<strong>Atayo City</strong><br/><br/><em>Once more into the ornately carved, oak and iron furnished, creepy smelling chamber, my friends.</em><br/><br/>Rufio didn't pause on his questionable poetry as he was less than politely goaded into said room by his lovely colleague, Nyte. This wasn't new. This was just the Tuesday meeting, except...on a Friday.<br/><br/>He nodded at all the familiar faces sat around the obscenely large heavy wooden table they sat around. There was Jimmy the Raven, a coal-skinned youth with a penchant for knives, feathers sprouting unreasonably from his scalp. Halfwit Harvey, who everyone said was actually the brother of a twin, but no one ever saw two of them in the same room, was attempting to summon a pen to the table, and failing. Juno the Third, named apparantly not because she was the third Juno in her family, but because she was a third-part demon, a fact she liked to remind her snickering colleagues by occaisionally carving "J3" into forearms and foreheads. Barry sat, or as Rufio liked to think, the ground supported Barry for the sake of everybody else in the immediate vicinity. Barry was a minotaur. Barry was...big. Rufio had once seen him swallow a human head whole<em>and actually belch an eyeball.</em><br/><br/>"Legs" Lawkin, Paula the Probe...nearly every name in the Brimstone Burger Cartel was present and correct.<br/><br/><em>Huh. This is no Tuesday meeting pep talk. </em><br/><br/>Rufio took his seat (heavy, oaken) and stretched out his legs, nodding at Juno, who nodded back, and Barry, who didn't.<br/><br/>With a crackling whisper, the being at the head of the table made his presence known. Rufio rolled his eyes as he prepared himself once more. Slowly, tiny dark particles materialised seemingly from out of nowhere and were sucked towards the huge chair, gathering mass and a dark,throbbing circular shape.<br/><br/><em>Can't resist, can he?</em><br/><br/>Finally, with an audible<em>crack</em>, the head of the Brimstone Burger Cartel made his full entrance into the underground chamber. Small, orange burning eye-shaped holes appeared in an otherwise indistinguishable dark crackling mass, and, for reasons no one knew why, the dark mass was smoking a cigar.<br/><br/>It spoke, in a snarling, heavily accented drawl.<br/><br/>"Good day, my loyal worker beeess."<br/><br/>As one, the rest of the sentients present gave the traditional reply.<br/><br/>"Good day, Boss."<br/><br/>Rufio couldn't help sluice a sarcastic high-pitched tone into his reply, thankfully covered by the chanting of the others, Barry's incredible gravelly monotone helping block Rufio's voice completely. Dangerous, he knew from experience mocking the Bossman in front of his peers, but he couldn't help it.<br/><br/><em>We've got the Oligarchy sweeping valuable half breeds right from under our very noses, and our glorious leader is still hung up on dramatics. Ye gods.</em>