[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/221018/cb9cebc0df27fd266abf83f3ea87bedf.png[/img]
[b][color=B19666]Wordage:[/color][/b] [i]1,191 (2 points)[/i]
[b][color=B19666]Experience:[/color][/b] [i]2/10 EXP[/i]
[b][color=B19666]Location:[/color][/b] [i]Gutsford - Cafe Alps[/i][/center]
Another day, another mound of boring busy work to sift through. It was another crisp, brisk late-fall day, with the breeze from the northern sea just beyond Gutsford's limits rustling all the school town's autumn trees, whether they featured colorful deciduous leaves or evergreen needles, but for the third day in a row Benedict found himself tucked away in a back corner of the warm, aromatic [url=https://imgur.com/a/0qjiuoO]Cafe Alps[/url]. Students could be found here all hours of the day fueling up for classes or studying, especially in the evening, when they swarmed the place to take advantage of the free wifi. At first his assignment away from Midgar seemed like a nice getaway, despite the fact that it concerned potential insurrectionist activity, but it didn't take long for his mood to change. It was peaceful, but it wasn't quiet--quite the opposite, in fact. Everyone seemed to be out and about, constantly talking about this or that, making so much noise that the clamor swelled into a cacophony, and it was the job of Benedict Pascal to sort through it.

He took a break from staring at his laptop's screen to take a sip the last of his tea, remove his spectacles and massage the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't be so daunting a task if not for the G-Men. The grunts of the city government's Public Security Division tended to take their task of surveillance a little too indiscriminately, monitoring the populace so constantly -and not to mention, without subtlety- that every day his inbox flooded with their reports, pictures, and other 'evidence' of sedition and conspiracy, which almost always amounted to nothing of importance. When first introduced to a computer, a seemingly arcane device from a far-flung future beyond anything his medieval perspective could fathom, Benedict could scarcely believe what such an ingenious contraption was capable of. To think that the wealth of mankind's knowledge, and the ability to communicate across any distance, were at his very fingertips! But in the course of this monotonous assignment the tech quickly lost it's magic.

How would he ever find [i]her[/i] like this? The woman with crimson hair, already a person of interest before she and a couple unknown colleagues risked the dangerous journey from Midgar to Gutsford, their passage and purpose kept so secret that they left the Public Security Division scrambling when they caught wind of it. In the end they sent Benedict, along with a posse of G-Men to join those already stationed in Gutsford, but whoever his targets might be were good. They covered their tracks well, and even his overzealous lackeys turned up nothing so far. Just some local punks causing trouble. But if Benedict so much as glossed over a single photo, it could very well be the one he'd been waiting for. 

He parsed over a few reports of minor disturbances in the area, the details of which were thoroughly detailed as per usual and nothing of absolute importance struck out from the full record. Local ruffians riding through a street on their loud and obnoxious motorcycles, causing the [i]usual[/i] complaints and fist-shaking. It was an open-and-shut case, just another public disturbance...

Benedict's fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to simply brush the email off as a dead-end lead when something made him hesitate to delete it outright. Something about the frequency of these reports suddenly gave him pause, yet he hadn't questioned it outright, they [i]were[/i] just public nuisances not Midgar's problem after all.

Benedict closed his laptop with a crisp [i]snap[/i], shaking his head slightly "[color=B19666]No, these are youth.[/color]" he rubbed the center of his temples between his fingers gently "[color=B19666]Not the [i]Ever Crisis[/i].[/color]" Benedict told himself in his hushed monotone of a voice, pushing the thought aside as drawing too many conclusions with only suspicions to back it.

With a sigh, he glanced out the cafe's large glass window that filtered in the light cast between orange leafed trees lining the sidewalk and the shadows cast from other buildings. Students milled about the sidewalk, chatting and going about their day. They were truly oblivious to or too scared to question the strange workers out and about, he didn't envy them for that but he found himself wondering if this work was getting him anywhere.

He was no closer to finding out what happened to his life, no amount of strings he pulled had lead him to any information on the whereabouts of his friends and allies. Truly was it to be that he would never find them? The thought made Benedict's heart fall, and as he looked to the local youth going about their lives he wondered if he had failed the promise he made to Lady Destra those many years ago.

The strategist's forlorn reminiscence came to a sudden end as something buzzed in his pocket, sudden and loud enough to spook someone unfamiliar with it. It had been some time since Benedict first got introduced to a phone too, but it would be a while longer before he got used to that vibration. Though an everyday item around Midgar and Gutsford, it still remained a miraculous device to a medieval man, even more incredible than the laptop for its small size and portability, but he couldn't marvel at it now. While G-Men could pollute his inbox with false positives as much as they wanted, they weren't allowed to call him unless it was a really serious matter.

When answered, Benedict's contact relayed his message in his characteristic monotone. "Hello, my good friend Mr. Pascal. I am calling you because I, though a humble road worker, am your good acquaintance, and simply wish to chat about nothing important in order to pass the time. A large group of unusual people arrived about a half-hour ago from the Metro station, and proceeded through Gutsford. Eager to welcome them to the neighborhood, my other friends and I joined them on their walk, but they went into a pet shop and the door somehow locked behind them. We are concerned for their well-being since they went in the back door, let in by people we do not know. We are currently waiting for them to come out again, since we are road workers and there are no roads in there to work. However, if we were to quit being road workers and became pet owners, we could go inside. Yes?"

A moment of silence passed, Benedict pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat with an [i]ahem[/i] placing a fist over his mouth. "[color=B19666]Indeed, procure whatever you need for your...[/color]" he droned, voice trailing a bit as he did his best to play along with the G-Man on the line  "[color=B19666][i]Disguises[/i], and investigate these individuals.[/color]" his chair groaned on the floor as he slid it back to stand, leaning on his cane with a grunt "[color=B19666]Keep an eye on them until I arrive for questioning.[/color]" placing the laptop in it's carry bag, Benedict slipped it over his shoulder and made for the exit.