[center][h3][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4430140]Paulie Cooper[/url][/h3][hr]Date: 2nd August 2017
Location: Streets of Manhattan, NYC
Time: 2:30 AM
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmSp4KX7MoM][img]http://i.imgur.com/KdzywDR.png[/img][/url]
[hr]
[/center]

	The first drag always felt like the first time to Paulie. Every one after felt forced, a fling accidentally turned relationship because it was the thing to do. This is why she preferred to smoke with friends, passing rolled tobacco or pot around like a shared experience. It was just another example of community working itself into something to be wanted if you were looking. Alone, she had all of these singular instances where engaging felt like the first time every time. The next man she pulled into her van felt like the first man pulled into her van... and then he was every other man she'd pulled into her van.

	The next friend she'd abducted at the end of a burn to take on an interstate journey for comfort felt like the first friend she'd abducted at the end of a burn to take on an interstate journey for comfort. Then, they were every other friend she'd abducted at the end of a burn to take on an interstate journey for comfort.

	Paulie was sitting cross-legged on a street bench, laptop in front of her, her expression sleepy and pensive. She had a cigaratte in one hand and a homemade mug in the other. The mug held coffee from a vending machine and irish from a bottle in the backpack at her side. She was wearing some of Rozzle's clothes; a kaleidoscopic, baggy tie-dye t-shirt, manycolored patchwork baggy pants, and a pair of Simon's boots that fit her giantess feet. Music played faintly from a usb speaker plugged into her phone. Ms. John Soda, part of a playlist of their complete discography a friend had sent her some time ago.

	On her screen was an open browser with a series of tabs. There were news reports about a killing spree in the streets of NYC and a detailed article about the train crash in Virginia from the previous day. There was also Paulie's custom browser for Guildserv, open to a few pages with to-the-minute intelligence reports detailing Dark Shadow's attacks. Paulie's custom browser encrypted everything behind walls of intermingled languages and syntax that her eyes could pick apart in a moment. It was one of those most precious secrets about her magic.

	The next job she did for a secretive, draconian and dangerous magocratic entity with delusions of grandeur and a casual disregard for life felt like the first job she did for a mysterious, selective, and nobly misguided entity with relatable interests and a genuine concern for life. Then it was every other job she'd done for a secretive, draconion and dangerous magocratic entity with delusions of grandeur and a casual disregard for life.

	It reminded her of being too stoned to stop.

	Several years ago when she'd read about how The Guild had broken Dark Shadow's back, it was what brought out Paulie's sympathies in the first place. Yet more victims of the De Silva dynasty, whose crimes against mages and non-magi spanned almost three centuries back. It was why she was happy to work for Dark Shadow in secret and at a distance. She'd helped break a Guild cell upstate. She'd ousted an agent in Gainesville. She'd compromised the compound where they'd sequestered her for most of her teenage years in Virginia. How many of the people she'd screwed over were still alive if this was what Dark Shadow was actually capable of?

	That was what had sent Paulie pulling Rozzle's pants on and running out the door without a phone or a word to anyone about where she was going. She still felt a sick little stone in her stomach, tunbling with the current of her thoughts. Getting inside NYC had been easy. Getting out wasn't going to be now that she'd logged onto Guildserv. She was trapped and she was trapped in a Dark Shadow cell. She was getting ready to joing their ranks as more than a faceless confidant. And that meant she was too useful to leave.

	Paulie reviewed the reports again, pouring over each tab one at a time as the hour went on. A drunk tuxedo who appeared to be as in the mood to say and do nothing as she was had a seat on the bench beside her. Eventually she packed the mug in her backpack, then her laptop. She pressed her face into her hands, air hissing through her fingertips.

	[i]How do I play this out?[/i]	

[center][i]bang...[/i] [b][i]bang...[/i][/b][hr]Location: A well lit basement, somewhere
Time: 3:50 AM
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8cmbmwFAl8][img]http://i.imgur.com/KdzywDR.png[/img][/url]
[hr][i]BANG...[/i] [i][b]BANG![/b][/i][/center]

	The next clip she emptied into a mannequin for target practice felt like the first clip she emptied into a mannequin for target practice. Then it was every other clip she'd emptied into a mannequin for target practice. It didn't matter how good your headphones were or how much the room you were in felt like a corporate grotto. You could feel the tension snap against your arms, round after round. You could watch flecks of plastic tear like hide canvas. You could, if you felt creative, stuff the mannequin parts with goosedown. It was a liberating experience every single time. It was more honest than people.

	If nothing else, Aliira was right.

	Paulie emptied the magazines from her pistols in a few quick motions, loading them again, safeties on, and stowing them back in her backpack. It hadn't been a good night. She didn't want to stay. Simon was getting worse. The pattern was thicker--every few minutes the conversation would flow one way and Simon was stone. It made her sick to think about now. Rozzle shouldn't be here. Paulie shouldn't be here. But they both had needed money, and Paulie owed Rozzle her time and protection. Her companionship.

	If she was already this close, Paulie needed to stay the course. Rozzle at least was leaving today. That'd save her some time. Paulie knew she'd be meeting multiple mages from Dark Shadow, so she might as well be prepared. Paulie knew who her targets would be. She knew who her friends would be too and, if nothing else, The Guild knew to be on the lookout for her. Hopefully Aliira knowing Paulie's plans meant that Salem would know too, that her being seen in an operation would be just the sort of diversion necessary. It was just the kind of honesty she enjoyed best--the one where Paulie could be trusted to lie to [i]everyone[/i].