Black wednesday

Circe hurried as quick as she could, but they were already gaining on her.

Market-night had come to Stygia, and she'd headed into town with her rusty wheelbarrow, filled to the brim with shiny rocks and small trinkets she'd cleaned and polished. Long before she'd had finery and indulgences, Circe was thin and dirty, wearing a potato sack for a dress. She'd dyed it black with silt from a river, but it looked ugly still. She wasn't wearing shoes, and the rocky road here from the ash plains hadn't been fun. Once she'd secured passage through the gates, she'd headed to the causeways, resigned. The Devils with more money had greater precedent, but she was stuck with the other junk-sellers on the fringes.

Setting herself between a wagon selling cooked rats and a stand of wolf T-shirts, Circe set her wares up and went to work, keeping money and change in a little iron lockbox. Wheeling and dealing was a part of the market, and she did well for herself, especially without buying food for the night. Only realizing she was being stared at and sized up had made her finally pack up, quickly leaving before anyone else had even started their teardown.

It wasn't until she'd made it to the edge of the mountains did she turn and spot the demons following her with a hellhound on a chain. The piece of wood with nails driven in it she kept for protection seemed too small in her mind as she'd frantically hurried on.

It hadn't mattered. They'd caught her along a bend in the path, jumping down and landing, braying laughter and fire. When she told the story later on, Circe would always leave out how she'd screamed in fear. There were four, and they were much bigger than her, red skin under chainmail. The Hellhound barked and slavered molten spittle, barring it's teeth. They'd kept laughing with an echo as they threw her out of the way and ripped into her wheelbarrow, tossing her treasures aside.

The roar had sounded like a T-Rex or a Dragon, something stretching it's lungs and letting everything for miles know it was discontent. The demons had eyed the walls of lead around them before one had shoved her lockbox at her and demanded she open it. She would've- at that point Circe had only wanted to escape with her life-

The boulder came out of nowhere, the stone impacting and shaking the earth as two demons were pulverized underneath it. Circe wriggled to her hands and knees, watching something land from it's plummet and slowly straighten all the way out. Her impression was of height and power, and she put her hands over her head to hide under her tangled hair.

"...You woke me up. Go away." Said the monster in a low, low voice. She never saw what Nyx had done to either one; only that when she finally looked up after all the sounds had died, one was dead and broken in a small crater, while the other was so much gristle spread out in an arc. The other Devil stomped hard enough to shake the ground and waved her arms as the Hellhound barked and ran, chain leash trailing. She didn't know why she felt so tired and drained...

The last thing she saw before it passed a metal claw over her face and she slept was tall, tall horns and an unhappy little frown.

When Circe awoke, she scrambled up and flinched, looking around; she was at her shack in the plains, her cart next to her. Her eyes widened before she checked, but everything she hadn't sold was back inside, along with her money. She frowned and looked around again, but the only clues were tracks in the grey; hers from leaving, and a long tread that ended at her and went back along itself toward the foothills. The other must've carried her and her cart...

Circe scratched her head and shivered, staring back up at the red-capped peaks again before she took her cart inside and locked the door.

Bill's friend.

She'd never be comfortable here, but that was the point.

Jack sat in the church basement, head on her fists and watching someone she'd never seen before introduce themselves. Wren and Anne were waiting in her truck, the others in the dream while she was in a meeting. It had been a long month, harder than she'd thought it would be, but she'd made it without slipping up. Continued work on Molehu in her off time and Danai visiting every so often kept her busy.

The woman sat down, and Jack crouched lower in her seat, but it was too late. Whatever the person leading the meeting was saying, she couldn't quite hear, but they were glancing at her. Up until now she'd passed or not said anything, but eventually she stood up and crossed her arms, frowning.

"...I'm Jack. Parents wanted another boy." She shrugged. "It's been about a month since my last drink, and damn, it's... A grind. I quit work for the day and I know I'm not taking the edge off, it's just going to build up. I put a hole in a wall over an argument and no one I live with will talk about it. I wake up pissed and go to bed pissed... It shouldn't be like this, but I guess that's on me." She said, looking from face to face and feeling overexposed. She was trying to enunciate everything clear instead of mumble.

"I've been thinking about it, and putting stuff together I hadn't before. Like how after my dad died, I'd find emoty bottles around and not know why they were there. My mom never drank in front of me, but I wonder... Well, whatever. Past now. I dunno, I'm just wondering if without drinking I'm a worse person than usual. That hole I mentioned, there's this girl, Trace, and she put cat ears on my power armor. Which is nothing, right? Just a joke. Except I got in her face and punched a wall because I really, really wanted to punch her. Dinner later was tense." She deadpanned and then sighed.

"But happiness from a bottle is false, I have to keep that in mind. Things are good otherwise. Things are real good... I just have to not fuck everything up, that's all. I have to stay strong, it's just- I'm not the kind to moan and complain, but the days are too long and they're getting longer. That's, uh, all." She said, sitting down.

As the meeting went on, she grit her teeth and felt a bite of guilt again.

Golden

Midday was giving way to dusk as Agatha and Kirk walked the road back to Greencrest, the woman easily keeping pace with his horse. She'd had plenty of sunlight today, and felt energized and content. As long as she got at least four hours of direct light, she didn't have to eat for the day, and would only need four or so hours of sleep in the night before waiting for sunrise. Being more than half plant had come with a few perks she didn't quite mind.

They both stopped and looked over; from behind hilltops, they could see tents and streamers, hear excited and happy people, smell food being fried and prepared. Kirk looked overjoyed as he waved at the spectacle.

"It's a Fair! Lucky us, eh? Here I'd thought it would be all business this trip." He laughed, leading the way. He turned around after a few steps, looking confused at Agatha, who was standing and uncomfortably still looking over.

"...Sorry, I'd rather not. Why don't we keep going? We'll be halfway back before setting camp for the night." She said anxiously.

"What? You'd really rather sleep in a field instead of a bed?" Kirk asked her.

"Yes. Absolutely." She said without hesitation. Kirk kept looking at her like she was speaking another language before she sighed.

"...They'll see me, and it won't be their day anymore. They'll cheer, and joke, and offer us free food and drink, and I'll be introduced to more than a few first-born sons. They'll toast me and ask for stories and... And it's not right. They'll put me over themselves as though I'm a saint, or better than them, like I'm some sort of hero."

"Aren't you some sort of hero?" Kirk asked, nonplussed.

"No, not at all! I'm still a nobody, just one who can lift a cow over her head. I don't do this for fame or for the common good, I do this because someone has to, and I've yet to be enough. To be good enough. I don't deserve praise and I certainly don't deserve adulation for just happening to exist and doing a mediocre job."

"...She really did a number on you, didn't she?" Kirk asked quietly, and Agatha looked away, going red from being caught out. "They cheer and all that because they like you, Agatha. It isn't about putting you on a pedestal- it's that when people need help, or need saving or defended, you're always there. You're a hero whether you want to be or not."

"You've that right." She admitted, still wavering.

"Just once, imagine having fun without those sorts of worries-"

"I have fun!"

"Name one fun thing you've done in the last two weeks."

Agatha paused and looked askance, before opening her mouth and raising a finger to point-

"Other than gardening."

Agatha lowered her finger and closed her mouth before slowly nodding. "You may... be right on this matter. Oh, alright- we'll, we'll have a day at the Fair. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just were hoping for a lion's share of the free food." She smiled.

"Well, you can't eat meat anyway. It may as well not go to waste!"

When they got there, it was much as Agatha had foreseen- a lot of people and animals milling around in a field, food being made, games being played and a few rides still set up, and once they'd realized who she was, it was again much as she'd guessed. People were overjoyed to see her, and she did her best to pass words with them in return. The crops were growing well, ready for harvest, the wolf pack she'd driven away hadn't come back, had she fought a troll, had she ever fought a griffin, if she needed anything-

Doing her best to keep her feet, she eventually put her arm over Kirk's horse and squeezed the more anxiety she felt, until it turned and gave her a haughty, affronted look. Once they made their way to the food and sat, she was encircled, everyone talking and passing plates and fare around. She took the middling vegetables for her meal, while Kirk stuffed three plates full and clanked a tankard of beer with another man. Agatha quietly nibbled on a corncob and jerked in surprise when someone touched the flower in her back.

It was a nice evening, one she hadn't expected. The wooden Ferris wheel was a little small, and some of the pigs reared up and stampeded Kirk in their pen, but otherwise she enjoyed herself. Looking around after the torches had been lit at all the people together and at peace, she felt a tiny spark of satisfaction and didn't let herself extenguish it.

Sunrise

"...Do you see them?"

"No, sorry, not yet."

Agatha and Kirk stood on another piece of dirt road miles away from Greencrest, the Knight restless, the woman staring directly into the sun like she'd been doing for almost ten minutes. It didn't hurt or blind her; the light and the heat felt good across her skin, like a large furry robe hung near a fire before being put on. She couldn't see her surroundings, instead scrying through the woods with it's help. Too high and all she could see was treetops, but too low and she'd never find the needles in the haystack she sought.

The people of Oldstone had stayed behind locked doors until they'd seen her, at which point they had become more welcoming. Agatha was hard to mistake for anyone else, and she'd fought off an ogre in the town square not four months ago.

The first evidence she had were donkey tracks in the dirt, leading away towards the bend of a river, and following along with them had at last shown her the camp. Kirk must have overestimated the numbers; there were fifteen men ambling around the fire, some working, some sharpening blades, some eating. They looked bitter and hard, like most mercenaries tended to.

"Found them. Two miles east and a little north, I think, upright. They don't quite look settled in... I thought you said there were thirty or so? I count half that." She said in aside to him, slowly turning her vision around the camp and frowning at a bear-like man when he spit in the river.

"That was what I was told. Could be they split to cover ground or guard pillage." Kirk shrugged. "Is that near enough for you to...?"

Almost. I'll need to get a little closer, I think." She sighed and blinked, finally looking away from the sun and towards the forest wall on the side of the road. "I've never liked this part... Join me when you can?" She asked, turning and walking in. Kirk sighed and nodded, leading his horse in after her.

Agatha kept walking, her white hemline getting caught on sticks and brambles, but she let it tear loose and made her way in. It wasn't meant to look nice all the time, just distract the eye and confuse her shape when she moved. She had a closet full of them. Once within range she raised her head and kept the image of the camp in her mind, willing herself to move and be free-

Her body turned to sunlight and was gone like dandelion on the wind; Kirk kicked a root and looked around before he sighed again and headed to meet her afterward. She reappeared 180 feet away, next to the river all at once, out of thin air; before they'd done more than jump she'd shoved the man she'd spotted into the water before looking around and planting her sword in front of her. The blade was bigger than she was and it gleamed like a mirror.

"...Hello." She started, stilted. "I know who you are and I know what you've done. The dead you've left in your wake cry out, and they're owed justice at the least." She continued, looking around with readiness in the set of her shoulders and grip.

"What have we done?" Asked one, eight around drawing bows and knocking arrows. The others had their weapons in their hands, but were waiting to maul her to death.

"I had friends in Bluestone, and in Fox's Quarry. You killed them like dogs in the street for sport. If you were just bandits and brigands I'd have let you live, but you're a plague, and-" she went on, bracing her sword in time for the bows to loose. Her eyes widened as her form once again became something like rolling motes of sunlight. She didn't waste any time, racing over in a flash before she became physical again, her blade already swinging out-

She'd set herself in place, and she turned as she swung, her sword long and heavy enough to carve two men in half. They weren't prepared, and she didn't blame them. If she wasn't as strong as she was, she would've dragged the thing in the dirt behind her and struggled to poke people with the pommel. Instead she hefted it back up and spun before swinging low and chopping off a man at the knees. When she arose, four arrows hit her in the upper back, two of them punching through and going into her lung. She hissed before whipping around and charging the archers down, or at least trying to before she hit the swords and axes of her enemies.

The arrows had hurt, but they didn't anymore. Her blood was like sap, and it didn't much run. After breaking a guard and then cleaving another enemy in half she'd raised her sword to strike before it lit up, bright like a sunrise, burning with sudden heat. She accidentally set a tent on fire from contact with straw, but otherwise was able to keep killing her way through them. As long as she was attacking, she was unstoppable; her defense was hit or miss, and in the case of a few axes, it was a hit. The swords had more trouble with her armor, but by dint of it's nature she took chops in her sides and arms as a matter of course.

Agatha didn't smile because she didn't enjoy this, or so she told herself. This was for her dead friends. She knew those families to speak to. She'd been in their houses. If she slipped up and they knew she was nearby instead of there she usually was allowed a bed for the night. And they'd died for nothing.

The last one was holding his sword and his shield up, she met his eyes and briefly hesitated before he ran at her and she ran him through. It was messy, but she'd gotten good enough at to make it work.
Sliding her glowing blade from the wounds with a hiss of smoke, she extinguished it before looking around and then down at the dead man.

When Kirk arrived she'd dragged the bodies in a row and healed her wounds after cleaning her sword off. Her white was mostly head to toe red, and she glumly waved at his silent stare. He dismounted and she rose before shrugging and looking over at something, pursing her lips.

"...Could you put out that campfire? Sorry, I'd really rather not go near it." She said apologetically. He blinked and then laughed before looking for canteens to empty, while she smiled modestly.

No place like home

Agatha looked up and wiped imaginary sweat off her brow, finally able to see the results of her work.

Greencrest was her hometown, but the house she'd grown up in looked the same as ever; clapboards leaning drunkedly, a washed out gray-brown color planted in the corner of a weedy glade. Her earliest memories were of picking flowers in the field and catching frogs in the river to the south, but the sight of home itself made her frown, small and guarded. She shrugged off the plow's harness, raised her arms, and stretched with a yawn.

Their old horse had died years and years ago; although the field had grown fallow and she'd found other places to cultivate, in the last few years she'd made an effort to do something about it when she could. In the time they'd let it lay, stones had grown more numerous than plants. She'd almost broken the blade twice, and her shoulders hurt, but she had pushed on. It hadn't been easy, although plowing the field hadn't been nearly as hard as she'd thought it would be. Once she'd started moving she'd been able to keep moving as long as she didn't stop.

Agatha put her hands on her hips and smiled at the broken dirt around her, quietly pleased with herself. She knelt down and brushed off a thistle before popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. It was too late in the season for flowering plants, but if she planted a few tubers-

The yell made her stand and immediately look back at the house, frightened, but there was no sound from it. She went to draw her sword before remembering where she'd left it and her armor, instead lifting the plow with both hands and holding it's edge up. She lowered it back to earth a few moments later when a rider came into view, waving and grinning. Her heart slowed down by degrees.

"About time I found you! Don't you get mail here in the sticks?" He laughed, riding up and dismounting. The man wearing plated armor had an open sort of face, one used to smiling more than anything else. He glanced over her shoulder and she grimaced.

"No, the postmaster wouldn't accept barter, only payment. Now they hold my letters in town. I didn't want them delivered here... It's good to see you, Kirk. When was the last time...?"

"Few months or so. 'S why I'm here, matter of fact. The order needs it's figurehead to sort something out. You heard about the war?"

"Which one?" She asked, and he laughed. It hadn't been a joke.

"There's a mercenary company operating behind the lines, in your territory. Thirty men or so, killing and torching and raping their way across the greenbelt. The Rose can't spare any companies to take care of it, but..." He trailed off, waving his hands at her. She nodded, thinking it over.

"They won't draft me afterwards, will they?" She asked warily. Part of the agreement for her training, gear, and membership was that technically she wasn't a knight, and held no titles or degrees of nobility herself. Defending her hearth and home was all she wanted to do, not fight battles for the gains of petty despots. She was nothing more than a mascot, something for people to swap stories about.

"No, the agreement stands! Just, it's a Rose problem. Best have you handle it." He said guilelessly. "You know where Oldstone is? It's not on my map..."

"I know where it is. It's to small to bother writing in, but the people there are good hearted. I'm sorry, I'll be just a moment, let me gather my things." She said, hurrying across her field and picking her way between furrows.

When she neared the house she slowed and began to creep, trying to make as little noise as possible. The creak of her door almost made her hiss nervously, but she kept it in and made her silent way to the room that had always been hers. It was very small, now, and she didn't fit her old bed, but she'd kept it as it was before she'd left. Her rack of bottles and leaves, shoots, and stems sat at weary attention.

Agatha ripped off the patched green tunic and hurriedly slipped her thin armor on, the ironwood light but strong as steel. Metal gear made her uncomfortable, and left the large rose growing out of the small of her back exposed or crushed. She eyed it in her dirty mirror, the flower a little bigger than a basketball and deep, arterial red. No one knew what it was, or where it had come from, but once it had bloomed everything had changed...

Listening one last time for noise or movement like a rabbit in it's den, Agatha took a deep breath and once again snuck out of her house, mentally cursing the door before she was free. She hoisted her massive blade up so the sun glared off it and smiled at Kirk, who smiled back before glancing over her shoulder again.

"Why don't you just-"

"Because. That's all. Are we racing there?" She asked challengingly, hoping to shift the subject.

"I don't think so. Hate to put the poor beast through that." He said, mounting up and patting his horse's head. Agatha gathered herself and set off alongside, sword on her shoulder. She tried her hardest not to look back, but she did anyway.

It's a living.

It was another busy night at the Blue Lagoon mall.

Neo Death was at her place in the Meh Burger in the food court, the expediter at the end of the line. One person cooked the meat and started the food, another built the sandwiches and orders, and her job was to wrap them and send them out to the customers in bags or on trays. She wore her normal small smile as she quickly put two combo meals in a bag and handed them to a family waiting; they thanked her and she dipped her head. Other than not being able to run a register, she was proficient enough at the job.

The Neo Elementals had stayed behind after the Clashkin and the Alternates had gone back to Solis; in the wake of the offseason, they'd realized they would need to get jobs if they wanted to keep their room at the hotel. Death didn't eat or sleep, herself, but she had wanted to do her part to keep her two sisters safe and happy. She knew she was lucky; two people had walked off the job right before she'd applied, or otherwise they likely wouldn't have hired a mute with no background to speak of.

"Fries down!"

Death adjusted her hat and poured the frozen fries into a basket before dropping them into the fryer and setting the timer, briefly sighing before wiping her apron off and going back to making food. She spotted her War sitting at a table, but her cheery wave went unseen.

Black axe sitting next to her, the War grumpily moved her hair out of her face and bit into a steak sub like it was the throat of an enemy. With her appearance and the weapon chained to her, it had seemed like slim pickings for her own employment, until she'd spotted people in uniforms moving almost unseen, sweeping the floors and taking trash bags to big carts. She'd applied and been hired as a janitor, but the work was grinding in her. There were always so many things to clean up from careless and clumsy people, and it was hard to keep her frustrations to herself. Two months ago every human in here would have been afraid of her; now they joked about her weird look and threw their trash on the floors like she wanted to pick it up for them.

Putting down her sandwich, she went back to her book, highlighting a part about improper fractions. Extreme Book Club had shown her what she needed to do; even if it was only a Good Enough Degree, a GED would at least let her move up and do something more. For now, she stewed in her frustrations and counted down the minutes until her break was over.

Out of the three, Lexi had had the most luck; she was working in an Abercrombie, and had finally gotten comfortable enough that she didn't skulk on pins and needles through the store. After getting used to wearing clothes instead of just the minimum and her armor, she actually kind of liked working. Other than sneezing her first day and rotting a blouse into rags, she'd been doing well, although her manager kept stumbling and somehow touching her breasts. She didn't know exactly why, since they were accidents, but it made her very uncomfortable. Even knowing she could've torn his arm from his body like a drumstick, she needed this job...

"I don't know which one to get... What do you think?" Asked the girl she was helping, holding three different blouses. Lexi considered them before putting her hands on her hips and smiling.

"Somebody really smart told me you have to follow your heart with this kind of thing- Fashion doesn't have to be just one way, what matters is what you like! What you're happiest with will always look the best on you. We have changing rooms if you want to try them on." She offered, before leading the way.

Opening the door for her, Lexi looked around and then furtively opened up her flip phone. Technically it belonged to all three of them, but she used it the most, primarily to text Shimmer like she was doing now. Her eyes would always be a little fishlike, but the deadness in them was lessening every day. She jumped and guiltily put it away when the door opened.

"Oh, yeah- I like that one! It really goes with your hair and stuff." She encouraged, the other girl smiling at her.

President Evil

It had been a eventful few hours, and the day wasn't half done.

In her combination office and throne room, Euryale brooded behind steepled fingers and watched two of her administrators argue and snipe at each other over where a small surplus of gold would be going, after she'd once again refused to have a statue of her built in one of her cities square. It wasn't out of modesty; she knew perfectly well what she looked like, and a statue couldn't have come close. It would have been a waste of resources and money to prop up her own vanity, and without that, it would have just been a waste.

Between shouts and recrimations, she rubbed her temples and finally stood, looking between them.

"At this juncture, our standing forces would not benefit from this small of a sum. I've already granted as many of our resources as can be spared to their ends. Crime continues to be a problem... Have either of you heard the theory of Broken Windows? No? No matter. Our law enforcement offices are overwhelmed. The coin will go to their continued upkeep and training." She decided. One man frowned and then angrily bowed, while the other did so with a small smile. It made her smile in turn.

"That will be all for now... Davidson. Stay behind. There is another matter." She said, the winner of the dispute pausing and then closing her door. She leaned over her desk and narrowed her slit eyes at him.

"Have you come any closer to discovering who is stealing from the coffers?"

"Yes, yes I have, your grace. Calmin of the front office is the culprit. He's been laundering it through another party to divest it from the Greed and from you and make it his own. If we act now, we may be able to find the-"

"Oh, I have found him." She said sweetly, coming from behind the desk. "My consort drew much the same conclusion before interrogating Calmin. He told us everything and was able to prove it as well."

Davidson turned pale as a corpse.

"...You thought me a fool." She said in that same sweet voice. If not for her bunched shoulders or the glowing eyes, they might have been sharing a joke. "You stole food from my subject's mouths and played me like a violin. Did you think I would be forever blind to the rat within my walls?"

Pacing in front of him, she let the silence stretch out.

"I need your expertise more than I need a corpse. Understand you are not forgiven- you will pay it back, every single cent, with ten percent interest compounded daily." She said flatly. Circe had told her what terms to use. "This is your only and final chance. If you betray me or mine again, I will kill you and strew your pieces in the streets that dogs may worry at your bones. That is not a threat or a promise- it is cause and effect. Do we understand each other?"

He nodded-

"Say it."

"Y-yes, yes we do, your lordship."

"Then get out of my sight and count yourself fortunate. Luck like this comes once and never again."

After he'd left, she looked out to the deserted hallway before locking the doors and slumping with her head in her hands. Only Hrol really knew how much her day to day responsibilities weighed on her; otherwise she kept up a brave face, but she felt like she was drowning by degrees. It was a constant battle of second-guessing and brittle hope- her decisions affected many, many lives, and a single wrong one could spell disaster.

Walking over to a mirror, she met her own eyes and swallowed before gripping it's sides tightly.

"You are Hell's Pride. You are Hell's Pride. You are Hell's Pride..." She told herself, hating the weakness she could hear, hating how shiny with repressed fear and weariness her eyes were.

A late morning

She had to check each and every lock, doors and windows, all throughout the dark mansion. The ceilings were cathedral-like and wreathed in shadows, looming high above her. Candlelight could never really banish the darkness that ruled this part of Hell, but the flickering gloom suited her fine. Circe didn't need light to see by anyway. She undid the catch on a window and closed it again, putting her hand in it and staring silently before walking a few feet to the next one to repeat the process, until she'd satisfied herself that everything was secure. If she didn't check, the results would be vague yet certainly catastrophic.

She could've paid someone to do this, but she was used to her own quirks at this point. Every day after waking up and every night before sinking into sleep she had to make sure. It was an obsession and a compulsion, but considering how hard she'd had to work and scrimp and save over the years, it was perhaps understandable. Passing by an oil painting depicting tigers playing cards and having tea, she undid another lock and redid the catch.

The walls were a deep, rich wine color, and there were other paintings and pieces of deals gone right all around. None of the vases or triptychs or phylacteries or chests or statues or other art had cost her anything; they were all either gifts or part of a bundled package. The idea of actually spending her money on anything, including buying more than seven pairs of black clothes or basic needs like food made her break out in a cold sweat and feel faint. Walking by the McDonald's next to her kitchen, she paused at the counter and looked up at the massive slab of bones, spikes, and aggression.

"Good evening, Vizikier. I'd like an iced coffee, extra sprinkles, please."

The other Devil nodded and made her the drink, tipping it's hat to her before it went back to wiping the counter. Circe smiled and flounced away, sipping contentedly and going back and checking her locks. Nearing the last of them, she looked around before clicking her fingers together and clearing her throat.

"Vivian?"

A human girl appeared from the gloom, rubbing her eyes and double-checking her clipboard. Like most all of Circe's servants, she was pale from a lack of sunlight. As her enterprise had grown, Circe had made deals and contracts with all manner of beings to keep it functionally running; Vivian had had a disease that was incurable in 1920. Circe had bought ownership of her soul for pennies on the dollar and since then kept her on as her assistant

"What does my schedule seem to be today?" Circe asked, stirring her coffee. Vivian flipped around the papers on her clipboard.

"Well... Archfiend Kalzak has the two hundred pounds of Hellram wool you'd wanted, and sought a meeting. The pirate king of the fire sea was interested in that shipment of AK-47's we'd acquired... Oh. Belphagor, nemesis of the innocent and despoiler of hope wished to book one of the petting zoos for his daughter's seventh birthday." She said quietly. Circe smiled before throwing her empty cup away and locking the very last window in her daily check.

"Good, good. Well, we'd best get started!... Oh, and make a note, please. We've been out of M&M's for Mcflurry's for three days, and I simply won't have that." She said primly, walking along with her hands clasped behind her back. Vivian kept two steps behind her and wrote down what she'd said. "How are my Kuwahawi franchises coming along?"

"We've acquired another Popeye's chicken and a Starbucks... And an Old Navy."

"To us, isn't it a New Navy?" Circe joked. Vivan's expression didn't change, but she penciled that in as well as Circe headed toward her office, the siren song of business and profit calling to her like heroin with a voice.

Clashplot, looking back.

I hear you guys like these sort of things? Well buckle up and get ready for a bunch of words about it!

So, the Genesis of Clash was like most of my jerks; I saw her picture and realized I liked it a lot and could use her as a character. Something I'd learned in 2015 was that a 3rd shift schedule fucking suuuuucks for getting to plots, much less attending them. Originally Clash was going to be a silent weirdo who'd show up possibly in the middle of fights and then disappear as soon as the problem was solved. The earliest power set for her I played with would later be repurposed wholesale for Beth.

The War Elemental thing came about for two reasons; the first being a Magic card called, well, War Elemental, a red creature that can only be played after damaging an opponent and grows stronger the more damage dealt to an opponent while it's alive. I'd never managed to get one, but I really liked the idea of the card and it's art. The idea of an intangible concept like War being embodied was cool to me, although I will say that when Gooper started mentioning Nostalgia Elementals I felt like a jackass for copying him, even unintentionally.

However, I realized having a character only for battles and plots with no personality or motivations to speak of would not only be uninteresting, but pretty lame. The blogpost with Clash that I typed up the night before the season started was spur of the moment, but it left me a lot of room to develop her and, you know, actually have fun with the character.

A lot of the first Clashplot was spur of the moment too, which was something I felt I was alright enough at doing to hammer something together. If Clash were a living weapon made by magic, it was inevitable there would be others, and not necessarily the exact same as her. I'm glad no one called me on having a four horseman motif coming from a world that couldn't possibly have a bible, and I even had Clash mention it at least once.

Anywho, Famine was my attempt to compare and contrast Clash with someone still active in their original role. While Clash was a physical powerhouse who was ignorant of the wider world, Famine was weak and sickly but intelligent. The choppy, emotionless way she spoke was a part of separating her and Clash further. I wanted to show that the system Clash had escaped was like most systems of slavery; circular, unending, and powered by blood.

Conquest and Pestilence were a little different, due to the fact that Famine would get stomped in a physical fight by anyone even slightly competent. Conquest's art came from another magic card; Akroma, Angel of Wrath. I played when she was first released, and managed to get her card; flat out, Akroma at the time was a beast, the kind of creature that could easily win a game on her lonesome. I wanted to capture the idea of a powerful face-smashing Angel without having her be an out and out angel.

Pestilence came about after I cancelled Clashplot; At the time, I thought other people's plots that had HAD build-up, that had HAD other people get invested deserved schedule days much more than my lame bullshit, and at a certain point I realized it just wasn't going to happen. Me personally, I hate half-assing things, and I didn't want to run a boring five or six hour long fight club that was attended just out of politeness. I knew I'd have to finish what I started, and introducing Pestilence off-world was my way of saying "Hey, I know that was a big ol' letdown wet fart, but it's not over yet!"

Jumpropeman commented once that the Alternates were a way to salvage the plot after making the Elementals too relatable, and honestly, he wasn't wrong. I like making my Villians as close to actual people as possible, and sometimes it works, while other times it doesn't.

For the most part, I was trying to have your character's actions influence the plot; if you'd all wanted to kill the Elementals/Alternates/Neos, I would have written it out like that. I kind of didn't expect you guys to save everybody, but hell, it worked for me. Railroading is generally a garbage thing to do, and I wanted to try and avoid doing it as much as I could. If nothing else, I hope you all had fun with the plot; I still don't know if it was satisfying, but at least we got it done.

Divine Wind

It was tiny patch of land, all things considered. A square that was one mile by one mile, buried on the main island of Kuwahawi like a tie rack drowning in an overstuffed closest. The ground was flat but for a single hill, a very thin river ran through it, and it had been clear cut down to the grass on the ground. There was nothing valuable on it, nothing worth taking and nothing worth stealing, but it belonged to her all the same. For now the General dug out her potatoes, stabbing at the dirt with a spade and ripping the spuds out.

No one knew where she'd come from or who she was, least of all her; She'd walked out of the waves one day a few years ago, all her red clothes soaked, her hat overflowing with water before she'd drawn her sword, marched up the beach, and declared war on the island.

It had been a relatively short engagement. After bathing a city block in gunfire and sending artillery barrages at a SWAT team, someone had the bright idea to negotiate for peace before she razed everything. It had stopped her in her tracks, head down, thinking it over before the weaponry that followed her switched to parade rest and she sheathed her blade. The battle was vital, the war was life, but it was also only a means to an end. The square of scrubland was territory conquered, even if it was small and unimportant.

Ever since then she'd lived quietly, for the most part, building and sleeping in a one room shack with a dirt floor she'd hammered together out of pallets, growing her garden, and following the terms of the treaty that had been drawn up. The other islands weren't all that great anyway. There was only one of her, and at some point, her reach would've exceeded her grasp. Better a bird in hand than gambling on two or three roosting in the bushes.

Quiet voices made her snap her head up and stand, throwing her large red coat back across her shoulders as she marched around her hill, eyes steely and mouth in an irritated crescent. She knew she'd come around and see a few idiot tourists without even spotting them or listening hard. The locals knew about her and knew her two simple requests; not to step foot on her land, and to never, ever pick anything out of her garden. In return she kept out of their lives and away from their own property.

What she didn't know was that certain locals, after being held up like fascinating kitschy specimens or having their culture treated like a zoo by those same tourists would every now and then send the idiots to her. The General had special a way with people.

When she spotted the two teenagers, she was able to approach within twenty feet by the time they spotted her, and her hand crept to her sword before eight older single-shot rifles floated behind her in a half wheel like wings. She adjusted her hat as all three of them looked at each other.

"Uh... Hi. Are you the-"

"You shit for brains not see the barbed wire? Or the signs?" She snapped, almost drawing her blade. Four of the guns behind her went off as she stared to the other one. "Get out now."

"...This isn't a, uh, Hemp farm?" Asked the other timidly. The General's glare deepened.

"I don't grow weeds. Go away." She said seriously, the other four guns discharging to prove her point. She waited until they were almost at the edge of the trees before she called out "Wait!" General Oda knelt down and picked up a fist-sized rock before tossing it over her shoulder, eyes still locked on both the trespassers. It thumped the ground and rolled away, something in the ground clicking-

The land mine exploded, hurling dirt, grass, and fire upward and outward, blowing the tapers of her coat in front of her. Both the tourist's eyes widened like saucers before they were crashing brought the undergrowth. She threw her head back and laughed heartily, arms crossed over her chest.

Day to day

Sitting in the sunlight on the fountain in the square, she looked around with quiet happiness. People were coming and going on the cobblestones, nobles and commoners, all in good cheer, all having a good day. Things were better on Sonon, now that Evalk's long winter had ended; it seemed like the days were warmer, the food better, people more quick to joy than anger. It was a welcome change, after all the hard grey years.

Greencrest was a small city, but the biggest one within leagues of wilderness. It was sizeable enough to have walls and a militia, and it got it's name from the emerald loch that flowed downward in rivers from it's mountain perch. The harbor and houses were made mostly of wood, and further down she could hear the pitches of the fishermen with their catches. It was a quiet, sleepy little town, the sort of place everyone knew almost everyone else's name.

Agatha hadn't lived here all her life; she'd stayed in a cluster of shacks down in the pine woods in the foothills for years, down the river as it flowed into the fields of the south. Before everything had changed, before everything had happened, she'd just been an apothecary. Headache powders, poultices for poisons, and teas were her primary trade, and she knew almost all the plants of the forest by sight.

Things had grown complicated the last number of years, but that was where she'd come from. And now, this town was hers to guard and defend, it and the surrounding area. She frequently felt she didn't do a good enough job, but today her worries weren't worrying at her and she meant to enjoy it.    

She stood up and made her way towards the farmer part of the market, trying to slink and remain quietly unnoticed. Considering she stood out like a snowflake amongst coal, it didn't work, just leaving her hoisting her blade and hurriedly returning people's nods and waves. They believed in her, and whether she liked it or not, she did what she could to return courtesy.

She had to force coins into the old man's hand, but eventually she left a cart and stall with a shiny red apple. People usually didn't want her to pay for things, but that was hardly fair. Leaning against a wall, she bit deep into it and hurriedly wiped her mouth. Leaning her heavy blade next to her, Agatha looked around again contentedly.

"It's her!"

The smile froze on her face she looked up warily, dreading what was coming.

"It's the Rose Knight!" Continued people in a small group, heading towards her. She stood and inclined her head before sinking to a knee. Her white dress fluttered as she got back to her feet and tried to look friendly and nice.

Their trust and their faith were both misplaced, but she didn't think it fair to whine about her lot in life. She was able to guard miles of land by her lonesome, stronger than anything she'd met, and she did her best to be a good person. She'd take the weight of their belief if it meant she could keep her home safe.

"Well met! I'm glad to see you all. How are you this day?" She asked, putting her apple aside, to be forgotten.

A long road

The dead city couldn't have been any creepier.

The smell of old, rotten buildings was in the air, and the ground was covered in shattered glass and debris. Whatever had happened was long enough in the past that blood and bodies weren't in evidence, but gloom and doom hung heavy like rain clouds. Vanessa felt sure they were being watched, although whoever it was kept a low profile; the only sounds not from ruin were her and her sister's footsteps and the drag of her dress's hem on the rough paved road.

The two had talked at first, but conversation had slowed and stopped as they journeyed deeper into the ruined cityscape. Now she kept her proud bearing straight ahead, while Colbie kept looking around, keeping her eyes on as much as she could. Something creaked inside one of the taller buildings, and her hand flashed a knife at her waist before she shrugged it off.

The two finally stopped in front of a sewer grate marked and daubed with blue paint, like a whirlpool or an eye.

"...Always a knack for making a point." Vanessa sniffed, looking down at it. "We could have just as well done this somewhere more pleasant."

"And miss all this?" Colbie asked, waving her hand around them. Somewhere deeper in, a trash can fell to the ground. "Is he even here?"

"Of course, likely just waiting for the right moment-"

"It doesn't work if you spoil it like that." Said the thing that floated from the suddenly smoking blue manhole. Not from the sewers themselves- the merchant they'd come to see walked much darker roads. He looked at them reproachfully before his face settled into it's normal leer.

"My two favorite customers..." Vulgrim hissed, kneading his fingers together. Vanessa bowed her head, while Colbie smirked. "I'll bet you say that to everyone." She returned.

"Only the big spenders, but they ARE all my..." Vulgrim, the Demon Merchant paused and beetled his brow, staring at Vanessa over his claws.

"...What are you wearing?"

"Clothes. What are you wearing?" She asked coldly, while Colbie snorted behind her fist.

"The finest Stygian silk, of course, but... What happened to the sensible slacks and blouse? You look like the cover of a bad gothic romance novel."

"I said a bat, myself, but that's a good one!"

"If we could return to the matter at hand-" Vanessa started.

"Did you get dressed in the dark?... Though with all that black, you wouldn't be able to find your outfit at all. It's a little much, is all." Said the jewel adorned, horned eater of souls matter-of-factly. Colbie chortled while Vanessa's cheeks turned red. She took a sack from the pockets of her long train and dropped it on the ground in front of them.

"Do you wish this deal or not?" She snapped. "Dryad hearts and a live kitten... What do you even wish with such things?"

"The hearts because they are tasty, and I wished to see if you were as good as your word. The kitten because they amuse me. I like watching them fall on their backs and paw the air. Can I not have a hobby?" Vulgrim asked, blinking in innocence before darting forward and snatching the wriggling sack, holding it close before peering at it.

"My word is my bond, surprise, surprise. Now tell me what I wish to know." Vanessa said, crossing her arms and staring daggers at Vulgrim. Colbie put her hands in her hips and watched him too, a ghost of a smile on her face. Her relaxed demeanor hid how ready she was to spill his blood if he turned treacherous or reneged his own promises.

"Very well... Have you ever wondered why the forces of Good always have the best toys? Their wishes are simple to grant and easy to manage, but our lot have to be satisfied with Ape paws and lying Djinn. Seems unfair, don't you think?" He asked, taking a still-beating wooden heart from the bag and crunching it between his fangs.

"Very unfair. More and more every day." Vanessa said tiredly.

"Self pity does you no favors. What you seek is on an island of Earth. Kuwahawi, to be exact. The Unholy Grail is there and waiting to be claimed. All you need do is drink blood from it's cup and an unstringed wish is yours. Simplicity itself."

"The Unholy Grail?"

"Ew, blood?"

"Yes to both of you. It waits for a hand to claim it, as it belongs to itself. If you are strong enough, and true enough to your desire, you may even win through the others who seek it. It is your only hope now. Do you regret signing those contracts, I wonder?"

"No. Never." Vanessa said, not unaware of her sister's sidelong glance.

"I expected as much. I will let you travel through my Serpent Holes to reach the islands, but then our bargain will have run it's curse... Unless you would care to make another deal."

"Oh, certainly. They've all worked out so perfectly." Vanessa said icily, finally relaxing a little. Her rainment jingled with it's silver chains and charms as she considered him. "Are you setting up shop on the islands, then? Or only ferrying us?"

"I may tarry for a spell. There are always bargains to be had amongst mortals, especially at that Bar of theirs... Besides, I can't just wave goodbye to my two favorite customers."

His mocking laughter rang throughout the silent city before they all three went into the blue hole in the ground; once they were gone, so was it, as though it had never been.

The dead zone.

The start; in the dark. Walls are dimly visible. The view pans around, but with only flashlights, it's hard to see anything. It's a tunnel and the walls are made of stone; there's white paint on the walls, something about a WARNING.

"-hah, holy shit, dude-"

"-the beer?"

"You know it!"

"-place is creepy. You guys smell that?"

Five minutes in; a glass door opens. It's like the waiting room of a hospital, but dirty and wrecked. Chairs tipped over, dust on everything, lights burnt and busted out. The view flips around to the face of some teenager, before he takes a drink of Natty light.

"Okay, so, check it. We're in the old facility, it's supposed to be haunted. Sounds like bullshit, though, there's nothing here."

"Bro, give me the camera."

An old, old computer; it looks like an Apple 2, a grey plastic box. Someone scratched a smiley face into the glass screen.

"...weird, man."

Ten minutes in, and more of the same. Corridors with no lights, no sound. Probably underground. The rooms are locked and there's wreckage throughout. Rusty stretchers, clipboards with paper splayed like birds with broken wings. Trash-cans of soda, old bags of chips, a torn condom wrapper.

"You guys hear that?"

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"No, seriously! I heard something..."

Twenty minutes in. An amphitheater, like a lecture hall. Except lecture halls don't usually have tables covered in straps, generators that sit still and silent, or surgical tools scattered around the tile. Or what probably isn't old blood on the walls. Probably.

"Let's go. For real, guys, let's get the fuck out of here."

"Come on, man, quit being a pussy."

"There it is again! You hear it?"

Off camera, it sounds like machinery. A washing machine that's rocking very hard, maybe, or an engine rattling and trying to start. There's no more beers being opened; just silence as they listened hard in the gloom.

The camera shuts off at this point.

Forty minutes in; running. Hard breathing. Someone muttering "Fuck, man, fuck." Again and again. It sounds frightened.

"What the fuck was that, man?"

"Shut up, dude! We're getting out of here, right now. Fuck this. There's, uh..." The camera does another dizzying turn, looking at a frightened face. "There's something in here with us. Something big and pissed. This was a bad idea."

An hour in, back in the hospital waiting room. The camera is on the floor; someone must have dropped it. The silence stretches on until the footsteps come, and there's no mistaking them. They sound heavy and labored, like a refrigerator learned to walk. There's another sound, too, like a carpet of worms in the hollow of a stump, or Mercury being slowly sprayed through a blanket.

The camera goes up, and up, and up, until a new face appears.

It's a girl; her mouth is a blender stuffed with nails, the maw of a metal shark, but her eyes are timid and frightened. Her cheeks are dirty and her hair looks like it hasn't been washed in years.

"...He-hello." Her voice is a speak-and-spell stomped through by a boot, a text to speech program being read through cheap speakers. She sounds like this place looks.

"I hope they're gone. Those boys were scary. And they littttered. They yelled a lot when they saw me. I just wanted to be fr-I ends." She said. "...If you see this, please come back. You left your soda..."

Whoever found the camera at the entrance to this place would hopefully know to leave well enough alone in the future.

Filler dreams.

Wren and Ino opened the door silently, the airless Martian landscape making the hinges silent before they both stepped through. Wren took off the glass helmet of her old-timey spacesuit and turned around to raise a hand in farewell.

"Goodbye, Midori! We'll visit you again in another few nights." She called, smiling as Ino shut the door. The two of them were dream-walking, and in the silence of the imaginary Las Vegas bathroom, their gear slowly disappeared until they were back in their usual outfits. Fighting evil Martians had been fun, although Ino had wished she could've torn them apart and eaten their little green bodies instead of using blasters to shoot up red dust and craters. There hadn't been any blood or gore, but the two were exhilarated all the same.

Wren very much liked the girl who once had been a hand; Ino was a fan as well. Her cheer and good nature had made the both of them happy, especially after the dreams they'd been a part of. Some hadn't been as nice, but they were all welcome diversions.

"Who next?" Ino asked, looking around at the mirrors that didn't reflect them.

"Hmmm... Do you suppose Jack would mind if we popped in?"

"Oh. Well... Yes. I think she'd take that rather badly." Ino said frankly. The one time she'd offered to join Jack in a dream, the deaf blacksmith had looked horrified before silently whipping her head side to side. Ino didn't blame her. She understood. It took time to stop dwelling on trauma, and Jack had seemingly never had a period of recovery other than her prison time.

"Ah well. What about your friend, H'astra?"

"I think she and Rahat are busy."

"Hmm." Wren thought about it, quirking her head. "Well, I suppose Etch wouldn't mind some company."

"Oh, I remember her! Yes, that sounds fun. I wonder if she dreams in black and white..." Ino said, hurrying over and opening the door again before they both stepped through into another dreamscape.

Etch's store was dark, but Wren could see fine through her eye wraps; she lit a lamp and looked around at the stock on the shelves and the countertop. The fireplace was dim and glowering; they both turned their heads as a refrigerator opened in the back.

The two walked over to the imaginary kitchen and opened the door, to see Ko wearing a black robe, her arms loaded down with food and plates. She turned around and blinked from behind the small picnic she was carrying, before her brow furrowed.

"What the hack are you two doing here?" She asked, sounding confused and a little guilty.

"Oh, just out for a little sight-seeing. Is this your dream, then? How have you been-"

"Ko? Come back to bed~" someone called from upstairs.

"One second, Caur- er, uh-" her face flushed as her gaze snapped back to the two of them, who were suddenly both on tenterhooks. "...I'm kind of busy right now. Call ahead or something next time, alright?" She grumbled at them. Ino blinked, confused, before Wren put a hand on her shoulder and started to drag her out.

"Yes, of course, so sorry- it was good to see you again- we'll, er, look for you on the Islands-" Wren stammered, before backing out of the kitchen and the store both, back to the bathroom that stood in as their hub. Ko watched them leave before she sighed and morosely bit into a chicken leg.

"...Maybe we should stick to our house for now." Ino suggested, subdued. Wren slowly nodded before the door opened again and Inshabel poked her head in.

"Would either of you happen to know where I put the syrup? It seems to have vanished, and I'd much prefer to have it for the pancakes I'll be making for breakfast."

"I think we used it all, Inshabel. I'm very sorry. Shall we pick some up?" Ino asked.

"Oh, no, dear. Don't trouble yourselves. I'll have it by the morning. Do have fun!" She said pleasantly, closing the door behind her. Wren gathered herself before looking down at Ino, who looked back up at her.

"...Why don't we call it a night?" Wren suggested. Ino unhappily nodded before they left, going back to the house they shared and falling into their own sleep once more.

The start.

It was a clear night on Solis, and the full moon hung in the sky like a pearl on a sea of black velvet.

Death sat in a small glade not far from their castle, her bare feet wet from dew and her violin at her side. The others were watched and guarded, but nothing was unbarred to her; she went where she pleased. She stared up pensively, the silence only broken by the wind and a few ambitious nightengales. Death wanted to enjoy the stillness while it lasted. Soon there would be no more time, even for her.

Conquest was inside her stone cell, laying on her front and trying to sleep. It wouldn't come no matter how many sheep she counted, and she knew full well why. The doll she'd found in the aftermath of a battle, from the warping effects of a machine and a mutant was in her hands; she'd meant to be rid of it, but kept it like a dirty secret. It made her feel things she'd long thought she'd buried, and she sighed with something like regret as she tried to get comfortable.

Pestilence was in her own bare cell, but for once not trying to sleep as well. For almost half an hour she'd been struggling to remove her armor under the weak torchlight, and now it was beginning to grow frantic. She'd done this countless times, over and over... But she couldn't get the plates off of her. The straps and buckles had to be undone in a certain order, and she kept failing at it. Her hands fell to her lap as she glanced at the small mirror she'd installed; her expression was frustrated, confused, and scared. It- the blankness, the disorientation- was growing worse, not better.

Famine was in her lead-lined box, her glow dim and unhappy. It had been days since she'd seen the sun or moon; longer still since she'd been able to talk to anyone. Her steady loneliness made her heart ache. She'd always assumed they'd kept her in here because of fear, but after her eyes had been opened, she knew it was because of disgust, too. She missed Earth, she missed having a purpose other than tinkering and fidgeting in the dark.

When the small, slim Xbox 360 chimed, she almost thought she was hallucinating.

Across space, across whole systems of planets, a rip into reality tore open on a black beach, lighting the night and crackling with lightning. The sand underneath turned to glass as Clash stepped through, her sword across her shoulder. She whipped around to excitedly wave as the tear closed up with a sound like an iron door clamming shut; even though she'd known it was coming, saying Goodbye had been one of the hardest things she'd had to do.

But it was time.

Clash blinked up at Earth's own moon, smiling her sharp smile and holding in a joyful yell before she perked up and reached into her pocket for her Shen.

"Nitori? Hi!... Oh, right, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was- tell Komachi I said Hi when she wakes up! I just wanted to let you know I'm back!... Oh, it was amazing. The whole world was beautiful, and Aggie is doing a lot better. Uh huh. Yeah, everyone was really nice. No... She can't come back... I know. It's okay though. She belongs there and then. I'm just going to miss her a lot... But anyway, I'm on Kuwahari now! I'll see you at work tomorrow, right? I can't wait! Okay. Bye! See you really, really soon!"

Clash hung up and started walking towards the lights she could see in the distance; she was cheerful and happy after her vacation, and more hopeful for the future than ever before.

Gloomy spirits.

The inside of the tavern was warm, packed, and noisy. Gerrard shuffled in place and adjusted his coat before sliding into the crowd.

Travel was still common in this part of the world, and so the press was mostly day-laborers, free from their labors. Gerrard received a few confused stares, but amongst humans he hardly noticed anymore. Goat-people weren't a common sight, after all. He had no business with them in any case.

Reaching the bar itself, he slipped into a vacated seat and took the black gloves from his hands, glancing around. There were more than a few suits of armor with bodies inside sitting around him, but not the ones he-

"You must be the Black Goat of the Hub." A voice growled behind him. It was quiet, but purred with the helm's voice like like the smile on the edge of an axe. He slowly turned around, to meet the red eyes of the Lion.

The man's armor was golden, but spiked and chevroned in sweeping, loose plates. It didn't look heavy; when Gerrard up-and-downed him, it flowed with him as he jerked his snarling faceplate toward a corner, heading that way with a light step. Gerrard followed, dipping his head. When they arrived, he noticed the other one for the first time- a gaunt, tall, silent armored man. He briefly nodded to Gerrard's scrutiny.

"First-" said the Lion, before squeezing the flame out of the candle in the center of the table and sitting down. "You put in effort to hunt us down. Who was your contact?"

"Marcella, in the Old Argo beach district. She highly recommended the both of you. It certainly was a chore to find your trail, that much I'll share." Gerrard said, folding his hands and looking between them.

"Mercenary work is easier if you leave once you're paid." Said the taller one dryly. His armor was more subdued, but still obviously powered and actively used. The scars and torn bits of sheared metal hanging off his frame was proof enough of that- much like the Greatsword leaning against the wall behind him.

"Yes, well, speaking of that-"

"You know our terms?" The Lion growled.

"Your job, your play, your fight, your way. So I'd heard." Gerrard said, slightly annoyed at the interruption. "The job itself is-"

"Why do you want a soon-to-be-Kopper dead?"

"Kobber."

"What?" The Lion asked, looking askance at the other.

"They're called Kobbers, after their Bar."

"So be it." He said, flapping his hand distractedly. "Why does a foreigner want some jailhouse bird red and cold?"

"Personal reasons, primarily. Will that be a problem?" Gerrard asked, filching a drink off a passing tray. He sipped before grimacing- why would anyone in their right mind want alcoholic prune juice?

"Your coin spends like any other." They shrugged at the same time.

"In essence, she bares me a personal grudge, as well as the administration I currently am stewarding. You'd think a war would clean up messes, not leave them to stew in their ugly tempers inside a jail." Gerrard said, discreetly pouring the glass on the floor.

"You want the head when we're done?" Osric asked. His helm snarled at Gerrard, and the red glass of his eyes seemed to pierce through him.

"...Please."

"Half up front, half when the job is done. Do we have an accord?" Antonio, the wolf knight inquired, holding his right hand out. Gerrard grasped him by the wrist and firmly pumped the handshake.

"We certainly do. I'll have your money to you by Tommorow morning. Thank you both very much for-"

"Save your gratitude. The work's not done yet." Osric said, standing and pushing away from the table. Antonio got to his feet, creaking like an old man. Only now did Gerrard notice that his left arm was dead; It hung from his shoulder like a piece of meat, even as he hefted up his sword to his pauldron.

"We'll be in touch."

"We'll be watching."

The homefront (With Cornwind)

The scar across his neck and throat was a dull, yet livid purple. It leapt out to Clash's eyes as he discarded his metal armor chestpiece, leaving the leather padding beneath it. After that, he removed some of his leg armor, leaving the knee and shin guards, and snapping off metal coverings for his boots. Clash was no good at age, but even she could tell the man's hair had gone prematurely grey, a grey that matched the steel-like blue of his eyes. Consulting a wall, he eventually removed a broadsword; the weapon still seemed small compared to Clash's massive length of deadly metal.

"Normally, I'd ask you to go through an exercise, but it strikes me that you are moreso a woman of action and learning on your feet. I can do both, fortunately." The somewhat de-armored knight settled into a combat stance. "Let's leave out those auras my niece told me about, just for now. Otherwise, attack me."

"Take him as seriously as you would fighting me, Clash! Heck, more!" Athena said, sitting on the ground nearby, carefully balancing twin buckets of water attached to a rod laid across her shoulders. Even talking made it jiggle, and she sucked air in through her teeth.

"Okay, sure thing! Get ready!" Said Clash, raising her sword and holding it in the ready position. She was dressed in a red t-shirt and black leggings; her hair was in a loose ponytail. She looked more fulfilled, much less the awkward scarecrow she'd once been. The time here with Athena had been everything she'd hoped for and more. Her pupil narrowed as she shifted her hips and swung.

The first blows weren't quick, but they were steady; Clash hammered the gap multiple times before she swung from her opposite side, the length of killing metal hurtling in a black arc. She was putting oomph into her attacks, and with her reach and range, looking to batter the grey knight's defenses. 

She seemed to be doing well for herself...for the first minute or so. He was staggering a bit, the hits being blocked but the impact rattling him.

Then Clash found her blows were not impacting with the same OMMMFFFFPHHH. She was still hitting, but the man's stance and blade were shifting, ever so slightly, blunting the attacks. That continued on for another two minutes.

And then she found she wasn't even hitting at all. Her sword blows were deflected or just avoided entirely, and unlike Aggie, who did dodging with lots of flips and dramatic movements, the older knight barely moved at all. If she didn't see the focus in his eyes, she'd swear she was being toyed with.

It was different than Ko. Ko was also a blade master, but she was all about advance, aggression, close ranks and crack heads. Clash wasn't sure if the man could also blunt Ko's offense if she was here. Maybe. She'd just met Sir William, Knight-Valiant Of The Realms, an hour ago.

"Hmmm. You've been forged by some real battles, I can tell. Yet there's still a lot of excess movement...though you are better at guarding your openings then the average berserker." He barely sounded winded.

That was when Aggie threw the rock at him, even as Clash swung.

William Ward snapped up a hand, grabbing the stone and dropping it even as he deflected Clash's blade into the ground, still with one hand. The man's battle awareness was astonishing; it was pretty clear he'd told Athena at some point to throw the rock on purpose.

"Okay, hold." William said, dropping his sword and rubbing his wrist. "Not as young as I used to be...You hit with immense impact despite your slim frame. How fast do you heal, may I ask?" 

Clash blinked confusedly at Aggie, before she knelt and tugged her sword out of the floor. At the question, she brightened, smiling a sharp smile with her blade across her shoulder. Her blood was a little up, and her eye was bright.

"Thanks! You're pretty fast- that's neat! I heal quick." She glanced at the arm holding her sword; the surgical scars running across her had faded to nothing but marks. She mostly just wore her eyepatch for the look. "Minor wounds don't really bother me, and whatever doesn't kill me, I can usually fight through. I actually think I heal better if I'm fighting a lot..."

"My sword heals too, actually. All it takes is a night, and then- poof! Good as new!" She said, holding out the blade one-handed and smiling fondly at it. "I never get sick, either. I just burn it out, the same with a poison or a curse." 

"So. Modification." William said.

"From birth. Like, total birth."

"I see." William said. "All right then. Athena, something to restore her vigor, could you please?"

"Yes sir." Athena headed over to a chest and began poking around. William winced, and caught himself before he stumbled.

"Clash? Can you come over here, please?" Athena said, fishing some mushrooms out of a bag when the girl did so. "You need to chew these thoroughly."

Athena lowered her voice. Clash was vaguely aware that the older man was putting his armor back on.

"He's cursed. He can't take his armor off for long without starting to get sick and weak. He wanted to be a knight, and well...that was the downside to getting to be one. And as he's gotten older, it's gotten worse. Just so you know." 

"Oh... Oh. That's awful, I'm sorry." Clash muttered, in between bites of mushroom. She smiled at Aggie before turning back and holding her sword at her side, waiting for Sir William to re-armor himself. While he did, she jangled her chain and then looked up, less excited and more grave.

"Uh... Yeah, I was engineered for War. They used magic and science to make me a killing machine. I think I was really good at it... But anyway, my Aura is only the most obvious part of all that. You can probably see, but all my actual training was either by myself or patchwork from others. I'm not a berserker, though! Uhm... Most of the time. When my blood starts boiling it gets hard not to break everybody, but that hasn't happened in awhile."

"...Disgusting. Er, not you, young lady. Just such a process. Ignore this old man, he has his ways and likes them dearly, and I don't like the sound of that. Process. If only because it snarls potential. Why be a machine of death when you can be akin to a force of nature? Anyone with a blade can butcher meat. But no matter, no matter. I just need to get a full measure of how you act if I'm going to give you some lessons. Where you are strong and where you may be weak. Now then...attack me again. All out. Like I'm your mortal enemy. You hate me."

William closed the helmet, sliding some metal into place.

"In the Honorbound garb, I can endure it. And I will not tire. I need to see when you reach a level where even you cannot fight any more. Even if it lasts into the next sunrise."

"He ain't kidding. I fought him for two hours straight and literally keeled over, unable to move. He didn't even seem to break a sweat. Though that's also due to this place being his turf. It's set up for this sort of stuff. If you two walked down the road a mile, things would be different, but that's training for later."

"Athena. Grip strength training."

"Yes, sir." Athena headed over to a set of bars and began doing a salmon ladder routine. 

"If that's what it takes, then I'm ready! We might be here awhile, but I'm ready!" Clash said, delighted. She gripped her sword and gathered herself before coming in like a wave, her enormous blade a bolt of lightning as it cracked and snarled against it's opposite's metal. She kept her aura from activating, but still attacked ferociously.

She would never be truly quick; Her sword was too much to move fast, other than in swings. But her stamina and her dexterity with the blade made up for it, as she chained together blows, switching in thrusts and overhead chops when she needed to. She stabbed, the tip of her sword slapping the ground before she hauled it up hard with her shoulders.

Clash attacked and blocked, circled and fought; she whirled on her heel and brought her sword through with bone-crushing force, hard enough to rattle the weapons on the walls. She threw out a pommel strike and then reversed her grip, the black sword swinging like a pendulum before she brought it down again.

Later, after many more blows and cracks in the floor, her eye was glowing; around her, it was warmer. Brief flashes of fire backlit her throat, and she was sweating. She was still unbowed; her breathing was heavier, but her shoulders were still pert, and she didn't seem tired at all.

"-All-out All-out?!" She asked excitedly, the air around her crackling like baking tinfoil. 

"...yes."

"UH oh." Aggie said. Even SHE was uncertain if her uncle could handle this. Maybe if he was ten years younger...

Better get some sleeping gas just in case. 

Clash's aura sprang to life, the angry red energy flowing around her knees in a large circle and bathing her in it's light. Her sword burst into roiling flames, the tongues of fire crawling up it's edges. The light of her own internal flames made her look almost demonic, even as she braced herself.

"Okay!"

The chain rattled and shivered as the blade grew great and bigger; Clash hefted the burning sword up, her grin huge.

"OKAY!"

The impact of the first blow made the walls shake, not just the weapons. Clash wielded her sword the same even at it's larger size, and threw out strike after strike that would've cleaved through houses. Cuts from retaliatory wounds bubbled and hissed, the blood sizzling in droplets along the ground; Clash swung, her aura burning before her sword grew sharper. Sharper and more on fire. 

...To his credit, the Knight-Valiant held out for another twenty minutes before his sword broke. The next slash sent cleaved metal flying.

"CLASH STOP! DONE! ABORT! ABORT!" 

"...interesting...disable...makeup..." William said on the ground. 

"HAAAAAAAAAA- oh! Sorry! Okay! Sorry!" Clash said frantically, her aura sizzling off like a grill shut down; Her sword shattered down to it's normal size, although her eye kept glowing. "I'm in check, I'm in check! I just... You're so good at this, Sir. I just wanted to tire myself out faster... are you okay?"

"I guess you can... Uhm, see the point where I start to lose it. The longer I go full power, the harder it is to turn off..." 

"You cut through my armor. That has not happened in...a considerable amount of time." The old knight was back on his feet swiftly and without effort. "So, that is what happens if you invoke power."

"...One can work with this. You should probably also go see Valse, spend a few weeks with him, but not yet. There's immense potential in you, and I want to draw it out. I'm getting too old to venture out and save the world any more. So the more I can make other people do it...

"You talk about being a killer, but it is not difficult to make an opponent fear death. I would like to make your opponent fear YOU. Because in some ways, the greatest victories are the ones where no one fights.

"But, I can see you wouldn't much care for that, so...I'll also teach you the very best ways I know to introduce someone to a blade until they stop being an issue."Ino 

"How long do you think that will take, sir?"

"...eight months? Fourteen if we take a more relaxed pace..."

"Well Clash, it's up to you. I have noticed you can get a little antsy, but I'm telling you its worth it. You think I'm a half-decent swordswoman, I just got three months of training with him."

How things change. Clash suspected three years ago, had she managed to actually knock down a supposedly invincible warrior, it would have prompted rather...negative reactions. Here, she was being offered lessons on how to knock him down even easier. And she suspected that if he HAD reacted that way, Athena would have sided with her and dropped the obedient respect she showed. Though him reacting that way said a lot why she showed him such deference. 

"I'd be honored! I want to learn whatever you'll teach me." Clash said eagerly, still feeling a little guilty for unloading on Sir William. "I need all the training I can get. I mean, I do okay with what I have-" she grinned. Her eye flicked to Aggie. "But I could be better, and I need to be. I'm really grateful just for all this..."

"I love killing, but I don't want to just clear the fields. I want to make a real difference! The others- The ones I'm going to be fighting have way more experience and skill than me. I think that if I can't beat them, then I won't be able to free them." Clash said, wiping her face with her shirt's hem.

"I don't know about saving the world, but I know I want to try and do some good. Especially if I get to fight enemies!"

"When can we start? Or are we going to keep fighting? I'm ready!" She said, happily raising her sword again. 

"Ah...enough for today. These old bones can't go on and on like they used to..."

"UH oh." Aggie said.

"Tomorrow, I think we'll just test your general endurance limits."

"...Hope you like running in mud with your legs chained together, Clash."

"And you can join her for some refresher courses, Athena."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

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

"I double-checked just to be sure, Clash, but...yeah. I can't go back with you. Even if I hadn't ruffled so many feathers...I'm being watched like a hawk, AND well...going back would be testing my luck, our luck, in a lot of ways. Gambling was never my strong suit.

"But, I didn't spend all the time you were being trained idle. I might have hit my limits when it comes to magical learning, but fortunately, you don't need a spark to make an Emotion Engine. Just the will, and the way."

Aggie produced a large box with a smile...which she tried to open dramatically.

Which failed. The lock was stuck.

"...AND THE WAY."

Second try, same as the first try, Aggie spent a minute struggling with the box before she finally slammed it down on a table, finally popping the semi-stuck mechanism open.

"I swear if it's empty...no, good."

Inside were two items. A metallic black gauntlet, and what appeared to be some kind of metal box that was slightly smaller.

"I didn't name it. You can. Try the gauntlet on. Should fit near perfectly." Athena said. "Your whole fighting style is big, wide, sweeping...the gauntlet will help you out a bit if someone somehow gets right up in your face and your aura isn't enough, whatever rare chance THAT might happen. You can use it to block. And smash someone across the face if need be. It's pretty tough...might not hold up to something like Pteron biting down on it as hard as he could, but still, pretty tough.

"And this, is for any time that you want to hit something and for whatever reason running up and introducing them to your sword isn't an immediate good idea."

Athena slapped the boxy object on top of the gauntlet, and it unfolded like a flower, pieces snapping into place to unfold into a mini-crossbow.

"Only has four shots, but it self-loads and turns any metal put on it into ammo. Like, normal metal. I wouldn't fool around with fancy stuff, might break it. Fire by flexing your wrist down. It has a LITTLE course correction, but only a little. Nice sharp little bolts, has a range of about eighty yards, pierces through some armors...it doesn't hit with much impact though. Consider it jabbing someone with the end of your sword from very far away. And trust me. Very few things can just ignore you shoving something pointy into their eye. Or throat. Or genitals." 

"Aw... I know, I guess I just hoped something would magically happen and it would be okay." Clash said wanly. "Last year was really special for me, and you were a big part of that. I know some of the good was because neither one of us really knew what we were getting into, but... I don't know, I just wish you weren't right..." She frowned.

When Aggie pulled out her labors, it was like someone had flipped a switch; Clash smiled wide before she gasped with joy and slipped the gauntlet on. She clenched her fist and then waved her fingers while her eye widened.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!! Oh my-" she gasped, delighted. No one knew her better than Aggie. Carrying and using a shield would've been cumbersome and off-balanced her, as well as actually making her less lethal; Aggie had given her one that took nothing from her- if anything, just made her more dangerous.

Slotting the box-bow onto the gauntlet, she sighted and aimed at the wall, before turning it and looking down at the sharp metal points. They mirrored her happy smile. The idea of utility and suddenly having options other than Sword Them To Death nearly made her giddy.

Undocking the crossbow, she reached out hugged Aggie tightly. There were many layers to it; Being grateful for the gifts, thankful that Aggie was her best friend, happiness that she'd come so far, and an undertone of sadness she pushed down again, as she had every time she realized it was getting closer and closer for her to leave.

She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Thank you, Aggie! You're, you're really the best. No, no, no- what's better then the best? THAT'S you!" She crowed, smiling down at her and glancing at the gauntlet again, like a kid with a new toy. When she let go, she looked pensive.

"I mean it, though. You're the best sister I could've ever asked for. I love you!" She said, grabbing her sword and hefting it up, admiring the play of light on the armor's surface. "I can't wait to punch some evil jerks right in their dumb faces!" 

"I'd say the same, but then Sunny and Cypress would complain. So, uh...you're in good company? Grand company, really." Athena said. "Though that reminds me...

"Once you get back, the processes will have been finalized...you'll be adopted into the family. Just in case you needed any more motivation. But don't let that stop you from making any new friends. Or taking any risks. That ain't you, and a Clash that ain't Clash is...I don't know. Clsh? That sounds suitably weird.

"Whatever happens, this will always be your home, if you want it to be."

Clash hugged her again; Everything she wanted to say was caught in her throat, so she just did the best she could.

Ironclad

It wasn't the noises that worried them.

Since she'd moved into her room on the ground floor (The closest to the empty stables) Jack had stayed inside it with the door closed, the only thing emerging the sounds of metal being hammered and wrenched, power tools being used, and every now and then, black streaks of cursing. She'd come down for most dinners, but she was quiet and withdrawn, almost standoffish sometimes, picking apart her food before excusing herself quickly.

Inshabel had asked them all to give her time, but Ino's curiously had gotten the better of her. Peering through Jack's keyhole, she could only see her back, not all the cases and crates she'd dolly-lifted into her room. She was hammering something... Ino knew she had power armor, but she wanted to see it.

She absent-mindedly tried the copper doorknob, and then looked shocked when it clicked and the door opened. She braced and flashed toward Jack, but she continued her work, not even looking around. Ino hesitantly walked into the room, eyeing the open boxes and tools scattered on the carpet.

"Hello!... How are you this day?" She asked brightly. Jack continued to hammer the metal in front of her on her work-table, part of a big metal arm from what Ino could see. She didn't respond, or even act as though she'd heard her.

Ino frowned and walked closer, craning her head over Jack's shoulder. "Is that your-"

Jack jumped in her seat and whirled around, her teeth clenched and anger in her eyes. Ino jerked back and put her hands up in front of her, before Jack winced and shook her head hurriedly. She waved around at Ino before jerking her thumb toward herself, running her hand over her right ear. A slim piece of metal curled around the outside, before it dipped into her ear canal and into her head.

"Sorry. I didn't have my hearing on. You spooked me, that was all." She said, looking at Ino and not smiling. Her voice was rough, almost like she was hoarse from yelling. "...Is it time for supper? I'm not hungry. Thanks, though."

"Oh, ah, no. I was just wondering, well... What are you doing?" Ino asked hesitantly. Her eye shot from the arm, to Jack, to the arm, and back again before she smiled. Jack didn't return it.

"Fixing problems before they happen. Last time I maintained my gear was before I got took down." Jack said, picking her ball-peen hammer back in hand. "Haven't got a chance to do any upkeep on it since. Sorry for the noise, I'll try and work quieter."

With that, she turned and went back to work. Ino paused before sitting down next to her, eyeing the skeleton of a big metal arm that Jack was forcing back into perfect shape. The other woman side-eyed her, but said nothing else.

"So... What was Jail like? Did you acquire a gang tattoo?" Ino asked, soldiering on.

"It was a low fucking point. It was awful." Jack said roughly, glancing at Ino's unhappy frown. "...It was bad, but parts were good for me. I had a lot of time to think. They had these enrichment classes you could do. You ever been to camp? Like those. I learned to read better. They set my hearing aid up, too. The other inmates were mostly what made it a shithole."

"Did they not like you?"

"I don't know. Probably not. It was more, when you got a pack of cigarettes and a nine foot tall, four armed lizard person that weighs five of you snatches them, what're you going to do, punch her?...That was what I did. That scaly bitch broke four of my ribs." Jack grunted, putting down the section of forearm she was working on. "...hand me my spanner, would you?"

Ino looked around, before slowly picking up a screwdriver and giving it to Jack. She looked down before looking at Ino. "No, the spanner."

Ino gave her some solder.

"A spanner is a wrench... Here. This thing." Jack said, showing it to her before loosening some bolts.

"Oh, I see...You're from Solis, like Inshabel?" Ino asked, picking up the screwdriver and examining it doubtfully.

"Yeah. A different part, though. The Eastmarch is as Far East as you can go before mountains stop you. My corner was a mining town. Mom was a blacksmith, dad died in a cave-in when I was young. My mom taught me the trade, taught me a little about engineering and all that. Things were good." Jack trailed off, eyeing the hand of her armor. The middle finger kept squeaking...

"What happened?" Ino asked. She wouldn't have, but Jack looked too angry and sad to not want to talk about it.

"Shit got bad, and shit went worse. You know exactly what I mean." She said, her green-blue eyes holding Ino's red one and measuring her. "I wasn't born deaf, let's put it that way. But that time was like Jail, too. It was real fucking dark, but I made this-" she waved her hand over her pieces and parts-"-out of it. Because of it."

"I'm sorry..." Ino murmured. She would've hugged Jack, but she almost felt that would be a bad idea. So instead-

"I, well, if you wouldn't mind... What does your armor look like? Can I see it? Please?"

She'd guessed right; Jack turned to her with real surprise, before she actually smiled for the first time Ino had seen. "You really want to?"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Ino said excitedly. Jack looked around, her smile fading.

"Give me a few minutes to gather it up. I guess I can work the kinks out afterward..."

Even standing there, only on and active, the armor rumbled. It was a low feeling, more vibration than sound, but when Jack moved, it momentarily rose. She lifted her shield and hit the edge hard to her chest, nodding in satisfaction at the solid metal knock it made. She finally felt like she was at home.

"Guess it's-" Jack started, putting her shield down.

"Who's driving a f*cking truck inside?!" Trace yelled from the attic. Jack met Ino's eye and covered her mouth with her gauntlet, before they were both chuckling.

Interview with a Maid.

The hotel felt different than what she'd expected.

It was likely due to visiting the King of Beasts before she'd seen any of Earth's other vacation homes, but to Inshabel it seemed small, almost too ordinary. The Hotel in Vegas had been a lit tower filled to the brim with excitement, fun, flash and goodwill. To Inshabel, the King of Beasts had from the first given her a feeling of movement, of activity, as though the seams of the building were bursting with the order of warriors it housed and protected.

The Mariott was nice, of course, but it was a cut and dried pleasantness. A banality. Everyone currently moving to and fro across the entranceway had places to go, people to see. As was her way, few of them noticed the quiet, tired-looking woman who shuffled out of a Women's restroom in her very finest dress, bonnet, and shawl. The threads were barely bare, and there were no obvious holes or patches in her outfit; the abundance of black was broken by white lacing and gold filigree, and the wedges she'd borrowed from Wren clicked unseen under her hemline across the tile towards the front desk.

She'd have looked very sinister, if not for her kind eyes and hesitant, unsure smile. The picnic basket she had slung under her arm also broke up her storm cloud ensemble. Although she didn't mind her usual shabbiness, she had to put her best foot forward.

"Good afternoon, Miss." She said to the clerk, before taking out a piece of paper from the top of the basket. "Would you be so kind as-"

The woman held up a finger, her eyes far away; As she continued her phone call, Inshabel demurred, lowering her eyes and crossing her hands- holding her basket- at her waist. The other woman wrote something down before hanging up, looking back at Inshabel with the mask people who worked in customer service could summon in an instant.

"Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so, Miss. I was asked to be present for an appointment? I have an interview scheduled in room 507." She'd memorized the number. "Would you be so kind as to call ahead and inform them I've arrived?"

"Sure thing." Said the clerk, picking her phone back up. The mask slipped for a moment, and Inshabel saw weariness around her eyes. As she confirmed that the woman wearing Evil Grandmother clothing was expected, Inshabel reached into her basket and gently placed something small and wrapped in wax paper the color of milk and coffee onto her desk.

"Alright, they're expecting you, Miss Grey. Go on up- what's this?"

"A present. Thank you very much for your help- I do hope the rest of your day will be pleasant." Inshabel said, smiling and dipping to the woman before making her way to the stairwell. Elevators made her nervous. She missed the desk worker opening up her package and looking down at the homemade cookie in faint surprise.

When she finally reached the conference room, Inshabel adjusted her bonnet and gripped the basket tighter to keep her hands from rattling. She couldn't believe how nervous she was; for the first time in a long while, she was going to be judged on her own merits for something new, not critiqued on something she'd done or created. It was a very different feeling to know that she herself was on trial, not her efforts or her output. Taking a quiet breath, she knocked politely on the door before opening it and looking in.

Men and women looked up; they were in suits or power-outfits, put together, tailored and polished. Inshabel felt like a hen before parrots before one of them checked his clipboard and adjusted his glasses.

"Mrs. Grey?"

"Miss, sir, but yes. Good afternoon. Thank you." She said, closing the door behind her before taking the offered chair. The table was round, and the curtains were drawn; Inshabel was glad she'd not be tempted to search the view for an escape route. She covered her wood hands with her sleeves and smiled gently around her. The only thing that she had no answers for was a small camera-being sitting in the corner and watching them for... Whatever reason. She smiled at it too.

They introduced themselves, one by one; the Board of directors for Kuwahawi, the head of their legal team, the Corporation's high and mighty. She curtsied and clasped hands with them all, meeting their eyes and making sure they marked her.

"Before we get started- what's in the basket?"

Inshabel had spent days baking; though it might not have been relevant or important for the job she was aiming for, it still always helped to fudge the odds just a smidge.

"Oh, a little baking- it's one of my very favorite hobbies. I whipped up a batch of chocolate cookies, crumbling them and mixing them with graham cracker cake batter and marshmallow fluff. Then, I used the mixture to make muffins, before powering them with brown sugar... I call them S'muffins. S'more, ehem, muffins, you see." She said, sending her basket around the table. She felt a little foolish for having made twenty-four when there were eight people total in the room.

They asked her questions, then; she folded her hands and kept serenity in her eyes.

"So, tell us a little about yourself. Are you from Earth?" Asked Richmond, the chief financial officer.

"No, sir. I come from a planet called Solis, in the Sonon system. More specifically, I hail from Old Argo, a city state. Have any of you been to Boston? The two are similar in experience."

"Oh, was Old Argo a harbor?"

"A part of it was, yes- The city itself filled it's borders, but the west bordered Ocean and the north Mountains. It was very much a port of safe harbor whether your feet were dry or wet, really. It was a dreary sort of place, but not without it's charms and cheer. There was gray all over... The sky, the water, the buildings. Sometimes I swore even the people. Well-" She made an acknowledging sort of gesture at her joke. "But it was home, and it was quaint. I was raised by my grandmother, in a stone shack upon a hill. My parents were fisherfolk, but they were taken too soon, by the sea in my infancy."

"In any case-" She proceeded hurriedly, to fill the beat of silence."-with a new mouth to feed, My grandmother returned to her housekeeping duties, where she also saw to my own upbringing. I learned all manner of things, and my first job was at the age of fourteen." Inshabel took another piece of paper out of her basket; This was an old, brittle piece, the words scored in by quill and affirming that she'd been hired by the Lazing Selkie tavern years ago.

"I'd rather thought you all would appreciate proof of my resume's claims, rather than only having my word to stock by."

"Speaking of that- your resume mentioned you'd run estates before?" Clines asked, adjusting her glasses.

"Yes, Miss. My first was the Bluebrook youth scholam, where I worked first as an administrator before becoming Headmistress. At the start, perhaps thirty children attended. Teachers were routinely hired for showing up, educational standards were at a minimum, and the building itself was dilapidated. At one point we kept a bathroom constantly locked, due to a family of weasels denning inside. Following a period of four years, I renovated the grounds, hired a competent staff, increased attendance to over a hundred children, and made sure they received a proper education."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, my, yes. That experience remains one of my greatest joys." Inshabel said cheerfully. She still everything the kids had ever made her- pictures, and painted rocks, and bracelets beaded with pasta- in a drawer in her study. "Following that, I left Solis to restore and maintain the Edgaborough estates...."

It continued in this fashion, she recounting her work experience- not all of it, only the most relevant and impressive examples- before she hit the first hurdle. Richmond peered at her work papers before saying "There seem to be a gap in your employment history, about... three years, between Edgaborough and your stewarding the Lyle mansion."

"Ah. Yes, circumstances beyond my control forced my retreat to a safer part of the country. Sonon was not like Solis; Wars sprang up like brushfires, and Edgaborough was burnt to the ground by a border patrol. I and a juniour housekeeper were able to escape, but I do not believe anyone else was as fortunate..."

It was a lie, but the truth wasn't for them. How could she tell these buttoned-down people that Old Man Edgaborough had been insane? That he had vanished one day into the woods, raving about eyes and teeth and fingers in the dark? If only he'd been the only one. The nearby village had hidden more than skeletons in the closet. Men in robes had murdered her staff in the dark of a new moon, and attempted to open a gateway somewhere horrible by sacrificing that same juniour housekeeper...

Inshabel had rescue her and torched the cultists inside the house; The last time she'd seen her, the young maid had been sitting at her kitchen table for breakfast. Ino loved waffles, now, after having them in Vegas.

And finally...

"So- We have many candidates for this position, Miss Grey. Some of them, I won't lie to you, have more of the traditional qualities we're looking for. Why should we hire you?"

Inshabel folded her hands in front of her and gathered her resolve.

"To put it simply, because I will not let you down. I hold myself to exacting standards, and have never shied away from hard work. I am capable, resourceful, trustworthy, and I excel at taking care to ensure everyone under my charge is indomitably satisfied. I know when to delegate, and when to take the reigns; When to be hard, and when to be flexible. I care very much for the Kobbers, and very much for whatever place they call home. I would very, very much like to be an active part of that. My experience and skills may not be traditional, but I promise, they will prove more than satisfactory."

There were some more questions, but now Inshabel had relaxed; She'd done the best she could. Richmond walked her to the hotel lobby, where they shook hands for the final time.

"We have a few more candidates to interview, but you'll be hearing from us in a few days."

"Thank you very much for having me, sir. I look forward to it." She said, dipping and smiling at his back as he walked away. Before she left back through the bathroom door, she put the rest of her cookies on the front desk.