Indomitable (IC)

[Katie]

“Are they trying to kill them?”

Lord MacCailin laid down the case files on his desk, with a scowl and a sigh. Policies had, once again, decided that it would be much easier if they were in charge of his Department, from every Enforcer to every mission. Such all encompassing control by a bunch of morons made MacCailin sick to his stomach. If Policies knew how to run his damn Department better than he did, he would let them run wild. And now, they had put him at an impasse based on his selection of candidates. These candidates, these missions. No objections.

“Hardly, sir. They’re only expected to die in one them. The rest are likely to end up in failure, except for this one, although I wouldn’t be surprised if that ends up being botched too.” To her credit, Liselle was the realist. Although, if even he could see how apparently bad it was, there was definitely a problem. “For a test of competency, I have to say this is quite extreme. We’re looking at a hypothetical three failures in one week. They certainly don’t like you, do they, sir?”

“The fact they all have to complete the mission successfully is bullshit, and you know it. At that point, you can’t even call it a fair evaluation.” A fair evaluation, they said. Fair in what sense? That if one team failed, everyone failed? This reeked of spite, as it usually did. MacCailin rubbed at his eyes and drank a bit from his cold cup of coffee. The situation was impossible to weasel out of, unless... “Sakuragi...”

Sakuragi Rin stood at attention. One of two Enforcers that dealt with Policies, she was often busy every night exerting her... own way of influencing the higher ranking members of the Clock Tower. Despite her reputation, MacCailin considered her to be a valuable member, much to Liselle’s distaste.

“No can do, sir. I already tried—this proposal has been sitting on their desks for about a week now and no matter who I... coerce, I can’t change shit.” Sakuragi twirled a lock of hair around her finger, glancing at the case files. She’d already read them from front to back, but it was impressive how Policies had pulled out these from those on the backburner. It was as if... “I can try to oppose, but they won’t budge. Do you want me to try and see if I can make the terms more lenient? Maybe get Liselle to help, if you know what I mean~ They love her, they really do.”

“Go back to the hole you crawled out of and stay there, Sakuragi. Don’t drag me down to your level. Your relations with Lady Bismarck are the talk of gutter trash, and I’d rather not find myself in a lowlife Clock Tower tabloid.” Liselle said, without looking up. She already was pouring over the peculiarities of a certain case file, her fingers tracing over every word. “I would have loved to do this one myself, but... Sir, I think the best we can do is give advice and possibly equipment.”

“Goddamnit. First they give me shit over the Meltdown fiasco, and now this. Can’t they just state this flat out?”

“That’s too much for any mage, sir. Always about the indirect, the subtle, so when you’re hands on, it’s a bit of a wake-up call. Gives you domin—”

“Enough, Sakuragi. At any rate, Lord MacCailin, do you want to proceed as planned? Sakuragi can try dealing with them again, but that’s only a week window.” Invitations were soon to be sent. While they could delay, Policies would immediately catch on and insult them for deliberately stalling, forcing them to make a decision. There was no likely chance of ever “winning.”

“Let Policies do as they want. I tossed all my chips into getting these eight and now they better prove themselves.” That was it, he supposed. To see if his words, his positive impressions of the new candidates, would be proven right. Granted, he would have liked to ease them in, but compassion wasn’t in the job description.

“Are you sure?” The two of them said in unision. Sakuragi stifled a giggle right afterward, while Liselle simply frowned and threw the case file she was browsing back onto the desk.

MacCailin nodded, before glancing at the case files for his new candidates. Trusting them this much was a mistake, no doubt, but he had to believe.

There was a brief moment of silence, until Liselle broke it with the clack of her heels.

“I’ll thumb through the list of candidates you didn’t look at, sir. And the condolence letters. Usually I’d do them after the deed was done, but it appears we simply have no time.”

Sakuragi snickered, before reaching over and grabbing the files off MacCailin’s desk. “I’ll get all the paperwork ready, then. Anything else you need from little old me, sir?”

MacCailin eyed her for a moment.

“Maybe—”

“No,” Liselle said flatly.

“Killjoy,” Sakuragi said, her hips swaying as she left the room.

Liselle groaned, before turning to MacCailin, grabbing a stack of papers lying in a chair. “Instead, why don’t you work on this? You have eighteen other Enforcers that need things to do, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grudgingly took the papers from her hand, noticing the sorted stack of incidents and reports. Baskerville kept popping up, much to his annoyance. Lord Doyle should fetch his own damn dog. He thumbed through the next report, which was... Ah. That was definitely going to be assigned to Ainsworth. The stack never seemed to end, and with a sigh, he realized that dwelling on the status of his new recruits wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He had other things to do than try to wrest control over the uncontrollable.

...Back to work, he supposed.

----------------------------

I. Introductions
Strength is born of adversity.

You glanced at the letter in your hands. Magi were well known for being secretive, but a part of you wanted to say the level of obscurity around the Enforcer dormitory was somewhat excessive. A twenty-four step list of directions accompanied by four seals, three sigils, a blood sample, and two geas was pushing it. Having to stop every once in a while just to flash some symbol of authorization to prevent yourself from being blasted by the bounded field was getting somewhat tedious.

Eventually, you came upon the massive steel gates that blocked the way between you and your new “home.” Elegantly designed, inscribed with runes and an extra bounded field, although you had to question the bald eagle perched on top. Based on what you knew of MacCailin, that certainly wasn’t his familiar, but you wouldn’t know who it belonged to anyway. Probably some Enforcer that had awful taste in familiars. Eagles were not subtle.

It was when you turned your eyes away from the gate that you noticed everyone else was patiently waiting to get inside. Your fellow Enforcers—you’d heard about eight openings, but honestly, the thought didn’t occur to you that they would all be filled. The sheer thought of “competition” for your current position was laughable.

“I expected you all to be late,” you hear from the other side of the gate. You recognized that voice. Liselle Oakley had paid you a visit a few days earlier to give you your detestable set of directions. Back then, you distinctly remembered, she wore a suit. Now she was decked out in a maid uniform, apron and all. It was somewhat jarring, yet at the same time, that deadpan tone she used hadn’t changed in the slightest.

With a flicker of prana and a pulling motion from Liselle, the gates swung wide open, and she beckoned you to follow her. Trailing behind her (she mentioned vehicles would be taken care of), the Enforcer dormitory was in full view. It reminded you more of a spacious hotel or mansion. While it was only two stories, the size of the workshops on each wing were rather accommodating, to say the least. They were definitely used; one section was overrun with vines and greenery, while the other looked like an aviary, an American flag flying proud in the wind. That explained the eagles.

The lobby was rather large when you entered, a nice, mahogany table in the center, with a various array of couches and beanbag chairs surrounding it. Potted plants adorned the corners, and you were given the impression that perhaps you were going to live in a hotel. You honestly expected something much rattier, but perhaps it all was just appearances. They could have easily cleaned up for your arrival.

On the other hand, looking at the occupants of the couches, you weren’t so sure. A pair of girls occupied one, apparently playing video games together, wordless communication between them. The only strange thing was that the younger one was sitting upside-down; her back against the seat cushion and her legs dangling over the leather back pillow. Liselle paid them no mind, and instead directed her attention on the occupants of the other couch.

Liselle glanced at the sleeping girl, her headdress lying on a side table. The man beside her was staring at you, a look of sympathy and pity. He, too, looked tired, but it seemed that pride and curiosity kept him awake nonetheless.

“These are MacCailin’s replacements?” His voice was a bit gruff, like gravel, and you had the distinct feeling of being judged.

“Yes, yes. Would you mind giving them room to sit down? MacCailin is still busy with the mission files.” He obediently scooted over to make room, and Liselle motioned for you to all take seats somewhere in the room. Looked like you would be waiting for a while. “I apologize, but Lord MacCailin is doing his best for your sake…”

She folded her arms, pursing her lips. No doubt trying to figure out a way to kill time. The man was silent, showing no expression.

“Mess hall is that way. It’s staffed by homunculi that work around the clock. Workshops are on each wing and each floor: the basement, this floor, and the second. Pick any empty room you prefer, and please refrain from any experiments involving leylines. We all share the same one, so many of us would prefer it if you didn’t ruin everything.”

She paused, as if she forgot something.

“Ah, and new Enforcers usually do missions in pairs, so introduce yourselves so we don’t need to deal with this later on. Not only that, feel free to ask any questions not related to pay or benefits; that was all in the letter.”

Ah, that was it.

The real time waster.

Introductions.

[Mormarth]

Rebecca Campbell

A deep breath, eyes unfocused, closed, then opened again. A brief gesture with a hand, flashing a sign of identification, she had to admit, with all of these complicated directions and such, it'd be a hassle to get in if she did not have her particular set of skills.

But she did.

And she was invited, anyway, hired, in fact, so it was an idle distraction, nothing to worry much about anyway.

So she pulled herself together and moved briskly forward, examining the grounds as she approached, elegant, well-groomed, neatly manicured, obvious wealth, and along with the security measures, perhaps overly paranoid.

A somewhat typical magus from an older family, in her opinion, if more security-minded than most, which, given the fact that this was the 13th Department's ah, headquarters, was simply a matter of course. You could approach it as simply an overdressed police station cross dormitory, in a way.

Which is what it was, really. It's not like it was going out of the way to obfuscate what it was. It was, at least from cursory and initial thoughts, quite refreshing.

It'd gotten pretty annoying with the constant parades of families with money looming over the 'no-named pauper', even the 3rd Department had not been outside such petty politics.

Meh.

She paused as she came to the gate, more of the same, elegance mired with protective measures, atop the iron gate perched an Eagle, a Bald Eagle, to be precise, Rebecca examined it curiously from a distance, while it reminded her fondly of her homeland, it was a somewhat unorthodox familiar, barring the unlikely fact it had gotten past all of the defensive measures.

Or maybe it was just a pet.

She eyed the Eagle carefully, beak to tail, then dismissed the thought, whoever owned the eagle would likely miss it if it vanished.

She wondered if she was nervous, buried beneath the calm exterior, she was certainly thinking a lot about violence. Needed to get a grip.

Around the gate crowded a septet of other figures, eight Enforcers for eight openings, she wasn't aware it was a particularly sought after job.

Oh well, whatever.

"I expected you all to be late."

A familiar face, appeared from the other side of the fence, it bore the image of one Liselle Oakley, the one who had invited me to join the Department, and, presumably, the others as well.

She opened the gate, utilizing an effort of magecraft, and bade us enter.

So we did.

The dormitory proper came into view, two stories tall, and two large wings spreading off from the main building, presumably workshops by the look of them, one appeared to be some manner of greenhouse, perhaps occupied by a Botanist, and the other looked not dissimilar to a large cage, sweeping high up into the air, as if to contain a number of birds.

A flag waved atop the apex.
A man sobbed on the ground.
The stars and stripes.
He is begging for his life, his pants are soiled, and the floor around him stained with fluids, his once immaculate suit is ruined by his own body.
Stars, fifty of them.
He cries a name, pleading with the face I am wearing, with the woman I have already killed. The two families will be torn apart by the supposed betrayal.
Fifty. Stars.
I bring the bat down, I miss several times, he is slow to die, I feel sick, like my heart is going to burst, I drink heavily that night.
I blinked, hurrying slightly to catch up with the others, bustling through the main doors in a slight hurry.

I was greeted by a large lobby, a well-made handsome table in the center, clearly made from some expensive wood, and contrasted by a number of couches, loveseats and beanbag chairs dotting the room.

It was all certainly rather grand looking, perhaps a former estate?

A small group of what I assumed where our future co-workers were evidently relaxing, some, like two girls who I presumed to be sisters, were entertaining themselves, playing with some manner of gaming device.

I admit, I have been somewhat distanced from the community recently, the last console I'd used having been...

Hm, can't recall.

Another was sleeping, some manner of headdress off to the side, beside her sat an older-looking man, grizzled with age and eyeing us with a judgmental air.

Next to the girl, I feel more than see the presence by her side, a spirit, canine.

Hm.

“These are MacCailin’s replacements?”

Sharp eyes raked over me. Judging, probing.
DO YOU LIKE HURTING OTHER PEOPLE
I shifted my balance slightly, self-conscious.

“Yes, yes. Would you mind giving them room to sit down? MacCailin is still busy with the mission files.”

Liselle evidently had some amount of respectability among the Enforcers, or at least this one, as he obediently shuffled over to make room, she motioned for the group to take seats around the room. Evidently, there was going to be something of a wait.

How annoying.

“I apologize, but Lord MacCailin is doing his best for your sake…”

I let the statement pass in silence. Resigning myself to sitting close to a wall, settling myself down gently, but warily.

“Mess hall is that way. It’s staffed by homunculi that work around the clock. Workshops are on each wing and each floor: the basement, this floor, and the second. Pick any empty room you prefer, and please refrain from any experiments involving leylines. We all share the same one, so many of us would prefer it if you didn’t ruin everything.”

I smiled, my own craft did not require such grandiose experiments. It was a bit more, ah, personal.

There was a brief pause.

“Ah, and new Enforcers usually do missions in pairs, so introduce yourselves so we don’t need to deal with this later on. Not only that, feel free to ask any questions not related to pay or benefits; that was all in the letter.”

I paused for a moment, mulling over my thoughts, then spoke up, "Rebecca Campbell, from the 3rd."

I frowned in thought, "I enjoy work. I enjoy crafting masks, and I like to listen to music."

[Zagrin]

Arjun Vidya

Arjun let out a sharp whistle as he entered the lobby, clearly impressed by the grandeur of the lobby he had just walked into. This was way beyond what he had expected, he had figured the Clock Tower would be generous enough to provide accommodation that was a step above him having to practically live in his office. Perhaps to the rest of his colleagues this place wasn't too big of a deal, but to him it was the equivalent of a five star hotel!

Speaking of his colleagues...most of them were ladies, and pretty good looking ones at that too! Sure, there were a couple guys in the mixed but this was a clear 90-10 split! Did he just win the jackpot known as life!? Actual housing, women and all the funds he needed to finance his archaeological digs and in exchange all he had to do in return was capture some magi designated for sealing. Life seemed to be just getting better and better!

Seriously how could his father have told him not to join up with the Enforcers, honestly he would have contacted them himself if he knew of all these benefits.

Now then it was time for some introductions and the first up was the lovely redhead. Sadly she didn't seem much of a talker, didn't even bother to give her three sizes. C'mon now we were all supposed to be friends here right. Well at least she bothered to mention her department, 3rd. That was...the necromancy department, if he remembered correctly? He inwardly sighed at that fact, it wasn't any secret that people from that department tended to be a tad...strange, to say the least.

Now then it looked like it was his turn.

"Name's Arjun Vidya. I'm just your everyday Professor of Archealogy, Expert on the Occult and how does one say it...Obtainer of Rare Antiquities. I'm looking forward to working with most of you."

[Leftovers]

It was strange to experience even at that moment, passing through the gates wrought of steel and magic into the wide yard that the dormitory loomed over. Every footfall seemed to land on air, or a fluffy cloud, or a myriad of other metaphors that connoted all the dream-like textures of unreality and none of the stolid validation of unyielding earth. If she let her mind wander for a moment, everything would easily seem like props from a well-rehearsed and oft-performed play.

The broad facade of a mansion that still bore on its gardens and gables the traces of Victorian aesthetics now almost smothered by modernity, the bird of prey monitoring access and egress with steady gaze like a heraldic beast guarding its ancestral grounds, the maid with flaxen hair and steely eyes that beckons the cast into the opening act. Backdrop, centerpiece, action. Life in a doll's house, puppets on strings.

Such was life in the shadow of the Clock Tower, premier arbiter, administrator, and adjudicator of what resides beyond the purview of the ordinary; or rather, the inverted world beyond the mirror, where what is extraordinary on one side becomes normality on the other.

In a way, it really was a play, one where all the actors in silent accord pretended to not notice the whir of anchored wires, the swiveling fingers of the puppeteers, and the titters of the nonpareil crowd for whose amusement the play was staged. It was not something to be openly acknowledged, not out of fear for punitive repercussions, but because it was something every single person in the Association was naturally aware of. Thus, to act as if it were a secret to be uncovered would only show one's inherent unsuitability as a magus. But still, sometimes it was eye-opening to take a step back and just take in the full workings of this ancient monolith of a system.

Masks upon masks, lies to cover half-truths, vying for a spot in the sun but fearful of the predators that might detect them in the light; to enter that system meant to assume a role in the grand masquerade. "Another bright pursuer of the ever-elusive Golden Apple," they might say, but most magi in the Association had long abandoned such idealistic notions. Those that realised it first and recognised the potency of that dangling lure became the elite families that persevered through many centuries, steadily crafting the system that would sustain their prestigious existence.

The pursuit of Akasha, of magical excellence, of happiness, or whatever else-defined success it was that thaumaturgists toiled and laboured towards, all that rarely accounted to anything in the grand scheme of things — much less bloom into something that would transcend the scope that the system has allotted. From the moment one entered the circles of the greatest magical institution of the modern era, they were subject to the boundaries that their role was confined to. And overstepping those boundaries, like an actor transcending their role, inevitably attracted the guardians of that balance.

It was better to not pretend. Within a system of titles and privileges and the fearsome autocratic rule of absolute might, where academia bred concord and advancement as often as bile and regressive spite and the pioneers of magecraft were sealed long before they find the winding path to the Root of All Things, there was no such thing as a small mercy. Marionettes that have outlived their charm are tossed aside, and useless things are excised for the total to flourish. And as it was, her final role in this indefinable play was coming up.

Step after step on the tufted floor. This was reality.

Being a dog isn't so bad.

This was her future.

There are some jobs that only dogs can do.

This surely was the only path left for her to take.

After all, this was actually an upgrade from her previous social standing. As if she wasn't already aware of that, last week's interview with Liselle Oakley, lip wrinkled with barely contained disgust, had evidenced as much. Not that it mattered. If only as a theoretical fact and not a reflection of her actual life, it had stopped mattering long ago. This, as with all things in her life thus far, was her inexorable, inviolable duty.

With a nod of recognition and an inch-perfect curtsey, she took her cue in a gentle tone.

"Well met, sirs and madams. Ceridwen Llewellyn of the Second Department is at your service."

[Mooncake]

Lillian Thornberry


The people around her were a varied bunch, in appearance if not in gender. She had heard the rumours, but if MacCaillin, the man Liselle had mentioned at their interview was really such a womanizer, well, she could do what she liked. The best thing about her skills was that they were so easy to use at just a touch.

Enough of all that! Lillian shook her head, her lovingly-kept hair moving freely around her. She was going to enjoy the money that came with her new job, that was for sure. Even the manners of her... new fellows couldn't deter her...

Lillian, for all her strengths, had a flaw. She knew about it, naturally, but it nagged at her, slept inside of her, inexhaustible and unbeatable. She couldn't fault it even if she didn't know where it came from, but her attraction, to well, older men hadn't left. And there, there was a perfect candidate, an Indian professor, white-haired and –

She coughed.

"Guid mornin, awbody! Ma name is Lillian Thornberry, frae the depairtment o' curses. Nice tae meet ya!"

The sparkling eyes, well-cleaned hair, small, cute figure - even Liselle hadn't quite believed it, and the deadpan woman in the maid outfit had read her file back to front. The same girl that laughed like a child, drove her motorbike around London with ease and joy, was the very same Bone Ripper that the Clock Tower had hired not even two months before.

From what she could see, the place wasn't so bad. Better than the fragile apartment she had been living in, anyways.

[Ace]

Ayumi Sakagami

Everything felt as if it'd been stolen wholesale from some heart pounding spy novel. Albeit, one with magic. She supposed that made it more like a manga than a James Bond book. Either way, it was awesome. When Ayumi first enrolled, she had hoped every day would be an exciting adventure, ancient mysteries waiting to be discovered around every corner, battles to the death won through raw power or clever tricks. For once reality was living up to her fantasies.

The sudden change in Liselle's wardrobe, going from the posh suit Ayumi had met her in, to a maid's uniform, was hilarious enough to let the remark about her and her new colleagues' expected punctuality slide. It reminded her of those maid cafes back home. If she asked, would Liselle make her a omelet with a cute cartoon drawn on it in hot sauce? The thought brought a wide grin to Ayumi's face.

Together with the other new enforcers, they ventured inside what would be their home until they left the Department for one reason or another.

Her jaw nearly dropped.

Only a - a billionaire could afford a swanky place like this, and they were letting her live here? Oh, if her parents could see this place they'd kill themselves with jealousy. Maybe she could send them some photos over the internet.

“Ah, and new Enforcers usually do missions in pairs, so introduce yourselves so we don’t need to deal with this later on. Not only that, feel free to ask any questions not related to pay or benefits; that was all in the letter.”

Woo, the perfect time to ask. She waited for a few others to speak up and introduce themselves first, to get a feel for how much she should divulge. Ayumi didn't have much in the way of secrets but she didn't want them to know that. There already was a high chance they'd see her as a hillbilly from the backwater of a backwater nation.

Given how little they said about themselves, besides Rebecca who included some of her likes, this group wasn't too big on long-winded introductions. Well, that was fine. She hadn't been a big fan either in high school, standing in front of the class on the first day trying to think up a good hobby to share.

"I'm Ayumi, from the First Department." She scratched her cheek, nervously. Those two girls had a game console so maybe they weren't too technologically inept. "Um, as for questions, is there internet here?"

[Plue]

Seraphinia


Unblinking ruby eyes track this way and that, following something other than her new {Colleagues/Annoyances?} as they are lead to their new {Home/Residence}? Stumbling as she trips over her own feet, her attempted contemplation of this new environment are temporarily derailed as she keeps herself from falling.

Pleasant

Third order aggressive waveform assembly.

Automatically cataloging the intertwining weaves of prana that formed the bounded fields. Mentally mapping the ripples of the groups passage in the wards. Her mind already occupied by thoughts, she stumbles again even as she tries to keep her focus, tearing her thoughts away from the agreeable resonances of the magecraft worked here.

Locking her eyes on the somewhat familiar figure, {Different appearance?} that opened the gate, the young homunculus attempts to stay focused as she follows. {Change in outerwear, wavelengths conform to previous normal. Error in matching?} Despite being something that should have no bearing on her, the subject is something she is able to allow herself to contemplate and walk.

Maintaining better stability as the constructs mind remains fully focused on one subject she only mixes up her feet once more on the way into the large building. {Possible code?} Reason for change in appearance uncertain.

Even after the group comes to a stop, {large room/gathering area?/recreational?} and herself too with another stumble as she catalogs those present with little more than a glance for now. Several threads of thought spin off at their appearance; likely for the best she is not trying to walk at the moment. {Colleagues/Annoyances?} Previously suspended contemplation of the seven others new members reemerge. {Possibility of compatible coexistence?/Destructive interference?/Positive resonance?} Unknown.

“Ah, and new Enforcers usually do missions in pairs, so introduce yourselves so we don’t need to deal with this later on. Not only that, feel free to ask any questions not related to pay or benefits; that was all in the letter.”

The one self identified as Liselle Oakley was {sympathetic/understands} to the desires of knowledge enough to understand a need for more information. Very {pleasant/acceptable}.

"Change in appearance? Query; functionality?"

While waiting for the reply to her query Liselle's words are run through her mind once more, {lacking/failure to fully understand} such a thought thread occured.

Ah, no. mutual exchange of {information of self} was also {required/requested}.

"Name: Seraphinia."A further long pause as she seems to be considering something. Ah, yes. "Positive greeting of new coworkers with pleasant aspirations." Rather verbose, however such a thing was required according to {information source}.

No, that wasn't it either. {Reference not found/acceptable}. Well within the margin for error she decided. No need for further corrections.

[I3uster]

Michael Turner

If nothing else at least I won't get bored.

There was a really casual air about the proceedings here that I didn't expect. Can't say that I really miss the pomp and circumstance to be honest. People in this organization often try their hardest to not call you worthless trash while on the other hand eliminating any doubt that they could possibly see you as anything else. At least here you get it up front. Right into the grinder.

Not that I plan on having something unfortunate happen to me.

I held my best friend here on the short leash, wrapping parts of the green leather strap around my hand. Don't want any of these freaks to make sudden moves towards my poor boy here. With the other hand I grabbed something out of my suit pocket.

"Hey guys, my name's uh..." I held the letter right in front of my face. Not that it was of any use, but it's usually pretty fun to see how long it took them to get that.

"Michael...Turner..." I awkwardly pause, bobbing my head forth as if the script was hard to decipher. Maybe someone here had a sense of humor? Too bad if not.

"I look forward to working with uh...with you guys."

[Satehi]

Annabelle Lockhart

From lecturer to enforcer.

It was certainly a downgrade, in many senses. Status, respect, influence were the obvious ones, from what she’d heard and remembered. But it was hardly realistic to expect to hold any claim to those after her hibernation.

The residence, at least, was welcome. Its aesthetics were a sight in this unknown age, a design that had weathered the trial of the century and come out little worse for wear, for the most part. The knobbed contraption that the two ladies on the lounge played with remained a bit of a mystery to Annabelle, but it was comforting to know that her preference of architecture had not become too departed from Clock tower standard.

She had no love for the prospect of becoming a hunting dog, but it’d serve nicely as a means of getting used to the 21^st century. Until an opportunity arose in her native department, at any rate.

“Ah, and new Enforcers usually do missions in pairs, so introduce yourselves so we don’t need to deal with this later on. Not only that, feel free to ask any questions not related to pay or benefits; that was all in the letter.”

Right, right, introductions. A natural start to any partnership. Waiting politely for her turn to come, Annabelle gave a short bow.

“Annabelle Lockhart, from Anthropology. A pleasure to be working with you all, ladies and gentlemen, for however brief that may be.”

[Katie]

“Um, as for questions, is there internet here?”

“Yeah,” the youngest girl piped up, a faint Japanese accent in her words. “I don’t remember the password, though, it’s really long—”

“70E466F255CA4CF3E87AB3E3D,” the older one muttered, her enunciation clear. “All caps. Holdover from the long WEP key from the old router.”

“Mmm, MacCailin is a bit paranoid. I’ll write it down for you later,” the younger one paused, seeing an expectant glare from Liselle over the screen of her console. “Oh. I’m Matsumiya Kanade and right next to me is my onee-chan, Hibiki. We’re only a bit older than you in seniority, as Enforcer number twenty-two.”

“Yup,” Hibiki muttered, her attention locked on the game.

“She’s not that talkative—I’m the brains and she’s the muscle.” Kanade gave a fiendish grin as she said this, and Hibiki punched her in the shoulder, making Kanade teeter to the side like a ship about to capsize.

“Just don’t like talking.” You could see Kanade rub her shoulder with a wince, but she laughed it off.

“A pleasure to be working with you all, ladies and gentlemen, for however brief that may be.”

“Brief isn’t the word I’d use, miss. Not that it’s anything on our part, but Policies has gotten worse since your heyday; or that’s what my grandfather told me. Old coot can’t seem to resist sticking his nose into crap he can’t get out of. But, don’t get your hopes up.” He tugged at his gloves, as if inspecting them for some sort of defect. “I’m James Morrison, and the girl right there is… Well, she can introduce herself when she wakes up.”

The sleeping girl next to her didn’t seem like she was going to wake up anytime soon, but part of you wondered why Liselle wasn’t waking her up. She struck you as rather professional, willing to correct any bad impressions, but then again, she didn’t seem to care, considering the lax state of the others. Instead, she was impatiently tapping her foot, and her calm facade finally broke, a grimace on her face.

“I’ll drag MacCailin here so these eight can get to doing something. James, watch over them.”

She vanished into a hallway, leaving you all alone.

“She’ll be yelling in a few. This always happens. Swear she’s descended from a banshee.” Morrison simply shrugged in his seat, before adopting a more serious expression.

“Here,” he pointed to Ceridwen, Turner, Thornberry, and Lockhart in turn. “It doesn’t matter if you’re disgraced, disabled, a killer, an academic. Treat others the way you ought to be treated, if the damn cliche works for you. This building is only full of equals, and those three girls are your equals—your betters, because they’re more experienced. The last few Enforcers made that mistake and got their cocky asses killed. Pride isn’t something you have in this job, it gets you six feet under.”

He got up with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Cover your ears.”

“Sakuragi, get off the damn desk! MacCailin, they’ve been waiting for you for at least five minutes! Get out!” The rest of the screeching was drowned out by several loud crashing sounds, which faded into an abrupt silence. The sleeping girl woke up with a start, practically jumping out of the couch.

“Liselle, I’m—” A startled plea.

“She isn’t here. She’s yelling at MacCailin.” Morrison said, giving her a pat on the back.

“Oh, okay, that’s—Who’re they?” she paused, eying you all with a quizzical look, her eyes scanning you back and forth. Her face flushed red, and she bit her lip. “Wait a min—you didn’t wake me up when the new people came? God, whatever. That’s embarrassing.”

Grabbing the headdress and placing it on her head, she grinned, before giving a friendly wave. “I'm Coyote, at your service.”

She glanced at Turner’s dog, making a puzzled face which turned into a faint frown.

“Nice dog,” she said sarcastically, before sitting back down in her chair.

Liselle came back in holding several manilla folders, with a pair following her like dejected dogs. One was busy adjusting the collar of her shirt, a sheepish grin on her face, while the other looked thoroughly exhausted and beaten. Nevertheless, he managed to stand straight when Liselle pushed him, and coughed.

“Ahem. I am your employer, Lord Christopher MacCailin, head of the Department of Execution. It’s a pleasure to meet you all, and I would normally tell you to get settled… but now is not the time or place.” Much younger than you thought. He took the manilla folders from Liselle and placed them on the wooden table between the couches, a grim look on his face. “As Policies does not trust me, they have seen it fit they test you with these.”

“My bad,” the other woman said, apparently making an important decision about whether or not a button should or should not be unbuttoned. “I’m Rin Sakuragi, liaison with Policies. While they like me, MacCailin’s kinda…”

“Let them read, Sakuragi,” MacCailin said, probably to save damaged pride.

You all took your time reading, pouring over the fairly simple case files. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, in fact, so why was MacCailin apparently so worried? There was certainly nothing strange about them, except…

“Does Policies think we’re their fucking lapdogs? We retrieve, not clean. And I can’t believe you rolled over and let them do this to these folks,” Morrison said, a tempered fierceness behind every word. “Your father would disapprove of what Policies is doing, MacCailin, and while I understand your precarious position, I cannot believe—”

“As you say, pride gets you killed in this job, James. The same applies to Policies, and because MacCailin was unable to perform with the dogs they gave him, we must yield in order to get what we want. I do not like it myself… but it is what we must do.” Liselle interjected, her voice fiercely calm as well as sounding a bit hoarse, you realized.

“My father doesn’t run this business anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t think I do either. Anyhow, there’s another stipulation. No senior Enforcers. You eight form pairs for these four missions. Policies wants to test you, and you alone.”

“Sounds like they’re trying to kill them,” Coyote muttered, a regretful look in her eyes.

“It’s damn obvious they are.” Morrison slammed a fist on the table, before giving you all a pitied look. As if you already failed.

“Well, not like they want to kill them,” Kanade said, looking over the files. “More like fail. Right, nee-chan?”

“Yeah. Some of these… are really dicey for the newcomers.” The two tossed the files back onto the table, and everyone looked expectantly at MacCailin, as if he could provide every answer in the world.

“As I said, choose partners. You all will move out tomorrow morning. You have the evening to move in and get acquainted with the rest. Sakuragi, you’re free. Liselle, come with me. We have way too much to do.”

Sakuragi sat down next to the sisters, leaning back in her section of the couch as MacCailin and Liselle left. She yawned, and then looked back down at the files.

“MacCailin didn’t tell you guys that his job depends on it. If any of you fail, he’s out, you’re out. So…”

A moment of silence. Nobody spoke up, but you could clearly see the worry in the other’s eyes, their faces paling. Morrison got up and left, boots heavy against the wooden floor, but the others stayed, transfixed, still staring at the rather half-assed case files.

“Think hard about who wants to go where, alright?”

---

Case #1
Case #2
Case #3
Case #4

[Plue]

Seraphinia

Feet both solidly on the ground the artificial magus is in no danger of tripping this time as she waits patiently for her answer. A change that had no {wafeform variation}. Something like this could not be {ignored/neglected} by something like {herself/waveform analysis engine}. There must be something she can't {observe} in the outfit, something even her eyes cannot detect. So {interesting}.

Several other {coworkers/noise sources} speak. {Unimportant/subject unrelated} Nothing worth {note}.

“I’ll drag MacCailin here so these eight can get to doing something. James, watch over them.”

Waiting for reply on query.

Liselle leaves the room. The homunculus blinks at the sudden departure, but continues to wait patiently for her reply. Ideas are built up and discarded for lack of more information. Her passive observations had not been able to gather enough information. {Active gathering} rejected. Query will suffice.

“Sakuragi, get off the damn desk! MacCailin, they’ve been waiting for you for at least five minutes! Get out!”

Ignore. {Unconcerned}. Unrelated to current {query}.

As Liselle leaves the room again Seraphinia's face falls. {Dejection/lacking resolution}. Reaching conclusion of {annoyance} of question? Her mind spins wildly as she tries to come to grips with why her {query} was denied. Liselle had even acknowledged the intent for {queries}.

Had she asked something so {bothersome/annoying} that she had been ignored? Was it possible she had become the {annoyances/scum} she had sought to escape by joining this {group}?

Speech

Ignore. {Unconcerned}. Unrelated to current {query}.

Error, rejecting this {conclusion}. Single attempt at information {query} should not have escalated by such a degree. {Solutions/Alternatives}

It's a good thing that her involuntary functions continue without her direct thought as she tasks her mind to the problem completely. Hardly moving a hair beyond her breath as she stares unseeingly ahead, deep within her own thoughts. Time doesn't much matter to her as she ignores everything.

{Conclusion?} High possibility of resolution.

Speech

Ignore. {Unconcerned}. Unrelated to current {query}.

Appearance change is obviously related to magecraft secret of highest order? Inappropriate to continue {query} Dejection. Acknowledge kindness of Liselle for not calling her out on her {rude/dangerous} {query}. Classifying outfit type as {forbidden knowledge/regret}. Putting the image of the outfit away properly {labeled} now; she would be certain {much regret} to avoid further dangerous questions. She can't quite let go of it though. {Hidden investigation?} Possible consideration, there would be a need for {resources} to conduct such. {Delay} until further time.

With a slight nod to herself she blinks taking in the room again. Did she miss something? {Unimportant words} No, certainty nothing was said that would have caught her attention. Her current dilemma shelved for the moment her minds wheels spin idly as she lets her crimson eyes drift around the room {Searching}.

New {query} why are {colleagues} reading from folders? A look of bewilderment spreads across the young magus's face as she blinks several times.

What? {what?} Unknown. {Uncertain}

Too rapid a change for her she takes more than a few moments to recover her thoughts momentum.

[Mormarth]

Rebecca Campbell

I looked around the room at my new co-workers in turn, the Indian archaeologist with the wandering eye, and, ah, was that Welsh? The Welsh(?) girl with a refined way of speaking, from the second, maybe nobility? The heavily-accented girl, department of curses, cheerful. The Japanese, Ayumi, from the first, interestingly asking about internet. Must be more modern than most.

And, judging by the ruby-red eyes and pale hair, what was clearly a homunculus. Talked kinda like a robot, but seemed easy enough to understand, if ah, lacking in social graces.

She tried, I guess.

And Turner, didn't mention the department, had a dog, and judging by his glasses and the way he waved the invitation in front of his face comically, was blind.

I let out a small puff of amusement.

And the last, Lockhart, Anthropology. Nothing more on that.

There was an affirmative on the query about internet, and a rattling off of the security key, I committed it to memory as it was recited, repeating it gravely to myself.

It paid to remember small details.

The two Japanese playing their game on the couch were Kanade, the younger, and Hibiki, the older, brains and brawn respectively.

The older gentleman with the sharp gaze was James Morrison, judging by his speech, Lockhart had a history in Policies.

Liselle went off, losing patience with the still-absent Lord, and Morrison was left as supervisor, must have a good deal of seniority and trust.

I paid close attention to his pointing to some of my fellows, confirming some inferences and adding other bits of information.

Cerdwen was 'disgraced', must be a noble with a diminished lineage. Turner was indeed blind, Lockhart was an academic and a bit of a snoot.

And Thornberry was a killer.

I suppose we all have faces we like to wear.

He continued rattling off a speech about pride and respecting others, affirming the others in the room as our betters due to experience.

Yes, yes, we're greenhorns, cowboy, let's move on.

I twitched at the loud noise erupting from wherever Liselle had gone, judging from the wording, our commander was occupied with a woman.

Joy.

The noise awoke the resting girl with the canine spirit, introducing herself as Coyote and making a derisive statement about Turner's dog.

I glanced at it for a moment, evaluatingly. Then turned to await the Lord's arrival.

He arrived, as I expected, with a woman adjusting her shirt, looking appropriately chastened, Liselle stalking along in front, holding several folders.

The shame-faced Lord was shoved upright, and cleared his throat, introducing himself as Lord Christopher MacCailin, and head of our new department, "It’s a pleasure to meet you all, and I would normally tell you to get settled… but now is not the time or place.”

The folders were taken from willing hands and placed on the table at the center of the rough circle.

“As Policies does not trust me, they have seen it fit they test you with these.”

I silently retrieved one, flicking through it, eyes fixing on one line, 'Qualified for Designation: N'.

I frowned, then scanned through the rest, then frowned more deeply.

Was not the byline for the Enforcers, the Department of Execution: "To safeguard and retrieve the works of the condemned"?

And yet, for this one, we appear to be doing neither, as I examined the rest, only "Distortion" was being considered for a designation.

It would seem that instead of being Enforcers, we are merely cleaners. Getting rid of the trash.

It is unhappily familiar.

Morrison is angry, he disapproves of the clearly outlined objective, and, of course, I have my own concerns, not the least of which is an accurate grasp on their abilities and what they are capable of.

“As you say, pride gets you killed in this job, James. The same applies to Policies, and because MacCailin was unable to perform with the dogs they gave him, we must yield in order to get what we want. I do not like it myself… but it is what we must do.”

Liselle is displeased with this as well, but more resigned. Having clearly heard this news earlier.

“My father doesn’t run this business anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t think I do either. Anyhow, there’s another stipulation. No senior Enforcers. You eight form pairs for these four missions. Policies wants to test you, and you alone.”

This, along with the earlier discussion of seniority, prompted an outpouring of pity and sympathy. Morrison in particularly looking at us somberly, as if we had already failed.

My hand tightened on the couch, letting out a low noise from the leather. But I remained silent.

“As I said, choose partners. You all will move out tomorrow morning. You have the evening to move in and get acquainted with the rest. Sakuragi, you’re free. Liselle, come with me. We have way too much to do.”

The woman who arrived with MacCailin, Sakuragi sat on the sisters' couch, yawning, “MacCailin didn’t tell you guys that his job depends on it. If any of you fail, he’s out, you’re out. So…”

The other senior Enforcers reacted with worry and shock, Morrison got up and left.

I flicked through the remainder of the rather scant case files and settled back, having made my decision.

I spotted the Homunculus come out of some deep focus she was in after asking about Liselle's current choice of clothing, she looked pretty confused, hadn't even gotten off the couch.

I'd always had a soft spot for them and their like, and I spotted her trip over her own feet a few times and that was just adorable, I'm just saying.

I sidled over to where she sat and offered a folder, "Hey, Seraphinia, right? We're being assigned our missions, the rest of the files are up at the table."

I settled down on the arm of the couch, relaxed and calm, I thought of the folder I'd decided upon nodding, "Smoke" would probably be the best suited, my magecraft would not play well with mystic code attachments and mental interference made me wary.

"You never mentioned your department, by the way," I pointed out.

I spotted Thornberry peering at "Smoke" closely as well, and waved her over.

[Mooncake]

Lillian Thornberry


The people she was assembled here with were a lively bunch, to be sure! She - oh. Oh. Morrison was going to be fun to work with, that was for sure. The Scotswoman hung on his every word, nodding eagerly even though, naturally, she didn't really care about what he was saying.

The only thing that interrupted her from her sudden daydream was all the yelling that was coming from MacCailin's office. Poor man, he should hold his little secret affairs away from his, uh, maid. She like Liselle, though. Maybe after they got to know each other a little better, they could get together sometime? That sounded good enough to her.

The tone took a more serious turn as the senior Enforcers brought up the lovely prospect of the interference of Policies. At least that much hadn't changed since she had been gone, but she remembered the hatred for the Enforcers that she had seen when she was still a student. Examining the case files they handed out, Lillian's face took a smoother turn as she studied the reports.

The only options she really liked were 'Perdition' and 'Smoke'. 'Distortion' needed to be brought in alive, and subtly, which was difficult for her, and her magic didn't seem like it would work against someone who was mostly a robot. As the cute girl pursed her lips in thought, she noticed the American woman, her new comrade, waving her over – and so off she went.

"Hallo, Rebecca Campbell! Ya haurd ma name too, a'm shuir. Whit aboot you, lassie, Seraphina?" She addressed the homunculus with a cheery smile, before continuing on with her probing for Rebecca's interests.

"What dae you think aboot him? A'm no that faur ben wi 'Smeuk', but leukin at him, A think A'm up tae it."

[Ace]

Ayumi Sakagami

The Department was a lot more lax than Ayumi had expected, more so than the one she hailed from. There, they at least tried to keep the entanglements somewhat secret. The blatant fetish maid outfit and whatever act had delayed Ayumi's new boss from meeting them on time. Well, there was Wi-Fi here. That put it a notch above the rest of the Clocktower and their stubborn refusal of any technology made after the 80's.

Also, most didn't give off the air of feeling superior just because of the country she was born in. A definite improvement compared to the treatment she received from students and teachers alike.

Their boss and the senior enforcers got into a spat over the supposed death sentence the missions Policies had handed them. She'd be lying if she said the certainty everyone had that she and the recruits were going to fail and die wasn't worrying to hear. But she never let momentary concerns get in the way of what she wanted before. She didn't make it all the way here, the one and only Clocktower, from her humble beginning as a daughter of soybean farmers to have it end because of pettiness.

Ayumi flipped through the files, frowning. Not a lot of options for someone with no talent in almost every area of magecraft.

It made choosing a hell of a lot easier though.

"If no one minds, I think I'll sign up for Cybernetics," she announced. As much as a perfectionist the target was, no standard magic could stop erosion forever. "Good compatibility, and all that."

[Zagrin]

Arjun Vidya

Leaning towards the table, Arjun picked up one of the reports and began skimming through it before replacing it with the next one however his thoughts were on those whom had just recently arrived in the hall.

So this was the man who he'd be working for: Christopher MacCailin, disgraced lord of the Clock Tower who clearly didn't get that there was a time and place for everything, that is if Arjun read the every so (un)subtle hints correctly. Now Arjun didn't have a grasp on Tower politics, but his situation didn't sound too surprising if him being unable to keep it in his pants was a common occurrence. Not that he could fault him for it if it was true though, he himself had been caught in a number of such situations as well, one could even say they were kindred spirits in that regard and besides...

Glancing up from the report, his eyes fell on the women who had come in with MacCailin.

Rin Sakuragi, eh? It looks like he'd need to to pay the Policies department a visit later, in fact why should he even wait that long? As the gentleman that he was, it was his job, nay, his duty to see if he could help her finish what had been ever so rudely interrupted back in that office! Unfortunately there was still the matter of which bounty he'd pick and well...none of them were too much to his liking.

For one they were all men. Seriously MacCailan, did you keep all the good cases to yourself?

Then what they actually were, which could easy be summed up in a few words: a religious fanatic, a druggie, a teleporter and magus who wanted to make everyone into machines. All of them sounded like nutjobs, but that last one...well he wasn't sure what it was, but something about him bothered Arjun. Perhaps it was his use of innocence, perhaps it was that killing him was favorable and that's what Arjun's magic was best for or perhaps it was simply how he they were opposites. Indeed, while he looked to the past for knowledge and power this man's sole focus was that of the future and the machinery he could create.

Yeah, this would be his first target as a dog of the Clock Tower.

"If no one minds, I think I'll sign up for Cybernetics. Good compatibility, and all that."

And a cute girl signs up for the job that he's got his eyes! Lucky! Now there was no way that he wasn't picking this job!

"I'm interested in that one as well, though I suppose it's not due to something as important as compatibility. So if you wouldn't mind me accompanying you, I'd also like to sign up for it."

[Satehi]

Annabelle Lockhart

How surprisingly… blunt? She supposed that would be the best descriptor for their behavior. It was certainly a great departure from the etiquette she was used to- much more close, informal, friendly? Camaraderie formed in the face of the dangers of their job, as Morrison had alluded to? Or perhaps from their common status, in the face of the rest of the Association, a union from a common enemy? Their mentions of meddling by Policies felt like such.

Regardless, while they were less cordial than she would have liked, it was preferable to hostility. There would be no problems getting along and working with these people, though that Morrison fellow had a rather coarse tongue.

It seemed greater issue would come from the unorthodox conditions imposed by Policies, a fact that she had little recollection of from back in her day. A fresh recruit for a partner was troubling, but she could only trust that her new bosses’ judgement in choosing his candidates had selected individuals for which it would not be a problem. Being fired so early would look bad on resumes, after all. The homunculus and the individual with... vision? reading? issues seemed like they might be difficult to work with, but the rest seemed agreeable enough.

Reaching over and glancing through the files, she resisted the urge to ask about “Cybernetics”- whatever it was, it seemed to be common enough knowledge amongst the modern era, though it was quite incomprehensible on her part. Machines? What possible benefit could there be in grafting those slow, clunky industrial devices onto the optimized, harmonized human form? It felt ridiculous to her. That left “Perdition”, “Smoke” and “Distortion”, of which the choice was obvious.

“This “Perdition” fellow seems like my mark. I don’t mean to boast by any means, but I probably have to most experience with mental interference amongst us, so if no one has any objections..?”

[Leftovers]

Ceridwen Llewellyn

Wide blue eyes flitted from side to side like the pendulum of a metronome, scanning the documents at a rhythm dictated by the trail of slender fingers on paper; sometimes thumbing through the corners of the pages with a rustle, tracing the underside of a line in a large paragraph, or absently examining the rough texture of the folder's kraft paper jacket. Snips of conversation floated about in the periphery of her hearing, and she took it in without lifting her gaze from the files in her hands.

It was easy to think of it as study material, for a test that would decide her future not just as an Enforcer, but as a magus. Naturally it would be far removed from the trials of academia she was accustomed with, but for better or for worse, Ceridwen's entire life had been constructed around such moments. It was strange, but she was no stranger to it.

She was used to studying, so that was what she did.

If there was one extraneous thought she had while poring through the case files of the condemned, it was of the rugged man's — Morrison's declaration.

"Feh, beth jôc."

Muttering under her breath, Ceridwen turned another page.

It was within human nature to think that way. The only company that misery can bear is that of the equally wretched, licking each other's wounds while despising the abstraction of injustice. But even so, that behaviour was only a coping mechanism, designed to mend and construct the ego anew; feeding on the commiseration of others, putting oneself on a higher standing that those with even greater misfortunes. Success was always built on the bodies of the feeble and the vanquished, and so one adjusted to the new conditions, fashioning himself one-eyed king among the blind.

People always want to be above other people. That is the way they know how to live.

And more than that, even a pack of dogs has its hierarchy.

Though for others the Fourteenth Department was a haven - a means to a lifestyle of relative carefreeness, of constant thrill, or of sanctioned killing - Ceridwen had no intention to meander as an Enforcer, counting down the days to her inevitable 'work-related accident'. This was just a stepping stone, and she would not let anything, not even her own self, keep her from moving forward - and up.

Closing the folder and placing it on the coffee table with a soft thump, she linked her hands on her lap and regarded the room, already dividing into small teams.

"Though all of the targets seem manageable, I must confess to holding an inherent advantage against this 'Perdition'," she said, and inclined her head to the fair-haired Annabelle Lockhart in deference.

"Then, if you'll have me."

[I3uster]

Michael Turner

“Nice dog,” she said sarcastically, before sitting back down in her chair.

"Yeah he is, gets a bit bite-y when he hears people talking shit though. Must be allergic." I let Sparky let out a bark to properly punctuate my sentence end for my new best friend.

If I must treat people the way I want to be treated then hey, why not be honest. At least to a degree. I wouldn't want to tell them their bumbling display here made my opinion of the department plummet through the ground from "unfairly disadvantaged" to "why are these clowns still alive".

Well, shouldn't judge a book by its cover. That people do this plays in my hands all the time after all. If these guys really are the best killers it probably pays to not piss them off. Except the ones that talk shit about Sparky, fuck those guys.

I keep watching for a tiny bit longer, or to better phrase that, Sparky watches for me. To be honest, I don't give the slightest fuck about who we're going to hunt here. These files might as well have been compressed from a summary after being censored for all they tell you. What's more important is getting somebody I can work with.

Or at least die happy together.

And speaking of that, seems like groups were already building. And that one fine lady is totally wasting herself on that girl anybody could consider attractive if it didn't sound like fucking bagpipes everytime she opened her mouth.

Should probably save her from that.

"I think the current arrangement is a bit uh, how should I say..." I scratch my head. "...you're going to put me together with this...thing here...Rebbecca, right?" I try to point as obviously as possible on the retarded one. "How about we do this together instead, I think this will result in less communication difficulties."

[Katie]

"Yeah he is, gets a bit bite-y when he hears people talking shit though. Must be allergic." I let Sparky let out a bark to properly punctuate my sentence end for my new best friend.

“Woah, you think I’m talking shit about your dog? Give me a break, it’s just the same as mine. Here, boy, say hi to your new friend.” She whistled, and you could feel the surge of energy as something fairly large materialized at her feet, letting out a howl as it did so. A rather large wolf, spectral, hazy, and most importantly, now that it had materialized, you could see it staring right at Turner, fangs bared. “Guess it’s the same with everyone, being way too attached to your dog… Well, if you want your freak dog to avenge his honor, we can have a dumb dogfight or something. I don’t care—do whatever makes you happy.”

She pulled out her pipe and stuck it in her mouth, ignoring the fact it wasn’t lit. She reached into her pocket again, and you could hear a small plastic bag open, but when her hands leaft, it’s empty.

“Good job for remembering the no smoking policy, Charity!” Sakuragi said, clapping her hands. “You know how hard it is to look good in front of those morons if you smell like you came out of a forest fire? What makes this job so attractive to smokers anyway?”

She slumped back in back in her seat, hungry eyes taking a quick look at both Turner and Vidya. Some things were much better in person, she mused to herself. Coyote, or, rather, Charity twitched at hearing her name,

“Fuck you, it’s not like anyone you deal with has a shred of self-respect anyway,” Coyote said, vigorously scratching the neck of her spiritual hound. “I mean, there’s us, and there are your nice friends high up there… Really, there’s only the Lords who know how to treat you like the dirt that you are.”

Sakuragi shrugged, a dispassionate look on her face. “You just really like trying to make others mad… Seriously, maybe you loosen up a bit, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t!”

While Sakuragi and Coyote went at it, insults and bored quips being slung back and forth, the two youngest girls simply shifted away in their seats. It was weird to see Kanade somehow manage to scoot to a side using only her back, which was a rather impressive feat, all things considered.

“Sorry.” You all heard the older Matsumiya sister say, just loud enough to be heard.

“This kinda happens a lot. We’re pretty dysfunctional... Coyote’s not bad, just gets mad easily.” Kanade said, apparently focused on her competitive game of Tetris with her sister. She looked at Turner and at Seraphinia, before coming up with the wordy statement of “There could be worse.”

“Ainsworth, Armand, Hawthorne, Shrike. But considering the missions left…” Hibiki rattled off, frowning as her screen suddenly became filled with blocks. Her sister was frantically mashing at buttons, far more than one would’ve expected. Soon enough, Hibiki let out a groan of defeat and closed her game.

“I’m not gonna say switch, but I wouldn’t say… Well, there isn’t much info to go on. Just pick something and hope for the best, I guess.” Kanade simply shrugged, her voice rather deflated, before folding the console and stuffing it in a jacket pocket. “If anyone’s content in what they picked, Hibiki and I can help round up some homunculi so you can move in faster. Our treat. Right?”

“Right.” Hibiki pulled her sister up, and then looked around, pointing towards a rather large, open hallway. “Most of the open rooms are thataway.”

--------

If you don’t feel like posting, tell me so we can skip to the preparatory phase! Moon, Buster, Morm, and Plue should probably get stuff settled!

[Mooncake]

Lillian Thornberry


"I think the current arrangement is a bit uh, how should I say... you're going to put me together with this...thing here...Rebbecca, right? How about we do this together instead, I think this will result in less communication difficulties."

"An' that'd be an even shame, acause o oor odds in skeel. A cannae hunt the Roushie withoot killin him, an the ither tw're quirkie fer me. Leavin' that aside, thare micht be anither way? Mebbe," Lillian considered, then thought better of it, watching as Coyote – Charity, that is – came under fire from Sakuragi.

The Scotswoman narrowed her eyes at the admittedly Asian magus. That Indian man was hers, dammit.

She had to make sure Sakuragi got the memo.

"Hmph. It's all guid an weel. A'll say it's daeless, Turner. Yer a muckle man, a'm shuir you can steek yer hert ta the haundlin."

Anyways, she'd had enough of the talk for now. Lillian wanted to find an open room and do a fair number of things in rapid order, not least taking a shower after she hopefully found somebody to fight with. Or talk with. She had found one regularly led to the other, if they lasted long enough to speak.