That one Sunny girl with the stories

Title: They died because God said they must (The new world needed room for me and you)

Wordcount: 

Summary: The OT3(?) mafia mashup from hell because I'm mad tho OR a tale of kingpins and their kingmaker 

This isn't her city, it's a little dirtier. Gritter on the outside, the line between the rich and poor so thick the the apartments have two separate entrances for the greater and the lesser. It seems like a shitty place to live, but an effective place to work. She can not function with nothing to serve, she's tried. Her own needs and wants bore her after a while, she's made for bigger and better and more destructive. A solider by trade.

A tool, searching for deft hands.

But she isn't quite sure where to start. There were so many angry people, so many sides and suits, a corporation that had their hands in everything . . .

She'd served an Empire before, working for another didn't seem right, not if she didn't have her hand in building it.  Best to start from the bottom then, somewhere she can keep her ear to the ground. The simple, most obvious solution was the most insulting one, but the pride that made her balk at the idea of applying at an upscale strip club was the the same that considered it one step closer to her goal.

Before she auditions, she calls her mom.

Two weeks into the job, she cuts off most of her hair. 

(she is not a lady anymore)

It's a little less than a month before she's asked to work a party for some real rough guys. Most of the dancers are scared, not because of the group themselves, but associating so closely with Shinra's enemies.  It  was a good way to get shot, or your power cut off, or any other nefarious consequence that no one could help you with or save you from. It's lucky then, that Aisha was never going to need to be saved. 

Even if she was, she's already prepared to save herself.

They prove to be a lively bunch, rather touchy but also by and large decent. There's an asshole or two, but for the size of the crowd it's not bad at all. By the time she's supposed to get on stage, she's already made what she normally would on a good Friday night.  But there's still that urge to perform, to show off what she'd learned. She's surprisingly elegant, more of a dancer than the job strictly requires, and her thighs are wrapped around the pole when she spots someone that looks interesting.

Bright, in the way that skies were on pretty days.

She had a gift to read people, and what she was seeing now was rare. Decency rolled off of him in waves, even though he was obviously the top guy, and the contrast fascinated her. Her movements shift to match, becoming more sensual, a body screaming out to be touched, and more than that, noticed.

Aisha's darker blue eyes lock on the stranger's impossibly bright ones. He is her mission, her audience of one, and all the rest be damned. Money wasn't a factor anymore, all her thoughts were on her work, giving him the best of her services. Her hips rock up as her body is showered with bills, yet her eyes don't waver, baiting. 

(I'm worth ten of everyone else on your team, you'll know it soon enough)

By the end, he is crooking his finger and she wants to squeal from the joy of it. But she goes backstage anyway, takes her valuable time, pins her hair up and paints her lips. All things she doesn't care about normally, but men do, and she can adjust to anyone's wishes for long enough to get her way.

The heat between her legs is unexpected, stifling, not something she feels like dealing with. So she doesn't, opting to put on a red La Pearla garter set instead, ready for the good old bait and switch. 

Pretend it's her body she's offering, but then

Give him a girl, who's really a hammer with the versatility of a Swiss Army Knife.

When she finally approaches his table, the suits part, gazing at him with respect and not terror. It's then she knows for certain he's her future something (he's her future, period, but that's for later) and there's no room for mistakes. But his plump lips are pressed against a cigarette, and his black hair is so wild she wants to run her fingers through it, and when he goes to put out his cigarette in the ashtray Aisha offers her wrist.

It isn't the first time she's done that for someone, been that for someone, but he seems surprised.

"You like being burned, sweetheart?"

"I like being useful. And cigarette burns are nothing, my old boss used to smoke freaking cigars. Which are bad for ya, you know?"

She slides in the booth, taking in his expression that's promising to give her the night of her life. Sex normally isn't her thing, and isn't it her luck that her best change for a good job is waking her up like this? If she thinks of the possibilities of being an asset again, it outweighs the way her thighs part ever so slightly for him by a mile. Aisha knows her potential is wasted here, that she can make him so much more than what he is.

Gently, she puts the cigarette out in the tray and leans in close.

"I can handle any stress you've got better than that silly old thing, I promise it."

 Introduction

(Intro, when Hinata first enters the classroom and is clueless, bluh bluh)

    I don’t like this. At all. Somethin’ shady’s goin’ on...



    I can see it too...



    That kind of movement? From a remote control? This isn't toy-level technology...

(After Usami transports them to the island with her magic stick seriously the fuck is this game???)


 

     It's a trick, right?

 

 

 

(I heard you like airplanes . . . Or, when Hinata and Nagito hit the airport and want to know about the planes)

 

    ‘Fraid not.


    Those things’re goin’ nowhere. I mean... they’re not broken - if they were just broken, we’d be flying already, y’know?


    They’re empty. Engines’re gone. Simply not there. These jets? They’re props.


     Ah... didn’t mean to start talkin’ shop when we just met. And, since we have just met...


    Name's Kazuichi Souda, "Super High-school Level Mechanic". Atcha service!


    Look... Bad stuff happens to engines, yeah? Sometimes, irreparable bad stuff. Sad, but true.


    This, though? Grounded plane, otherwise fine, completely missing engines? That’s deliberate. Someone wants us to stay here.

    Ah well. This ain’t natural, but I guess it’s nothing we can’t handle, right?


    I mean... sure, we’ve been trapped here, but... they aren’t forcing us to do anything weird or dangerous, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once Wren had entered middle school, it was discovered that she was extremely intelligent. She was moved up a grade, and proceeded to rub it in Feo’s face. Feo was okay in school, but she was nowhere near the genius that Wren was turning out to be. The girl were constantly at each other’s throats, Feo taunting Wren about her plain Jane looks (Feo was still a very pretty girl) and Wren retorted with Feo’s lack of scholastic aptitude. It got to the point where their parents hesitated to leave them in the same room by themselves. The war came to a head two years later when Feo, taking a break from riding her bike, heard her parents talking to Wren. She put her head near the door to her parent’s room, and heard something that would change her world forever.

 

“Wren, honey, don’t worry about what that girl said about you. So what if she thinks you’re ugly? You’re brilliant, and you are going places. Besides, most girls that are the cute ones at your age are either ugly or useless at mine”

 

Feo was crushed. She had no idea that Wren had been crying before she came in, or that her mom had been talking about a bully in Wren’s class and not her. All she knew is that Wren had won. No matter how bad she made Wren feel, she was still going to win in the end. It was likely she was going to be an ugly loser when she grew up, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. In the weeks to come, Feo would spend most of her time playing outside, going as far as doing her homework at lunch so she could get out of the house faster. When she did encounter her sister, she didn‘t speak to her at all. It was possibly worse than before. None of them could figure out what was behind the sudden change. 

 

Jenny got an offer as a plant supervisor, but it required transferring from California to Minnesota. She wasn’t thrilled about it, but it was a major pay raise and offered a change of scene. After discussing it with Carlos, they decided that he would sell his car repair shop, and they would make the move to Saint Paul. Wren and Feo would have to start fresh in a completely new state. They both adjusted surprisingly well, even being civil to one another. Feo started to go by Eleri in school, not wanting to be teased about her name. Unfortunately, she was teased anyway. Where girls had been jealous of Wren for being better in class than they were, they were jealous of Eleri (as she was now known) for being prettier than them. She began constantly getting detention for bickering with them during classes. Her parents tried talking to her, but she refused to tell them what was going on. At their wit's end, they begged Wren to help her younger sister out. She begrudingly agreed. Although Feo wouldn't listen to Wren at first, she wore her down. In time, the two started hanging out with each other just because they wanted to. Wren told Feo how she had been treated back then, and how she had to stop caring what people thought about her - including Feo. With Wren's advice, she made it through middle school with her head held high. One unexpected side effect of said confidence was her reputation as a notorious flirt (and worse). She loved the power she had when a boy was under her spell. Quite a few guys had fallen under her spell during middle school; she’d stolen more than her share of boyfriends. However, she never got any further than kissing with any of them. 

 

In Bayview, she ran with the popular circles. She wasn’t necessarily friends with all of them, she just found them to be the group she had the most in common with. In tenth grade, she was put in a beginning band class. She couldn’t transfer out of it; the classes were too full. The band teacher, Mr. Schuster, put her on instrument after instrument, trying to find one she could play. He eventually found her an old alto sax. To her, Mr. Schuster, and her family’s surprise, she had a natural gift for it. She soon grew in her skill, seeing it as a ticket to her being more than just a pretty face. Outside of school, she generally was either working out or practicing. With all her activity in band, she never got any less popular or any less flirtatious. She didn’t actively steal anyone’s man anymore, but she frequently crossed the line between flirting with someone and actually coming on to them.