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peskellence · 6 months ago

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Rule Of Nines

Betrayal Pt. 1

Explicit content, Graphic Violence (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub

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Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

In the days that followed, they continued to receive packages from DeLuca's gang. They painted a vivid timeline of everything their prisoner had endured at their hands, supplied in meticulous detail. It seemed like Connor couldn't so much as wheeze for breath or piss his pants without the entire process being captured on a grainy video feed.

These recordings would be sent to the Reed Hideout in the form of more flash drives—of which they'd amassed quite a collection, piled high on the meeting room table. Gavin couldn't help but wonder where the snake had gotten them all. Perhaps he'd held up a local convenience store for their office supplies…

It wasn't just the videos, of course. They'd had plenty of other weird and wonderful shit arriving at their doorstep. At one point, they received a densely packed envelope containing nothing but cigarette butts. There'd been seemingly no reason for this until a day later when the photos came—mapping in meticulous detail where exactly they'd been stubbed.

Very few of his men had the balls to open the mail after that, the last of the stragglers calling it quits following the most recent instalment in the 'Connor Torture Chronicles.'

It was impressive, really. Just how quickly a room full of criminals could turn into a PTA of pearl-clutching moms when the blood being spilt on-screen belonged to one of their own. Had the inherited burden of the family not already inspired sickness in Gavin, their reception of DeLuca's ongoing media project would have more than secured his disdain.

The video that had proved too much for their delicate sensibilities found Connor in a new location, much better lit than the dingy warehouse which usually hosted his suffering.

Evidently, DeLuca wanted to make sure this most recent performance was made crystal clear for its audience, showcasing all its bloody glory. No one had made it all the way through, with the last viewing attempt interrupted as one of the men loudly and violently expelled the contents of his lunch.

In the relative security of his well-insulated (and much less pungent) office, Gavin pushed back the screen of his laptop and calmly resumed the clip:

�� ◁ || ▷ ↺

Connor had been strapped by his wrists to a dilapidated table, secured with bulky leather binds. An unidentified contraption sat in front of him, looking like some long-forgotten relic from a medieval torture dungeon—or something out of a horror movie.

Rusted wires connected its mechanisms to a series of steel vices, which had been clamped around his fingers. They anchored the digits a few millimetres above the splintered wood, leaving a small margin of space. The scene remained motionless for a number of seconds, as though the screen had frozen until one of DeLuca's masked goons emerged in frame.

They settled into a fold-out chair, its creaky frame groaning under their weight. Gavin could practically taste the expectant satisfaction oozing from them as the corners of their mask creased upwards, hinting at a concealed grin. Protruding from the side of the strange device was a small plastic dial. While it had been scarcely visible until now, it became much more apparent as the captor's hand shot towards it. His reach extended until a voice sternly dissuaded him—and the grubby appendage stilled, waiting.

Faint mumbling could be heard off-screen, as though an unseen group were deliberating on the best course of action until the masked man was given the go-ahead in the form of a terse: "Now."

He wasted no time obliging the instruction as the switch was swiftly turned. One of the wires lurched back, taking a finger with it and forcing it to yield to an increasingly distorted angle. As it snapped in two, splintered bone pierced Connor's flesh, resembling a broken tree branch.

Given his already grotesque condition, this newest injury was barely noticeable. Over the course of the week, his body had been transformed from a blank paper doll into a vibrant, morbid mosaic. Angry, blistered welts wrapped his skin, sectioning numerous cuts and bruises.

His mind was clearly in similar ruin, as his head hung limply across his lap, dark eyes boring vacantly into the spring-lock mechanisms destroying his hands. He made no attempt to fight the restraints, nor did he try to plead through gagging binds of worn-out scotch tape. The room was silent, save for gurgles of pain and the repeated crunching of bones.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Gavin paused the video, sliding the laptop to one side as he reached for a neglected packet of cigarettes. It had failed to tug any heartstrings, which he suspected was the intent.

DeLuca and his gang could prolong the ordeal as much as they wanted; it wouldn't change his refusal to meet their demands. To him, the elimination of another undesirable bastard from his operations could only be considered a blessing.

What did get him thinking, however, was why Connor had been selected as the bargaining chip for the ill-conceived power play. It was no secret just how much Gavin loathed the man. No doubt Salvatore would have seen it himself during his time with the family. The frequent displays of vocal disdain and physical animosity were hardly subtle.

Not that he tried to hide it. He wore his hatred of the eldest Anderson as a badge of honour, boasting his ability to see through his bullshit in a way that no one else could. That was the bastard's M.O., after all: a 'skilled negotiator and manipulator', as Dad liked to put it.

The younger Reed favoured his own assessment, considering it more accurate. Connor was nothing more than a conniving, underhanded piece of shit. Someone who couldn't be trusted, with his purported 'skills' beginning and ending with his ability to convince people otherwise.

Clearly, he wasn't that great of a fucking negotiator, having failed miserably to sleaze his way out of his current predicament. A mess that Gavin was fast suspecting he’d created for himself—

A sudden knock rang through the office, derailing his thoughts and causing his hands to falter as he attempted to ignite a cigarette. The flame brushed the inside of his palm, and he dropped his lighter, hissing in pain. He then glared at the door, regarding the man concealed behind it with appropriate disdain:

"Yeah? Who the fuck is it?"

The unidentified figure was silent, as though paralysed by indecision, inspiring greater annoyance. This ill will festered cleanly into a familiar sense of impatience as he barked another demand. "Either answer me now or right fuck off. I don't have all damn day."

Even before recent events, it seemed most of his goons existed in perpetual fear around him. Maybe it was the threat of Nines pile driving them into the floor if they ever spoke out of line. It couldn't be a coincidence that the only person who'd ever shown the gall to charge him head-on, regardless of consequence, had always been Connor.

He'd put an end to this misguided confidence as soon as he could once he'd taken over from Dad. Making it clear he wouldn't be giving the doe-eyed cretin any of the same special treatment. This also extended to Nines, as he firmly dissuaded the soft touch he had been lending his sibling.

Because it wasn't deserved, it hadn't been earned. Gavin wasn't his Dad, any more than Nines was his brother—

There was another knock on the door as a despondent voice spoke:

"... It's me."

— At least, that's what he'd always believed. Until recently.

The pitiful address brought with it a whole new wave of frustration. Having recovered from his brush with the lighter, Gavin picked it up, sparking the awaiting cigarette hanging from his lips. He inhaled deeply before releasing the coiling smoke from his lungs with a harsh growl.

"Was wondering when you'd show your face," he grumbled out accusingly, "You've been pussyfooting around me all day."

What followed was far more 'demand' than it was 'permission' as he fought the urge to grab the man by the scruff of his neck, hauling his ass through the threshold himself. "Stop dicking around and get in here, jackass."

Nines had been terrible during the entire ordeal, and it was reflected in his Hellish appearance as he lifelessly skulked through the doorway. He looked like a zombie, his once meticulously styled hair hanging greasy and limp against his face. His fair skin was nearing grey from how sickly it had become; exhaustion formed in deep-set rings around his eyes.

Even with the door no longer muffling his words, Nines sounded nothing like himself. His words came dull and monotonous, lacking their usual bite: "We received another delivery…a few minutes ago…"

His movements were just as stiff as he idled by the foot of the doorway, a string-bound package clutched limply in his hands. The style of wrapping was all too familiar, making no secret of its origin.

Gavin reclined in his seat. He kicked up his steel-capped boots and thumped them down on the desk, almost sending his laptop flying. As he took another drag of his smoke, he summoned the other man closer with a lazy beckon. "Well, better be something exciting if it's important enough to interrupt my 'me time'"

Nines straightened up a bit, his slumped shoulders rolling in a tense bristle, but ultimately remained frozen. The timid movement inspired an ongoing ripple of disfavour, fanning the flames of the embittered resentment.

Honestly, the mobster could have forgiven Nines' sudden glow down, and even his sudden shitty work performance, had his corpse-like appearance not come with a matching libido.

It had been days since the man had last touched him. Longer than he'd ever been forced to abstain in the entire time of their 'arrangement'. The current distance between them felt staggering, and Gavin hated just how deeply it sought to affect him.

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" His lips twisted into a bitter snarl as he fired off a biting instruction. " Now , dipshit."

Slowly, Nines dragged his heels to where Gavin was sitting, moving in small, laboured shuffles. His lax grip was relinquished as he deposited the parcel onto the grimy surface of the desk.

He toyed with the strings, exerting minimal effort as he loosened them. The paper beneath fell away to reveal a tape-bound box, which he hacked at clumsily with a nearby pen knife.

As the container was opened, the first thing that hit was the smell. Wafts of copper mingled with rot drifted into the smoke-laden air. It was overwhelming, forcing him to recoil instantly. He pinched his nostrils and tilted his head—a reflexive action to shield himself from the full hilt of the stench.

"What the hell is that?"

Admittedly, he already had a pretty firm idea of what it was. Or, more precisely, who . What part of him he was looking at, however, remained a mystery. The putrid mass of flesh sat limp and bloodied in the centre of a pile of shredded paper, unidentifiable.

After taking a moment to steel himself, he moved back towards the package; eyes narrowed as he peered curiously into the contents. Following a period of closer inspection, he mumbled out a tasteless remark. "...Kinda looks like the mouse I had to dissect in 8th Grade."

Nines didn't laugh at the joke or attempt to feign any degree of interest. Opting to stare rigidly at the yellowed rolls of paper peeling from a nearby wall. Gavin's smile dropped at the snub, having officially exhausted his patience with the man's ongoing pity party.

"I dunno. What do you think?" He then gestured his cigarette towards the box in line with a pointed glare. Ash scattered across his desk as it missed his often-neglected tray.

The movements of Nines' head were jerky, robotic, as he dared a small glimpse into the bed of crinkled packaging. The regret in his eyes was instantaneous, his sallow complexion growing even more sickly as a sharp hitch escaped his throat.

"I think it's—"

The sentence was aborted as his throat tightened, larynx clenching. The contractions became increasingly pronounced as though he were repressing the urge to vomit.

"...I think it's part of his ear."

Gavin whistled at the revelation, his lips pursed in bemusement. He was almost impressed that such a delicate cross-section had been severed from the appendage, especially by a group of thugs who probably struggled to tie their shoes.

"Well, shit. Good thing he's got two of 'em."

"We have one more day," came a sullen response. Nines anchored himself across the desk, subtly reducing the gap between them, "and we haven't done anything. Communicated with DeLuca at all, even to acknowledge that we've received the messages."

"I know. We're not going to."

"Gavin…" Nines sounded winded, almost painfully so, as he attempted to support himself against the soiled wood. His palms were caked with powder, dirtied by a thick layer of grey. "He's my brother."

"He's a rat," the other man corrected. His fingers drummed idly against the table, flecks of ash falling in sync. "With any luck, pest control will do their job."

"He'd never do anything to betray you. Betray us—"

"Oh, what, did he tell you that?" The question was simpered mockingly, concluded with a barked laugh. "Come on, think about it. Why would DeLuca take him when he had literally any other option?"

Despite all the enduring desperation he'd shown in pleading his case, Nines had no response to this. His lips gaped open and closed before pulling into a tight frown.

"Guess whatever deal they had finally went south…" Gavin tutted in false sympathy as he flicked his now extinguished cigarette across the room. "That's a real shame."

"I understand you've never warmed to him…but I implore you not to make decisions based on that alone." In an act of desperation—and presumably madness—he reached forward, attempting to place a hand on his calf. "Just try to be reasonable for a moment."

Gavin bristled at the insolence.

Oh no you don't.

He shot his legs back, preventing contact from being made, as he planted the ridged soles of his boots firmly onto the ground. He then hauled himself up from his chair, grabbing Nines by the collar and yanking him further across the desk.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do." The words were seethed through clenched teeth as his jaw locked tight in warning. They were close enough that speckles of spit propelled onto the other man's face, glossing his cheeks.

They stayed this way for quite some time as Nines stared back at him fixedly. Waiting in hushed anticipation as he deliberated on his next move.

The longer spent in this proximity, the more Gavin could feel his convictions wane. All it had really taken was a whiff of the woody cologne clinging to the other man's neck for anger to slip into hesitancy.

There was musk as well. Clearly, he hadn't showered in a couple of days, but even that proved inexplicably tempting in his current repressed state. Enough to send a shiver up his spine and the blood in his brain rushing south.

God-fucking-dammit.

Even when he looked like an extra out of The Walking Dead, Nines still possessed his unique ability to drive him completely insane. It didn't matter how many nights of sleep he missed; there was no getting past the marble-like chest and the jawline that could cut through glass…

Reaching for his face, his subordinate tensed as though preparing for a strike. Gavin then ran a hand up his neck, kneading the flesh beneath his fingertips. In a show of possessiveness, he flicked up his thumb, pulling it across his jaw as he firmly traced the bone.

"Come on, baby," he crooned, craning across the barricade that dared to separate them. He tickled the shell of the other man's ear in long puffs, shamelessly goading a response. "Connor isn't worth us fighting over. You're smart enough to know that, right?"

Nines' eyes pinched closed as his expression grew increasingly strained. Clearly, he was a man at war with himself, torn between duty and desire. Then, he slowly began to give in, relaxing under the touch, leaning towards it reflexively.

"Gavin, please. Just this once, give DeLuca what he wants." Slowly, his eyes opened, icy grey darkened by lust. He grabbed his lover's hand, cradling it firmer against his face and ran his cheek against it. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, peppering them with gentle kisses. "Do it for us. For me."

And just like that, the moment was ruined. His dick stopped thinking for him as the blood surged back to his brain, firing off a series of blaring warnings.

No.

This isn't right .

Nines knew the rules, he understood damn well this wasn't how they did things. They did grabbing hands, tongue, and teeth, not soft touches and whispered promises. It was too intimate—throwing into ruin years of carefully crafted understanding.

The kisses burned hotter than any lighter, and Gavin snatched his hand back, stomach churning.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Nines recoiled, the underlying vacancy of his gaze giving way to focus for the first time in days. His eyes sprung wide, staunchly alert, and after a period of tense shock came confusion, nestling in the cracks of his stricken features. "...I… don't understand what you mean."

The sickening churn grew more pronounced as something rose in the back of his throat. Initially, it could have been mistaken for bile—until low chuckles began to echo against the muscled walls. They ramped quickly until they had built into large, bitter cackles.

Gavin sat back in his chair, trembling, as he punctuated his disbelief with a harsh slam against the table. An empty coffee cup rattled on the trembling foundation before slipping from the desk and shattering on the ground.

Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought.

While he was willing to chalk at least some of the misunderstanding down to Nines' current exhaustion, the lapse in judgment still demanded a correction. He held himself upright, chin jutted high, as he cracked the bones of his now pulsing knuckles.

"Let's make something clear—because it looks like you might have forgotten. I might let you fuck me, but you're still my bitch. You do what I want when I want it. I'm the one calling the shots."

The more he spoke, the more Nines seemed lost to despair. Watching as the line he'd cast, Gavin vanished into the ocean, pulled by an intense force. "I have never once questioned you, and I don't intend to do so again. This is not something I ever predicted I'd have to ask for. I just…"

The words trailed off, adopting a distant quality, as his brow pinched in concentration.

“...thought…after all this time…"

"You thought wrong." Gavin interrupted, refusing to let him continue. "I keep you around for two reasons: You can shoot a bullet through a man's eyes from across a football pitch, and you screw better than some coked-up hooker."

His gaze was spearing, carving into him in line with the daggers spewed from his lips. Every aspect of Nines' response was monitored closely—with cold, unfeeling scrutiny. As he watched the man fall apart, he saw something more than the stony-faced machine his Dad had always praised.

Nines looked hurt . All wide eyes and trembling lips, the picture of vulnerability.

In his current crestfallen state, he was a spitting image of Connor. The realisation worked another knot into the mangled mess of his gut as Gavin realised the bounds of his trust had extended too far, allowing for too much leniency. It was a wrong he sought to correct. Swiftly and definitively.

"You mean nothing to me, and neither does your shithead brother. Do you understand that?"

Nines' face pulled and contorted as though struggling to contain a deluge of sentiment. Waves built, cresting rampantly as they prepared to crash down—but the flood never came, trickling away without event.

Sharp features settled back into their usual stoic rigidity as he coolly returned to form, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Understood."

Gavin could feel the tension that had amassed slowly begin to wane. He slunk down into his seat with a satisfied grunt. "Good. So quit bitching and do something useful. Either handling the situation down at the docks. Or…well…” He made a gesture towards the fly of his jeans, smirking as he did so. "You know the drill."

There was little consideration made for the crude proposition. Nines spun on his heel, refusing to dignify it, as he briskly strode from the office without saying another word.

#reed900 #detroit become human #dbh #dbh nines #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #detroitbecomehuman #detroit: become human #dbh fanart

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imaginaryari · 1 year ago

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squick haley come get y’all’s juice

It’s late, just after sunset when he decides to approach the tourists. “Mind if I join you guys?” Zhonglin asks them at their illegal little campfire. It’s two men probably close in age to Zhonglin but looked much older. One had light blue eyes and blond hair peeking out from his bucket hat, the other had his hair dyed a violently orange color and pale green eyes.

“Sure,” the blond says, “Want a kebab?”

“I’m good thanks.” Zhonglin takes a seat on the ground across from them. He’s brought nothing but a huge metal water bottle. “Where are you two from? Infernal? Trident?” Zhonglin guesses.

“We’re actually from the Ring Satellite.” The blond says.

“Oh, off planet,” Zhonglin says, unimpressed. “What brings you to Earth?”

“It’s this trend. They tell us Earth is not able to sustain life anymore but through the grapevine we’ll hear about cities like Solace and Infernal and Expanse and how everyone lives off the stuff the Earth makes. We thought it was a myth, so we liberated one of those supply pods to come down here.” The one with the fiery hair brags.

Zhonglin nods in understanding. These two have always broken laws and been inconsiderate, not just in his city. To further prove this, the blond pulls out a vape from his cargo pants.

“How did you get that past the watchmen?” Zhonglin asks.

He blows out unidentifiable fruit scented smoke. “What are you a cop?”

“We have no cops here, and no I’m not a watchman.” Zhonglin says with a shrug.

“Well, your ‘watchman’ or whatever didn’t know what it was.”

Sounds about right. “Well, smoking is banned here.”

“How,” fiery hair speaks up, “You just said there were no cops?”

“Right, so you entered through the city limits, because you saw a watchman, who definitely explained to you what is and isn’t allowed here and handed you one of our handbooks explaining our laws,” Zhonglin stands up and dusts himself off. “Smoking is banned because it’s bad for the air. Bad for your lungs too but honestly, I don’t care about that. This campfire is also illegal the smoke will bother the people here as well as the wildlife. Stealing is also not allowed, I know we have no currency here and you think so lowly of us, but I did see you,” He points to the fiery haired one, “Take something from a friend of mine today. You’re both very inconsiderate of the people here it’s shocking.”

The pair look at each other and the blond scoffs. “Dude, relax.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal anything. She dropped it. What, you want it back?” Orange hair says as if he’s challenging Zhonglin.

“No, she already told me she didn’t need it. I came of my own accord, to just warn you.

“Warn us? About what?” The blond asks.

“The wildlife here is used to us and we are used to them. If you had read that handbook, you would know just how dangerous this location is. See my friends think I’m cruel, so I came over here to prove I wasn’t. There’s a jaguar in this area very territorial.” Zhonglin twists the top off his water bottle and takes a sip. “To be honest everyone was just going to leave you out here, on account of you being the hardheaded tools that you are.”

“Screw you, you’re lying! You wouldn’t be out here if it was true!” Orange hair yells.

Zhonglin sighs and shakes his head. He tried. “Alright then.” He drowns their campfire with his water bottle leaving all three of them in complete darkness.

“What the hell?!”

“I wouldn’t linger too long out here.” Zhonglin’s voice calls from an indeterminable location.

#solace #they have no names bcuz ZL didn’t bother to learn them #also because they died. that night.#jaguar attacks are rare but not unheard of #mine #silent cities

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blowflyfag · 1 year ago

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WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION MAGAZINE : AUGUST 1993

EXPOSE FOLLOW UP

Presented By The World Wrestling Federation

THE CASE OF THE CAMOUFLAGE GARAGE

A STAFF REPORT

MONEY INC. BEATS THE RAP

Transcript Below!!!!

Money Inc., The Million Dollar ManTed DiBiase and IRS, are off the hook for the allegations that they engaged in dubious financial activities outside of the ring. A special federation panel that was convened by federation president Jack Tunney failed to come up with a unanimous verdict that Money Inc. did indeed commit acts that could merit their prohibition from the squared circle.

Establishments of the panel stemmed from an investigation by this magazine. We put a team of investigative reporters onto DiBase and IRS. Our cameras caught Money Inc. during what looked like a shady financial transaction. The photos, which were published in the July issue, showed DiBiase and IRS in the act of receiving money from an unidentified man in a parking garage in Phoenix, Arizona.

||Money Inc. was recently summoned to a hearing by Federation officials and President Jack Tunney. Apparently, this magazine’s probe into Money Inc.’s financial matters made sense to the president and his colleagues. These exclusive photos show you what occurred during Money Inc.’s hearing.||

After the man drove off, we recorded DiBase and IRS making light of the victim’s bankrupt business and how they (Money Inc.) planned to use the money to increase their overall capital gain. When the issue came to the attention of Federation President Jack Tunney, he sent out a special panel of World Wrestling Federation officials.

Money Inc. was livid, “Listen, little man,” the Million Dollar Man said to one of our reporters, “you’re liars. Look at what it says here in this summons: If said parties are found conclusively and unanimously guilty of unethical financial practices, their participation in the Federation will be terminated!”

“Terminated!” DiBiase exclaimed, and IRS’ face turned beet-red. “In other words, that means we might get kicked out of the World Wrestling Federation for good. Well, tell Jack Tunney that it isn’t gonna happen. We were set up by your magazine, and we’re gonna use all our resources to beat this case!”

Just days before this issue went on newspaper stands, Money Inc. appeared before the panel in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Tunnel and his staff allowed this magazine–and only this magazine–to record the event, since it broke the story in the first place.

The panel consisted of Jack Tunney, official Rene Goulet and two Federation accountants. When IRS learned that accountants would be present, he claimed he had the flu, leaving DiBiase to appear alone. Tunney opened the proceedings with a statement. “Mr DiBiase, Mr. Schyster,” Tunney said, “we, the members of this panel, have reviewed the photographs and audiocassettes provided to us by World Wrestling Federation Magazine and have probable cause to believe that you have elicited or currently elicit, some of your financials revenue in manners that many would find unethical.

“We, the members of this panel,” Tunney went on, “believe that athletes in the World Wrestling Federation should set the standard of excellence when compared with other athletes from other sports organizations.

“Therefore, if you gentlemen are found to be conclusively and unanimously guilty of any questionable acquisition of revenue–be it currency, gifts or favors–by this panel, your tenure in the Federation will be promptly terminated. Do you gentlemen fully understand the consequences to which you may be subjected?”

DiBiase simply smirked. But as he was questioned by the panel, he boiled over, especially with Goulet. “What I do outside the Federation is none of your business.”

After questioning, the members of the investigative panel retired to render a verdict. Nearly an hour passed. Then Tunnety and his associates emerged.

Before Jack Tunney announced the verdict, DiBiase looked at the panel and laughed. “Gentlemen,” sighed the president. “Although most members of this panel believe Money Inc. did engage in undesirable practices, one did not. The verdict was not unanimous, so Money Inc. can’t be penalized or found guilty as charged.”

When Tunney finished, DiBiase turned to our reporters. “I guess you can say this is the end of the story, huh, peons? Ha-ha-ha,” laughed DiBiase. Then he winked at one of the accountants on the panel. The panelist exited via the side door. DiBiase, laughing up a storm, sauntered out the same door.

Our reporter followed. Outside, the reporter continued to follow DiBiase. In a corner of the parking lot, DiBiase conferred briefly with the accountant from the panel. As they shook hands, it appeared that an envelope passed between them. But in the dim light of the parking lot, we couldn’t be sure. Whatever really went on, Money Inc. had beaten the rap.

CASE CLOSED

#ted dibiase #IRS #irwin r schyster #theyre evil husbands #wwf #world wrestling federation #wwf magazine #magazine transcript #Money Inc.

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cgogs · 11 months ago

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he can stay in ranboos old house <- horrible. no one wants to do this. he'd prefer the basement

It smells unidentifiably weird in ranboos house in a currency that dream doesnt accept. And all the valuables and furniture have been ransacked for alimony anyway

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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As the criminal trial of FTX founder Sam Bankman-Fried unfolds in a Manhattan courtroom, some observers in the cryptocurrency world have been watching a different FTX-related crime in progress: The still-unidentified thieves who stole more than $400 million out of FTX on the same day that the exchange declared bankruptcy have, after nine months of silence, been busy moving those funds across blockchains in an apparent attempt to cash out their loot while covering their tracks. Blockchain watchers still hope that money trail might help to identify the perpetrator of the heist—and according to one crypto-tracing firm, some clues now suggest that those thieves may have ties to Russia.

Today, cryptocurrency tracing firm Elliptic released a new report on the complex path those stolen funds have taken over the 11 months since they were pulled out of FTX on November 11 of last year. Elliptic's tracing shows how that nine-figure sum, which FTX puts at between $415 million and $432 million, has since moved through a long list of crypto services as the thieves attempt to prepare it for laundering and liquidation, and even through one service owned by FTX itself. But those hundreds of millions also sat idle for all of 2023—only to begin to move again this month, in some cases as Bankman-Fried himself sat in court.

Most tellingly, Elliptic's analysis is the first to note that whoever is laundering the stolen FTX funds appears to have ties to Russian cybercrime. One $8 million tranche of the money ended up in a pool of funds that also includes cryptocurrency from Russia-linked ransomware hackers and dark web markets. That commingling of funds suggests that, whether or not the actual thieves are Russian, the money launderers who received the stolen FTX's funds are likely Russian, or work with Russian cybercriminals.

“It’s looking increasingly likely that the perpetrator has links to Russia,” says Elliptic's chief scientist and cofounder Tom Robison. “We can’t attribute this to a Russian actor, but it’s an indication it might be.”

From the first days of its money laundering process following the theft, Elliptic says the FTX thieves have largely taken steps typical for the perpetrators of large-scale crypto heists as the culprits sought to secure the funds, swap them for more easily laundered coins, and then funnel them through cryptocurrency "mixing" services to achieve that laundering. The majority of the stolen funds, Elliptic says, were stablecoins that, unlike other forms of cryptocurrency, can be frozen by their issuer in the case of theft. In fact, the stablecoin issuer Tether moved quickly to freeze $31 million of the stolen money in response to the FTX heist. So the thieves immediately began exchanging the rest of those stablecoins for other crypto tokens on decentralized exchanges like Uniswap and PancakeSwap—which don't have the know-your-customer requirements that centralized exchanges do, in part because they don't allow exchanges for fiat currency.

In the days that followed, Elliptic says, the thieves began a multi-step process to convert the tokens they'd traded the stablecoins for into cryptocurrencies that would be easier to launder. They used “cross-chain bridge” services that allow cryptocurrencies to be exchanged from one blockchain to another, trading their tokens on the bridges Multichain and Wormhole to convert them to Ethereum. By the third day after the theft, the thieves held a single Ethereum account worth $306 million, down about $100 million from their initial total due to the Tether seizure and the cost of their trades.

From there, the thieves appear to have focused on exchanging their Ethereum for Bitcoin, which is often easier to feed into "mixing" services that offer to blend a user's bitcoins with those of other users to prevent blockchain-based tracing. On November 20, nine days after the theft, they traded about a quarter of their Ethereum holdings for Bitcoin on a bridge service called RenBridge—a service that was, ironically, itself owned by FTX. “Yes, it is quite amazing, really, that the proceeds of a hack were basically being laundered through a service owned by the victim of the hack,” says Elliptic's Robison.

On December 12, a month after the theft, most of the bitcoins from that RenBridge trade were then fed into a mixing service called ChipMixer. Like most mixing services, the now-defunct ChipMixer offered to take in user funds and return the same amount, minus a commission, from other sources, in theory muddling the money's trail on the blockchain. But Elliptic says it was nonetheless able to trace $8 million worth of the money to a pool of funds that also included the proceeds from Russia-linked ransomware and dark web markets, which was then sent to various exchanges to be cashed out.

“There might have been a handoff from a thief to a launderer,” says Robison. “But even if that was the case, it would mean the thief was in contact with someone who is part of a Russian money laundering operation.” Robison adds that Elliptic has other intelligence pointing to the money launderers' Russian ties, but doesn't yet have permission from the source to make it public.

After their initial attempt to launder a portion of the funds through ChipMixer, the thieves went strangely quiet. The rest of their Ethereum would remain dormant for the next nine months.

Only on September 30, just days ahead of Bankman-Fried's trial, did the remainder of the funds begin to move again, Elliptic says. By that time, both RenBridge and ChipMixer had been shut down—RenBridge due to its parent company FTX's collapse and ChipMixer due to a law enforcement seizure. So the thieves pivoted to trading their Ethereum for Bitcoin on a service called THORSwap and then routing those bitcoins into a mixing service called Sinbad.

Sinbad has over the past year become a popular destination for criminal cryptocurrency, particularly crypto stolen by North Korean hackers. But Elliptic's Robison notes that despite this, the movement of funds appears less sophisticated than what he's seen in the typical North Korean heist. “It doesn't use some of the services that Lazarus typically use,” Robison says, referring to the broad group of North Korean state-sponsored hackers known as Lazarus. “So it doesn't look like them.” Robison notes that Sinbad is likely a rebranding of a mixing service called Blender that was hit with US sanctions last year, in part for helping to launder funds from Russian ransomware groups. Sinbad also offers customer support in English and Russian.

Does the timing of those new movements of funds ahead of—and even during—Bankman-Fried's trial suggest someone with insider knowledge is involved? Elliptic's Robison notes that, while the timing is conspicuous, he can only speculate at this point. It's possible that the timing has been purely coincidental, Robison says. Or someone might be moving the money now to make it look like an FTX insider—potentially one who fears they might be about to lose their internet access. Neither Bankman-Fried nor his fellow executives have been charged with the theft, and some of the money movements have taken place while Bankman-Fried has been in court, with only a laptop disconnected from the internet.

Eventually, no doubt, the thieves will attempt to cash out more of their stolen and laundered cryptocurrency for some sort of fiat currency. Robison is still hopeful that, despite their use of mixers, they can be further identified at that point. “I think they probably will be successful in cashing out at least some of these funds. I think whether they're going to get away with it is a separate question,” says Robison. “There's already a blockchain trail to be followed, and I think that trail will only become clearer with time.”

Two other cryptocurrency tracing firms, TRM Labs and Chainalysis, have both been hired by FTX's new regime under CEO John Ray III to aid in the investigation. TRM Labs declined to comment on the case. Chainalysis didn’t respond to WIRED’s request for comment, nor did FTX itself.

As those cryptocurrency tracers continue to follow the money, we may someday have a clearer answer to the mystery of the FTX heist. In the meantime, however, FTX's many aggrieved creditors will be left to keep one eye on Bankman-Fried's trial and the other on the Bitcoin blockchain.

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rosetheex-editor · 11 months ago

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[Begin transcript audio.]

[Rhythmic metallic banging is immediately heard. These noises continue for an extended period of time]

[Distant, but apparent footsteps approach, until the banging is suddenly stopped and replaced with a more muted, thudded noise]

?: What?

[Voice identified: Rose.]

?: Would you mind not slamming your head into my hand. I am trying to prevent you from further damaging your forehead.

[Voice unidentifiable.]

[The thudding stops.]

R: Dude. Move your hand please?

?: Your forehead is bleeding. I see no reason to allow you to continue this self-destructive behavior.

R: Reason one. Gets me out of the mall fast.

?: Death is not an escape. That is a coward’s way out. You are better than that.

R: Debatable. But I'll hear you out.

?: Glad to hear it. What is that, a metal implant in there? How much can you feel there?

R: In my head?

?: Your forehead in general. Showfall sometimes half-asses implants.

R: It's from the doctor's. But to answer your question, the nerves in my forehead… And like top of my head in general are dead because Mai was a dumbass. You could rip my hair out and I wouldn't feel shit.

?: I see. Very interesting.

[There is a momentary pause.]

?: I am sorry about your arm. Was it your dominant one?

R: Yeah um… Yeah.

?: Shame. You know, I was taught to be ambidextrous. I can try and help with some basic exercises, if you would like.

R: Uh sure… So how are you?

?: I survive. Do you have a pen and paper with you?

R: I uh… Yeah?

?: Good. We can start with the training then. Your handwriting was semi-cursive, correct?

[Rustling of papers]

?: Start with a simple “O“

R: Ok?

[More papers rustling, seemingly as Rose draws what W asked.]

?: Good. Now can you try an “R”

[Rose does the same thing.]

?: Good. It probably feels weird not being able to hold the paper down, so try and use the flat end of your palm, or the bottom of your wrist, to make sure the paper doesn’t drag.

[Rose can be heard doing that as well.]

?: You should work on straight lines, yours are a bit sloppy. Hesitate less, move quickly and with intention.

R: Why are we doing this now? Like… Why today?

?: I would like to imagine that keeping you occupied will prevent self harm in the future. It is a trick I learned myself. Practicing this will help your mind above water.

R: Dude… Why me? Why are you helping me?

?: Why not. I can stop if you would prefer.

R: No it's fine… Just confused is all.

?: I too yearn for answers. But sometimes life is unfair. Sometimes the truth is obscured, and we must depend on ourselves to fill in the blanks. But in all honesty, I am slowly accepting this reality. The confusion of it all. Does that make sense?

R: Yeah… Yeah kinda.

?: Good. You always had a knack for understanding others. Never lose that. It is a trait I wish I had possessed many years ago.

R: Yeah uh… Can I ask you something?

?: Truth is the currency of tomorrow. Ask away.

R: Have you ever wished for a different life? One where things weren't so difficult? Where those you love are alive…

[Papers are put away.]

?: I would not be human if I did not hope for betterment. But I do not know what I would do if I ever achieved it. I feel it is part of our human condition. To want more. But do not allow that to blind you to what is truly important. Is that answer satisfactory?

R: Yeah… Yeah um it is.

?: Good. Keep at it then. Keep yourself sane. Is there anything else you would like to discuss, or can I trust you to not deface your forehead any longer?

R: Actually one thing… You like the concept of time?

?: Oh yes, I find it fascinating. Especially when put in terms of how the mind perceives it. Depending on your perspective, time can be fast, fluid, like water, or it can hit you all at once, like a brick. It marches forward towards eternity, but as it does so, never once have I felt left behind. I have had good times, and bad times, but there is always a time to be had. I learn, I grow, I mature, I die. Life repeats. It is a source of comfort.

R: Hm… Interesting, there have been times I have felt… Left behind, I have to remind myself time waits for no one… To keep going, or try… The concept of eternal time has always fascinated me.

?: Mechanical hands are the ruler of everything. You must learn to continue on, no matter what. Go slow if you would like, but never stop.

R: Yeah… God I've been saying that alot.

?: You are tired. Get some rest. Continue practicing handwriting. Survive. I will be where you would expect. Oh, and probably turn off the recording device on your phone.

[Footsteps echo in the opposite direction.]

R: Showfall I hate you so much.

[End transcript.]

#((OOC) TW unreality.)#showfall ask blog #encoreverse blog #rose

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rattyexplores · 2 years ago

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Sand dollars, the currency of the Sea

Yet another simple creature that can be found shifting through the sands. Again, watch where you step.

Unidentified, Superorder Luminacea

15/06/22

#Luminacea #sand dollars #Neognathostomata #Irregularia #Euechinoidea #Echinodermata #Echinozoa #Echinoidea

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stellarskyes · 2 years ago

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Ok, so most of you will probably find this super boring, but I'm gonna post about it anyway. (Also, when I type boring, my phone recommends 🪴. I don't know what that's about)

I wanna share something funny I saw in an ETF prospectus, but first I'm gonna do a quick rundown of some stuff so everyone knows wtf that is.

So I'm sure everyone is at least vaguely familiar with the stock market.

(At this point, I'm just gonna cover my ass with a disclaimer. I'm not a financial advisor. I'm not giving advice. If anything here causes you to lose money, it's not my fault. Always do your own due diligence before investing. Ok, moving on.)

Companies sell shares which you can buy and sell. When the company does well, the value of the shares goes up. When they do poorly, the value goes down. You can gain or lose money by buying or selling these shares. (This is an oversimplification, but it's the general idea.)

So what's an ETF? (This will also be an oversimplification.) There are certain companies that buy shares of various companies and put them into special funds called exchange traded funds (ETFs). You can then trade shares of these funds the same way you would shares of companies, essentially investing in multiple companies at once. (If you've seen commercials for Invesco QQQ, that's an ETF. Invesco is the company that maintains the fund)

Some ETFs use different strategies to decide which companies to include, when to add or remove certain companies, etc. There are various risks involved and a small percentage of the money invested goes to maintaining the fund and paying the people who work on it. To share this info with investors, an ETF has what's called a prospectus: a document that details all kinds of stuff you should think about before investing.

The funny thing about a prospectus, is that it includes every risk. Every single one. Most are things you'd expect, like another global pandemic could make companies lose money, or tariffs or currency exchange rates could cause problems for a company in another country. Some though are a bit more off the wall.

Now for what I wanted to post about. There's an ETF that invests only in companies involved in space-related business. In its prospectus, it specifically lists UFOs as a potential risk.

[Image text: Unidentified Aerial Phenomena ("UAP") Risk —A UAP, formerly known as an "unidentified flying object" or "UFO", is a flying object that looks or moves unlike any known aircraft used by the US or any foreign country. Recently, the US military has acknowledged the existence of UAPs and confirmed the authenticity of certain videos and images purporting to show UAPs. Given that currently there is no identification of these observed phenomena, it is possible that UAPs could create unintentional or deliberate operational, data security, "cyber" and other interference with the operation of satellites and other objects in space. Such activities could result in a significant adverse impact on the Fund's securities, thereby causing the Fund's investment in such portfolio securities to lose value and adversely affecting the Fund's ability to fulfill its investment objectives.]

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading my rambling and have a lovely day 😊.

#finance #stock market #etfs #ufo

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u4gmpoe2currency · 3 days ago

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path of exile 2 gold for sale Guide

In *poe 2 gold for sale* (POE 2), understanding **basic currency** is essential for upgrading gear, trading, and crafting. Here’s a quick guide to the most common **poe 2 basic currency** types and how to use them effectively.

Key Basic Currency Types in POE 2

1. **Scrolls of Wisdom**: Used to identify unidentified items, allowing you to see their attributes. 2. **Portal Scrolls**: Instantly open a portal to town, providing quick access to restock or sell items mid-mission.

3. **Orb of Transmutation**: Upgrades a normal item to a magic item, adding additional affixes for a stronger effect.

4. **Orb of Augmentation**: Adds an extra affix to a magic item, further enhancing its attributes.

5. **Orb of Alteration**: Re-rolls a magic item’s affixes, allowing you to customize your gear for specific builds.

Tips for Using Basic Currency

- **Save Your Scrolls**: Only identify high-value items to save Scrolls of Wisdom. - **Trade for Upgrades**: Basic currency items are useful for low-level crafting and trading with other players.

For more currency deals in *buy path of exile 2 gold*, visit U4GM to boost your gameplay and prepare for the challenges ahead.

#POE 2

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egressparadox · 18 days ago

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Define the CIA

the " current intervention agency"

THE FIVE DIRECTORATES

The Directorate of Digital Innovation . Unicorn The Directorate of Analysis . Sterope The Directorate of Operations . Arion The Directorate of Support . Hippocampus The Directorate of Science and Technology . Pegasus

INTERNAL OVERSIGHT HEADED BY 3 - "CEREBUS" . branch 12/0 . phenomena, and paradox . rogue factors .

DIVIDED INTO 11 BRANCHES

THE NEMEAN LION . the unbreakable trophy . domestic propaganda

THE LERNAEAN HYDRA . the boundless enemy . numbers are its venom … ideology / destruction of ideology. foreign propaganda

THE GOLDEN HIND . bargaining for the seal of forbidden evils

THE ERYMANTHEAN BOAR . wild things , the uncivilized and powerful

THE AUGEAN STABLES . ecological power housing . dams and bridges

THE STYMPHLIAN BIRDS . aiding the undeveloped, against a leagues greater enemy

THE CRETAN BULL . rape trafficking rings

THE HORSES OF DIOMEDES . apocalypse organizers

HIPPOLYTES BELT . the art of the coup

THE CATTLE OF GERYON . theft of unrealized powers

THE APPLES OF HESPERIDES . forbidden knowledge …………. 715 per, 8580 total .

13115 , *12

/////////////

the radical Christian (representative) collection . usurped by mask tribe

the amalgamate . directory 1 . useful undesirables

satyr . mind . innovation

unicorn . body . true mule

cockatrice . spirit . propaganda artist

the dead plague . directory 2 . "hands off war" . ……………. the judgment of nations . directory 3 . "hands on war" . ……………. titans of the industry.

Leviathan . head directory 2

Behemoth . head directory 3

Zephiram . lead head directorate

Nephilim . head directory 1

/////// THE CIA .V. ROGUE CIA .V. IMPERSONATION CIA THE EXTRAVOGANZA FROM THE 50s

HIJACKING THE GAMES ESTABLISHED BY THE FASCISTS COME TO ROOST IN AMERICA . . . COMPLETION OF THE OPPERATION , MEANS THE CONTRACTUAL DISSOLUTION OF THE CIA

THE FINANCING OF : THE NAZI PARTY . quantum radical war effort, to extradite and exacerbate the development of warcraft and science. "clutched pearls" THE COLD WAR . "failure to act" upon the secret regime of Stalin , secures Soviet labor . and then , the boons of Russia the "white Africa" CRACK EPIDEMIC . escalation of gang violence in African American communities . south American and African American "omicron" pinch economy or "chain link" THE AIDS CRISIS . alienation of the gay community into the hands of drug dealers 4CHAN PIPELINE . the development of echo chambers , the self maintenance of the undesirable , being either un rehabilitate able , or the self branding radical outfit against , the emergence of crypto currency (radical) and the satire radical (unrulable and distracting)

THE GAME OF THE FASCIST AMERICAN ELITE , HINGING THE AMERICAN ECONOMIC WHEEL , ON ITS OWN CAPITAL TRUST PROJECT ABROAD

creating the demand for and finally stealing the product of developments made in secret , regarding technology , the economic powers of the undesirables , its hijacking, by those branded as CIA . the mission statement is as follows: 1. maintenance and identification of the entire "octopus" so as to make it seem unabducted 2. grooming the hysterical rogue within any given branch, to allow a natural and controlled growth of the "octopus" 3. the elite performance before the unidentifiable and competitive regimes from the fall of the Soviet Union

By stealing the plan, and playing along accordingly , the impact is severely limited , the economy may continue on and strong , upon its conclusion , the international fallout of the Nazi party, and subsequent actors before the fascist regime will make themselves known, Before the immediate benefactor and facilitator to the plot , the CIA . countered by , an unbreakable silence to the plot , as seeded into political succession , a boon , to the unknowledgeable successor .

the initial outburst of the CIA is to facilitate the fascist American plot , Usurped outright. the (new) CIA now balances itself against rogues , and must balance the implicit upset that is the emergence of a neo-fascist movement of CIA impersonators.

//////////////////////////PRINTS OF PERSIA//////////////////////////

"the FBI will "force our hand" , into war, with just ONE of these radical regimes unrecognized , and it will last for an age. for this period , we will anticipate foot soldiers of the other banners to throw themselves at this war, they will call us traitor for this, and heretic for our vulgar display of brutality. we will shackle these agent martyrs, who will not know themselves as martyr. there will be no Geneva convention. we will call this for what it is, and that is Indictive of some "small" American Reich, and it is internal . our culprit? one "Saddam Hussein" . its in the only figures to be pulled by teeth and with pliers , that we enrich this nation in the middle east , who will remain classified , only for him to take the reigns from beneath of the carriage." "we pay them every cent , and hold Husseins hands on the reigns , and we will return with a mountain of gold, unspendable"

manifest:

identify; radicals , golden companies , and agents within

follow the initial sum of money

sabotage the illicit funds , and ring their alarm

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