Private Omerta

[Nai]

Omerta.

An Italian word referring to the code of silence that mafiosos abided to when apprehended and interrogated by the cops. A code of honor, but also a law written in the blood of the traitors.

It was...a unique choice, to use that as the title of a film set in 20th century Hong Kong, when the city still had a raw, beating heart, one that bled with rambunctious tenacity the cold blood of gangsters and entrepreneurs. Certainly, there was no silence to be found during that time, especially amongst the disenfranchised youth. Which made it even more curious why Aurora herself had been scouted out by the eccentric Wei Kao-Tuo for a main role. She had some social media presence, of course, with an Instagram that she took moody photos of the urban landscape with, and a Tiktok that she scrolled through on sleepless nights, but otherwise, how on earth did the man come across, and then choose her?

Her boss, of course, had a laugh about it, and Aurora herself, after some consideration, decided that a working holiday may have been in order after all. There was no process being made on the Terrasphere case, and the private investigator was running into a dry season for work as well. So three months it was, three months being fussed over by makeup artists and costume designers, three months waking up at erratic times to film scenes or go over her lines, and three months of interacting with her co-stars, a Korean pop star (understandable) and an American university student (what the fuck), all for the purpose of becoming the role of...

A high-energy Japanese gyaru with a katana. For the chambara flavor, that eccentric claimed.

Perhaps she was cast simply for her hair color?

Despite her grievances though, it was nice to get some monetary benefit out of her training, and her bank account certainly looked a lot more plump than it was a few months back. Her co-stars were friendly enough as well, possessing little of the ego that may have been expected out of a pop star and an American, and though much of it seemed more like a historical relic than anything else, there was something admirable about Wei Kao-Tuo's insistence on using as few special effects as possible. Maybe it was a bit crazy that he also insisted on using as few stunt doubles as possible too; he must've been a Jackie Chan fan.

Still, it was the end of fall, going into winter. The theater was packed with ardent fans and film industry insiders. Kao-Tuo was already launching into one of his vaguely-hipstery speeches at the front, and Aurora was enjoying the feel of the new overcoat she bought. With any luck, there would be no need for the no-name actresses he hired to step up after the screening ended to give a candid interview. So she settled into the plush seats, poured some home-brewed tea out of the thermos she snuck in, and took a sip out of the paper cup.

Ceramic would have been better, but that was being optimistic.

"Ah," she said, turning to the woman sitting to her right. "Would you like some tea as well?"

The lights had yet to dim. There was some time yet to be courteous.

 

[Lune]

After the cancellation (postponement, actually) of her next album, it was nice to have at least a secondary income. Dayeon would expect to be cast in a k-drama, preferably a high-school romance. Instead, she was offered a role in a Hong Kong action flick, and it's not even a fan-servicey cameo; the role of one of the three main characters was offered to her. The brunette was gonna ask what was in the thought process of the director, casting a korean idol for a Hong Kong movie, but then she realized it was Wei Kao-Tuo.

Okay, that didn't explain anything. But let's just say that he's eccentric; a man of many ideas. Mostly good, maybe.

It doesn't help the whole situation that she doesn't speak his language and didn't have prior experience in martial arts either. But her expertise in dancing certainly helped during most of the action choreographies they shot. Wei Kao-Tuo wanted the experience to feel authentic, so he brought in experts to train her in kempo and wing-chun in under three months. The result? She felt really badass doing that...

One gun-fu scene as the soft-spoken, gun-toting immigrant girl.

What a ride.

At least she made new friends in the form of her co-stars. two people who didn't even work in the entertainment business. Was Wei Kao-Tuo just randomly sliding into DMs to cast people? Anyway, she found Aurora (@Nai), one of her co-stars already sitting inside the theatre, waiting for the first screening to start while sipping tea.

"You snuck in a tea?" She asked in amazement while chuckling, before accepting an offer. "Yes, I would like some tea."

Dayeon rested on her seat nervously. Her whole idol career was an act, but acting in a movie is a whole different beast. The critics in the front-row seat will probably chew on her performance after getting out of the theatre.

For now, let's just sit back and enjoy the final product.

 

[Ludmilla Orphys]

If Aurora was confused, then Brie had not the faintest possible idea how in the world Wei Kao-Tuo had found his way to digging them out of their peaceful end-of-year break. For all intents and purposes, Brie was quite literally a needle in a...a needle factory of American transfer students to Australia, which had a sizable part-Asian international student population in the first place.

When first contact was made, Brie had dismissed the email as some kind of phishing scam at best or weird practical joke at worst, considering that the last unit they had covered in their most recent course at university touched upon the auteur's intriguing yet enigmatic methodologies.
Now, Brie was someone whose aversion towards social media rendered them nearly deaf to most celebrity news that others would know by instinct, even those in whom they were genuinely interested in - for example, Wei Kao-Tuo. How likely was it that, in tandem with that fact, the very subject whose filmography Brie had just studied would find their email address at such a time, just as he was filming a new action flick? Not very, that's how.

So imagine, if you will, Brie's shock and surprise as a physical pen-and-paper letter appeared in their mailbox a week later, an almost frothing roommate pressing it into their hands and claiming it was from none other than Wei Kao-Tuo. Inside was a curt and slightly miffed final offer that Brie wasn't even aware was ticking down urgently; should they forego their university break to act as one of the three lead roles in the Wei's latest film, Omerta, they would be provided fully paid-for room, board and martial arts training (???) onsite while filming took place.

The improbability of the situation was beyond contrived at this point, so Brie decided to suppress their overwhelming excitement to treat it seriously, in case it wasn't some kind of mass hysteria that was afflicting literally everyone they consulted about the letter and offer. No, according to every source Brie asked, Wei Kao-Tuo was apparently just that way, willing to pull some random nobody half a hemisphere away to star in a film that they only knew the name of.

After arranging everything with their similarly thrilled roommate in exchange for a promise of divulging everything about the filming process once they got back home, Brie packed their bags and was promptly zipped across the globe to meet their co-stars. Jittery with jet-lag and trepidation as they prepared to meet director Wei in the flesh, nothing could have prepared Brie for the discovery that the first day of this holiday would also be their least soul-crushing one.

Wing Chun. Muay Thai. Krav Maga. Stiletto fighting. A little tai-chi and bagua-quan thrown in for good measure.
Brie suddenly found their days utter packed with a strict regimen of at least three different disciplines at once, with hardly time for rest and scarfing down meals inbetween each one.
The routine was strangely comforting in a way, and learning about the system of Wude was fascinating too. Even so, were it not for the catharsis of putting each set of painstakingly drilled moves into action on the set where Wei insisted on absolutely no stunt doubles, Brie wasn't sure if they would have even continued on past the first month. Yes, it did feel nice to metabolise the results of going from zero to a hundred in mere weeks, as the tritagonist threat...

"...the budding stiletto assassin only known as 'Lavender' [薰衣草; Xūnyīcǎo], whose motives are unknown to all but themselves as they go on to wreak havoc in the Kowloon underworld with their lethal training in disguise, subterfuge and bloodshed."

It was supposed to be commentary on something. Brie was well and truly out of their depth here, ready to admit that they weren't much for puzzling over it between the constant screaming of their muscles and shortness of breath.

-

So it was a sore and sagging Brie that now pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose, sitting snugly level with the eyebags they had curated over the exhaustive training period.

Looking a bit disheveled as they made their way as quietly as possible towards their two co-stars, Brie was once again led to wonder why Wei had chosen such an eclectic selection of leads.
But all they had the energy to say, licking their parched lips none too subtly, was;

...hey. Am I late?

@Moonsong @Nai

 

[Nai]

"You're fine," Aurora murmured back. "They'll be starting soon."

She poured out another small cup of tea, handing it over to her Australian co-star. It always did well to be prepared, and cups were quite portable when they were also stackable. Whatever conversation that could be held, however, was soon displaced by Director Wei's gratitudes towards the staff, and his promise of yet another winner of a film.

Aurora nodded at her co-stars, raised her own cup of tea in a show of a toast, before taking a long sip. Mild but bitter, just ten degrees above lukewarm. A comforting flavor to complement the highs and lows of this martial arts flick. And as the lights dimmed alongside the murmurs of the illustrious audience, three yet-fameless women watched the screen flicker white, crackling with the simulated static of an old projector, before counting down.

Three. Two. One.

And thus, it begins.

INT. Kowloon Hospital, Intensive Care Unit - Day

It beeped in long intervals without a rhythm. The beat of a heart, incrementally slowing with the passing of time, the falling of rain. A sterile room, an isolated room. Private, for the comfort of the patient, but devoid of any decoration to brighten up the white-tiled space. She laid there, a woman whose blankets hid the full extent of her injuries. Webs of intravenous lines slipped out, and a mechanical ventilator heaved for her, hissing with the weight of the world's sighs. It had been expensive, simply to prolong her life, simply to afford a room of her own.​

​

The doctor said she'd last a week. Had told the three of them to get her affairs settled before then. The hospital morgue had no more space, and crematoriums had been auctioning off appointments for the last few years.​

​

It was Kowloon after all, a world shoved into a mere region of a city. Buildings stacked upon buildings as its residents stacked blood debts upon blood debts. Even the thickest doors in the hospital could not silence the sound of stretchers going back and forth. Another life to be fought for, another dream turned to naught. Outside, the sun never broke beyond the clouds. Only at night did the skies clear, stars like the diamonds that the gangsters traded with for blades and drugs, the brilliant moon worth nothing more than a one yuan coin.​

​

The doctor said she'd last a week. But the brunette (@Moonsong) who sat by that patient, staring into those glassy eyes, reading those bloodless lips, knew that she'd pass when the rain ended.​

​

They all knew. The three of them were residents of Kowloon too, having been stained by the town's vices, having dealt deeply with death and departure.​

​

That was why only she was there, watching her pass.​

​

How did it come to this?​

 

[Lune]

INT. Kowloon Hospital, Intensive Care Unit - Day

How much time left does she have left? A week? A day? Doesn't matter. The woman will pass, and the brunette had no one but herself. Lips trembling, her teeth rattled in rhythm with the hospital room clock, before the girl finally broke down in tears.

---

Kowloon, Three days ago

Calling it the city of crime was an understatement, as the walled enclave was simply a ticking time bomb for them, the inhabitants of Kowloon, ready to swallow them whole.

People only knew her as Night Butterfly [夜蝶: Yè dié], as she was always seen in alleyways during the night, particularly around the red light district.

The last raid was so long ago, that this prostitution-ridden area became a safe haven for people like her, whose lives were dictated by the crime. Around here, the people were like family. They gave the young immigrant place to stay. But they're also her worst enemies that will quickly cast her off with just a single misstep.

It's eaten or be eaten, and she knew that well. And that's why the brunette planned this thing; her big break that would carve her name permanently in the underworld. Shame that didn't go too well, as the woman is now running through the night rain illuminated by street lights, her coat already drenched, people wielding knives following behind her trail.

What was it this time? Pissed off the wrong guy? She knew she had royally fucked up when all the doors around her were shut tight.

Cornered in an alley, the Night Butterfly couldn't see a way out of this. Her shaking right hand slowly slipped into the inside of her weighty coat, reaching for the pistol that she hoped she would never use.

Someone, somebody...

@Nai | @Ludmilla Orphys

 

[Ludmilla Orphys]

天知，地知，人知，我知​

As gunmetal shines matte under uneven lamplight, the flashing of long blades and several peering barrels of smuggled revolvers follow behind eagerly, led by the glint of a pointed stiletto.

Moving through the streets with a united purpose, the coat-clad 49ers who swarmed the dark streets heeded the beck and call of none other than the mercenary assassin Lavender, whose stiletto-points and uncanny knowledge of certain soft spots in human anatomy had earned them a well-deserved name as one of the coldest contract killers in the business.

Mind you, such business wasn't exactly slow in Kowloon. Anyone and everyone could easily pronounce someone else dead at the drop of a hat, provided they had the influence and money for such services, and certain people seemed to always have death notices sticking to them like flies on a clod of shit. Lavender waded through that shit every day. The shit-and-blood mortar that held the bricks of Kowloon together.

The Night Butterfly was well deserving of her name. She had also earned that title as she fluttered infuriatingly out of reach every time the net and claws of whatever triads she'd inconvenienced one times too many threatened to rend her silken wings. Today, however, someone had finally gotten it into their heads to send the nectar...to the butterfly.

Although, wasn't it more like a Venus flytrap that had been set on her?

"We have her cornered. This is going to be easy work."
"Mmh."

As the blind tangle of alleyways draws to a impassable cul-de-sac, doors around the fleeing woman remain barred on all sides by the local residents who have no desire to let pry into their homes any of Kowloon's bloodstained fingers. The massed gangsters ready themselves to take positions, hounds ready to rip and tear.

biipbiipbiip-biipbiipbiip

The handler yanks the chain, a solitary tone cutting the white noise of rainfall. Stopping dead in their tracks, Lavender reaches one hand carefully into the breast of their raincoat, shrouded in the harsh half-shade just beyond a streetlamp's cone of light. The downpour is making it hard to see, harder to aim, though the matter of anyone using a gun was apparently drawing to a decisive negative anyway.

Tense seconds pass, valuable time for the Night Butterfly to make her escape. Worried looks and murmurs of frustration follow in her wake, eyes converging on the one whose free hand now clutched a blinking pager. The closeup from their hand to their face reveals sharp hazel eyes beneath a mop of drenched violet hair, keenly watching the retreating shadow of their quarry.

"...leave her.
I'll deal with this one personally."

@Nai @Moonsong

 

[Nai]

INT. Hong Tuo Apartments, Room 444 - Night

Rain fell down in rivets from the windowless apartment building, tracing ancient cracks and fractures as blood traced the vessels of a human body. Concrete made for good sound-proofing, enough so to mask the sheer density of people within, but the stench of human co-habitation remained. Acrid urine and putrid feces, complemented by the evergreen of mosquito coils, invaded the senses with every breath taken, until the very absence of such smell appeared unnatural. For HK$500, you could afford yourself a space inside a suite, crammed with five other day labourers and their individual families, but for immigrants chasing dreams of upwards mobility in one of the most prosperous port cities in the world, five hundred was cheap compared to the future that was sure to come.

The future that would not come. The Walled City opened her arms to all, but one only left Kowloon through death, whether physical or spiritual. Human karma blackened all idealism, and the viscera of gangsters and civilians alike became the organ transplants that kept this insatiable corpse shambling ever forward. Drowned in greed and lust, slinking through alleyways that would never see even a sliver of sky.

But even in the deepest dark, human decency persisted as well.

"Aiyah, Ye-jie, you're soaked!"

Emerald eyes peaked through the gap of a steel-gated door, before swinging open to reveal a young woman in drab loungewear that seemed to only accentuate the sheen of her golden locks. Of all their dozen roommates, only Kirinyaga Kirie seemed to always be present, a Japanese immigrant who favoured Western aesthetics. It was by her work, or perhaps lack of work, that the flat was as tidy as it was, and she still managed to get her own monthly rent squared away regardless...somehow.

It wasn't worthwhile to dwell upon, however, and the woman motioned her brunette friend inside, her gaze flickering past the wanderer's shoulder before closing the door once more. Three heavy-duty locks snapped shut and a towel (more of a rag, in truth), was tossed in the Night Butterfly's direction.

"Forgot your umbrella again? I've a couple beers if you want it."

 

[Lune]

Even when she was in the lowest part of her life, she never resorted to killing. But here she was, pointing a stolen six-shooter gun with a shaking hand toward the group of suited individuals. One person was speaking into a pager before the rest of the group suddenly took a few steps backward. The wind blows coldly, sending shivers all around her body.

Something was coming.

Her heartbeat paced like a war drum during the calm before the storm. It was then the steel gate behind her swung open, and without any hesitation, the Night Butterfly rushed in.

"Kirie—" Ye-jie has not even finished talking before a towel was tossed on her face. The girl did not protest though, as she quickly wiped her damp hair and took off her coat which looked very expensive. "—Those people are different. You're just putting yourself in danger. I-I..."

"...could've sorted it by myself."

There was no window in the apartment room. The brunette couldn't see what was coming toward them, but she knew she shouldn't involve Kirie in her stupid game. After all, she was the only one that was always there for her; maybe because they are both immigrants, the two bonded tightly.

Making her decision, Ye-Jie quickly walked past the blonde, undoing the locks before swinging the door open. Her teeth gritted, looking into the Japanese immigrant's eyes. "I'm not gonna get my friend in my mess." With quick steps, the girl ran back outside into the hard rain, shouting. "I'm here! Come!"

@Nai | @Ludmilla Orphys

 

[Ludmilla Orphys]

天知，地知，人知，我知​

EXT. Kowloon, Tung Ming Lane - Night

The weather only gets harsher. Nobody belabours the point. No questions are asked, the choice of leaving is more than implicit.

For reasons known only to themselves, Lavender stays in the alleyway with eyes locked on the retreating figure of the Night Butterfly, long after the thugs had followed their instructions to clear off. Slinking away to their lairs, thinking of unmade beds on thin frames and meagre but warm meals, their role in the matter is over, for now.

The stilettos swing back, pointed fangs retracting into the recesses of a raincoat sleeve.
Just like that, with the next pan to the flooded gutters, their boots turn and leave soundlessly in the pounding rain.

EXT. Hong Tuo Apartments, Courtyard - Night

The rain continues to mercilessly drench her clothing as the Night Butterfly issues her challenge. Or is it an implicit declaration of her noblesse oblige? To the friend she was shielding, to the one who she knew would come to take her life, to the bloodthirsty city itself?

From the shadows comes a response.

"...the deal has changed."

With that cryptic utterance, the same raincoat-clad figure at the head of the pursuing thugs drops from the balcony of a nearby apartment. Had they broken in, climbed over, or smuggled themselves in with a clever disguise? Knowing who Lavender was, it could have been any of those three.

Either way, it was unusual for them to have taken so long. Even a fool's intuition could tell, from their confident gait and seemingly unarmed, open stance that this was merely a cats' entrée, playing with one's food to tenderise it. But who could say whether Lavender enjoyed such tactics, or whether they simply chose to do so to back their image?

"We will find you wherever you go. 'Heavens know, earth knows, humans know'..."

The invoking of the heavenly-earthly-humane trifecta made it clear who was behind this hit; so this must be to send a message or else some inscrutable cover-up. The Night Butterfly should have known better than to step from the room bearing a ill-fated number thrice over.

Revealing this at the a point between caution and exhaustion where one would normally draw their stance and get ready to brawl, Lavender instead took a casual step forwards. How could they be so calm, not knowing if their opponent still held a live firearm?

"...and I know. I know that if you hand over the one in there-"

A flash of steel, folded and sharpened to a needle-fine point, shimmers in the streetlamp glow. Pointing right at the Night Butterfly is perhaps the very definition of bad news.

"-all this could end. Right now."

@Nai @Moonsong

 

[Nai]

EXT. Hong Tuo Apartments, Courtyard - Night
And as Lavender's words hung in the air, the oddities of the night had become clear.

A big break, slipped to a fameless wanderer of the night? One so great that they'd have become forever known, if only they succeeded. And yet, the price of such knowledge was well beyond what the Night Butterfly could afford. So to have come across it for free? Heaven was merciful, but even that was a reach too far.

A botched mission. A harried pursuit. Corralled, like a lost lamb.

To the Hong Tuo Apartments. To Room 444.

To a woman who always stayed.

…

She was kind, Ye-jie. For all that she styled herself as, for the meager reputation for clandestine work she made for herself, hers was the soul that Kowloon ate with relish, sucking even the marrow out of the bones. In a city of darkness, there laid no space for such things as friendship. The yakuza may offer oaths of brotherhood, and the mafia may make claims of the importance of the Familia, but for the gangs that stalked alleyways of perpetual midnight? It was, by nature, a falsehood.

And so, when such a diamond was dug out from entrails and gristle, viscera and melancholy, it was a precious thing indeed.

The rain continued to fall, tracing the spine of the assassin's needle, dripping off the barrel of the wanderer's gun. Drop by drop. Splattering against the concrete, slipping off concrete steps, into the void of space that laid within the staircase.

Click clack.

She was a splash of color against the drab darkness. She was a speck of light upon the fourth level. She was above the concerns of the heavens and the earth, eyes gazing down upon those who stomped upon the mud-patch of a courtyard.

"Ahaha." Her laugh was cheerful and bright, at odds with the mounting tension, the clear hostility in the eyes of the goons. "Ye-jie, you should've mentioned that you were bringing guests over! The flat's way too messy for me to let any gentlemen in, sadly, but that lavender-haired seamstress can still enter."

The woman herself disappeared, leaving but a voice free of worries, a voice like church bells.

"So please, come on up. A friend of Mr. Zhong is certainly a friend of mine. Unless, Miss Lavender, it's his brother who has taken over your company?"

 

[Lune]

Heavens know, earth knows, humans know.

"I know that if you hand over the one in there, all this could end. Right now."

The lavender-haired shadow walked forwards, and a glint of their weapon reflected from the nearby streetlight caused Ye-Jie to flinch. There wasn't any hesitation in the eyes of the drenched assassin, contrasting with the Night Butterfly's shaking hands. They were worlds apart, and she was nothing but a lamb to the slaughter.

They say to never point your gun at someone unless you were ready to kill, but this was never about clipping a butterfly's wings. If it's for Kirie, one pull of the trigger is nothing compared to the favor she owed to the other immigrant.

"Ahaha. Ye-jie, you should've mentioned that you were bringing guests over!"

The Butterfly instinctively looked up to the source of the laugh. Her teeth gritted at the idea of bringing this assassin up to the fourth floor. Has Kirie anticipated this unwelcome visit, by any chance?

Lowering the rusty barrel of the six-shooter, Ye-Jie sighed before nodding to gesture to this Lavender person. Pair of dark eyes still trained on the assassin as they made climbed the stairs of Hong Tuo Apartments, every step leaving a mud trail that might have been her blood if the immigrant didn't intervene.

Room 444.

She knocked with her knuckles in a slow rhythm, still uneasy about bringing the other person into the room. At this point, the wanderer pondered if she should be here or not, standing in the bleak cold corridor of Hong Tuo Apartments waiting for answers. Biting the inside of her cheeks, she called out.

"Kirie, it's me."

@Nai | @Ludmilla Orphys

 

[Ludmilla Orphys]

天知，地知，人知，我知​

There was another.

From below, the camera at Lavender's heel captures the unexpected entrance with all its gravitas. Carnage, as it would seem, had been averted. The cost, however, remained to be seen. Though their expression changed not, Lavender's chin dipped ever so slightly to acknowledge the unmistakeable Kirinyaga Kirie.

Identifying targets on sight was an elementary skill. Even without her audacious words that seemed to draw the air itself taut, Lavender instantly recognised their mark. Try as one might to hide, the eyes and ears of the triads grew through guards and wards. Time was the only scant advantage one might have when the pursuit began in the walled city, and Kirinyaga had thrown that away. For what?

Already the stiletto folded backwards in Lavender's sleeves ached to be unveiled, as much as the ever-parched city demanded blood. The 'guests', knowing they had overstayed their welcome, took the hint well enough, disappearing while scowling and bristling into winding walkways, behind dark corners and closed doors. Twice thwarted this evening; what next?

No answer would be forthcoming of standing in the rain. Lavender did not respond to the Night Butterfly - 'Ye-jie' - but only followed, cold gaze fixed right back with no more or less hostility than before. Their attentions had shifted, and this liability was now only a formality between them and their mark.

Stopping wordlessly within arm's reach of this Ye-jie, the assassin waited, watched and listened as she rapped on the door. At this distance...yes. No less than fourteen vital points where a sharpened point could piece and kill; 'easy death' indeed. People were always quick to close doors behind them here, and for good reason.

Someone unwanted was always looking for the moment to slip right in.

@Nai @Moonsong

 

[Nai]

INT. Hong Tuo Apartments, Room 444 - Night

The door opened. It had not been locked, nor even closed fully to begin with. Ye-jie's knocking was enough to swing the flimsy door open.

But of course it would. She was not so classless to feign invitations while beating a hurried retreat. And thus, Room 444 opened for the second time that night, the smells of a proper home wafting out from the frame. Incandescent light spilled out with a heady amber, while a coil of mosquito repellent smouldered in the corner. The belongings of a dozen people, now all absent, were lined up in as orderly a fashion as one may expect it to be in the Walled City: folded and stacked, but with no wardrobes or cabinets to slot them in outside of cheap cardboard boxes clearly labeled with permanent marker. A threadbare curtain, perhaps plucked from another suite, served as a table cloth where an electric kettle buzzed away, its contents gurgling.

Such were perfunctory details though, compared to the woman standing before the table. She shook some roasted tea leaves into a teapot and set aside three cups, then filled the pot with water. Steam rose, as did the fragrance of the leaves. It was a cheap affair, performed in an eloquent fashion. And that eloquence as well contrasted with her appearance, loungewear patched up with cartoon-y animals, plastic bracelets sparkling with equally-plastic gems.

"Sit down, sit down," she gestured, pouring tea for her guests. The chairs had no backs. Even if they did, those backs could be removed to make more chairs. "For the second time this evening, I must say, Ye-jie. You're soaked!"

Kirie laughed, a laugh like champagne toasts.

"And Lavender, it's been far too long! You're so much thinner now! How's it going, ah? Figured out the secrets behind getting a boyfriend yet, or do you need more tips and tricks from yours truly?"

 

[Lune]

The door slowly drifted, not even closed since she last left the room just minutes ago. Should have expected that with how she could smell the scent of burning smoke repellant.

"We're coming in," Ye-jie announced regardless as she pushed the door to come in with Lavender, the person that she did not like the gaze at all; the gaze of a natural cold-blooded killer, unreadable as the ocean. One wrong muscle to tense and she might fall victim to the one behind her.

A pot of steaming tea was already prepared by the other immigrant as they walked in, who told both of them to sit down. With the assassin? What was truly going on here? She abided, sitting down as a cup tea was poured for her. A cheap tea, but she had never really tasted any difference anyway.

"For the second time this evening, I must say, Ye-jie. You're soaked!"

The butterfly sighed at Kirie's laid-back jokes, realizing that she left the coat there before going out to confront the men. Thankfully the tea helped with the chilling cold of the rainy night. Listening to the conversation, the girl put down the cup a little bit too hard, to pull the attention to her.

"... Any of you going to tell me what this was about?" She asked, eyes sharp gazing back at forth at the other two.

Yeah, this was definitely not about her. But what exactly the circumstance that led her to sip tea in this death trap of an apartment with her friend and an assassin of an unknown syndicate? And they both apparently knew each other?

@Nai | @Ludmilla Orphys

 

[Ludmilla Orphys]

天知，地知，人知，我知​

Making sure to keep enough of their body behind the Night Butterfly that a bullet would be less likely to hit their vitals through hers, should it be fired from the room beyond, Lavender nonetheless kept their field of view so aligned that they could see over her shoulder and into the environs; more importantly, so they could keep Kirinyaga in sight at all times.

Driftwood-brown eyes ricochet around the room like frantic pinballs as the assassin takes in every little detail, everywhere hidden reinforcements may spring from or where a covert trap may be set. Even as they sat down, vetting the bareness of the room as safe, Lavender's hands never left their tensely held positions, each movement calculated in slow motion yet flowing languidly like the coiling pyrethrum-infused smoke that suffused the air. The fangs tucked into those sleeves were still ready to bite as soon as the time was right.

The tea so generously made, an ironic echo of the hollow decor held in such high regard by all who aspired to the candle casting its shadow, was simply ignored.

Reacting with precisely zero interest in the expatriate's jibes and jabs, Lavender scrutinises Kirie from across the table, a distance that the panning shot from behind them widens to almost an impossibly wide gulf. Yet their icy words reach everyone in the room loud and clear; laconic, mysterious and above all, ominously threatening.

"We are under new management. HR doesn't want loose ends, and I've come to deliver a letter of dismissal."

Despite this, of course, they made no move to deliver any letter. Clearly, whatever documents they may have had on their person would have been ruined by the rain by this point in time. The rainwater dripping all over the floor in little rivulets, reflecting the tense scene unfolding at the table, was evidence enough.

"The company has offered you egress from Kowloon. Expenses paid conditionally."

That condition is, all of them understood, if Kirinyaga were in a nice corporate-sponsored casket. Nobody was a fool, least of all Lavender, whose old wounds ached in vilified silence beneath their soaked clothing.

@Nai @Moonsong