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[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190313/8f36699659ebb5d021c7238610ff6b7b.png[/img]

~ [i]Contact[/i] ~[/center]

Rebecca had taken a station to the edge of the battlefield. For the most part, she barely understood what exactly had been transpiring here. The darkness, the fog wall, the Horror minions - her best guess lay somewhere in the realms of The Bates, if only because of the fight with Abigail, one of the missing Beacon Girls tied with the two Monsters. But Rebecca's understanding was terminal, and she was doing a poor job of finding out more. But that wasn't her job anymore. As much as Christine insisted it was, Rebecca was no longer a Journalist. She was a Tasker.

But, watching the field, and the sky, and the people that navigated both, it became increasingly clear that the battle had ended. The dragon had vanished, the fog had subsided, and the entity in the sky was nowhere to be seen. As Rebecca scanned the environment, it began to dawn just how popular the event had been. People from every organisation she knew of, and from those she was unaware of, had congregated. The more she looked, the more Rebecca considered the possibility: that every power in Penrose had been present this day. From an outside perspective, it caught the Shinobi with awe.

Her eyes cast downwards, to the floor of the graveyard. She needed to be out, and up there, getting herself involved. She needed to be seen. Rebecca's weight shifted from foot to foot, until she dropped herself down onto an unbroken headstone. In contemplation, she pulled the sword from her back out onto her lap. A sword that came from nowhere, she thought. In her hands, even with the sheath it weighed nigh perfectly. And it was a beautiful thing, with a scabbard of deep and rich reddish-brown wood, nicked and scuffed from a history of savage combat. In her hands, Rebecca could feel the power behind it, an Odachi some hundred centimetres in length, she had guessed. Its hilt was wrapped in coarse, thick bindings, entwining it from the pommel to the shaped metal guard, sculpted into a ten petalled flower.

Such a savage weapon would be awe-inspiring to wield, Rebecca understood that. And it frightened her. The more she held it, the more it exuded something, that bled into her hands and head, and brought upon her that same migraine once again. At first, Rebecca had mistaken it for a gift from Bravaan. He hated her actions, and her choices of allegiance, but no doubt, he would be capable of producing such a weapon. And yet that didn't fit him. No, Rebecca understood just where the weapon had come from now, even if its true origins evaded her. This was a blade born of nothing, created of some tumultuous chaos of silence. It was a terrible thing.

In confusion and dismay, she swung it onto her back once more. It would be impractical to draw from there, but that wasn't a concern. Not yet. Rebecca had a mission to complete. The last mission she would ever truly complete for The Penrose Independent, she imagined. It was a sad concept, as Rebecca withdrew her notepad and pen, but one that had to be done. The Boss would not accept failure on something so important. But with the darkness and fog wall dissipated, and the desolated graveyard illuminated in the light of the afternoon, there would be no way to make it to the floating platform - the center of attention, and where Rebecca could spy Alicia Hayden.

[center][colour=Thistle][i]You've probably never heard of me, but my name is Rebecca Suthers. Former Journalist to The Penrose Independent, seeking assistance for both my acquaintances and myself from Beacon. 

I know you have no reason to believe me, but I need help urgently. My phone number is 202-555-0167. You're a Seraph, so you have to be the best person to ask. Whenever you have the chance to meet in private, please contact me.

 - Rebecca[/i][/colour][/center]
 
On the paper, Rebecca scribbled out a message. The thing read perfectly, in clear and fluent English, though the words themselves were scrawled. It was a messy job, obviously done quickly, with little regard for complete legibility. But the important sections were readable. A sigh escaped Rebecca's lips, and she muttered  [colour=Thistle]"Canne believe ah'm fuckin' doin' this shite."[/colour] The displeasure was all her as she folded up the piece of A3, lined paper. One side at a time, until it sat in a square of material, as uncomfortable as possible. And then Rebecca closed it into her hand, and dipped it into the white, left side pocket of her military uniform, until the darkness enveloped it.
 
Then it was gone, teleported through the shadows, up to the floating platform. It was an unconventional usage for her Specialisation, Rebecca mused, but this wasn't her first information delivery mission. The ability to transport items from one place to another visible was more than a modicum useful, The Boss had assured her. And it seemed she was right. With nary a second delay, Alicia would feel the thing appear within her clothes. With any luck, the Seraph would notice it immediately, and the mission could proceed as planned, as quickly as possible.
 
But until then, Rebecca slunk off into the city.

[center][@Flamelord][/center]

[center]~[/center]

[hider=A Little Extra]
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/Zmaysrl.png[/img]

~ [i]Overwatch[/i] ~[/center]

[colour=BlueViolet]"We don't get to spend much time together, do we Caleb?"[/colour] The Boss commented. Some two blocks away from the graveyard and all its spectacles, She watched from on high, gazing through the viewfinder of a giant device, the bastardisation of a camera and telescope. If The Boss could name one benefit of her organisation, and its numerous resources, it would be the people. The Magical Girls; all the potential and power at her disposal, even if it was scarcely put towards militaristic operations. And of all the Specialisations, outside of her own, there were few more that she coveted than Metal, Reinforcement, and Psychic.

A Metal Specialised girl as her right was perhaps a greater boon than The Boss appreciated. After all of Sasha's training on applying her magic to her own body, it left her capacity for external manipulation limited, but even then, combined with Reinforcement, even she could improve machinery to great capacity. The drones the Surveyor Team employed were as much as testament to that as any. As was the observation piece The Boss now looked through.

[colour=Lime]"I... no, I guess not, Ma'am,"[/colour] Caleb replied simply. It was his way, deliberate but slow in speech, often hesitating when beginning his responses. [colour=Lime]"I don't think we've met since the Janet Howell Trial, even. Not that I'm complaining about the lack of work. I have my niche."[/colour] The Boss eyed him, off to the side of the observation piece. He stood slumped against the rim of the rooftop, opposite to the device, with his hands buried deep into the grey hooded jacket he called a "Transformation". The white and green striped shirt beneath it billowed gently in the afternoon breeze, evidently a size or so too big for him despite being magically engineered. And beneath that same grey hood, he eyed his superior with one opened, golden orange eye.

An Illusion Specialisation would be the last thing any girl looking upon him would think.

The Boss looked him over, judging his slouched form with vague, nigh invisible interest. Then she turned back to the device.
[colour=BlueViolet]"No, I guess we haven't,"[/colour] she sighed, after a few seconds more of gazing. [colour=BlueViolet]"I'm sorry about that, y'know? For an organisation built on keeping people informed and connected, recently I've done a pretty piss poor job of staying in contact with my Journalists. Now Rebecca is off to join Beacon, Charlotte's not making any headway in her suspension, Allison of all people dropped of the grid,"[/colour] The Boss's head dropped, until she was faced with the concrete floor of the roof, and could see Caleb form the corner of her eye, [colour=BlueViolet]"And up here I stand, watching my person's of interest myself."[/colour]

Caleb made no moves to respond. He had been summoned to set up a barrier of obfuscation around the roof the building, so that The Boss could take in the air, and watch the graveyard's aftermath unfold with her own two eyes. What was once vague interest, The Boss looked at him with a sense of curiosity. An odd type of glare, one even she herself did not fully understand. The more she looked at Caleb, the more The Boss ignored the occurrences just a short walk away from her. The Surveyor's would record the whole series of events regardless - her own presence was as close to redundant as could be physically achieved. So The Boss nodded for his opinions of the matter at hand.

The rustle of clothing accompanied Caleb as he pulled himself from the ground. The building they had set up camp was tall, but hardly "big" or "wide" by any means; it only took a few steps to cross the distance, his gait carrying him with uncharacteristic confidence.
[colour=Lime]"Uh, well,"[/colour] he began, placing a hand against The Boss's shoulder. Though her stature was hardly something impressive, the coat that she wore at all times made up for it. A large thing, deep brown in colour, and strewn with scrap material sewn into the fabric to cover up a multitude of damages. A single glance was enough to detail its entire history - The Boss had worn the thing for so long, and through so many battles, that it bore the record of her history for all to witness. [colour=Lime]"You've got more important things to worry about, don't you? Just cause we all joined for help, it doesn't make us infirm and weak, begging for your attention and guidance. We do our jobs and get paid when we do it well. We're not a family like Beacon - in the end, it's not personal."[/colour]

With a shrug, The Boss stepped away, from both him and the telecamera. For all her work, The Penrose Independent was still a small time gig, anyone could see it. Beacon, The Ebon Mint - if they so desired, they would swallow it whole, leaving not even scraps to be devoured by the rabble cults and pantheons. Against the full forces of the largest organisations she could think of, The Boss understood implicitly how weak the Independent truly was. Even The Archive, a group she had never encountered until half a week prior, would no doubt suffocate them under their weight. She cursed it. Not in anger, but nonetheless. Maybe they were right - this was all one big mistake.

In the forever setting sun, her ideal would be laughing.

[colour=BlueViolet]"Not personal. I can think of at least one person who doesn't see things that way."[/colour]

In the course of moving away, The Boss had turned to face a single, arbitrary corner of the building. Caleb scanned, around, confused, but realised what she had meant quickly. His expression in her periphery was confirmation enough. The sound of stone, or concrete, being torn apart, and the scrape of metal against solid objects. Of course, the illusory barrier Caleb had setup was still magical in nature. There was enough chaos going on at the graveyard as to where the main forces, even those with a Third Eye, would pay little attention to the field. But someone else didn't seem to care.
[colour=Lime]"What the hell is The Vixen doing here?"[/colour] Caleb called out, his voice an uncertain mix of fear and genuine curiosity.

The Vixen left no time to answer. In the space of time between The Boss noticing, and Caleb's question, she had scaled the building, and flung herself onto the roof. The night wind scattered Thalia's dress behind her, displaying the tears and burns and blood stains out in the open. Matted and billowing out beside it came her fur and hair, tangled and equally stained, sticky with the blood of a recent kill, past kills, and a long time gone unwashed. Life on the streets dodging between dens to avoid detection had done little for her appearance, The Boss thought. Behind her, The Vixen's tails raised into the air, taking point like the heads of a Hydra. But she made no move to attack.

[colour=BlueViolet]"Can I ask what brings you here this afternoon, Thalia?"[/colour] The Boss queried, taking a tentative step towards The Vixen. There was no fear in her approach. There was nothing - no emotion, no inclination, and nothing hidden. It was neutral - an invitation to conversation, and nothing more. And yet Thalia Alvoy eyed her with hatred. Distrust and disdain. With the eyes of a predator, primed to pounce, and slaughter its prey.

[colour=Gray]"You told Penny where to find me, didn't you?"[/colour] Thalia growled. [colour=Gray]"You [i]broke our agreement![/i]"[/colour]

Measured words followed.
[colour=BlueViolet]"I believe Olympia passed on the message, your 'agreement' stopped working out for me,"[/colour] The Boss took a second step forward, adjusting her hat as she went. [colour=BlueViolet]"As much as I hate lying to Penny, I didn't think it was [i]right[/i] for me to be the one to tell her. She picked up the pieces from the little bits of information I gave up."[/colour]

[colour=Gray]"So you admit it."[/colour] The Boss stopped her approach. Her lifetime had been spent reading people, as printed word on stock, fresh paper. Even a beast like The Vixen was no different - its words were laced with venom, and its eyes betrayed the murder it so desperately desired. As much as she referred to the creature as 'Thalia Alvoy', the truth was that that person no longer existed. The Boss could see that. For a moment, the thought crossed her mind: 'in another world, and another time, is this what I became?' It was an unsightly thing to behold - the soul and countenance of a Monster Girl, consumed by her own demons.

[colour=BlueViolet]"You haven't seen Penny in a few months, have you? Not until Cindy's little meeting,"[/colour] She said. [colour=BlueViolet]"I've been watching her, and [i]Christ[/i] does she have a lot of friends. I mean seriously, Beacon members, Ebon Mint agents, even Serial Killers, apparently. Quite the company she keeps. You can see her right now, if you want, with one of her many friends. I think that one's the Serial Killer, actually. You don't think they're dating or anything, do you? The gossip!"[/colour]

A sudden heat spread across the roof. No fire had yet been launched, but The Boss eyed the tips of Thalia's tails warily. The air shimmered around them, and at the end of each tip, burned a bright, blue pinprick of flame. The smell followed next - the singing of hair and flesh. Her appearance had made it obvious, but The Boss understood now. Thalia was out of control, more so than she had thought at first. She was hardly even in control of her own magic, and ignoring the pain of her own skin burning had become second nature. Not an ounce of pain reflected on the Monster Girl's face. Just hatred. 

The Boss sighed.
[colour=BlueViolet]"If you're going to attack, I suggest you commit to it. I'll survive your flames, but this coat, well... I haven't gotten around to having it reinforced yet. But I'd rather you didn't try and attack me, cause I'd like to get to know Penny a bit better. And I can't do that if I have to drag your bloody corpse to her feet, now can I?"[/colour]

The heat wavered, and Thalia took a step back, uncertain. On a basic level, threats would do nothing to faze her, especially not from an untransformed, little girl like this. But The Boss could see it in her eyes - a modicum of fear. The words The Boss spoke were powerful, intense, and unbridled with emotion despite the monotone, careless way they were delivered. She could merely talk, and people would listen, not out of some kind of obligation, but because there was something tangible behind those words.

[colour=BlueViolet]"Maybe, Thalia,"[/colour] The Boss sighed once more, [colour=BlueViolet]"You could go down there and talk about what you fucking want to. But you can't, can you? Cause you're afraid. After all those people you've killed, you think you deserve to be afraid? Maybe if you weren't an [i]animal[/i], there'd be an issue. Cause that's what you are. A wild fucking beast, with no master, and no inhibitions. You're nothing. So either face the facts, and talk to Penny properly, and just go and kill yourself. I have work to do."[/colour]

Ignoring the murderous, shocked gaze of Thalia, The Boss turned back to the telecamera. She pressed her eyes into the viewfinder, and continued to observe, hoping to spot Rebecca amongst the crowd, off talking with Alicia about Beacon and The Runners. Silently, Thalia left retreated from the scene, and just as silently, Caleb took his seat once again. Silence filled the space, where The Boss had voided the existence of everyone around her, to focus solely on the task at hand. The arrival of The Vixen had given her pause, but now, it had given her an idea.
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