Fandom Soul Eater: F.A.T.E

[Sir Les Paul]

Toshiyuki​

Species Kitsune
Partner N/A
Rank Two-Star

Location Tsuyama City, Okayama Prefecture, Japan
Mission Still Air Rises
Status Entertained

​

Tags: Prizzy Kriyze Mqueserasera

Explosions echoed in the distant night.

Luckily, they were a familiar sound. Their volume, pressure, the crackling burn that permeated the air briefly after them. They were signature spell of Toshiyuki: Foxfire. It meant he was nearby. Like rain following thunder on a cloudy sky, Toshiyuki was soon in sight coming their way from the east down the same road they came from. Following his flight were more and more of those red-white explosions of flame and heat, each one fading into the visage of a cackling fox. Each one capable of obliterating a shadow-creature on their own, much like the efforts of Sakumo.

Unlike the more concerned, bordering-on-panicked duos, Toshiyuki was having an absolute blast with the creatures. He had no lamp posts to protect him, but he didn't really need them. His primary element was fire and it generated plenty of light. Not only that, he had the ability to fly via flames on his ankles, wrists, and a wreath of fire around his torso. He could jet through the sky or float around with the whimsy of a fairy. Between his increased mobility and throwing fox-themed fireballs like a wizard with cantrips, the near infinite army of shadows was--at least for a while--little more than indefinite target practice.

That likely would have remained the case while he tried to hold off the remaining shadows at the baseball field, but the problem became that more and more shadows started to appear. No matter how many he destroyed, a core creature--much like the one the duos had cornered in the pharmacy--would simply split off to create more. Two of these master shadows became four then six then eight, which was where he was now. He might have been having fun, but he wasn't stupid. He would eventually exhaust his mana and he couldn't quite make it to those master shadows, so it was time to reconvene. Just unfortunate that Hisoka and Sakumo had yet to deal with their single master spirit.

The flying fox jet over to his partners, interrupting before Hisoka even had the chance to answer.

"It turns out, guys, that these things have friends that have friends that have friends. And, by that, I mean there happens to be way more than one big shadow--like the one you chased," Toshiyuki told them, his tone energetic and smooth, flowing from word to word quickly. It was almost childlike, as if excited about the mundane. Except there was nothing mundane about this.

Toshiyuki was himself interrupted by a shadow attempting to make a swipe at Sakumo in his more rested position. This is where another quirk of the Kitsune arose. While true he was not near their speed, his tails were. This shadow was felled by one of the three flaming tails that spurted from his backside, wrapping around it in full, causing it to disperse before any real damage could be done. In a contest of speed, Hisoka was probably the fastest among them, but those tails Toshiyuki possessed each had a will of their own. They would defend him (or his allies) even when he was aloof. In a way, one might argue that they were smarter than he was.

"Well that was rude... I was talking," he spat, acknowledging the attack from the shadow. He exhaled in distaste.

"So, uh, the big guys belch out the smaller ones if you blow them up. I don't know if it works the same for yours, but I bet it does. So, here in a moment, we're probably gonna get swarmed," Toshiyuki told them, somehow speed up his already fast speech. Also, somehow managing to gloss over the news. If that first shadow that they cornered had twelve smaller ones and there were about to be eight larger ones, that meant in total the group was going to be fighting over a hundred smaller shadows simultaneously.

They weren't exactly doing well with just that twelve. They didn't know if there was a hard limit or if these things possessed any other abilities. The whole shadow belching out other shadow thing was an entirely unique facet of these creatures.

With that said, Toshiyuki conjured two floating balls of light, cradling them in his hand. He then pulled them to his face, himself also leaning in as he whispered softly to the balls of light, 'Come out from the cave, Beautiful Goddess of the Sun...'

They ignited in front of his face, fire dancing before his crimson eyes and casting shadows on his lesser features. He then smirked. The kitsune twisted around his hand so that each flaming sphere was now directed to his teammates, then flung them with a flick of his wrist. Each sphere shot over to the respective Demon Weapon of his partners. Hana and Ouka were now imbued with the flaming power of the sun, such was the spell Toshiyuki cast. His magic was somewhat enigmatic as he could cast a variety of spells depending on the God he prayed to--always of Japanese Shintoism. Such made no practical sense as the Kitsune were allegedly associated with Inari, but beyond that, magic was no longer steeped in superstition. Still, he prayed and through magic, those prayers were answered.

The entire length of Hana's blade was lit aflame as if doused in alcohol and ignited. Similarly, the upper half of Ouka as a Gohei was ignited, burning evenly and with an intense yellow flame. The two resembled a golden glow more than an outright burn, and said flame and heat didn't seem to affect either Meister. Magic now coursed through each one, not exactly a foreign feeling as this type of support style spell was something Toshiyuki used more often than not. His foxfire couldn't solve all of his problems, after all.

"That should let you hit them," Toshiyuki told them, "it's the same flames I used to blow them up." Without a moment to spare, either, as the horde of incoming shadows was only a block or so down the road. Meanwhile, the original one they were present for remained still inside the pharmacy.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Sara & Dante​

Lot C, Death City, Nevada
September 23, 2067

Collab with Pumpkid

Training the Asshole

Fortunately or unfortunately for Dante, Sara had a place in mind and kept pulling on him to either hurry him up or make sure he was following her. It didn’t take long to reach the place, as she would let go and do some parkour maneuvers to get over fences and such, looking back to see if Dante could do the same. Dante seemed to have the skill, but was a bit rusty, so she helped him, grabbing his hand or arm and making sure he didn’t fall flat on his face or trip trying to scale a fence.

It was fun, doing something like this before they even got to train together. It was a sort of bonding exercise that Sara adored doing, so she hoped that Dante was okay with it.

Eventually, they finally made it to Lot C, the infamous Lot where she started her Fate days here. The lot was huge, about a football field in length with trimmed grass, trees bordering the area around it with the facility separated by a stone wall. It was huge, good for practice in weapon fighting, they were relatively alone, it was a beautiful day, and they had trees as obstacles to flit through and beat up.

Sara then turned to Dante, hands on her hips. “This is the Lot where I debuted in the Fate program with my former weapon partner, along with a bunch of other people. It’s also a great training spot, and you won’t get performance anxiety.” She giggled, teasing him with an obviously sarcastic tone. “Anyway, your weapon form.” She said excitedly, bouncing on the toes of her feet as she braced for it.

Dante’s eyes marvel at the space chosen for training. He wasn't really planning on going through with it as he needed time to mentally prepare, but it seems Sara has other plans. Too eager to start. The best thing he can do is at least procrastinate for the moment. “If that’s the case, maybe working here won't be a great idea. I might just end up leaving too.” He chuckled. Dante shoots Sara a glare at the mention of his insecurity. Frankly, it’s annoying how perceptive the wolf-girl is. He makes a pause gesture, shoving his hand close to her face. “First of all, I need to know about that emotion smelling thing. Can you control it? Cause I don't appreciate you literally sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. It’s cramping my style.”

Sara looked mock offended as he tried to procrastinate. How dare he. But his next question when she got a finger on her face had her snickering as she tried to duck out of the way of the finger. “Yeah, I can control it. I can't smell performance anxiety though, that's just something I noticed with my eyes. I turned off my soul nose right after we left the vista.” She smiled, unsure how well received this would go, but figured she should make a deal with him since he found it so uncomfortable. “Okay, okay, since you don't like how nosy I get, I will do my best not to turn it on to smell your soul. I will ask you instead. How's that sound?”

At least she was baller at compromising, until she tried to tie it in with something else. “Now, I will only do this for you if you transform for me soon, like in the next few minutes, because I know you're procrastinating.” She grinned. Playful manipulation, she was sure Dante would refute and have another funny reaction. “Now, if you need some time to get ready, I can definitely give that to you, but don't you think you can just run away.” She then added a creepy lilt to her voice. “I will always find you~.” She giggled, then shook her head and hands, dispelling the joke. “Okay, no, that's too creepy, even for me.”

”Yeah that’s a bit much.” He agreed. ”You sound like a psycho who wants to keep their victim hostage.”

It's flustering to learn Sara can read Dante without their senses. Was he carrying himself so obviously? If he were in front of others, it would have certainly damaged his ego. He’s tried so hard to seem tough meanwhile, a shrimp like Sara could tell right off the bat. Perhaps it was her experience with dealing with a difficult person? It’s infuriating to attempt to make sense of it all. He simply wanted a peace of mind. He can tolerate people butting in on a physical level, but his mind can only take so much invasiveness.

Sara offered an olive branch, one at the price of shifting to his weapon form. It’s a big ask for someone like Dante. The idea still hasn't kicked in. It’s hard for him to nail it through his brain that this is the big one. The time for him to hang up all of his trauma and lean on someone else. Dante grits his teeth struggling to accept her condition. ”You are a cheeky little shrimp.” He growled. “For your information, I’m not stalling. I just want to set some ground rules before we start.” He removes his shades revealing his mint, green eyes. “Second, I don't have “anxiety”. I can transform whenever the hell I please. I’m a badass weapon. One you don't deserve, not with your smartass behavior.” Dante steps away from Sara enough to leave a gap between them. ”And you feel the same otherwise, I’ll prove it to you once and for all.”

In a flash, Dante shape-shifts into twin-headed Halberd. A five foot long, onyx colored pole with silver blades curved more like a trident than an ax. Lastly, a sharp spear tip in the center of it. Dante grins proudly. “So what do you think? Didn't I tell ya I’m awesome?”

It wasn’t that Sara can’t read people without her nose, she could read people perfectly fine. She can tell she was flustering him, try as he might to hide it. This was why she did this with no one here. She didn’t want to make him feel worse in their partnership. Some secrets must lay bare when in a partnership like this, but it required progress. Mainly because they would be in each other’s heads at some point, and she had to let him know it was okay if she knew a few things about him. But baby steps.

She chuckled nervously when Dante agreed with her response, cringing internally at herself. That was pretty embarrassing. Especially considering when she was in the dating scene, she was accused of stalking her partners, when in actuality her friends kept feeding her information on where her partners went and - because of how transparent she was with them - she let slip she knew where they were and they left her for it. She didn’t want to be known for that again.

She listened as Dante said his frustrations, and his attempt at saying he didn’t have anxiety. She smirked when he showed off his form though, getting what she wanted. When the light dispersed, the smug smirk quickly melted to one of awe. Eyes widened, she covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

Dante asked if he was awesome; she felt drawn to his weapon form. Taking a few steps forward, she was gazing at him as if she found treasure for the first time in her life. “You’re absolutely perfect…” She whispered, as if no words with any amount of gusto could properly describe what she was feeling. She was going back to having a pole weapon, but this time with sharp edges. It was her preferred weapon. She was about to touch, but flinched back, afraid she’d hurt him or herself from provoking him.

“May I? Please?” Her eyes misted up, her werewolf ears laying back, tail curled, hand poised to grab but frustratingly not close enough to even graze upon the handle. Her voice was fragile as she asked.

Normally, meisters treated their weapons like property in and out of their weapon forms, and a couple of the well known 3-Stars were no different. Sara, on the other hand, still treated them like people because they were. Beyond her playful interactions with Dante, she wanted to convey she held deep respect for weapons, and thus wouldn’t actually touch him unless he willed it. They were the weapons which could save hers and another’s life, and it was the meister’s responsibility to make sure the weapons were cared for and treated with the respect they deserved. While meisters were seen as heroes, they could never achieve their heroic acts without their weapons. They were nothing without them, the same way a weapon was nothing without a meister, or was considered inferior when they tried to be autonomous, them trying was the most difficult challenge anyone could ever achieve. And they deserved respect just as much as the next person, maybe if not more.

Dante realized he changed out of his own volition. It was as if reverse psychology had been used, and like the fool he is, fell for it. What threw him off was the fact Sara did indeed find his appearance amazing. Furthermore, asked to be held. He was certain she would jump at the chance given her eccentric personality. The question was like a loaded gun. Dante couldn't make up his mind, yet by the look in Sara’s face, she was trying her damndest from pouncing him. He recalls what she said about healing themselves. There would be no point in a partnership if he cannot cooperate, and Dante isn't one to lose his benefits, yet the fear continues to prod him like a bad idea.

There is a long pause, longer than anticipated. The sounds of the city, the wind and rustling filled the atmosphere. They were soothing sounds to Dante. The stillness gave him peace of mind. ”Sure.” He said. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice probably made him unconvincing, but really he was nervous as he is willing to try his hand at a new partnership. He closes his eyes and keeps the memory of Rory as if apologizing.

She was allowed. Emotions overwhelmed her, so she tried to still her emotions when she grabbed the handle. A sound mind and a sound body makes a sound soul, and right now, she didn’t want her overwhelming emotions to rock the boat. She stayed like this, eyes closing as she held him with one hand, letting their wavelengths dance near each other, letting the opposing side pull the wavelength in, establishing a connection.

However, she felt a slight problem. It wasn’t exactly an old memory, but it was a similar feeling. Like an old attachment. He must have lost his previous partner, like how Eva lost hers, but thankfully Dante’s soul wasn’t distorted to high heaven. She sighed deeply, drawing closer as she picked him up slowly, both hands gripping him tightly now. The weight was manageable, but not light. For as long as Dante’s soul held Rory’s memory like a vice and brought it with him to this resonance, the harder it would be to resonate.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, soft. As if afraid she’d be overheard by anyone else, and considering their connection was the most minimal of minimal, she couldn’t speak to him through their soul space because the connection was weak. Despite her shallow breath, misty tears, and quiet, soft tone, her voice held a strength about it, as if she was trying to invoke being a rock for him. “I know it’s hard, Dante… I know it’s painful. I’ve been through something similar, too. Just know you’re not suffering alone, and I’ll help hide your pain. We will go by what makes you feel comfortable, which is why I brought you out here. I don’t want to break your pride, as it makes you fun.” Tears fell, but she still had that smile on her face. If Dante took in some of her wavelength, he could feel that she wasn’t upset, just overwhelmed and trying to restrain it. “I also don’t want you to think of me as some replacement. Not because of my emotional well-being, but yours and the memory you hold. I don’t want to sully what you have, just enhance your strengths.” She went out on a limb here, given what she saw. “How long has it been? Being wielded like this.” She asked softly, eyes still closed as she felt out their connection, only strengthening it when Dante made efforts to.

Normally, she would do all the work, but given she frankly only had half her own soul to work with due to her being partially transformed, she was also taking this one step at a time. She desperately wanted this to work, and Dante might be able to pick up on an anxiety of losing out on another weapon if this didn’t work, especially given how transparent her wavelength was.

Dante jolts at Sara’s approach, but rather than immediately holding him, she lets him gradually grow accustomed at his own pace. He can feel sparks of her Wavelength linger. Slowly but surely, her hands coil around the pole. Dante’s heart races, anxious over the contact. It felt like a betrayal though he had no reason to when he was let go in the first place. If anything he was a discarded weapon, yet Rory’s memory proceeds to haunt him. The weight of his past keeps him from fully connecting with Sara, but somehow her gentle wavelength pierced through enough for him to feel her soul.

The loss, the pain much like before shows him Sara was secretly suffering from the inside just as much as him except hers felt heavier like carrying the weight on her shoulders. It was overwhelming and it seems she knows that. Even now, she’s attempting to hold it in. Her shaky voice did not go unnoticed nor did the tears daring to fall but inevitably cascaded down her face. Dante knew nothing of Sara though understood what it felt to be afraid, to feel so lost you can't seem to dig yourself out of a bad situation no matter how much you try. It’s like the world is against you at every turn. He listened closely to her pretend to act strong. His expression stoic as if he expected her to say something sappy like she did before, except this time she was clearly genuine. What ran through his head is how perceives Sara now. She was weak. Her emotional state felt like a whirlwind that not even she can contain. However, that doesn't deter the man from quitting when he’s barely gotten far into his journey, and though he won't admit it, is flattered to be wanted again. He can equally reciprocate wanting for once a partnership to work. If only he could be as strong as Sara is at the moment.

Dante gave no response to Sara allowing her to vent and create her assumptions about him. After a while he decides to cut it short by being snippy. ”Hey, do you mind? You’re drenching me in your disgusting, salty tears.” He crosses his arms, his back turned against Sara in his space. “Quit crying, I didn't sign up to be paired with a baby. I mean…I did sign up, I just didn't get to pick who I pair up with. It definitely wouldn't be someone who’s easily emotional. Ugh!” He hoped his barking would cause the girl to move on. ”We should be training not having a therapy session. If we don't start in the next ten seconds I’m out of here.”

As much as Sara tried to tell herself it was okay, her old nemesis - anxiety - came back again. However, it didn’t last very long. Dante’s snippiness pulled her out of it, but instead of being helpful, she took it a little wrong. Not wrong as in, she got mad at him, but wrong as in she took all of her emotions and bottled it up. She took in a deep breath, used her sleeve to wipe away her tears, and focused on the art of dancing with her weapon.

Pulling him up, the weight wasn’t any better, but she could manage. Her wavelength felt a little dead, cold. They still had the barest of connections, but it wasn’t a whole lot they could work with. Still, Sara swung and spun him around as if he were an extension of herself regardless, the movements slow as to get the feel for a pole weapon again, only for the movements to quicken their pace. Only through this, she calmed. The wavelength felt warm and inviting again, and she was breathing evenly. “You know-” She started, as she did an overhead spin while spinning her body to slice the air in front of her. “My first long-term partner and I would get into fights all the time because of the way we’d communicate.” She chuckled. “I think we should be a bit careful, hm? But all that will come in due time.” She wasn’t expecting things to be better now, she was expecting things to be doable.

She then pulled her arm back so the halberd rested behind her as she charged forward, using her werewolf speed to quickly fly into the trees, scaling up one with ease, then darting through the branches as if she were a monkey, using Dante to slice branches off with deft ease.

As soon as Sara picked herself up, Dante noticed something wrong. He had caused her to bottle herself which was not his intention. He mentally scolds himself for taking the wrong approach. The way she moved Dante showed obvious signs of his repercussions. What could he do about it? It’s not like he asked her to bury her emotions, right? Dante shakes his head and vaults his thoughts for the time being. He returns to focus. Sara begins to mention her past partner and the need to communicate to avoid misunderstandings. That was given, the problem is adapting, and learning to trust a person. He would have no issue vocalizing, but confiding is a different story. ”Yeah, if we ever get there.” He grumbled.

Being swung around after so long reminded Dante of how much movement there is required. The spinning, and twirling was too much. He was going through the motions, but he tried hard to hold it in until he couldn't. ”Stop…Stop! Put me down!” He cried in alarm as if in total distress.

Sara chuckled, the frustration she felt earlier completely gone. She landed on the ground, setting Dante down carefully against a tree so he had something to hold on to when he transformed back. Even after getting her mad briefly, she still did what she could to make sure he was okay. Though, she couldn’t help but tease him on it. “We might need to work on that. Are you always this motion sick?” She grinned. Despite her teasing, she came up to him, still gave him his space, but softly rubbed his upper back, gauging from the side of his face if he was okay.

As Dante reverts to normal, he leans against the tree and spews his guts out. His head continues to spin even as he’s steady. He didn't care whether Sara was touching him or not, he just wanted the feeling to go away. He rests his head on the trunk of the tree with his eyes shut, and panting. For the third time, he shoots a glare at Sara’s jest. ”Of course not. I haven't exactly been wielded since I was a teen.” He revealed. ”Ugh, stupid head. Stupid-fuuuuuuck!” Dante slides down into a crouch position hiding his face into his knees. ”I need a drink to wash this down.”

Well, that got the answer she asked before. A teenager, so it’s been several years. Sara dropped being teasing, instead she pulled around her pack that had a few things. One was a water bottle, just in case she got thirsty, and then a towel. The water bottle was cold due to an ice pack that was with it, and she opened up the bottle to pour some of the water onto the towel, then wringed the towel to get it damp instead of sopping wet. She then held both out to him, the water bottle still three-quarters full. “Here. I probably should have asked before I started spinning you around, huh?” She sighed, knowing this was her fault for not pressing the question that he had ignored the first time, so she was doing what she could to mitigate it.

The sound of trickling water catches Dante’s attention. A bottle of water, and a damp cloth are handed to him. He snatches the plastic eager to rinse his mouth. ”I meant whiskey not water, but thanks.” His voice raspy, parched from hurling his contents. He parts his lips to reply to Sara’s question, but halts, and reevaluates his choice in words. The last time he spoke out of his ass, he earned a cold shoulder, though they were still respectful with them. This time, it’s his turn to do the same, and not be a jerk. ”Nah, shit just happens. You couldn’t have known. It’s not something I care to open about. You were just doing your duty as a meister. That’s all.” Dante hands the bottle back considering the cap remains in Sara’s hands. He then reaches out for the cloth to wipe his mouth. ”Ready to try again?”

Sara chuckled at his need for whiskey, rolling her eyes. Though, now she was thinking about it. Nadia had a flask of vodka with her all the time, she figured it might be good to bring a little flask of whiskey just in case. If it’s for a medical measure, of course. What she wasn’t expecting - and something she realized was very different from Noah - was that Dante, in their first meeting, was trying so hard. She gave him a proud smile, understanding him. He took a while to get to trust someone, so she was going to do baby steps alongside him instead of doing what she would normally do, which was take them on a leap of faith with her.

“Maybe we should also go to my place for some dinner.” She mused, taking the bottle to twist the cap back on and putting it in her belt pack. “I’ll consider bringing a flask of whiskey next time. There’s some back at my place. Also, my duty as a meister is in service to my weapon. Without a weapon, a meister is just a regular person and is nothing in the ranks of the DWMA.” Standing up, she held her hand out to help Dante up. “Ready when you are.” She smiled, her tail wagging now.

Dante stood up on his own. He still wasn’t a touchy feely type of guy, and he wasn’t going to be easily swayed in one day. He rolls his eyes. ”I’ve said it before, no way. Buy a guy a drink first then we will talk.” Dante walks forward, and stretches checking to see if he’s able to go another round. ”If you don’t bring a flask I will just to get this day over with.” One more head tilt, and Dante was prepared. He stares at Sara with a bemuse expression. ”Well aren’t you a peach in the system? If only more people thought like you.” While it may have sounded sarcastic, there was some sincerity to it. There wouldn’t be a bunch of narcissistic agents, and Fate wouldn’t have a need. He takes a deep breath and transforms back into a halberd.

Sara went back to being her giggly self at the comment of him not going to her place. Buy a drink though? Her ears perked up, those amber eyes contemplating the passive request. She was even of sound mind to put away the sarcastic tone, knowing what he was saying. Grabbing the halberd, she made an effort to not spin him around so much as she went about pruning the trees of their branches.

And then get some whisky for him after.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Colossal Combat

A Free For All Encounter

Time / 1132
Date / 09.26.67
City / New York
State / New York
Location / John F Kennedy International Airport
Tags / RedArmyShogun EmperorsChosen Shotgunpenguin

Plans change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. In the case of an entire mission being cancelled and a last-minute team reshuffling, one would be reasonably hard-pressed to predict any good would come of the changes the Fate Agents encountered this Monday morning. Sara was to be paired again with Nadia in an attempt to foster teamwork, but that went entirely out the window when what was being Kaiju Number Nine attacked. Originally, it hit Atlantic City in New Jersey, but by the time the DWMA was involved, it had already left and made its way North to New York for whatever reason. The situation was considered all-hands-on-deck. The United States Military, mercenaries of all kinds, the DWMA, even the Witches were coming in to help. Who and what would show up to a distress call like this was uncertain—though they would notably need to be pretty strong, pretty confident, or pretty stupid to rush up against such a massive creature.

KN9 (often audibly just called K-9) tore through a good amount of boardwalk at Atlantic City, an amusement park, and the Steel Pier. Billions in damages with several hundred in civilian casualties, the number itself only so low as the area was fairly well-evacuated by the time the creature was encountered. Several hundred more in military personnel were lost trying to kill the creature from land, sea, and sky. Given it stood nearly three hundred feet high, had a high seemingly impervious to artillery and impenetrable to armor-piercing munitions, the losses painted a pretty clear picture. Regular armed forces simply wouldn't cut it. Given the location of the creature, the nuclear option was clearly less than ideal.

It was humanoid in nature with a long, lobster-like tail that trailed back into the ocean as if the veil of a long dress. It was never actually out of the ocean. From its back and sides were four, long tentacles that were even longer than the creature was tall, each capable of easily rending buildings and steel, each just as durable as the creature. Sound-based weapons proved in effective. The only weapon the military could come up with to do any damage was a microwave canon and while it did cause a hole in the left leg of the creature, it was quick to heal itself from that wound. Then, promptly target the weapon that caused it.

As the situation was now, KN9 was attacking John F Kennedy International Airport in New York. It began its rampage on Rockaway Beach, disappeared, then remerged at from the water at the Jamaica Wildlife Preserve. There it consumed animals and freed plenty others until the first wave of reinforcements came in from the airport. The creature soon turned its attention to the airport, seemingly knowing it was the source of the new resistance it was encountering. This proved effective, forcing dozens of flights to redirect and in turn causing many an agent and mercenary out of the fight before they even arrived. This Kaiju was proving far more intelligent than the last one that attacked Japan in the 60's.

This also became the reason that the Fate Agents would be dropping in some ways North of the airport via parachute. Nadia and Dani were chosen specifically with the hopes of their scorpion sting being capable of inflicting actual damage. Adrian was sent due to the synergy between him and Dani. Feng, Aki, and Wes were chosen solely for the latter of the group; there would likely be a wide array of agents and mercenaries that could benefit from his skills. A handful of other Fate Agents were chosen, too, but they were sent in the first round of flights that were detoured. In any case, this situation was being used somewhat to showcase the value of the program. If any of them could be useful in this dire circumstance, it would only lend credence to the program. Furthermore, the situation demanded all the help the DWMA could provide.

That is where the six Fate Agents found themselves in the beginning of this mission: flying over the streets of New York City a few blocks North of JFK airport amidst a kaiju attack being told they now needed to jump from a plane to avoid the otherwise almost certain-death that the armored tendrils of KN9 would cause them.

No bothered to ask if they were afraid of heights.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Kaiju Cleanup

A Mission of Restoration

Time / 1203
Date / 09.26.67
City / Atlantic City
State / New Jersey
Location / Steel Pier
Tags / Merciless Medic The Regal Rper Peckinou RedArmyShogun Meredith

It was not ideal. Everyone knew it. The decisions were made last minute and the general rule of thumb was to err on the side of caution. Generally, the trio with Gauss would have been a fantastic choice for a mission where interacting with others was a large factor, however, given the high likelihood of Witches both as volunteers from the Wiccan Council and as mercenaries, it wasn't a solid choice due to Arkayis. More so, the four former pupils of Rand were a hotly debated topic amongst the Witch Realm—especially with Rand in his current state. That said, each of them had something significant they could offer the current situation:

There was plenty of debris, dead, alive, and rotting, all along the coast. Chanterelle could expedite cleaning it up or convert it into materials more safe for the tides to take back to the ocean. Salt water might not have been her thing, but the alternative was burning and thus wasting organic material that could be used to help rebuild the ecosystem.

Ark had the ability to move large swathes of Earth and could easily do the work of multiple large pieces of equipment. Even the unstable sand was something he could manipulate. And, with his seismic sense, he could easily find any stragglers that needed saved. If anything, he might be stretched thin.

Raphael and Maria had similar purposes with synergistic abilities. The Steel Pier and Amusement Park would still need plenty of help moving the broken bits of the former Ferris Wheel and attractions. Manpower without exhaustion or worry of loss of limb was wildly important and chains that could lift more weight from odd angles could accomplish in a few minutes what might take a normal crew hours.

As long as their leader could prevent any major friction between the team, they had the potential to be a massive help. Even now, there were still mass triage camps—not unlike what Noah saw following the Fool's Festival—with EMS going in and out trying to rush injured to hospitals. The seven Fate Agents were told they may be there all week if not longer doing what they could to help, depending on how the fight with KN9 went and what other issues might arise. It wasn't often that the DWMA was given a chance to help in a case like this. The DWMA weren't philanthropists and rarely donated their time. Not because they didn't want to, but a combination of political factors and the busy demands of literally fighting evil conflicted with the general betterment of the world.

Large scale tragedies like this, though, were a good opportunity for them to truly extend their reach and help out. The emergency a kaiju present was enough to cut through the red tape and allow them to help more than ever. Same with the Wiccan Council; Witches were being allowed to come help in droves without question. This was an opportunity not only to do good, but to look good in the eyes of the people. This was a chance to really begin building the image the DWMA wanted. A chance to be seen in a better light.

The Atlantic City Airport was wildly crowded. Maria had to downsize her dolls with this first flight. It couldn't be helped; the entire airport was a chaotic, frenzied mess due to the nearby attack on the JFK International Airport. Plenty of flights were redirected. This happened to be where Gauss and his additional financial resources proved useful. He wasn't able to work around the flight lockdowns, but he was able to source a small shop that worked specifically on cabs and taxies alongside a nearby furniture store that were more than willing to essentially sell their tools to him to help with the situation at the pier. Combined with some local hardware stores and Maria would end up with about half a a workshop full of standard tools awaiting her. Beyond that, he was also able to acquire transport for them in the form of three chauffeured vehicles that were willing to drive through the chaos to get them there. Ubers weren't exactly reliable during monster attacks, but money talked.

As much as money may talk, some sights in this world left one speechless. The three cars all came to a stop once traffic did. They were near the coast, close enough to see the massive swarms of what looked like flying fish. Whatever these green-blue fish were, they behaved like distance cousins of piranhas and locusts, devouring whatever they found in their way. Wooden debris, other fish of various sizes that were left stranded when the kaiju came from the tide. The group was still too far out to fully see the fish individually or the actual destruction the swarm were causing, but it was incredibly hard to ignore.

Gauss urged the driver of his car and thus the other two to go closer, but traffic was becoming and more backed up by the moment. As if the situation could only become weirder, white birds the size of grown men if not larger began to fly overhead and swoop in. Enormous albatrosses that normally wandered the world and could be seen in distinctive migration patterns were now completely off course for one sole reason... the feast of the flying, carnivorous fish. One might think diving into the swarm would be suicide, but apparently, it was little different than an eagle catching a leaping salmon to these albatrosses. The shadows overhead and birds now perching on houses and buildings caused some type of panic. The traffic was already terrible, and the new bird and fish situation only made it worse.

As it turned out, none the reason the cars had stopped was that the wingbeats of these legendary birds caused gusts that could flip cars, which had occurred further up the road. In the sky where they normally resided, they mostly glided, and were far away from people. Here and now so close to a city, their magical wingbeats were dangerous and deadly even if they meant no harm to humans. This trivial fact might not have been something even the assortment of mages knew about or would immediately notice, but it would prove incredibly hard to ignore the hurricane-force gusts that were now swooping through the city.

The cars had stopped. Their drivers weren't intent on proceeding any further (not that they could with the traffic) regardless of their pay. Gauss sent out a message to meet him on the sidewalk and they would discuss how to proceed from there. Chant, Maria, Raph, and Ark were likely all receiving a similar complaint from their driver. It seems money in fact could not convince all men to walk barefoot to Hell. Gauss exited the passengers seat of his vehicle, then awaited his partners to exit from the back. He didn't think they needed to transform just yet, but that was about the extent of his current thought process. The entire situation he found himself in was odd. Flying fish on the coastline, massive birds in the sky causing gale-force gusts, all following an attack from a kaiju no one even knew existed. From what he gathered, the only remaining kaiju-like creatures were dormant. Resting. Observed. This one was new.

Hopefully, between a Witch and three Sorcerers, one of them might have some idea of what the Hell was going on. He would find out soon enough. He intended on congregating with them just a few feet away.

 

[Meredith]

Chanterelle Dubois

Trouble on the Road

Chanterelle was amped up.

She’d been itching to get out in the field–to have some kind of purpose–since the events on Dall Island. Even better, this was a situation that she understood and had the repertoire to assist with–and she was with a group she was mostly familiar with.

Another factor in her increased confidence was the obvious change in her gear. Unlike the last mission, they’d arrived in Atlantic City with a clear objective. Chanterelle was here to enact the domain of rot. She’d discussed doing this kind of work previously and defined her expectations of equipment for this purpose. They’d settled on a custom-made garment: essentially a triple-layered pair of nylon chest waders (buckled straps, front pocket, and all), although the nylon ended only a few inches above the ankles and the boots themselves had a form factor closer to a hiking shoe. They were an absolute bitch to get on, but they both protected her from becoming inevitably covered in detritus and easily covered two-thirds of her body.

The garment hadn’t been designed to insulate her from the salt water that so irritated her skin, but this was an added bonus.

A black windbreaker underneath the chest harness visually obscured its straps, at least at first glance. It was, mercifully, light. Underneath it all, she wore a long-sleeved shirt–cut-resistant–and a pair of simple breathable athletics pants. Maria’s gloves were in a waterproof bag in her chest pocket, along with a pair of headphones. Her phone sat in its own sleeve where it could be used while still being protected from whatever she might have on her hands. She was warm even when sitting in this outfit, but she couldn’t complain. It was a hell of a lot cooler here than in Nevada.

Her backpack contained a small variety of equipment. Three changes of clothes similar to what she was already wearing. The chargers for her phone and headphones. A small selection of packaged snacks from the vending machine (she’d gotten restless in the airport). A pair of waterproof hiking boots meant for casual wear. A second steel thermos to supplement the one hanging from a clip at her hip opposite to her standard-issue knife. Both were equipped with water filtration straws (she couldn’t share them for obvious reasons). The most important feature of the bag, though, was its ability to clip onto her harness. They were made of the same material–part of the same set. The bag restricted her arms no more than her clothing itself, though it of course still weighed her down.

Her excitement had seen her through the ordeal to actually get there with minimal visible annoyance.

She’d thrown on her overwear soon after they got in the car, anticipating action. She'd chatted with Raph at first, but was soon enraptured by their surroundings. The devastation itself was impressive, but she’d only ever seen pictures of Atlantic City. The sights consumed her as they moved through its streets–and, really, the delay would have perturbed her if she wasn’t so busy looking around. She tapped on the glass to direct Raphael’s attention toward the chaos outside, fish and albatrosses alike. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but it reminded her of Dall Island in a way she did not like.

Chanterelle felt her wristwatch buzz. Before she could check it, Gauss bailed out of the car in front of them. She responded to this instead. Her seatbelt was already off–they’d been stopped a minute–and she pushed the car door open, looking back at Raph with a grin. “Looks like we’re walking.”

Her feet hit asphalt. She made her way to the side of the road naturally, disinclined to stand in traffic even if it was stopped. This also brought her closer to the water. She tied her hair into a tight bun as she surveyed the coastline, glancing back to the road to affirm she’d gone in the right direction before finally thinking to check her wristwatch.

It would be easier for them to devise a working theory about the fish if they could get their hands on one, but she wasn’t sure that that was a possibility as she considered the swarm.

The Garden Witch​

Species Witch
Rank: Fate Agent

Location: The Steel Pier, Atlantic City, NJ.
Mission: Kaiju Cleanup
Status: Alive and Well

​

Merciless Medic The Regal Rper
Peckinou RedArmyShogun Sir Les Paul

 

[Sir Les Paul]

The Fate of the Sphinx
Cairo, Egypt​

September 21st, 2067​

The initial explanation was… a mess. Not only a mess, but it was an awkward series of events for those in charge. The chain of command for F.A.T.E. Agents went directly to Cyrus, Death Scythe of Lord Kidd himself. Ironically, while that position generally went to the most powerful Death Scythe of the generation–which Cyrus was, within the DWMA–it afforded very little political power, at least in comparison to others.

Every DWMA Branch was headed by a Death Scythe, per centuries old tradition. Even though those Death Scythes had their own Meister, the logic was that if ever there was a reason for the Shinigami to come and defend their branch, he would have a de facto weapon. This had been the structure of the DWMA since its inception. Since the Eight Legions. Since the time of Asura.

The Shinigami himself, however, ran the Central or North American Branch, meaning his personal Death Scythe didn’t actually act as an organizational head. It made the position a weird limbo of both being the strongest and weakest of the leading Death Scythes–depending on if it was a literal battle or a political one.

In this situation, uncovering a true, living sphinx was a massive deal. Not only was it a Magical species thought to be extinct, but they were of the highest caliber of Magical Creatures Earth had ever had to offer. Beyond that, this one–Meskhenet–had been sealed away with an alleged history of wanton destruction, placing herself on a pedestal like a God. The Shinigami of her generation was much more hands-off, primarily because the Witch Realm was still in turmoil at the time, so he had no reason to pull humanity together.

In any case, this situation not only exceeded the paygrade of Gauss, but also Cyrus. He had no say in the matter here, aside from perhaps advising Lord Kidd. This was a delicate situation wherein the Egyptian people could demand some type of retribution for the crimes committed all those thousands of years ago. At the same time, Meskhenet and her tyranny were far from part of the zeitgeist of Egyptian culture. Hell, she wasn’t even made into a Yu-Gi-Oh card–and Konami made everything into a card.

The situation had to be passed up and a decision be made. It was actually Asad, head of the African Branch, that suggested they try to make a decision quickly. Not only to deal with Meskhenet sooner rather than later, but also to control any backlash and public relations that might occur based on their decision. The faster they made a unified front, the more effective any decision they made would be.

This a fairly large commitment from the African Branch given their general isolationist behavior. The fact they offered to host and initiated this teamwork was something Kidd elected to respect, choosing to fly out immediately, briefly leaving Cyrus in charge of the Central Branch–not something he was happy about, but someone trustworthy needed to stay in official control.

Cyrus would have never guessed a mission debrief that involved Thaddeus Thales flirting with a Sphinx would result in him briefly being in absolute control over Death City, but here he was. If only the little fucker could kill his target and keep it in his pants…

Nevertheless, it all led to the current situation.

Asad had been entertaining Meskhenet personally up to this point, which itself wasn’t too terribly difficult. The African Branch was headed out of Cairo, which had a plethora of museums, sites to see both new and old, and even the relatively nearby pyramids of Gaza and sphinx statue if Meskhenet was so inclined. Otherwise, it was quite difficult to truly explain just how far Lord Kidd was from them. Not only was the idea of seven thousand miles absurd to their idea of the size of the world, but defining a mile or kilometer when her units of measurement were wildly different was a whole chore.

It also seemed that the gift of telepathic understanding she had was dwindling as time went on. Ishmael either through the artifacts or his ritual had a bond with her that no one else had, that or just the initial magic of the ritual was fading. She may have been freed, but some abilities were simply not meant to be maintained.

While Asad tended to her, Kidd hopped on his private jet and tried conversing with the Witch Realm, not wanting to perhaps cross any boundaries with the sphinx, given the magical nature. As it turned out, Maba didn’t give a damn about the sphinx. As powerful as it may be, Maba was fairly certain she could handle her alone if need be, which meant that it would only actually take a handful of Witches to fight her. Such a threat in the human realm was trivial in her eyes.

Witch Realm was hardly a concern. On the other hand, how mankind would take it was an entirely different question. When situations like this arose, the Shinigami typically relied on his allies of man to assist. The most prominent such ally was that of House Yngling. Considered a “clan of Kings”, House Yngling was a powerful representative of humanity that originated out of Norway. They had been present in many of the conflicts throughout history involving the DWMA, sometimes for and sometimes against them. They also gave birth to some of the most powerful humans in the more modern era, having the record for Mighty Souls in that their House had over sixty since the fourteenth century.

House Yngling was part of trade networks all throughout Europe, Western Asia and Northern Africa. This was in no small part due to the fact their trade continued through the era of Jorguün descendants pirating and pillaging before the DWMA intervened. House Yngling, in fact, were staunchly against the nearly genocidal tactic used by Lord Death, believing that the fact they could fight against the half-giants meant that in a few generations, others could, too.

House Yngling also participated in the great purge of Bloodsuckers and elimination of the Sanguine Bloodsucker Clans. On the other hand, they rejected the DWMA trying to combat the Fae. In short, the House had played a role both for and against the DWMA, making them a solid representation of mankind and an important advisory ally to the DWMA. In this modern world of global politics, their influence may have waned, but they were the closest that existed to an opinion of humanity that the DWMA was going to get.

Which was why Charlotte, second Princess of House Yngling, would also be attending.

The location would be a beautiful little place called Zamalek. A highly-developed island between Cairo and Giza, situated within the Nile. Zamalek was specifically the Northern part of the island; the entire island was called Gezira. And, while there were plenty of amazing sites and gorgeous scenes just on this small strip of land alone, the one specifically chosen for this exchange was the Cairo Opera House.

For as popular as the place was, it only had events going on at specific times and dates as most venues did, and presently, there was nothing on the agenda that would overlap with this meeting. Of course, they could have just had the meeting at the DWMA Headquarters, but given that part of the ongoing theme Asad was pushing involved keeping Meskhenet placated, there were few better places. Thus, the entire central bout of the opera house was theirs.

And, of course, Kidd was the last to arrive. Asad and Meskhenet were present for some time, though touring the entire area. Charlotte arrived some time into the tour, and elected to simply slide in as if it were nothing. It wasn’t until Kidd messaged his arrival at the Opera House that they grouped at the center stage for discussions and decisions. Should anything horrible occur, Kidd and Asad together would likely prove capable of facing off against Meskhenet. Charlotte was no slouch, either. Still, the stage was set to see if this play would turn out a comedy… or a tragedy.

Whatever magics had reached her across space and time was in fact weakened and as she gazed at the wonders man had built and what brief view of history was allowed, Meskhenet could not but help noticing two things, besides a brief mention here or there, she herself had not made an impact at all, not only that, but much of the history of the Nile, the creatures who roamed there once with, the history of the people, so much was lost. The remains of the dead were the only somber reminders, if Man had wiped them all out, or if they had went to another realm akin to the fae, or exactly like the fae, it mattered little. Even the path of the Nile was different and the various triumphs and conquests of Empires that made Egypt look insignificant had achieved some results akin to her own, if not even worse. Afterall, it was through Greek writings that even the words the people once wrote could be read, and even then not all of them. And the people for the most spoke one of two languages, those of invader Warriors of God from across the Red Sea and the Sinai, and the English she had learned from the Wizard who had awakened her.

Even these brief introductions and the knowledge that she was likely the last of that Pantheon of so-called Gods, aside from the Anpu, was rather sobering. Though how humans now moved about was truly perverse, wheeled chariots that gave a smell most foul. And then there was the damage to the Sphinx of Gaza, to think savages would shoot at it solely to work on the ranging of their cannons and to subdue the local populace… Still, at least there was some comfort, this Asad was well versed in the region he ran. But even still there were bigger and more important people to arrive, what had proven surprisingly difficult to find given it went against the current culture and customs was finding a bottle of wine and a suitable goblet. Not working like man, she perched herself across a handful of seats on a bench as she shifted and turned, as if to be like a cat trying to find the exact and comfortable position, goblet in hand, she was by no means drunk as she sighed a bit, looking at the bottle. Seemingly it was from a nation called Italy, who had also been in the long line of conquers.

There was also this new arrival, she bore the marks and figure of the Sea People, hair that was akin to gold than the shaved heads and tan skin that were custom in her time, or black hair that was slick and well kept. She wore curious clothing that was out of place and out of time akin to her own, given that she was clean and well kempt, she was likely some form of elite.

“The one burning question I must ask before we begin, is what do you think, Meskhenet? I understand Asad has been providing some company, what is it you've learned? From my understanding your return to our modern world and all that has transpired in your absence, is a lot to take in. So before we begin, please, tell me, how are you taking the tour” and with a hand gesturing lax, “and all experienced so far?”

It was said in a polite yet welcoming manner with a pinch of warmth rarely seen on Kidd’s face these days where it often maintained that absolute business neutrality. His question wasn't just there to get her opinion on her views, as a Sphinx she would know or have the inkling at least to understand he was measuring her mindset her state of being, she had the chance here to not turn a thought to be extinct species a truly extinct one, and his bright yellow eyes, watched her carefully.

Watched in a way that almost seemed he wasn't truly looking at her at all but something much much more as he waited for her reply.
With that and the Shinigami himself here, she knew only the specifics, he was the Son of Lord Death, a being that was even more, or as ancient as she, the son? Not so much. Still he had asked an honest question. To the point even though there was danger here, even if he was smiling.

“Honestly? I am not so sure. It has been but one day and the review of history I got was compressed and covers over three thousand years. Only a few footnotes, with coverage on more modern things and technology. More than anything I feel alone, and outside of a few monsters, only those Anpu are cut off of cloth I know. Ironically my one time enemies are now the closest things I have to familiarity. You have all come so far in the last three thousand years.

Had I seen such promise in those bald farmers and gold covered men long ago, perhaps I would not have burned them. Mankind of the current era is far more creative and innovative, though you do stagnate in some areas and for the majority you are still fools. Dangerous fools at that, with powers that make even my excess look like nothing. I also found it disappointing how so much of the Old Kingdom’s history has been lost, and am a bit disappointed that I wasn’t even made mention of other than in passing. But alas, doing such now would be more trouble than it's worth, and you have all so much to amuse me.”

Setting her goblet down on the arm rest nearest to her, she huffs. “Though this is not all that comfortable, you all don’t build buildings as tall as the Ancients, it makes me going back to my original form all the more problematic.

Your man has shown me what he can, but I still have a lot to take in and deal with. For a true answer, you should ask me again in a hundred years.”

“To be blunt, Lord Kidd, I don’t really believe that is the burning question,” Charlotte said, somewhat playfully but with a definitive touch of assertion. Shinigami or not, Charlotte was not one to hold her tongue or withhold her opinion. For such a short representation of royalty, she certainly carried a large attitude.

“At the end of the day, there are only two factors that matter here,” she continued, offering her perspective in a quick, cutting tone. “First, we simply cannot have anyone–regardless of origin–running around rampaging or slaughtering people. That now extends to the entire globe. Coexistence hinges on that type of peace,” Charlotte told the group, though her direct approach to the topic merited a visible wince from Asad. The man had been delicately discussing various topics with Meskhenet through the day only for the glass to be shattered in a few brief words.

“Secondly, if we can come to terms with the first point, we need to figure out how we’re going to portray the first Sphinx in over a millenia to the people, especially given… history,” Charlotte went on, doubling down on the hard subjects. She didn’t mince words. In a way, such a direct approach would eventually be necessary. Bringing Meskhenet into the modern world would be no small task.

“To your first point, that is a certainty. From your response alone Meskhenet, you clearly have an understanding of the circumstances. Given the past however, we must handle any approach at reintroduction into the world with delicacy considering the Anpu’s shared past with you.

“Letting you travel without surveillance is out of the question for one, the issue is less of what to do with you and more what to do once the world knows about you. It's not just the people of Egypt that could have a bad response or the Anpu, but how to countermeasure the unforeseen beyond the initial reactions.” And in all honesty he was thinking about just what to suggest in terms of making her identity known but making her presence just as scarce. He was fairly certain given the present exposure and culture shock she had so far, there wasn't about to be a lapse in judgment for an early sentence.

The issue was, things in Africa as a whole had changed since the Congo War. Even though DWMA response had been immediate and the African Branch had handled the problem he still had the updates, the meetings, the awareness of the increased scrutiny towards foreign magical entities ever since the Congo War introduced Outlaws as allies for political gain and military strength.

“What reaction do you believe Egypt would have to the presence of a Sphinx, Asad? At the same time, what reactions do you believe our political contemporaries would have, Charlotte?”

For her part the Sphinx remained sipping her wine as the group had a back and forth discussion, she saw no need to get involved just yet, until the presence of a Sphinx bit.

“If I intended to rampage, I would have already started DWMA. Three thousand years as a prisoner to my own soul, that was surely some form of repentance or punishment, no? I had no intention of changing my ways till I saw what yours had to say and show, just as I did here. So to offer the solution to your problem, I cannot say I’m thrilled at the subject, but the Anpu should be partners in this discussion. Or to put it another way.”

She smiled thinly at that, “Both of us are relics of a distant past, but with my magic and spirit, I offer an alternative to the sons and daughters of man. A sphinx is a secret keeper and a guardian. In fact I was the Guardian of the Nile along the sections I was imprisoned, the source of much of my contention with man was for their arrogance in claiming what was mine, or as the Greeks called it, The strong do what they have to do and the weak accept what they have to accept.

So thus with man having proved his strength I am the one to accept things.” Where she was going with all of this may have been hard for the others to accept as she smirked slightly.

“So DWMA, I offer my services, with a war of silence by my own self I can be a backup in keeping your information, or files you do not want others to know of and the silence on these matters can easily be worded so that only one of yours can gain the knowledge with the right specifications. If you are not willing to trust or use me that far, then though it irks me to some regard, I could throw my lot in with the Anpu and join their reenactments and cultural preservation efforts. Simply put the Egyptian Government or DWMA can have Two Sphinxes, one a statue, the other real, and I could offer my wisdom or secret keeping to a select few, provided I have some comforts, I could do this for a long while I think. I could also take up my position as guardian of the Nile once more and attempt to restore and balance the presence of life in the area.” She offered in conclusion.

“It is not… easy to be a voice for Egypt,” Asad answered, hesitating even to do so. Not out of fear of the sphinx this time or some odd respect, but because of the genuine difficulty of the question. “Egypt has a very diverse culture… It has both much wealth and much poverty. Those in the lower rungs might care more about traditions and history, but those making their lives in the cities and looking for a thriving career couldn’t care less,” Asad explained.

“Egypt is where your Professor Davis insisted one of his Mana Crystal Factories be installed and it alone bolstered the GDP of the country into the top thirty of the world. We are certainly grateful for such an investment, Lord Kidd, but it has not purely been a boon… many countries envy and have altered trade arrangements to do it, imposing levies and tariffs. More so, it increased industrialization in many parts of the country, bringing in factories and work, which only further distanced the people from their local culture,” Asad continued, explaining to the three of them the current affairs of Egypt to some degree but also the world.

It was true. Professor Davis pinpointed Alexandria, the site of a powerful ley line that many believed blessed the Nile, to also be a perfect location for a Mana Crystal factory. There were only so many in the world and wherever they went, they brought great economical prosperity. Alexandria had the infrastructure to help that along, access to the mediterranean sea, and the workforce to take advantage of it all. Perfect though it may be, it was a double-edged sword on the international front.

None of that was the point Asad brought up, though it would be new information to both Charlotte and Lord Kidd. The Shinigami had never received such reports or complaints of the backlash of the factory and Charlotte’s influence didn’t extend as far as Africa. Meskhenet was likely lost on both what mana crystals were as magitech itself would be mostly foreign to her–even the nature of factory work might not have been clear–but she understood well enough what jealous nations did when they saw what they deemed unfair wealth accruing outside of their hands.

Regardless, what Asad was trying to do is point out a very real and very unfortunate fact. Most Egypt had grown pretty distant from their culture, so it was unlikely to be a problem. There simply were only so many polite ways to say that.

“I see,” Charlotte replied, “I can’t deny that I haven’t similar issues… but I also can’t deny that I haven’t considered their impact elsewhere, either.”

Again, news to Lord Kidd, but not the primary topic of the moment.
“The problem is the culture of today,” Charlotte said, shifting away from the topic of the mana crystal factories. “If we don’t acknowledge the existence of Meskhenet, it will appear as if we’re trying to hide her. If we don’t acknowledge her past but otherwise acknowledge her, the public will spin their own tales and do their best to vilify her, making her peaceful acceptance more difficult. That’s exactly what they do with most DWMA decisions anyway,” she explained, going over the more realistic public relations aspect of it all.

Asad also decided to chime in, not wanting to alienate Meskhenet given they were talking about her in front of her. “I can’t speak for the whole of the DWMA, but if you decided to stay in Africa, we wouldn’t really require anything of you. If you wanted to perform some duty, there is no objection, but I would not feel appropriate asking some task or favor of you,” he told her, clarifying that the terms he intended for didn’t impose on her. He just wanted a peaceful resolution.

“As for the Anpu, I’m sure Lord Death can find a way to integrate them into the Reformed Monster Clans with minimal friction. I am sure they could create an embassy for them or even carve out a sphere for their culture here, as they do the werewolves. Given the bloodshed werewolves have caused and their current acceptance in the United States, I'm sure the Anpu will get similar treatment over time,” Asad explained, trying to push the agenda of the Anpu in the direction of Lord Kidd. The Reformed Monster Clans initiative was something only the Shinigami presided over, but Asad was doing some not so subtle hinting at how he thought that should proceed.

“That is certainly true of that I have no doubt”, in response to Asad. “Charlotte, you have a fine point in both cases. My plan was to openly acknowledge Meskhenet’s background during her exposure. Hiding her from the public is not something I was considering, limiting the open knowledge on her location is though. Since she made the suggestion, I intend on considering the possibility of having her serve. If you were to become my Archivist, the excuse could be made that we have you under surveillance.” ..

Laughing at that Meskhenet stopped herself after a few moments. “Ah, Pardon me… I’m not laughing at doing such a thing, but that it’s not the most efficient of deals. For Asad, you will live only mere minutes by my own lifespan. Plus, would your others here approve of me holding the secrets of Egypt if not Africa? Though security is not much to worry about, it would take someone exceptionally powerful to make me talk against my will. And perish the thought of torture. A few thousand years of imprisonment, provided it doesn’t break you leaves you immune to such things. There is no greater prison than one’s own mind, with soul, magic and body split apart… Still, I am not against such a deal, or having what I’ve done, known, though I’m equally not against just making up a new story all together… Still, any such deals should be done by the expectancy of my own existence.”

“There will be no new story. Soon as one conspiracy theorist catches wind that it is a falsehood, any benefit gained will pale in comparison to the net loss of favor,” Charlotte responded, cutting in with her own opinion of the matter. “I would vote against Meskhenet becoming an archivist. We no longer live in an era where such is useful. Even if she cannot be broken and thus poses no liability, there is no benefit to the DWMA in creating another pool of information,” Charlotte continued, tearing into the previous conversation. Charlotte was many things, bold even in the face of the sphinx, but she above all was pragmatic.

”Also consider that immediately allying her with the DWMA for any reason will raise flags. It’s just a fact. There’s no reason to complicate the issue further than it needs to be,” Charlotte said, trying to put an end to the frivolous planning that had been ongoing. Sometimes simple was better. Kidd was known for overcomplicating things.

”Let us step back and instead of trying to assign a role, why not ask this simple question…” Charlotte suggested, turning her attention from Asad and Death the Kidd now to the sphinx. ”Meskhenet, what do you want to do in this new world? Should you take a more human form, there is nothing to stop you from walking amongst the crowds. You are only limited in violence–and imagination.”

“Hmm… What do I want to do, is it?” Looking at the stage, it was rather ironic, as her mind drifted about, thinking of the Anpu and others aside. “Let us say I could take on a more human form, such is not impossible, I am a magical creature after all. Though some aspects I cannot get rid of, chiefly my ears. The idea of even turning my form more human would have once been met with the death of the suggesting party… But that was long ago, given I’m even considering it…” Pausing for a bit as she looked at the wine goblet, she sighed a bit and actually put it down, Meskhenet seemed to be judging her position.

“This may sound rather odd, or maybe not, but I would like for the same status as the Anpu, a joint placement under the monster tribe protocols. I would like to call it, ah, what was the word storkholm, stockholm? Whatever it is, Syndrome. The Anpu were to offer their services with an Embassy in Death City, if not likely working with your agents in Egypt and Africa. Or so I predict that will be the case, I wish to stay among the Anpu and within Egypt unless matters take me elsewhere, my spirit and fate is tied to this land, much akin to the Fae. I offered to regulate the Nile what bit I can and to give my blessings upon the soil, I would also like to join them in their stagecraft and theater.

In addition, what value it has, I do offer my services and mind to the DWMA should you need help in matters regarding Wisdom, Riddles and Codes, however, I wish for access to the history of mankind over all these years, to see how you got to where you all are. I could offer the same services to humanity in general.

Ah yes, there is one more trifling thing I want, purely for my own amusement.”

Charlotte stared incredulously at the Sphinx for a moment, parsing what it was she requested. The displacement in time was clear and obvious. The majority of the requests Meskhenet made would have been difficult in her era, but trivial in this one. To such a degree that it was somewhat humorous to Charlotte. She did her best to stifle a laugh.

”You, the great Meskhenet, wish to be a farmer and effectively have access to the internet,” Charlotte said, vastly oversimplifying what the sphinx had requested, but still not being entirely inaccurate.

Asad looked over to Charlotte half-aghast, wondering how this little blonde girl managed to become as influential as she was while making such blunt commentary. ”I should warn you that Lord Oberon withdrew the Green from this realm many centuries ago. Those that remain do so at their volition and must return to recharge in the Otherworld every so often,” Asad said, quickly trying to change the subject with what would likely be substantial news to Meskhenet. She thought herself a God, but the act of willingly removing the entire Green from the Earth was a feat that surpassed any Witch and would easily rival a Shinigami. It was truly a godly feat.

”As for the Nile and agriculture, we would not be opposed to your help; Witches have been assisting with their magic in recent decades since the alliance I informed you of. However, we did much construction around the river as you can see and science has done many impossible task with farmland. You may wish to research the techniques yourself and adapt the knowledge to your own abilities,” Asad told her, essentially explaining that if she caught up on the current methods, her offer would be fine to accept.

”Only Lord Kidd can make the judgment call about the Monster Clans, but I do know we have made individual exceptions in the past. I do not know, however, if the Anpu would be so quick to accept you into their culture… such a resolution might be ideal, but the Anpu are a race that has chosen to remain hidden for thousands of years, even when humanity has recently been trying to forge alliances. I do not think we can promise you their support, but I am sure we can try to build a bridge between you…” Asad went on. He was much more of the diplomat than Charlotte, but he also was the one more acquainted with Egyptian culture and the respect a sphinx demands.

“We can’t force the Anpu to do anything,” Charlotte said, cutting right into the points made by Asad, ”or we would be no better slave-drivers–which we are not.”

”What was this other request, if you don’t mind?” Charlotte asked.

“Hmm… I see. So the great Fae King abandoned the world. I never knew him mind you, but his existence was known to me. And I could as easily just go to your death city and work my magics there, though hmm, no, that may be an idea worth considering. I do like my wine, but the Egyptians who converted to this Islam are an issue with it. But ah yes, that request.”

With a bemused expression she took the goblet to her lips. “Be it something more human, my true form, or this form, I wish to go on one of your date things with the honeyed worded one. I did say he would see me again, and worry not, I know what limits to take.”

Both Asad and Charlotte were taken aback by this request. They did not know quite how to respond. First, he was not an agent of the African Branch. Secondly, he was just a mere mortal. Bare more than a teenager. Sure, it was those honeyed words that avoided a blood bath to begin with, but it was quite outlandish to consider this a sincere request from a being such as a Sphinx. Worse, neither Charlotte or Asad knew the boy aside from his youth and his status as a Thales.

Both looked over to Lord Kidd, knowing that if anyone in this situation had to say something it would be him.

Kidd was silent. He was just silently staring at the Sphinx, and just continued to do so for an extra second.

He was known in his adulthood for having perfected a blank emotionless mask when it was necessary. The only thing that moved was his blinking eyes. It was hard to tell how he had perceived this request at all.

Until he cleared his throat.

“I…apologize for the pause, but am I to understand correctly you desire to go on a date?” In a measured voice, that said nothing about how out of place he now was in this conversation, he briefly adjusted his collar, glanced at his wristwatch, then met Meskhenet’s eyes once more, “With Thaddeus Thales?”

In the back of his mind he could hear Patty’s amused guffaw and following fit of laughter.

Almost involuntarily, imperceptibly he looked right next to Meskhenet, already knowing what one of his oldest friends would be doing right now had she been present to hear this.

The word ‘No’ was on the tip of his tongue. En route with a clear reason as to why he couldn't just let that happen. Didn't even care, even though he knew that Gauss might just oblige to the request. The word was ready to be fired. Even as he asked for the clarification, his mind was racing for ways to steer this conversation away from such a topic.

The hand reached up, adjusted his tie so it was at the proper positioning, as a nagging itch made him feel shifting his collar had caused the tie to move.

He was pretty sure a ‘No’would be the end of this topic. Yet, the word didn’t immediately leave his mouth, there was just enough time, a spare few seconds for their Sphinx guest to elaborate, as his tongue remained frozen at the roof, morbid curiosity as to why she would even make such a request in the first place.

Laughing at the expense of Kidd, Meskhenet took a sip from her goblet before speaking, as her eyes looked on the still rather young Lord of Death. “So much more human than your predecessor. I’ll just revoke my request till another time, though, if I am to remain in Egypt, I would like for a renovation of my tomb. I’ll assist in this of course, unless you all wish to take me to North America, Ne-va-da? Nevada, yes? As I said, this is my homeland, but my home and your home are three thousand years apart.” She offered as an alternative. “As in Egypt. This Egypt is radically different from the one I know.”

Putting all of the surprise and the distant echoes of his old Weapon partner aside, Kidd nodded, composing himself as he finished adjusting his tie at last.

“Well, mhm” with a soft clear of his throat, “I would be happy to supply the means you would require renovations performed on your tomb should you be staying in Egypt.” He assured.

“”Before we proceed with these renovations,” Asad interrupted, “would you mind if our archeologists–scholars of sorts–had the chance to research your tomb in its state?”

“Is it really a tomb if she’s alive?” Charlotte mused.

“Hmm, maybe I should call it a Temple.” Meskhenet said in short order, with what Charlotte had to point out, when the question of Asad was prompted, the Sphinx sat still for a few moments. Shaking her cup around she pursed her lips before finally speaking.

“You will not find much there, the central dome and its sigils are all that is left, it was a prison meant to seal me till they could come up with an alternative, but that seems to have been lost with even the information on me. By the way, how did the King of the Fae leave and take most of his kin and kingdom with him? As to the question in detail, I will allow some of your people in it provided I have other lodgings in the meantime. Though I do not much like it, you may hire porters from the locals, rather they have the chance to confirm there are no valuables so I don’t have to deal with pests like tomb robbers for the next 50 years, all so sure I have mountains of gold.”

“To your question about King Oberon and the rest of the Fae…we have no clear answers on what made them decide to leave Earth. I wasn't there when it happened so I have no way to truly know, and King Oberon isn't exactly going to answer to me even as a Shinigami.” Kidd explained.

After Kidd provided his explanation, Asad was quick to chime in, almost excited due to how she had given her permission. “I would not worry of thieves, Meskhenet. I shall have a team assembled to perform scans, take pictures, and do a thorough inventory of anything we find inside. I can then provide you with an itemized list of what you may want to… donate to our museums or keep for yourself. With those findings, I doubt anyone will be interested in invading your privacy. But, as you wish for renovations, we could certainly provide your temple with automated sentries. Such would be a longer-term, lower-cost solution than hiring guards for a few decades,” he explained, going over not just what he had in mind but a solution he doubted the sphinx considered given how disjointed from time she was.

“Ha. I’ve no need for guards, though I will not turn them away. As to findings or donations, we shall see if there is much of note.” Meskhenet said almost dismissively before a shake of her head. “Well, who knows, maybe you will find something. Still what will be the manner in which I continue from here or what the DWMA wishes of me? Surely by now something has occurred to you three?”

Charlotte was about to speak. She felt the group was going in circles. The world was so different from the one that Meskhenet knew that the sphinx genuinely might not have been able to come up with a proper answer for what she wanted to do. There was so much more in the world today than there was when the sphinx was last free. In her last era walking the world, there wasn’t even true knowledge on how large it was. How vast the oceans. The ice-capped poles or the entire other half of the world. It was not just technology that the sphinx lacked, but context for the world as it was. What she gleaned in her brief time soaking in knowledge was but the tip of the iceberg.

Asad dropped her. He reached out for her shoulder and briefly established a connection to her. He was a Death Scythe and she a Meister, after all. After a brief moment, Charlotte nodded. She conceded the floor to him.

“Meskhenet, I have a suggestion,” Asad replied, more formal and assertive than his previous exchanges with her. “I believe it may be in the best interest of yourself, humanity, and the DWMA to take some time to learn more about this new world before a decision is made as to how to proceed. With that in mind, I would offer you a place within the African Branch of the DMWA where you could research topics of interest under the banner of the DWMA while you learn more about the world in general. Here in Cairo, we have an academy where we provide education to students of all levels. We could even create a curriculum for you that starts at your knowledge and expands with known human history, the sciences, so on and so forth. You can catch up with all you have missed and apply yourself to ongoing research as well. Then, once you know more of the world, we can reconvene and discuss again what you may want to do,” Asad explained, calmly and rationally applying logic to his offer. He didn’t wish to offend, but it was hard to dance around the elephant in the room: Meskhenet was still quite ignorant to the world. That was an easily-mended problem.

“Hmm…” Pondering what they had to say, Meskhenet looked at them for a few minutes, as if weighing the decision, or the option before her, pondering what she had just seen, her eyes narrowed at the Meister and Weapon pair. “Something akin to you reminds me of a witch, a curious thing, Death’s hand must have been at work here. Or was it another and he simply made use of it?” A curious question. The defenses meant to contain her had all been too easily swept aside. Be it of ignorance or skill.

“I am not much of one for this form. It is better to have the power and grace of four legs, than the clumsy nature of man on two. Be that as it may, the Anpu aren’t the only ones that can shapeshift into a glamor. Hahaha. Praise me, sons of man.” She said a bit too proud as emitted a faint glow that then obscured her whole lower body, before shrinking upon itself, four legs and an extended and quadruped torso became a two legged human’s, with an hourglass figure that matched well with her top, the golden decorative bands that rested upon her lion form, now rested upon her hips, white loincloth covering her front and rear, and a pair of sandals fitting the theme. One could mistake her for a monster cat, until they looked at her soul, or noticed her tail and ears were those of a lion.

“I of course will change to my native form when not around you all in your place of work and study unless requested. This is most strange. But ah, we have an agreement. Yes?”

“Yes”, Kidd replied. “I do believe we do.”

RedArmyShogun The Regal Rper

 

[Sir Les Paul]

A Lesson in Greenseeing
Patchwork Labs​

1112 | September 24th, 2067​

The Patchwork Lab was a far cry from the house of experimental horrors it was during the era of its original inhabitant (and perhaps most famous), Dr. Franken Stein. It was still the large, gray building atop a stone foundation, but it was more lively. More modern. It retained the massive stone walls, stitchwork aesthetic, and arrows, but had been expanded and added to, making its harsh lines appear more modern. The structure underwent four or five total renovations before Franken Stein even passed it on, so it was really a ghost of its former self.

Probably for the better given the depressed state it was in while that Stein performed his experiments in his lonesome or dealt with the drama of being paired with Spirit Albarn.

After his marriage with Marie, even the Doctor knew it was time for a change. The plain, barren yard with half-dead trees was cleared, replaced with an actual green range of grass and shrubs. Admittedly, it was an odd size. The whole lot was massive, able to fit a swimming pool, tennis field, large open lot of grass, and a second building all in the back while still making room for what must have been at least a home of multiple stories and somewhere between four and five thousand square feet, give or take some due to the odd design choices of the original building.

It really should have been renamed the Stein Manor–or something to that effect. It had been renamed before. At one point, it was the Stein Research Institute, but it hadn’t really been that since Davis took over most R&D for the DWMA with the advent of Magitech. It was entirely residential at this point; only being the family home of the Stein family. Calling it the Patchwork Lab was a misnomer. Just a label of a bygone era.

Regardless, it was a famous, historical place within Death City. A location Elly found herself in. Given it wasn’t some open-tour museum but instead an actual, functional residence, one only got this treatment through an actual invite or blood relation.

It was also a place where the atmosphere was still clearly a fusion of different elements. Try as they might, turning a madhouse of a research institute into a modern era home did leave some odd aesthetic choices. Most of the stone-stitchwork was covered with greenery or vines, but it was still there. In some places, the new additions worked well in hiding the older appearance of it being a clinic, but there were just some weird things that couldn’t be hidden. Then again, Franken Stein was a madman. It made sense his historical home couldn’t ever be truly made normal.

Of all places for the two to be, Fredrick had asked her to the tennis court. It was a fairly standard home tennis court, though nicer than some as it was actually fenced and built upon a textured concrete. Painted lines and all. Of all the places in the DWMA to train with its top agent, their backyard probably wasn’t the first place to come to mind. But, here Elly was, just a hundred or so feet away from an old tire swing where Fredrick, Ulysses, and Astila all swung in their youth. What a time.

Probably made only further confusing by the orange tennis balls and actual tennis rackets Fredrick brought with him.

Fredrick slung the bag he carried over his shoulder into the chain link fence that surrounded the tennis field, causing only a slight clank as the fabric of the bag pressed against it. In everything from his personal atmosphere to the aura of his soul, he was unlike Ulysses. The only thing they shared was the trademark potency a Stein Soul had. It wasn’t quite like a true Strong Soul, but it was remarkable nonetheless.

Elly had technically seen the souls of three now: Fredrick, Ulysses, and now briefly Astila. In some form or fashion, each one of them left their own impression. Astila was the easiest: she had a Primal Fire Soul. Even those without the greatest Soul Perception could pick up on that. The real dichotomy was between Ulysses and Fredrick. Ulysses, a soul she was very familiar with, had a soul that seemed to seep into the very words he said when he was in person. Charismatic, charming, and still talented as demonstrated by trademark ability to play an instrument with soul sutures as strings.

Fredrick was something different. Absolute control. His soul was as still as that of a Hoshi, but it was not silent. He did something different. Like a stream of water in laminar flow, it appeared still solely because he found the perfect rate to make it move. It did not pulse, though wavelength did flow through it. Not a single ounce of it was wasted. There was no outline of his wavelength or harsh transition from his soul. His wavelength had a perfect gradient from his soul and no feathered edges. His control was so passively perfect that it seemed manufactured.

Yet, he was not the one sculpted from clay.

Though, he was sculpted. The family resemblance to Ulysses was uncanny. The Stein genes ran strong. While he was nowhere near as muscular as Starwulf or Herakles, Fredrick possessed a fair amount of hidden muscle mass under his pressed, white shirts, and if he ever removed them, he would have proven deceptively tone for his lithe build. Unlike his cousin, though, commentary on his physique would have been ultimately detrimental. He didn’t possess the same drive or interests, nor did he entertain them.

”Last time, it was just mana sensing,” Fredrick said in a dull, uninterested tone.

”This time, it’s the Fae and some Legendary Hoshi assassin?” he asked, though his question was half-rhetorical. He expected her to confirm, but his raised eyebrows and tone of voice carried his contempt fairly well. Somehow, Fredrick bypassed the use of sarcasm to convey his displeasure; he could let it seep directly into his words without diluting it at all. A true talent.

”More or less,” Elly replied with a polite smile. Frederick she arguably felt the most uneasy around out of the three. While less likely to kill her than Astilla would be, simply the nature of his soul and severe difference in stature was eerie to her. On top of that, his personality was quite stoic, which Elly didn’t mind, but it didn’t help when combined with everything else.

Still, he was a treasure trove of improvement Elly wouldn’t pass up if she had the option to, regardless of whether he saw her as a nuisance or whatever else.

”I believe being able to interpret signatures of the Fae may be useful, given my interaction with some in Wales,” Elly stated, her eyes trailing to the tennis supplies. ”As for the assassin, I’m not entirely sure what is exaggerated and what isn’t, but I presume you of anyone would know how to reach that level… and if I can train my eyes to such a stature it would present quite an advantage, no?” She asked rhetorically.

Fredrick scowled, inadvertently twitching the left side of his mouth back as he listened to Elly drone on. With some amount of willpower, he allowed Elly to finish; it just wasn’t easy.

“I can confirm Fumiko☆Hoshi was an actual individual and her exploits are primarily factual,” he replied flatly, “furthermore, I know it is possible to recreate the specific skill she used by the fact I already have. I simply cannot recreate her range as such is only possible for someone with your gift.”

Fredrick was condescension incarnate. A type of self-righteous arrogance bled into every word he uttered. Worse, it was all effortless. He spoke in a slower cadence than one might expect a professor, leaving those listening to hang on the ends of his words. Which would have been dull given their delivery if not for the sheer absurdity of the content.

Fredrick crossed his arms, his left hand pinching into his sleeve. He stared down at her, assessing her. Unlike most men, those blue eyes of his were not enjoying her appeal; she was little more than livestock to him. In the end, he closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

“You–like most–misunderstand the nature of Soul Perception. It is because Soul Studies is structured as a class with the goal to teach you practical skills instead of absolute theory. It is a vile practice, in my opinion, steeped more in military goals than it is academic value,” Fredrick told her, again just speaking at her and this time allowing venom to coat his words as he aimed them at the very institution of the DWMA for the way it taught.
“Given the issue is systemic, I will not fault you for it–but we will be mending it before we move on,” he told her, at least giving her some idea of what was to come next. Which he then entirely ripped away by providing her the following instruction:

“In the most objective way you can manage, please describe the skill of Soul Perception as you understand it. Then, describe how or why Super Soul Perception is different.”

There it was, the ever-continuing condescension. Elly did wonder what was going through his head sometimes, being asked to train someone in the delinquent program. Regardless, Elly didn't appear to take it to heart or even absorb the sentiment at all. It washed over and passed her. She softly hummed, predicting to be told she was wrong. Likely he was only asking to know where to begin correcting her.

“Soul Perception allows for the sensing of souls and their characteristics as well as fluctuations. Super Soul Perception is more potent and capable of seeing through techniques made to obstruct the soul, such as Soul Protect, and can analyze a soul or other signatures such as madness to a greater detail and range,” Elly replied, giving a rather textbook synopsis as if she were being called upon in a classroom before going quiet for the impeding correction.

There was no fluctuation from Stein. The silent disappointment he felt was perfectly countered by his understanding that the educational system set in place hadn’t just failed Elly, but nearly every DWMA student, and now were coming back to burn him by forcing him to teach this girl such remedial facts. It wasn’t enough that he was teaching someone so ignorant, she was part of the F.A.T.E. Program which he–much like Cyrus–opposed. There were layers to his disdain of the situation.

A short exhale through his nostrils, flaring in the most minor way possible.

“A mundane explanation, but it is what I have come to expect,” Fredrick replied, expending no energy on hiding his disappointment and disdain. Really, though, it was a feeling of defeat. He had been pushing to revamp the educational material for years, but hadn’t won ground yet. The most common pushback being that agents only needed to know it enough to make it work, then practice it. Longer, more detailed explanations involving what occurred in the body and the specific details about how their abilities worked wasn’t even worth putting into an optional textbook, in their opinion.

Essentially, if there were any more lore, no one would read it.

“Soul Perception is actually a series of interconnected skills being trained in different practical ways. Soul Perception is more of an umbrella term that grossly fails to describe the mechanics of enhancing our visual prowess,” Fredrick told her, shifting over to a more neutral tone. It still carried his typical distaste, but it wasn’t targeted at her. Just the failings of the educational system.

“There are three fundamental components of Soul Perception–only two of which do the vast majority of Meisters ever learn to train. These components are relatively easy to understand; they’re directly related to the organs you see with: your eyes, your optic nerves, and your brain. Using your wavelength, you amplify and alter how these three components work together: the result is Soul Perception,” he told her, giving her the base facts of the skill.

“With Super Soul Perception, it is true that your eyes–the organs themselves–are different, but so is your brain and optic nerve. If you were to transplant your eyes into another person, they would not gain your abilities. Since there is no surgery that would allow someone to swap your orbital lobe for theirs, it is impossible to recreate Super Soul Perception. In short, one piece is worthless without the entire system,” he went on, continuing his lecture.

“The eyes of most individuals that are spiritually-sensitive can naturally perceive wavelength or spiritual energy. When you begin training your Soul Perception, you flood your eyes with wavelength. However, most do this so early that their control over their wavelength is so weak that they ultimately flood their optic nerve and orbital lobe with wavelength, too. This leads to them not only becoming more sensitive to spiritual energy, but also activates the part of their brain that can interpret it. Thus, standard Soul Perception is more accurately defined as the ability of the brain to decipher the signals sent to it from the eyes as they perceive spiritual energy in the form of visual information. This same system remains true for other means of perceiving spiritual energy, be it smell or sound,” he told her, continuing more and more to sound like a professor, although he most definitely sounded more professional and detailed than any of the Soul Studies professors at the DWMA. It might have been hard to believe, but Fredrick was truly passionate about the education of Meisters.

“With this new knowledge, I’ll reframe the training for perceiving magic. What I did was expose you to very strong sources of mana until your eyes could perceive it. However, as you can attest, how your eyes perceived it was very poor at first. During your first exposure to strong magic, I had you flood your eyes with wavelength. This is standard. The addition of flooding the back of your head with wavelength afterwards to help perceive the flow mana was an alteration I added to account for the fact the occipital lobe needed development to further process what it was seeing,” Fredrick told her, explaining in a very simplified manner why they went through their training during their previous session. It was odd, but it worked. And, he never explained the theory behind it. This time, he did.

“Unfortunately, there is no Fae present that can help with the Green, but we do have these handle tennis balls. They are made of a material that can absorb faint traces of the Green, and the rackets happen to be made from old wood forest that were once enchanted with it. You may be playing all day, but eventually, you will see the Green inside them, and that will start the cycle of training,” he told her, though he immediately lifted his hand up in a gesture to halt her. He didn’t want her to move on just yet.

“You asked about Fumiko☆Hoshi and I will answer. She did not only train her eyes, but she trained her brain and optic nerve. It is a somewhat risky and difficult form of training that requires a large amount of precise wavelength control. However, if done over time, it allows the Meister to perceive and decipher visual information faster. In short, you see things faster than someone else. In the story where Fumiko felled Musashi, it is said he was far more powerful and in fact faster, but could not land a blow. This makes sense as it parallels my own experience. There are delays in the use of your wavelength, downtimes in its fluctuation. By accurately reading those and understanding the human body, you can react to even the twitches of a muscle before it moves if you watch it closely. Combined with the skill of literally it faster, you can create the illusion of predicting movement by reacting either before or as other movements are made,” he told her, finally revealing what was to be one of the most advanced feats of Soul Perception ever. One, per his claim, he could recreate.

Elly tilted her head subtly as he spoke. It was a more in depth explanation than anything she recalled in the EAT program, however it made sense logically speaking. The eyes didn't simply see vision on their own, they used retinas and the brain. The eyes merely took in information that needed to be deciphered. Conversely, soul perception would work the same way.

Giving a nod to show she understood, Elly took a few steps forward. She presumed the tennis balls, while effective, were a way for Frederick to teach her while also spending as little of his time with her. Thus, if she wanted to achieve the same training as Fumiko and he, she needed to get direction now.

“That makes sense, all of it. However, I would appreciate a similarly detailed explanation as to what this risky training entails.” Elly stated, more stoic than upbeat. “If I need to train my wavelength control, then I will… but I need to get there.”

“To be frank,” Fredrick replied with an immediate and cutting response, “you are leagues away from the type of wavelength control that would be necessary. Simply flooding parts of your body with wavelength isn’t only inefficient, it’s ineffective.” Rude, but true. Even truer when put into context with what he was going to suggest next.


“There is a training method that requires you to channel your wavelength from one hand to another via spiritually-conductive materials. On the day you can maintain your wavelength inside a string of no thicker than one millimeter and at least a foot long for one hour while making it match your natural wavelength perfectly, I will at least show you the fundamentals to build up to the skill,” he explained, giving her very specific requirements to attain further training. A huge demand, larger than she even knew given she didn’t know the difficulty of the training in mind. It was beyond what Starwulf even had Annika perform.

Elly looked up at the man with an undeterred expression, mulling over his words. It wasn't what she wanted, however it was a direction. Even with aversion, Frederick gave her a clear step by step process to reach the goal in mind. “String one millimeter width, one foot length, one hour timespan. Maintain and match my normal wavelength through it perfectly,” Elly repeated the criteria with a smirk, holding her hand out as if to offer a shake, though it was more to indicate she took his words as seriously as a contract and expected performance in exchange for her own. “I do hope you know I will absolutely hold you to that~” She chimed.

Fredrick stared at her for a moment, seeing her outstretched hand. His eyes darted down to her hand, then back to her eyes, then down to her hand, then up to her eyes. Her words became a blur, nothing but fuzziness in his ears. Finally, in the most incredulous possible voice, he asked, “the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

Elly tilted her head a bit at that. “...A handshake?” Elly asked if it were obvious before clasping her hands behind her back. “You could always just decline instead of looking at me like I'm mad. My feelings won't get hurt that much,” She added with the subtle hints of a pout.

“Just get a racket,” Fredrick replied, spitting the words out of his mouth like blood after a boxing match. He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the comments made by Elly and didn’t intend to. Her feminine wiles had no effect on a man that had no desire to touch or be touched. That attitude of hers had the same chance of prying any guilt from him. She could either train or sit there pout, and if she did the latter, she could get the Hell out of his yard.

Meanwhile, Fredrick opted to grab the other racket from the bag he brought and a tube full of orange tennis balls. He then made his way over to the side of the court. This would work best with two people, otherwise, he would have gladly just had her hit these at all until she wasn’t blind.

“Ironically touchy,” Elly mused, seemingly not taking offense to the remark as she made her way over to the stock of equipment and picked up a racket for herself. It was hard to tell at a glance if that was just a response to her or a general one. She expected a comment or to be ignored even, but that reaction was as if she carried the plague and sneezed in his meal. Perhaps she would ask Ulysses if Frederick was always this prickly.

After acquiring her racket, she strolled over to the opposing side of the court to his. “Your serve then?”

“Indeed,” intentionally and entirely ignoring her commentary.

“Before we begin, you will need to actively be flooding your eyes with your wavelength and maintain that the entire time. Not just activating your Soul Perception, but providing a surplus of wavelength. This will make them more reactive to new forms of energy in front of you,” he told her, making sure he was hyper-specific with not just his word choice but redundant in his meaning. The venom in his voice disappeared, too. It was neutral and bland, but that was an improvement at this point.
He popped the lid off the tube, then stuffed his hand in to grab one of the orange tennis balls. With that, he began pouring his wavelength into his tennis racket, making it come to life. The problem was that it would outglow the green by far. That was the purpose of the tennis ball. It would end up with the green in it via contact with the racket. A whole complex process, but reacting forms of energy from dissimilar forms was always a tedious task.

“With any luck, you’ll start seeing faint traces of the Green in the ball before you exhaust yourself,” he added, pointing out there was a possibility she went home today with nothing more than a little tennis practice. “Just for reference, the Green is called the Green for a reason. It is Green. That is why the ball is orange. The contrast is to help you clearly see. Would be a little stupid to use a bright green ball when looking for a green energy,” he went on, trying to give her the final piece of useful information he could. That, and potentially making the closest thing to a joke she had ever heard from him.

At least he wasn’t one to dwell, or so Elly thought. As instructed, she channeled her wavelength into her head and eyes, enough to activate Soul Perception and then some. She noted the ever-flowing nature of his, like a controlled river, though she noted nothing else yet. Upon providing the surplus he advised, Elly twirled the racket in her hands. “Quite on the nose… Though I suppose it would be more stupid if it were called the Green and looked purple…” She commented to his statement, though she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. “It won’t be luck, I promise you that. Come on, then, let’s see your tennis skills Mr. Stein.”

Stein was not entertained. Elly was treating this as if it were an actual game. As if he should, in fact, be entertained merely by playing tennis with her. He knew enough about the girl from her dossier to be aware this was the exact type of arrogant thing she would believe. Instead of treating him with the respect and formality of a professor, she thought she could behave with frivolity and forfeit proper etiquette. It was a disgrace.

She truly did not fathom her place. She was effectively a nobody receiving training from the foremost Meister in the DWMA.

She was only given this recognition because of a genetic anomaly she was born with and even then probably because she was part of the pet program of Kidd. It was not her looks, her charms, or her wit that got her here.

She had not earned this training and she certainly had not earned the right to speak to him like that.Yet, he had to be the bigger person. The actual adult. The one to just accept orders. The one to fall in line with the bureaucracy.

Despite clearly pouring his wavelength into the racket, he didn’t use it to amplify himself. He didn’t use it to move faster. He didn’t amplify a thing. In all reality, he was holding back. If were to move at the limits of his actual, unamplified state, it likely would still be too much for Elly to handle. Instead, he had to limit himself in even his basic skills.
He tossed the ball up, it filled with his wavelength–though nothing unique could be seen yet–and he struck it, sending it to Elly over the next in what was actually a simple serve. The ball would head over to her at a diagonal angle, bounce once, and in all reality, she had plenty of time to strike it back.

Struck a nerve, it seemed, though nothing showed it save for his soul. That was one thing that Elly could respect and even take some comfort in. Frederick was prickly as all hell, but he was rational. No idiocy or illogical actions based off pure emotion like what the past week had been. Even his serve didn’t have any animosity or amplification, it was normal. He wasn’t trying to slap her around through tennis or give her a hard time. He was trying to optimally educate her.

“I am a bit curious,” Elly trailed off as the ball came her way, her eyes tracing it. Unsurprisingly, she saw nothing green yet. Elly kept her wavelength flowing to her eyes as she moved to intercept, smacking the ball with her own racket where it was sent over to his side and bounced. It wasn’t a particularly hard swing, nor one that was restrained, though undoubtedly was still probably in slow motion for him. “How much of my soul are you able to read given the nature of it?” She pondered, a simple yet genuine question.

“All of it,” Stein replied. His words were quick, cutting, and purely matter-of-fact. Ruthlessly efficient, much like his retort to her swing. While his pace wasn’t exactly a walk, it was still a relatively slow waltz over to where the ball would be headed. He could afford to go at this slower pace because he started earlier; in fact, he began almost at the same time Elly had angled her elbow to strike the ball with the racket.

“I have dealt with various Distorted Wavelengths in the past. Annoying though they may be, they become predictable once you know what is causing them. In your case, it is a unique soul type. You don’t even know how to control it, so deciphering yours was simple. It only took a few minutes the first time we met,” Stein continued, answering the question in more detail with his trademark condescending tone. Arrogance painted every word he said, but deservedly so. Even Kisei required a few days before they could communicate and weeks before resonance.

His backswing on the ball was a perfect execution. He sent it to the corner opposite to Elly, forcing her to run across the field. It bounced low, too, annoyingly so, leaving it only a few inches above the ground for her to respond. Stein obviously knew the game well, though such made sense; he had this court in his childhood backyard.

Elly hummed at that. It wasn’t all that surprising, more so affirmed what she already expected and justified limited use of the scarab. ”Several minutes…” She trailed off, moving to the other side of the court with a bit more pep to catch the ball. Elly extended her arm out to smack the ball back over the net at a high arc.

“So I could learn how to make it more annoying?” She asked, undeterred by his continued condescension, as she maneuvered back towards the center.

A wide arc meant the ball would take that much longer to hit the ground. Stein would thus need to relocate himself to the new angle of trajectory, but in fact this time wait for it to bounce exactly once before giving it a return swing. Of course, he could have just tried to intercept the ball before it hit the ground–thus scoring a point–but he wasn’t here to win. He was here to train the girl.

“I would wager that you don’t even know what it is about your soul that distorts your wavelength,” Fredrick replied. If the man was anything, it was consistent. His tone was neutral, matter-of-fact, yet still managed to remain somewhat demeaning. “The largest majority of agents I encounter do not endeavor to learn more about their abilities. We live in the era of the highest recorded rates of new soul types and unique wavelengths, yet the common man does not deem it necessary to ask why. Or, to understand what occurs in their very soul,” Stein commented, his distaste for ignorance made opaque.

Elly watched him strike the ball and mosied over to strike it again after it bounced. ”Well, you would wager mostly correct,” Elly replied matter of factly, holding the racket idly behind her back. “I did inquire and endeavor to learn, however I was only given minimal instruction. What has been iterated to me is that it’s like a television with poor signal. It doesn’t hide my soul entirely, but it does prevent onlookers from discerning intent, emotions, lies, or techniques,” She stated rather simply as she looked over to him.

Elly was quite the good student back when she was in EAT. It wasn’t a matter of her lazing about or coasting, but simply that she didn’t have access to the same resources she did now ironically. She did ask why, though was met with unknowns.

“If you can enlighten me, I would very much appreciate it,” Elly chimed with a slight tilt of her head.

He scoffed. Not only at her, but at the ignorance of the system that was supposed to support her. This type of lackluster provision of information was exactly why he fought so religiously for reform. The education set in place hadn’t been updated in nearly a century with the current, former structure being set in place directly following World War II. Like Elly, it needed rebuilt from the ground up.

Fredrick opted this time for an underhand swing. Instead of it flying directly back at Elly, it shot into the air in a wide arc, going so far into the sky that it was but a black dot against the sun. At this point, it wasn’t even clear if it would land back on the court. Given it was hit by a Stein, it was safe to assume it most certainly would.

“Your soul type is named after the apparent effect it causes with total irreverence to how it achieves said effect,” Fredrick told her, not immediately providing the answer. Then again, given how high he hit that ball, he didn’t need to.

“Your soul is actually extremely sensitive to fluctuations in spiritual energy around you,” Fredrick began, deciding to yet again provide another lecture, “and because of that, your wavelength reacts haphazardly to create a constantly variable outer layer. That outer layer makes your wavelength appear to be distorted, hence why your wavelength is considered Distorted, but it is unlike most Distorted wavelengths in that only the outermost layer is so difficult to read.”

The ball reached its peak.

“You can learn to entirely clear up those distortions via learning full-body Wavelength Control. Annoying though it may be, you would gain a marginal boost in total spiritual power as you would no longer be passively wasting approximately ten percent of your spiritual energy on that outer layer. Inversely, you could experiment with changing your wavelength output via Soul Suppression. Given how sensitive your soul is, suppressing even a small fraction will completely change the distortions in your soul. Essentially, it would be akin to hitting the reset button on your Soul Signature… and it wouldn’t even be that detrimental to a partner you’re familiar with–if at all,” he continued, trailing off near the end with a considerably slowed cadence.

For a reason. The ball was coming down and he timed just when it would be entering visual range. In that exact moment, Stein flared his wavelength tremendously. In many cases, a powerful wavelength being flared was compared to a fire. Zosar or Aki with their volatile souls made for huge, intense flames. Nadia and Dani resonating made for a more singular, potent pyre. Gauss with Noah and Arky was often akin to a bonfire, larger in raw volume. But, Stein? He was blinding. Not as large, but wildly more intense. If her peers were earthly flames, then Stein was a solar flare.

“So it’s like a television…” Elly replied, simplifying his explanation, though he did bring up some interesting points. She could go either way, learning to remove it which would allow her to go all out to the detriment of being able to be read, or she could train in soul suppression and learn to constantly reset her wavelength to prevent people like Stein from piecing it together. That, or at least make them have to decipher it again.

And she had a Hoshi for a partner.

A cheeky smile grazed her face, probably looking more arrogant and smug than intended. However, Elly genuinely was just excited to have a roadmap. Plus, that path of learning would undoubtedly make it safer for her to use the scarab. Plus, it would have no detriment to a partner, so all resonance techniques would work as normal.

However, then Frederick had to go and ruin that smile. She was starting to wonder if he, like Cyrus, was simply allergic to a good mood. Elly saw the flash coming late as her eyes turned up in preparation of the ball. By the time she really processed it, it was too late and like she stared at a flashbang. With her Super Soul Perception on, it just made the whole thing worse.

Elly yelped, curled forward and immediately brought her hands to her eyes as they shut closed. The ball unsurprisingly came down and bounced, and bounced, and so on until it dribbled to a roll. The whine quickly turned into unamused grumbling, however.

“...You enjoy yourself with that one?” She asked with none of the sarcasm hidden from her tone.

“No damage was done to your actual eyes; everything from your pupils to the rods and cones in the peripheral backwall of your eye may be scathing, but there is no damage,” Stein told her, flatly and matter-of-fact. It was a non-answer and entirely unapologetic. “Experience in alternate perception training indicates that this type of unexpected sensory shock is highly conducive to broadening the range of your vision. The theory is that it is a survival response of the body with the goal of potentially perceiving unseen threats,” Stein explained, yet again, making his decision more practical than emotionally-driven.

It wouldn’t have been nearly as effective had he warned her. Elly had to parse whether she believed it and thought this man to simply be secretly malicious or callous in his methods. He hadn’t tried something like this when she learned magic, but he had various other resources to assist with training.

In any case, he allowed a moment for Elly to rest. Her eyes wouldn’t take long to bounce back from the initial pain. Reality was that the actual stimuli she felt did not originate in the tissue of her eyes, but instead was created by the brain to avert her gaze in a similar vein to diverting eyes from the sun. In all reality, it caused her no physical pain and her eyes wouldn’t have taken any real damage from staring at such an intense source of spiritual energy. The human body just ultimately happened to be a weird amalgamation of unique traits. This being one of them.

“Your serve,” he told her, not wanting to delay further training. Not only for the sake of his time, but because there was a significant chance that her eyes were primed for picking up new sensations.

Elly grumbles, but she didn’t believe that Frederick would waste his time just to do harm for the sake of it. He was likely being truthful and wanted to avoid her instinctive adjustment or preparation to the flare had he warned her. At least, that was what Elly chose to tell herself. She rubbed her eyes a bit more. “So it’s to help me see the Green faster?” She simplified once again.

With a light sigh, she strolled over to the fallen pall and picked it up before tossing it onto the racket like an egg into a pan. She bounced the ball up and let it fall before bouncing it up again and so on as she made her way back to the court. After hitting the ball up a bit higher, Elly cocked her arm back and smacked the ball on its way down, this time at a more narrow angle with the ground, gliding just over the netting. Her eyes traced the ball, looking to see if Frederick’s pseudo prank was as helpful as he claimed.

Unfortunately, Elly wouldn’t ever gain enough data to know if it truly helped. It was clear that she didn’t get immediate results. However, she did get results and said results came far, far sooner than the projections made by Stein. During their exchange, he claimed it could take upwards of days of this before her eyes adapted at all. Once they adapted and did so soon, he was quick to attribute her success to her Super Soul Perception. It wasn’t clear if this was an objective assessment or an attempt to cover up his misjudgement. Even Elly couldn’t sleuth her way to that answer.

“Now that we know you can see the Green, the process is virtually identical to how I taught you to see mana,” Stein told her. It was straight and to the point. He didn’t mention a break or slowing down, just the next step. At the very least, it was a simple step. Slightly different this go around given that the only source of Green present was the little ball. Options were more limited and having Elly split her attention for the next task would be counterproductive.

Stein extended the racket and balance the ball onto it, pouring his wavelength into the racket and subsequently filling the ball with minor traces of the Green.

“I’ll give you a moment to return your wavelength to normal,” Fredrick told her. This of course was the first step to the next step. She couldn’t be flooding her eyes anymore. Just like she did when learning to see mana, she now needed to pour selective bits of wavelength into her eyes, using very fine control to create small frequencies of her wavelength, until one of them resulted in the Green becoming clearer. From there, she just had to tweak it and memorize the specific band of wavelength she used. It wasn’t unlike how an optometrist went through various lenses to evaluate the vision of a patient.

“The Green is a much slower form of energy. I would suggest starting with your slowest wavelength, then work up,” he instructed, giving her a piece of information that could only be achieved via experience. There was no purpose in withholding it from her. While he was all for education, it was only when said education served a purpose. There was no purpose in having Elly go through the agonizingly slow process of controlling her wavelength to tune this ability to this specific energy source–she would either get the skill, or she wouldn’t. Worst case scenario would be that she lacked sufficient wavelength control to filter the Green clearer, but Stein doubted that. If she could tune her vision up to the mana range, she could likely downtune it for Green.

Elly didn’t prod as to how quickly she caught on to the green. Rather she simply took that as some minor achievement that she adapted so quickly, regardless of if he was underestimating her or simply that the few days estimation was some kind of average. Her little smile did return though, as it was before he flared his soul.

As asked, she stopped the overflow of energy into her eyes and her wavelength returned to baseline. Then she began as instructed, focusing her wavelength into her eyes and, much akin to when she learned to detect mana, began altering the output and flow. Frederick’s suggestion was a good one, and so she went with it. Elly began with a very slow drum and fine-tuned it, her eyes squinting ever so slightly as the fuzzy green blob became clearer in focus. “...You’re right… it is quite lethargic…” She mused in agreement as she honed in on the signature.

“The Green is not mana or wavelength,” Fredrick answered, deciding now to provide her with some more detailed information on the energy. Flat in affect and tone, but efficient in the delivery of his message. “It doesn’t behave like either. With mana, there is a personal version that most Witches use. It is as unique to them as their soul signature. While some siblings or families evolved to use their personal mana interchangeably, it is not a standard practice. Only a handful of Witches possess the magical ability to use the mana of another. The Green is entirely different. It is a shared force. It doesn’t change form or become inert upon use. The Green one Fae uses will be the same energy another does. Because of that, it also links all beings it connects with. In that way, it is closer to wavelength or spiritual energy; it can passively link what it connects. It has been known that even locations, such as rivers or a specific mountain or stone, may have their own type of sentience through the Green. That same phenomenon can be seen in ancient human tribes, customs as recent as Paganism, and of course Earth Shamans… which means the planet likely always has a will of its own, just that the Green allows you to connect to it. In any case, that’s not as important as this next part: users of the Green are extremely sensitive to Madness. Madness does not care if it catches a ride on magic, wavelength, or the Green as it hops from Soul to Soul. As you might imagine, that’s the problem for a force that intrinsically connects the minds and hearts of those that use it.”

A lengthy lecture, but by the time he had finished, Elly had also. After significant trial and error, she had gotten her perception of the Green to roughly as accurate as she could, within at best a few percent margin she could later hammer out. The Green as an energy was fairly straight forward, much simpler than wavelength or mana. It was merely a faint green, almost like a fog, with no coursing or pulsing present. It also seemed much less personal and uniform than mana; or, if anything, it seemed closer to inert mana.

“Makes sense,” Elly nodded along. Thinking on it, Carys was also quite wary of Wren. While it would’ve made sense that she was wary of the wolfish aspect, perhaps it was actually the madness that caused her concern. “The Fae we dealt with didn’t seem to care for Wren much, a werewolf with madness,” She stated her thoughts as her eyes finished adjusting.

Blinking a bit, the Green was clear, if not foggy. “Got it. Almost mist-like… So, what’s the next step, then?”

“It is possible that they were leery of her Madness,” Stein responded flatly, “it is also possible that they had some type of aversion to werewolves, canines, or something as fickle as her reminding them of someone they once knew. Almost all Fae are capricious at best and unreasonable at worst. In my experience, too, most are antiquated; they learned archaic mannerisms decades to centuries ago and don’t adapt well to newer ways. Younger Fae, however, tend to be more reasonable; a combination of shorter lifespans and often being lower in the pecking order.” Yet another lengthy explanation, but packed to the brim with information–even if some of it was more opinionated.

With that, the Meister turned to his tube full of orange balls and procured a new one. This one had never been filled with the Green, thus had no radiant glow to it. With the new ball, he returned to the court, but this time walked over to Elly. The time for playing games was over. This go around, he lifted the tennis racket with his left hand and held the ball away from it a few inches with his right. He was already channeling his wavelength into the racket, but it was slow. Slow enough that the energy it was generating wasn’t immediately visible to Elly yet.

“You can see the Green, you can filter the Green to see it clearly, but now you need to train your brain to see how it moves and flows. It is not the same as wavelength or mana. I cannot train you to see how it is used; you’ll have to do that on the fly or find a Fae willing to help,” he told her, though not yet explaining to her precisely what to do. That came next: “Activate your eyes, make them clear, then take that exact frequency you use as a filter for your eyes and put it in your brain. Do not flood it, just put in enough to fill the back of your skull. If you do it right, you should start to see the flow of Green.”

Elly nodded along with Frederick’s input on the Fae, his viewpoints mostly aligning with her own thoughts, though she had nary the experience or knowledge to base them upon. It was also interesting that he seemed to give them less of the benefit of the doubt that Ulysses, though that wasn’t all that surprising. “So if I have to deal with Fae, try to barter with the younger ones. That is good to know,” She mused in response as she pressed the head of the racket against the ground while her hands sat on the pommel, akin to a cane.

But of course, if she wanted to fully learn this, it would rely on her interaction with Fae. Elly sighed internally, but for now, she could at least learn this. Given her experience with them, learning on the fly was the most probable route.

“Alright… Don’t flood it,” Elly repeated as she activated her Soul Perception. Then she did as instructed, recalling the frequency previously used to screen the signature and filling that into her head. Her brows furrowed a bit as she held the frequency in the back of her head without flooding more wavelength into it.

This bit of training required the most tedium. Even more so than when she filtered her eyes to clearly see the Green, trying to apply that same filter to her brain where it was being processed was a different level of difficulty. Not only did her control need to be precise in frequency, but in volume. The delicate balancing act only grew more delicate. Even if she succeeded today, it didn’t mean she would combat-ready any time soon. That was clear.

It would take plenty of practice to be able to passively perceive this energy. It was the same with mana, but mana perception was more forgiving. Mana flowed faster than wavelength and far faster than the green. Not only that, mana was variable; it had plenty of types and flavors. Essentially, it was a much wider band. Easier to maintain. Comparably, perceiving mana was like practice for trying to perceive the Green.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into an hour. While Fredrick was patient, he was getting quite antsy. His precious time was spent just channeling his wavelength into this racket. Elly meanwhile made some progress, but this would be the sticking point for her. It was just out grasp. She could see, almost, tiny, fuzzy bits of energy hop like from the racket to the ball in random bursts like popcorn in a dish. The problem was: that wasn’t accurate. The Green was actually flowing slowly but surely in perfectly even volleys from the racket to the ball, and then it just remained stable. Frederick was only allowing just enough of his wavelength into the racket to make the Green in a volume to make the leap. This was faint, but it was important that it was: Elly needed to see the flow and how it all connected if she was ever going to understand the energy source.

Unfortunately, the fine wavelength control she was performing was becoming taxing on her. Regardless of her skill in super soul perception, her wavelength control was an independent skill. She had an advantage only in that she could see the more nuanced variations of wavelength and try to match them, but she had to practice just as much as anyone else. Now going on multiple hours of this tedious training, it was much like a muscle hitting its failure point. She was becoming sloppy and only worsening her training.

“To be blunt, I didn’t expect you to make it this far,” Fredrick told her, taking note of her faltering wavelength control. One or two small slip ups over time was one thing, but she was beginning to do so with bigger mistakes more frequently. He was quite sure she was hitting her limit.

“With your skill as it is now, you should be able to refine the skill more over time. It seems that the low range of the Green is just outside of your skill. That is nothing that guided control training cannot fix. The dojo would be a better place for that–not my time,” Fredrick told her, giving her a relatively hopeful set of instructions for the next steps. She could break Soul Protect, which was important, but her skill in reading mana only extended to differentiating its types, not necessarily reading a spell. Stein showed he could tell a spell by its element and moderate effect. Given the gap and how long it took her to get where she was with mana, this type of wall was reasonably expected with the Green.

Not only that, Stein had made it clear he wasn’t fond of training core skills like this. It just so happened that he was one of only a handful of people–even in Death City–that could even use the skill to begin with.

“I will teach you the theory we have behind the Green–as it pertains to an energy source. We do not fully understand the Green nor how it achieves some of the effects that it does. It is unlike mana and magic. In the realm of the Fae, the air itself is like a sea of the Green. It is ever-present and all-encompassing. Each Fae is like a bucket that can have a set amount of the Green and that is what they can use in the human realm. The Green, you see, is a lot like water. It was to be even in pressure and will flow from places of high-to-low pressure. It wants to be in equilibrium with all living things. Some Fae have a larger pool, but that pool can never be under pressure or condensed. They have a set amount of energy to work with. What determines their strength is that set amount because Green is not expended or changed in form when it is used. Unlike Witches with mana, the Fae cannot really run out through the act of spellcasting. They do age and the Green fuels their bodies, so the only time they run out is through a natural metabolic process. Because of that, they do need to return to their realm every so often,” Fredrick explained to her, giving her what he hoped would be his final lecture on the subject for some time.

“That is why it is important that you do learn this skill–even if it takes time. The Green only ever shifts and flows. There is much less to read and discern than with mana or wavelength. Reading its flow is the only method of gaining any insight into Fae Magic,” he told her, being quite emphatic on the value of this specific facet of the skill.

Elly made considerably less attempts to hide her frustration or fatigue given who she was with. While her face was pleasant at the start, her brows furrowed and unfurrowed, her eyes narrowed or squinted, her lips pursed and frowned. By the end she did appear to have a scowl that almost rivaled Dani’s. Additionally, she now had a headache.

“So it’s just a matter of practice, then?” Elly hummed as she gave up, the wavelength focused into her eyes and brain dissipating and washing over to meld with her generic wavelength and soul.

The lecture on how the green worked was also interesting. It meant that, unlike when facing a witch, there was no victory through endurance as the Fae’s abilities did not drain their reservoir. Instead it was more akin to an hourglass that needed to be reset by a visit home, or at least that was the picture that popped into Elly’s head.

“Indeed… And given how unstable they are and their rules, it’s really the only way to get any confirmable, concrete information regarding them…” Elly mused in response, agreeing with the skill’s importance. “...It seems I have much to thank you for…”

“Miss Keegan, the Fae are not a race. I would have thought your last encounter with them would have taught you such,” Fredrick responded, almost scolding her for the subtext of her questions. Or, at least the subtext he interpreted.

“Fae is just a title we gave them for our convenience. In truth, there are as many races of Fae as there are magical creatures and at a time our cultures intermingled. They are as diverse as humanity. If you want any hope of actually dealing with the Fae, you must wash away these preconceived notions of little woodland sprites and maleficent fiends,” he explained, “furthermore, when you consider instability, consider just how unstable humanity is. We have no singular authority that governs us nor do we have a binding force. Whether the Fae like it or not, they have both of those things and essentially no power to change it.”

Stein sighed, disappointed. Elly wanted to be appreciated and he destroyed that. Still, these last lessons he was offering were important. “If you wish to thank me, do so for the following lesson: Almost all Fae are natural empaths. It is the nature of the Green–even if you aren’t connected to it. If you start a dialogue with them from the perspective of animosity or distrust, you will offend them more often than not. If you approach them with dignity and respect–especially to those of the Seelie Court–you will often find that reciprocated. You do not have to treat them as human or ignore the threat they pose, but you would be wise to change your mentality so that you treat them as equals,” he told her, his tone echoing a fair amount of finality. What he said–he meant. Emphatically.

There it was. Now he sounded more like Ulysses. “Then which of the many races would you prefer me to refer to when speaking generally?” Elly replied, neutrally, but also internally a bit tiredly, though it would difficult to tell how much arose from the fact she already heard as much or from the extensive training and fatigue. “I am aware of that, and I was not the one who initially upset the Gwyll, nor do I plan to approach any Fae with animosity or with disdain. However, I would be lying if I said I do not hold them to an especial caution given their whimsical nature as well as the mechanisms of their rules,” Elly clarified.

Elly brought the racket up and slung it over her shoulder to deposit it along with the rest of the tennis supplies Frederick brought with him, presuming he would want them back. “And while they do have rules and a governing body, they have also had centuries to think of loopholes. I recall that there is a rule against the general harming of mortals, which is why one uses constructs to attack… Perhaps humanity is no better, however they are far more predictable.”

And therein lay the problem. Elly didn’t like the unpredictable all that much. The Fae were in many ways her antithesis aside from the poor interaction. They had many races under that generalized term with varying abilities and a litany of rules and mechanisms that were not well recorded. Pair that with the same achilles heel that many witches suffered from, blinding arrogance, and it wasn’t very surprising dealing with Fae wasn’t shaping up to be the meister’s favorite activity.

However, it was important that she could.

“Oh, but I don’t intend to sound argumentative. Take it as my fatigue. I do value every bit of information you share with me, especially on a subject I lack almost all information on. I suppose I am still just a tad bitter,” Elly said with a soft exhale before turning to him with the same polite smile as when the began, the mask slipping back on. “So, once again, thank you. Especially since I know you don’t quite care for spending time with me. Any other words of wisdom? Otherwise, I think I’ll give you a break from me and go drown this headache with some medication and tea.”

“This is why I don’t train obstinate fools,” Fredrick retorted, venom in his tone as he intentionally insulted Elly. “There is no reason a tenured professor ought stoop to teaching mere undergraduates…” he added with that same distaste.

”You want words of wisdom, girl? Fine. You would be a fool to believe man is any more predictable than Fae. It is your ignorance that allows you to say that with such confidence. Witch, Fae, Gwyll, man, or beast–it does not matter. Learn their history and you will see that the vast majority of them are creatures of habit. None more dangerous than the other as a whole–only a few outliers are truly ever unpredictable,” Fredrick told her, again, scolding her and delaying her leave. Though, that was about to end.

“Remember, miss O’Quinn, even Eros was once just a man,” he told her, allowing his icy-blue eyes to stare daggers so sharp that might have inspired envy from even Nadia.

Elly restrained a roll of the eyes as she took the insults and scolding with hardly any change in expression. She disagreed, quite greatly. They were unpredictable, or less so than most. Perhaps it was simply as she was more familiar with reading normal souls or even witches than Fae, but that changed little. However, she also knew that argument was rather pointless here. He didn’t care for her opinion or thoughts and he didn’t need to. By the same vein, she was quite content to take the lashings so long as he continued training her.

“I will certainly take that to heart.” Her words were not sarcastic nor otherwise seemingly dishonest. It was simply an appeasing statement intended to avoid further ire whilst acknowledging that she listened. There wasn’t really anything she could say that he would like, so best to keep it short and sweet. “Have a good rest of your evening,” She bid farewell rather neutrally before turning and taking her leave.

EmperorsChosen

 

[RedArmyShogun]

The Missing of the Giant Mountains
Investigative Mission

Local Time: 0600 (6:00 AM) - Date: 09/27/67
Location: Zelezny Brod - Liberec Region - Czech Republic​

While having left at the same time as the other teams, the fact that time zones and datelines advanced the more one went westward towards the international Dateline, meaning that the difference in deployment between the two teams was not as it would seem. It also meant the agents had gotten 5 hours less rest than their compatriots, even with the "night flight". The briefing and mission were given enroute, from Nevada, to Virginia and across to the Azores, Spain, and straight to Prague. For reasons that would become obvious with a glance at the news, the North East's major Airports were closed to Airtraffic.

Having arrived at Prague International, the Team soon found itself going by train as an overseer of the Western Europe Branch in the Czech, German, Austrian region would brief them over vid screen with a cup of tea on his desk as the sun barely peeked over the trees, buildings and scenery that was the Czech capital, climbing upwards and onwards towards the mountains that were formerly known as the Sudetes Mountains shaped the land, pushing all higher and higher, while snow had only fallen on the highest of peeks, the weather, while cold was marginally warmer than the last time Elly had been in Europe as a part of the Gauss team. While it would be nice if they all were up for the briefing, these were pressing times and unusual circumstances, the blonde hair and blue eyed male took no offense to this.

"Gutten Morgen Herr Fraulein. I am Jurgen Wallner. Agent Eloise Keegan, I trust all is well?" The W carrying the normal German infliction of a V in pronunciation.

"I am regional Supervisor of the regions around Bavaria, Bohemia and the Alps, the mountainous regions in Central Europe, we have something of a situation that lines up in principle with what happened in Romania and given politics in the region I rather entrust the investigation of this to your team given its familiarity with the suspected target."

"Over the last few months missing person cases have jumped in the region of Liberec and near the German and Polish borders, bit by bit, nothing too strange, well as far as missing people go... As normal as that can be. There are all sorts of magical creatures in the mountains and forests of the region, ancient traditions, things good and evil have stalked it for a long time. However, the rates of disappearances have increased and our own agents within our internal CIA went missing. Three Weapon and Meister pairs and two Witches were sent in, with recent losses in Belgium the Western European Branch Simply has no one else to spare from other missions. All contact was lost within 48 hours. And when I broached this issue with command, they wished to entrust the matter to yourself and your team.

To which comes the fact why you? Given the nature of the disappearances and communications with "The Colonel" in Russia, I have been tracking transportation routes and what information the locals will share and it seems the Mountains are held to be more dangerous than prior and cargo manifest's versus weight records and it seems some low level of corruption is taking place. To the same tune of the Baroness's actions in Romania and more movement than usual has been spotted at night. It is just a hunch on my end, it in fact may be nothing, but I cannot request the Hunters on a hunch. I also requested the two werewolves on your team, between the three of you, are our best chance at uncovering if my suspicions are correct in an expedient way. Or at the least finding and maybe saving the lost.

Your mission is to find the missing civilians, my missing CIA agents and to stand by for further orders depending on your findings, DWMA Command has agreed to give you three days before other measures are taken. If you cannot find them, any information at all would be welcomed.

The constable of Zelezny Brod, Hanus Kral, may be able or willing to assist, the Czech Republic does not have the criminal problems or nationalism seen in Romania. However, as to not tip off the enemy, should there be one, we've made limited attempts at contacting him and officials in the region. I fear if a larger force is gathered our lead and the missing agents will slip away. Zelezny Brod is a small town, no more than six thousand souls call it home, though, I cannot say how willingly they will help.

Just rest assured, this is not Eastern Europe. If you have questions for me, any of you, about this job, let's have them now. Your train if punctual should be arriving in a matter of minutes. And I rather any further calls to be made when there is a need."

Interactions/Mentions: EmperorsChosen (Elly) Sir Les Paul (Kisei) Merciless Medic (Sara) Pumpkid (Dante) The Regal Rper (Zosar) Haze- (Wren)

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nada Nadia Semyonov - New York City
September 26th​

Paradropping into a death's damned city, are they insane? One mission gone, another set up, and she had none of her previous team members assigned, minus Adrian, but they were intent on keeping the love birds together. It would be amusing to taunt them a little, if only to lighten the mood, but that was not Nadia, though she did try smiling, if her smile could not just be called smug or arrogant, for a woman that frowned all the time, a smile would never look that natural.

She was striving to be less like Zhukov and more like Konev as she once put it to Gauss, but there was nothing in this situation to be happy with. Jumping out of a plane in an urban area, fighting a 92-meter-tall monster, being expected to kill it and a death toll likely in the thousands. She would have rebelled had she not be so loyal or brave. But that did not change that this was something akin to one of those stupid action Hollywood scripts. And these expectations, well, they were something else and if truth be told it was tantamount to a suicide mission. However, it was a suicide run. It was akin to the final stands of the Guard Units of the Russian Army and Naval Infantry in Vladivostok who fought for every inch of ground, for every meter, for everyone home, man, woman and child.

Behind them, or rather what would be in front of them were millions of people, most of whom could not or had not yet leave the city and its rapid attack... How could she inspire them, the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines of the United States had all failed here and multiple forces were converging.

~~~~

Feng Long - New York City
September 26th
​

As the circumstances set in and the absurdity of it all, Feng had a smile upon her face, where as Nadia's was forced, Feng's was not and held a bit of deranged amusement to it, this was not an easy situation, not for any of them, and she recalled the songs she and her Triad brothers and sisters would sing, or of the oaths they swore, of the blood they spilled and had spilt of their own in kind. They needed a bit of gallows humor, there was no way out of it, and the people needed help, there was a China Town here where she was owed a few favors and could treat them all to some good authentic food. Still, a song in Mandrian or Cantonese. But one rather dark one she had picked up from a Korean War Drama that showcased the actions of the PLA and the US Army came to mind, Wes was likely glum with this and that Adrian boy looked wound up tight and to no surprise the crew chief and his two techs in the back joined in adding Chorus to the song as she led off, being fitted for the chute, grabbing at the shoulder of Wes, as if to purposefully signal him out.

Spoiler: Blood on the Risers

He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright
He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight
He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar
You ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

"Is everybody happy?" Cried the Sergeant looking up
Our hero feebly answered, "Yes" and then they stood him up
He jumped into the icy blast, his static line unhooked
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

He counted long, he counted loud, he waited for the shock
He felt the wind, he felt the cold, he felt the awful drop
The silk from his reserves spilled out and wrapped around his legs
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

The risers swung around his neck, connectors cracked his dome
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones
The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

The days he'd lived and loved and laughed kept running through his mind
He thought about the girl back home, the one he'd left behind
He thought about the medic corps and wondered what they'd find
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

The ambulance was on the spot, the Jeeps were running wild
The medics jumped and screamed with glee, rolled their sleeves and smiled
For it had been a week or more since last a 'chute had failed
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna jump no more

He hit the ground, the sound was "splat," his blood went spurting high
His comrades, they were heard to say, "A hell of a way to die"
He lay there, rolling 'round in the welter of his gore
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the 'chute
Intestines were a-dangling from his paratroopers suit
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots
And he ain't gonna jump no more

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die
He ain't gonna jump no more

With the song unfolding, it was interesting to see the reactions of her fellow actions as they unfolded, not that she could process or reflect on them, but the Russian seemed to, calm down a little, though there was something a bit, bemused and snide about it all, the Crew Chief bumped his fist into the airframe's wall. "You'll do just fucking fine! Chinglish aside, you carried that damn song mighty well, if I had a pair of Wings I would give em to yay, so don't go dying now!" With a Tug on the harness, Feng was left to her own devices as the chef moved on to take a look at Adrian and to help Nadia into her own harness.

"Not so bad for a Yankee yourself you know. Still, I can't die here, we all should go to China Town when this is over. I know of a few good places."

~~~~

Relieved a bit by the absurdity of this all, they had to go and they could not die. It was that simple, everything else, including saving others would be done as they went on. With that and her own goals of who to be seen as Nadia stared at the green beret wearing woman, "Oh, is that so? Then we simply must save it. Comrades! Before us is a great beast, one which I will not lie, will test the might of men, but we must overcome it or many more shall fall. We must not fail as we simply cannot. We are the final line of defense, short of a Nuclear strike. I may not care for many things American, but New York City has things I do consider to be of cultural worth. Not to mention, we have a duty to fulfill, and if we fail, I'm sure we'll have a verse added to us.

So, if they are to sing, let it be of our Glory! And for whatever is in China Town when its over!"

"Heh. You're alright too, though thanks for helping us dreadful uncultured swine out, Russkie." The Pilot said in an accent distinct to the Midwest. Before pulling the Harness on Nadia as he reached up to tip toe to see eye to eye. "Watch the Ramp Amazon, you hit your head on the way out and you'll be part of that verse."

"Charming to the last, aren't you Sergeant? I'm afraid you'll find I'm used to accounting for that problem, just tell your pilot to not drop me on a skyscraper. While I would like to see the monster eye to eye, that is a bit much."

With some laughter, the crew chef lowered himself back down and shook his head, going directly to Adrian.

~~~~

"Don't worry Leader, just for you I take you to some place nice yes, show you true culture. And Wes, you and Aki can just hold onto my arms, just transform, see you don't need to jump, only I may go splat heh!" Feng said, running her thumb under her nose and holding a thumbs up with the extended arm. "You make funny Joke, we'll either be Gory or Glory. Reminds me of the old days."

How close were they to the Jump site? No they were already there, Feng would wait for her partners and for Nadia, it was up in the air who would go first, literally.

Interactions: EmperorsChosen (Aki) Sir Les Paul (Adrian) Shotgunpenguin (Wes)

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - JFK International Airport, New York
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

"Uhh...." Was the whine the Demon Sword mustered as she glanced out the window. She already wasn't exactly happy to be going on another mission so soon, more so resigned to it. However, when they were suddenly scrambled to be thrown at what was essentially Godzilla, she became exponentially less happy. Sure the tail packed a punch, but would it really do anything against this thing? Wouldn't that be akin to a poisonous spider biting a human at the very most?

Then there was the fact they were jumping out. Dani didn't really think she was afraid of heights. She had no issues with planes or the like, but she never jumped out of any!

She turned her head from the window to Nadia. She seemed to have been serious about the prospect of smiling more. It was less friendly and more confident, but perhaps that was best. It didn't fool Dani, she knew Nadia thought it was bullshit, but maybe to some of the others it would boost some more. Dani had no interest in feigning optimism for the others. That was Sara's job and, apparently, now Nadia's as well.

Her hand gave an idle squeeze over Adrian's. While Dani typically didn't get very touchy on missions due to the idea of time and place, in the literal sense at least, it gave her some consolation.

Then there were the Chinese duo and their now third, both of which seemed to be smiling. Dani gave them an incredulous look that only twisted to concern as they started singing. She knew the blue one had a bit of a screw loose, but the redhead too? Then again, they seemed to be Nadia's kind of crazy. Pushing that out of her head, she turned to Nadia with an already tired scowl.

"If you drop me, I'll fuckin' kill you."

RedArmyShogun Sir Les Paul Shotgunpenguin

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Aki Kiyoko - JFK International Airport, New York
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

"<Roger~>" Aki cheered in affirmation to Feng's comment, her head continuing to bob along with the song, soft hums escaping her matching the cadence even after it had ended. Her hands tapped along against her lap as her eyes.

Unlike the Demon Sword, the Demon Gun was in much higher spirits. Her soul buzzed excitedly at the prospect of seeing the kaiju, having only heard stories and seen old papers or clips about the one that appeared in Japan. The next closest were, of course, movies which only made her more interested.

"I mean they have to think we can do something, otherwise why send us at all, right?" Aki pondered aloud. Sure, some of her teams had wiped, but it wasn't as if they ran into suicide missions on purpose. She was familiar with the luxury of choosing assignments and had little familiarity with the idea of a state mustering all forces out of sheer desperation, regardless of success chance.

"I mean, I probably won't be able to do much. They probably think your tail can do something, right?" Aki added, tilting her head as she looked at Dani, who glanced back hesitantly.

"I ain't tried to melt something that fucking big though..." Dani murmured sheepishly.

"Plenty of small things are severely toxic to Humans. It'll be fine!" Aki remarked back without a care.

"...I guess... that's true...?" Dani conceded. It was true, but she still didn't like being the scorpion in this scenario.

RedArmyShogun Shotgunpenguin Sir Les Paul

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Zelezny Brod, Czech Republic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Elly took a sip from the coffee in her hands as the supervisor logged on to brief them. She gave him a curt smile, exchanging pleasanties as quickly as possible in order to move along. "Well enough, thank you. Though obviously everything can't be all that grand if we're here," She commented simply. They weren't the type to just be invited to places just for the sake of it, after all.

Listening to his information, it seemed he already had a hypothesis that it was the Baroness. Geographically, they weren't all that far from Romania, so it very well could be her. Abductions escalating out of nowhere, plus at night, though the Baroness's minions didn't need to operate under the moon. Additionally, the fact witches were sent mitigated the chances it's some random magical beast. Even if some wandered the woods, any witches or sorceresses should be more sensitive to detecting them, if not having some knowledge on them.

Still, Elly liked her chances. She was able to see the Baroness's minions like a spotlight, and now they had two werewolves to pick up scent additionally. The local populace would also likely give them less shit. Of course, there was also the possibility it isn't the vampiress and is something else.

"It's a possibility... Tell me, what were the ranks of the pairs and witches you sent? Also, when and where did you lose contact with them?" Elly chimed in first. "I'd also be interested to know what the missing persons last reported to you prior to going dark."

RedArmyShogun Sir Les Paul Pumpkid Merciless Medic The Regal Rper Haze-

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer - Atlantic City - New Jersey​

This level of destruction was awe inspiring, so many had died to a force of nature, so much had been destroyed, lied broken or ruined, what was the point in it all? Looking out the car windows as they came in, she fully went back to being displeased. Her forces had been reduced; she was now in a car driven by a coward. Had the DWMA any sense they would have packed her mobile workshop into a cargo plane and simply allowed her to drive some of them, her heavy truck could withstand these winds that now battered the cars in the distance. They had sent her on a humanitarian mission, asked to rebuild but having to find supplies, useful things would be hard to find and Chanterelle's purpose here was to dissolve some of the ruined and broken things.

It was truly perplexing and aggravating to be stripped so bare, and yet once again, what little time of peace and silence she could have been stolen away. To say she was not in a good mood would be an understatement as she rested her left arm against the side door, gazing out with her head propped against the arm's selfsame hand. In her normal clothing she had brought what was needed for the likely weeklong stay in the Vegas of the East. Having brought a couple changes of outer clothes, daily changes of underwear, what few things she needed for electronics, Maria had brought a number of hand tools and bottles of various alchemic substances that she had not explained the contents thereof.

Unlike Chanterelle there was little in the way of specialist equipment that she needed, and with her mind preoccupied by other things, she reluctantly paid attention to the fish from hell first the Albatross, she was surprised no Condor had found their way here. She was already pondering the nature of what was being seen here, though she would need to pry some more to achieve an understanding of this eco system, ideas already filled her head as they all were ordered to get out of the cars for now and reconvene.

Stepping out, Maria knew one of them had the same family name as another she had bested. Would she need to fear him as well? I would be interesting to see how he reacted to her gift. The gift of the support spell, "Wind Resistance!" She called out loud, having no need to scream her spells, it was done more for the human trio, green auras descended upon them, ethereal energy, wind counteracted wind, a passive scale spell that could deal with all but the worst blasts, conversation could now be carried out in a somewhat peaceful environment.

Interactions: Merciless Medic (Raph-Noah) Meredith (Chanterelle) Sir Les Paul (Gauss) Peckinou (Arkayis) The Regal Rper (Ark)