Yo so this prologue is just some cryptic ahh shi so you can skip it if you want
Among all the misfortunes in the world, the greatest misfortune is being unaware of one's misfortune.
The dew of life, crimson ichor, seeped from his lifeless body, recently deceased. The putrid smell of iron and fetid flesh clung to the room and its closed grey curtains. Red liquid dripped from his flung-over arms, which were gripping a pistol, its muzzle still smoking. Lights flickered, casting hollow shadows that loomed over the area. Scattered throughout the room were documents, folders, beer bottles, and clippings of discarded news articles, littering the floor. A rotating ceiling fan hung on the ceiling, its low humming adding to the unsettling atmosphere.
Then, suddenly, a ringing sound could be heard from an analog telephone, its black hue and golden trimmings elevating its status of elegance. Although it has chipped paint and rusted edges, you can tell it has withstood the test of time. The ringing stopped as a distorted voice came from the speakers.
"Michael, you there, Michael? Ah, this one's going to be in voicemail, isn't it?" The voice spoke in a tone of uncertainty. With a huff, he continued. "Anyways, you haven't made any payments yet, soooo, yeah, we need to change that. They're getting impatient, so chalk up some cash. And lastly, don't get too hung up over her, man. It's been a year and there's still no leads. Past stays in the past, y'know? Abel, out." Just as suddenly, the voice disappeared, returning the room to eerie stillness.
Puff. The man on the other end of the phone, Abel, lets out a cloud of smoke from his half-smoked cigarette.
His posture, lax and carefree, with him leaning on a slightly bruised polished ebony coffee table, a cigarette in his right hand, and a mug of coffee on the other, still steaming. His golden brown eyes were dull as he stared at the pot of dark brown liquid. The well-built man then gazes at the telephone on the table, eyes filled with confusion. He puts out his cig on a nearby iron ashtray, the stick letting out a sizzling sound as its embers dim.
With a sigh, he runs his brown hand over his black hair, voice trembling. "Hope you're still doing okay." He murmured under his breath. With that, he trudged out of the room, stopping at the walnut door.
Turning his head back to the door, he lingered for a moment, then, with a shake of his head, he turned and closed the door for good. The moon reflected a kaleidoscope of colors on the stained glass window, illuminating the empty chamber. Dazzling motes of light fell from the glass, dancing rhythmically to the soothing sounds of the night, filling the room with a mysterious aura.
_____ I am the dividing line that shifts perspectives_____
"October 25, 1562, Jekyl Calendar, at approximately 9:47 hrs, a concerned neighbor reported the suicide of Michael B. Doorman after they had not seen the subject leave their house in 3 days. The neighbor also reported smelling a foul odor. "Smelled like rotten eggs and dead mice." Described the neighbor.
Responding officers [Ofc. Barrel S. Lockman #IDO 3256 and Ofc. Garen D. Paint #IDO 3613] arrived on scene, approx. 10:03 hrs, met the reporting party outside the victim's door. No response was received after repeated knocks and verbal announcements. Officers obtained access through a master key provided by dormitory maintenance.
Upon entry, officers noted the immediate presence of an advanced decomposition odor. Victim, identified as Michael B. Doorman, was located seated against the far wall of the main living space, slumped over to the right. A Rutger's SS750 Standard firearm was observed in the victim's right hand, muzzle orie-Okay, so this looks like a suicide. What'cha want us to investigate?" A man in his early thirties asked a question after reading the case file. Though his expression was hidden due to the dim lights of the room, his voice mirrored his face: confused.
His partner, a male who could be mistaken for a girl if not for his Adam's Apple, was also equally puzzled hearing it. "If not for the pay, we wouldn't even have picked up this case in the first place." With a nod, his partner agreed too. "Yeah, we found some leads that may or may not be connected to this case. If you go to the third page, you can see what I'm talking about." The rugged officer sitting on the opposite side of the mahogany table picked up the document and responded. "There's been an enormous amount of coincidences in this case. Like I informed you on the phone call, there's been a total of seven different incidents like this that have the same circumstances. One, they all have debtors that are related to Wolfgang Co., and their rates are extremely high. Two, they've been shunned at their workplaces and communities, almost like they're being targeted. And lastly, they've all interacted with Lathell."
With the mention of that name, both of them froze stiff for a moment and then slowly looked at the man. "Ya' mean that drunk? What's that brat got to do with this case? I remember a while ago, me and Yuan ova' ere' were in a bar, and this lil' cum stai-"
"Senior Vertin, please keep your voice down; we do not want to disturb the others." Just as the man was about to get heated, his partner roughly ushered him back to his seat, causing him to stumble. Meanwhile, the officer sat opposite them, let out a small chuckle at the man's behavior. "Looks like you both had an unpleasant encounter with that boy. But yes, it's indeed him, the supposed heir to the Caileid Duchy." When that sentence was uttered out of the man's mouth, the room fell into a tense silence. Both parties looked at each other for what felt like eternity until the senior of the duo let out a snort. "Listen here, Barrel, we don't do dealings involving the upper class, you know that, right?"
Barrel shook his head. "My informant didn't say anything about this." Vertin just let a playful smile curl onto his lips. "Well, most of our clients don't put hits on them big guys, so we don't really have to, y'know?" The man gestured with his hands, trying to convey his meaning. "If I may say so, Mr. Barrel, I would like to recommend you to another company." With a sudden rise from his seat, Yuan proposed a solution.
"Oh? Ya' talkin' bout em? Boss has some beef with their director, right?" Vertin inquired. "Indeed, several of our commissioners were poached by him; we've had run-ins with several of their members during commissions, and we lost an Emperor Rank Armament to him in a recent auction." With a nod, Yuan satiated his senior's curiosity.
"Oh yeah, I remember that! Boss was fuckin' fumin' in them stands, his mug was so red I thought he was bout to shit his pants! Lol lol." Snapping his fingers, Vertin burst out of his chair laughing like a madman, wheezing as he started to cough due to his laugh.
"So, which company are you both talking about?" Barrel asked with curiosity. As Vertin was being helped up by his junior, he turned his head and directly looked at Barrel Sibold Lockman. With a grin, he said the name.
"Daydreamers"
"Senior, it's Ashterhall Corp. now"
"Oh yeah my bad"
_____I am the dividing line that shifts perspectives_____
Thud. A heavy metal object fell from a coffee table, its low and sudden sound perked up the two hooded individuals in the room, with the furry ears of the black haired boy twitching at it, while the blonde man simply glanced at the fallen object. "Isn't that your sigil? Do keep it safe, boy. Wouldn't want that getting lost now, do we? Unlike that day five years ago." The boy merely responded in silence as he got out of his seat and grabbed the item. The circular object was a medallion with gold and silver trimmings on the edge, with fleur de lys marking the middle of the medal, while the sides of it were emblazoned with laurel leaves and the Greek letter Delta. He clutched it, veins forming on his arms as he turned his head to that ever-smiling face.
"Shut your mouth, fox. You're lucky the Bishop ordered me not to end you, bastard." The boy responded to his earlier words with a snarl, his face contorting due to hate. His neon green eyes were rapidly switching between green and crimson red. The saw-like teeth on his mouth rattled as he clenched his jaws tight. His other hand, brown, slipped into his robes, clutching a hidden dagger.
But the blonde ignored the threats and continued to mock him. "How frightening! Dog, do keep your temper in check; otherwise, I might have to put you down in place of the Bishop, even though I don't want to stain my hands with your filthy beastkin blood."
The dark-haired boy merely spat at the floor, then went ahead and headed for the exit. "I'm going out to prepare, don't annoy me with your yapping unless it's important." He grabbed the side of the doorframe and spoke to him without glancing back. But before he could go out, he was stopped by the blonde's voice. "Before you go, do hand me the key to the archives. You have it, yes?"
The boy remained silent for a second before his hand went into his robes' pockets, grabbing the key. "Suit yourself." With that, he tossed the key to him and walked out of the room, leaving the robed figure in solitude. "Hmm, when and where did that mutt learn how to bark at its owner? Arius? No matter, for it is time for me to act." Holding the key to the ceiling, he pondered to himself, his ruby eyes gleaming with cunning.
[Chapter end]
YO BITCHES GO PLAY BROWN DUST 2 THE MC IS BASED FROM THERE (loosely now but cmon)
also this prologue isnt really important its just a preview of some mildly important characters for the early arcs
Word count : 1709