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𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚「ᴘᴇɴ ✧ ꜱᴛᴀʀ」ⁿˢᶠʷ
- Thread starter starshine
- Start date
Penitency
Forgiving Your Sins
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2014
But now? A year or so later.
That sense of normalcy shattered the moment foreign forces began making inroads within Shanghai following an alliance with Axis powers; whispers of expanded war spread through the city. The fear of bombing from the Allies was a real thing; the persecution of certain pockets of the populace by the secret police was surfacing. Without much resistance, the occupying powers turned their gaze inward, and the city was transformed into a city under strict control and surveillance.
Now, the streets of Shanghai echoed with the relentless march of foreign soldiers, their gray uniforms and red armbands a constant, oppressive presence. The café, once a haven of warmth and camaraderie, was crawling with soldiers—day and night—forcing the staff to serve them despite their miserable treatment. The heavy presence of secret police and occupying troops was felt everywhere; they often gathered at the Jade Lotus later in the day for drinks, their sinister presence a reminder of the city’s dark new reality.
The city, home to diverse races and cultures, was under a brutal campaign of suppression. The thunderous roar of armored vehicles—tanks and trucks—rumbled through the streets, shaking the wooden-paneled walls and rattling tables and chairs. Tall, black boots marched in perfect unison, a thunderous accompaniment to the relentless advance of war, as if lightning followed the storm. The city was no longer the vibrant, lively metropolis it once was; it had become tainted by influence and fear.
Amidst this chaos, a loud commotion erupted at the long central table of the café, a disturbance that had persisted for hours. A small unit of five soldiers, their faces flushed with alcohol and mischief, had been draining the café’s beer supply while playing cards on the worn wooden surface. One soldier suddenly stood, slamming his hand onto the table and pointing accusingly at his comrade. “That’s against the rules!” he shouted, voice thick with a German accent. “He’s trying to cheat, can’t you see?” Their dialect lacked the charm of the local language, but it didn’t matter to them. Most of the soldiers had weapons— Karabiner 98ks, MP40s, StG44s—either laid out on the table or leaning against it, ready for use.
Most of the soldiers wore gray uniforms with black, knee-high boots. Their features—blonde hair and piercing blue eyes—seemed almost stereotypical of the occupying forces’ ideals. As they bickered playfully, a man in a tailored trench coat rose from the corner of the room. His uniform was immaculate, black with white piping, a neatly pinned tie at his collar, and a blood-red armband bearing a symbol of authority wrapped around his arm. Medals and badges of rank adorned his chest, signaling his high status. Holding a mug of beer, he approached the group with confidence and authority, shouting, “That’s enough! Give me a set of cards already. Stop acting like a bunch of children.”
The officer, with slicked, jet-black hair, threw back his beer in one swift motion, draining the mug and slamming it onto the table, causing some cards to fly into the air before settling back down. He wiped his lips with his forearm’s sleeve, then called out loudly, “Where’s that hostess? Another beer!” waving his mug as if she could hear him. The others at the table chuckled, one remarking, “She’s not bad, right? Service might be terrible, but she’s something to look at.” Constanze, the commanding officer, licked his lips with a wicked grin, revealing pearly white teeth. His piercing blue eyes fixed on her with intense interest. “Oh yes, she is… come on, another beer, sweetheart,” he shouted, adding a forced laugh.
Meanwhile
Leaning forward and staring at the word a little harder, the fit male tried his best again, "Guten Morgen. Ah ~ that's it." His voice was again kept to a muttered pitch as his southern draw laced those raspy words spilling from him. With an accomplished smile beginning to creep along his lips, the brute rested his broad back into the chair's support behind him.
That's when the commotion started.
Ethan's observant gaze caught the Gestapo reaching forward and getting a handful of the barmaid's ass they had been harassing. A deep yet nearly inaudible sigh would part his lips as he closed the paper in both of his hands. Ethan then tossed the folded paper on the table before him. The aforementioned action had the coffee within his mug shifting. Ethan didn't blow his cover or make the German agents aware of him. Instead, the muscular brute simply observed from the corner of his portion of the wood constructed bar. He'd nonchalantly reach up with his right hand and pinch his cigarette between thumb and pointer finger before drawing it from his lips.
Ethan was a tall man standing at six foot, four inches in height. He wore a black undershirt that clung to the protruding shape of his dominant pectoral muscles. Said fabrics hugged at the faintly outlined rib cage underneath his hefty chest before covering striated abdominal muscles that could almost be mistaken for cobblestone. A worn, brown leather jacket was worn over that base layer which hid his sculpted arms that led to either broad shoulder at the sides of his thick neck. Furthermore, a pair of faded blue jeans hung low over his tree-trunk sized thighs and muscled calves. Within the waistband was a hidden, holstered, and military issued 1911 handgun and an extra steel magazine... considering one magazine only held eight shots, the man opted for another.
Minutes Later
“Lu Xiaoyu,” the older man chimed up, “you’ll do as you're told.”
Lu Haoyu had always been a busy entrepreneur in a bustling city that left you behind if you didn’t stay current. A shrewd, wise businessman– the hunched, cane wielding mule motioned to her with it like a weapon, “this is survival. The future of the family. You and I both know the Germans are here now. Whether we like it or not.”
They’d travel across the road together, Haoyu wearing a usual well pressed suit of charcoal color. The smoke and leather of the Lotus hit them when the door was opened. Ethan couldn’t help but notice Haoyu and Lu entering as the light cut through the room before the door closed behind them.
Both hands adjusted the inner portions of his jacket as he stood before Ethan then pulled out a chair for her, followed by one for her father. He’d tip his head, “Guten Morgen.” Hiding his southern accent well enough, for now. Trading glances with Xiaoyu had Ethan realizing he had seen her at the market a few times; she always managed to steal his glances.
His heart picked up a beat.
“I hope you have not been waiting long. We were on time, I made sure of it.”
“No, that’s okay. I was early… wanted to sample the coffee.”
“You don’t look like… them.” Haoyu narrowed his gaze, motioning to the soldiers and officer nearby, still causing a commotion in the background.
“Ah, well, not all of us can have blue eyes. Lu Xiaoyu, I presume? Beautiful. Elegant. Honored. My name's Ethan.” As he spoke his name, he'd pull thecigarette from his lips, lean over the table, and neaten it up with a few taps of his finger over the top. Smoke slowly exhaled through his nose like the devil himself, tendrils swirling around him, those intent green eyes level set in Xiaoyu's own.