WELCOME TO R.A.N.T.
We are an original character roleplay based in an alternate version of our modern world. Society, superpowered but dynaphobic, has been split into two groups, each imprisoned by dusk and dawn. The plot is entirely player-driven and has a heavy online focus. We encourage members to use their characters to shape and shift the world in whatever ways they can and to experiment with new ideas and storylines.
diarkís
AUGUST, 2017
06/01 Official site open! Please check the announcements for important updates and special events.

05/15 Site soft-open! Players who create characters between now and the official opening on the first of June can purchase a second rank for free (375 point value). This is limited to one per OOC account.

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 the destruction of all convention, @alexei
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
If one were to imagine a person who was full of intelligent and well thought out ideas, there would likely be a handful of beings who came to mind. No doubt it would consist of members of daytime society and perhaps a handful of nychta. If one continued to imagine and limited themselves to only the latter, after a few moments of thought it would no doubt easily be possible for them to come up with the same amount of individuals.

The so-called Archer Reiter would not be one of those mentioned on the hypothetical list.

Everything about him seemed to scream 'bad life decisions', from his choice in tattoos - the only of which was exposed for the time being consisting of a simple yet stark black inverted cross on an inner wrist - to his profession and all the way down to where exactly he had allowed his feet to lead him. While he was entirely aware that he had meandered his way downtown (something that was far from difficult to do, seeing as he lived in the near immediate area), he was unaware of where exactly his unconscious footsteps had led him. That was an issue for his future self. The issue for his present self was his lack of sleep.

All his life, insomnia had been something that plagued him. At some times it was better than others. Some days it seemed to be a minor problem at most, while on others sleep would elude him for so long that delirium would begin to set in. Currently, if he had been counting (which he never bothered to do), he would have marked himself as having been awake for the last 30 or so hours. There was some sort of twisted irony regarding his status of untagged. While he valued his freedom, it was impossible for him not to harbor some sort of envy for those who were so regularly and consistently blessed with sleep. Whether he would trade one for the other, he was still undecided on. But he could appreciate the irony of it, if nothing else.

Thin fingers that could be described as somewhere between bony and those of a pianist curled intently around the coffee thermos within his grasp. Whatever it was filled with was known only to Archer himself, though the way he was holding it gave away the likeliness of it being something hot.

Eventually and slowly he came back to the real world and took a better look at his surroundings. The blood drained from his already pale face when the realization stuck him as to exactly how close he had managed to wander to a part of the city he did his damnedest to stay away from. Too many lykofos around the current portion of downtown. Accordingly, his pace sped up in an attempt to get to anywhere that he would be more comfortable. Literally anywhere.

He crossed the street hurriedly, scowling at himself and muttering something in a language that clearly wasn't English. He was going to stick out for sure in a place with people like that.

wow I hardcore suck rn, forgive me
and every breath that I've been taken since you left feels like a waste on me I've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace cause every word that I've heard spoken since you left feels like a hollow street
counting days
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
390 POINTS EARNED
737 POSTS MADE
Sasha
26
he/him
sniper
pan
single
rank 4
MEET Sasha
Sasha had been following the guy for exactly eleven minutes and forty-two seconds now.

It was somewhat amazing how out of it the man apparently was as he didn't seem to have noticed that someone had been tailing him for a really fucking long time. Well, maybe not that long but anything more than a few minutes was probably a reason to worry, particularly at this time of the day, or rather: night. Sasha was fairly convinced his perhaps-victim had no clue, no one was that good an actor. Especially among the Nychta such obliviousness could be extremely dangerous, whether it was genuine or just an act. Diarkis after sunset was, after all, inhabited mostly by criminals and while Sasha was aware that criminal was a pretty vague term as far as switching cycles was concerned, he knew that no one really remained innocent once they had been switched. Giving in to the omnipresent corruption was the only way to survive, it was a lesson people tended to learn rather quickly if they wanted to keep being alive for a bit longer.

The second lesson any night time person learned was wariness, something that the weird guy was very obviously lacking. Truth be told, Sasha wasn't even all that interested, he just had a free two hours ahead of himself before he needed to be elsewhere and he liked to fuck with people, so there he was, following the footsteps of some random Nychta just so he could see how long it would take the stranger to notice. Considering that he looked pretty high, Sasha would bet his best rifle that it might take a while.

Possibly more time than he, unfortunately, had. Most of all, however, he didn't feel like sacrificing that much of his free time for someone he had never even seen before. It wasn't a matter of patience, Sasha had that in spades, but interest: people in general held little appeal to him, though some stood out more than most.

Whether this one would turn out a little more time-worthy than the majority of people Sasha encountered remained unclear. If nothing else, well, Sasha could always shoot him, it wasn't like anyone would care about a fucking Nychta's life. His corpse would be cleaned up by one of the morning crews, after possibly being ransacked first, and very likely no one would remember a waifish black-haired kid who was too dumb to notice a threat as obvious as a Lykofos agent paying way too much attention to him.

And it seemed that there was a lot to pay attention to.

The strange behavior was the first clue. Of course, a drugged or simply deranged Nychta was nothing out of the ordinary here, so that alone would have told Sasha absolutely nothing. Then there was the muttering, though, which sounded much more suspicious. It was very clearly not English and while it wasn't impossible that the guy had simply been born to immigrants, Sasha had been taught to question this kind of stuff. Traveling long distances had become extremely difficult after the implementation of the Cycle, so anyone who seemed to come from a faraway place was automatically suspected of being untagged.

If that was the case here, Sasha was well within his right to not only follow the guy but shoot him on sight.

For now, he settled for actually matching his steps to the stranger's and, after a few more meters, reaching for the thermos the man was holding. Sasha had been kind of hoping that it would be filled with alcohol, so the warmth he could feel under his fingers disappointed him.

"It's pretty warm tonight, isn't it?" he inquired politely, shooting the man a charming smile that he knew tended to make people wary whenever he matched it with the Lykofos uniform, which he was wearing right now. "The kind of night that just makes you want to wander aimlessly." Gallivanting had also been illegal once, Sasha was pretty convinced of that.


@adrien
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
For as unaware as his conscious mind had allowed itself to be, there was the instinct within his most primal brain to remain alive. 'The lizard brain', his father had always called it. In retaliation, Archer had always been inclined to point out the older man's similarities with reptiles. Cold to the touch and unreadable. But as he always was, Euclid had been far too correct. It was a lesson that the young man had learned the hard way while forging out a life on his own. After so many years on the streets - sometimes figuratively and sometimes uncomfortably literally - his instinctual reflexes had become honed and something that he didn't dare to question. Better paranoid than dead. Or worse.

The night was warm and despite that, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and he could practically feel a chill running down his spine. His knee jerk reaction was to whip around to find whatever it was that had caused him to have that reaction, followed quickly by the desire to run. Fight or flight. And with how lacking his stature was, fighting didn't generally turn out in his favor. Not that running would serve him much better. All it would do would be to draw attention and suspect to himself. Something he didn't fancy dealing with.

He was nothing but prey and he could feel it all too well. There was a danger just to existing. It wouldn't be the first or the last time that someone had decided to tail him for whatever reason. If only it hadn't taken him so long to catch on, he could have potentially shaken them. It was too late to dwell on that.

In what could have been an ironic twist he could have appreciated, had he not been in such immediate potential danger, his focus on trying to figure out what exactly was going on blinded him to exactly that. The hand outstretched to him caught him off guard and he lifted one of his own hands to slap it out of the way and away from himself. It brought him violently back to the present with a sharp inhalation of breath that took the shape of a single foreign word.

"Fotze--"

Archer looked up in a movement as sharp as the noise that had just come from him. Oh. Oh no. The man who had decided to get his attention was the opposite of ideal. He knew that uniform all too well thanks to a lifetime of trying to avoid exactly the situation he had just found himself in.

"Spooked me, didn't you?" He tucked the thermos beneath his arm and against his side protectively, holding it tightly against his body so as to free both his hands. With the mindless familiarity of a longtime smoker, he produced a relatively nondescript black carton and a lighter in one hand and drew out what looked to be a black cigarette with the fingers of his opposite hand. "I didn't know you type were into the whole 'wandering aimlessly' bit. As for me, gets me from point a to point b without the whole broke people bugging me for money deal." By the time he had finished speaking, he had a lit clove held between his fingers and the package of cloves had been tucked safely into his pocket once more.

The man in front of him didn't seem to be the most physically intimidating, but that fact allowed him little solace. A specially trained Lykofos guard dog against nothing more than a particularly lucky and resilient street mutt? He would be lucky if his corpse was found in a single piece. With fight and flight both so effortlessly stricken off his list of options, what did that leave?

Flirting, if he wanted to keep with the alliteration. Talking, if he wanted to be more concise in his inner description.

"Actually..." When he put the slender cigarette to his lips and emptied his hand of it, he flipped his hand so that it was palm side down with an unlit twin of the first one between his fingers as if he were performing some sort of magic trick. "Rude of me not to offer you one. Not sure if you smoke or if normal cigarettes are more your thing, but cloves are all I keep on me." It certainly explained the reason why everything about him held a subtle but lingering trace of cinnamon hinted smokiness.

and every breath that I've been taken since you left feels like a waste on me I've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace cause every word that I've heard spoken since you left feels like a hollow street
counting days
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
390 POINTS EARNED
737 POSTS MADE
Sasha
26
he/him
sniper
pan
single
rank 4
MEET Sasha
The man seemed to have some sense of survival, as proved by the way he had raised a hand to protect himself. The meager attempt to stop Sasha was only the first step: shielding oneself from threats might be natural but the sight of a Lykofos uniform should instantly eradicate any willingness to resist as soon as it registered. Alexei was not even satisfied that it had worked this time as, frankly, he had not been expecting anything else. It didn't matter that junkies could be unpredictable, whether they were Nychta or Imera -- this one, despite looking quite absent, didn't really make an impression of someone who would be suicidal enough to fight back against one of the widely feared soldiers. Not at the first sight, at least, and Sasha had encountered enough people who had had significantly less common sense to trust his judgment.

It was a bit surprising that the man, after the initial panic, managed to appear only a little unsettled. He even managed to talk back, quite rudely at that, which made Sasha raise an eyebrow as he looked the stranger over one more time. Most Nychta were too afraid to engage Lykofos agents in a conversation, but those who tried were usually a little coyer, and much, much more wary. This one, on the other hand, looked understandably distrustful yet unlike to try and make a run for it the first chance he got. Of course, trying to outrun a gun was usually a disastrous idea, so perhaps the man wasn't all that stupid after all.

With a hum, Sasha took the offered cigarette. Instead of lighting it, however, he just inspected it closely, somewhat intrigued by the smell but definitely not willing to put an unfamiliar substance in his mouth, even if it looked as inconspicuous as this. "Well, did I?" he countered, tucking the cigarette behind his ear. "You should pay more attention to your surroundings, then." The words were void of any sense of concern, Sasha didn't give a shit about anyone's well-being but his own and with Nychta, he didn't even have to pretend that their lives mattered to him. "If you did, maybe you would know that nothing we do is without reason," he added, clearly addressing the comment about wandering aimlessly. The good thing was that he didn't look particularly insulted; but then again, he hardly looked amused either.

The slight shift in the man's demeanor, as well as the barely noticeable change in his tone, did not surprise Sasha in the slightest. It wasn't exactly flirting, which he was rather used to, but it was close enough: a certain openness to various survival strategies. Nychta had very limited options when it came to keeping themselves safe, from Lykofos' wrath but also in a more general sense, so it was quite rare to find one who would be above using their body or at least personal charm to deflect trouble. Sasha found himself wondering if that was what this one would eventually resort to.

For now, he reached for the cigarette again and rolled it between his fingers, inhaling the distinct scent of cloves. It did smell better than good old nicotine; if Sasha was a more considerate person, he might have tried smoking something more like this whenever Rosefsky was around. Unfortunately, considerate was not a part of Sasha's vocabulary, so the thought didn't even occur to him.

"A weird choice," he observed. "Are you going to tell me your name or will I have to scan you?"


@adrien
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
For as much control as Archer tried to exercise over his personal life, all it took was a run in with an officer or two to remind him exactly how little control or say he had regarding anything. His father had told him of the second World War, of the Untermensch who were treated as nothing even bordering upon human. Subhuman, quite literally. Everything he had been told had been of personal and firsthand accounts. For all of Euclid's intelligence and wit, with his parents having been Serbian and Russian, he had been just another tattooed number. It was something that Archer had never been able to fully understand. That sort of thing was in the past. A lifetime ago. Except maybe it wasn't so far gone, after all.

Briefly, while he weighed his options, his lower lip found itself between his teeth and drawn back, revealing for a split second two sets of pointed canine teeth as opposed to one. His silence and potential hesitation were short lived. They would get him nowhere and both himself and the uniformed stranger knew that. All of his options were so limited that to think any choice in the interaction were his was a comical thought at best.

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.

Why was that the first thing that came to mind?

Apprehension did strange things to a person's mind.

"Oh, we all know that." Of course Lykofos did whatever they wanted with whatever reason they chose. For all the rights Archer had, he may as well have been nothing more than an animal to be hunted for sport. "Wandering can be good for clearing your head." It was apparent that he carried a good deal of hesitation about continuing that current line of conversation. All of his bravado in his day to day (night to night, rather) life may as well not have existed when faced with such a confrontation. Not if he wanted to remain among the living, that was.

The German began to move to offer a light for the clove cigarette, only to find that it had been tucked behind the other's ear. Something he was familiar with. It reminded him of something that wanted and begged to trigger the memory of someone or something, but whatever it was continued to elude him.

"I like the way they smell. They taste better, too. Could never get into methols or anything myself." That answer was the easy one, to a question that had never even been asked. It was the follow up that presented all too many potentially deadly outcomes. Not answering was no option at all. He didn't even have anything to scan. Certain death. But answering too quickly would be a dead giveaway that he was guilty of hiding something. It was all about timing. "We're already talking. Archer Reiter." There was no chip to say otherwise, after all.

notes
and every breath that I've been taken since you left feels like a waste on me I've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace cause every word that I've heard spoken since you left feels like a hollow street
counting days
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
390 POINTS EARNED
737 POSTS MADE
Sasha
26
he/him
sniper
pan
single
rank 4
MEET Sasha
There was something almost dismissive about the way the man voiced his acknowledgment of Lykofos' habits that made Sasha look him over again, as if he was trying to decide whether he should be insulted or not. It was a strange character trait for the soldier: he liked to think that he was not easily offended, if only because he simply did not care about people enough to be genuinely bothered by their opinions, but he also did not tolerate insolence in any form. It could come across as a sensitivity of sorts and perhaps proved that what Sasha thought about himself was not necessarily accurate from an objective point of view.

As if that had ever mattered.

They had just passed a bar. The patrons gathered around the entrance with cigarettes hanging from their mouths eyed the pair curiously, some of them looking relieved that the Lykofos' attention had not been turned toward them, some strangely excited by the possibility of bloodshed. Sasha entertained the thought of pulling out his gun and shooting the man right there in the middle of the street just because he could, because there was no one who would be able to stop him and no one who would hold it against him. The stranger, for all of his ambiguously-voiced agreements, seemed to be aware of that. It was the only or at least the most prominent thing that stopped Sasha from actually killing him -- for now.

"You are supposed to." That didn't really need to be said but Alexei wanted to make extra sure that they both knew where they stood and who was in control. Not that there had been any doubt -- he just got off on these little power trips. The man's latter comment made him smirk, though it was relatively faint. "Is that what you need right now? Clearing your head?" Sasha questioned, though, of course, not out of any sort of concern for the Nychta. "Something troubling you?" he inquired further, rather politely, a little curious if he would even get an answer. It would be dangerous to ignore the question but then again, no sane Nychta would spill their heart out to a Lykofos, especially one who had approached them so randomly. Sasha imagined that he would be subtly dismissed, probably told that there were some personal issues the man did not wish to trouble him with.

Unless Archer was less predictable than Sasha expected him to, but that seemed unlikely.

"Ah." Sasha almost smiled at the explanation he had neither expected nor asked for. "I dislike menthols as well." It didn't seem to matter that they had this much in common. Sasha must be in a relatively good mood to even engage in such small talk at all, which actually boded well for the Nychta even if he couldn't exactly know that. "Reiter, huh?" Sasha hummed, taking his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to light one himself. He didn't pause to consider if the smell of nicotine would bother his new friend but even if he had, it was unlikely he would have cared. "Sounds foreign." He also didn't think to introduce himself.


@adrien
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
There were no words that could easily summarize the various emotions and primal urges running through Archer's system and mind at that exact moment. To be so effectively cornered by what was basically an armed soldier with no way out and no defenses other than his own words? He could feel something that he could only peg as fear beginning to creep its way up his spine. And with that rising feeling came the adrenaline and the feeling that he had missed a step on a flight of stairs; anxiety rooting itself deep in the pit of his stomach. It had gotten so easy to forget that his life was forfeit. Illegal at worst and unwanted at best.

His dark eyes - a deep green dark enough to be mistaken for something close to black - remained focused intently on the man before him, though not on his face. His gaze didn't hold still and flit about absently from the immediate area around them and then back to the Lykofos himself. It wasn't an uncommon demeanor for a Nychta to have. Every movement and careful gesture and stare were those of prey so close to being within the grasp of a predator. And for those like Archer, there were oh so many predators around every corner and eager to sink their fangs into him.

The nicotine and familiar smell of his own cigarette served to soothe him back into something resembling normalcy. It settled him enough so that when he spoke, his voice was steady and the same way that it had been for their entire conversation. "Troubling me? Just everyday life things, you know. Lykofos, criminals, a steady income, trying to avoid being a murder victim or worse." For as morbid as his words were, he still flashed a smile that was more of a smirk due to the sideways nature of his smile and the way his lips only just barely parted. "Also thinking about getting a real drink to wash this coffee down with. I'd ask if you wanted to come with, but I'm not sure how the whole drinking on the job thing works for you."

Why did he say that. Why had he even opened that door?

Might as well keep with his best efforts at keeping a certain amount of confidence.

"Ja, ja. Reiter. It's German. Parents were immigrants. Mum's German and dad is Eastern European. Slavic. So I'm a good old fashioned mutt."

notes
and every breath that I've been taken since you left feels like a waste on me I've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace cause every word that I've heard spoken since you left feels like a hollow street
counting days
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
390 POINTS EARNED
737 POSTS MADE
Sasha
26
he/him
sniper
pan
single
rank 4
MEET Sasha
The man -- Archer, although his name hardly mattered -- was watching Sasha with an expression that the soldier was quite familiar with. It was indeed common among the Nychta -- the smarter ones, at least, who knew that their survival depended on their ability to recognize danger before it got too close. When said threat was a person clad in a black uniform and wearing an orange badge, well, it was usually best to turn back and avoid so much as eye contact. Archer had failed spectacularly in that area and he seemed to be as aware of it as Sasha was.

There were, of course, a few ways a meeting with a Lykofos could go for an unfortunate Nychta. Archer seemed to have lucked out on that, at least: Sasha had not pulled out his gun yet, which was definitely a good thing, and, vaguely threatening but otherwise perfectly normal behavior aside, he was not even being all that hostile. While the thing about Lykofos was that they could become volatile within seconds -- and the same undoubtedly went for Sasha -- Archer had the questionable honor of talking to one who had not turned visibly murderous yet. Yet being the key word and Sasha was a little curious how the man would go about trying to remain on his good side.

The morbid sense of humor, if it could even be called that since Archer's words were actually a pretty accurate description of reality, wasn't a bad start. It could have been better but Sasha still found himself more amused than not, even if there was a hint of disdain in there. Despite having been born a Nychta, he felt a great amount of contempt for their daily struggles and Archer's worries were no exception.

"You don't need to worry about my job." The sniper's voice was harsh but not as harsh as it could have been. "The better question is, would you really like to go out for drinks with a Lykofos?" Most Nychta knew that getting on well with the soldiers was the key to survival, however, very few seemed to enjoy it. Some even despised their own kind who spent a little too much time with Lykofos agents, almost as if they found it genuinely entertaining, so the open invitation was somewhat surprising. Sasha would likely take Archer up on his offer just to be a little shit.

"Sounds like your parents came a long way. You don't often hear about people traveling such long distances." Well, tagged people didn't.


@adrien
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
His night would have been so much easier if he had been able to avoid the Lykofos agent. He would have fallen back into his normal routine. With no real times to other people, Archer simply drifted back and forth through life and popped up when he felt the urge. A rare urge, indeed. It was easier to let his life fall to pieces and to subject himself to the whims of his clients. A masochistic leaning. Self harm didn't count as self harm if it was inflicted by another person, after all. What more was he really good for? After so many failures, Archer had long since decided that successful relationships and a modicum of a happy life were things meant for other individuals and not himself.

Instead of dipping into nothingness, his evening had been knocked ajar by the sniper's appearance. And despite Archer's skill at it, even he couldn't manage to think ahead to how the unasked for event might end up. Dead or worse, maybe. He wasn't quite ready for that. So his decision to try and stay on the other's good side went without saying. But at what potential cost?

"Drinking with someone is better than drinking by myself." The Nychta flashed another brief smile, despite the way that the look in his eyes didn't change. What sort of emotion was lingering in his expression wasn't overtly clear. It was nothing akin to happiness. Maybe a blend of resignation and vague amusement. "I offered, didn't I? If I'm paying, you're getting a price limit. Money can be an issue to come by in my line of work." He raised both his eyebrows idly, a shadow of a smile on his face. Or at least, something close enough to it in order to be mistaken for one.

"Both of em ended up over here because of something to do with the wars. Dad fought back in the '90s and they ended up over here. Serbo-Bosnian, I think. He's been in more than one." Archer shrugged, flicking away the burnt out stub of his cigarette. The trick was just to remain relaxed and conversation. The man beside him seemed to react well to that sort of thing. "They're both Imera still, far as I know. Mum's a tailor and old man's a surgeon or a coroner. Depends on when you ask him."

notes
and every breath that I've been taken since you left feels like a waste on me I've been holding on to hope that you'll come back when you can find some peace cause every word that I've heard spoken since you left feels like a hollow street
counting days
mal gmt/gmt+1 she/her 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 mal#4187
390 POINTS EARNED
737 POSTS MADE
Sasha
26
he/him
sniper
pan
single
rank 4
MEET Sasha
Sasha knew how to recognize a dishonest expression: he had spent a lifetime faking smiles and politeness himself. The ingenuity of Archer's expression certainly did not deter him, in fact, it didn't even displease him. On the contrary, actually, for what was the fact that the Nychta thought to put on a smile in an order to appear non-threatening if not a solid proof of Sasha's power over him? As a Lykofos, he could end the man's life any second now just because he felt like it. He didn't even need to be provoked. A simple whim would be a good enough reason.

Drinking with someone is better. Those words made Sasha smirk because who in their right mind would prefer a soldier's company to anything? An Imera, perhaps, but for a Nychta this was a rather unusual behavior. Not completely unheard of -- people were just people, after all, and quite a few liked to tempt fate -- but unusual indeed. While Sasha had certainly met people he found more intriguing than the man in front of him, the invitation was enough to hold his interest for a while longer, unfortunately for Archer.

He hummed, throwing the burned-out cigarette away and immediately lighting up another. The one he had gotten from Archer was still tucked behind his ear. "I can pay for my own drinks." Or not pay -- there were hardly ever any consequences to a Lykofos agent refusing to pay for something they wanted. Virtually never if it happened in a Nychta-owned venue. "If you're nice enough, maybe I'll even pay for yours."

A part of growing up as Lykofos was getting used to treating money like a very abstract concept. Sasha knew how much things cost and he knew which bribes were worth the trouble and which were just insultingly low -- but he had never had to pay his own rent, or worry about not having enough money for food and clothes. Being Lykofos was so much more than just a job, after all. To hear Archer mention his own, however, managed to pique his curiosity somewhat.

"And what is your line of work?" he asked. Nychtas' options when it came to jobs were as limited as with everything else, though not as limited as one might think. Sure, the education, economy, and healthcare were abysmally low-standard, but this was still a whole population who needed to earn their living somehow. Even if most of them were useless junkies, those drugs never came for free.

The surprisingly detailed story sounded believable, besides, Sasha wasn't truly invested in it anyway. Still, he didn't just let it go. "Your old man sounds like an interesting person," he observed, glancing at Archer. "Reiter, was it? I'll make sure to pay him a visit."


@adrien
adrien cst he/him 25 Offline 3 | 3 | 3 gay rat dad#1820
120 POINTS EARNED
71 POSTS MADE
archer
23
he/him
escort
gay
single
rank 2
MEET archer
you strike with soul
The real question was why and how the current conversation had managed to run for so long. He had been counting on the agent's attention span to wane and for him to be found far too boring to continue bothering. No such luck. It was beginning to seem like thanks to all of his attempts at survival, he had ever so effectively shot himself in the damn foot. And as far as Archer was concerned, Lykofos agents were like sharks. They got a whiff of blood and they came swimming to hone in on that weakness.

"Oh, goodie." With the discordant combination of the word choice and the Nychta's appearance, it would have been a jarring thing to hear come from his lips. He doubted the man in front of him would care. But he would notice, of course. It was a safe assumption to make that he would notice everything. Notice it and file it away in whatever cold metal filing cabinet constituted as his brain. It was probably the only functioning organ that he had. "I love having motivation."

There was no doubt that his supposed ease with the situation and the amount of flippancy he had adopted was potentially a horrible idea. But just existing in the same airspace as the taller man was a horrible idea. So many routes ended in torture or death! What a wonderful situation.

While the following questions weren't surprising, they weren't exactly ones that he wanted to answer. Too bad he had no option regarding that. The only choice he had in the matter was what exactly he was going to say by means of an answer. The truth, a lie, or some blend of the two? The odds of him being called out on a lie were high. Too high for his liking. Too high to risk it. As his options narrowed even further, he kept the growing grimace to an internal expression only. His line of work was something that paid the bills better than so many other things that he could have found himself doing. But that didn't mean that he wanted to delve into the sordid details of the methods of his survival. Especially not to the uniformed man right up in his personal space.

Well. No time like the present!

"Oh. You know." Archer found himself procuring another clove and lighting it as a way to distract himself and keep his hands busy while buying a few more precious seconds. "Something a little more expensive and a little fancier than prostitution. But. Well. Prostitution." Good thing it wasn't illegal like it would have been for those in the daycycle. Not to say that his clients didn't necessarily number among the Imera population and Lykofos alike. There was only the slightest amount of common sense that kept him from adding some sort of facetious comment about the man in front of him. The last thing he needed was a dark alley and a bad idea.

He had bigger issues to deal with.

Such as the way that the last name repeated to his face was fake. It was one that he lived by but not one that he had been born with and not one that his parents shared with him. At least Archer had a decent amount of talent when it came to thinking on his feet.

"His last name is Leides. Great big beak of a nose, can't miss him."

What the fuck had he gotten himself into.

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The jarring contrast between the Nychta's appearance and the way he carried himself and the choice of words with which he reacted to Sasha's generous declaration had indeed not gone unnoticed. Along with the tone of Archer's voice, it made it quite clear that the man's enthusiasm could not be any lower without entering the negatives, or perhaps it already had if Sasha read his expression and the way he nervously fiddled with a clove properly. Not that Sasha could bring himself to feel even an ounce of sympathy for him: the Nychta had dug his own grave and instead of trying to salvage the situation, he just kept digging.

"As far as types of motivation go," the Lykofos observed rather casually, "I could certainly provide a much worse one." Was it still a threat if he was merely stating a fact, one that was no doubt quite obvious to the man beside him? Being good was a vague term that could cover a variety of things, not all of which would be pleasant, but it was still better than open blackmail, at least from Sasha's perspective. At least, he was giving Archer some illusion of safety by not listing off every terrible thing he could possibly do to him.

He was not very subtly hinting at them, though, and Archer, having obviously been Nychta for a while, could probably fill in the blanks quite accurately -- something that Sasha very much preferred to more forward threats. It was always much more fun to let people's imagination run wild -- after all, they knew best what scared (and therefore affected) them the most. Lykofos relied heavily on their intimidation factor so, in a way, people were doing Sasha's job for him by coming up with the wildest and most horrifying scenarios of what might happen to them if they were not careful enough.

And yet Ares kept talking instead of trying to more or less politely (and more or less obviously) excuse himself from the situation. Curious, and Sasha was in a good enough mood to take it as an invitation rather than an insult.

The revelation of what the man's source of income was hardly shocked the soldier. Prostitution, in one form or another, seemed to be such a popular solution to so many Nychta that it was a surprise there was anyone within their cycle left to pay for it. If they didn't suck dicks or get fucked, they sold their used panties or pictures of their body parts, or showed themselves off on cameras, or worked the poles of one of the many strip clubs night time had to offer. Of course, Sasha knew all that partially because Lykofos were often regular visitors at such places and even more regular clients of the sex workers who were quite happy (or at least very good at pretending to be happy) to jump at the opportunity to get some additional protection in return for certain favors. Alexei would lie if he said that he had never entered such an arrangement himself.

It made him look Archer over with more interest than before, something that most likely had not escaped the man's attention.

"What a fancy and yet common way of saying you do fetish," he snorted, amused. "So what is it? I'm guessing the whole leashes and ropes stuff judging by the way you look." A smirk slowly spread across his lips before he added, "Is this your work uniform? Sorry, have I intercepted you on a way to a client?"

Somehow this seemed like a more important thing to focus on that Archer's father all of sudden, but Sasha noted the different last names as something to possibly look into later but only if he found himself feeling particularly bored. Archer's strategy to act casual even about the possibly weird stuff seemed to be working: Sasha was not invested enough in him to stalk him as relentlessly as he did (or had in the past) some others and nothing Archer had said so far had made him particularly inclined to. Still, he couldn't just let this part of the conversation fade into nothing.

"An Imera surgeon-coroner who goes by the name of Leides. I'll keep that in mind. Bet he'll love hearing the news about his son," he finished cheerfully, eyes gleaming with badly concealed malice. "Maybe he'll even want me to find you again to relay some message. What do you think, Archer?"


@adrien
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