*Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Click-...* A small box-like structure is flipped open, one ball-joint allows it to split in half to expand its rectangular shape. Pale fingers hold said shape to a cold face creased by concerned features. One word shimmers atop our devices outline, "Earth." "Yeah?" A gentle voice grates through damaged vocal cords. "This is senior agent Hernandez of the CMA. Your number is in our records regarding-" A brass-tax, effeminate voice warbles through an alien translator into the ear of the one who holds our communications box. "Ahllasta?" He'd say, sighing all the while. Several fingers begin to pace his temples anxiously. "-Y-yeah..." Hernandez would say, having been thrown off by an interruption. "-You see, she's been displaying a consistent lack of respect for authority. You're listed as her *Papers shuffle*... uhm, retainer?" "Yes, yes. I'm-... on my way." Soft-spoken sorrow paints an anguished demeanor in shades of brief hesitance. "W-well you don't need to come here. I'm citing embassador's rights to expedite her removal from our Earth-Space jurisdiction! Under regulatory-" Hernandez is cut off once more just as her voice climbs into throngs of judicial anger. "Senior agent Hernandez. You can't claim ambassador privileges as a tertiary power. You 'can' claim assistance from a transfer retainer. Don't worry; we aren't all like her." Our man's bristly words float with a light-hearted authority. "Look here! I'm the supervisor to your 'Councils' little transfer program, what I say-!" *Click!* Hernandez is cut short by a closing of the communications box. The box is eventually stored inside a pseudo-hoodies front pocket. One spidery hand withdraws a small notebook from the same pocket. Once-opened, the first page of this pamphlet displays only a giant question mark. "Outer-lands, Earth." Hoarse words bounce against crumpled pages. Once the words mentioned above are spoken the notebook begins to alight with various throngs of written information for several pages to come. Several moments are spent flipping through salvaged history and statistics pertaining to the local political climate. For several minutes this continues until that communications box is pulled back into open space. *Click!* "EFC" With that spoken command the cube vibrates and rings, sending some strange signal into deep space. "This is the EFC. Central line." Metallic chords ring against an ivory ear. "C-K-SB. Requesting full ambassador and temporary governance rights for an outer world, Earth. Secondary requests: same surrounding sol rights, a class five regulator, and, uhm...-" The man stops for a moment to rub at tightening neck-muscles with his free hand. "- Actually, make that three class six regulators, and an all-silent transport. Sage S-backing." Roughly twenty seconds are spent in silence after this request; anxious fingers continue to rub against a tense nape. "All permissions granted. Transport and supplies to arrive at your present locale." Automated syllables persevere until finally ending with a *Click!*. The communications box shuts again. Our man looks out across his surrounding landscape. A greenish sunset collides with a crimson sky in the distance. He sighs at the burden of monitoring an impulsive huntress such as Ahllasta. Regardless, what truly troubles this wizard residing countless light-years from Earth isn't a ferocious woman, it's what was referred to as a 'Standing Ambassador's Contract' for Earth. This contract spoke of an ancient myth even this man had heard of on his far-removed homeworld — the tale of Pahn. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ahllasta finds herself to be suddenly plagued by an inexplicable feeling of dread. Her gut is better than she'd bargain for it to be. "You're right, we [i]don't[/i] have time to argue!" Her voice shoots through grating teeth, each canine sounding more like a tumbling boulder than anything a human can audibly produce. With these words, her body begins to radiate an overwhelming presence. Thoughts and ideas pour from her feral figure like an ocean being spilled out of a cup. Gnashing teeth, searing steam, roaring bonfires in the distance, dark shadows looming in every direction; all of these things cascade into Anora's psyche without resistance as Ahllasta begins to look even more intimidating as if she'd somehow gained twelve feet in size. Though she hasn't actually increased in height, it wouldn't stop Anora from possibly perceiving her feet to be big enough to squish her completely. "Want to bet your exhausted magic supply on a fight with me?!" Ahllasta would say, her words followed by deep and thunderous vibratto. You'd sooner call her words thunder than thinking them to be anything like speech. Each syllable spills like a landslide into the open air. Perhaps she's bluffing about knowing Anora's current state, either way, it'd be hard to make a bet against that body which now literally permeates a predators presence. The aforementioned ambiguous force would be just weak enough as to not totally overwhelm Anora nor cause her to lose consciousness. -------------------------------------------------------- Sweltering heat spills as a searing mist into Darsby's conscious space. Somehow, Ahllasta's unregulated presence is affecting him inside his invisible realm. This sensation begins to reawaken memories both old and recent in his mind. He can hear a woman shouting something about revenge while his chest slowly starts to burn. His mind begins to home into its present circumstance at a higher pace than before.