield we have company.” She pulled herself up to the landing, pointing down she fired off one shot. Just enough to pull attention.

“Let’s have some fun.” Ada quipped her foot leaning out as she released the magazine in her pistol. She dropped without any fear of the height, landing in a crouch. Slowly she stood, the black tactical pants made the red henley she wore more vibrant. Even now fully tactical she wore her signature coloring.

She stood five inches shorter in the tactical boots. Raising the empty gun, she pointed it directly at Leon. “Where’s those knife skills at handsome?” With her free hand she reach over, pulling the tactical mask from her hidden face to reveal herself. “Miss me?”

Ryat's boots scuffed across the floor as he made his way over to the bar. He'd order a whiskey, and likely nurse it all night. He wasn't here for the drinks. It all tasted like ash on his tongue anyway.

He was here to hunt, looking for a good high. It had been weeks since he'd killed.... Not on purpose, but Envy had punished him, keeping him locked up. Something about teaching him a lesson. It was obvious it didn't stick. It never did. She doled her punishment, and in days he'd be back to his same shit, not caring what she wanted of him most of the time. In a way, his free spirit was also why he thought he was her favorite. Sometimes it paid off.

Once his drink was ordered, he leaned against the bar, humanistic hazel hues landing here and there on the faces of several humans, probing gently into their minds, seeking out their thoughts, their fears.... who's soul would taste sweetest on his tongue.

As his drink was set before him, he looked down, the fella just down the bar was making a note on his hand when something happened that hadn't happened in several years.... not since he was human. A single word popped up on his palm. A name.

Damian.

Demons didn't have souls... so how the hell did he still have a soulmate? It had been so long since he'd noticed anything pop up. A part of him thought after he offed himself that he'd put an end to the possibility just like he'd put an end to everything else. So far as he remembered and admittedly, his memory of his human years had been hazy. he'd only ever written one note on his skin. It was to the one he was sure was sitting next to him. It hadn't been so much out of guilt. He didn't feel that even in his old life. It was more... obligation, he supposed. Thinking he was going to take himself away from them for eternity.

I'm sorry... hate me if you need to.

He still wanted to hunt, but it could wait. His interest was piqued. Getting to his feet and moving the few spaces between them, he addressed the other, hazel eyes on him as he turned his hand over, letting him see the single word on his palm in their own handwriting.

"Who's Damian?"

With his power growing, Aizen had learned that his garganta could open more than a split between the Living and Soul worlds, but into other Living Worlds as well. He'd started to slip into some of them, to watch, to learn the differences, to see if any of the humans in those worlds were worthy of his time.

Eventually, though, he found a world where the humans seemed to have broken the boundaries of their own souls and now carried powers as if they carried zanpaktou. The power that should have one day protected them, was there at their disposal already. It was this world that most intrigued him; even if very few had any power worth actually caring about.

But there was one.

One man who's ability could actually prove useful to his cause. It was this man that he sent Gin and Tousen to bring back to him.

Aizen was sitting and watching the moon when the garganta opened, Tousen's scowl telling him the man had fought back. Good, he needed good fighters under him.

Lips curled in his usual indulgent smile, the brunet watched as Gin pushed this human through the garganta ahead of himself. There was amusement in his dark gaze at the way the silver haired man pushed his new warrior to his knees on the stone. His pet still had Shinso drawn, but he'd given the order not to hurt this man before sending his most trusted to fetch him. Aizawa Shota had an important role to play in the upcoming months, after all.

"I take it that my suggestion worked?" His gaze tracked over all three men before him, noting a lack of any real wounds.

"Perfectly, Lord Aizen." Gin's voice lilted brightly as he looked up at his God. "He gave dear Tousen a little trouble, but once I informed him of how my Shinso works and that we would happily visit Miss Eri instead if he didn't care to come with us, he decided to accompany us."

"Thank you, Gin. I appreciate your efforts." There was a hint of darkness in his voice, but one that only he and Gin needed to understand, before he turned his attention to the kneeling man. "It's good to meet you in person, Aizawa Shota. I'd like to welcome you to your new home, here in Los Noches."

Plotted fic. Don't like, block us or the tw, we will block you if you start shit.