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Ｔｈｅ Ａｎｇｅｌｕｓ

[i][sup][colour=silver]Numeratio Regressiva[/colour][/sup][/i]
[hr][sup][colour=silver][u]Morning - The Rookery, New York City[/u][/colour]
[colour=silver][Everyone][/colour][/sup][/centre][hr]
Number Twelve’s eyes were wide as she watched the recordings.

She murmured a prayer under her breath for the fallen, praising their sacrifice. Her murmurs paused as the rest of the briefing continued, and her eyes snapped towards the bishop, her gaze intense yet void of emotion.

... Four stolen artefacts.

Four. Stolen. Artefacts.

They stole four of His gifts.

[i]This could not stand.[/i]

Twelve didn’t react visibly, but the air around her seemed to thin, making it difficult for anyone around her to breathe.

More specifically, it made it difficult for [i]Elise[/i] to breathe, considering she was, [i]unfortunately[/i], the only person who didn’t have the luxury of avoiding the tiny nun like she carried the goddamn plague.

[i]A strangely apt description[/i], her dying brain helpfully supplied. Since when did she start using words like [i]apt[/i]? Since her brain started running out of oxygen, probably. Or she was just being overly dramatic. Both were equally valid options.

[colour=#C1FF5E][i]“Twelve.[/i] Simmer down.”[/colour]

Elise’s voice was a harsh whisper that snapped the fuming number out of her episode.

Number Twelve blinked and tilted her head at her handler.

[colour=gold]“Hm? Miss Müller? Is something wrong?”[/colour]

[i]Everything[/i], Elise wanted to say. She did not.

[colour=#C1FF5E]“Nothing. Just... focus, please.”[/colour]

Eventually, the briefing reached its end and missions were given out to the gathered numbers.

Twelve clasped her hands together, the beatific smile on her face utterly at odds with her next words.

[colour=gold]“Of course! I will make sure to slaughter the heretic and bring you their heart, Your Excellency!”[/colour]

Elise’s facepalm was audible.