Ricky found himself out and about.  Marta had convinced him to allow her to stay with Elyse.  Of course, when it came to Marta, Ricky trusted Elyse more than anyone he knew.  Elyse was not only a good person who was rather skilled in her own right, but she also understood Marta in a way he never could.  Ricky smiled as he thought of Marta's last words to him as he dropped her off: Have fun and relax, dork!

She had changed so much in a short time, even if he could still see the darkness of her trauma hit at times.  The change had been even more apparent since she started online school and going to Kallisti everyday.  It was strange that a whole bunch of kids spent their days at the burlesque club, but Elyse ensure him that it was one of the safest places in the city.  Marta had hardly shut up about Sterling since they had met.  It seemed like Marta had truly found a peer who understood and accepted her without a thought.  It was what Marta needed.

Ricky decided to try and heed her advice and found himself in a Moscow bar.  It wasn't run down, nor was it one of the super extravagant Moscow clubs.  It reminded him quite a bit of his bar in Mexico City.  At times, he missed it, but he had made a choice to do what he needed to do for Marta - and he had no regrets on that.  There seemed to be a decent crowd her tonight, but Ricky spent his time alone at the bar, sipping at a beer.  It was a strange thing after so long to be alone and to have a night of no responsibilities and Ricky wasn't sure what to do with it.  He sat with the air of someone who would welcome company, but did not require it, as he slipped his beer, he pulled out his wallet, and used the app to cue up some classic rock on the jukebox, resisting the urge to send Elyse a text to check on Marta.  Marta would be fine, and she was right.  He needed to relax.

Im going to use this thread as a venue to summarize what is happening with the club plot that involves the Yakuza, Syndicate, Cartels, and Mafia. This has been unfolding IC for a while now (ahem-years), and can be a pain to keep up with it. 

Main players

The short of it is Adrian owns various land spaces and buildings around moscow via AK Holdings. He has leased his property to the club owners on 30-year contracts. 

The Yakuza group, the Edenokoji-gumi based in Moscow are building a series of 5 Japanese-style Host and Hostess clubs, which until now are completely new and novel business in Moscow as they generally only exist in Japan. This is the group that Kiyohito has now joined. His brother, Haruto, is part of the plot as well. They will operate any gambling that takes place within the clubs. The theme of each club will feature a Japanese-style wrestling circuit and entertainment.

Zixin will use the Syndicate to orchestrate human trafficking of discovered channelers (usually very weak ones) discovered in Southeast Asia to offer them "work" in the Clubs. They are coerced into going to Moscow on the promise of wealth and independence, but are indentured to remain on site. Security does not allow hosts or hostesses to leave without permission or being followed until they have "paid off their debts", which may have accumulated for any number of reasons. This is very shady stuff. Other non-channeler hosts and hostesses are also 'employed' by the clubs. The is the primary reason Zixin was sent to Moscow from Singapore. 

Previously, the Amengual cartel was going to provide drugs, but now that they are defunct thanks to Jay, that job will likely transfer to the Russian mafia. 

The vodka kingpin, Gregor Petrovich will supply the clubs with alcohol exclusively. However, other members of the Russian Mafia can participate in various ways. For instance, Gregor's son, Zholdin was instrumental in recruiting Alistair to be a headlining wrestler in the club circuits. Zholdin is into the theatrics and story of wrestling. Other members of the mafia may be involved in the construction process. 

Clubs

There will be 5 clubs around Moscow. I'll post detailed descriptions of each in future posts.

"Hikari" - Arbat Street, Enlightenment District
"Kaizen" - Moscow City Business District, Adjacent to the Radiance Hotel
"Sakura Noir" - Patriarch Ponds, Central District
"Yūrei" - Red October Industrial River District
"Nocturne" - Red Light District

What exactly is a Host/Hostess club?

A host/hostess club is a type of nightlife establishment where customers pay to spend time in the company of professional hosts (typically men) or hostesses (typically women), who provide companionship, conversation, and entertainment. These clubs are known for their luxurious, intimate atmosphere and are a prominent part of Japan's nightlife.

Hostesses engage with men or women patrons, while hosts entertain female or male customers. The focus is on personalized service and attention, with hosts or hostesses acting as charismatic companions who create a relaxing and enjoyable experience. They pour drinks, engage in lighthearted or meaningful conversations, and may sing karaoke with patrons.

Importantly, these clubs are not usually about physical intimacy. Instead, they emphasize emotional connection, flirtation, and escapism, allowing customers to feel special and valued. Guests often become regulars, forming ongoing relationships with their favorite host or hostess like on-site girlfriends/boyfriends. The clubs can be quite expensive, with customers paying for time, drinks, and sometimes extravagant gifts for their host or hostess. Drinks, services, and gifts can run into the thousands, and guests are encouraged to spend lavishly to maintain their connection with their favorite host or hostess. Many are led to believe they’ve formed a genuine romantic bond, only to discover that their affections are part of a well-honed performance designed to secure loyalty and drive revenue. This emotional manipulation can drive customers into debt, with some even turning to loan sharks—often with ties to organized crime—to fund their habits.

Hosts and hostesses operate in a fiercely competitive environment, where their income depends on meeting sales quotas or commissions from drink sales. Those who fail to perform may face significant penalties, both financial and professional, creating a culture of relentless upselling and constant stress. Some workers are pressured into accompanying clients on paid dates outside the club, a practice that can veer into dangerous territory.

Marta woke up and got up from the air mattress on the floor of Elyse's room.  Ricky had been good enough to allow Marta to spend the night with Elyse.  It was good for her to get out of the house, and it was equally good for Ricky to have some time to himself.  Marta hoped he had spent his time having fun and not just sitting around at home.  He needed a break.  The fact that she had a group meeting with some of the Blackthorn kids and Elyse's new friend Hayden had just made it make more sense for her to stay here.

Elyse was still asleep and Splash still snoozed at the edge of Marta's mattress, so she padded across the hall to take a shower and get changed.  Today she wore a pair of blue jeans a white long-sleeved shirt with a black batman tee over it. She then went back over to the room, and Elyse was still asleep.

"Elyse, wake up sleepy-head!' she said shaking Elyse awake.

Elyse woke up and checked her wallet. "We still have time before you have to go down. Is something wrong?"

Marta shook her head. "No, but we have things to do first!" Elyse sat up in her bed and Marta went to her pack and pulled out a small wrapped Christmas present, climbed on to the bed, and handed it to Elyse. "Merry Christmas, Elyse!"

Elyse smiled at the package. "For me? Really?" Marta nodded vigorously and smiled. "And I haven't gotten you anything yet." Elyse frowned.

"It's okay.  You don't need to get me anything," Marta smiled.

"Nonsense - it's coming - don't you worry!" Elyse smiled and opened the package to reveal a small wolf statuette. "This is amazing.  Thank you so much, Marta!" She gave Marta a hug and put the statuette on her nightstand.

Marta stood up and pulled Elyse by the hand.  Splash woke up from all the movement in the room. "Not done yet - it's breakfast time.  Get dressed! It's time to go!"

Elyse complied and the pair (with Splash following) headed downstairs. Marta began to pull eggs and bacon out of the fridge and began to cook breakfast.  Ricky had taught her how.  "You don't have to cook for me," Elyse said, and Marta just gave her a smirk. 

When breakfast was completed, Marta sat next to Elyse and they began to eat.  Marta's thoughts turned inward.  She was anxious about this meeting - mostly because she hadn't met this Hayden yet.  At least she would be there with the other kids, and she heard Sterling was going to be there too.  That would help, but she still hadn't revealed much of her past to the Blackthorn kids either.  She was going to be vulnerable, and that was difficult.

"You'll be okay, Marta," Elyse said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to say anything you're not comfortable saying.  This is the first one - I'm sure no one will mind if you don't say anything."

Marta nodded. "I know.  You really think this will help?" Elyse nodded. "I'm anxious about it. I really do want to be here though. It's just hard to think about sharing."

Elyse gave her a hug. "Just be open and trust yourself.  You know these kids and what they've gone through.  There will be no judgement.  If it doesn't help, you don't have to go again.  You know yourself.  Let that guide you."

Marta smiled. "Thanks Elyse," she said. 

The pair talked a little more while they finished their breakfast.  Marta preparing herself for the talk that would be coming that day.  She would be open and ready.

The Halia restaurant of the Singapore Botanic Gardens had been closed to accommodate her visit. Tourism curtailed in the winter months, but the heat and humidity would remain long into the coming rains. Jia Xin sat with legs demurely crossed, nursing an iced glass of teh peng. An array of sweet treats had been left in an elaborate arrangement on one of the tables, decorated with expensive and rare blooms, and beyond that stood two women with folded hands and downcast eyes, ready to serve if required. Security was not absent, merely discrete. After some pleasantries Jia Xin had dismissed the garden manager, citing a need to enjoy the air and beauty of his wonderful gardens in solitude. The tips of his ears pinked with the charm of her order, but if he found it rude (and it was unlikely that he did) he was not about to argue with a Kao.

She’d spent the afternoon engaging effortlessly with the crowds which gathered to seek a glimpse of her presence while she was led through her public tour, pausing to pose for photos, and filming the segments that would form her own edits of the occasion. The tropical gardens were ranked amongst Asia’s top tourist attractions, but their links with the Kao family were blooded far deeper than popularity. Cultivation of rubber extraction techniques here in the early twentieth century had led to domination of the global latex trade, and the Kaos were ever the roads upon which such wealth travelled.

Today the orchid house had been as beautiful as always, filled with the rarest specimens and newest experimental hybrids for which they were world renowned. Jia Xin greeted and encouraged with charisma and interest. The expertise here was why Singapore was known as the Garden City, so the Kao’s continued patronage was no surprise. Such was the prestige that diplomacy was often awarded visiting dignitaries or celebrities in the form of a named orchid, and today Jia Xin’s publicised visit had been to accept the newest bloom to be bred and named in honour of the Kao family. It was exquisite, as were its predecessors.

“Moscow?” Liyana repeated. Her cousin was leaning on the restaurant’s railing, looking out into the lush tropics of the surrounding garden. The chimes of a small waterfall sounded distant, and the scent of the flowers was nothing short of heavenly. “You know that’s where they sent Zixin. There’s no way Yeye will let you go there while he’s on business.”

Behind the shade of her sunglasses, Jia Xin’s attention moved over to where she stood. Ice clinked as she sipped her tea, sharp with a suffusion of ginger. The gesture obscured the sly twitch of her smile. Of course, Liy wasn’t wrong. While the Kaos carefully and quietly expanded their territories, the bold and unexpected descent of Singapore's nominal princess would spook all the existing powers into attention with her interest. Jia Xin’s tours were no small things after all; she travelled light in neither people, nor in possessions. If Moscow did not yet understand the invading power, they soon would, with a display like that.

But she had no interest in stepping on her brother’s toes, nor in defying their Yeye – at least in the spirit of his wishes.

Liyana shot a look over her shoulder, then turned fully at whatever she perceived of Jia Xin’s expression. Suspicion clouded her features before she folded her arms, lips pursed together in resignation. All as quick as that. No one ever really argued with Jia Xin, least of all little cousin Liya. Only her father or grandfather might truly rein in her desires, and it rarely happened. Not even her own beloved brother had that power unconditionally, though he might like to think he did. But that was exactly why she had no intention of informing any of them of her plans.

“Just think how hideously cold it will be there, Jiji!” Liy said in disgust. Which, to her credit, having implored whilst surrounded by the beautiful tropics of their home, still decadently warm even in November, was another very good point made. Not that it was a worry Liyana needed to concern herself with, since whatever Jia Xin's normal habits, she wasn’t coming.

“I won’t be gone long enough for anyone to notice, and you’ll help me make sure it stays that way.” Jia Xin stood, setting aside her glass and lifting the sunglasses atop her head. She took her cousin’s shoulders in gentle persuasion. Not that the battle was not already won. Her lips already found themselves plumped in a mischievously triumphant smirk, and the cunning was aglow in her dark eyes.

Liyana only sighed, releasing her arms from their defensive fold across her chest. “You can’t seriously be thinking of going there alone. At least tell me why!”

“Singapore is just so quiet without Zixin,” she said with a smile. “I miss my brother, that’s all.”

It was too dismissive to be the only truth, and they both knew it. In fact she intended to see Zixin not at all, though Liyana didn't need to know that. She'd be back in the Garden City before he ever realised she'd been right under his nose.

[[continued from A Little Broken]]

Her mother lived in the shittiest part of town, and it was not a long walk from the church. Oriena paid gopniks to watch her door, make sure she stayed out of trouble, keep her safe from herself. Nadezhda just thought they were nice young neighbourhood men, despite the baggy pants and tattoos on their necks and hands. When she arrived she let herself in the apartment without knocking – there was rarely any point announcing herself. It was gloomy inside despite the cold afternoon sun, the curtains drawn until Ori tugged them aside. Her gaze wandered over the evidence of her mother’s strange obsessions without much feeling. The woman herself was kneeling in the dark of the living room, muttering to herself.

Nadezhda didn’t react right away to the light, though her gaze did rise, fixed on something unseen. The rosary was tight in her grip, the skin of her hands chapped and sore. Exhausted and soul-weary, Ori sat on the sofa to wait it out, running her hands over her head. Her muscles ached from the church floor, but it was the lingering weight of the ijiraq’s possession which muted her. She longed for the hot steam of a shower to scour memory away. But for now she simply sat with the one thing in this world that mattered to her above everything.

A hand eventually clutched at her knee, signalling her mother’s awareness of her presence. Ori let her hands drop from her face, wary for what Nadezhda would surface. She saw demons as often as she mourned for Ori’s soul, had done ever since the Sickness assailed her as a teenager, though none of the injuries were ever inflicted intentionally, physical or mental. Today her eyes were glazed and distant as she smoothed the hair from Oriena’s cheeks, wiping at imaginary tears. The rosary bit between them, but Ori didn’t flinch.

“Darling girl, darling girl,” she said over and over.

Oriena was dry-eyed, but the whites were all red. From the self-abuse of her own recklessness, from the tears she must have cried unknowing in the ijiraq’s grasp. She didn’t speak. It wasn’t like Nadezhda was really here. After a moment her head dipped, coming to rest on her mother’s shoulder.

Nadezhda sobbed enough for both of them.

Continued from "Hooked"

When the Auctioneer divulged that Bode could be located at Kallisti, Jaxen's first thought was that she might be Oriena. After all, Oriena had the malice to orchestrate such a scheme. But then again, she was far too indolent to invest this much effort into sabotaging someone, even if that someone was the Emissary. Oriena preferred to either crush her adversaries outright or dismiss them entirely. This level of intricacy suggested a more cunning mind at play. If Jaxen weren't so irked by the wild goose chase, he might have found it intriguing.

He attempted to resume his life, to let this whole fiasco fade into oblivion. Yet, each time he tried, a nagging pressure built at the base of his skull, unbidden memories of Kallisti flooding his thoughts. He hadn't set foot there since meeting Oriena. Sure, Kallisti was entertaining, but it was just one of countless pleasure palaces in Moscow. Lately, the place had garnered a reputation as a bit of a buzzkill. The atmosphere had shifted—more serious, less 'anything goes.' Perhaps it was mere gossip from disgruntled staff or slighted patrons, but Jaxen certainly wasn't avoiding it because of Oriena. Definitely not.

When the night arrived that he could procrastinate no longer, Jaxen dressed for the venue. His pants had a velvety sheen, begging to be pet by expert hands. His shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, revealed the edges of the snake skeleton tattoo winding down his body. A fur coat draped over his shoulders, though it was promptly checked at the door upon his arrival at the Burlesque house. Once divested of the coat, a Hello Kitty sticker adorned his shoulder, brazenly flipping the bird with angry eyes.

At first glance, Kallisti appeared unchanged. The imposing stalinesque façade still commanded attention, its nighttime illumination banishing any lurking shadows. Inside, the lavish interior exuded wicked decadence, a harmonious blend of soft allure and severe elegance that set it apart from seedy strip joints. Not that there was anything wrong with that. The main area, with its extravagant bar and intimate stage, remained a shrine to seduction. Yet, as Jaxen surveyed the room, he noticed unfamiliar faces mingling about.

A hostess guided him to a table, her gloved hand gesturing gracefully. Settling into the plush seat, Jaxen cast his gaze around, the ambient lighting casting playful shadows even as the music lulled him into a state of relaxation. He hoped that 'Bode,' whoever she truly was, would make the next move, but if not, at least he would have some fun.

As soon as Elyse had heard Mae’s response to her declaration of love, Elyse had known it was over. Deep down she had known it. Elyse was sure Mae knew too.  Still she had fought that. Elyse had desired to hang on to the thought she could make this work. It had taken a lot of thought and a talk with Hayden to make her realize what she had to do. Because as much as she loved being with Mae, the thought of the end of their friendship was unbearable, and attempting to hang on to it was nothing but selfishness.

Elyse sat at the counter in the living area. She had to do this, and the sooner she did, the better it would be. She sent Mae a message. 

I’m ready to talk. Can we meet soon?

With the text sent, Elyse felt a sense of peace. She was still sad and upset, but now that action was being taken, she knew this was the right choice. Still she braced herself and thought about what she was going to say. Peace with the decision didn’t mean this wouldn’t hurt.

Tatyana looked at the odd coin in her hand with its strange grinning face. She’s never seen anything like it. The first thought that went through her head was she could sell it. It had to be worth something. Tatyana pulled out her stash, a metal container that held her pills in it. Opening it she could see she was running low. She’d had to ration them until she could find more cash. This coin might be enough to get her more though. 

The more she looked at it, however, the more she didn’t want to sell it. Tatyana wanted to know what it was and why it was here. It had been the clinking sound that drew her to it. Someone had dropped it - or possibly thrown it. Why - she didn’t know. Still she looked around. No one was around or they were hiding. It didn’t matter. The coin was hers now. She put it in her stash with her pills. 

She had originally come here for solitude, but now that her high was wearing down she was more amiable to company. Not that she wanted to talk, but she didn’t want to freeze and the church housed refugees. She wasn’t one, but she doubted they would turn her away because of that.  She went back to the church, passing by the unconscious bodies of the men that had tried to steal her food. She thought about the fight. Tatyana was strong, but not so strong that she should have been able to kick one man across the entire alley. Today was a day for strange occurrences. 

Tatyana arrived back at the church and going to the area were the refugees stayed she found a place to sit alone. She then felt a tear begin to fall, a sign the numbness was going away.

Fuck! she thought. 

She was supposed to ration, but she figured one more wouldn’t hurt today. The high might even ease her into sleep later. She opened her stash and took out the coin and one pill, which she took with a sip of water from her canteen. It would take time for the high to take effect, but the knowledge it was coming kept the demons at bay. She held on to the coin and contemplated it.

[[continued from here]]

After leaving Eddie’s apartment, Nesrin crossed the city to a bank of storage lockers at a metro station. She had several dotted around, mostly with emergency stashes – cards, money, that kind of thing. But this one just had the coffee-stained laptop and the old wallet she’d been using the previous day. Both items were little more than set dressing, things she used to blend in, but the phone was her connection to Wicked. She owed him some information, and Nesrin always kept her word when it mattered to her. She locked the laptop back up, and caught one of the circular trains south.

It was late morning, still too early for lunchtime traffic, so she had the carriage to herself. In Eddie’s shirt no one would glance twice at just another commuter anyway. She sat with her legs crossed, thick hair pulled over one shoulder, still faintly damp from the second shower. When she ducked her head to check the phone for messages, she could still smell the clean scent of him in the fabric. It flickered a smile as she waited for the wallet to boot up.

After a moment the screen blinked with something from Wicked, dated yesterday: If you frequent Manifesto we'll have to make some arrangements.

Arrangements? she shot back.

Despite the significant delay in her reply he answered almost immediately, the same as he had in the coffee shop.

Manifesto security is tight. If you want my help inside their walls I need a connection to you

The last they’d spoken he’d asked about the garment bag and she’d responded with a coy tease, sure he’d follow out of curiosity. So of course his knowledge of her movements wasn’t a surprise – it was exactly what she’d charmed him for. Yet the proof of it still made her feel momentary uneasiness. She lived like a ghost – no one knew where she was day to day, not even the Asquiths. It was the word connection which twisted her stomach cold though, sparking an unwelcome memory of Zigzag’s explanation of the Emissary.

I did okay. I have some info on the Key, she sent, followed a moment later by: Okay I'll bite. What do you mean connection?

Do tell *drool icon*

You didn't have your wallet with you.

Most of my friends have an app connected just to me

The train rumbled around her as she let that sink in. Okay. That was a relief. An app she could deal with; far more tolerable than the threat of playing host to fuck only knew what. Though “friends” was written in such a cutesy font it was beginning to become clear that Wicked’s amenability perhaps had less to do with the threads of power she’d spun into his head, and more to do with an obsession of his own. Which made a lot of sense in context, actually: it always seemed to work better when it pushed on an existing desire.

Thank fuck for that. One word about “hosts” or “gods” and, well… I like you Wicked but I’m just not that kind of girl.

She forwarded the things Zigzag had told her about gods and creepy as fuck ethereal connections, then added: The Key. Two words: organic matter. Which… let’s avoid the obvious jokes. I got a Reading by the Archivist. He said it contains knowledge.

Btw, way to make a girl feel special. Friends? I’m shocked, truly. I'm still your favourite though right?

*giggle emoji* Do you think you are the only one who seeks The Wicked Truth's help? My favorites allow unfetted access to their lives.

Not sure you want me that close. But I like you. I need to know more.

As far as the Key goes. We need a more secure communication method. This piece of junk you got right now won't do.

I'm sending you a package. It'll be at Kallisti when you get there under Ness. That is the name you used?

Frankly she’d been fishing for a compliment before she agreed to anything she might regret. She didn't care how many “friends” Wicked had but she did care where she was ordered in the priority list. Most of her trust in him still stemmed from the stunt she’d pulled the night of the house party and not on his charity, even though he did ask for something in return.

Nothing bad had actually happened at the club, but she still had no idea who’d tried to spike her drink – something she accepted had happened now because, well, Eddie didn’t appear to have a duplicitous bone in his body (and what a lovely body it was). It wasn’t like Wicked even could protect her in the flesh. He just needed to keep her presence shielded from m’Antinomian, which he appeared to already be doing. Nesrin trusted her own skills for the rest – she knew how to keep herself ahead of the curve.

How close did she really want him? She was beginning to suspect the information he’d asked for was not the information she had assumed he wanted. But that was a thought she’d puzzle over later.

For now, she actually did have better tech, but no inclination to tell him that. This particular wallet was a piece of junk on purpose, but despite a flutter of caution inside, her interest piqued at the idea of a gift. It was an idea she liked.

You’re already in my back door, Wicked. Talk later.

We let the prior obvious comment go. *snickers* I don't know if I can let such an easy one go this time.

She grinned to herself, sent a cute winking emoji blowing a kiss, and pocketed the phone.