Queen of Seven Crossroads (pt.2)

May 15, 2018:

(WARNED: R-rated material is in this Log so don't read it if things like that offend you.)

The continued misadventures of Black Widow and Sugar!

South america


NPCs: Machete, Lips, the Beauty



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Corto Maltesse…

The town of Rei Branca, a recent turf war has left it in a state of disrepair and some ruin. The Rosa Caveira has captured or slain the HYDRA affiliated local gang of the White Kings.

Natasha Romanoff was deployed to secure SHIELD Agent Olivier who has been surveying the ongoings, infiltrated and been one of their number. The man is now MIA.

Sugar once upon a time a local before she turned international associate in the trade of 'life termination' is refinding herself among family and friends, members of the Rosa Caveira itself. Learning something entirely new about her once comrades.

The mercenary known only as Machete is a wildcard, hired by a yet unknown client to disrupt the Rosa Cartel, slay their newest leader who goes by the name 'The Beauty', a woman, once a man who is said to have supernatural powers, claiming to be the high priestess of the Queen of Crossroads. A patron of love, sexual desire, witchcraft, fire, black magic and revenge. The newly praised and worshipped totemic idol of the Rosa Caveira.

The night around the makeshift walls of the South American town is dark, clear skies full of stars and a bright moon. A bright moon that is almost as brilliant as the line of spotlights that just loudly powered on, creating a permiter awash in visibility outside the city itself.

Gunshots inspired this. A churchbell banginig inside the old mingled with new and post-war torn warm south island town.

The palace in the center being the source, the grand hall of it having been hastily turned from a commander's throne room into a temple, a Terreiro den. Though in opposite of the current ways. Darker days are worshipped here.

Machete the mercenary last seen there by Black Widow's drone.

Black Widow herself hidden inside a truck cab. Once safe but now directly lit up underneath a spotlight that hangs no more than fifteen feet above. Shining right down on her or at least the vehicle shes right now seated inside of. At least shes not out in the immediate open.

Sugar has just been guided past the front gates of the town, standing there with just the realization the White Kings had been cloning versions of Hitler. Breeding him in to the local populace and attempting to cultivate superhuman powers for them, this is where all the missing inhumans from the surrounding countryside vanished during the Apocalypse fallout over a year ago.

Lips doesn't seem to care, hes eager to show his old friend around, or was, until the South American cowboy is brought to attention by gunshots, the ringing bell and the powered on area lights.

It appears a peaceful quiet night of partying, victory, celebration and some wholesome ritual sacrifice has been interrupted by foreigners….

Though she'd just lost some of her cover with a spotlight coming down onto her inside of the truck bed, at least she's inside the big old metal contraption! Thats some cover… right?

Quickly the agent falls to her left onto the old blanket that covers the broken spring filled sofa that lines the interior of the old cargo truck. Her black suit and helmet may have made her harder to spot also, but her breathing and heart rate has certainly picked up enough to remind her the troubles and perils that lay ahead of her.

Quietly the Black Widow talks inside of her mask, recording herself and broadcasting it over a SHIELD comm channel. She's explaining what and who all she's seen here so far this evening, reporting to her higher-ups about whats going on while she waits a moment longer to see if her cover was completely blown or not…

[Taskmaster rolls 8 on 1d20.]

Inez has been tense since her landing here… Back home. "Home."

What she is seeing is not home, not at all, the alarms begin to sound, Church bells ring, lights bgin to sweep, but Inez is on silence as she has a platform booted heel just beside 'Jimmy'. The Horrid WWII clone that has no place here, no… not the child. "Run, madre puto!" She states as a hand grips his shoulder and arm pit, /flinging/ him in a direction of shadows as well as cover while this town lights up in small flickers of alarm.

A cell phone is plucked from the side of corseted bosom, a sweep of fingers to Unternet, a secured line hooked in to give coordinates, and find those also connected in the super seekrit line. Desparate times, desparate measures.

"Lips…" A pause and beneath the bandana Inez is smiling, like Sugar only would. "Is this not normal? Tour on." A flick of wrist, but fingers clutch the painted pistols for them to 'sally forth', the phone already tucked back into corseted hold.

Lips in his horrible colorful cowboy get up gives a quick look around them then nods towards Inez. "It might be nothing. Everyone drinking, we got no enemies left here. White Kings are no more, some one probably just real shitfaced and shooting some snakes."
A suspicious look cast around though and he nods his head towards one of the men on the wall, walking with a rifle in their hands, "Hey! Domm, you go do a quick search along the lights. Make sure nothing stupid going down."
"Beauty will want to see you, you should come with me before I let you join the party."

Lips motions Inez after him, about to lead her up the trail towards the palace built out of the center of the town's rocky mini-mountain.

Black Widow narrowly escapes notice as two red scarf Rosa Cartel members walk by. They're not thorough as they look around, one glassy eyed and clearly drunk.

Its once they're around the corner and walking away that she sees to figures clad in all reds, long flowing outfits that leave the feet and hands bare, a shawl upon ones head, the other wearing nothing upon their scalp. They speak quickly, talking low and then on the other side of the truck door from Natasha she can hear the tell tale sounds of two people enjoying one another. Just inside the shadow of the near light base and the truck. The grunting and moaning mingled with giggles. Their clothes piled up in a tossed mess just before the right front wheel of the truck.
Static from the SHIELD comms, a response of "Confirmed." From her handler, "Acquire visual on TARGET AGENT-O. If possible destroy or collect his gathered intelligence. Do not engage locals unless no option given." A hissing click of the line going out.

Its within the next three minutes that those spotlights start to dim down, they do not turn off but the brightness of them lowers to conserve. The sounds of the music inside the town and the celebrating picking up again. Getting loud once more, there is even celebratory trilling.

The streets of Rio Branca littered with party goers, Sugar will have her own confusion, the normal religious robes of the people she once knew among the Rosa, despite their name were always WHITE not Crimson Red… she sees much red now, very little white, no crosses and more of those pentagram style idols.

Natasha's helmet covered eyes look to the two men who meander past her truck and she keeps tabs on them up until the pass by its. Its then that she starts to move again, realizing that she's laying on some clothing she starts to ruffle around it in while overhearing the people having a good time somewhere nearby, which hardly matters to the Black Widow… she's seen it and heard it all.

When the party starts to seemingly pick up its pace once more and the sounds of people passing by can be heard outside, the passenger door on the truck opens up and a redheaded woman steps out with a cigarette between her lips and a baggy dark brown work jacket on over her Widow-gear.

Natasha reaches her hands up with a old plastic lighter to light the cigarette and she moves to walk in and join the rest of the partiers… playing it cool… She's just here for the funz… like everyone else.

'Jimmy' looked like a sugar glider in his cast-awawy from Izel before he was all asshole and elbows in landing and retreat. Hopefully the impact knocked sense into him. A good concussion and sleep would be a blessing if not…

Izel is watchful beside lips, her pistol held at her side, painted in Sugar Skulls and intricate filigris is never re-holstered even as she has to move through the masses in a serpentine motion, movements that have her avoiding any contact, especially of the red-robed cultists that have covered the purity and sanctity of her past in the color of blood, if not truly…

"Beauty, what would /s/he/ want of me, I am but a visitor of a history that is dead." Her ties have been utterly broken, and in seeing this, knowing this Izel's eyes are narrowing, her brows dipping low as she casts a glance to cleavage holding her burn-cell and awaiting a goodvibration of any at all, nearby. "How do you intend to celebrate your daughters Dia de nacimiento?" Birth day. As everything now is no longer of old tradition.

Izel is seeking, nearly prying to spark something from Lips that knows this is not right. Even Izel has not clicked her safety.
"Family is always family." Lips tells Izel as they walk past a group of men and women dancing in a circle, hands going low and high, they are wearing red robes, its harmless looking if one doesn't realize their dance is around a dead man. Recently stabbed to death… their words, likewise, disturbing in their chant, "Through the Night Queen's thighs, life trickles anew, freedom manifests, with Creeping Gira we are blessed and empowered, we ask permission to bath in the blood, to prepare ourselves…. "

It is a mutation from things she likely new of her once life. The trail towards the palace only grows thicker with the red clad worshippers. It's near a frenzy of liberation and revelry.
"You see, Izel, things are better. Everyone is happy in her arms. With Beauty, you will find this also. The Gods forgotten, they live again." He smiles past his moustache, never has Lips been a religious or spiritual man…

Natasha goes undisturbed through the front gates, the cut of her outfit underneath that brown jacket ignored, the dull covering doing a decent enough job, heightwise shes rather normal here as well. Tall is not a thing of these islands unless one of the foreign descended. While she strides a brawny man moves towards her, growing closer and closer, a glare upon his features until he stops and stares down past a heavy brow at her face then up at her hair, "PRetty red hair." He says, not in English but she speaks plenty of languages to make it out. Then he thrusts a bottle of liqour in to her chest, doubles over and starts to vomit violently, his entire body racked with shudders.

The vibration of Sugar's incoming textual update is more query than anything, a repost of the fresh Unternet job. Details require confirmation but there are known tags already lit up to it, signatures of mercenaries present… a machete, a skull, a lightning bolt and a sword. Personal brandings of expensive and known guns for hire.

Natasha is just playing up the casual stride with others, trying to stay close and not look like she's wandering alone, but then again… she has a powerful weapon on her side. She's a 5'3" woman, generally those don't get regarded as huge threats to any sort of security force. When the man approaches her though, she looks over at him and up at his face. She shows a smirk at him. "Its dyed." She tells him, knowing that that alone generally turns some people off who're more interested in the 'all natural redheads'.

When the bottle is thrust against her, she stops walking, and reaches one of her hands up against it to hold it. She takes a step back when the man vomits and just, frowns. "Guess I still got it where it counts." She dryly mutters before she just takes the man's bottle, downs a drink from it and starts walking again… she's listening, and looking around, headed for that central 'palace' in the city at a slow enough pace to not stand out.

Izel is not even looking at Lips now, as she is weighing in on the levity of this situation and what she will have to do, even though those eyes are still up-tilted at the corners in a grin that is malefic with the accent of the bandanna in a skeletal smile. "So I see.." She says.

Even if her tone is uplifted, her internal dialogue is cursing in a dialect that would rapidly portray ire, a scream inside her head…

Until one side of her bosom vibrates dully in a manner only she can feel and hear. Secret Pleasures and all that Jazz!

A bottle is swept from a staggering passerby, chugged and the back of wrist sweeps it all away, smearing the dark paint on her lips sideways. "May I use the ninas bano, first?" A smile and an innocent bat of heavily layered lashes to Lips while the empty bottle is pitched into a nearby fire, shattering and expelling a larger flame briefly.

Little girls room, really? Yep.

But her pace is already directed to a line of bushes if no building is given. Inez needs to pop a squat and check her U-Book!

"Seriously?" Lips questions as they reach the outer gates of the palace. It is crowded by the religious, crimson seas of cloaked and colored people. There is entire buckets of red sand being thrown from above on to anyone that gets near enough, painting the town red is an actual thing here this day.
"The bathroom just inside the doors, better than bushes… Fuck it." Lips turns his attention towards the dancing and singing worshippers, raising his hands in the air to chant with them.

Natasha will now find herself coming up to the same cluster of rose. Even being able to visually witness Sugar stepping away in to one of the half-burned tightly packed homes off the dusty street. Like most houses in the center they were struck with explosive, caught fire and vacated, many inhabitants now dead or relocated further down the hill, towards the walls and mess of tents.

Natasha does indeed look in the direction of Sugar, spotting the woman while holding the liquor bottle in her right hand while her left is inside her stolen jacket's pocket (holding onto oneo fher guns). She eyes Sugar for a few moments, finding the woman to be a curious one who's likely somehow attached to a higher-up in this region (everyone loves assumptions) but she doesn't figure that she would have any information on her target here… Agent Olivier.

No, Natasha's plan is to get inside that fancy central compound/build and have a snoop around. So with another swig of the alcohol out of that bottle, Nat sets it down on a rock wall and twists it around so the label faces out to the street (even Nat can have a little OCD oddness to her).

With a glance around, Natasha… hesitates. Maybe Sugar could help her.

The redhead turns and now moves to follow after the woman, hoping to catch up with her and not hiding the fact that she's following her. She wants to just straight up ask the woman a question!

The level of 'party' is a medium that looks to be keeping the relgious zealots and victorious rebels occupied at least, Lips is standing guard watching outwards as Sugar takes care of personal business only to find himself glancing at Natasha, he looks suspicious at first then cracks a smile. Apparently he likes the way she looks tipping his hat to her and looking forward again.

There is a sudden roar of cheering from those right before them, it is no more than forty people gathered in such a mess but the noise they make is impressive. The palace entry is open, a woman, tall and statuesque appears, broad of shoulders for a female but pretty in the face, large chested, wearing red and orange flame like fabric that falls down her chest, loops over her shoulders. There is nothing else below it beyond a skirt, one that hangs off of her tan hips. Bare foot.
Gazing more intently one will realize sees incredibly tall, perhaps around seven feet or near it, clutched in one hand is a man, long dark hair, craggy faced, a green style outfit of vest, combat fatigues. - Machete. He looks beaten to a pulp. Slack and lifeless.

"See, none stand before us now! The Lady of the Crossroads, Queen of Scarlet and mother of the snakes and the seven Kalungas empowers us! Let our enemies crawl on their bellies before us."
That mercenary is bonelessly flung aside and 'The Beauty' the high priestess of Gira waves her arms wide, "Now, come scarlet children, enter the great hall of our enemies and feast, party, bleed and cry for her. She will come to us this night. Give us more of her blessings so that we may spread her word and liberate more of our brothers and sisters!"

The roar of those near, forty strong and growing as people rush up the streets drowns out all sound, they cram in to that mountain side palace.
'The Beauty' as she now calls herself smiles wide, painted features looking odd, warped, far too perfect, mouth too wide, eyes too bright, teeth too sharp…

Lowering behind the bush, Izel is making it as real as possible, garters fall, lace is around one ankle, crouch had, but the brace is one known to a woman born and raised in this jungle. Guerilla warfare, you spend a lot of time squatting in foliage or on high-perched brances.

Inner thigh is drawn from as the cell is dropped on the ground in front of her and the readout is calculated, the bandana falling to her jaw as a pin is tugged from her pistol with teeth and spat aside, the muzze realigning and modified in a 'trickle' of tiny parts that are deftly shed and then 'wiped clean' to realign into a modified muzzle with a silencer.

Snapping it into place, the woman whose 'real lips' are a mirror image of the bandana's skeletal smile kiss the silencer tip as she makes the sign of the cross…

"En el nombre del padre,
y del hijo,
y del Espiritu Santo…" A look upward and there is a red head, those hazel eyes following the barrels of twin silencers now after her prayer… Forgiveness likely.

A glance down to her phone and the symbol of the 'Machete' starts to blink like a time bomb about to detonate or a flame to go out "Pecado," Sin, no Amen here to close off the prayer.

…. And Natasha's shadow is over her, lace about her ankle and all! "Can a girl get a moment?!" Said in a perky voice, heavily accented and throaty. Silencer is aimed for the cell and it explodes (silently!) into little pices as "Beauty" prattles on. "Deez leaves, too small…" A flutter upward after pulled from the bush into a fan of pathetic distraction while she slices the threads of lace that were merely smuggling holsters to scuttle her hiney out of the foliage!

Unless Nat stops her, that is!

Natasha continues to try to catch up with Sugar, at least until she rounds those bushes and almost literally falls overtop of the squatting woman. Once she realizes whats going on, Natasha just turns around then and puts her back to the other. "I'm sorry." She responds in her husky hued voice. "Honestly, I didn't realize thats what you were coming out here to do." The 'silencer' sound gets a look over Nat's shoulder and she eyes the destroyed phone with a questioning stare for just a second or so before she looks away again.

"Honestly, I just saw a woman who looks like she's familiar with this place and everything going on around here and I was hoping you could show me around and find some fun together. Not… you know… in a flirty sort've way, more in a way that I'm from out of town and just looking to get the insiders-tour of this area, you know, for memory lane. Share with the grand kids someday, kind of thing."

Natasha looks back over her shoulder when she hears some shredding of lace. "You okay?" She asks Sugar then, maybe this woman was more than meets the eye afterall? The irony, right?

The party as it where as now shifted it's location. Migrated in to the grand hall or 'palace' central structure. Black Widow and Sugar are left undisturbed outside other than Lips waiting, "Come on Izel, we are going to miss the beginning of the show. You pissin' like a horse back there?" He begins to walk quietly further away. Giving her more distance but also trying to see inside, "You never seen something like this before. We got to get you, your medallion before we go in too."

This is at least giving Widow and Sugar a few minutes of unwatched freedom…

"No, not familiar anymore, American." The startled Sugar is lighting a small fire in that bush to the lace smuggling holsters while she sits on her startled /culo/ (ass)!
"If I was a Wise tourist, I would turn around and go home, unless your level of fun is what happened to my TracEll?" A tilt of head as a leaf is flicked off her thigh and Sugar rises, keeping her eyes averted from 'Beautiful' and the limp body of Machete, her hand shaken as she rests the silenced pistols at the outer thighs. He was inspiration, Americans made a movie of him!

Her father read stories of him to her at bed time!

The bandana is tugged back up and tightened over the bridge of her nose, but the thumbs, curled around the butt of pistols, sweep up to smear her eyes into a surrounding darkness, liner now a shadow.

A glance to Nat and she is given a once over, th weapons tucked along thighs into the skirt of tulle and leather, hiding them perfectly!

"If you join me, smile wide." Stated from beneath the imprinted toothy grin of her bandana, the ink along the side of her face slowly revealing as in this weather makeup is sweating off, but not completely.

Sugar stands fully then! A stocking tugged HIGHER upon thigh as she does so and then loops arms with Nat if she does not retreat when warned!

"But what of my friend? Mary? I met her when mi padre sent me American. She surprised me! Mary… Lips." Stated as she seeks to saunter his way and loop arms in his as well.

Loyalty? It was not born into nor pledged to this…

One glance to Machete's body and the disappearance of "Beauty's", than away.

A look-over of Natasha wouldn't yield much of an impressive sight right now since she's wearing a man's jacket sized at XL so it was extra baggy on her small frame. Her black suited legs and black boots might look a bit curious on the woman, but then they're surrouned by jungle so they likely come off as just heavy duty hiking boots.

"Hey." Natasha says to Sugar. "I'm not a judgemental type. I'm just here for the experience of it. I come from a boring background… made a lot of money as a programmer out of college and I'm just… trying to get away from that. Sick of sitting in an office building, you know?"

Nat hooks arms with Sugar and offers a bit wide smide at her to show she can do it, her face is certainly pretty enough to pull it off well.

"So what exactly is going on here tonight?" Nat asks then as Sugar seems to be after hooking arms with another too. Nat's goal is to just play the dumb clueless role!

Lips pulls free of his stare towards the palace to look over at them both, he appears dazed. Staring past them not at them and that pentagram like necklace hanging from his neck glows faintly along it's inset, it take a second longer for him to blink and then smile, warmth and clarity returning to his features, "Hello, lovely foreign girl." He says in English, he too has an accent. Just as thick if not thicker than Sugar.

"We go now. Time for you both to join us." He says and starts to walk through the open gates, passed the crumpled body of Machete and up the walkway towards open halls, where inside there is drums, music, the lights have been tapped over with reds. It is absurd how much these people are obsessed with that color, upon crossing the threshold everything is one single color in it's varying shades.

Machete, if checked yet lives, his pulse is shallow with his breathing. He is in a bad condition, perhaps internal injuries…

Lips is steering though, eagerly. "Come come. We get to see her again, we all get to see her, not just Beauty. It is a blessed night, the blood we spilled has her pleased with us."

"This is not the experience of your Sies.. Flags." Izel states to Nat, Lips drawing closer with his disenchatened smile of welcome. His arm loops in Izel's. Childhood friends pass over the body of a childhood legacy laid out before the doorway, hoping the deadening of her TracEll would send out a response to the mutual query of this 'mission'. It all goes dark. "Bad Oscura." Bad and Dark Magic, she leans to Nat and whispers, just before her hand reaches up and trails fingertips over Lips' nape, beneath the wide brim of his hat before a blade flashes and seeks silence from the Dark and Brainwashed Childhood Friend is silenced if he does not dodge her grip!

"We do not want to see her…" A sudden stand still at the doorway, their shadows over Machete's body! "I will not die today… Mary?" A question to the American woman who is doing well in her 'line', but Sugar's eyes are penetrating, because no matter, there is already likely blood on her hands as she steps back and out of the light.

She is not afraid of the dark, the light here is the thing to fear to her!

Sugar does not care who or what 'Mary' is, so long as she chooses the right side..

Natasha is just all smiles, big smiles, as Sugar had told her to do. She even reaches a hand out toward Lips then. "Hi, I'm Natalie. My grandfather used to live here years ago… I came down to see his home as it is today, I'm sorry… I'm a dirty tourist."

Natasha tries to play all coy and such, her voice is sounding more American than usual even. "This is a beautiful place and everyone looks really… amazing."

Natalie's eyes glance toward that Machete. "Well, except him. But maybe he's just had too much to drink. This guy down the street puked at my feet… glad I put on my heavy boots today." Nat then releases a light and nervous sounding laugh as she reaches a hand up to stroke her red hair back behind an ear. She does note all the 'red' being flaunted around here too.

Lips grins at them both, stepping near Machete he suddenly stops, confused at the touch from Sugar, he has taken Natasha's hand as well, "Lovely name." He says politely, he even manages to say this before a red line appears along his neck, his eyes do that far away stare again and this time its not from the medallion but that abrupt loss of life. He falls. His body lands next to the mercenary on the ground.

No one around them appears to notice that casually, almost so, Sugar just murdered one of their own. Of course everyone is inside and this was out on the front yard, by Machete, just before the steps.
The palace floor is open in the center, stairwells lead up, to a high balcony and people sit on those, each step occupied. ALL around the room in rows there are bodies standing, side to side, elbow to elbow. Crammed in as they have formed a ring round the altar in the middle, it is adorned in flowers, alcohol is piled up around it, the red on red on red, makes it hard to see much for colors, its like theyre trying to develop film.
The tall high priestess, Beauty is there, one knee lifted on to the altar, hands raised above her head, chanting, no real words just throat sounds that rise and fall. Growing in crescendo…
Natasha will see it if she looks hard, a man, short hair, clearly caucasian with glasses, red robes, a medallion around his neck. Agent Olivier of SHIELD. Yet… he has the same look in his eyes as these people.

Izel had introduced the woman as 'Mary'. Like her Hail Mary before she made her final decision here.

Natalie is watched, but Izel lowers slowly with the fall of Lips' body, it was afterall, her childhood friend who she just took the life from before the woman.

"He was a good man, a good father, a good child that I knew." Izel says as she sinks in the doorway with the body of her childhood friend, her fingers laced with his blood.

Her eyes glance alight with unshed sorrow towards Machete, as a lot of her dreams were snuffed tonight. "That Beutiful Bitch dies tonight." A deep breath sniffed in through nostrils as Izel slides from beneath Lips and draws her weapons. "This is not my people…" A side step in her kneel to reach to the side and check Machete's pulse before she rises.

"He your piel blanca?" Fellow…American… But as the wipe at her face with a hand carrying her pistol occurs, the bandana falls. Her face is a humid and moisture smeared Sugar Skull painting.

"Let's get you both out of this /inferno/." Sugar states, and despite her moment there is a smile as she starts to approach the doors with this 'Natalie'/'Mary'.

When Lips is slain in front of her, Natalie's eyes go wide and she watches the man's body tumble down to the ground. She listens to Sugar's rundown of the kind of man he 'was' and she gently shakes her head side to side. "That is not what I was expecting when I was hunting for fun tonight." Natalie says then before she releases a light sigh. "I'll admit though, that was pretty intense. But please, spare me… I have -got- to see the end of Game of Thrones before I die." And that is said in a very dry wit tone of voice.

Nat's green eyes look up and over to the robed ceremony going on and she narrows her vision, her dark brows lowering over said green eyes as her eyelids move to slits. "Friends of yours?" She asks Sugar then while she spots the face of Agent Olivier in robe and ceremonial flare himself… Perhaps he's still under cover, and not… all of Temple of Doom brainwashed.

Nat looks back to Sugar then, curious to see what this rather unpredictable woman is going to do next.

Olivier is religious zombie like the rest. Staring forth attention fixed upon the central dais like all the rest. The drum beat is in sync with the chanting, rise up and fall, rise up and up, fall, repeat. The voices, the beat. The red of the room actually disorienting, bleeding together everything. There is a scent on the air, incense, sage, opiates? Its causing further sensory disruption and disorientation for those present, things just sort of 'wave and mesh' in a back and forth ride.
One by one the medallions on all those gathered begin to brighen, crimson veins of light etching around the pentagram like symbol.

There is no one paying attention to Sugar and Natasha. There is an intense focus towards Beauty, the priestess as he rises up, not from a knee no, she floats above the altar and spreads her lithe yet muscular arms and legs out her head thrown back, hair a wild mane that swings behind her life a living flame.

Chanting and drums become a thunderous BOOM and keening wails, watchers sway left and right like reeds caught in a windstorm and the red of the room looks as though it is all folding in on a single point above 'Beauty' an orb that suckles the color out of the entire room itself, making everything blacks and greys to whites, the only source of color, that red sphere, pulsing and growing. Seering an image in the middle of ones eyes like staring at the sun too long. The worshippers eyes begin to glow also….

"Sooo~ not a tourist response." Sugar states as she tosses a tulle-leather clad hip into the door and eases through. The brightly colored .357's held at her side as she does so, the modified silencer extensions massive in comparison, but for REASONS!

"Madito belleza…" Sugar whispers and then looks back. "You gonna run Natalie?" Because shit is about to get Oceans 8 level in here!

The color exits the room and Sugar is attempting to backpedal and avoid the cast of magics that will make her and Oz two different stories of Technicolor.

"I need my Grande Pene for dis level of sheit." Anyone else got the Big Gun?!


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