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[ When Talon next checks his phone, he'll find the screen has a faint glowing emblem on it-- the sigil that he's seen on Asmodeus's business card. He can swipe it away and ignore it if he wishes, but if he presses on it a second message will pop up, telling him Asmodeus has returned from his business trip and is available in the office again. Did a secretary write this? It's even polite. It says if he's still interested, there will be a car available behind the alleyway at his convenience. There is no time listed-- after all, it's at his convenience. All he needs to do is accept.

If he just so happened to be watching the alley before doing so, he'll see the air start to shimmer with heat haze despite the winter cold. The shapes in the alley change, shadows reassembling themselves, and a limo idles there waiting to pick him up. The steam that preempted its arrival rises from the engine, running hot beneath the hood of the car.

The windows are tinted dark from the outside, but does he really need to look in first? He knows who sent this car. The driver does not step out to greet him, but a door swings open to allow Talon in. ]

[ He's wary of this whole thing. Is it really Asmodeous? A trap? Something or someone else entirely?

He watches the car for several long minutes, perched high above on the edge of a neighboring roof, before finally coming to a decision and swooping down. There's only one more beat of hesitation before he cautiously steps inside ]

[ Once he steps in, the door swings shut and Tokyo-F is no longer visible out the dim windows. A different city is in view now, one of cramped alleyways-- well, okay, Tokyo-F was too, but these are different cramped alleyways. Ones with a lot more chalk outlines, for instance, and other cars and inhabitants. The limo wends through narrow streets, and there's little else to do but wait out the ride.

Though it looks like there's been some cursory attempts to make certain at making it a pleasant one. They did send a limo. Hell apparently doesn't care that Talon is underage, since there's a bar in the limo across from the low leather couch-seats of the interior. Speakers are set around the roof of the limo for surround sound, playing jazz that might sound familiar to him from short prior jaunts to vengeance hell, even if he doesn't know this exact piece.

When the vehicle stops the door swings open again, to let him out in front of an unfamiliar office building. ]

[ He definitely eyes the bar, but he won't be trying any. He's pretty sure he's taking enough risk just coming down here in the first place.

As he steps out, he glances up and down the street to see if anything around looks familiar. Whatever the case is, he doesn't linger much longer than that before heading inside ]

[ It looks familiar enough, as in, it looks like the rest of vengeance hell. Buildings tall enough to be intimidating without being grand, fixed facades that wear away to look damaged when you stare at them too long like the way stars fade from view when you stare directly at them... it's vengeance hell. You haven't seen this particular building before, though.

It's an office building looks like it exited a film noir-- architecture belonging somewhere inner-city America, circa the 1930s. The furniture is black and white, and while this building doesn't appear to have incurred much damage on the inside, there's a jitteriness to quality of reality down here, like the noise on old movie reels. Entering takes you by a receptionist's desk-- human, probably, they've got those rewinding and unwinding wounds you see on the damned around here-- and even if you don't talk to them there's a directory besides the elevator cage. Some of the floors are dedicated to surprisingly mundane things: accounting, intake forms, border travel applications and processing; while others are what you would expect-- offices of reprisals, unavenged wrongs, grudge preservation. And, at the top floor, Office of the Prince.

There's a row of silver gleaming elevator buttons, and you can tell which ones have been pressed, as they light up gold. The elevator is currently on the sixth floor, coming down. ]

Edited 2021-02-18 02:54 (UTC)

[ Given the promptness of the car, it's not a hard thing to guess that whoever called him must be coming down to meet him now. He spares a curious glance at the receptionist, but paces toward the elevator to wait for its arrival ]

[ The antique accordion grate folds to allow you entrance, before closing back up and the elevator operator takes one look at you and presses the button for the top floor. You are escorted past a secretary's desk (with a person so non-descript as to be indescribable-- is that really a person? You don't see any distinctive wounds…) into Asmodeus's office. He's leaning back in a leather office chair, positioned sideways so he can see you enter through the door but without putting his back to the window. In his hands he has what appears to be an overly elaborate rubiks… octohedron? that he was examining. He puts it on the desk, front and center, as you walk in and are shown to a chair.

The elevator attendant takes his leave and you are left alone with Asmodeus. ]

Very prompt of you.

Edited 2021-02-18 03:04 (UTC)

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