<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Church of  the Lidden Eye, Los Angeles</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Day 001; Late Morning</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Ezio</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><br/>While the coffee was brewing, Ezio could take in the magnificent view of an early LA morning. The sun was up, people all over were in rush, moving fast and noisy, the noises fortunately dulled by the church's powerful walls. A morning like any other, mundane, average. Routine-like. Ezio's life hadn't changed much since he discovered the truth about his parentage. Of course, in some ways it<em>did</em>change, what with the legitimacy of his divine lineage helping in establishing the cult, helping it grow and develop -- as did Silenus' patronage over it and divine guidance. At the same time however not much else changed. His father didn't contact him after his first visitation, there was no more mentioning of the Titans or the world in the Overworld, or anything. Even now, two weeks after his divine visitation by his father, Ezio's life was pretty much the same as it was before. Here he was, in the church that he had established, brewing coffee. And yet, deep inside his head there was this worry, this dark thought, this feeling that today it would all change. That today was going to be big. That today<em>something</em>was going to happen. Perhaps he should consult his divine phallic-shaped capsule to maybe try and confirm these feelings as for what the Fate had in store?<br/><br/>Before he had time to make up his mind, a voice bellowed below. "Mr. Chrysos?" Feminine, strong but melodic and polite even. "Mr. Chrysos?" She repeated. Ezio could hear the echo of the woman's high heels. And then his last night's lover's voice as he probably engaged the newcomer in a conversation. "Oh my." She chuckled. "I suppose Mr. Chrysos must be nearby then. My apologies if I interrupt."<br/><br/>"Oh no, no, no... Miss...?"<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.stephensplasticsurgery.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/30-year-old-woman.jpg)</div><br/>"Parker. Belle Parker." Belle Parker. That name sounded familiar to Ezio's ears. Parker... wasn't that the wife of that cop? The one who wasn't really thrilled that his wife decided to join Ezio's congregation? And who tried to cause trouble to the Cult up until she divorced him and moved away? (Or at least that's what Ezio heard from the other members.) Seems she was back though.<br/><br/>"Mr. Chrysos is upstairs, but I'm unsure if he's accepting visitors at this time, Miss Parker..."<br/><br/>"Oh, dear boy, just call me Belle. I do realize it might not be the best time and I am so sorry for entering even though it says the church is closed so early in the mornings... but I have some... rather unbelievable story to tell him and I'm quite certain he's the only one who can help me with my problem. Have you been long in the cult?"<br/><br/>"Of course, Miss Parker... Belle... I... I'm not one to presume anything. He should be right back. I'm sure he'll see you. And no, I haven't been formally initiated yet. But I feel like this is the real thing. As if I'm finally finding the answer to all my questions about reality, truth, passion, life..."<br/><br/>"...and death?" She chipped in, still in a very jovial tone.<br/><br/>"...that too, I guess." The man replied quite confused.<br/><br/>"Indeed, that's exactly why I have to talk to him."<br/><br/>"You mean... someone's died?" He asked worriedly.<br/><br/>"I fear that someone might be if I don't do anything to stop it."<br/><br/>The coffee was finally ready.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make a (Perception + the number of Prophecy Boons) roll. This is to represent some random insight that might or might not happen to help a Scion with access to a Prophecy Purview. You should also decide whether you want to use Hero's Herald Boon in this story. If so, make appropriate rolls, please. <br/><br/>Please also make (Perception + Empathy) and (Perception + Awareness) rolls.]<br/><br/></em></div></div><br/><div align="center"><strong>***</strong></div><br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td>A shady bar, Los Angeles</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td>Day 001, Late Morning</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td>Mateo</td><td></td></tr></tbody></table><br/>Even though he had been busy the whole night, Mateo didn't feel as tired as he should. The now-awakened divine ichor flowing in his veins changed many rules that controlled his body before. His strength, speed and stamina were all greatly heightened. He could run faster without feeling tired, he could perform inhuman feats of strength, and he barely felt exhaustion -- at least in comparison to a normal man. Hell, he could even<em>heal</em>like some kind of superhero from a comic book. Considering his criminal career, that would certainly come in handy -- not to mention his divine father's pantheon's love and expectations of bloody sacrifices. It might not be a pleasant process as pain was still as real as ever but at least he was bloody hard to kill. And who could say no to that?<br/><br/>The bar was almost empty -- which was no surprise as it was technically closed already. All (or almost all) the clients left a couple of hours ago, some by their own volition, others dragged by their friends (or possibly rivals), and some kicked out by a bouncer for starting fights or other disorderly behaviour. Mateo was one of the few people still in. There was of course Pretty Harry behind the counter -- whose name was an old joke as Harry was anything but pretty. His face was badly scarred after some fight that had gone not the way he had expected. It did wonders on the clients though. Intimidating them so that they think twice before starting anything. There was also the bouncer whom everyone called the Big Guy. His nickname was self-explanatory. One glance at him and everyone knew what it was about. Big was... big. About seven feet tall, built like a tank. Mateo wasn't sure of his real name. He wasn't sure he had ever heard anyone call him anything else apart from just a Big Guy.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/7e/2f/20/7e2f20441df6cad0ab8762856018748f.jpg)</div><br/>Deciding to go home at long last, Mateo stood up and went in the direction of the exit. When he was almost there, he noticed that there was someone else in the bar as well. Someone he had never seen before because he would definitely remember seeing such a pretty face here. The man was young, in his early twenties at most, with a boyish charm and that youngster flash in his green eyes, but at the same time that aura of self-confidence, even arrogance. He was leaning on the wall, observing the bigger man with intensity and a smirk. Wearing worn jeans and a pastel pink t-shirt, he couldn't look more out of place in a bar like this. He raised his eyebrow and run his fingers through his dark brown hair. With a confident swagger, he approached Mateo and gave him a look-over, his eyes fixating on the man's muscles. "You're Mateo, right? The leader, yeah? Looking for fun?" So shameless. His eyes were now looking at something lower, just below the criminal's belt. It all suddenly made sense.<br/><br/>Seeing that, Pretty Harry leaned over the counter, "You better watch out for this one. The boy's like family."<br/><br/>"Yeah, right. Just because you fucked my mother a couple of times ain't mean I'm your family. At least I hope not." The young man chuckled.<br/><br/>"Don't you start now, boy. Don't be disrespecting your mother."<br/><br/>"Whatever. Ain't talking to ya anyway. I'm working. Now why don't you go back to your own work, Pretty, huh?"<br/><br/>"That fuckin' mouth of yours will be your end one day, kid."<br/><br/>The boy snorted in response as Pretty Harry turned around and decided to go back to cleaning the tankards.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make a (Perception + Empathy) roll.]</em><br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>***</strong></div><br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td>Choko's office, Los Angeles</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td>Day 001, Late Morning</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td>Choko</td><td></td></tr></tbody></table><br/>Even at this time of day, when the sun -- or her mother, in a sense, if she were to believe the myths -- was barely risen, the hospital was a place of total chaos. She heard from one of the nurses which passed her by there were some gun shot patients from last night. It was nothing new -- it was LA after all. Gang wars were quite a common occurrence. But Choko was left to wonder if that was indeed the truth of it all. After her visitation and the plot to end her life, she couldn't be so sure. Could it be some trick of the Titans and their earthly minions? Could have these fights been caused by less than natural -- supernatural? -- means? She did not know.<br/><br/>Everyone was in a rush, both workers and patients, especially the former. Fortunately for Choko, she wasn't in the middle of all this havoc. She was a highly sought after psychotherapist, not a trauma surgeon. Her patients had to have scheduled appointments. As she was sitting in her -- very comfortable -- armchair, her phone rang. It was her secretary. "Miss Hidoki!" She heard the woman's high-pitched, slightly too sweet, voice. "Miss Yukiko Akiyama is already here. She seems... distressed. Maybe something has happened to her? Or she's just nervous?" Yukiko Akiyama was the first of Choko's patients for the day. She was diagnosed with a bipolar affective disorder some time ago. The depressive and manic episodes were at times so severe the woman couldn't function properly and had to put her singing career on hold, at least for now. In one of her manic episodes, she even attacked one of her fans at a concert after he commented that she was 'too beautiful to be real'. This event put a dent on her image and the label she was working with decided she needed a time off... and a professional to look after her needs.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.onlinenewspoint.com/wp-content/uploads/Top-10-Most-Beautiful-Japanese-Women-In-2014-Keiko-Kitagawa.jpg)</div><br/>A couple of minutes later, the door to Choko's office opened and Miss Akiyama entered accompanied by the psychotherapist's secretary. The latter bowed and turned away, disappearing shortly, leaving the two alone. The patient seemed nervous. She was sweating profusely, her hands shaking, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Miss Hidoki... I--I'm afraid it's getting worse." She mumbled as she put her hand on her forehead. "I-I'm not crazy, you know that! I just... I just can't stand this... this stress... is all... right? But lately... it's been getting worse. I've began... hearing things. Seeing things.<em>Feeling</em>things... And it's not just dreams anymore... it's all when I'm awake... but it feels like I'm daydreaming. Almost. Except it feels like I'm not. Every night it feels as if the moon is looking at me, watching me. As if shadows had eyes and were watching me too. As if night itself was whispering... things... to me... Is this my imagination? Is this just... stress? It could be, right? But the things it says... they're all in Japanese... Could it just be that I'm... homesick? Yes, that might be it, right? I did specifically ask for you because I had checked your background... I thought it would be... easier to relate to you. But this? This... is not what I had envisioned... I can't stand these constant whispers! Please, please, please, I don't want to lose my mind!" The woman was on the verge of crying.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make a (Perception + Empathy) roll.]</em><br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>***</strong></div><br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td>A street, Los Angeles</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td>Day 001, Late Morning</td><td></td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td>Bennett</td><td></td></tr></tbody></table><br/>Mouse didn't seem happy that he was being left alone in the apartment. Bennett could feel that his pet's need of fun was far from being fulfilled. Despite his size, Mouse behaved like a normal-sized, mundane cat in many ways -- including wanting to be petted and played with whenever a desire struck him. And it struck him often. For example now -- even as Bennett was going out, Mouse looked at him with his cute kitten-like eyes, hoping that he would somehow change his master's plans. "Till noon then." The foo lion roared quietly, disappointed but knowing he had no other choice, he had to accept  it.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.chinawhisper.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Tony-Leung.jpg)</div><br/>As he walking the street, Bennett could take in the alleged beauty of a morning in Los Angeles -- crowds of people almost everywhere he looked, everyone in rush, traffic absolutely everywhere. Among all those different faces he had never seen Ben did notice a face he had come to know -- and with whom he had been working ever since his Visitation two weeks ago. Taking a form of a middle-aged, devilishly handsome man of Chinese ethnicity, wearing an impeccable grey suit, Lü Dongbin, one of the Eight Immortals, was walking in Bennett's direction with his hands in his trousers' pockets and a mysterious smile on his face. The de facto leader of the Eight Immortals, a Tang Dynasty Chinese scholar and poet elevated to the status of an immortal and worshiped especially by the Taoists, took an interest in and a liking to the young Scion after he demonstrated his keen intellect and theoretical understanding of the Chinese mythology. Of course, a lot of facts Bennett thought were not really applicable to the real Celestial Bureaucracy as many changed over time or were twisted by the various retellings and rewritings of these myths.<br/><br/>"Greetings, young one." The man bowed down as a courtesy when he was close enough to talk. "The Celestial Bureaucracy might have need of your services today as it seems the Fate has marked this day as especially Fated... one could even say Fatebound." He chuckled at his own inside joke before continuing. "But perhaps we should talk in a place better suited to a conversation like this. I know a good, private" he stressed the word by prolonging it, "cafe by the corner where we would not be disturbed. They also serve great meatbuns there." He mentioned somehow knowing Bennett's vice and meatbun obsession.<br/><br/>When they arrived, Lü Dongbin nodded to one of the waiters who led the two to a separate room deep in the cafe, with only one table. "<<The usual, please.>>" He ordered in Chinese and smiled. A peculiar kind of fragrance, sweet and almost.... hypnotising, filled the room very quickly. After the waiter departed, the Immortal continued talking, "I have come to you as the Celestial Bureaucracy needs you to assist another agent of the Shen who is currently on a very important mission, closely watched by one of the most distinguished members of the Shen. It was decided that you were in the best position to assist her." The waiter returned with the order. Lü nodded and waved his hand, telling him to leave.<br/><br/>"Tell me... how much do you know about the Qing-Shi?"<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make an (Intelligence + Occult) roll.]</em><br/><br/></div></div>