[u][b]Omnivore[/b][/u]

[u]Meanwhile in a dilapidated office inside an abandoned warehouse on the docks...[/u]

No longer shrouded by a tarp Anny stood hunched over the dead body of a middle aged man with premature balding and an expensive looking suit. She was in her usual getup, a white metallica t-shirt and faded khaki cargo pants with her hair wild and about like a sort of proud silver mane. She found it hard to style her hair without sacrificing practicality since the hair needed to be free to splay out for extra shock-itude.

With one hand she reached down, digging her claws into the dead man's stomach like she was reaching for some potato chips and pulling out a small minced heap of human tripe. With her other hand she was busy looking at her claws, casually examining them for spots and scratch marks that needed buffing. She wanted her blades to look nice and shiney for her next kill. While she was sort of waiting on her agent to call she couldn't say she'd of been crestfallen if he failed to. She had been setting up her next hit for a couple weeks now, hunting down those who were involved with |Project Neuropath| so she can figure out when they're going to be shipping out the prototypes.

_
She took a hearty bite out of her handful of human flesh, her teeth cutting the meat into swallowable chunks. The answering machine blinked a little red light, sitting right next to an old cherry red rotary phone upon the office desk. Taking her clean claws she reached over and gently pressed a dial with the pointed tip of her index claw.

<"Hai-hai! You've reached Anny's handy answering machine! She can't reach the phone right now so please leave a message after the beep! Beep~!"> The cheery prerecorded message finally beeped for real, the message left following after.

[b]A fake ghost, a Victorian brawler, and a drug addict. A less united force I could not conceive of myself. Heh.

You’ve been wired the money necessary for your next fight, so you’re aware. After this, you’ll have to pay your own way into each battle.

Savile Fist, you’re rank 199. The lowest in the experiment, for reference. Speaking of experiments, look for The Scientist in the cryo lab of Destroy University. You may encounter Chroma at the university too; if you do, ignore him.

Omnivore, you’re at rank 130. You’ll find Rainbow Stakes in the Bow and Arrow Theatre.

Whiteout, you’re rank 146. Maxi Million is in one of the skyscrapers in the Destroy Central Plaza; you’ll get more info on which one precisely when you get there.

Trust your Force, and head for the Garden of Madness.[/b]

Anny dabbed down her bloodied claws with a moist towelette clutched in her tongue's metal claw grip, the closest thing she had to saliva. It was good that her exterior metals were all stainless composites, it made washing up that few steps less laborious and removed the threat of growing rusty, something she had no intention of becoming in both the literal and metaphorical sense.

She huffed as the message ran to finish. "Fake ghost? Hah. I'm the closest thing to a ghost any o' these normies are ever gonna see. I'll bet Rainbow Stakes will wish she saw a ghost soon... As if she'd even see me coming."

Leaving what remained of the man she was devouring on the floor Anny stood up from her hunched position into a still hunched but less so position and went over to the window. The sun had yet to set so she'd go do some homework on her opponent first largely to kill time. Daintily lifting the window she stepped out, gripping the wall below the window sill with her talons. The yellowing day lit sky cast it's glow over the bay and the docks before it. Reaching up she pulled herself onto the roof of the warehouse, shutting the window with her feet before gripping the edge of the roof and kicking off into a leap. Diving down she landed nimbly upon the shipping container below, only mildly scratching it with her talons. She set off, leaping from container to container until she reached the streets where she took to the tops of buildings instead. It was off to the public library, after closing time of course.