Self Conceit [Community Story Arc RP Thread]

[chase]

Brickstown

Tabby's Apartment Building
1830

 

“Effin battery” Tabby cursed to herself as she navigated the streets of Brickstown.  Normally, she’d be running through the shadows, jumping from shadowy corner to rooftop to poorly-lit alleyway just so she’d be avoided.   Today, though, every one of those spots seemed to be occupied by one crime faction or another, lying in wait for something.   Staying on the sidewalks was far less likely to draw attention.

Normally, she’d use the fire escape to slip into her room, but she caught sight of a silhouette moving under it and opted for the stairs this time.   Today, the stairs seemed a more prudent option.  

She glanced over at the mailbox to see if the sign had changed.   Still “Tabby- Alli Kat.”  *Still gonna be the butt of that joke.*   The mailbox door seemed slightly ajar, though, and she didn’t even need a key to open it.   

She nearly fell backward seeing the toy truck’s packaging and receipt.  She’d paid cash,

*nobody could have traced it back to me unless they were wa… * 

She read the note… well, the first line at least.  

It’s really difficult not to panic when someone tells you not to.   It’s even harder not to look around.

She very stiffly gathered up the mail, kept her head facing directly forward, and sidestepped to the stairwell, unlocked the security door, and climbed them with all the grace of a robot until clear of view, then ran to her room, safe.

Wait, no… there’s another note taped to her door.  They made it this far too?

“To Our Little Grey Girl Garfield”

Mrs DeMocco.   Geeze, that lady was was saccharine sweet and nothing but friendly to the neighbors,  but her choice of term of endearment for Tabby couldn’t have hit a more raw nerve.  That, and her touchy-feely-friendliness, trying to pet her like she was some sort of cat.   She never just left a simple note like a post-it.  She reused  pretty-pictured greeting cards with the original message crossed out.  This one, for example, seemed to originally be for a Bar mitzva.

Not only did her nickname constantly reference her diminutive size and catgirl status, but GARFIELD?  Come on- a male orange grumpy striped cat?  What’d they even have in common, aside from stripes?  She grumbled incoherently to herself and opened the card.  She was just too much.

“Making lasagna this weekend.  Make room in your freezer for two trays.”

God, she adored that woman.   She’d run an Italian restaurant in this town for decades.  When she was nervous, she still distracted herself with cooking, and when she was REALLY nervous, she reverted back to her restaurant-sized batches then shared them out to family and friends.   With most of her kids and grandkids now out-of-state, her neighbors often got phone calls of “guess what? you’re getting two dozen cannoli! I ran out of space!” at odd hours of the day.  Night too.  Living this close to the zig made Mrs. DeMocco very nervous very often.

She did a little dance in the hall before going inside.   Her fridge was so empty she’d considered unplugging it to save the electricity.  

Should she tell Mrs Democco she could take more than two?

Oh, right! The other note!

She read it over.  Then read it again.

She’s being tracked through her phone? 

Ditch the phone?  Ditch it and use what? Buy another WITH WHAT?  

*This heroing gig is really not good for my pocketbook*.

She suppressed her first impulse ( to take a pic of the phone and message her friend RT to see if that crap’s possible).   Her second impulse too (to ask her digital assistant where she could buy a burner phone).   

Instead, she let the phone power down and buried it away.  She pulled out two pre-approved credit cards from the pile of mail- just in case one didn’t work, and headed off to the nearest corner store to get one of the prepaid phones.   It was hard to NOT worry about being watched though.  She did her best to leave the same as she came in (walking more robotically than a nemesis automaton) and tried to behave as naturally as possible, but natural didn’t come to her easily, and her mind kept going over parts of the note.

*Make me collateral? I kinda hope my note-writer meant that as a warning- that LONGBOW wasn’t afraid of making me collateral damage, not a threat (“I’m not afraid to make you collateral.”)  For that matter, I kinda hope they DO mean collateral damage and not something like using me as partial payment for the dagger… I’ve seen that kinda stuff in the fanfic before and I didn’t think to check if the authors were with Longbow or Vanguard or whatever.*

She was overthinking, to be sure.  Only so much could fit on the back of a receipt.  That explained the wording.  That was all this was. Or was it. Is that what someone in the spy trade wanted her to think?  Is that what she was doing?

It was gonna be a long walk to the meeting point.

Edited June 20, 2020 by chase

[Terminal]

Brickstown

 20:00

Tabby Meets a Shady Character

 

Tabby wasn't entirely sure she'd found the right place - the new phone wasn't nearly as feature-rich as her old one, so maybe she'd been doing something wrong. The location given seemed to be below the surface of a parking lot- it took her a few minutes to find the ramp leading down.   A small sheltered area underground, full of trash, an old shopping cart, and a wall full of Freakshow Graffiti.

She scanned over the area- the dim lighting wasn't a problem for her feline eyes, but she also blinked, trying to let her aura sight identify anything her eyes couldn't.   With all the chaos at the zig so nearby, though, the air seemed to be full of artifacts clouding that sense.  

 

She hugged the wall and worked around the perimeter, wondering if she had gotten here before her contact.

 

The question was answered when an electronically distorted voice asked her a piercing question she had been on the receiving end of too many times from all the wrong people.

"Are those ears functional?" The voice came from nowhere Tabby could discern - the sound of it seemed to originate directly in front of her head, making it all the more disconcerting to process.

 

The ears flattened almost immediately, but to Tabby's credit, she only took one step back before firing off, "When I get questions like that, I kinda wish they weren't,"  She said, crossing her arms defenseively.

 

"I am asking for a reason. Do you know their exact frequency sensitivity range?" The voice seemed to have followed her short backpedal - it seemed to originate the exact same distance from her as before.

 

"Not scientifically measured, no, but I can tell you that it goes higher than human.  Those damn 'anti barking' ultrasonic things everyone's pointing at their neighbor's pets drive me friggin bonkers."

 

"Then this may require some trial and error. Respond immediately if what you hear is painful or debilitating in any way."

 

As soon as the voice finished speaking, the entire underground space filled with a haze of static-laden white noise - to a human it would have been barely audible.

Tabby's ears remain folded down and she quickly moves her hands over them, shouting back, "It doesn't hurt, but it's a bit LOUD."

 

"How's this?" The upper range of the white noise receded substantially. "Please do not shout, we do not need unwanted attention."

 

"I can deal." she said a more sensible volume.  "Sorry."

 

"Why did you contact Burned Feather?" The voice asked her, its owner seemingly having decided that the time for cardial exchange was over.

 

Tabby had prepared something snarky and clever for this moment, but she totally blanked. "The dagger of Jocas.  Why else?  I... um... work at the Midnighter archives."

 

"The Midnighters tasked you with taking it from her?" The voice, synthetically garbled as it was, did not quite sound incredulous. Quite.

 

"They didn't have to task me.   It disappeared under my watch." 

 

"And the one Burned Feather claims to have is the Praetorian version, not the one you lost. I ask again. Why did you contact Burned Feather?"

 

Tabby grew a little flustered at being so easily read, "Look, you know what the dagger of Jocas is- you know what it can do. Now there are suddenly TWO of them out in play at once?  TWO? Double the hazard - Lord knows what's possible if they were to be brought together. It's not something I'd want on my conscience!"  Well, Tabby hoped the disembodied voice knew what the dagger would do, because she speed-read that chapter. 

 

"What is your intent then? To steal the dagger from Burned Feather?"

 

Tabitha's tail went from thrashing to curling around her leg. She really hadn't planned exactly what to do once she got in.  "Maybe. Watch first. Assess the threat. Maybe Burned Feather won't be bringing the daggers together. Maybe I can just stay close and keep it safer. Maybe Burned Feather will need separated from the dagger. Not much you can get off a tiny video."

 

Tabitha knew that mentioning her personal interest in the dagger up front may not go over well, but she also knew that sometimes a bit of truth helps cover lies.  "Look, I was THIS CLOSE to a cure for my condition using the last dagger when it slipped away.  Maybe I can continue my research with this one- maybe."

 

"You would necessarily give the Dagger to the Midnighters for safekeeping while doing so." The distorted voice proposed - the statement had the air of a question. But it had not sounded inquisitive.

 

"If that's where it's safest. I can't exactly keep it at my apartment."

 

"Then you will suffice. We are requisitioning your assistance with tracking down Burned Feather, determining the veracity of her claims, and retrieving the Dagger if she does have it." The electronic distortion in the voice did nothing to mask the underlying confidence in its own statement.

 

Tabitha did not like the tone- she got it- she didn't have much confidence in her own ability to bring this together, but she really didn't like hearing it from them.  "So, why would I want to work with you here?  I'm the one sticking my neck out. What do I get out of this 'requisition?'"

 

"We will start with the carrots before using the sticks." The voice began - discouragingly. "The first reason - skipping over that as a hero you should be pleased to assist us in recovering the Dagger from the hands of a known Criminal and suspected murderer - is that if we are not the ones to recover it, it will almost certainly be either Longbow or else another criminal element that gains control of it. Do you want that?"

 

This was probably first time that someone used the term "hero" to describe her- outside of her case worker. Catgirl, yes. Annoying little b**h, all the time. Hero? It had a nice ring to it, but it didn't ring true to her. *I'm just a college kid with a hair problem. How'd I get in this mess?*

 

"Well, I was already planning on securing it and was waiting to judge the next steps from there. It's not like you're altering my plans too much, anyway. What do you bring to the table, besides high-tech acoustics and surveillance?"

 

"We can eliminate Burned Feather if the worst comes to pass." The voice paused briefly. "By eliminate we mean apprehend, of course. We considered nullify but it sounded weird and mitigate would have been inaccurate."

 

She thought about acting tough - some sort of posturing that she could handle that - but she probably couldn't pull off that with any confidence. It sounded like at the worst she had to gain access, grab, and run. That was probably for the best.

 

"Ok, how do I get ahold of you?"

 

"We will make a series of temporary accounts for your..."

 

There was a substantial pause before the voice carried on.

 

"...fan site. You may send us messages there through proxy accounts of your own, using a different account each time, and-" The voice went on like this for nearly a minute and a half.

"Wonderful. More faceless trolls. You'll fit right in."

 

"The disreputable nature of the site is to our advantage. It is not heavily monitored or policed by agencies also after the dagger. Like Longbow." The voice commented, though it was hard to tell how serious the speaker was being due to the distortion.

 

"Ok, I take it I'm not going to get your name, then."

 

"The less you know before this operation concludes, the more likely our chances of success. You will be able to be more honest if questioned - and have less to reveal to mind readers." The voice replied.

 

*Mind readers!*  Tabby hadn't even thought about the possibility - Praetoria had been known for its seers, and this was a Praetorian version of the dagger.   A shiver caused her fur to ruffle in a wave, then settle. "Yeah, um... mind readers. Not a big fan of those."

 

"Have you procured a new phone yet?" The voice asked abruptly. 

 

She tapped the shoulder-wallet that carried the ugly brick.  "Just a prepaid burner, for now."

 

"It will do. There is a thumb-drive in the trashbag over there. Insert it into the phone. Keep in touch with the email address Burned Feather sent out. We will monitor and advise."

 

She dug through the trashbag searching fo the thumb drive, "Oh, and one more thing - the accounts you make on the Tabby Tracker - please don't post anything, and if you have to to establish cred, not anything humiliating... and if you win any free pizza coupons, they're mine."

 

"We intend to contribute nothing but identical reposts to banned accounts." The voice offered. Another pause. "That may or may not involve humiliating content, but if it does, it will at least not be new."

 

"Great." she mumbled, mostly to herself as she held up the now-found thumbdrive. "Well, there won't be any free pizzas out of this deal, then."  Hooking the drive into the phone, she commented, "glad I went with the burner and not another high end phone.  Pretty sure this'd void the warranty."

 

The white noise in the background abruptly shut off.

 

"I guess that means this is over." she shrugged, both relieved and disappointed. Her first real clandestine encounter.  "I'm not exactly sure what I expected, but that wasn't it."  She scanned around the area one more time for any sign of anyone, then slipped up the ramp.

[chase]

Talos Island
After the events of "Whatever Happened to the Warrior"
Misosazai and Tabby

The strange turns in Misosazai’s life just kept getting stranger.   How else could she explain leaving in a warrior warehouse with a catgirl and a hero-hunter carrying a bunch of maybe-magical knickknacks.  A hero-hunter that apparently knew more about her mom than she did.

She’d had a few days to recover from her last encounter with the warriors.  Meditation and biofeedback only go so far- her ribs were still somewhat sensitive with dim green and purple bruising still fading away, but the shiner and split lip were nearly gone and a distant memory.   Even the slice on her arm was crusting over slightly.  

*Mom knew her stuff, I guess*

Before the events of the past few days, she hadn’t used the techniques for anything worse than a sprain or bruise, but things did seem to be progressing much faster than they normally would.

Someone with an ounce of sense would have shied away from the Warriors after that rather than go hunting for a rematch.   Martial combat had been part of her life since she’d been in diapers- something had been off with the way they fought and the results they got with them.   I ate at her and she wanted to expose them as cheaters in some tournament.   Magic artifacts or not- if you want to be the best, you don’t resort to gimmicks. 

Yeah, it sounded strange to be hunting them for “cheating” in street warfare, she had to admit, but no stranger than her partner in this raid.   The catgirl- Tabby- just said she was trying to impress someone, and that someone held the warriors in high regard.   She needed to be seen as better than them.   Heck, she even asked M to stay out of a few fights just to take pictures of her besting them.

*Some girls do crazy things to impress guys, I guess.  Catgirls are no exception.*

She had to admit, though, the furry knew her stuff- better at stealth than anything she’d ever done, and turning more than a few warriors to writhing piles of pain and profanity with a single well-placed strike.  She was a bit taken aback when she realized that the potent technique wasn’t based on anything more than an inappropriate Japanese kids’ prank.

*Cats do love to play with their prey… it probably goes double for catgirls.  Not enough to beat them, she had to humiliate them.  I just hope whoever she’s trying to impress is into freaky stuff, because she’s a special kind of weird.*

Between her own showboat style of combat and the catgirls’ sneak attacks they had made short work of the warriors together, and that was even before they ran into Crimson Revenant.

The Revenant had called her Kirasu.  Her mother’s name.  Said he’d thought rumors of her death were overblown.   “Was wondering if I’d ever face with one of South America’s  Five Knives.   Two, if the rumors are accurate.  What’s it been? Ten? Almost twenty years since you abandoned that fight?”   After studying her a bit longer, he recognized her error, “No, you’re her whelp, aren’t you?” then paused with a strangely sincere “Condolences on your loss.”

During the conversation Tabby had been maneuvering into position to send Crimson a very special present, but she’d waved her off.  Crimson Revenant didn’t even turn to face her when he added, “Careful cat.  I’ve tamed the Tigress, I’ll do more than that to you.

Tabby seemed to ready with a retort, thought better of it, started again… stopped, and then moved to position herself against the next Warrior patrol.

It was a strange trio but the three of them swept the warehouse clear, uncovering stolen valuables from the raid and a strange cache separate from the others.  One of the warriors was kind enough to explain, enthusiastic, even, once Crimson Revenant suggested he could give the catgirl some pointers to make her sneak attack more potent using the warrior as a practice dummy.  He’d much rather talk to keep the catgirl away from his backside:

Odysseus had a new relic- some sort of Tarot card deck, and it was believed that the stuff in the reliquary may somehow power the deck further… or the deck would activate the relics… or something of that nature.   It wasn’t entirely clear, except that keeping those things away from the deck would be in everyone’s best interest.

He also shared that they’d captured some heroes during the battle and already sent many of them to be sold off.   To Crimson Revenant, this seemed to be disturbingly matter-of-fact and he didn’t bother to stick around to discuss it further, leaving just Misosazai and Tabby.

“I… I don’t even HAVE an medical teleporter to malfunction,” Misosazai nervously admitted.   “I’m not registered.”

The catgirl seemed genuinely concerned, “Ok, change in plans, rather than me take these relics to the midnighters- YOU haul it and your ass to city hall and give them to MAGI, then get your ass registered, kid.”

Misosazai refused- she was too afraid of being wisked away by the system, out of the city and back into foster care.   It was still possible that Ryk was out there.  She wouldn’t give up on him, nor would she give up on the fight she found herself in now.

After a few heated minutes, Tabitha gave up. 

“Fine, then take mine.  I'll deliver the relics, report my teleporter broken, and get another one.  Just… just be careful and try not to use it. I’m not sure if that thing’s tied to any biosignature or anything, and you don’t want to wake in the hospital with cat ears and a tail.”

[Sidhe Vicious]

Brickstown
23:15

 

"It couldn't hurt."

"That's what you said last time."

"What's the worst-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm gonna boil your amygdala out through your ears."

"Duly noted..."

Psychlone sat in a pizza joint in Brickstown, munching on a slice of 'Paragon Garbage Pie.'  Not bad, really.  Her erstwhile conversation partners, two PPD officers and a rather unlucky cashier, stood staring at her blankly.

 

"Still.  Leverage."

"That's right." The trio chorused in unison, in the exact same cadence and tone of Psychlone's voice.  "Get the dagger.  Sell it. Use it.  Whatever you choose, It could keep the heat off of us."

"Or drive it straight towards us." She pondered, chewing on the crust. "Still...Could be fun.  What was that about a...Burning bird?"

One of the officer's robotically marched over, showing her his phone.  The video played.

---------------------------------

"Oh, that's fun... Do you think we should say hi?"

"What about the Cat?"

"Is the Cat even real?  I'm just getting flashes.  It's like the Troll in the therapy group that you said wanted to kill us."

 

"He was thinking it."

"Still...Eh, keep an eye out.  Use her too if it comes to it.  Oh, and box some of this for the road, would you?"

Edited June 21, 2020 by Sidhe Vicious

[PresidentDSG]

Quote

 

HenchCo: Your First Choice For Hired Help

6/16/2020

To: Helen Baker <[email protected]>

From: Doctor Thaddeus Brayne

Subject: What the Hell?

 

Helen,

 

Okay, someone screwed the pooch because something is going on and I had no idea!

 

David hadn't sent in his monthly bill, as usual, and so I went on to repossess. Sort it out, you know, the usual stuff.

 

Imagine my surprise when a bunch of heroes showed up to fight the Warriors too, and imagine my further surprise when, as I pushed into the compound, everyone seems to be talking about tremendous feats of martial skill the Warriors, of all people, have apparently been performing! And as we went in, we even found proof to back it up... Citadel and Luminary, in critical condition! I wasn't able to get a scan of those high-value targets, but my eyes were good enough to see what had been done. Our net's got too many big holes in it if something on this scale slipped us by.

 

Arachnos' Barracuda was also on the scene, and god only knows what she was after. It doesn't really matter, though, because we're going to get to the bottom of all of this nonsense. Apparently it's not even just the Warriors;  Hellions have been up to something to. Hellions. We don't even sell to the Hellions, they're that inconsequential, and they're part of some big power play? This does not add up.

 

Starting immediately, Information Acquisition is going to shift focus to finding out what's going on, and how we can benefit. I'll be taking point on field operations relating to this. I'm trusting you to hold the ship steady at the homefront. If I need your talents in the field, I'll be sure to send the order.

 

For now, I'll leave the heroes to chase the scraps and save the day and whatnot. I'll lean on the bigger fish we've got our contracts with.

 

 

It had been hours ago that he sent that message, and ever since Doctor Brayne had spent his time devouring whatever information he could get his hands on. It was here he had learned about Prometheus and the man's announcement- It had quite frankly been an embarrassment that such wide news had passed him by completely. He had learned about the Family assaults on a variety of places throughout the city... Something to keep in mind for later. He had dealt with the Family int he past, of course, and if he needed to he could probably contact them again.

 

No, the thing that interested him the most was a massive prison breakout, organized by the supposedly helpless Upstart. Here was where the most interesting developments were going; Truces formed and broken, constant raids and assaults... 

 

There was potential.

 

Doctor Brayne did not need to hide as he moved through the city, despite his imposing mechanical frame and that signature brain on full display. After all, he was simply a businessman. And none of the charges the PPD levied against him or his company ever tended to stick. A few tricks pulled from a brief partnership with Crey. The situation in the Zig had upset the PPD throughout the city, and despite his legal innocence his approach to PPD headquarters in King's Row were met with no small amount of resentment and distrust.

 

He reveled in the nervousness of the cops, no doubt worried if he had arrived to make a bad situation worse. Lack of a face meant no one could see the cocky, stupid grin he felt as he made his way forward, as he approached the front desk where a nervous, overwhelmed clerk tried his level best to keep things running smoothly. Brayne approached the man's desk and rested his weight against it and patiently waited to be acknowledged.

 

"I need to speak with your chief. It seems that the PPD could use some reinforcements! Luckily, HenchCo is rolling out some crisis rates that are somewhat reasonable! Just for our boys in blue!" 

 

It would hurt to give such a huge discount to a big customer, but it would be worth it to get an in.

 

[Terminal]

King's Row

Doctor Brayne Makes a New Acquaintance 

 

Brayne was not kept waiting long before an officer wearing an actual suit rather than a uniform came to meet him and invited him to their office - a Detective Freitag. 

 

"Look here doctor. It's not that we do not appreciate your offer - but you must also understand things work a bit differently here in the civilized world than out in the Etoiles. There are actual laws that matter. Amongst other things, the Police of any municipality are not allowed to broker deals or negotiate with criminals, or criminal organizations. It is, in fact, illegal. So forgive us if we don't exactly drown you in confetti and champagne for your generosity."

 

Him pulling a pack of cigarettes out from his desk and offering one to Brayne was his indication that the conversation was not quite over.

 

"Of course, what's illegal for the police isn't necessarily out of the question for the City itself. Have you considered offering your services to Mayor Morale's office? Because I won't deny, even though I hate your guts, we are in a position where we could use your help. And I also won't deny I would enjoy your inevitable betrayal since doing it here and now would be the best way to put you away forever. Your people have a way with the courts, but I doubt that will do you the same favors when the DA and Judges have 'guidance' right from the top to bury you." 

[Terminal]

The Internet

 

Shortly after Tabitha had met with her mysterious, clandestine contact - the same group of 'enthusiasts' who had managed to crack the Family's ultimatam video analyzed and dissected Burned Feather's video.

 

They posted their conclusions and data online on various forums - revealing that the entire video was an elaborate fake, using impressive CGI and visual editing. According to the video's embedded Metadata, it had not even been filmed in First Ward at all - but specifically in a wooded area of Talos Island where Devouring Earth in the distance would have lent to the authenticity of the video.

 

The whole line of interest in the Praetorian Dagger of Jocas - which it now seemed likely to not even exist - had been an elaborate charade, made for some obscure and unknowable purpose. 

 

---

 

Elsewhere...

Tabby Gets a Text Message

Tabby would shortly receive a text message from an unlisted number.

 

Burned Feather Video turned out to be a big fake. Check online.

We no longer require your services.

This device will cease functioning 30 seconds after you open this text message.

 

As the mysterious contact promised - the prepaid phone, with a sad little popping noise, completely bricked itself 30 seconds later - the internal circuitry and memory both having burned themselves out, probably due to a failsafe installed on the phone by the contact's thumb drive.

[chase]

Talos Island

Tabby

 

Of course, Tabitha's phone buzzed at the least inopportune time- she hadn't had it long enough to figure out all the bells and whistles- like muting all the bells and I-hope-to-god-there-are-no-real whistles. She had just snuck into place with a particularly scarred up hewer who also heard the buzz and turned to face her while she was still mid-cast.    

 

What could she do?  She smiled innocently, cut the energy-build-up early, and shoved right below the belt buckle.

 

*Note to self: Almost as effective from the front as the behind.   May need to re-evaluate retiring this move.*

 

As the hewer crumpled and curled into a tight fetal position, she checked her phone.

 

"Hold that pose, please, this might be important."

 

"F**k! .... What? No NoNonononononononono" (fizzle), "Goddamn, this hero thing doesn't pay."

 

She squatted down in front of the the warrior.  "Lemme guess,  You don't know anything about the selling off of kidnapped heroes.  You don't know what part of your group arranges that stuff, and you've never been directly involved like the others, right?"

 

He sqeaked something in the affirmative.

"Ok, if I find out you lied, next time I'm not gonna use claws."

 

Her belly grumbled loud enough for both of them to hear.  He flinched.

 

"This is going nowhere.   Tell your friends that this is just the start.   Until everyone's release and recovered, NOBODY sleeps safe."

 

She turned away, frustrated.  Nobody was talking about the kidnapped hero trade- well, beyond bragging that they'd captured some.   They wanted to share the glory, but none of the intel.   She was tired, hungry, and with her phone bricked, she was already suffering the early effects of internet withdrawl.  Her whole plan to recover the Dagger of Jocas was an epic failure.   She needed time to rethink- preferrably with some food- and without her phone to look things up for her, the only place she could think of was a pizza joint in Brickstown.

 

 

[chase]

Brickstown
Nighttime
Tabby and Psychlone (Collaboration)

Moving through the shadows of Brickstown used to be easier, but with the riots going on, most of the shadows seemed occupied by one seedy sort or another.   Not long ago, that was driving Tabby to use the streets, but she was in a particularly sour mood now, so she relished in a chance to knock some of those shadow-dwellers into the light.  With prejudice.

 

Today she'd tapped out her monthly food stipend, went deeper in debt for a new phone, will now need to get ANOTHER new phone, and learned that her great solution for the dagger of Jocas ended up being a dead end.   She SHOULD be really proud of how she looked when fighting the Warriors, but she got there too late to help the kidnapped heroes and couldn't find out ANYTHING to help rescue them.  She was a failure  .

 

This was NOT going to be a good day.

 

Landing on the rooftop of a warehouse, she saw two stunners crouched in the shadows watching a single PPD officer pass by, waiting to pounce.   She slid down behind them, energized a blast to one's backside, then a series of strikes to the second.  They never even had a chance to hit back.

 

It didn't make her feel any better.   Her belly grumbled.

 

The all-night pizzeria should be right ahead.  Normally she'd call for delivery, but no phone, till she could buy a new one.  Normally she'd pay cash, but that was in short supply, and since she's gonna have to use the charge card again anyway for a friggin phone, getting some food seemed a rather trivial goal.  Unfortunately, she couldn't call it in.

 

She stuck to the shadows, hoping to find the place as empty as possible.

 

It wasn't. 

 

Two PPD officers standing completely still, unfocused looks on their faces, while an employee, similarly blank, puts a few slices into a cardboard pizza box.  Of course, of more immediate concern is the woman practically bouncing with excitment at her future meal.  Pale, shaven-headed, a short, thin, slip of a thing...But wearing a hi-vis orange Zigursky jumpsuit, under what definjitely appears to be an unbuckled straitjacket. 

 

"Seriously, do you have any idea how long it's been since I had a pizza?"  The cashier, naturally, doesn't respond, not that it stops the woman from continuing.

"How long was I even in there...Time flies, I guess."

 

It was pretty clear to Tabby that this wasn't just cops playing favorites and giving a captured prisoner a square meal before returning to the zig.   Then again, she might be some high-security criminal chemotherapy kid getting a wish granted... hard to tell, but unlikely.  Her first impulse was to duck back around the building and call for help, but that was thwarted by the bricked phone.   Impulse #2 was to try to flag down one of the heroes helping with the riots, but she'd more likely draw attention from anyone still in the shadows.  Impulse #3 was always the worst impulse.   It was time to get involved.

 

She fished an empty pizza box from the trash, brushed it off, then barrelled in to the door, trying to position herself between the hostages and the prisoner, ready to move at the first sign of hostility "I'd like to talk to the manager! My order's all wrong!"

 

The woman turned around, eyebrows raised.

"Hello, who're you?"  Granted, it didn't sound hostile, just curious.  More alarming was the fact that the woman's mouth hadn't moved at all, nor could Tabby be certain she was actually literally hearing it.

 

Tabitha had a momentary mind-freeze as it sunk in... well, a prolonged mental Fuuuuuuu- a frickin telepath!---uuuuuk.   After far too long of a pause where she looked at the girl, the cops, and the door, she decided she had to answer... or was that someone compelling her to answer... or was that just paranoia... or was it the telepath wanting her to think it's paranoia. 

 

"I'm an idiot.  I mean Tabitha.   Uh.... crazy night to be out isn't it?"

 

"You're the Cat!"  She suddenly broke into a grin, then continued, talking rapidly, the words spilling from her without thought or pause. "I saw you!  Well, not saw you, saw you...I think one of the cops did though?  He keeps throwing that out like it's on a loop, but they said it had something to do with that dagger, and I was all 'hey, I'm interested in the dagger' and now you're here, and you could just be a hallucination, that happens sometimes, or you're here to stop me from thinking." 

She paused, the silence almost deafening after the stream of babble. 

 

"You're not here to stop me from thinking, are you?"

 

Tabitha's first thought was *no, actually, I'm just trying to get myself to think MORE* but figured someone might volunteer to help her, so she scratched that idea.  "No, um...  thinking is good.  I usually encounter people that don't think enough, so it's kinda refreshing.  I was just worried that these other people weren't being allowed to think either. It... um... " she tried to think of a nice way to speak on the girl's level, "it seems kinda mean to do that to others."

 

She looked at the officers and the cashier.   "I mean, workin retail's tough enough, don't you think?"

 

At the same time, she eyed the door again. *I'm so gonna get my mind fried.  so gonna get my mind fried.  Please don't make me talk lolcat or anything. Dammit, stop thinking!*

 

"Lolcat?" She tilted her head, like a dog who just heard an odd noise. "And I guess, I just wanted Pizza."  She shrugged.  "And the dagger.  Can you tell me about the dagger?  Please?"

 

Tabby cringed at the repeat of lolcat. *Yup, she's in my mind.  here comes making every r sound a purr and ending sentences with meow.  My life is over.*  "Um... ok, but why don't we get the pizza and sit down and maybe let the nice police and cashier... um... rest?  Then I'll tell you all I know about the dagger." *which ought to take all of twenty seconds.*  "I've been jonesing for pizza too."

 

"I can do that." The trio of hostages suddenly dropped, falling to the floor.  Did she just...No, Tabby could hear them snoring.  The escapee slid up a chair...Without touching or even looking at it...And sat down.

 

*Well, they won't be able to send reinforcements* Tabby thought as she grabbed the pizza box that the cashier had been filling and took it to the table nearest the chair, opening the box as if presenting a box of jewels for scrutiny.   "Grab it fast.  It's hard for me to not get hair in everything."

 

"Yeah, fur gets everywhere.  And people always stare and want to take pictures for some reason." ...Did she just... She apparently didn't see anything odd about her statement, just eating a slice while looking at the Hero.

 

Tabby grabbed her own slice from the box- she'd pay later, maybe, but really, they should be thankful she's helping defuse the situation. "So, the dagger of Jocas? It's this really old really dangerous artifact that could... well, it could hurt some really powerful stuff, like one time it was used to trap away someone claiming to be a WORLD DESTROYER. That dangerous. It could also be used for good stuff, like magically  fixing my fur problem... and tail problem, and you get the idea.   Anyway, someone stole it, and then someone else pretended to steal a copy of it."

 

She paused for a few bites, got sauce and cheese in her whiskers, but didn't seem to notice.   

 

"Exactly.  I want it." The woman says, casually.  "We could work together!" She perks up, then frowns. "...No, you want to stop me."

 

"What? no! I... um... well, I want it too, but I dunno.  What do you want it for?  Maybe we could share? The important thing is to get it away from bad people."  She thinks back to the odd comment about the pictures and tries to really sell this hard to herself, hoping it could in some way bleed over.

 

"You want the dagger,  I want the dagger- a LOT of people want the dagger.  We're all gonna argue over the dagger... eventually... but the people that currently HAVE this dagger?  They really shouldn't have it.  We... We can agree on that, right? *pleasedon'tfrymybrain*.

 

"Of course they shouldn't have it.  I should have it." She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

"Ok, well, THEY have it? And I can't even find them. Can you?"

 

"I could..." She put her slice of pizza down. "But do you want to stop me from thinking?  They did." She nodded at the unconscious cops.

 

"A lot of guys are scared of women that think.  Doesn't mean they can stop us."

 

"I could keep an ear open.  Eye open.  Brain open. Might get back to you.  You seem alright, even if your inner monologue is very rude."

 

"Yeah, I'm constantly fighting with that thing.   It's rude to me, too." she shrugged, then looked side to side.   Look, the cops... they're not trying to make you stop thinking right now.  You can let everyone here go."

"Well right now they're asleep..." She moves to stand. "I don't have to erase anything do I?  I really don't want to go back."

"I... I get it.  I was in placement for four years and that was a lot better than where you were.   I have no idea what you did to get there, but I'm in no position to stop you.   Just...  remember, people are scared of women that think- doesn't make them bad, just creeps.  Try not to give them something to justify their fears. "

 

She sniggered. "You sound like the doc."

 

Tabitha remembers back to Sister Agatha- her doc, "yeah, sounds like my doc, too sometimes." She wipes her hands on a paper napkin, then says.  "Look, I'm kinda between phones, but I'm guessing you know how to get ahold of me, already, right?"

 

"One second." There was an odd sensation, and frankly rather unpleasant.  Like static feedback screaming through a speaker, a vibrato whining on the edge of hearing.  Tabby got the distinct mental image of fingers raking through her mind and memories.  Then all of a sudden, it stopped.

"Now I can."

 

"Well, umm... ok." She wasn't happy at all with the intrusion or the sensation, but since she'd already assumed that her mind was picked clean, she decided to take it as a win and let this end with a joke.  "I don't know how far back you went there, but ignore that whole emo crap when I was 14.  It was a phase."

"Your what now?"

 

"Perfect. Now how do I get ahold of you?"

 

"Just think about me and I should pick it up if you're in range.  I left a note in there, so I can tell the meat from the static." She tapped the side of her shorn skull. 

 

Tabby's eyes widen at the thought. *Ohboy, not only do I get to be paranoid of photos, but of accidentally broadcasting thoughts to an audience, now*

 

"You don't need to worry about that.  Probably.  Not unless we're real close." Of course she picked that up.  "Aaaaanyway.  I'm gonna take this."  She snatched the pizza box, holding it close, possessively.

 

"You better head out.  I'll make sure nobody takes advantage of our sleeping beauties."

 

"Oh, it was Tabby, right?" She paused on the threshold of the door.

"I prefer Tabitha, but everyone calls me Tabby, even my annoying inner dialogue.  And your name is...?"

 

She thought for a moment, a rather long moment, a confused look crossing her face, then. "Psychlone."

With that, she left the restaurant, the civilians starting to stir almost immediately.

 

Tabitha got up, stretched, and walked over to the cops, helping them regain their bearings.  "Guess she got the drop on all of us, eh, guys?  Hungry?  That kinda thing takes a LOT out of you." and to the confused cashier she hands out her credit card., "Look, I got the pizza covered, but I can't cover any damages."

[chase]

Salamanca

Day after Brickstown

Tabitha (regarding Psychlone)

"Hi, It’s me."

"Yeah, sorry, I’m on a payphone."

"Well, because my phone’s bricked and when I tried to buy another the credit card company flagged two phones in 24 hrs as  suspicious, so they tried calling my number to verify, but MY FRIGGIN PHONE IS BRICKED."

"Yes, I know availability of  contact is a term of my release.   Workin on that."

"Yes, I know that the budget counseling didn’t have… well, ANY room for charge card payments.  Workin on that too."

"Salamanca."

"Yes, I know I’m supposed to alert you if I’m planning to travel out of city limits.   I had reasons."

"So you know about that?"

"Yeah.   I need all the info you have on her."

"I don’t care.  I’d consider this need-to-know."

"NO- don’t say “stop.”  No- DO NOT SAY THAT."

"First, that’s totally unfair- how many times did Statesman face off against Lord Recluse, and did anyone ever criticize HIM for not bringing Recluse in?"

"Really?  Man, that IS rough.  Anyway Second, she’s been in my mind.   She knows stuff and can do stuff.   If she detects even the slightest hint of betrayal, and I’ll wake up finding I just spent the last 6 months singing karaoke in a furry-themed hostess club halfway around the world."

"Well, she might’ve read my darkest fears."

"Is it really up to you to judge what should and shouldn't be in my darkest fears?"

"It’s up there."

"I don’t really KNOW what she had access to.  I’m not taking any chances."

"That’s why I’m in Salamanca.  I took the rail to the farthest destination before even THINKING this. "

"HELP her.  Just use that.  (mutters to herself) helphelphelphelp.   No, that’s not her mind manipulation, I just need to write over those thoughts.   "

"Look, she’s obviously messed up, but who isn’t?   I was a victim of my powers too- not to the same extent, but I totally made a mess of things, too.   People HELPED me.   YOU helped me."

"Maybe putting an impressionable MIND READER in a prison for the CRIMINALLY INSANE wasn’t the best way to help."

"I dunno- I’ve NEVER READ HER FILE!"

"Look, I just need to know what she’s done, how she was caught, and what her treatment was in the zig.    I need to know how to… work with her."

"Y’know, it might not be all-bad- having a telepath looking for the dagger of jocas could have its benefits."

"I didn’t tell her!"

"I don’t think she HAS a plan for it.  I get the impression that she picks up on things around her sometimes.   With everyone fretting over it, it’s on a lot of minds."

"IF she gets it-  I dunno, maybe we surround her with bunches of people that want to retire to an isolated island getaway… or want a milkshake… or something, and then when that sinks in we just offer to trade?"

"It might work..."

"Well, it’s not like possessing the dagger will amplify her powers or anything…  Will it?   I kinda skimmed the book. "

"Ok, work on getting me that stuff.   Don’t mail me.   I probably need to change all my passwords.  I’ll be in touch."

"Oh, and is there any chance you can validate my PTA ticket to Salamanca as official business so I can get reimbursed?"

"How about if I go punch someone while I’m here?"

"Great."

"Could you… could you sign me up for the next job fair?  I think I’m gonna need to pick up some side work."

"Thanks."

"Bye."

--------------------------------------------

On the rail back from Salamanca, Tabby had a terrible idea.   A worse-than-terrible-idea.   The kind of idea that only a catgirl would consider a good idea.    According to her unnamed contact, her old phone was bugged, probably by Longbow, which means they think she knows something.  Also according to that contact, at least one of her potential contacts is out-of-commission.    She didn’t know if they were STILL tracking the phone, but bet they were.

 

She still had a few potential contacts in Vanguard-  Her short time at the Vanguard base didn’t leave her with the best impression of the organization.  Neither group seemed likely to be very open or truthful with her, and even if the Vanguard contact did want to impress her, guys lie all the time to impress girls.

 

...If only she could stage a meet-up with her Vanguard contact-  that’d probably draw any Longbow tails into following her.

...And if only she knew a telepath that could hide nearby, detect them, and pry for the truth.

 

Those were big if’s, but she had very little else to go on.

 

She plugged in and powered up the compromised phone, then logged in to yet another Naughty Neko account.    None of the posts Misosazai had taken of her totally dominating the Warriors had a single upvote.  Except one- an obviously-altered-in-an-unflattering-way pic taken right before she landed a double-palm shot to a slasher’s groin.  *oh, look! it's animated.  God, I hate these guys*

 

She flipped back to the shots of her in the Vanguard base.   There were 3 of them, so she took the person with the most active login date and sent a tell.

 

Quote

 

Hey, this is Tabitha.

Lol. Right.

Seriously, It’s Tabby.

Did Smithson put you up to this?

No.  It really is Tabby.

Prove it.  Pic

 

 

Tabby stewed on that.  The last thing she wanted to do was give these assholes more material, but she really needed someone inside Vanguard to get the full story on this rogue faction.   Maybe he was even IN the rogue faction, which would be awesome, so she needed to be careful.  Finally, she went to the bathroom mirror, held out her hand in classic middle-finger-salute, snapped a closely-cropped picture of just that hand, and hit “send.”

 

Quote

 

Holy f**k, it is you!

Yeah, I’m working on something and need a friend.

 

 

A few minutes later he replied with a pic of an appendage of his own- not the same as she had shared. *I should have seen THAT com… no, bad phrasing.   I should have expected that.   This was a mistake.  I should just walk away, but I NEED a contact.  What to do?  Reject him, for sure, but is that swipe left or right.   What if I get it wrong?  No, not risking confusion there.*  She texted back.

 

Quote

 

Not that kind of friend.

Dagger of Jocas is important to me.  Need intros or intel. 

That’s out of my pay grade.

Then relay to someone that can, pls.   May be in trouble.

Am in trouble.

This is a big ask.

I know.  Re-post your first pic of me if you get something.   I’ll be in touch.

 

 

She logged out and shut off the phone.

*Now, I gotta just clear my mind before reaching out to Psychlone and getting her buy-in.  Hope she hasn't gone TOO far.*

 

Edited June 23, 2020 by chase

[chase]

Atlas Park, City Hall

A few days later.

Tabitha

 

“Treatment was mainly confined to mandatory counseling…” 

Tabby had finished reading over Psychlone’s file, but that part really struck her.    When Tabitha got into trouble, she was sponsored into one of the most prestigious all-girl “reform schools” on the continent, she got personalized counseling from one of the top psychologists in transformation trauma.  She was… well, she was TRASH before the change, but they treated her like something special, even if she didn’t appreciate it at the time.   It was 4 years of her life, but it could’ve been so much worse.

Psychlone got the “much worse”- sure she’d injured and even killed several people who had been trying to help her, but she’d been experimented on, enhanced, and mistreated for so long before that.  Could she really be held responsible?  And putting a telepath in the zig- the big concrete box of criminally insane- for “mandatory counseling sessions”?   They were never going to let her out. She was being warehoused away and forgotten.   A 20 year old girl victimized by others and then neglected by the system for the rest of her life.

The ridge of fur pulsed up and down along her back, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her caseworker.

“Look, I don’t like it either, but this wasn’t a decision made by just one person- there are teams involved in sentencing and treatment.” Miriam had to almost put her chin onto her desk to make eye contact with Tabby, who seemed to be trying to burn the report with laser-eye focus. “It’s the part of this job I hate the most.  We don’t have an unlimited budget.  Sometimes… sometimes you must cut your losses, let the impossible cases go and conserve your resources on people you CAN help, like you, Tabitha.”

“Frankly, some of the team is getting a little worried.  I know I wasn’t here to give you proper 1:1 time, but lately- the days without contact…”

“…my phone was bricked… and the other phone bugged!”

“… the unapproved travel…”

“… I… I FOUND THE LOCATION OF THE WARRIOR FOOTAGE.  I’M TRYING TO HELP SAVE CAPTURED HEROES!”

“the... questionable choices for dining partners…”

“… I negotiated the release of three hostages.”

“and you let her walk away. Look, you’ve been a model turnaround before this. We might still be able to advocate for early graduation from the program, but you need to avoid this kind of transgression. Okay?”

Miriam smiled and contorted herself further in her futile effort to make eye contact, but Tabitha avoided contact.  The fact that they pulled Miriam off maternity leave to personally take this meeting should have telegraphed that she was in trouble.  The two of them played a short game of catching or dodging each others’ gaze before Miriam had enough.

“So, John has something that’s right up your alley. Detective Murwell asked for you personally- something fishy down near Paragon Yacht Club. Do you…”

“I’m investigating the Warriors and the missing heroes.”

“I know, and the everyone appreciates the intel you brought in.  We got it to the right hands, and they’re moving on it as we speak.”

“I want in on it.”

“We have the right people working that angle, Tabitha.”

“I could be the right people.”

“You’re the right person for the yacht club investigation, Tabitha.  Leave the captured heroes to the professionals.”

“We have KIDNAPPED HEROES and the DAGGER OF JOCAS in the wild and you’d have me chasing a boat club’s problems?!”

“Tabitha, honey.   It’s great that you care.  It really is, and there will be a time for that someday, but those are high-stakes cutthroat operations.   It’s not safe.”

“I’ve been fighting warriors! Freakshow! Carnies!  … NEMESIS!  It hasn’t been safe for a long time.   I’m ready for this.”

“Right now, you’re ready for what we tell you you’re ready for.  Your community service credits apply to the assignments given to you by a city representative.  You need to focus on those, you need to stick to the terms of your release, and… Tabitha,” she leaned in close to emphasize every word, “you need to be mindful of the company you’re keeping.”

“I’ll be mindful.” *starting right now.* She thought bitterly as she got up to leave.  *I’m going to help rescue those heroes.   I’m going to help recover the Dagger of Jocas, and I’m going to make them regret treating Psychlone as a lost cause.   I don't care if they don't count as community service hours*.  Then in a burst of inspiration she thought *The Vindicators and Phalanx count as city reps! Swan's validated my hours before, and she and Manticore are so busy right now, I bet they’ll sign anything I put in front of them.*

She stormed off, only pausing for a moment when Miriam called after her, still smiling, still trying to connect with her. “Don’t forget, Tabitha- it’s donuts day!  Lunchroom, 15 minutes.   You can have mine too,  no need to wait until seconds are called.  I’m trying to work off the baby weight…”

“Thanks, …but I’ve lost my appetite.”

[Terminal]

The Internet

 

1 New Message!

 

To: Anonymous^*

From: Goldberg

 

Quote

I know this seems like it is coming out of nowhere. I am one of the regulars from the enthusiasts' forum. You posted a bunch of answers to questions about locations corresponding to coordinate data. We did some digging and we figured out you're one of the same people who posted similar answers the last time a project like that went big with that Family Ultimatum video.

 

Thing is, last time we released information on where that video was made, a whole bunch of people busted into the place and as a consequence Tina Macintyre got double-kidnapped from the Family.

 

Our little clique has pieced together a few locations where the Warriors are probably holding all those heroes, but we are trying to be a little more circumspect this time around. 

 

So instead of just posting that information for the whole world to see, we will tell you what we figured out, if you can convince us that we can trust you. We would like to start by asking what you would do with the information if we gave it to you.

 

---

 

^{*The recipient of the email is Barghast.}

[Sidhe Vicious]

Monitoring.  Nothing drastic for now, just information gathering.  I have my ways, I can get close.

Not a lie.  Not the whole truth either. 

 

I figure somebody should keep an eye on them.  Don't want them being moved or something bad happening while we dithered around.

 

Which begged the question of what would she do if things came to a boil when she was supposed to be watching?  Would she step in, or just run with it to maintain her cover?  She likes to think it's the former...Time will tell how accurate that is.

[Badkittynecril]

Brickstown

A few days later

Tabby and Ragamuffyn (Collaboration)
 

The ringing in Tabby's skull was worse than most hangovers she'd encountered- so much worse, because she couldn't remember the drinking that had led to it... or where she was or... *wait a minute... I'm pretty sure I didn't properly earn this hangover.  I was... I was checking the mailbox, and I turned around and a flash of green and.... shit!*  Full realization struck when she tried to rub her eyes, only to realize her hands were bound.
 

"Shit shit shit shit shit." 
 

Through the ringing in her ears and the initial blur in her vision, Tabby heard the sound of someone else in the room: A pitchy, excited voice seemingly deep in conversation but clearly not speaking to anyone present:
 

"...and then she's going to be like, 'Nuuuu! Don't do it!' And I'm going to be like, 'It's golf time, bitch!'"

As the world came more and more into focus, the catgirl realized that she was in fact right in the middle of her own sparsely-decorated apartment.   *That explains the smell* she thought to herself, looking at the sink full of empty ramen cups.  *I really need to get a trashcan*.  A single stool sat next to the counter.   The rest of the furnishing in the place consisted of a laptop sitting atop a makeshift cardboard desk, a blanket in a corner designated for sleeping, and a still-unpacked army surplus duffel bag.
 

Though far more unsettling than a bout of unconsciousness and waking up in her own spartan apartment was the strange figure now inhabiting it: A short little thing covered in a dirty, blue hoodie with their back turned to Tabby. The feline noticed the interloper's odd choice of attire immediately: Pants looking like black and white prison stripes, one foot bearing a thick black boot and the other completely bare. But the flesh on that one leg, that was something else entirely: Not quite human. Pink but scaled and gnobbly. the figure turned around, their face covered by a filthy hockey mask from which shone wide, manic eyes.
 

"Hiiiiiii..."
 

*Great.  Another prison escapee?  Now I know why rent is cheap in Brickstown.*
 

"Ugh... well, if you're here to rob the place, you picked the wrong place, obviously.   No harm if you leave now.   The... uh.. the laptop..  well, if you're gonna take that, can I clear the cache first?"  She needed to stall until she could get free.   The bindings felt irregular- a bit ragged, probably made from something like torn denim or burlap or something like that.  *Not something too difficult to cut through* she thought as she snapped off one of the gelcaps she kept over her claws.  *Time to get to work*. She twisted as best she could to check for others in the room, but it only seemed to be the girl.
 

"Rob you?" she laughed maniacally, "No. No no. You robbed ME. Sort of. In a manner of speaking. Not the point. The point is..."

That was when Tabby noticed the things behind her. She hadn't remembered there being an old golf bag stuffed with metal bits in her apartment...nor the ornate, glowing green rifle that leaned up against it.
 

"The point is, YOU are going to talk. Oh yeah. Right now."
 

"Um... ok? I can talk.  People are usually threatening me trying to shut me up, but I can talk, sure." She felt one of the bindings loosen, but she was having trouble reaching the next one. "I... uh... there was this class at school- we used to call it Bullshitters 101, that they used to teach us public speaking.  I used to get dinged for too many..." *I think I got it... no* "..uh's, you know, stammering and that, but... got a B+.  Is this working for you, because I..."
 

The girl initially seemed confused, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ha. Ha. Ha," she replied, seemingly unimpressed. From the sound and look of her, it was clear that Tabby's would-be kidnapper was likely little older than her late teens.

"You're saying that, sure. But I know there's a trick here somewhere. I know it!"
 

The hoodied intruder reached into the golf bag and retrieved a long driver, seemingly bent halfway up the shaft and rusted to near uselessness. She eyed her captive with manic energy.
 

"Have you ever played Mario Golf: World Tour?"
 

Tabby's eyes widened- she hadn't, since the boarding school didn't allow much free time for TV or games- but she had the distinct impression that her head was going to be used as a golf ball.   *Gotta work harder against your bindings, or my brains are going to be spilled all over the 7th green..* 
 

"What?  No, but what... what did YOU want to talk about?  I mean, I'm being rude here- not used to having guests, and here I am doing all the talking and haven't even offered you anything to eat or a place to sit or..." *Freedom! no... wait, damn* "or a chance to tell me what you want."
 

"I have..." the hoodied thing replied, eyeing the bent club, "Two hundred hours preparing for this moment." She raised the club menacingly before blinking, as if something had misfired in her brain.

"Wait. Wha- No! I'm not your guest! I'm your CAPTOR. Yes..." The intruder waved the club like a magic wand making what were likely supposed to be menacing, growly noises. "So yeah, I'll tell you what I want...Just don't think you can lie to me because I am the BEST at torturing people and there's like twelve guys in the other room who'll come in and beat the crap out of you if you try to escape! Get it?"
 

"Got it." Tabby wondered if she'd possibly encountered someone worse at lying than she was.   The only other room, the bathroom, clearly couldn't hold that many, even if she had managed to sound convincing.  "Just tell me what you want.   I... I'm not a fan of pain, so you've convinced me.  I don't want to be tortured."
 

*How many freakin knots did she put in this thing?*
 

"Right! Yeah..." The girl seemed confused that her captive was being so forthcoming, scratching at her back with the near-broken driver. "Well, you'd better!"

She came closer, perhaps uncomfortably close. She smelled of dirt and dark, dank places. And something else. Something not easily described. She blinked her wide eyes through the hockey mask.

"Where's Psychlone? Where'd you take her?"
 

In the movies, this would be where the hero broke free, headbutt the villain, and turned the tables, but sadly, Tabby had never lived up to the hollywood hero steretype.  She'd thought about it- was even pretty sure her one hand was free now, but the question caught her entrely off guard.
 

"Psychlone?  I...  what do you want with Psychlone?"
 

"What do YOU want with her? You can't just kidnap people you know!"
 

Tabby was flabbergasted.   Part of her wanted to point out the irony of her captor saying that, but she was already pretty sure it would be lost on her.  Part of her wanted to just break out, fight back, tie HER up and say "Well, guess I CAN", but that wouldn't get her any closer to getting something for this headache.  Heck, she wasn't even sure if she could stand without throwing up right now.
 

"Um...  Psychlone.   I didn't kidnap Psychlone.   I KNOW Psychlone- we had pizza, so we're kinda acquaintances, not... like besties- more bestie than me and Flambeaux- that bitch- but not... What I'm trying to say is I didn't do anything to her except pay for her pizza."  She now had both hands free but kept them behind her back.
 

The intruder looked around furtively, a sort of sheepish confusion entering what little Tabby could see of her gaze. "You...You didn't...? No, you surrounded her. With a bunch of blueshirts in the pizza joint! You're trying to mess with her or get her..." The girl shifted nervously but then suddenly pushed the bent shaft of the driver hard up against Tabby's throat. Poorly thought out plans or not, it was clear that the girl was still dangerous. And quite unstable to boot.
 

"Don't. Lie to me," she growled with angry eyes.
 

Tabby didn't like where this was headed and thought that maybe shifting the power dynamic might jar her companion's thinking.  She'd only successfully translocated once, but it was a simple spell as long as it was in her sight.  She could blink away, conjure up an energy blast, and continue this conversation as equals.
 

That was the plan.
 

The blink worked.  She was across the room, facing where she just was...unexpectedly 3 feet off the ground. As she suspected, she really didn't have her legs back yet, so when she landed she fell into her cardboard desk, crushing it and sending the laptop flying with a sickening crash- straight into the back of the intruder's hoodied head. For her part, the girl was not expecting a sudden lack of Tabby to lean on and with a surprised yelp lost her balance and bowled over the chair, getting caught in the poorly knotted ropes in the process. Still not sure if she could stand, Tabitha remained seated on her flattened cardboard desk.  Practically reclining, she still traced her memorized arcane patterns in the air, making a small glowing ball of energy appear between her hands and held it there.

"I am not lying. I did not kidnap Psychlone. I'm looking for her too."

The girl thrashed frantically among the ropes, feet kicking in the air over the upturned chair. Tabby noticed part of the hood pulled back, showing short, dirty black hair and a patch of pinkish skin on her temple that looked...not entirely human.

"Gah! Wha-Why?!"
 

"No.  This time, you first.  Why are YOU looking for her?  I don't like seeing people with guns or golf clubs going after my...friends." 
 

"Friends?! I'm trying to rescue her! From you! You..."

There was a pause in her thrashing.

"You...you're a cape...right?"
 

"Well, um... depends on who you ask, really.   I think of myself as more of a 'college student with a hair problem' but I'm clearly not normal. I...I made some mistakes a few years back so I'm working with the capes to kinda pay back. Sometimes I feel like I'm just getting ordered around like when I was in placement...but anyway. Sorry, I haven't figured this all out yet either. It feels weird to say that."
 

Tabitha studied her foe. She had heard of the homeless being exposed to things in their emergency shelters, whether down in the sewers or in abandoned factories, and the girl certainly didn't seem well.  Dangerous, yes, but well? No. It seemed clear that the confused girl- she had to be around her age- was loyal to Psychlone. Whether naturally or through mind-manipulation, it was hard to tell. In her current condition, it probably wasn't a good idea to come to blows with her, and if she WAS looking for Psychlone, maybe it didn't need to come to that.
 

"Anyway, that night I was just getting pizza and she was getting pizza and the police... well... I think Psychlone's a pretty tough girl, don't you?"
 

The girl just layed back in the mess of ropes looking up at the ceiling. She clutched the bent golf club, drumming bandage-wrapped fingers against it. Tabby could tell that she was listening and that something she had said early on had given her pause. Made her twitch a bit.
 

"Uhhh...So...you...weren't trying to kidnap her?"

"No! I mean, I thought she was going to hurt the police, but she didn't, so I didn't do anything but buy her pizza."
 

The girl raised her head up to look at the catgirl: "Not trying to...arrest her? Lock her up? Put her in one of those squishy rooms?"
 

Tabby eased the arcane energy ball until it dissipated, then tried to stand, leaning against the wall. "Look, I know what the police want, but...what they did to her wasn't fair. It wasn't right to lock her up like that. I don't want her to hurt anyone, but I don't want her to be hurt either."
 

"I mean...People hurt you, you're gonna hurt them, right?"
 

Tabby grumbled, "Well, yeah, I guess, if they mean to hurt you, you gotta defend yourself..."  She'd made it to the kitchen counter and took the opportunity to lean on it. The girl was obviously hurt, confused, and seemed to have attacked her with a good motive, if terrible execution. You get hurt, you hurt others. *I wish it wasn't that simple. I wish someone would stop the cycle.*
 

"Look, I just want to find Psychlone. I... We're both looking for something, and I think I may have a lead. If you want to help her too, maybe we can help one another find her." 
 

The girl tapped on the golf club anxiously, seeming to mull over the prospect while still sprawled out on the floor. Slowly, she twisted herself off of the fallen chair, her body still tangled in ropes, crawling onto the floor. Pulling the hood back over her head, she looked up at Tabby...and then to the green rifle...and then to Tabby again.

Was she judging the odds? Considering whether to scramble for the gun or not?
 

Tabby studied her in turn. It had to be tough- and dangerous- to be homeless on the streets of Paragon City. For as badly as the kidnapping had gone, the girl had to be pretty hardy to survive this long. The prison pants suggested that Tabby might want to leave any reference to her out of her daily report, but if she's not being harmed, maybe she wouldn't harm others. *I survived.  That's what mattered.*
 

"Ok, well, now that you're not my captor anymore, I guess you're my guest.  I...I've just been rinsing out these ramen cups and reusing them- I can mix up some lemonade or fruit punch, if you want a drink.  Got some homemade frozen lasagna in the freezer. If you... um... want to let your friends out of the other room and use it to freshen up, we can talk about how to find...and help...Psychlone. I'll nuke some lasagna, but I only have one plate so we'd have to fight fo... err... take turns."
 

The girl blinked, looking around the room like some furtive weasel. The place was so bare. When she glanced back to the catgirl her eyes had a sheepish quality.
 

"Let me um...consult the boys...Okay?"
 

"Oh, of course, but I have to make the lasagna stretch till my next payday, so I can't share with everyone," she said with a slight smirk.
 

"I...uh...think they're probably full. They ate on the way here." The girl crawled toward the bathroom door, stopping to look back at Tabby every now and again before opening the door. She peered back out at her host with a suspicious 'I'm watching you' look, just one last time before closing it.
 

Tabby called after her,  "Oh, I never got your name!"  She thought about mentioning the washer/dryer in the closet- it was supposed to be a perk of the apartment, but she'd never had much need of it. Besides, all she had to offer her "guest" was another hoodie and some schoolgirl uniforms she'd sworn to never wear again.
 

"Just a minute! In a meeting!" she heard the girl call back. It didn't take her long to come back out of the washroom, standing upright and attempting to look rather dignified and official.

"I have consulted my people, and we have decided that we will NOT kill you. Or maim you or hurt you or anything like that."
 

"I'm grateful."  Tabby had picked up her laptop in the interim and trying to get it to boot.  She tried to remain vigilant on the presence of her new guest without LOOKING like she was watching her...which meant typing on a dead computer and pretending it worked.
 

The girl crept over to the raggedy golfbag still in the corner and picked up the strange rifle. She held it in her hand for a long moment, staring over at the catgirl before finally shouldering it. She walked over to Tabby, leaning in uncomfortably close and tittering nervously. She didn't seem to notice that the laptop wasn't working.

"I just wanna say that I am really, truly, deeply, really REALLY...sorry."
 

Tabby's internal voice was still grumbling, but she was committed to this and feeling good about breaking the cycle here, broken laptop aside.  She smiled, "Don't. I'll be fine. You didn't burn off my fur or blind me or anything. A little painkiller and rest and I'll be fine. Now, since we've never been introduced..." She held out her hand, which was still missing two claw caps, "I'm Tabitha."
 

"Rags. Ragamuffyn. That's what I got called and it stuck! Like 'outta my basement, ragamuffyn!' But Rags for short. And no sweat! I get hit a lot too." Rags giggled as she gave the catgirl's hand a vigorous shake. Tabitha could see the girl was grinning with her eyes. "I mean, I heal pretty quick and most people don't get close enough before PEW PEW, but you get the point!"
 

Tabby got the point, and if she was going to have her new friend find Psychlone *mental shout: PSYCHLONE! IF YOU HEAR THIS, PLEASE FIND US BEFORE MY SECURITY DEPOSIT IS TRASHED* she'd better be extra vigilant that someone doesn't get trigger happy.
 

The microwave dinged.  Tabby's belly grumbled.  
 

She pulled out the lasagna and slid the hot plate over the counter.  "Welcome to Casa de Tabitha, Rags."
 

The girl's eyes seemed to glimmer at the sight of the meal. "Oooohhh...I have something too!" The raggedy creature bounced back over to the golf bag, rummaging through it until she located what she needed with an eager sound. She ran back to Tabitha with what appeared to be an already opened box of sugary cereal.

"May I offer a box of Fruity Fruits in this trying time?" She leaned in and whispered, "This is my restitution to you." She nodded eagerly.
 

Tabitha took one of the ramen cups as a makeshift bowl but eyed back to the lasagna, *well, at least I don't have to wait for a clean plate*
 

"I... well, thank you."
 

As she munched on the semi-stale cereal and watched Rags devour the lasagna, Tabby's eyes fell on the patches of skin that seemed different- mutated and scuffed.  "Does it hurt?"  then quickly added, for clarification, "The scars. They look like they'd be painful."
 

Rags blinked, halfway into trying to fit a large bite of lasagna behind her mask, "Hmm? Mmm, oh." She devoured the forkful and pulled the mask back into place. "Nah, it doesn't hurt. Actually kinda the other way around?" She raised up her one bare foot (not much for table manners this one), showing off the strange, pinkish scales and markings all the way down from her knee.

"It's pretty neat! You can have ALL SORTS of things happen and it'll just slowly get back together like SCHLUNK. People don't...heh...really like looking at it though..."
 

Tabitha tried to shrug it off rather than cringe from the sight, "Yeah,  People have weird tastes on what they like and don't like. Guess neither of us have much need for shoes." She held out her leg, toes splayed, claws extended, a strange middle-ground between paw and human foot.
 

Ragamuffyn giggled, wiggling her toes, "Things in common! We're so close already!" She paused with a gasp, turning to look Tabby straight in the eyes, "Wait, so is this like an 'all the time' thing? Like it's not a costume?"
 

Tabby crossed her arms, a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny she brought to herself.  "All the time for now.  Hopefully that'll change.  It's been...jeeze, four years already...but I'm kinda hoping to find a way to switch back now that I'm here in Paragon."
 

"Why?" The question was blunt and to the point, but confused in a way that a child lacking insight into some complex matter would show.
 

"Well, a lot of reasons, I guess. I never really planned to look like this- and sometimes it'd be nice to not look like a reject from a japanese anime- the kind that usually has tentacles and..." She paused, debating over whether to bring this up. It might help if she didn't emphasize appearance and instead emphasized some of her side effects. "Hold out your arm for a moment."
 

"Yes..." She extended her arm out for Tabby, still staring, fixated on her.
 

Tabby leaned forward and gently blew on her arm. "Feel that? That's tiny hairs on your arm picking up the subtlest change in the air.   Now imagine if you had ten thousand more hairs there, ALL of them sending you all that, every time, from everything.  Wind- a handshake- a hoodie rubbing the wrong way.   It gets a little TOO MUCH sometimes. If I could just... I dunno... switch back to how I was, it'd be so much easier."
 

"That sounds...tickly," answered her raggedy guest.
 

*Sometimes* she thought, before answering: "Sometimes it's like a billion needles all poking you at once."
 

The girl now seemed to be half-listening, raising her hand toward Tabby's ears, "But you're a kitty...I am now...going...to pet you."
 

Tabby reflexively ducked back, "No, that's what I mean. It can feel like you're petting, but it can feel a lot worse to me." *Ok, the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished rule is coming into effect.*   

"But I must..." She slowly continued reaching toward her. "Just a little bit. With the grain not against!"
 

Tabby's inside voice was shouting *personal space PERSONAL SPACE* while she leaned back, back to the counter.  Her ears twitched and flattened, and she could feel her tail bristling. She eyed Rags, still approaching, the gun, the golf bag, and kept reminding herself that she needed to keep things calm. She'd had too many wins up to now to let it go south. Don't blow it. She took a deep breath.
 

"Ok, only the ear, though, ok?"  She tried to make the ear stand up, but it kept twitching back, anticipating the contact. 
 

The disheveled thing outstretched a single, scaled finger. It grew closer and closer, Tabby pratically feeling the seconds creep by with horrifying slowness. Moments drawing out into torturous anticipation as it drew nearer and nearer, her internal thoughts practically screamin-

Boop. Just on the edge of her ear. With the fur. Not against.

"Yesss...Pet kitty."
 

The girl's eyes lit up with maddened, childlike joy as she gently stroked the fluffy ear.
 

"...What were we talking about again?"
 

The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but it was unpleasant that it wasn't unpleasant.  Tabby fought hard not to curl her head toward the scritch, to lean into it, to... "Oh, um.  I...  PSYCHLONE!  We were talking about how to find Psychlone, so we can help her!" *Damn, I need to get back to a normal human- Soon!*
 

Tabby broke contact and crossed the room, pacing and babbling nervously, "I... she told me if I thought about her, she would hear me if I was within range, but I have no clue what her range is, so I've been riding the rail doing the mental equivalent of yodeling her name. I haven't heard from her."
 

Rags snapped out of her fascinated petting, only looking slightly disappointed, "You don't know? I thought you'd know where she is."
 

"She said she'd find me if I called out to her. I've only tried for the last day, so maybe she's just waiting for a good time to get back, but I don't know."
 

Ragamuffyn grumbled to herself, raising a clenched fist to her mask, all pensive and nervous, "Grrr...I've been trying to find her since all the stuff happened at the Zig...but..."

She jumped up, rocking on her heels excitedly, "Maybe two brains are better than one! We could think really REALLY hard about it!"
 

Tabitha didn't have anything better planned for the evening- Well, she'd planned to get Te'minowa, her level 43 human sorceress in EverWar to level 44, but with her laptop out of commission, that wasn't going to happen. Besides, she was probably right: More minds might cut through the "static" that Psychlone mentioned.  
 

"Ok, then. Let's focus on that, then." *And leave the 'pet kitty' thinking a safe SAFE distance away.*
 

"We can find a roof or something!" *She grabbed the plate of lasagna almost possessively. "Can we, uh...take this with us?"
 

"Sure, just don't drop it, okay? That's my only plate. I made the mistake of microwaving one of the ramen cups before. It was not pretty."  Tabby opened the window out to the fire escape. She had used it to access the roof numerous times before. *With my luck, some lucky drone-flier is going to get a video of this.*
 

"Hahahaha! Cool! This is gonna sooo great!" Ragamuffyn took the plate and followed after Tabby through the window, "We can scream with our brains! A guy I knew back home? He used to know how to do that. Like how to scream INTO someone's brain and scramble it all up. He did it to me once. It was awesome."
 

Tabby climbed the stairs, resigned to the fact that her brains would probably be well-scrambled before this night was over.

[chase]

Off The Coast of St. Martial
Several days Later
Misosazai

 

*It's no use.  I can't focus.*

 

The last few days of fighting had taken their toll on Misosazai.   Although the traditions passed down did help recover faster, some things just needed time to recover.   Her left arm wouldn’t stop aching- a side-effect of using it too much to shield the bruised ribs on that side.  Each exhale hurt a little less during meditation, but the pain always came back.  Now, she couldn’t even get comfortable in the lotus, although that may have more to do with the floor rocking and the ridiculous getup she was wearing.  There wasn't anyone awake to see her, but she still hitched the skirt down a bit more, even though it would just ride back up in this position.

 

The problem with meditation is it leaves the mind time for introspection, so she finally had to admit that she'd been running on a death wish.  She still was, if she was being honest with herself, but the means had evolved.   At the start, it had been merely a “fight the good fight until you drop” battle frenzy.  No plan beyond the current battle, no thought beyond the next move.  It was pretty good as far as death wish tactics were concerned, but she just kept winning- and every moment when she could have accepted death and taken a loss there was always something else at stake- something she had to deny her foe, so she never took the exit.  

 

Now it was the hero kidnappings.   She’d fought the warriors and won, but others hadn’t, and now they were being held to be auctioned off.    It wasn’t right- leaving them to that fate.   It’s what the Hellions did with Ryk in the sewers, leaving him and the crew to rot there.   It’s what she did when her mom told her to run and never look back.

 

*I’m looking back now, mom.  I… I can’t stop looking back.”

 

She shouldn’t have run.  She should have died right there at her mom's side.  She should have gone with Ryk on his “big score” and died with him.  She didn’t.  But freeing a hero from the warriors- not leaving them abandoned- fighting to save them… maybe that’d be a good surrogate.   

 

The horizon- once just a faint neon glow- was taking shape.  The cityscape of St. Martial, the casino isle.  The last batch of leaked coordinates painted a path to the Rogue Isles, so that’s where she’s was heading.   It wasn't the easiest place for a broke 17-year old to access, but much easier for the upper class.  Rich debutantes with access to daddy's yacht, charge cards, and a far-too-public social media account would run all-weekend parties there and back- easy targets for both her and the Carnival of Shadows. 

 

It worked out almost perfectly.   Not only was the crowd big enough that nobody could know everybody on the boat, but the Carnival of Shadows' propensity for masks made it even easier to infiltrate. 

 

*I just wish the rest of their gear was as concealing as the mask.*  

 

She adjusted the “skirt” downward once more, then finally gave up and just stood, stretching and reaching to the stars.  She couldn't hold the position.  The rocking sea, her numb leg, a slick deck, and the iconic carnie high-heels made keeping her footing a challenge.  In a half hour they’d dock and she could break away from the drunken and drugged-out partygoers, retrieve her stuff, and get into something more functional.

 

*I did it! I infiltrated the Carnival and made it to St Martial!* She reveled in the victory.  She'd donned disguises before, but mostly just gang colors or pretending to be a suited-up crey intern.  Not like this.   This was big time.  *Thank goodness that the rumors of telepaths were overblown.*

 

*Oh, I wouldn’t say that.* a bemused voice said in her head.  *This was just too fun to stop.   All the sneaking and maneuvering and steamy near-misses- all the times you thought you’d avoided being exposed, all the mulling and brooding and futile attempts to shield your thoughts.   I haven't laughed this hard in years.*

 

Two hulking brutes suddenly and silently appeared at each shoulder but something was wrong- the cool sea breeze still cut through her as before.  Right through them.  

 

*Mind games* she thought, and they disappeared just as fast.

 

*Very good!  Ok, I must be honest- all that brooding was a bit boring- but a little sour can make the sweet even sweeter.   You can really appreciate drunken debauchery at a new level after a good lick of self-loathing.   You should try it, sometime.  Might need a heck of a party to offset all your baggage, but it’ll be soooo worth it.   Trust me.*

 

A semi-transparent female form leaned against the rail beside her.   Her attire, like Misosazai's, didn't leave much to the imagination.

 

*Oh, and leaving Cassie trussed up like that when you took her clothes!* It laughed.  *She has such a fun and unexpected adventure to share now.   It really was a treat.   I’d be remiss in my duties as a hostess if I didn’t return the favor in some minor way.

 

*So here’s the deal:  Brad threw your stash overboard a few hours back.  Most of it belonged on the seafloor anyway.  You didn’t sound too attached to Cassie’s wardrobe just now, but given your lack of alternatives I’ll give you a choice: hop overboard now and you can keep it, or stick around for the cruse’s finale bash and you can gather whatever's wearable off the deck afterward.*     

 

*Your choice.*

 

She didn't wait.   Jumping away from threats like this was becoming a habit.  The smack of cold ocean struck her before the final words even finished.   It wasn’t impossibly far to shore- possible with a little pacing.   She struggled a bit at the start- it'd be easier if she lost the boots, but she’d need them when she hit land.  Fortunately, there wasn’t much else to weigh her down.

 

*See?  Such a versatile ensemble. As light as a swimsuit!.... Oh! just but be sure to dry off thoroughly once you get out.  That material's practically sheer when wet!"* the voice in her head taunted, prompting Misosazai  to swim faster- she'd start pacing herself after she was beyond the psychic’s reach.

 

*And so much better than that hero stuff.   Heck, if you'd been wearing ballistic armor or a cape, you'd be halfway to the seafloor!*

 

Misosazai ignored her and kept moving.  Yeah, ballistic weave sounded nice, but wearing a cape was never in the cards for her.

Edited July 29, 2020 by chase

[chase]

St. Martial.  
A Few Hours Later

Misosazai

Misosazai cursed as she assessed her current circumstances.

Although most people wouldn’t consider it lucky to wash up on an abandoned beach, exhausted, and borderline hypothermic, with no ID, cash, phone, dressed in what was debatably more covering than a swimsuit, it *was* a step up from what put her in the sea to begin with.  In a similar way, although most people wouldn’t find being surrounded by acrid smoke and still-burning rubble, it did provide much MUCH needed heat just when she needed it.

And if there was any need for further proof that her luck was on the upswing, it came when she turned a corner just a block away from coming ashore and encountered a strange sense of deja-vu.   Right ahead of her was one of the pictures from the online data analysis.  Even the nemesis tunneller was still there.  She could have been standing in the exact spot the picture was taken.

SCORE!

This was it.  This was where all her effort paid off.   This was…

…

Her phone was with her other gear at the bottom of the sea.

She felt like her luck took a turn for the worst.  Not much had really changed- she still had no phone, no ID, no cash, and was dressed in an outfit that would make a hooker blush, but the full impact of that reality was becoming all too clear, and the bad luck just kept coming.

A rogue wave from the ocean broke against the pier, spraying her with a freezing mist.

“F**K!” she shouted, only to hear movement behind her.   

“Hey, girlie.  If you’re offerin…”  Three freakshow approached fast with very little interest in what her response would be.

“Any of you have a phone I can borrow?” she asked while clearing a wet tress off her face.   As soon as the confused reaction registered on their faces, she lept into them.   A knee to his throat took the first one out of commission, with the other two were quickly felled by a Dragon’s tail and and basic finishers before they ever got up.   A search of their pockets resulted in a handful of poker chips. No phone. No wallets.   

“… and no shirts.” She muttered to her writhing audience.  “Seriously, guys, you’ve got to be freezing.  Shirts. Jackets.  They keep you warm, could keep ME warm, and most importantly…” she added as she slipped the poker chips down her brassiere, “they have pockets!  Oh, that one’s real metal.  Cold.”

“You guys are lucky.  I’m about three goosebumps short of turning your pants into a shawl.”

Her next encounter- blue ink men.   No phone. No wallets.  “And again, no shirts.  Come on people.  I’m stretching out the seams here.   One lucky hit by the next baddie and …jackpot… I guess.”

It took her another two encounters- Tsoo and Wailers before she encountered someone who wasn’t as topless as she’d be if she kept weighing down the carnie’s brassier:  A tommy-gun wielding Family man talking on a cellphone.   

She didn’t even wait for him to do anything hostile.   One moment he’s chatting with “mahm” on the phone and the next he had a purple stiletto setting his voice to Soprano as his gun flew in one direction and his phone flew in the other.  The latter landed with a crash that made it clear that it wouldn’t be salvageable.

“Go****mn it!”  they said in unison- though his voice was far higher than hers.

“Wha? Ya wanted my phone?  Ya coulda just asked, y’know?” the button man let out, as he half-collapsed into a seated position on the curb.

“And you would’ve given it to me?”

“Well, we coulda worked something out” he said with eyes clearly set on her chest.  

 

She crossed her arms, triggering a sound of jostling plastic and metal.  

“Right.  Your wallet and your coat.  Now. “

He hesitated for a moment, butcomplied.

She slipped on the suit jacket first- she had priorities- then tossed the wallet back after relieving it of what little cash he had- probably under $20 American.   She grabbed a handful of chips out of hiding and handed them to the mafioso.   

 

“These have value to you?”

“Sorta.  Probably,” was the answer, but his eyes suggested he might have come out ahead on this deal.  She tossed a few more for good measure.

  
“Buy something for your ma for me.  Don’t go near the gun till I’m gone, and don’t come after me.”

“Yeah, kid, whatever.”

She was starting to like the wiseguy’s matter-of-fact attitude about the whole thing, like this was an everyday occurrence, so just as she was about to run off, she threw one more line, just to see how helpful he'd be.   “Any chance you know a place that’ll trade more chips for a burner?”

“Yeah, right here.” 

She stopped.   Sure enough, he fished a cheap plastic smartphone from his front pocket.   “Fresh as of this morning.”

 

“Always frisk ‘em.”  He gloated.  “Ya never know what fun stuff they got hidden away.   Got a piece here too, but maybe since I didn’t pull it on ya, you don’t knock the boys into next Tuesday again, OK?   Simple trade- the phone for your chips.” He placed the phone on the ground in front of him.  “I’ll even let you keep the coat.   Looks good on you.”

She nodded, realizing that the chips had a lot more value than she’d thought, but emptied her pockets and honored the trade.

“Wait, there’s like 5 minutes and no data on here!”

He shrugged.  “That’s a burner, girl.   If the call lasts more than 5 minutes, you’re doing it wrong.   If you’re looking for data, though… there’s an abandoned lab in Black Mariah with some open wifi.  It’ll connect there.   Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get my gun before some gutter trash walks off with it.  Be seein ya.”

 

--

((From there, it took a bit of backtracking to get pics of the site, then find the lab, but Misosazai finally got ahold of the mysterious Goldberg group.   Now, she needed to wait for a reply.))

((For those wondering on Misosazai's current "look", she isn't winning any costume contests.)
 

Edited July 29, 2020 by chase

[Archiviste]

Talos Island
Capitaine Comète
 

Madeleine was standing still. Or more precisely floating still, a thousand feet above Talos Island's train station. Doing so helped her focus while her skinsuit was processing the photographs Madeleine saw earlier.

"Yes, yes, I concur", she muttered to herself. "There is a 95 percent probability these images originated from the location designated 'Rogue Isles'."

"Now... how does one go to those 'Rogue Isles' ?"

Kallisti Wharf
Capitaine Comète & Jenny Herder
 

"Absolutely not."

The face of Jenny Herder, founder and CEO of the Victoria Landsfeld Foundation, was impassive as always, but her tone was firm.

"You are too inexperienced with this world and its dangers. And you would, to use the vernacular, 'stand out like a sore thumb' against the overall dreariness of the Isles."

Madeleine, standing at attention before her, tried to interject: "But, Mademoiselle Heurdeur, those heroes need us!"

"They need us, but you will not go. I will take care of this."

"... Understood, ma'am."

Talos Island
Beatriz da Fontaine & Jenny Herder
 

"This is a big favor I am asking of you, Bea."

Jenny and the petite redheaded woman were sitting in a discrete booth at Lee Ho Fook's, a popular Chinese eatery in Talos. Jenny was both happy and concerned to see her friend again.

"You will be alone, in hostile territory. Your abilities make you innately suited for this task, but I still..."

Beatriz da Fontaine shook her head and patted her friend's hand.

"Pensar nada disso, minha amiga. If those people require a rescue, I am willing to do my part."

"Besides", she added with a grin, "I have heard the club scene in Santo Martial is simply espetacular!"
 

St. Martial, the Golden Giza
 

Beatriz Anna Valentina Allegra da Fontaine put on her most dazzling smile as she shows her invitation to the maitre d'.

"Ah, Miss Da Silva", he said, using the name written on the impeccably-forged documents she was carrying, "welcome to the Golden Giza! I hope your stay will be to your liking."

"Sim, obrigado!" answered Bea in the most bubbly-headed voice she can muster. "I hope so too..."

[Badkittynecril]

~Brainstorming~

Brickstown

Tabby, Psychlone, and Ragamuffyn (Collaboration)
 

Tabby stood staring at the Zig... again.  The place was illuminated by spotlights for another night, but not the ones in the giant structure- they'd been trucked in and were scattered around the streets, making traffic hell.
 

"Is this even working?  Maybe...maybe she made it out of the city?"
 

"Who're we talking about?"
 

There was a noise, the distinctive sound of a straw slurping on something nearly empty. Psychlone stood by the door to the stairs, drink in one hand, a pizza box in the other...and dressed in what seemed to be a random asortment of clothing with no real eye towards coordination or style. Even the shoes and socks were mismatched.
 

Tabby rubbed her temple. It had been a long few nights- she'd never gotten used to a roommate in boarding school, and the slightest sound still woke her. "Psychlone...You know, the person we're supposed to be mentally shouting for when we're up here?" She tried hard not to have an edge on her voice... REALLY hard, but this hasn't been the first time she had to remind Ragamuffyn. 
 

Tabby glanced back at strangely dressed figure...right before doing a double take. "Wait! Oh! Hey, it worked! And you brought PIZZA! You...you're a goddess!"
 

"Was I not supposed to...?" She took a step back, clutching the box protectively.
 

"Oh, always bring pizza. Always. That's perfect. We, like, burned through a tray of lasagana and I have to make the other one last till payday." Tabby awkwardly shuffled, part offering to take the box or... What was appropriate here? A handshake? A hug? She settled on a wave. "Right. So, um, lots to catch you up on. Your..um...friend Ragamuffyn has been visiting. A bit of a misunderstanding at first, but we've both been looking for you."
 

On that note, the pair heard the clanking of footsteps up the fire-escape. Slowly, a small figure with a dirty blue hoodie climbed up onto the roof, dragging with her a small bag filled to the brimming with packages. Shouldering her strange, green-glowing rifle she did not yet seem to notice the company.

"ALRIGHT! Who wants beef jerky? Tabby wants beef jerky! And all the Cheeze Twiddles we can eat for a MONTH! Just...heh...don't ask where I got 'em."
 

Tabby was just about to do so when that timely warning was given. She shrugged, wondering how far she could stretch "plausible deniability" before this kind of thing got her into trouble.
 

"I'll just assume it fell off a truck ok?"
 

"I can find out!" the psychic chirped happily.
 

"No, let's- let's savor the mystery, please?"
 

"Yes! A mystery...No will ever kno..." The raggedy thing raised her gaze up to see the third member of their little gathering. She blinked behind her hockey mask and let the bag of junk food fall onto the rooftop.

"Psy!"

Before anyone else could say a word, she was charging straight for the escaped psychic, launching herself to try to wrap her arms around her. Psychlone gave a small squawk of alarm as the precious pizza box went flying. Only to hover, slowly rotating, a few feet above the roof. "I've got it! I've got it...No worries." Rags drew her into a tight hug. As tight as a girl weighing 100 pounds soaking wet could manage anyhow.
 

Tabby kept her distance, making sure NOT TO get roped into a group hug. "She...really missed you.  Like.  really... like 'attack random catgirl for kidnapping you' missed you."
 

"Oh, she gets like that." Psychlone shrugged, as if kidnapping somebody and threatening them with a golf club were so common and harmless as to usually go beneath mention.  "Found anything yet?"
 

"That's right!" spoke Ragamuffyn, still hanging off of her, "I thought she got you! Like, I thought she was trying to haul you back to the Zig! I thought I was..." She bowed her head a little, "...That I could have been too late..."
 

"They have bigger problems than me. At least the ones I've scanned thought so...They also think Vanguard has the dagger." She added in a conspiratorial tone.
 

"Vanguard?!" chirped Rags, suddenly a touch more nervous, "Wh- why are we talking about Vanguard?"

"No wonder that jerk never got back to me," Tabby muttered. *So much for expecting any good to come from the Tabby Tracker...*
 

"Longbow and some of the cops think Vanguard has it, but..." Psychlone winced, "Asking Vanguard would be harder. They, uh...They tend to know how not to 'broadcast' and how to keep me out."
 

"Wait..." Rags narrowed her eyes behind her mask. "What are we doing now?"
 

"We..." She tapped her temple. "Are trying to find out who has the dagger. And then I'm gonna take it."
 

"What dagger?"
 

"What dagger? What dagger!? THE Dagger!  The...magic thingy! That everybody's looking for!"
 

Tabby tried to step in and clear the confusion, "Someone stole a magic dagger.  It can do really bad stuff.  Everyone wants it, or wants it back, and Psychlone here wants it too. I...I can't lie, so do I, because it could do something good, like fix my problems. But Psychlone and I are working it out, so maybe let me share?" She gave a hopeful glance at Psychlone. *I am totally not going to steal it. Totally not. Totally not stealing it. I only want it for me...*
 

Ragamuffyn paused, eyes narrowing further and nodding slowly, "I see...says the blind man...Okay!" With that she sat down crosslegged on the rooftop, rocking slightly as she grinned at them with her eyes. "So how are we snatching this thing?"
 

"Have to find it first." Psychlone noted, crouching down to open the pizza box.
 

"Yes! Team huddle! Putting our brains together!" Rags crawled toward the pizza box until she was squatting just beside the psychic. "Tabby's cool by the way. Really cool. She's just like us!"
 

Tabby tried to shrug off the 'just like us' comment as a compliment- *Really, how different are we?* and instead focused on food. Figuring it'd be rude to not appreciate Rags' haul, she grabbed a slice of jerky and wrapped pizza around it, "Dad used to call beef stick the best pizza topping.  Probably because it was the cheapest, but...mmm...memories." *Mostly shitty memories, but the asshole did make good grub. When he didn't zone out and burn it.*
 

Rags quietly took a slice of pizza and carefully tilted her mask up, just enough to shove a bit in her mouth. Her companions could see parts of the pink, scaly skin around her chin.

"Mmm...sho...Vahguard, hmm? Mmm...Thah sounds pretty scahray..."
 

"Scary, huh...I'MTRYINGNOTTOPRY! Really..." Psychlone held a hand up defensively.  "Buut...I just don't like 'em because they're trained to shrug off mental stuff. I think. Maybe if we get one alone I can ask him questions or something."
 

"I brought a golfclub. Just for such an occasion..." Rags swallowed and took another bite, giving the pair a long, uncomfortable stare.
 

"I...um, tried to lure a guy in Vanguard to meet me, but he stood me up. Not that I think it'd have mattered; If they're trained to avoid a psychic, they're not going to just blab it out."  She finished the first pizza wrap with cheese dripping all over her hands. With no napkins, and pretty sure present company wouldn't mind, she started licking her fingers clean, then gnawing on some persistent goop that got into her fur.
 

"I mean, it'd depend on how long I ask him stuff." The psychic shrugged. "And how much juice I use." She reached for a piece of pizza. "That was something of a sticking point in there," she said, nodding towards the ominous concrete brick on the horizon.
 

"Back in the Big Zig?" asked the raggedy girl, tilting her head.
 

Tabby also looked at the big grey box and wondered aloud, "Did you have any friends in there... like you? Like, 'not supposed to be there' friends?"
 

"Not supposed to be there?" Psychlone asked.
 

She rocked nervously, cross-legged on the ground, "Well, y'know... we both did stuff. We both got into trouble, but, I mean...I got the golden treatment: A reform school, counselors- I mean, don't get me wrong the other students were shit and I thought I was in hell, but...." She still eyed the zig. "Not THAT kinda hell." She reached for another slice, this time sans jerky.  "You shoulda got that too. Not locked up in there."
 

"Everybody thought I should be in there," spoke Psychlone, tilting her head, "They didn't like me thinking."
 

"Well, they were wrong," said Tabby through a mouthful of food, "Don't get me wrong-- the way you can think-- it's scary sometimes.  I'm like...a little (*A LOT*) freaked out at the idea that anyone could like... control my thoughts, but...but that didn't give them the right to lock you away."
 

"They said I wasn't supposed to do that. And they didn't like that I stopped a few other people from thinking."
 

"Yeah, um... that- that last part. Shouldn't do that.  Not unless they're really bad and hurting you...or us really bad, but...You went through a lot. You needed, I dunno- My school probably wouldn't have been right for you. Listening to all those rich bitches all day would drive you mad. People like Insane Mary Zane. Damn, she's one that'd be in the zig someday for the right reasons if her billionaire dad wouldn't bail her out all the time. You coulda taken her place. Been a better sophomore roommate, that's for sure."
 

"Could I have?" She seemed excited, apparently completely missing the snark in the statement.
 

"I think having a roommate would be cool!" chimed in Rags, "Being alone or...you know, in a big room with twenty, thirty people is nice and all, but if you could just hang out with ones you were really great with...yeah..." She blinked a few times, "I don't think they let you have roommates in those soft rooms though. Do they?"
 

"What about the dagger? That's what we should be thinking about." Psychlone grumbled suddenly. Wishing for a topic change, perhaps?
 

"Oh yeah! Yeah yeah yeah! Dagger...Hmm...dagger dagger Vanguard dagger..."
 

Meanwhile, Tabby was still fighting a losing battle against cheese and grease on her hands, but tried to speak between the constant nibbles at her fingers: "Welf, if ifts Fanguard, fair main base is a no-go. We'd be outgunned efen wif your 9-iron, Rags... gah, ack, hurr...hurr... " A sharp fit of coughing and gasping overcame her. 
 

"You...You alright there?" the psychic tilted her head.
 

"Hurrr...ulk!"  
 

It was a sound most cat owners learn to dread. The alert that something cold and slimy awaited them somewhere on the floor. After five agonizing seconds of gasping and choking, Tabby coughed out a slimy black nugget the size of a knuckle. She'd almost inhaled one of the gel pads that snapped over her claws. Rags nearly fell over giggling.

"Ugh... that.... that was....unpleasant." She said as she shook the nugget off, snapped it back in place, and flicked her hand to shake off anything still attached to it. "Let's not talk about that again. Anyhow, they do have a few branch offices around town. I remember passing one in Founders Falls when I was on patrol there. Could probably check the place out, since I'm supposed to be checking in with someone at the yacht club anyway..."
 

"Enemies...enemies...Ooh, ooh!" The hooded girl piped up, "I could ask some of the guys. You know, people I know." She looked around at her compatriots with furtive eyes, leaning in and whispering: "They really don't like Vanguard. Like 'enemies of the Green Gods' really don't like."
 

"...So the 'Green Gods' aren't just in here?" Psychlone tapped the front of Rag's mask.
 

Ragamuffyn merely blinked. Her brain may as well have been playing elevator music. "I don't understand the question."
 

Psychlone shrugged. "Either way, ask them. If they can actually get out and look, so much the better.  Oh, maybe we can even use them as a-"  She stops. "Wait, you DO care if something happens to them...Yes?"
 

"Yes!" interjected Tabby quickly, "We...uh...we should ALL care what happens to everyone. PLEASE.   Maybe not...well...let's just try to leave as many people... thinking, as we can, okay? We don't like it when they try to stop us thinking, let's do the same!"  The catgirl turned to Ragamuffyn, "I...uh...assume that gun has a "stun" setting, right?"
 

Psychlone gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs up.  Less reassuring was the fact her next words were in Tabby's mind.  <See!?  I'm improving!>
 

Tabby's tail bristled briefly, then returned to normal, then bristled again,   "Rags?  It does have stun right?  You... you used a stun on me when you zapped me in the face, right?  RIGHT?"
 

Rags was quiet. She had blinked at Psychlone's question, furrowing her brow beneath the mask as she seemed to be suddenly lost in thought. Stray images leaked from her brain: Teeth chattering. Hungry. Freezing. Curled up without even a blanket. Something carrying her. Warmth she leaned into. A blurring of place. An older man with an unkempt beard and hooded jacket. A warm place to stay. A warm meal offered. Given over by a scaly hand. So warm. Madness mixed with something fond...

Slowly, she looked up at Tabby. "Uh...Wha...Stun?"

Psychlone gazed at their furry host, "Well, you're not dead, so..You don't have like...Super steel skin or something, do you?" Suddenly, she leaned over to give Rags as much a crushing hug as her ninety-pound frame could put out. The masked girl squeaked at the unexpected hug but did not push away, leaning into it if anything.
 

Tabby seemed a lot more nervous as the realization of the near-death-experience she may have experienced.  The green flash took her out kinda fast.  She'd thought that was the gun, so maybe it's just already set to stun... or maybe those was the "green gods" she was referring to.  "I... uh... well, whatever you did to me, I lived through it, so stick with that for now."
 

"Uh yeah..." Rags giggled, looking passed her psychic comrade toward Tabby, "Yeah, I kinda used like a smaller thing for you but yeah! Sure! It has a 'stun' setting..." The near-wink and huge fingerquotes were not entirely reassuring.
 

Tabitha stood and began pacing nervously, wringing her hands. *Oh, this is such a wonderfully, terribly, awesomely bad idea Tabitha. I mean, you've come up with some real doozies, but what is it Mrs Pipin always said? 'No problem that couldn't be made worse by adding Tabby to the mix.'* She turned back to the group and tried to sound more confident than she felt. Or appeared. 

"So, sounds like we have a plan. I can scout out some Vanguard outposts, Rags can consult her contacts, and... Psychlone? Did you want to try to read a Vanguard soldier's mind, maybe while I distract him?"
 

"Whatever we do, we should stick together!" exclaimed Rags, raising her fist excitedly, "Because we're a team now!"
 

*Great. So it's 'Go meet the Green Gods that may or may not be real' or 'Try to steal secrets from the world's most secretive organization.'* Tabby wasn't sure which sounded more suicidal. Still, she wasn't one to mock religion. The big guy upstairs had been relatively quiet despite her effort to plead for clemency, but she knew demons were real for certain, so there had to be something there.   
 

"We can go see the guys and you can meet the Green Gods and-" Rags took in a sharp, hissing breath, "Ooh, actually, nevermind. I don't think you should *meet* the Green Gods. That's like a special thing." She leaned in, whispering far too loudly, "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you about that." She nodded. Yes. Best at keeping secrets. "But we can talk to some people!"
 

"Get me close and I can see what they're thinking about." Psychlone nodded.

"Well, the... uh... green line, I think, has a stop real close to the Vanguard base in Founders' Falls. They probably have guards posted around the clock, so we can plan a visit when there won't be many people around."  Tabby was far from comfortable with this, but how bad could it go wrong? Just chat up a guard at the base, using key phrases to make him think of some secret, then see what Psychlone could glean.  *What could go wrong?*
 

"Long as I don't like...Trip an alarm or a failsafe or something. Those can be messy," Psychlone continued with a manic little giggle, "But yeah!  Brainstorming!" 
 

Rags snorted loudly, putting her hand over her mask, "Pfft! Heeheeheehee, brainstorming! HAHAHAHA!"
 

Tabby smiled at Rags, doing her best to share her enthusiasm. An explosion came from the direction of the Zig. Not uncommon with the ongoing riots there, but enough to break her focus. She wasn't sure now how to feel about the place.  She'd run into plenty of bad guys on the street during patrol, people she had no doubt needed to be in there, but after reading Psychlone's profile...That could have been her. It could still be her, if she wasn't careful. How many others like that could there be in there?
 

"Rags, I never asked, but you had on something like prison stripes when we met.  You weren't ...kept in there, were you?"
 

"I've been in and out of places," replied the girl, bouncing, "Rogue Isles lockups, hospitals here with the nice, soft mattresses and...uh...heehee...tight clothes."
 

"Zig uniforms are orange." Psychlone interjected, "Mine said I was a 'Psychic Prisoner' and to keep at least five meters of distance! Dunno why. That's not really far enough..."
 

"How far IS far enough?"
 

"I...Think it's line-of-sight? Haven't really tested it. That I know of."
 

Tabby shook her head, trying to find something that didn't fill her with unease. The Zig, their plans, the Dagger...it was all driving her toward an anxiety attack. *This isn't the kind of stuff a college student should be dealing with. Geeze, I haven't even experienced my first college FINALS yet.*  
 

"I mean, you can study and WE can go get it." Of course Psychlone had picked up on that.
 

"What? No...uh...that's ok. I just...this is all just new to me."
 

"Well, learn by doing. That's how I do it!" The pale woman stood up, stretching. "I mean, I didn't even know I could speak French until I heard somebody speaking French and was all 'Je suis désolé mais j'ai encore du mal avec le français.'"
 

Tabby laughed, "Mine's kinda rusty, and I was always better at reading it- some of my aunt's old tomes were in French. My teacher teased me that I sounded like a 17th century colonial."  She looked over to her...friends. Friends. She realized that up to this point, she had still been seeing them as something different. Even though she was convinced Psychlone didn't belong in the Zig, she wasn't seeing her as a kindred spirit, but someone she had to help or guard against. Yet here she was, the psychic giving friendly advice to her. They'd been nothing but good to her...

Well, after the little misunderstanding with being shot in the face and kidnapped, but...
 

"L’habit ne fait pas le moine," spoke Tabby, "That was always my favorite: 'The vestment doesn't make the monk.' My french teacher always used it when the other girls would torment me with catgirl jokes. Guess I should be reminding myself of that a bit more."
 

"I don't know about monks," mused Rags, rocking slowly on the rooftop, "But does the straitjacket make the mental patient?"
 

Tabitha gave a chuckle. She could think of a few other variants, including a German one that was rather raunchy, but given her own dress, or lacktherof, thought it would be better not to dwell on the topic.
 

"Uh...So. We have the...BEGINNINGS of a plan...Yes?" Psychlone looked around. "I can get their surface thoughts easy. Going deeper will probably make them notice."

"YES!" shouted Rags, jumping to her feet, "Our schemes are set in motion! Nothing can stop us now!"
 

"Ok, so there's usually a guard in front. We can start there. Maybe I could chat with him, try to stir up thoughts, so it'll be easier to pick them up. That way it won't seem so strange that we're waiting around near the base."
 

"Act like you wanna join up, maybe?" Psychlone suggested.

Tabby hiccupped, "Join...uh...err....uh...well...I...I'm not that...practiced..in flirting." Her cheeks fluffed in an obvious blush, "BUT given that its almost expected from catgirls, people tend to read that into.."
 

"I meant join up with Vanguard." Psychlone stared at her.  
 

"Oh! Oh. Yeah! Of course! That's so much better. Sorry. That'll be fine, and so much better." She tried not to think about what the Vanguard guy on the NaughtyNeko forums sent her. *Sooo much better.*
 

Psychlone blinked. "Do you want me to find him? Maybe the guard will know him. I can kill him for you."
 

"Wha? No...um, no killing vanguard, please. It was a misunderstanding."  Tabby fidgeted even more, particularly now that she knew that she'd accidentally shared that memory.  *Mental note: purge any thought of the NaughtyNeko fanfic section!  Wait, no, Psychlone, don't take that literally.*

"Kill who now?" blinked their tattered companion.
 

"NOBODY!" Tabitha blurted, "Nobody gets killed. Please."
 

"'Kay..." Psychlone shrugs. "Still. Plan works?"
 

"Works for me. We talk to the guard like we're interested in joining. Maybe he lets us inside to see a recruiter, maybe we just see what he knows. If anything goes wrong, we..." *Panic, yell LOOK OUT! AN ALIEN! Run while they're distracted. Panic some more.* "We scatter, then regroup here once we know we're not followed."
 

"We'll work on that exit plan." 
 

"Great!" chirped Rags, practically shaking with enthusiasm. She grabbed another slice of the pizza and raised it like a chalice. "To the plan?"
 

"To the plan!" Psychlone grinned and held up a plastic cup.
 

"To the plan." Tabby said with far less dread than she expected. Rags' excitement seemed a bit contagious. 

 

 

*Maybe this won't blow up in our faces after all.*

 

Edited July 30, 2020 by Badkittynecril

[chase]

St. Martial
A Few Days Later
Misosazai, Isabel the Knife, and Candy

 

"So, you're sure of this?"  Stranger things had crossed Isabel the Knife in her years, but this development was unexpected.

 

"Yup, Desiree and Mercedes tracked sightings over the past 2 days.  She hasn't taken a client- or even tried.   Just been hanging around the abandoned lab and picking fights with anyone that even looks at her funny.   Then she gets something on her phone, runs across town, and wipes out a warrior stronghold- ALONE- coming out with Decibelle."

 

"A stronghold seems a bit much here,  RIP found, what? A dozen of them?   At least we know our initial assessment was off- we don't have an encroacher or possible recruit- we have an undercover cape."

 

"Yeah, funny thing is that she only stuck with Decibelle till she was within sight of Vanguard.   Mercedes said it was if she was hiding from them."

"A solo'er, maybe with her own issues with the law.   Interesting.  Has there been any other contact made?" 

 

"No- well besides with the bottom of her boot."  Candice grinned, quite proud of her joke.  "She's running round town looking for something, hits the lab to check email, then repeats. Barely eats- girl's gotta be starvin."

 

"She's looking for the other warrior outposts then.  I've heard that others have looking as well.  I'm pretty sure at least one more has been found, but they're taking a more cautious approach.  Henchco."  Isabel handed her smartphone to Candice, with the screen showing.

Quote

HenchCo will be hiring a team of mercenaries for an exciting adventure tomorrow! There will be benefits* such as dental*! Posistion is strictly part-time and for the purposes of one adventure only. *Benefits only paid out to full-time employees

 

"I think its time I send Dear Dr Brayne a present."

 

"And what about the carnie tramp?"

 

"The whatnow?"

 

"That's what the girls call her.  The cape.  Can't be good for business, having one of those running round."

 

"Same thing we always do-  profit."

 

Isabel was busy scrawling a note.  "First, you're going to get me some take out from Mr. Chen.  Bourbon chicken and pepper steak.  Then you're going to get some flowers and take this note to Dr. Brayne's assistant.   The guy can have his head in the clouds with all the sciency-stuff, but his assistant is sharp.  She'll understand the message.    After that, bring Tina's grey costume to the lab.   The chamelion one."  

 

"The one with..."

 

"Only call them 'special enhancements' around the girl... let's not call her carnie tramp."

 

"Gotchya."   Candy read the note.
 

Quote

 

My Dearest Dr. Brane,

 

I've heard you’re seeking individuals of a particular skill for an event in St. Martial.   My source tells me the theme is costumed individuals in distress, possibly tied to a mock auction (or is it mockery of an auction?) - as has grown so popular in the isles recently.

 

I can supply an individual uniquely experienced in this very scenario- she's proven herself capable of reaching Decibelles on her own, well ahead of everyone else.   She is available for this affair, if you’re interested.

 

Payment can be made through the prearranged BBB contract.

 

As always, my other girls will remain available at your discretion throughout your stay.

 

Isabel

 

 

"Whats the BBB contract?"

 

"Benefits, Bribery, and Blackmail.  It 'keeps gifted individuals on retainer to reward employees, entertain prospective clients and foreign officials, and take pictures to assure a long-standing and reliable business relationship.'   Pretty standard fare.  All the big corps have them.  HenchCo, Crey, Cage, Major Flanders Fried Chicken..."

 

"Isn't it a little presumptuous to think you can get her on board with this."

 

"My dear, if heroes are anything, they're predictable- and far too trusting."

 

--------------------------------------------------

(A few hours later)

 

So, what's in this for you, again?"

 

"Look, kid, I'm trying to build trust here.  That's all. "  Isabeleyed the untouched take-out tray and cola in front of the girl with irritation.  It just sat getting cold on the desk in the abandoned lab.  she'd even set a napkin down to cover the stains.

At first the girl's suspicious nature was endearing.   She was obviously starving, but wouldn't touch the peace-offering in case it'd been laced with something.  Maybe this city wouldn't chew her up in a few days, like it did most, but given her ragged look, she should really start taking care of herself.

"What if I eat a piece first?" she offered, reaching for the food.

 

"You might know which pieces are safe."

 

"You pick."

 

"Maybe you already took the antidote."

 

"Maybe give me a break?  I'm not some monster!  Look, I know that you helped Decibelle get out.   I support that.  Some of us here don't like the idea of tying up someone, beatin them senseless and selling them off- not without a safeword at least.  That's all this is." 

"What's in it for you?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Nothing's ever free.  There's always a hook."

 

"Well, then you can owe me."

 

"I don't like owing people.  What do you want out of this?"

 

Just on time, Candice arrived with the package.   Isabel gestured for her to put it down next to the food.

 

"Allright.  Allright.  Here's the deal.  HenchCo's ... a good friend to have.   They're running this op, and you're the only one with direct experience in this thing right now.   That'll make you very useful for them.   You want to free heroes.  They want to free heroes.  I put the two of you together, you both get what you want, maybe owe me a favor.  Unlike you- me and Dr.  Brayne understand that favors are a currency that professionals can trade in.   Maybe you'll learn that.   

 

"An IOU like that from Brane is worth sharing some food- plus you can borrow some tactical gear I got from Lovely Linda to really look the part."

 

The girl was already rummaging through the bag.  She pulled out the neutral-grey bodysuit- slim and defining, but still practical and offering some protection. It shimmered in her hands.   

 

"Stealth suit.  Full chamelion mode.   Same stuff that longbow's spec ops and the knives use.  Top notch.  Yours for this op, if you go."

 

"Yeah, plus Linda says it has all our special enhancements, too!" Candy piped in with pride.

 

Isabel froze. "Our... no. That wasn't the deal.  That..." 

 

She yanked the tactical wear out of Misosazai's hands, grabbed the soda and poured a drop onto a seam.   It foamed.   "Goddamn, it! Breakaway thread!  Really?  NOW?"

 

She shoved everything back in the satchel and practically threw it at Candy, who was stammering,  "I... I didn't know."

 

"Shut up.  Just..."  Isabel turned to Misosazai, visibly shaken,  "Shit,  there's no time.... Look.  I just wanted to have an edge on Brayne.  Kinda a survival skill.   I... I don't want to mess this rescue up. Do the op with HenchCo, go save the cape.  Do that. Don't punish the hero for my screwup, please. " 

 

She rummaged through her purse.  "I've got $30, go buy yourself a lunch so you know it's safe, and if... if you do this, I'll...  make it right for you.  I'll owe ya.  Heck... I got a safehouse- a room at the Pot o Gold near the service elevator.   Warm bed, hot bath, room service, and I'll send over a bunch o stuff in your size to pick from.   Just show them this card.   I'll... I'll work this all out, even if the favor is worth less than the cost."

 

She shoved the cash and the card into Misosazai's hands.   The girl's suspicious gaze had melted into understanding... even trusting.

 

"Just..  save the cape, ok?"

 

Misosazai nodded, pocketed the cash, gathered her stuff and ran off.

 

Isabel leaned on the desk, watching to be sure she was gone.   Candice dropped the satchel and started munching on the food.  

"Candy, dear, make sure you fix that soda spot as soon as you get back.   Marly need it for her 4am."

 

"Yup. On it," she mumbled through mouthfuls of food. "So, uh...  you're out, what?  $30, this $5 grub, and the room you already got for free, right?  That's your safehouse, right?"

"Along with anything of Tina's old stuff that she wants.  Yes."  Isabel decided she better help herself to the food while it lasted.

 

"And you're getting HenchCo's standard merc rate?"  

 

Isabel smiled.

 

"So I figure the only way you come out losing on this favor is if HenchCo misses a couple o zeros on the cheque."

 

Isabel kicked back and relaxed.  "A lesson for you on being a broker, Candice:  never charge a penny less than the market will pay, and never pay a penny more than the seller thinks its worth.   You get to keep everything between the two, and sometimes, those margins are extraordinary."

 

"And if Dr. Brayne spills the beans?"

 

"Darlin, you know first rule of our business is you NEVER talk compension during the act.  Same goes for mercenaries."

Edited July 31, 2020 by chase

[Archiviste]

Beatriz da Fontaine & Jenny Herder
After Gravidian's "rescue"

 

"<You are saying you removed your suit and left it there?>" [*]

 

Jenny's expression was neutral, but her tone showed some curiosity.

 

"SIM!  <That thing was so itchy!>" Bea almost started scratching herself at the mere mention of the non-descript black catsuit she wore on her mission to the Isles.

 

"<I see. The garment was specifically made not to be traceable, so it is not a concern. But that means you had no clothes on when you arrived at...>"

 

"ISSO NÃO É IMPORTANTE!!!" Bea cut her off, blushing. "<But this is...>"

 

She told Jenny everything she learned during that mission and everything she noticed about her provisional teammates.

 

"<The person in charge was this> Doctor Brayne?" Jenny's eyes were flashing rapidly. As she gathered all publicly available information on the good Doctor and on HenchCo, her eyes grew colder.

 

"Sim."

 

"<Thank you, Bea. I'm afraid I will have to ask for your help once more - there are still abducted heroes in need of rescuing, and I believe you are their best hope.>"

 

"<I will do my best, my friend.>"

 

[*] translated from Portuguese.

Edited July 31, 2020 by Archiviste

[Archiviste]

Beatriz da Fontaine & Jenny Herder
Kallisti Wharf, offices of the Victoria Landsfeld Foundation

 

"<I have contacted Doctor Brayne at HenchCo and asked him to assemble another team. Only this time you will be in charge.>" [*]

 

"Sim."

 

"<Do you want me to procure you another sui...>"

 

"NAO! <I mean.. no, thank you.>"

 

"<As you wish. But your usual costume might be too noticeable, and might attract unwanted attention.>"

 

Bea shrugs. "<If I cannot wear my> 'traje de herói'... <I'll wear this>". She picked at the off-the-rack shirt and jeans she was wearing.

 

Jenny nodded. "<My contact at the Longbow base in Nerva will again be your extraction point. HenchCo will assure your safe passage from the mission's location to the base.>"

 

Bea blushed as she remembered the reaction of the Longbow officer the last time they met. "... sim..."

 

"<Bea, I cannot thank you enough for what you are doing.>"

 

Bea shrugged again, with a smile. "Nós somos heróis. Salvar vidas é o que fazemos."

 

[*] translated from Portuguese

[chase]

St Martial
Candy and Misosazai
A Few Days Later

Candy shifted her weight outside as she listened to the deadbolt slide and the safety chain come off.  It still didn't open.  Then came the sound of moving furniture.  

“What’d you do, barricade the door, too?   Paranoid much?”  

The door finally opened.   Cleaned up and in the hotel’s complimentary fuzzy bathrobe, the carnie tramp didn’t look much like either now.   

“Hey, lookatthat.  You clean up nice,” she said, muscling herself into the room.   “I brought over some of Tina’s old stuff for you to pick through- should be mostly your size.   I know Issy said she’d have stuff sent over, but she’s been distracted by a special group of clients, so I figured I’d step in and… let me hang this stuff up and we’ll take a look… hey, are you sleeping in the CLOSET?”

One of the hotel downy comforters was folded into a makeshift mattress with a pillow at one end.

Misosazai’s face flushed slightly, “I know it’s paranoia, but… just in case someone came in while I slept… I figured I could get the jump on them.”

“Girl, you need to learn to relax.  There’s smart paranoia, then there’s crazy paranoia, and I’m no expert in your line of work, but I think you’re on the straightjacket side right now.”

“Speaking of straightjackets…” The stripped mattress was covered in towels, and on top of them was a wet leather bodysuit laid out all spread-eagle.    All the room’s moveable lamps were positioned down on it.   “I wouldn’t have taken you for the catsuit type.   Careful with drying that.  Wet leather shrinks with heat.”

“I know.   It already did.   In my last… op… I ended up on an island in Nerva with no boat or bridge.  Had to swim.  Stood under a hand dryer at the ferry landing for like an hour.  Damn thing got tight- like impossible-to-move tight.   For the last half I had to unzip it down to the navel just to breathe.”

Candy giggled. “Damn, that’d have been a sight.”   She managed  to draw a blush and a shy smile from the girl and a halfhearted laugh.   It really had been a sight, too, but Misosazai was wrong- it was precariously below the navel in the shots Candy had seen.     Casino security was being generous with them.  Other cameras that even hotel security couldn’t access had already let her know the state of the room before she entered, too, but she had to keep up the ruse.

“Well, next time you plan to wear that, you’re going to need to start real early - like days.   Leather will stretch back—over time, but it’ll be a bitch to wear till then.  Might also want to powder up to slide in and out more easily.   You’re gonna look like you’re doing full-body geisha paint  or superhardcore goth or a coke bather for this thing.”

“Coke bather?”

“Yeah, get covered in the stuff so rich execs can snor… y’know- never mind, probably not the best reference.  That trend was so last-year, anyway.”  

She checked on the boots at the base of the bed.  "Well, at least these are usable, and then there's your old getup.”

Carnie Tramp…  no, stick with the name she gave Isabel-  Missy? Miso? Shit, she’d googled it and it was Japanese for some bird or something.   Whateverhername…. she’d said something unexpected that was the important part.  It was obviously a curse from the tone but not English.

“Wait- was that Spanish?”

“Yeah, sorry.   I’m not fluent.   My parents were determined we’d grow up speaking English, but it was’t their first language.   When they got pissed they’d still curse in Spanish.  My brother and I would get them pissed a lot then compare notes.  Curse words are about all I can say.”

“Your codename’s not Spanish, though, right?”  If she’d done this research wrong, Isabel would have her hide.

“Right, Misosazai’s Japanese for Wren.”

Candice started sorting through the clothes, trying to find something for Misosazai, since there was no way that suit would be street-worthy for at least a few days.  "But you don't speak Japanese?"

“No.”

"And that's not your real name, obviously.   So, what should I call you?”

“Misosazai” she replied, without hesitation.

Candy visibly flinched, “I’m sorry, that was presumptive of me.   I just… I mean in this business I should know better than getting personal with someone.  I didn’t mean to pry.  I should just go..”

 

“It’s OK, I… I didn’t intend it as a shutdown.  My friends called me Misosazai.  My family called me Misosazai.  Everyone that knows me calls me Misosazai.   My real name….  well, the last people to call me by my real name really didn’t know me at all.”

Candy sat at the edge of the bed, clearly expecting more from this story.  Misosazai seemed to let her guard down and sat on the corner opposite her.  “It was all: ‘Hi Shandora, let’s help you to your new room and introduce you to the other fosters,’ and ‘Shandora, let’s talk about how we process grief’ or ‘We’re sorry, Shandora, but your brother’s fosters won’t be able to bring the only real fucking family you have left over for a visit this weekend. Again.’ Or ‘Ms. Ward, to the principal’s office now.’ 

“The last part- starting with  Ms.- that was actually the hardest- like I almost expected someone to call me Misosazai and I’d turn around and see Ryk or mom or one of her friends.  Someone who knew me.  I gave up.   I won't be that person anymore.   I’m just Misosazai, now.”

They sat in silence until Candy extended a hand and a warm smile, “Well, Misosazai, nice to meet you.  I’m Candice Cage.  No relation- unfortunately.  My friends all call me Candy.” 

“Ok… Candy.”

Isabel was so right.  Be tough around her and the walls go up, but show a little bit of vulnerability or trust and the kid melts.

“Do you mind a nickname, something shorter like Missy or Miso or…?”

She was cut off, “Anything but Missy or Mizzy.”  There was history there.  Maybe for another time.

 “Ok, Miso it is, then."  She pulled something from the closet and passed it over, "Why don’t you try on this? Good thing about black: it goes with anything.”  

It was a light slip of a dress, spaghetti straps, short, and slit up the thigh.  Misosazai’s face was a blend of intrigue and discomfort “God, I’d look like such a hook… er…  I mean…  I didn’t.  That came out so wrong.”

“No, no problem, I get it.    I wouldn’t have expected it, given what you were wearing when we found you, but I do get it.   Try it on anyway. We’ll build up from there.”  She went over to the closet and fished around, “Maybe with some of… well, there are jeans, there are skinny jeans and then there’s practically painted-on, like this, but the material’s elastic enough for you to kick without splitting them.  Plus, they’d go with the boots, and with the skirt on top, you won’t feel like your ass is on full display.”   

She passed over the clothes and they stood in awkward silence, facing one another until Candy got the message and turned around to face the wall, rolling her eyes. 

“For what it’s worth,” she called back over her shoulder, “We don’t use the term hooker.   Those girls work the street or the floor.  Nothin wrong with that, but it’s a dangerous job we don’t do.  When we’re on the floor, it’s strictly for info gathering.   We work with the high-rollers- all carefully vetted, and a lot of them regulars that last all night, if not days.  Sometimes we’ll do special parties and stuff, but really, we’re more like high-cost dates offering a full range of experiences, not just fu***ng for dollars.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know.  Forget it.  Let’s change the topic.  You mentioned a brother.  He like you? In the hero biz?”

The silence told her she’d hit a nerve.

“No.  Not like me.   Ryk was very much not like me.  Probably would have been a great hero.   Mom always say that he got dad’s Latin physique but her Asian mind. Said that made him the perfect warrior.   I, on the other hand, got I got her build with a Latina temperament. She called that the perfect disaster.”

“Ouch.” 

“It was more a tease than a dis.   Mom was always training him up- he’d win tournament after tournament.  It’s kinda what she did- come up with custom fighting styles for heroes based on their strengths and weaknesses.  With Ryk, that meant that the toughest part of getting him in the Olympics was determining what style he was closest to using..   With me, it was all ‘Run. Hide.  Don’t draw notice to yourself.  Hit hard when you have to, then hide some more.’   I always wanted to do the flashier kicks and gymnastic moves that she taught others, but she’d just yell “Misosazai!” and send me back to my katas. You can turn around now.”

The jeans-with-dress kinda worked- it fit- had a kinda “sassy formal” twist to it.  

“Sounds like Misosazai was codeword for ‘STFU, kid.’”

That got a laugh.   “Oh, it was totally STFU, in her own way, but more.  The wren’s small, not showy or flashy, and is so common it just blends into the background.  It’s what she wanted me to do, so she started calling me that all the time to drill it in.   Once she did, it kinda caught on with everyone. ”

“Everyone telling you to STFU all the time.  Did the message ever get through?”

“Not a chance.”  She laughed again.  Candy got the impression the girl hadn’t had reason to laugh in a long time.   She studied herself in the mirror again. “I’m not used to dressing up.. for attention.   Mom never approved, and on the street, it was dangerous to… y’know, draw attention to yourself.”

“I didn’t bring any jackets, but now that I know they’ll fit, I’ll send the rest of Tina’s stuff”

“What happened to Tina?”

Candy hesitated, her voice cracking a little as she spoke, “Her… friend for the night had enemies.  She was collateral damage.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, her tastes were a bit different.  Don’t get too wigged out if you find anything too… um... trade specific in with them, ok?  I really don’t want to spend too much time sorting or thinkin of her.”

“I won’t need all that.  I'll be heading out soon and I’ve got to travel light.”

“Isabel says with all the favors you got for her, this place is yours for a month.  Sorry, that was the other message I was supposed to deliver.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re not imposing- and don’t let Isabel make you think you owe her or something.   You help people.  You got skills we don’t.   Keeping you close… maybe things’ll turn out different for the next Tina.”

“I can’t make promises.”

“Then don’t.  Just use what you can for as long as you can.  No obligations. But… if you want to feel obligated… when some new merc op takes you halfway around the world to rescue some kidnapped oil baron’s son and they shower you with millions, come back and buy us a round of drinks, ok?”

Misosazai rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’m not a merc.”

"Hero, then? How’s that pay anyway? Product endorsements? Free rent?”

“I’m not sure.   I’m not really that, either.   Not… like… registered or anything.   This thing in St. Martial, it’s just something I had to do.”

“So what pays the bills?”

She shrugged, “I live lean.”

“So what happens if you, I dunno, get shot and you need to lay low a while?”

“I don’t expect to live through that.”

“What? One of those ‘wolf only loses one fight, and in that fight, wolf dies’ folk? Seriously?”

The nod was so matter of fact- there wasn’t the glimmer of hesitation in her eyes.

“You’re fuckin serious!   You didn’t come here to find the heroes- you came here to die, and searching for the heroes just makes it sound more noble.”

“I fight.  That’s all I know, and I’m just gonna do that till I can’t fight anymore.”

“Girl, that’s effin crazy.   I f**k.   It’s about all I know, too. I BS the rest, but I’m not gonna f**k myself to death, and I’ve found a way to make money off it, at least!”

“It’s not the sa..”

“It’s the same thing.  We both got gifts.  We use them.   You don’t know how to turn a profit on yours, but they’re worth a lot more than mine, I’m telling ya.  Isabel can help with that, even.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“Sure you do.   When we found you when was the last time you ate?  You were mugging freaks for pocket change to make ends meet.   Is that really how you want to meet your end?  Weak from no food and no sleep, and taken out during a mugging.  Is that the end of your great fight?”

“I’m not gonna try to talk you away from dyin.  I’ve met a lot of people with that attitude- and yeah, they do eventually die, but not before they get twisted up in something bad.  They don’t get the death they want.  They get some miserable pathetic way out when they were worn down or in debt to other people who treated them as disposable.  To keep control of your destiny, you need cash.  They forgot that.   Don’t you do the same.”

That seemed to be sinking in. 

“Talk to Isabel.   She’ll help- for a cut.”  

Misosazai’s phone was charging next to the bed.  It’ screen was unlocked.  She grabbed it.  “Here, I’ll give you her direct number.  She won’t mind ya havin it.”

Small contact list.  Very small, and the only active app was…  “What’s this?  One of those places you’ve been lookin for?”

Misosazai snatched the phone back.  That said it all.

“Let me take a copy.  Wasn’t much to distinguish it from any hovel on the isles, but some of the girls come from that kind of background.   Maybe we can help.”

“Too dangerous.”

“For you, yeah, you had that cape look even when you were flashin panties at everyone you kicked, but some of us are natives to that kind of place.   We can get in and out where you can’t.”

Misosazai held the phone close.

 

“C’mon, we don’t get many chances to be the hero in our line of work.”

She reluctantly handed the phone over.  Candi forwarded the pic and handed the phone back.

“There.   Probably won’t be anything we can do, but ya never know.”

She got up to leave.

 

“Y’know, some of the girls are getting together for ladies’ night later tonight.  No clients, just us. They’re all curious of the new heroine they’ve been hearin about.   If you got nothing goin on, let the catsuit dry for a night and come down n visit.”

“… I might.”   

“Ok, fair- no commitment, but if you do: The black’s dress is good, but the green would really bring out your eyes.  Consider dropping the jeans and boots- there’s some heels in there that’d go great with it.”

The wary expression said it all.

“Remember, you’re in St. Martial!  The frickin Sin City of the Atlantic.  Half the population dresses like hookers here- the superpowered ones are even worse.   Have you seen Silver Mantis?  She makes that getup look practically Amish!”   Candi switched to her best mock-somber face, “Sometimes to be the wren you have to dress like a songbird.”  She couldn’t hold the face long, as a playful grin slid into place., “Hey!  I like that.   Sounds kinda proverb-y.  Maybe that’s something your mom would say in this situation?”

“This situation?”  Misosazai eyed the dress and the heels in the closet and blushed.  “I’m pretty sure she’d say ‘Young lady, you’re grounded!’”  That confirmed that green was the right choice- the girl would be too red-faced most of the night for the red one.

 

“Ok, I’ll see you at 8, the Glencoe room.  It’s the one with the waterfall.”  She shut the door before Misosazai could remind her that she’d only said maybe.

 

---

 

Candy contained herself until the elevator doors shut, then quickly broke out the phone.

“Hey,  it’s me.  Yeah.  Shandora Ward.   Get Det. Biggs to run it.   I think we can rule out the billionaire-playgirl-superheroine scenario, but might as well be sure.”  

“No, still do it.  We play every angle till there’s no angle left to go.  Maybe mommy had an insurance policy.  Oh! and you can tell Saki she can stop fretting over her Japanese studies- not gonna be useful here. ”

“Nah, the dragon-mom story of hers is gonna be spot on.   She can still run with that.”

 

“Nope.  No family. No ties.”

 “I got a pic, too.   Think it’s near where we picked up Monique.   Share it with her.  Make sure I’m right.”

“Oh, and you were right.  She’s gotta be under 20.   Guessin straight outta high school now.”

“I know I was way off before, but you look in her eyes and you get the feeling she's been doing this merc stuff for decades.  Besides, in my defense you know how orientals age.  Saki’s 5 years older than me but put her in pigtails and she still rocks a convincing schoolgirl.  She’ll probably be able to do that for another 10 years while we have to trade up gimmicks every 3.”

“Makes me sick, too.”

“Miso.  Yeah, that’s a soup, right?”

“Thought so.  Well, if that angle plays out, we’ll have Miso and Saki- a lunchtime special!”

“No. Unlikely.   You should see her every time I hinted at our work.  With that dragon mom, I’m bettin she never even had a boyfriend.”

“Well, that was Saki. This one… I think a guy makes a move like that, she’d break him in half.  Like I said, unlikely.”

"Most likely angle, then?  Probably scraping the carcass of everything we can. The girls on self-destruct, I think.”

“No, don’t’ go all ‘wounded puppy’ on me.  We ain’t fixin her and we aint’ keepin her.   We're not investing in her like we did with Tina. ”

“No, I don’t feel bad for her.  Look, if she wants to give up and die, she can go at it.  I'm not gonna feel bad about squeezing the most out of her life before that?  She’s just wastin it.   If I'm wrong and it goes another angle, we'll still be more ahead betting on that.

 

Edited August 2, 2020 by chase

[Archiviste]

Beatriz da Fontaine & Jenny Herder

Kallisti Wharf

Bea and the rescued heroine, Electrixie, arrived in Kallisti Wharf safe and sound. While Bea was escorting her to be admitted at Kallisti Medical Center, Jenny made sure Agent Smith of the FBSA would set up a guard detail.

 

Later that evening, Bea told Jenny how the rescue mission went...

 

---

 

"<I wish she had come with us...>" [*}, Bea sighed

 

"<Who?>"

 

"<... Miso-sa-zai.>" The name sounded musical in Bea's mouth.

 

"Misosazai. <Wren.>"

 

"Que?"

 

"<The name means 'Wren', a sort of bird, in Japanese. You say she told you her parents were from Argentina?>"

 

"Sim. 'La Plata", <I believe she said.>"

 

"<And she declined coming back to Paragon City with you?>"

 

"Sim. <She said she had important things to do, but I think she is still looking for the heroes.>"

 

Bea had that look in her eyes, the one that earned her the nickname 'Saint Bea of the Lost Causes' at her old high school in Sao Paulo. "Por favor, Yenny. <She could not be much older than I was when I came to Paragonn, and she seemed so lost, and alone...>"

 

Jenny smiled at her friend (or as much of a smile as her holographic emitters allowed) and put her hand on her shoulder. "<I will see what I can do>". Her eyes were already flashing, interrogating databases, and collating information.

[chase]

St Martial
Candi, Misosazai, and Saki
A few days later, hours before the 4th Hero extraction

Candi pounded on the door, shouting, "Open up already.  We brought breakfast and booze!"   

 

Saki laughed beside her "For some of us, that's one and the same! Open up!  Let's see that shiner I'd been hearing about!"   Saki- aka Sakura Kobayashi- was the one of Isabel's talents.   Smaller, fairer-featured, and a hint or two lighter-complexion than Misosazai, she could still be mistaken for her younger sister.  Remarkable given she was more than a decade older than Misosazai.  Today, though she was barking out commands in a way that transformed her into an older, wiser, and more beliggerent dragon mom.

 

"It's afternoon."  Misosazai corrected while opening the door to peek out.  She was in the bathrobe, hair still wet from the shower.  A green-and-purple bruise dominated the left side of her face.   If the girls hadn't been with her the day before with a totally unmarked face, they'd both have sworn that the bruise was a week old- well on its way to healing. 

 

Saki grabbed hold of Misosazai's chin and practically dragged her to the bathroom mirror. "I thought you were bs'ing me about it, but you've been meditating, right?  That's Kuj-in Sha working its magic. Maybe another day? Two? and this will be gone, instead of weeks.  Incredible. " She then shifted in tone from wonder to reprimand, "What were you doing, using that face to stop a kick?  Girl, that's a million-dollar smile, if you ever smiled.  Stop trying to ruin it!"

 

Candi was left hauling both the food cart and their "triage kit" (full off the 3 m's- medication, make-up, and mind-numbing booze) into the rooom.    "You were out till 4am.   You're working our shift now.   Afternoon is breakfast!"

 

The room was better than her last visit.  The bed seemed slept in.  No more blankets in the closet.   The black leather bodysuit now slumped propped up in the corner, stuffed stiff with bath towels and blankets in the futile hope that it would stretch out, kinda like a kinky headless scarecrow.

 

Miso and Saki remained in the bathroom, ignoring her.  Saki was doing most of the talking, "So many try the meditations and get nothing- y'know.  My baa-baa used to say that if they worked it meant you had oni or yokai in your bloodline somewhere.  Oh, so many questions."

 

Candi called out, "Stop talking and start applying concealer.   She's got another op in a few hours.  Gotta look the part."

 

"Bass Crouper, again?" Misosazai called out from the bathroom.

"Nope.  One of yours.  Someone found another cape!"  Both went silent.  Candi started pouring drinks. "Now get out here.  Food's cold, and I'm not waiting."

 

Misosazai was already there.  The news that of another hero rescue op was all it took,  "What do we have?"

 

Candi gestured to the food platter- a generous selection from the now-closed breakfast buffet, barely  warm.  The scrambled eggs were gummy by now, but still edible.

 

"No. Intel." Misosazai corrected.

 

"That's right- no intel.  Here's the dossier." Candi gestured with her imaginary tablet.  "Let's see, you show up at the location they'll wire you 30 min before the meet.  You do what they they tell you. You ask no questions.  You save the hero.  You come home."  

 

"Man, I've been on that exact same assignment.  Well, minus the 'save the hero' part." Saki chuckled, helping herself to a strawberry and a mimosa before even taking a seat.

 

Both new girls helped themselves to the food they pruportedly brought for Misosazai, but they both stopped abruptly when Misosazai winced sharply as she tried to squeeze into her own seat.  

 

"You're hurt.  Where?"

 

"It's nothing, maybe a bruised rib.  Been like that for a while."

 

"Let's see it."

 

"It's nothing."

 

Candi piped in, "Saki's our resident bonesaw.  She's got special forces medical training."

 

Saki corrected her, "That sounds better than it is.  One of my regulars was an 18D- a Special Forces Medical Sergeant.  when he learned I was pre-med, he showed me some things."

 

"That's what 18D means?  I though that was just code for his preferences- lookin barely legal and big up front." Candi quipped.

 

Saki flicked the remains of her strawberry at Candi, then turned full dragon-mom on Misosazai,  "If you're moving like this now, how are you going to fight?  Let me see it."

 

Misosazai just drew the bathrobe tighter.

 

"I'll pop some pills before I head out."

 

"STRIP!"

 

It could've been the dragon-mom attitude or that Miso was more concerned about the injury than she was letting on, but Candi took this as a victory that they were earning the girl's trust.  She didn't ask anyone to turn around this time or keep objecting.  She just disrobed and positioned herself so they had a full view of her left side and back. 

 

The bruising was obviously bad to even the untrained Candi, but she was grateful for Saki's more detailed analysis.

 

"..concentric rings radiating out, drifting down with gravity.   focal point suggests the 10th rib.  Each at a different stage of healing.  Looks like it's cut surrounding tissue at least 8 different times.   You got about a half inch of swelling- maybe a pus pocket- between pieces.  That's probably why you couldn't get the bones to knit. They aren't close enough."

 

She traced the rib path around to Miso's front, triggering an uncomfortable flinch. "Your tenth rib's floating.  No cartilage in front. Not uncommon in us Japanese.  Means there's nothing stiff holding that broken piece in place now.   It just moves with every hit you take, slashing your insides.  Lacerate the spleen and it could kill you."

 

Candi let out a giggle, causing both of them to stop and stare at her, "What?  I thought you were making a funny.   Y'know 'ow, my spleen!" Is that a real thing?  I thought somebody just made that up."

The silence and mutual stares just continued, until Saki broke silence, "Miso, meet a product of Etoile Islands public schools."

 

"I didn't even know they had public schools." Misosazai teased, sampling a mimosa herself before the others drank them all.

 

"So, What are our options?"  Candi switched topics.

 

"Well, Miso, you drink much?" 

 

She rapidly returned the beverage as if she'd been caught, shaking her head no.

 

"Well, you can start today.   Somewhere between can't stand and borderline poisoning.  We'll adjust from there. You need to be numbed.  It's going to hurt like hell, but I need to get the two parts closer together if your biofeedback magic is going to do the rest."

 

"No.  not today." Candi interjected. "This op is a done deal.  Maybe a few shots now, but she's gotta be sober in 4 or 5 hours."  

 

Saki continued poking around the injury, reading Misosazai's face for a pain response.  "No way you're doing that op.  Not like this. Not if you take body shots like your face took last night.   Russian Roulette would be safer." 

 

"Can you do it with her sober?"  

 

Saki was finishing off her mimosa- her second one, counting the one she had downstairs, possibly more before Candi got there.  "Maybe a pro could- maybe Facemaker, but I need her muscles relaxed and her reflexes slowed if I'm going to have even a chance at this.  Even if she's not shouting out in pain, she will tense."  She changed tone and gave Candi a playful wink,  "Also, watch your phrasing, please.  You know I can't pass up lines like that."

 

The last part went right over Misosazai's head, as she focused on the first part. "Facemaker?"

 

"Resident expert in elective or discreet surgery.  Doesn't come cheap, even for baseline stuff.  Probably would charge a couple grand for.."

 

"Ten, at least, but I'd have to check with Isabel." Candi cut her off with an angry glare.  She'd pressed all the girls to lay off any money talk so they don't ruin any opportunity for additional markup.  This wasn't helping. "Facemaker's... uh... got a side in fashion, so we sometimes get different rates than mercs would."

 

"She wears Tina's stuff"  Saki said, clearly not getting it.

 

"She wears Tina's stuff differently!" 

 

"Well yeah, with the pants..." Saki reached absently for another mimosa, but Candi blocked her.

 

"No, I mean as a merc.  We wear Facemaker's stuff as eyecandy- kinda walking billboards.  Mercs don't.. but yeah... Miso- you really should lose the pants.  Like, whenever you can.  I mean, the look's cute, but those legs are killer.  Show off your moneymakers."

 

"The rest's real good moneymaking material too," Saki said, pointing a twirling finger at Miso in one hand as she sipped from another... where did she get THAT one from? The comment prompted Misosazai to quickly recover the bathrobe and cinch it tight, but the other girls hardly noticed as they playfully bantered.

 

"Well, yeah, that's a given, but wearing body armor takes priority over flashing those assets."

 

"Silver Mantis proves you can do both."

 

The exchange went on for a few minutes, name-dropping various heroines and villains, their costumes, and their effectiveness, and whether they could do better with more or less (usually less) flesh covering.  At one point, Candi pulled out her smartphone to find examples of fanart that was far better than the actual costumes, while Saki relied on shouting her retorts back.

 

Finally Misosazai brought them back to topic, calmly stating, "The pants stay.   My fighting style's all kicks.   Even if my legs aren't all bruised up, I'm not flashing my panties at everyone trying to kill me." 

 

"My favorite moneymaker! Oh- Facemaker has a whole line of lingere, maybe if you were modeling that you'd get a discou.."Saki piped out before giving a late-but-knowing look to Candi," ... I mean, it's a really exclusive and expensive line but so worth it."

 

Miso had turned to fish something from between the mattresses to catch the eye exchange.   She brought out a tiny electronic device the size of a watch.  "Could this help?"

 

Saki recognized it immediately.  "A medical transporter!  Girl, whatever you do, don't activate that.   If you're lucky, it'll send you straight to an Arachnos prison cell.  If you're not, it'll take you to one of the isle's best worst medical facilities."

 

"Yeah, the only time instruments in those places get sterilized is when a worker spills their booze on them. 

 

Where did you get that, anyway?  You said you weren't a registered hero."

 

Misosazai shrugged "Some catgirl gave me hers- told me not to use it, except in emergency.  She wasn't sure if it'd just work or if it'd catgirl-ify me or something."

 

"I don't think it would, but maybe that's how they recover so fast- keeping a healthy-state scan in memory or something.  Even then, though- that would be held at the hospital, not the transponder, so you're probably safe.  I still wouldn't use unless I was at deaths' door.   Not unless you wanted extended 1 on 1 time with an arachnos interrogator- and I don't recommend that.   We had one as a client a few years back and he never seemed to be able to separate work and play." Saki had put down her drink, then started waving with both hands, as if she had a revelation, "Hey Candi- imagine- if the transponder DID catgirl-ify you- and if you could reverse it- that'd be a great prop for neko nights, eh?"

 

Misosazai raised an eyebrow, "Do I want to know?"

 

"It's kinda a semi-annual thing.   Easiest money I ever had.  Cruise ships full of salarymen come in for conventions.  The girls show up wearing cat ears, hotpants with tails attached,  paw mittens & stocking and just act ridiculous.  You're sweeping money off the floor by the end of the night."  Saki made a grand gesture with her arms raking in the dough.  

 

"Forget acting ridiculous.  Miso, you could just stand there and do the 'go away' glare you do to all the guys downstairs, and you'd proably still clear a grand an hour.   Hell, I was paid $500 just to eat sushi wearing ears, a tail, and nothing else." Candi interjected.

 

"How'd the tail stay on?"  Saki laughed.

 

"Huh?" 

 

"If you weren't wearing anything else.  How'd the tail stay on?"

 

"Uncomfortably."

 

The trio laughed, but Misosazai's deep blush sparked a second round of jeers from Saki and Candi.

 

"Ccostume-glue silly!  Same as pasties.  Where was your mind?"

 

Misosazi tried to defend herself, but they just kept teasing her. 

 

"Miso, love,  relax.  We know.  Makes me wonder what websites our innocent one is visiting at that open hotspot you frequent."  Saki grabbed Misosazi's phone from the charger and tossed it to Candi, continuing the tease.  "You're too young for those sites.  Do we need to enable parent controls, Candi?"

 

"Lemme see."  Candi giggled, as she quickly opened the mail and downloaded the program she'd sent while looking up the costumes earlier.  Looks like Saki's shouting had been unnecessary.  Notifications were off.  The program installed without a hitch  just as the tech had said.  Tracking and mirroring was now enabled.  "Nope, nothing in history.  She's either clearing the cache well or our girl's just a natural perv."

 

She tossed the phone back to Misosazai, who was desperately trying to change the subject.  

 

"Back to tonight's op.   I'm doing it.   I've been dealing with this for weeks.  It can last another day.   After that we'll discuss whether I get good n drunk with Saki..."

 

"My favorite plan!" Saki shouted in celebration.

 

"... or whether we see the facemaker, I guess. "

 

"Probably the smarter plan, but not nearly as fun!" Saki confirmed, sagely.

 

"Candi, do you think Isabel would front me the money in exchange for more merc work?"

 

Candi smiled.  According to Isabel, they were already far ahead on this.  Getting M "owing" them farther was just a double-win.  "I don't think she'll have a problem with that, but I'll find out. I take it that's our cue to leave? You probably need to meditate again tonight."

 

"Actually, there's only so much Kuj-in Sha I can take before my mind starts going places I don't want to go.   if you don't mind sticking around- there's plenty of food for everyone and  I could use some help afterward getting into that leather monstrosity."

 

Saki sat back down to the food and waved Candi off.   "I got this.  Go.  I can still apply some anti-inflammatories and other stuff to numb her up, too.  Maybe other stuff, too.  Just send up lunch when it's ready."

 

Candi really needed to get back to the tech and confirm the stealth install was working.   She'd been worried about leaving Saki inside- she seemed far too friendly with Miso and far too drunk for that to end well, but the wink she gave on that last line let her know Saki was still firmly in her camp and planning ahead.   If there was anything wrong with the phone hack, she'd be in place to give it another try, and the message could be sent via room service. 

 

As she closed the door, she called out, "If by numb, you mean booze, keep it light ok?  And Miso, keep an eye on Saki. Don't let her get too bombed.   She's got work tonight too."

Edited August 11, 2020 by chase

[Badkittynecril]

Founders Falls

Tabby, Psychlone, Ragamuffyn, and a poor, suffering Vanguard doorman.

"Ok, now remember- NO KILLING," Tabby lectured the others -again- as they started down the monorail ramp. The trip over had been uneventful. Uneventful as a car full of commuters all staring silently forward, not acknowledging anyone around them in the slightest. Psychlone looked inordinantly pleased at that. Ragamuffyn, meanwhile, had just bounced in her seat, humming to herself and kicking her legs in girlish fashion. Overall, a tad high on the creepy factor for Tabby, but so were monorail rides in general.

 

"The Vanguard recruiting station or base or whatever is over there. Guard up front, must get lonely, maybe he'll chat. Keep a low profile."

 

"I will keep the lowest profile," answered Rags proudly, "I'll stay so still...that I'll be invisible to the naked eye..." She waved four bandaged fingers in front of her mask while making ominous 'whoosh' sounds.

 

Tabby sighed, turned the corner and immediately saw the guard at the building's front door. She made wild, largely indecypherable gestures first toward a military truck parked nearby and then to the others. Finally, she cleared her throat, composed herself, and put on a cheerful face.  

 

"Hi!"

 

"Ma'am," issued the Vanguard trooper in a polite if perfunctory tone. His expression was utterly impossible to discern through the Impervium helmet he wore, and he remained almost motionless with his arms clasped behind his back.

 

"I...um, I'm Tabby. I was hoping you could help me."

 

Luckily, the streets seemed quiet. Around the corner, Rags smiled with her eyes to Psychlone and looked for a good location from which to take cover and watch. The girl might have been mad as a Rikti monkey but she still had enough logic in her pea brain to know one thing: Walking up to an 'enemy of the Gods' waving her rifle was probably not the brightest tactic. Not for recon anyway. For her part, Psychlone just sat down on a nearby bench and pretended to read a discarded newspaper. Utterly inconspicuous and incognito. She even wore sunglasses.

 

"What do you need, ma'am?" The trooper asked, still not moving. The man may as well have been an Impervium statue.

 

"Well, for starters, I...um...I started orientation with Vanguard a few weeks back, but y'know, hero things came up and I'm really not sure if it ever got completed or if I have to start over or if, well, I dunno..."

 

"Orientation and registry officials are inside and through the portal, ma'am. If you have completed orientation, it will be on file." The trooper's words had an even and regular rhythm to them - Likely, he was simply spouting canned phrases at her.

 

"Thanks, but I was kinda hoping that maybe you had a way to check for me from here? I mean, you've got to know who to let in and not, and to be honest, the whole portal thing kinda wigs me out- leaves me all fluffed- static electricity's a bitch."

 

"I am just the door guard, ma'am. You are cleared to enter. You would already have been alerted to the contrary if you were not."

Meanwhile, Rags had slunk behind the heavy transport across the street, not far from where Psychlone was seated. Unseen and off to a good start. Maybe they wouldn't have any trouble with this after a-

Suddenly, the vagrant's eyes widened, for they had met with a horrifying sight: A man in shades walking down the street toward them...in a hawaiian shirt.

The telltale sign of undercover PPD.

Ragamuffyn's mind scrambled for her next move. It was just a shirt, right? But not just any shirt, she thought nodding to herself. No...her hyper-attuned senses and peerless cunning knew the wily ways of the enemy. They knew a threat when they saw one. And it was coming closer.

He could notice Psychlone! He could notice her! Quietly panicking, the hoodied miscreant reached for a small, green-silver pistol in her pocket and tried to act natural as she leaned against the truck.

"Ok, thanks...umm...Could you tell me something about protocol before I go in?" Tabby thumbed through her phone to the NaughtyNeko pics from inside the Vanguard base. "Last time I was here, someone leaked these to the press...Are Vanguard soldiers allowed to take pics in the briefing room? Is there a camera in that helmet?"

 

The Vanguard trooper finally actually moved, noticeably averting their gaze from the displayed imagery of the phone. "Please direct all inquiries to the head of personnel in the forward base."

 

Beyond, Rags vibrated against the large vehicle, waiting as the man with hideous fashion sense drew nearer and near. Finally, he crossed behind and she squeaked out a "Hey there!"

 

Tabby sheathed her smartphone, "Is it a violation, or am I just overreacting? I really don't want to go through all the discomfort of a portal for an overreaction."  A flash of green light and a muffled *zap* came from behind the truck.

 

Psychlone blinked, momentarily turning, owl-like, to stare at what had happened not far from her. Ragamuffyn brandished a cheery thumbs, laying down the unconscious man next to the truck's huge wheels. ("No killing! Job well done!") She turned her attention back to her paper. And the guard.

Tabby was...loud, and distracting. Mentally speaking of course. Especially when trying to see passed layers of Impervium and psy-blockers. Though amusingly enough, his flinching at the images might have been enough to make his control slip and so the psychic tried get a toe-hold.

 

"It is not really my business to say, ma'am," spoke the trooper, finally returning his gaze to the catgirl. A hint of wavering impatience had begun to creep into the trooper's voice, although he was evidently trying to stick to his script.

 

"But you'd know if this was allowed or not, right?  Oh! Wait...Is this-  Are you supposed to be like those Buckingham Palace guards, or the tomb? Are you supposed to just stand there and do nothing but stick to a tight script? Omygosh. I'm totally screwing this up for you, aren't I?"

 

"You can check our website or contact Vanguard Helm via phone," the trooper supplied pointedly, "I am authorized to provide you with a number for one of their lines."

 

"Shit. So you are like the guards there...I'm SO sorry. I'll make sure to relay up the chain some commendation on your resolve here. I mean, you've been awesome. It's just me being pushy. I have a tendency to do that- and talk too much, right?  What's the phone number?"

 

The door guard sighed, waves of exasperation wafting off of him as he checked his communicator for the number. Luckily for the trio, it was just long enough for him not to notice the second flash of green. Nor the unconscious fat man being dragged behind the truck. This time someone who had made the mistake of leaning over to look at Psychlone's newspaper. A pained yelp came from behind the transport moments later, as Rags' strength slipped and her hefty human cargo flattened her to the pavement.

 

Yes, but what about the Dagger? Psychlone tried focusing, hoping to make him slip and say something.  Difficult through all the shielding and doubly so when she was trying to do it unnoticed. Did he even know anything about the Dagger? If not, who did? What she saw was fuzzy and nebulous - it could have meant he knew nothing, but with all the layers of protection, it could have just as easily been the armor and tech doing their job, shielding sensitive information. There was nothing for it but to dig deeper and hope Tabby could create a bigger chink in his disposition. Something Psychlone could exploit.

 

As Tabby typed down the number, she just babbled: "Yeah, so I figured I'd better get my orientation done- I started working on a special assignment- y'know- the dagger thingy that the news says some Rogue Vanguard faction took, or something, and I thought, 'I better be checking with them.' For all I knew, Vanguard could be in the middle of this world-threatening event and needed the dagger and maybe they just blamed this rogue group as a way to buy time. I don't wanna be - y'know- stepping all over toes and possibly screwing things up for them, but I really didn't want to run into the creep that posted those pics."  She blinked innocently, then held the phone up to show the number. "Is that right?"

 

That knocked the trooper off balance, as if Tabby had just performed the mental equivalent of judo-throwing him to the ground. Several distinct emotions and associated memories began to leak through his defenses like the distant smell of rot. Feelings of anger and resentment. Of betrayal. Strong enough to be creeping through all the psi-blockers and Impervium at a mere mention.

"I really think you should head inside and proceed to Orientation ma'am," spoke the trooper, the faintest crack in their voice flying by in the first two words, "I'm just the door guard."

 

By that point, Rags had succeeded in pushing the man off and thankfully saw no one else trotting down the street. Satisfied with her little pile of sleepers, she squeezed under the truck like a bedraggled little weasel and pulled them as far underneath as she could. She then adjusted herself, quietly readied her rifle, and took aim at the soldier...just in case.

 

Psychlone too had found her target. The issue with a lot of anti-psi training, was that it was exponentially more difficult to keep something out that was already in. Psychlone was mostly ignorant of the fine details. Psychlone just saw an opening. And so she tried to follow the emotions back to their source.

 

What she saw were faces; memories of various individuals known, packaged and layered with feelings of regret, guilt, and hatred. These were the faces of rogues. Their details were largely indistinct and blurry, possibly due to interference or maybe the trooper's own imperfect memories. There were other images here as well, with similar emotional underpinnings: The distinctive color scheme and outline of a Longbow Warden's helm. With traces of accompanying contempt. There was certainly a lot to unpack, but what could be done discretely without alerting the trooper? That was yet unclear.

 

"And a good door guard.  I'll give you that. Y'know, that guy that took those pics, he sent me one of his johnson. Can you imagine? I mean, I know that catgirls have a reputation, but who does that?"  Tabby realized then that she really should have set up some sort of signal ahead of time with Psy, because she had no clue how long she needed to keep this up.

 

Those words, on the other hand, had been singularly unhelpful. The moment Tabby mentioned 'johnson' and 'catgirl' in such close proximity, the trooper's emotional state began to pinwheel and a combination of panic and subconscious damage control both began to surge through the floodgates, banishing the mental imagery and emotions Tabby had just evoked.

 

"GAH! SHIT!" Given how linked the two were at the moment, someone else also got a brainful of unwanted mental images.

 

"...You..." the trooper croaked. "...If that, uh, if you have evidence of harassment or misconduct by a member of Vanguard, you really, really should discuss it directly with the head of personnel or with a representative from Vanguard Helm. I honestly cannot help you there ma'am, I really am just supposed to mind the door."

 

Tabby, blissfully unaware and thinking she might be breaking his guard, started swiping through her phone.

 

"Yeah, I never delete anything...lemme find it." 

 

Psychlone winced, then suddenly got an idea. An awful idea. Psychlone had a wonderful, awful idea. In most circumstances, this would blow their cover. If she led with it, certainly, but given everything going on right now?  She focused, and tried to plant something in his brain. A command, a belief: 

 

<TELL HER EVERYTHING ABOUT THE DAGGER AND ALL THIS GOES AWAY>

 

The man froze. Already, Psychlone could see signs the implanted mental imperative had taken root, at least at the subconscious level - and she could tell that he was about to open his mouth and blurt out something sensitive.

 

But at the same time, blaring alarm klaxons were going off in his head, and his internal, mental gaze - his third eye - had suddenly painted her presence in a spotlight. The jig was up.

 

"Look, Freedom Corps are the ones going after the Dagger and deal regularly with oversexed catgirls-" The trooper then immediately shut up and began to back away towards the doors leading into the compound, scanning the nearby rooftops abruptly.  

 

Tabby knew from his body language that her cover was blown...but she was also fuming.

"Oversexed? OVERSEXED CATGIRLS?! You- I'll show you an oversexed ca...Wait, not like that! I mean...Oh, damnit..."

 

Then a sudden voice rang out in her mind. A familiar sense of intrusion; a mental sensation not unlike expecting the final step of a staircase and meeting only air.

<I'VE GOT IT!  TIME TO GO!>

 

Snarling, Tabby stormed off in the direction of the monorail- her first step almost a trip, but she recovered enough to maintain decorum while continuing her rant, "Personnel is gonna hear about this, lemme tell you! Me? Oversexed catgirl?  ME?  I'M an oversexed catgirl?!" She turned the corner, should have made a beeline for the monorail, but stopped, seething internally, still trying to work together a better respone. One came to her, but when she turned back to give a piece of her mind, Psychlone nudged her again to leave. 

 

The psychic then stood up from her bench and wiped her nose clean with a sleeve. Deep red. Nosebleed again. A side-effect of her power, or so she claimed. 

 

Meanwhile, still under the truck, the little vagrant had kept her gun trained on the soldier the entire time. Now he was backing away, suspicious, looking this way and that. To Rags, things were turning tense really quick and so the options began to simmer in her mind:

DING.

• Option 1: Shoot him.
• Option 2: Figure out how exactly the undercarriage of this thing worked and wire it to EXPLODE gloriously. That could throw off their scent...right?
• Option 3: Move open that manhole cover and slink back into the bowels of the city. Like she always did.
• Option 4: First 1. Then 2. THEN 3. IT WAS GENIUS!

The girl grinned maniacally behind her mask, the image of the beautiful blue-green BOOM flashing before her eyes...until she spied Tabby making her exit. Angry but without any hint of impending struggle. Rags blinked in utter bewilderment at this sudden turn of events and whined for the missed opportunity. With that, she began slinking back out from under the truck. Tabby had told them not to cause a scene so she'd refrain...this time. Still, she resolved to pout about this anti-climax at length.

 

Of course, her two unconscious victims were left beneath the truck, addled under its tall undercarriage. Someone would find them, eventually. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't exploded the thing. Pehaps she could have put them in the manhole first. The thoughts quickly came and went, squeezed out by her immeasurable disappointment.

 

The girls made a hasty retreat to the monorail, with Rags and Psychlone both intervening to keep Tabby moving in the right direction. "He...he called me an oversexed catgirl..." she said, calming down, obviously seeking consolation from her friends. Instead she got a long stare from Psychlone who had evidently not forgotten the mental slideshow, and a chipper, blinking nod from Ragamuffyn, who didn't quite grasp the negativity of the phrase.

 

Finally, the monorail arrived and they stepped in. Tabby's ears flattened and a ridge of fur on her back pulsed up and down with her breath. She took one last look down at the Vanguard base and muttered,  "Shoulda blown up the truck."

Rags silently nodded in agreement...before doing a doubletake and reaching back out toward the building with tragic desperation. The doors closed and her shoulders sagged in disappointment; an opportunity lost forever.  

The only seats available together were far in the front, directly opposite a recruiting poster for Freedom Corps. Mynx, of all people, was on prominent display. Tabby did a flourish in its direction and in one last holler ranted,  "Yet I'm the oversexed catgirl?!"

 

Many heads peeked over in her direction. She froze.

 

"Psych...you did do that mental freeze thing when we came in here, right?"

 

"Nah, I'm tapped," Psychlone replied with a matter-of-fact shrug as she kicked back and relaxed.

 

Tabby sunk into her seat, "They're all looking at me aren't they?"

 

Ragamuffyn spun in her own seat, waved, and chirped, "Yep!"

 

Tabby sunk further and closed her eyes tight, trying to remember how many stops she had before the Brickstown exit, praying it was only one. She curled her knees into her chest and tucked her head down.  She wasn't going to move, think, look anywhere, or say anything until they got there, then it was going to be a beeline to her apartment. For the rest of her life.

 

Rags, with perceptions ever distorted, was not entirely certain why Tabby was so distraught, nor why Psychlone seemed more aloof than usual. She tapped her mask pensively before perking up with a flash of inspiration. After all, she did know one thing that made everyone feel better!

 

Well, it made her feel better at least. So why wouldn't it make everyone else feel good, too?

 

Slowly, she reached toward Tabby with a scaly, bandaged hand...and proceeded to gently stroke at her fur.

 

"Pet kitty."

 

Tabby groaned, in annoyance and seemingly frustrated satisfaction alike, all the way back to Brickstown.