#strings.

this is where major cramps and migraines get me

IM GOING TO SELL MY KIDNEY FOR A CRUMB MORE OF INTERACTION BETWEEN THEM /j

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog

“One day, I will be free.”

nero does not often operate within the walls of the honeybee inn. he prefers dark alleys, dimly lit halls, somewhere quiet and dark where he has all control.

but there is merit in agreeing to meet in public and so he is known to do it from time to time. what few conversations he's had with the owner of the establishment makes it clear they are on the same page, and so long as the room is paid for and no blood is shed, they do not much care what nero does with it.

clients think they're earning trust, or luring him into a trap, ensuring that he has to operate within the same channels as they do - but he does not. nero does not enter through the same doors, the room is booked and the staff know to leave well enough alone when a VIP has entered the building.

"obviously," nero says quietly. "as i would presume a man of your standing could well afford to have his pleasures come to him."

he steps out of the back room as though he had always been there. not trailing behind the young president and his entourage of turks from the very moment he'd set foot underneath the plate. his gaze trials from boot to golden crown, head tipping slightly to one side. nothing about his attire says he works here, save for perhaps the bare midriff and the slip of his shirt down his shoulder.

and perhaps the way he moves. slow and sensual, but in a way that speaks more to the power held by a wild animal than a dancer on the hunt for a higher tip.

information, he presumes, is what has brought the man to him... but a visit in person seems a risk he is not sure was worth taking. though he was rarely seen, people spoke well of umbra the informant, who seemed to know more about the company than even those on their payroll. if you needed information about shinra, you need only seek umbra. leave a message at the abandoned train station with a request and payment, and information would find its way to you. sometimes the man himself would appear, but most often you received a letter with your answers.

or the head of a target, neatly packaged in a box, should you have shelled out to have to the dirty work done yourself.

perhaps this was an attempt to plug a leak... perhaps they had gotten wind that he had ties to AVALANCHE, and now that the old president was near to dead the new one sought to tie up loose ends. nero licks his lips behind his mask, eyes glinting in the hopes that this was about to be a very ill-fated attempt at an execution and an astoundingly short lived legacy.

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