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Multiple Settings The Wallflower Agency - In Character.

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Euclid Leaf

Metamorphasis, Genesis, Metastasis
Supporter

[Within the sprawling files shared by the mysterious Wallflower, there would be a folded handwritten note. Inside it reads:

'You may have noticed by now, the tape recorder no longer replays my message. Another precaution I must include, I'm afraid.
If you wish to take my offer, I shall present you only one chance.

On April 7, three hours before noon, go to the intersection where South Station is located, between Summer Street and Atlantic Avenue. There you will find a contact. They will only wait 15 minutes, so I suggest not coming late. They can be identified by an article in their possession. I shall give you a hint. 'What goes up when the rain comes down? Blue like the sky, and black like the night.' Once you have identified them, tell them Mr. Wallflower has sent you.

If you choose to decline my offer, I wish you all the luck in the world."]


...

A new dawn marked a new day, for most people. However, a city never truly goes to sleep.
This was just the end of another long night.

The late night rain covered the whole of Boston in a faint mist, a sweeping fog that rose above the ocean and skyline. It would appear the sun, too, rose grumpily amidst the shivering cold dew. The rustling waters glimmering rose gold as water ferries departed down the bay for their first passengers in Quincy. The horns, as loud as they are, were drowned out in the restless commotion of the highway already being packed by the flocks of cars.

The rousing streets of a waking city are a callous display of all the shades of humanity. A noisy backdrop underneath the towering structures of concrete and steel. There, vast stages where thousands upon thousands gathered. Whether it be the rosy silence of a school in session, or a stale drowsy office during a morning meeting. The exchanges offered in stoic halls of a national reserve are no different than the festivities found at the carnival, in their importance. Each person had an equal part, in this grand play. It was a script shared by everyone, yet no one knew all the words. Still, despite their ignorance, the spirited actors were guided along in their desire to see how it would unfold. There was excitement in not knowing. But there is also risk. Sometimes the part is one of tragedy, such as the home invasion and unsolved homicide of the daughter of a broken family. Or the play was of a happier tune, a scene of youthful kids prancing around the bus stop, stumbling across the puddles in giggling delight.

Together, these opposing scenes formed the aches and joys of life.

However, at the moment, interrupting the flow of the play, was a woman standing out on Summer Street. In her hands, a pale blue umbrella that was held high overhead.
Her attire might give someone the impression that she was an attendee at a nearby funeral, fitted with a dress suit of all black. A white bouquet was held firmly at her chest like mountainside lilies.

Her pretty, round face resembled that of a doll. Though that may lie, in large part, due to her expression. Or lack, thereof.

It was hard to decide whether her gloominess was a result of the downcast, but her expression reflected the chilling weather. Rock formations by the shore seemed animated with how still and firmly she held herself. There, in the morning rush of the main street, the bustling crowds were like pounding waves. But even the crashing waves of bodies were forced to shift around the woman. People ducked and weaved to avoid a collision. Whether out of courtesy, or fear of responsibility. And much like a storm brewing at the edge the sea, there were a few who showed their displeasure. From their mouths spilled thunderous curses. But she didn't pay attention. Not to them, nor echoes of her favorite chorus playing in her earphones.

As she had been told, the woman remained as a statue.

Her melancholic eyes were completely calm despite the storm surrounding her. But it was clear she was focused elsewhere than the noise of the world. The woman faced the adjacent coffee shop bordering the train terminals, but her stare was not on the people cramped within. But what was between. Her eyes followed the droplets streaking across the glass of the window, as if stuck in a trance. As gravity pulled on them, they slowly left down-facing streaks across the surface.

If it wasn't clear enough, there was something pretty odd about her.

...
 
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~ "Corki" - Corinna-Kiana - The Surfer/Skater Chick


In the fancy-assed Hotel Room...


She lounged there a moment longer, tan legs sprouting out from beyond her white robe, one leg crossed over the other. With a soft smile parting lips, her blue eyes stared out the huge bay window. But truly she was not focussed upon the grey yet vast harbourfront scenery below. Several more times the metal ball of her tongue piercing clicked against the inner bead of her lip stud. Another hit she took from her rainbow LED lit vape. As she exhaled, a bubbling giggle just could not help but be let out.

"That note...so extra... hahahahah...! Bruh. But for real though...? This ish is soooooo effed in the face cool!" Corki held the tape recorder right up to her nose and laughed again, "ey, whoever set this up...? Bruh. Loves n' Respects from the MagiaFam... Dang...!!"

The elongated clump of blankets and pillows stirred beside her in their gigantic hotel bed. Slowly but surely, a face was born from between fluffy, white sheets. A deep breath, scowling brows and grumbles of disdain the semi-awoken female mumbled away, still held by the strong grasp of sleep.

"No, you shut up," Corki laughed then leaned down to kiss the placid lips of the sleeping thing, she then reached across the other young woman's blanket swaddled body and put the clunky old piece of tech down onto the night stand. She exchanged the clunky, blocky thing for her svelte, folded phone. As she put her vape down, she inadvertantly knocked over the piled up files onto the floor.

"Girl, I gots nothin' on sched till tonight. I know you have rehearsal, but we still should get breakfast together 'kay. I know this outta' the way kinda' spot that gots the dopest frittatas AND they will do up like a fancy-assed show making it while you watch...!" tattooed fingers ran gently through the raven locks of the still sleeping female. Chill reggae music began to play through her phone's speakers as Corki ran through her socials and comment sections. A rattling of contradictory laughs and huffs reflected her facial expressions despite her shoulders and head swaying to the music. A facepalm. A pause. A snapping close of her phone. Then suddenly her head dipped back as she shook her fist.

"All you haters still with the #CancelCorki...? Dang!! Really...?! 'Okay. Okaaaaay, bitches... Oh, donchu worry none... I'll have something BIG for you losers to get all butthurt about reeeeeealllll soon, no cap..." blue eyes glared at an innocent stretch of lighting in the high ceilings above as if they were deserving of her disdain and vitriol. A smirk then pulled up from the corner of her lips as she folded open her phone with one hand and went through her collection of vids, her other hand continued to stroke the hair of the slumbering lump beside her.

She froze in place, mouth open and jaw hitting the floor. A heartbeat passed, then In a flurry of legs, arms, tattoos and terry cloth robe, she finally got to her feet. A hand smacked her forehead and held on for dear life as she rechecked the other vid files. Black. All of them. In total, 67 minutes of nothing. Everything she recorded that had anything to do with this package was gone. No visual. No audio. Gone.

Suddenly the smokey, charred smell of a fire she caught, wafting its way up from memory. Salty, sea air. Darkness that shrouded the beach chased away from the central fire. Laughter, music and joy faded away. All that was left was Corinna-Kianna. Just her, the fire and... oh, but the dance of the flame... like a kid spying through a keyhole... Just her, the dancing, dancing fire and--

"--the faces..."

---​

Blue eyes popped open wide and she shook her head to clear it out. Her chin snapped downward as she stared back down at her phone and noted the time. Had she spaced out for that long...?! A gasp, then she snatched her robe closed, rushing towards the windows, pulling the curtains closed as fast as she could, barefeet thumping across the vast expanse of heated hardwood flooring. "Bruh! No! Nonononono...! What the actual eff in the effin' face?! Bruh!!"

"Misfortune... exceptionalism... misprints... But the constant is the key. It is borderline predictable," that voice ran through her mind and she knew it was in her mind for she had no doubt it too was gone-- erased from that stupid old boomer tech box. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

"Dude! Eyo, Jessie! Shut up!! SHUT UP!! For real though, this ain't right! This. Ain't. RIGHT!!"

Another grumble of protest from the bed, this time louder, possibly sounding something more like human speech too, accompanied by several kicks under blankets. When all was said and done, a tan arm and leg sprouted from the white fluffy blankets and noisy deep breathing competed with the drone of the air conditioner.

"Girl sorry, sorry...! Yo, but kinda' questioning existence right now, 'kay? I just really need--WITCH!!" Blue eyes popped wide and she madly scrolled through her contacts. She found who she was looking for and pressed the phone symbol. "Hell yeah. Let's go--"

The young woman's head snapped back as if hit by an uppercut. The screeching feedback bounced loudly in her head. She should have heeded the warning in the note. But instead, Corki squealed, snapped her phone closed and chucked the evil thing clear across the room--

"OWWW!!! Goddamit!! Talkie!! Girl, oww!! What in the actual FU--"

"Diz! OhMyGosh!! I'm sorry, I'm soooooo so sorry, I din't mean to--"

Corki leapt across the room towards the bed and tried to comfort the other woman. It ended up turning into a slap fight to see who would be the one to rub better the spot on Diz's forehead where Corki's phone had bounced off.

"Girl. Listen. I have a show in 2 days. 2 DAYS, Tik-Talk! I swear if I get a bump cuz you all sketchy..." she was clearly upset but leaned into Corki so she could rub, kiss and carress the shining red spot on her light brown forehead.

"Donchu worry, you good. You good... it only hit you cuz my phone is attracted to only the prettiest girl on the planet..." she waited a bit longer. She smiled when Diz finally conceded a a half-laughing, half-scoffing sigh of forgiveness, "'kay but in all seriousness now... Girl... are you still in town on April 7th?"

Diz rolled over, cheeks flushed with heat. Her own blue eyes glinted as she met Corki's blue eyed gaze. A wry smile pulled up at the corner of her mouth, "Corkiiiiiii... stahhhhhp...! I mean... we shouldn't... like really, girl we really shouldn't!! But like... ummmmm... if you fo'sho then girl, I'm fo'sho...! Hahahahah...! Where we gunna meet this time--"

"'Kay. Bet. I'mma need to borrow CC from ya then-- OOFF!!"

"You just want me here to use me for my bff?! Bitch!! Use this and choke on it!!" A rough shove for good measure she gave the pillow she tossed into Corki's face as she got up and stomped off towards the bathroom.

"Soooooo... like... is that a yes then...?"

Corki giggled as she ducked, her phone hurtling past her head at speeds caused by the ferocity only attainable by an angry, angry secret girlfriend in another city.



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South Station was easy enough to get to. It was less than 5 stops away on the Silver Line from the Seaport Hotel.

A deep inhale she took as they surfaced from the lower platform. It was cold but at least the rain had let up. Then the clink, scratch and whoosh sounds of a Zippo being ignited. A puff of smoke, another, then an inhale of a welcome cigarette in the open air of Boston, Mass.

A shrug of the shoulders readjusted her black hooded overcoat. Corki being Corki she had felt the need to represent her brand and have her body covered in merch from her clothing line; ChroniCal. But without much fuss, she listened to the expertise of her friend and security guru, CC. No skateboard and she had checked her drip.


But now that it was no longer raining, Corki undid her overcoat, pulling it near off as she yanked off her hood and stretched, soaking in the stares of passerbys. She nodded and winked at them as she stood there in her 'plain city girl' look... sort of. Kind of... but actually no. Not really.

Bottom half was adorned with black short-shorts, fishnets, and clean white kicks. Tattooed arms lined with wraps, scarves and bracelets. Studded leather bands and cutoff gloves played off as an accent. Her top was barely covering her tan body; it was merely a very, very short torn, white croptop that allowed the white of her bra to peek out. Tatooed neck sported choke collar and chains but no branding of course. Face was done up with heavy dark eye makeup and lipliner, gold piercings to match her chains and bellybutton gold. And of course, her Infamous 'Dripping Flame' tattoo just below her temple running down to her jawline in full display. Raven hair was sporting twin ponytails, purple streaks and of course flowers everywhere as accents to show that she was still soft, sweet and--


"Dammit, Clicks... cut that ish off... I said try to go low profile... I mean... Yo. Girl. Like just lookitchu! Like wut? Who wanders around with a bluetooth full blast--- UGH!!" The big woman turned her cheek from the plume of cigarette smoke. But it was too late. CC lowered her head and went full on coughing fit. Corki laughed as she watched her friend's blonde braids dancing away like a frazzled golden octopus.

"Easy now... ease back, folks..." Corki held out her arms, motioning as if her bluetooth speaker could ward away the stink-eye from the passing citizens, covering their mouths, noses and turning away, "she triple vaxxed, 'kay? All good. ...just the rabies. That's all."

The skater girl laughed heartily and patted her friend's back to soothe her. Then she stroked CC's arm and yeah, she just couldn't help but squeeze in the right spots to check out her muscles. Dang! Girl be packing some serious guns!

"Giiiiirl, please. Stop drawing attention....!"

"Riiiiiight... ey. Eyo, Imps, sooooo you a 6-foot tall, brown, fancy-assed Amazon with blonde braids n' dripped out in pink camo... and you be tellin' me to blend in...? Hahahahah," Corki pulled back and fiddled with the buttons of her bluetooth to turn it off as soon as she saw CC make a fist, "Okayokayokay... just gunna' quit while I'm ahead before we end up on some rando's Story. Oops. Too late!

"Oooooh... look! See that? What representation! I just spotted a shy and recluse urban specimen. This is what is commonly known as a 'punk rocker.' It has surfaced up from 'the underground' all clad in 'pseudo-anti-authoritarian, counter-culture streetwear...!' Oh and would you look at that! It is painted up in its own distinct permanent tribal markings! Those are called; 'Tattoos.' But! This one in particular lacks several hallmark features. Specifically, what we commonly see as their primary form of locomotion; a 'skateboard.' Furthermore it lacks symbology and/or garb of lesser known 'urban subculture brands' such as the uuuuber-impressive, damn near industry dominating, next to godly brand called; 'ChroniCal.' And oh, just look at their friend! It's 'Urban Survival Tactics Barbie'!! Hahahahahah...!"


CC could not help but chuckle and instantly her hands relaxed. They were only balled up in frustration. There was no way CC was going to hit Corki. Ever. They were friends from all the way back when Corki was in middle school and CC just started highschool. That was when they were known back then as 'Dimples' and 'Clickie'; aka Imps and Clicks nowadays. In fact, it was Corki that reclaimed the name 'Dimples' into something positive way back when CC had so many haters too. And it was Corki that helped launch CC's ToBeYou career too. CC never forgot those things and always had Corki's back no matter how capricious of a free-spirit she was...

"Giiiiirl, please. Stop dancing!!"

...or just plain annoying.

---

And so there she was. Just like in the riddle. Up goes the umbrella, down comes the rain. Blue like the skies despite the dead blackness of her garb. Corki had of course seen the bouquet of immaculate white flowers, but had missed altogether something else. And this is how she knew her friend CC was a legit security expert; the big braided blonde saw the intensity and size of the shadow cast underneath the statuesque woman.

It was right then and there she took everything seriously. And she began to start up her ritual just like she did right before comp. This was why they nicknamed her 'Magia' when she was stil pro. Not just because it was like magic when she performed but because of her pre-run ritual. All that chanting, breathing and motion; it was as if she was casting a spell upon herself.

Corki nodded and did as she was told, not once did she look in the direction CC had taken to play spotter for her. She strode with a proper gait and confidence in her step, at ease that CC had given her one of those AiryTagz dot thingies to track her; if she ever lost contact, her friend would intervene. But first thing was first.

Hands in pockets, she approached the smoothed faced stranger woman, weaving, pushing and bobbing her way through the annoyed waves of Bostonians washing through Summer Street. Funny how it started to drizzle as soon as she saw her.

'
Exceptionalism...'


"Ey. What's good? Dun worry, ain't nuttin' shady, lady... Mr. Wallflowers sent me..." Corki, pulled off her hood, and smiled. She gave her head a bit of a light shake as she tried to stifle a giggle, "So sus... Anyways I'm Corinna-Kiana. Most people call me 'Corki.' But like I been called worse though... hahahahah...! Thinkin' Wallflowers there called me Miss Prince too? Oooorrrrr maybe it was 'Misprints'... Hahahahah...! Yeah, that sounds about right. Then there's 'Misfortune...' For both you n' me I'm guessing...."

Blue eyes shone, dazzling despite the gloom. A smile, wink and nod she tossed the other woman. A warm hand she held out to either bump or shake.

"'...The unpredictable agents of chance and chaos....'"





 
BuggaBoo BuggaBoo ...

It was already a stormy environment out there on the open streets. With the people of Boston rummaged around trying to squeeze their course, it was hard to even find your own step. But something about Corki made it whole lot more hectic. The talkative girl appeared like a typhoon, tossing things along at a breakneck pace. It wasn't a mistake to say she thrived in the chaos. However, the woman appeared to be an unmoving force. She showed no sign of life when the words of the spunky and boisterous punk fashionista rained over her. The speed of which her mouth moved almost outpaced the speckles of the waning drizzle above.

Not once, did her eyes show any signs of left the glass and the dripples upon it.

After a long, uncomfortably silent moment, the mysterious figure and turned and looked at the extended hand. The stone-faced woman was at least a head taller than Corki, even if she wasn't wearing high-heels. So it was no exaggeration to say she looked down at the new arrival. In the place of a handshake, the woman reached into her bouquet. Barely a muscle moved on her face, as she place a soft white flower into the hand.
"Keep in mind." she finally spoke, an airy static tone, "We were the ones to locate you, Ms. 'Magia'. So further introductions will be redundant. I'm glad you are so enthusiastic about Mr. Wallflower's offer. But uninvited guests will not be escorted onto the premises today."

The woman then turned her head to face the person watching them from afar. The so-called spotter. The shadows under the umbrella were indeed accented. It gave her face an entirely different expression in the cloudy day. Eyes glimmering in the shadow, similar to a panther in the grass.

"I'm sure you're well aware, as a successful business woman. A healthy business must protect their trade secrets at all cost."

...
 
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Brielle
Interaction: Euclid Leaf Euclid Leaf BuggaBoo BuggaBoo || Mention: N/A​
'What goes up when the rain comes down?'

Brielle clutched the now empty cassette in her coat pocket, furrowing her brow. Without the assistance of the internet, she probably wouldn't have guessed the answer to this by herself. Unaided by the wit of strangers, she had guessed the answer to be clouds. When sharing this theory with a friend it had earned her some laughter. Was the riddle that easy to guess, or did she just see things differently? Maybe she really had gone bonkers.

With a sigh, Brie glanced up at the dreary sky, bloated with puffy clouds. 'Not all umbrellas are blue. It could just as easily be red. What if its just a huge metaphor?'

Did she feel a spot of rain on her face or did she just imagine it? Had the forecast called for rain today? She had been so preoccupied on remembering the tape that she had forgotten to check. Maybe she should have brought her umbrella.

Brie stopped walking suddenly, eyes wide and face paled. Where had she left her umbrella? She usually just pulled her hood up during a downpour, so it had been a while since she needed it, and unfortunately could not remember where she left it in the house. A sense of impending dread hung over her like the clouds above. She knew that whatever she'd find when she returned home would not be her umbrella. Someone bumped into her, their angry words nothing but a faraway mumble.

Out of habit, Brie began to meticulously run through everything in her bag, from her phone to every content of her wallet. She kept only the essentials, and kept everything in the same place. It made it easier to remember, to memorize. It made it easier to avoid "replacements". Also out of habit, Brie stepped to the side of the street and flung open her bag, filing through the contents. She let out a shaky breath when thankfully nothing had been replaced. To be sure, she double checked her list of possessions. All accounted for, unless she forgot something. She really hoped not.

Many people had that feeling of 'forgetting something' when they left their house or a restaurant, but Brielle was certain that nobody ever felt that crushing sense of doom that came along with it.

Now that everything was where she left them, Brie was reminded of the task at hand. A Wallflower Agency member was supposed to meet her here. It didn't take her long to see two girls talking, one holding a blue umbrella.

Brie dragged a hand across her face and muttered, "Blue umbrella. Literally an umbrella. I was overthinking this for nothing...ugh."

It also occurred to her how openly the lady, who she eavesdropped to be called Corki (a cool name), was talking about Wallflower. 'Wait, are we allowed to just say the name of the association out loud? I've watched too many movies to know that might be a bad idea. Spooky stuff is happening, and I don't want spooky enemies. Oh no, what if THEY are the spooky enemies? What if its a trap?'

Panicking slightly, Brielle tried to play it cool by scrolling through her phone while watching the nearby conversation carefully. A chill ran up her spine when the lady spoke so casually about knowing everyone without the need of introductions. Even if she did try to stay back, the lady likely could recognize her. Cramming her hands into her coat pockets, Brie inched towards the duo tentatively. She stood a little awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

Finally it came out as a simple, "Hey, I uh, got your message..."

Pretty intimidated by both women, Brielle fell quiet and only mustered up enough courage to simply nod in greeting to Corki.
 
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"This better be worth all the hassle."

Elliot Baxter thought this to himself as he accidentally submerged his leg into a large puddle. His amber brown shoes became an intense shade due to the water, along with the bottom of his cargo pants as well. Unfortunately, that was the least of problems he had endured. Just getting to this intersection was difficult on it's own. Eliiot had forgotten to charge his phone the night before, so using his GPS was no longer an option. And because of this, the boy had to resort to purchasing a map much wider than his chest, and of course, much harder to read. Not to mention that it was rainy on this particular night as well.

But, damned by his own curiosity, Eliiot endured all of this anyways. The urge to discover the source behind the mysterious tape recording he had received recently ate at his self control; the letter he had obtained aided this process. So as he finally approached Summer Street, and more than half of his body was drenched, he could really only blame himself for the mishaps.

But now that he had arrived at the destination, Elliot found himself standing in the midst of a bustling crowd, observing the area before him. It was absolutely hectic. There seemed to be no end to the busy civilians swerving past one another to get to their destinations, barely avoiding a crash. It was jam packed, sure. But it didn't take long for one particular person to stand out. The only one who fit the description of the 'riddle' most.

"What goes up when rain comes down?"

An umbrella. It had finally clicked in Eliiot's mind. He had attempted to figure it out before he went on his way, put the boy couldn't quite put his finger on it. But then answer was seemingly moving past him the entire time. Many of the people rushing through the rain had one, they just didn't have an umbrella that was 'Blue like the sky's and black like the night'.

"That...must be her." Eliiot spoke between harsh shivers. Speaking of umbrellas, he should have brought one himself. But besides that, the situations before him became a bit baffling. The woman he was supposed to meet with was seemingly occupied already. She was speaking to another girl who looked about the same age as Eliiot, and another woman standing with the pair reluctantly.

Did the letter say there would be multiple contacts? He thought with his head cocked to the side. He had been so fixated on the journey here that Elliot had almost completely forgotten who to talk to. Besides a contact that was mentioned, of course. Or maybe he read it wrong and it was plural. Contacts. There was no way to be sure, and he specifically remembered reading that he had 15 minutes to arrive. So he thought, fuck it, and approached the 'contacts', pushing his way through an impermeable barrier of people.

Once he was finally near the woman with the umbrella, Eliiot gave her a warm smile and a small wave. "Uhm, excuse me, Miss. I hope you know what I mean when I say this; I was sent here by a man who goes by Mr. Wallflower?"

Afterwards, he turned to the other two women.

"Hi, uh, are you two with her as well? Sorry to barge in like this."


Interactions: BuggaBoo BuggaBoo Euclid Leaf Euclid Leaf Juju Juju
 
“You got this Isa! You gonna frag this drek-head! Just remember what I taught you! Never stop moving! Stay grounded! The power moves up through the legs! Keep your hands up!” That was Anway's deep barking -he was Isa's first instructor and probably his only real friend. Anway was a tall, thick-knuckled and thickheaded thirty-eight year old man who'd been in more fights than Isa could count. The man was in better than decent shape but he did have a little bit of a gut. “One more thing,” Anway smiled, “I put a lot of money on you, so you better win or I'll end up in a body bag. No pressure. Now get in there and rip that guy to shreds!”

Everything else would disappear when Isa stepped into that ring. It was just him and another animal in an underground parking lot. The floor of this ring was cold cement that was cordoned off by crowd control barricades, and it was likely that only one person was going to walk out of that arena on their feet. The rules for this fight were simple: no-weapons, no low-blow; no biting; no strikes to the eyes; no hair pulling. Everything else was legal.

Isa was wearing a simple black t-shirt, blue stretch demim slim fit jeans. Ankle high black hiking shoes were on his feet and an ancient pair of mixed martial arts gloves that used to belong to Anway encased his hands. The fighter across from him was Brick. Brick was around six feet tall, weighing somewhere in the neighborhood of two-fifteen and two-thirty pounds. This was an unfair fight. The odds weren't in Isa's favor. “He's a boxer!” Anway yelled. “Has a background in wrestling!” Anway was always bang on when it came to assessing peoples martial arts backgrounds. Isa was still learning how to do this. Of one thing he was certain, that the tree trunks for legs on Brick weren't going to be kicking higher than his belt line. Still, Isa didn't entirely discount the possibility. No wise fighter should ever underestimate their opponent, he learned that lesson the hard way once. Once was enough.

Similar to his opponent, Isa stepped into a boxing stance though it was less traditional, one hand slightly in front of the other about a fist width away from his chin, and practically squared up with the other fighter. He normally wouldn't stand like this because it left his groin exposed to attack, but the rules said no shots below the belt. Boxing was the first style that he learned from Anway. When he asked Anway: why boxing first? Anway told him that the majority of streets fights ended with a punch so he was going to teach Isa how to punch and how not to get punched. Not getting punched wasn't nearly as easy as punching, Anway always said.

The bell rung. Isa moved in slowly, bobbing his head side-to-side, his arms making small phasic movements. Brick had the reach advantage, started throwing combination punches as soon as Isa entered into his range, but Isa slipped all the attacks, ducked the hook and countered with a rear hand uppercut followed by two consecutive low-body left hooks and then an overhand cross that just glanced Brick's nose.

Brick was able to get Isa into a defensive hug to abate any subsequent punches, tried to throw Isa to the ground with brute strength but ultimately failed to take him off his feet. Isa had won that exchange. There was a small trickle of blood at one of Brick's nostrils. First blood went to Isa but the fight wasn't over yet. Isa started to close the distance again, shoulders moving left to right as he bobbed an weaved towards his enemy. Brick retaliated with a frenzy of straight punches, landing a few on Isa's forehead. Isa raised his left elbow to guard the left hook and lunged in, simultaneously making his elbow a defense and an attack. His elbow struck Brick between the shoulder and the chest, effectively neutralizing Brick's knock-out hook and breaking his structure. Without even thinking, Isa pulled Brick into a clinch and delivered several consecutive knees to his chest and one more to his face. The knee to Brick's face created a small explosion of blood.

Isa hoped that would have ended it, but Brick grabbed on to Isa's leg and easily took him down onto the cement. The impact nearly took the wind out of Isa if hadn't been for all that time spent training his break-falls. Luckily, he was able to get Brick into his guard. It still wasn't a good position to be in with someone twice his weight if not more above him. Brick rained down hell with his fists. Isa deflected the first three, took one to the temple, and the fifth one he was able to grab at the wrist, planting it to the ground to use for leverage while his other hand reached around the back of Brick's neck, setting up to perform a cross between a butterfly and hip-bump sweep.

The positions were reversed with Isa on the top. Instead of trying for a ground and pound, Isa attempted to get Brick into a forearm choke, realizing too late that his arms weren't long enough to pull off that technique with someone that had a neck as thick as his opponent. Brick, being the strong man he was, just stood up with Isa in tow with little effort, wrapped his arms behind Isa's knees. Isa knew what was coming next, he was going get slammed into the concrete hard. That's when he felt the blood trickling down his left cheek. On instinct, the instinct to survive, Isa released his ineffective forearm choke and jammed his thumb, nail first, into Brick's eye socket. The shriek that escaped Brick's lips didn't sound natural. He released Isa and brought his hands to his face -the reaction was only natural. Isa took the opportunity to shuffle step back then come forward with a side-kick to Brick's sternum. The kick took Brick off his feet. The large man fell with his back against the barricades and stumbled down onto his ass. The fight was over. No one seemed to notice or understand what had just happened, but Anway saw it, so he jumped the barricades, grabbed an exhausted Isa and dragged him out of there before Brick and the crowd came to their senses.

Isa didn't sleep well, couldn't sleep so he just lied in his single bed, listening to the raindrops hitting the window to his room. Dark bags were under eyes -darker than usual. His muscles were aching and the headache was probably due to a minor concussion from that punch to his temple. Then he registered the sharp, needle-like pain in his left eye, though it wasn't as bad as last night. Isa had this feeling that something important had to be done today but couldn't quite place it. Some time passed before it hit him. He quickly looked over to his alarm clock to confirm his suspicions. What he saw made him curse under his breath. Forgetting about Jesse and staying in bed would have been so much easier, yet he strapped on his guards, jumped into yesterday's clothing, pulled on a black hoodie with the hood up and was out the door in less than five minutes.

Cold and soaking wet was added to the list of Isa's conditions when a car had intentionally sped over a large puddle left over from last night's rain. When he arrived at Summer Street and wherever else, he eventually spotted a lady holding a blue umbrella. His gut instinct told him that she was the contact Jessie was talking about. It appeared she had company as well. Despite being mildly concussed, Isa put two and two together fairly easily -he wasn't the only one called out here by Jesse. Cautiously, he made his way through the crowd and towards the umbrella lady, gazing at her from several feet away and keeping a healthy distance from the group that had formed around her.
 
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When had it all become such a mess? The lavish and needlessly large apartments with one too many windows had once been way too neat. The shear expense of it seemed to pull an owner into keeping it cleaner than a house should be, as if someone did not live there. Now however, it looked closer to an abandoned house. Every light in the house was on, bright as can be, a random assortment of lights had been bought to fill up every shadow possible. Miss matching lamps sat in corners and on floors, some hung from the ceiling, others tapped to the wall. Every door was wide open, tied to the wall to make sure nothing accidently shut them. Even cabinet and drawers were left open, none ever getting shut. Paper scattered the floor, blotches of dark ink coating them, scratched images of violent deaths and events, some crumpled into balls, others crumpled from being stepped on many times, left unmoved.

boxes of fast food lay scattered about, any sort of plate or reusable dish had long been used and left uncleaned, stacked in a sink in a vain attempt at encouraging a form of cleaning. Clothes were scattered around the ground, used and forgotten, the stale sent of sweat and blood on many of them. Many books lay open or stacked in high piles around the floor, many about anything somehow related to a certain book in some way. More recently the connection has grown thin, a desperate attempt to find an answer leading to nothing. Newspaper and fabric attempted to cover every one of the many windows in his apartment, blocking out any peering eyes that might be out there.

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a familiar sound pierced the air, an ear piercing noise, an alarm. Theodore shot up, shaking, covered in sweat, the blankets around him clinging to him like a second skin. He quickly pried off the new skin with an animalistic desperation as he heaved out short breaths. He sat for a moment before wiping the sweat from his forehead, his hair moving with his hand, stuck to his face against the sweat. He turned off the alarm.

swallowing back another nightmare, he reached out to the book on the table, gripping it tightly as he quickly flipped to the same section, to the same page, where a new entry was placed. His familiar hand writing, displayed another scene he did not know of. A disturbing graphic of himself, guts torn out by his own hands, a sickeningly wide smile across his face. His all to familiar signature in the corner of the page. A fat drop of blood fell from his hand to the paper, himself unconsciously tearing off another section of skin from around his nails with his teeth as he read. Smearing the blood with his sleeve in a feeble attempt to clean it up, he blew on it a few times to dry it before letting the book fall close. This had not been the first time he found his own blood on these pages.

pushing himself off the floor scattered with blankets he grabbed his phone and the book and made his way to the bathroom, today was not like other days. As he showered with all doors open, the book sitting next to the open shower door, in reach at all times. Drying himself, he grabbed the book and his phone before moving to his bedroom, searching for an outfit amidst the piles of forgotten clothing. Finding an almost clean pair of clothes he dressed, grabbing a satchel in which he placed everything he needed in. Several ink pens and shades of ink, pencils, a few sketchbooks, along with some mints had found their home in there as well, though he did not bother to remove those. Of course the most important thing was the book he placed with much care into the satchel. He also stuck the letter from the mysterious agency he was going to meet and his phone in there.

he then made his way to his front door, standing in front of the only closed door in his house, several locks piled on its face. Theodore stared at the door for a long moment, unable to bring himself to move at all. His hand instinctively going to his left wrist, long scars from deep gashes along them. He can remember the door to his bedroom clearly and how the doorknob felt when he had opened it. How it felt again when he never opened it again. He licked his chapped lips as he stared at the door. If only there was another way out.

eventually Theodore turned to making excuses, spending the next few hours searching for his umbrella. It was only when he decided to check the books pages did he find where it was left. Once he did have it he was back to his spot, frozen before the gate to the outside. He glanced down at his phone, he had long since lost his lead in leaving, and now would only barely make it in time. He began to tear away at his fingers again as he stared hard at the door, willing it to open by itself. It did not. He unlocked all the locks, but could not move.

tearing one last chunk off his thumb he moved quickly, throwing open the door and in one move, threw himself out of the door. He came tumbling out, causing a woman down the hall to jump, spilling coffee on herself as she was checking her mail. Heaving out heavy breathes, Theodore almost broke down crying. He carefully shut the door behind him, locking the many locks with his many keys. He made his way down to the parking garage, thanking every god that everything in his building had automatic doors.

driving his black car again had been strange, how many days had it been since he had driven this car? How long had it been since he had been out? Order food online for deliveries, leaving the door unlocked for them to drop it off inside, he hadn't left in so long. His hands were slick with sweat, anxiety causing his body to shake like a leaf, having to pull over many times to stop from crashing.

after a long ride he eventually made it to the street in the letter. Reaching into the dash, he pulled out a mask, one he hadn't used in years. Back when he first became popular he wore it everywhere, something inside him telling him people would somehow know it was him. One day he left it at home, and when no one recognized him he stopped wearing it. The excitement of being famous back then had pushed back the logic of how he was faceless and didn't even use his real name. He decided to use it today.

as he stepped out of the car, gripping the umbrella in his hand, even though it was no longer raining. After all the time he spent looking for it, he would not leave it behind. He nervously made his way over to the person with the umbrella, many others had arrived as well. He had figured out her riddle rather quickly, having been a fan of riddles before it was not difficult. Shuffling, towards the group, his hand firmly over his bag as he tentatively approached. Hovering behind the group he spoke up after his silent approach,

"Mr. Wallflower sent me to you." his voice horse from not speaking in a long time. Adding only this to the interrupted conversation as he waited for the woman to speak to him or the group in response.
Juju Juju Euclid Leaf Euclid Leaf RaiAthar RaiAthar SharkBark SharkBark BuggaBoo BuggaBoo
 
The trek to Boston was long and tiring. The handwritten note had sat in her pocket, burning a hole within for the better part of a week. The tape spoke of exceptionalism, of abilities. That-- frankly, had been the only reason she had not tossed the rest of the files away. There was something...compelling about what the voice spoke of. Sadly, the tape no longer functioned, yet she had reread the strange files and the handwritten note over and over again, lower lip worried between her teeth. She certainly did not need any sort of a job offer. Daiyu did well enough on her own, with her seamstress shop located in Flushing, Queens. But she had always wondered if there was a reason why her embroidery was so vivid -- near life-like, many would say. Curiosity killed the cat.

Daiyu had her moments of whimsy. But she was not one to jump before she looked. After receiving the mysterious package, she did all that she could to track down where it came from. Unluckily, it did not seem to have been sent through any sort of traditional postal system. Perhaps it was hand-delivered to her PO Box. She did manage to verify via small local newspapers of the strange happenings described in the files. However, she found little on a Wallflower Agency, or even a Jessie Wallflower. Odd. But not entirely enough to deter her curiousity.


And so, she had closed up shop, handing the keys off to one of her workers and buying the first ticket out to Boston in the morning. The amtrak ride was long -- plastic seats that stuck to her thighs, the rails jostling beneath her, and the train car full of bleary eyed college students on their way back to Boston. She had little ideas of how long percisely she would be staying in Boston, having only packed the night before: a few day's worth of clothing, a wad of cash rolled up tightly with a rubber band laying at the bottom of her satchel, a tiny sewing kit, and the files also catefully tucked into the satchel.

By the time her train pulled into the station, late now, from the extended stops it made between NYC and Boston, Daiyu was worried she would miss the contact entirely. She half-ran out of the station, satchel bouncing off her thigh, suitcase clattering loudly behind her, scanning the roadsigns for the meeting spot. What goes up when rain comes down? She mulled it over, dark gaze scanning the sidewalks. Boston was certainly not half as busy as New York, so she spotted the possible contact -- a woman holding an umbrella despite the lack of rain, surrounded by a few other people gathered around her. They certainly made for a sight: the only people around who was standing still in the middle fo the sidewalk, to the disgruntlement of any other passerby, she would imagine.

Daiyu took measured steps towards the group, now calmer, having located the possible contact. She tucked back a loose curl behind her ear, the embroidered butterfly hairclip fluttering gently with each step. She stopped at the edge of the group, offering a politely distanced inclination of the head to the other members, then turned her attention upon the woman carrying an umbrella. "Hello. Mr. Wallflower sent me. Are you the contact here to meet me?"


Euclid Leaf Euclid Leaf
 






NAME:
GENA
LOCATION:
APARTMENT > SOUTH STATION
WITH:
ME MYSELF I > Stranger danger?
NOTE:




April 7th, 4:52 AM​


The minutes crept by as the sickly green light burned through closed eyelids. Peeking an eye open just slightly, the blur of green slowly came into focus. The clock flicked over to 4:53.

"Oh for Fucks-sake!"


Gena wadded up the pillow beside her and launched it at the nightstand. The white linen cloud hit its target, taking down the clock to the floor with a clash of plastic hitting it, shattering the room's stillness. For once, Gena had all the time in the world to catch up on sleep, but instead, all she could do was keep her mind whirling with thoughts of the unknown. Gena, like most people, was not always a fan of the unknown. It was not unusual. People generally tended to build up a little world within their comfort zone. Unfortunately, Gena's little world started to crack three days ago. She could mark the instant it happened to the second. When she had played that tape. Nothing had been the same since.

Granted, it was not like the movies. Generally, in the film, one odd event leads heroines on a whirlwind adventure that just gained traction as the hours ticked past. No instead, life had carried on. Gena had gone to work, and everything else was unremarkable beyond the issues with phones. Then came the case on the third floor. Again, nothing new. The suspension was, but her lawyer told her it would get sorted out. Though something prickled in her mind, did she want it resolved? A nurse, a healer, was her identity. An entire arm coated in ink attested to that fact.

Gena rolled over, trying to find a cool spot in the small bed; maybe the cool touch would drag her back into the world of slumber. She could swear she could still see the green glow of the clocks read out. Groaning in defeat, she flopped out of bed and dressed for the day. Given the hazy post-rain conditions, the black slacks, white button-down, and green racerback vest seemed right. The bundle of documents tied with copper certainly did not give much to the dress code for this little meet-up. Considering the weather, Gena knew there was no wrangling her wide mane and attempted to wrestle it back into a bun, letting her bangs do as they pleased. A pair of black timberlands were not all that dressy, but they kept her feet warm and dry.


'Great, what to do now? Don't have to be there until nine.' she mused while glaring at the clock, which was still taunting her from the floor.
She packed everything up into a simple brown backpack after collecting all the Wallflower documents and tape recorder. Peering out into the city's darkness, there was a contemplation on the chances of more rain. Grabbing a grey water-resistance jacket for herself and a cheap plastic poncho for the backpack, Gena was ready to venture out. It was a few minutes past six when Gena hit the streets. The streets were still relatively quiet compared to their normal pace. Commuters were still brewing their morning joe and shaking the sleep from their eyes. The crisp chill of the morning air could be felt with every breath. Gena walked a few blocks to a local donut shop. Grabbing a ham and cheese croissant before hopping on the city bus and nestling in the back seats to devour the freshly baked goodness.

Condensation built up on the windows within the bus as it traveled through the slowly increasing traffic. Even with all the build-up on the windows, there was no missing that big old rounded building South Station. Reaching up, she tugged the wire that ran the entire bus length. After a blaring horn to clear the car at the bus stop, the bus rolled up, and both sets of doors swung open with a hiss, releasing the hydraulics to lower the bus to a more manageable height. Stepping out onto the sideway, Gena weaved her way through the growing number of bodies and into the station. With hours still left to burn, Gena ordered a large coffee from the au bon pain cafe. Then returned to the outside, waiting for a bench to open up to claim as her own.


Silently sipping coffee, Gena people watched as the morning unfolded. The hazy slowly disappeared and her mind mulled over the riddle. Man, she hated riddles; she was more of a literal individual.

"What goes up when the rain comes down? Blue like the sky, and black like the night," she muttered to herself, taking in her surroundings. "I am so in over my head."

A clock tower chimed, announcing the arrival of the nine o'clock hour. Gena had removed her backpack for comfort and to peer over the note, but now she returned it to her back as she stood. Both legs felt a bit numb from sitting so long in the cold. Crowds of people carried on their way, pressing past one another. All the bodies moved in ordered chaos, marching onward to continue in the little bubbles of their comfort zones.

'What am I doing? -this is insane. I should just go home and wait for HR to call. This whole thing will blow over and everything will go back to nor-'

A group of individuals stood out like a sore thumb about half a block from where she stood. Everything else around them moved just right, but they did not. It was not that they were all standing in the middle of the walkway; though that was also a giveaway, they were different. Gena could not place a feeling or a word to the sensation, but she guessed that the woman with the umbrella was whom she was searching for. While closing the distance, Gena said nothing and took in a visual inventory. Most were dressed in black and were most certainly not dressed to impress. It made her feel like she somehow had a one-up on them. Her gaze flicked up and down the Emo Stripper-Barbie, Mr. Average Thrifty Shop, Ms. Boyfriends Oversized Clothes, and Scabby Nails. She had not even picked up on Butterfly Clip and Bar Fight.

'WTF kind of job is this? Half these people look like they have a rap sheet.' internally, she grimaced.

Well, here she stood in a group of misfits, staring intently at a woman in a black suit with an umbrella, of which something seems off, a feature perhaps? Gena could not put her finger on it.

 





"Corki" - Corinna-Kiana - The Surfer/Skater Chick




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Several seconds more felt like an eternity. But the mixed-blooded girl was on 'Magia' time now. And so on went the chant in her head;
'You only do it if you know your Name. You were never meant to be the best. You were meant to be Legendary. They will know your Name. All of them. You only do it if you know your Name...'

And finally the static pose of the other woman shifted. Blue eyes popped wide as the flower was slid into her palm with liquid ease. A gasp of pleasant surprise Corki let out and an appreciative nod she gave the stone-faced woman towering over her. And of course, she just could not help but lift the white lily to her nose, close those blue eyes and take a generous inhale.


"Keep in mind." she finally spoke, an airy static tone, "We were the ones to locate you, Ms. 'Magia'. So further introductions will be redundant. I'm glad you are so enthusiastic about Mr. Wallflower's offer. But uninvited guests will not be escorted onto the premises today."

How quickly things took a turn. The pureness of the white lily seemed like it glowed, reflecting the eyes of this woman. The shadow beneath that CC had pointed out earlier had increased in depth and intensity. Electricity tickled its way down the nape of Corki's neck and her mouth fell open as she inadvertantly took a single step back. Heat from the recesses of her mind flared up; the flame was dancing again.

"Bitch and a half... how in the actual...?" 2 floors up, and across the street, the big woman slowly lowered her binoculars, grey eyes shining wide. The mark had stared directly into her eyes... A shake of the head. A sharp exhale. Muttering a string of curses, she tossed a few pieces of kit into her duffel bag and pressed her finger to her ear.

<<Been made. Clickie, hang tight. I'm comin' in to pull you out of there. 60 seconds. Repeat: hang tight, I gots you in 60 seconds.>>

Corki nodded as soon as she heard the transmission. She turned her head and stared in the direction that CC told her she would be spotting from. The opposite direction the placid face woman stared. She squinted, then lowered her chin to speak into her hidden mic. "Girl....! Girl, I don't see you. Where you at...?! Imps!"

<<Parasol there is looking deadass right at me. This Wallflowers bullshit is over. Now. Hang tight.>>

"I'm sure you're well aware, as a successful business woman. A healthy businesses must protect their trade secrets at all cost."

Was that a threat? It was as if the nameless woman knew what was going down. But it was true; trade secrets are worth fighting for. Corki was not a fighter, but she was still 'Magia' right now; in the zone. And this was not just protecting business. She had to protect her friend. Yet despite the heat flaring up in her mind once more, Corki shivered. It's happening again, ain't it...

And there over at the bus stop, she saw it. The face in the flames.

"The beach party on that island yesterday. I spaced. Then I told you I seen a vision of some guy on a phone. Fancy assed earrings. Bus stop. Girl, he's right there."

<<Eyes on him. So what? Could be any rando. Corki! Listen to me-->>

"NO, you listen. Just wait. Wait. He's heading towards the poster on the bus stop. Now. What letters did I say I'd see above his head?"

<<What the...? Girl, stop it! You are compromised! I'm getting you-- oh dear sweet lord and all his creations... Clickie! What the hell? Bruh, no what the hell kinda' voodoo... you playin'!! Girl, naw, you playing!!"

The man on the phone with the fancy-assed earrings stood in front of the torn and worn poster. The 2 letters above him were the exact ones Corki told CC she had seen.

"O. K. I told you I'd seen them letters: 'O. K.' It's alright. Girl, I'mma figure this out, 'kay? But you have to go. I need to deal with this. Me. You know how weird it gets with me sometimes... And it's weird right now. LIke you told me you'd be right behind me, Imps. You weren't. She saw exactly where you were. That shadow ain't a shadow, sis... "

<<Stop. Stop it. This is the really real world-->>

"Cherish... Girl. I asked you to really, really trust me before. You know what I'm talking about. On the level; I need you to really, really trust me on this too. You know I been trippin' my whole life. And now this is my chance. I need to find out why. For me, kay? But I still need you. But not like this. You have to go and leave me. I need you to work together with Powder. She really is a Witch. I need her. I need you. 'O. K.' right? Please, I need you to really, really trust me. Will you do that for me...? Please?"

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A pause lasting an eternity. Then: <<Corinna... I really, really trust you...>> CC actually sounded like she was choking back tears, <<you done so much for me... I swear though... if she hurts you...! Goddammit... Fine. I'll call Powder... that wack weirdo wannabe witch. Fine... You know you more than me. I just wanna protect you... so... so you gunna tell Diz, or wut...?>>

"Thank you... It's gunna be OK, 'kay? I swear I'mma be fine. And tell Dizzy... tell her; 'Seattle.' We'll chuck phones at each other in Seattle hahahahah..."

<<What the...? 'Kay. Right. It's OK. It's gunna be okay. Clicks... I'm out then. You take care of you. You my girl, girl....>>

"That's love. Thank you, Imps. And yeah... Girl, girl right back atcha..."

Corki clicked off her transmitter and undid her mic clipped to her overcoat. A sigh. Then she conceded a sheepish glance at 'Parasol' over there.

'A force beyond our grasp. An intangible devil at play...'

"Okay. Sorry about all that. That's so done, OK? No hate, mate," a smile, wink and nod, "soooo like shall we talk business then?"

---

"Hey, I uh, got your message..."

Pretty intimidated by both women, Brielle fell quiet and only mustered up enough courage to simply nod in greeting to Corki.

A dark brow raised and a side eye just could not be helped. Who in the actual eff in the face was this? Corki cooly eyeballed the skinny girl up and down then up again. Then her eyes popped wide in recognition.

"Oh, hey! You the one that I called about the photo-shoot, right? @BonesyJonesy amirite? Yeah, hiiiii!. I'm Corinna-Kiana. @MagiaClique. But you prolly know me as Corki. Your peeps did the last season's collection for ChroniCal...! Right. 'Kay... so I am in the middle of another... business venture right now. Suuuuuper important. But like I said to your editor, I reeeeeally want DJ in the shoot there with us. I spoke with her peeps and they sooooo down. But yeah, sorry you came all the way out here, but like, I'mma just have to contact you later. Like I already gots your number and socials so--"

Eliiot gave her a warm smile and a small wave. "Uhm, excuse me, Miss. I hope you know what I mean when I say this; I was sent here by a man who goes by Mr. Wallflower?"

Afterwards, he turned to the other two women.

"Hi, uh, are you two with her as well? Sorry to barge in like this."

Another side eye.

"Sorry, Bonesy. Just a seggsy-sec..." Corki held up a finger to 'Bonesy' in front of her as her head swivelled about to see just who in the actual eff in the face this dude was? Another person looking for Wallflowers...?

"Ey, what's good. And yeah, kinda' sorta.' So we just... wait. Like wut? 'Kay who is you supposed to be anyways--"

Shuffling, towards the group, his hand firmly over his bag as he tentatively approached. Hovering behind the group he spoke up after his silent approach,

"Mr. Wallflower sent me to you." his voice horse from not speaking in a long time.

My gosh... he's strapped...! The position of this rando's hand made her move reflexively in front of the smaller Bonesy, ready to grab her arm and run like hell if he decided to reach into that bag. She had seen too many bad things happen when dudes reached into their bags. But then she froze on the spot.

It was not another coincidence that some other dude was sent by Wallflowers. Still, sketchy dude be sketchy and so Corki held pat, yet legs readied just in case she decided she would try to out run bullets. A huge part of her regretted sending CC away right about now..
. "Riiiiiiight... Bruh. Be easy now... we just chatting here, 'kay--"

She stopped at the edge of the group, offering a politely distanced inclination of the head to the other members, then turned her attention upon the woman carrying an umbrella. "Hello. Mr. Wallflower sent me. Are you the contact here to meet me?"

A face-palm. All thoughts of fleeing fell to the way side when Pretty McPrettier-Than-Thou stepped up. This wasn't a trap. This was the Wallflowers Initiative. Just like the movies. The gathering of 'Earth's Crappiest Heroes!!' Actually no. Not really. This was the spin-off made for TV version... "Wut up, girl... Welcome to: 'The Agents of Chance and Chaos and... and Churros..."

Well, here she stood in a group of misfits, staring intently at a woman in a black suit with an umbrella, of which something seems off, a feature perhaps? Gena could not put her finger on it.

Yeah, this one deserved the side eye alright. Silent-But-Deadly Chica here was fancied up like some kinda' Walmart casino card dealer. Still...

"Nice kicks. Classic." Corki conceded with a small smile and shrug.

Finally, she actually took a look around and Corki being Corki, she pointed and laughed at all the grumbly, grumpy, goofies giving them mean mugs and eye daggers as they, all the newly gathered Agents of Churros, stood there taking up more than a fair share of sidewalk.


"Sorry, Bonesy... looks like the 'Wallflowers Ass-Emble app' is working... hahahaha. So like hey, once I'm done here, I'mma hit you up and take you out for some lunch tomorrow and we can talk shop... wait. Riiiiiiiiight... you one of the 'Church of Wallflowers converts' too ain't you...? Alright, alright. I see you. Well then. Awkward..."

A series of clicks ratlled away out the corner of her mouth. Then a clink, scrape and whoosh later, she was puffing away on a cig. "Sooooo like for real though, I'd ask you for your SmackChat buuuuuut thinkin' we both don't wanna risk using our phones cuz: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...!"

Corki vibrated her head side to side for effect when mocking the high-pitched feedback sound then she laughed and whipped out her cigarette pack again.

"Smoke? Anyone...? Come gets some! All good! Oh! And I gots sativa if anyone wants to hit the vape too...?"





 
BuggaBoo BuggaBoo ...

A normal person might find it awkward staring at a girl who was conversing with a person in their ear for a few minutes straight, pouring their heart out, rattling out a monologue that might put the Divine Comedy to shame.

But this woman seemed to resist normality. If the girl truly wanted privacy, she wouldn't be speaking so loud.
Eventually, the stone-faced contact turned back towards the perch, and the watch bird.

It seems whatever plan this rambunctious duo had, a paranormal wrench had just been tossed into it. Corki was practically sparkling, as the gears of her mouth moved at lightning speed. Whatever conversation was happening, the woman, strangely enough, seemed to be listening from both ends. As the debate was coming to an end, and a resolution was made between the odd couple, the woman was already nodding her head. As if she already knew what was about to be said. For the first time, there was an ounce of humanity in the statuette. It was barely noticeable, practically just a slight shift of her chest. One could even mistake it as a mere heartbeat.

However, there was evidence enough to say that there was a sigh.
The girl didn't even wait for a response. As soon as she was done with one conflict, Corki was already rushing off and starting more.

Not shortly after the first arrival, others sprouted shortly thereafter. 'Parasol' hardly moved a muscle. Outside a few acknowledging nodes, she stood aside passively as the manic pixie ran amuck on the misty morning streets of Boston.

The pale eyes calmly watched the frenzy from the safety of the blue umbrella.

Juju Juju seasonedcat seasonedcat Lillian_4 Lillian_4 RaiAthar RaiAthar SharkBark SharkBark ManicMuse ManicMuse

In just a short minute, Corki made accusations towards Theodore of bearing a concealed firearm, mistook Brielle for a previous contact for a concerning amount of time, rudely accosted a well-meaning Elliot, and insinuated to Daiyu that the gathering was akin to some cheap comic book narrative. Gena was only the latest victim caught up in the violent maelstrom known as 'Hurricane Corki'. But it looked like she got off rather easy.

The nurse-in-waiting had been sitting on the bench by the station practically since the sun rose. It wasn't that she hadn't been recognized by the agent, but the instructions were clear. The candidates need to make the choice for themselves. Based on how haggard she looked, the reports of her tumultuous employment must be on mark. Perhaps a greater force took sympathy this day, in sparing her from the walking social nuclear warhead.

There appeared to be a growing concern as traffic congestion threatened to trample the party. But they wouldn't be here much longer.

With a motion, her slender hand reached for a chain affixed to her breast pocket. Tucked inside was a round, copper watch. The hands ticked silently underneath strained glass. Indeed, the window of opportunity was nearly about to close. There would only be enough time for a few quick replies in the minutes remaining, and for any late bloomers to make attendance. Surely enough, there was already a cautious little flower sprouting at the last minute. As expected, based on the report of last night's amateur MMA fights, Isa might have still been reeling from the little 'accident' in the ring.

He was already cutting it quite close.
For any other late arrivals, it was now or never.

...
 
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Just a little after Elliot's arrival, even more new faces came along, all of them extremely different from what Elliot would see back in his home town.

There was a deranged looking boy who came along, speaking in a very hoarse and painful tone. He was basically the same height as Elliot, but the man's skin was a extremely pale, bordering the shade of the moon, and there were saggy bags under his eyes, a sign of either a lack of sleep, or anxiety. Maybe something else too was there too, but Elliot couldn't tell, he wasn't exactly a doctor.

Theodore claimed to also have been sent by Mr. Wallflower, which caught the musician off guard. He hadn't expected for there to be other recipients. So, if the pale boy was one, than the other two women were here for Mr. Wallflower as well.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Eliiot muttered to himself, but at the same time he took a small step away from Theodore.

Two more women arrived on the scene shortly afterwards. A girl with a beautiful butterfly clip in her hair, and a woman who sized up the group in confusion before stepping closer. As the little rally up grew
bigger by the second, some civilians walking by grumbled in anger, and you couldn't really blame them. The group was standing in their way, which didn't help with the fact that everyone was already in a hurry. But nonetheless, the strangers all huddled up around the Wallflower agent. Seems like everyone decided that speaking to her was more important than pissing off others by accidentally blocking off paths.

Regardless, there were many other factors about this encounter that made it even more congested, like Elliot noticing the scabs on Theodore's fingers. A small gag was evoked when he saw it, but he tries his best to stay quiet and ignore the ghastly sight. Just made the dude seem even creepier in Elliot's eyes. And to make things worse, the girl who seemed to have gotten here first nearly bolted when she thought Theodore over here was possessing a gun. ('my gosh, he's strapped!' had me dying)

Because of all this, Elliot shook his head and began to back up. "Nah, I don't know what the hell this is, but I want nothing to do-"

He stopped just short of a parting message as he nearly bumped into a girl standing several feet from the bunch. Or at least, Elliot thought they were a woman. Almost every feature about their face was feminine in Elliot's perspective. The lips, the eyelashes, the facial structure. Everything except the dreary, cold eyes. But because of this near crash, wasn't able to leave fast enough to avoid Corki speaking to him.

"Uhm, I'm Elliot-" Corki barely let the boy even finish talking before she ran her mouth to another person.

This couldn't possibly be worth enduring, right? That's what was going through Elliot's mind. But as he fixated his gaze on the Wallflower agent, he noticed that she had taken out a copper watch and now stared deep into the face of it, anticipating. But anticipating what? When was she going to speak again? What were her true intentions of bringing everyone here? Why did these other people agree to come? Was Theodore really strapped?

All of these question sparked more and more curiosity in Elliot, the one factor that has brought him here in the first place. So as his eyes flickered between the brash conversations Corki was starting, the hooded person, and the Wallflower agent, he took in a deep breath and walked back over to the group.

Because once again,
curiosity had damned the boy.

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Where Isa came from, one of the worst locales in Boston, he had to maintain a high degree of situational awareness at all times otherwise he wouldn't be standing here today. His misalignment gave him an edge over most people in that regard, yet that still didn't stop him from running headlong into trouble.

As a reaction, Isa gently placed a hand against the back-pedaling young man's back to brace his impact...in case it was needed. It wasn't needed, but from Isa's point of view it was always better to ere on the side of caution. When the sandy colored face turned towards Isa, the expression reminded Isa of how he used to look at himself in the mirror: bewildered; confused; uncertain. Rather quickly, Isa pulled his hand away from the young man's back, then politely whispered, "Sorry." His voice was deep and raspy, but hard to pin as either male of female.

It seemed to Isa that the amber haired youth ignored his apology or perhaps his presence altogether, preferring instead to re-enter the fray with an immodestly dressed woman that had not yet ceased to speak save for the pauses she was forced to make when taking in breath. Isa could barely understand what she was raving about from where he was standing. In his estimation 'people like that' usually had nothing of value to say anyways. He was more interested in what the umbrella lady would have to say, if she ever got the chance too, and when she would take him to meet Jesse Wallflower. He clenched his teeth as a sharp pain ran through his skull.

Maybe it was the headache, or the mild agoraphobia, or the smell of cigarette smoke, or a combination of all three -whatever the case was, Isa had just about had enough. He stepped forward into the group with his gaze fixed into the blue eyes of the immodestly dressed woman. "Sister, could you please...SHUT THE FUCK UP!" For a second, the crowd went so quiet that a pin drop could have been heard. Much to his dismay that not so little outburst had gotten the attention of at least a dozen pedestrians. This is exactly what he didn't want. "I'm just here to see this Jesse guy, not to listen to your dumb ass talk. Alright?" A side-long glance was given to the umbrella lady, "Can we please go now?"

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Brielle
When Corki took the call, Brie was left to stand quietly with the umbrella lady and tried to pretend she couldn't hear the dramatic conversation. How could she talk so openly on her phone in public? It always made Brie feel disruptive or judged. As if people would care enough to pay attention. Maybe this was just an extrovert thing? Then again, the outfit was enough to say that Corki didn't really care about what anyone would think or say. It was bold and expressive, and not in a bad way.

When the girl came back, Brie took out her phone and swiped aimlessly between her apps to give the facade of doing something. Things were awkward enough as it was without being seen as an eavesdropper.

She had hoped that just standing around would have been enough. She didn't know anyone here, and she wasn't wearing anything that would stand out. If she just kept her eyes down and her mouth shut she could probably avoid any conversation. That is, until Corki mistook her for someone.

"Eh? I uh…" Brielle sputtered, shocked by the completely wrong identification as Bonsey.

Brielle couldn't even get a word in as Corki continued to talk about some photoshoot. Face going red with embarrassment, Brielle tried to find a gap in the conversation to clear up the misconception, but as soon as the opportunity presented itself Corki put a finger up as if to put her on hold.

Speechless, Brielle could only blink helplessly at Corki as the situation only got worse and worse.

'I have to tell her. How do I tell her?'

As if things couldn't get worse, something, or rather someone spooked Corki, which in turn made Brie tense up. She turned around, noticing how Corki strategically placed herself between the 'dangerous guy' and her. It struck her as odd that she would be this protective of someone she hardly knew, but it was in a touching way. Or maybe she REALLY wanted that photoshoot? She really hoped she wouldn't be pissed that all this effort was for nothing.

Now that Brie got a better look, the guy looked kinda familiar, and had his hand on some hidden object (no doubt the reason for Corki's protective stance). Maybe it was her apartment rubbing off on her, but somehow Brie got the feeling the man was threatened more than they were. Or maybe it was the bags under the bags of his eyes. Dude looked like he hadn't slept in years.

'Geeze, I hope I don't look that bad' Brie thought, subconsciously rubbing a finger under her own tired eyes.

Just when she thought she had escaped Corki's attention, the girl fluttered back. Honestly, the promise of lunch made her almost want to keep pretending to be Bonesy.

"Uh yeah… about that. I uh, I'm not sure who this Bonesy person is, but I'm not them. I'm Brielle." Brie said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. She waved her hand in polite denial at the cigarette. "And no thanks. I've got bad lungs as it is. Mould in the walls or something."

Things seemed to have calmed down, that is until someone shouted. Brielle grimaced and covered an ear, frowning at the guy. She glanced around and noticed that some people had begun to stare at the group.

"So much for discretion…" Brielle muttered, shoulders slumped in defeat. If this Wallflower guy was her last hope, she was really starting to think it would be better just going home.
 
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The small scene the group brewed up had caused a few people to stop and look directly at them. Though in their curious eyes, there was not a hint of shock. Sudden outbursts and erratic behavior was quite normal in busy cities like this one. If anything, this probably wasn't going to be first manic phase anyone here will be witness to today. As awful as it sounds, this was just another form of entertainment. A point of interest in a rather mundane day. A pair of girls seemed to giggle as they pulled out their phones, hyping themselves up and squealing in anticipation of a brawl. Humans were social creatures, prone to mobbing. When there was one, another would follow. Surely enough, another screen flashed. But 'Parasol' wasn't interested in giving people a show. A particularly nasty look drained their enthusiasm in a heartbeat.

"I'm just here to see this Jesse guy, not to listen to your dumb ass talk. Alright?" A side-long glance was given to the umbrella lady, "Can we please go now?"

Before things can get any further out of hand, a cold hand was placed upon Isa's shoulder.
The gloomy lady stood there with cool eyes, expressionless as usual. But there was a hint of disappointment in the pursed lips.

"I appreciate you have gone out of your way to meet us despite all that happened last night. But I hope you understand from our perspective. Mr. Wallflower is making quite a risk to arrange such an ensemble. There are bound to be a few miscommunications with such a large and diverse group. It would be a shame to waste his efforts by bickering and fighting before we even get to know each others names, wouldn't it? Since you are so frustrated about the wait, l hope you will be overjoyed to know that it is now 9:15."

After speaking her part, the woman turned and glanced across the group of mixed faces once. Her eyes land on each of them under the moody gray sky. As if she was trying to make something up in her mind. But whatever contention within herself was quick buried beneath a swift shake of her head.

She quickly handed each of them a white flower from the bouquet, save for Corki , who received her own already.

"Hold onto these daffodils. Your life depends on it." without another word, the woman started wading through the crowds of people. Though they made a point of gathering at a train station this morning, there would be no carriage ride to their destination.

Instead, a more traditional method of traversal.

Her walking speed was not particularly quick, but it was constant, each step measured and evenly placed despite the pushing of people washing all around her. That said, the waves of bodies had waned a notable degree. The fervent energy of the morning buzz was no different than the effects of a cup of coffee. A strong, but fleeting intensity. A lull, then a crash. By this time, most people were either seated aboard the last morning trains, headed to their various jobs across the town, or already starting their shifts. Those who remained now were the desperate, bumbling down the stairs at South Station in dreary hazes, just in time to watch the last red cars vanish into bleary lit tubes. Maybe the sting of the chastisement from their bosses will make them thing twice about ignoring their alarms tomorrow.

Fortunately, none of them will be around to see the sad aftermath.

A few blocks down, the streets were rather cleared. It seemed strange considering how hectic it was just a few moments ago. Timing was everything in a city as busy as this. Know the typical schedules and you can avoid the pile up. Or catch them. The cold morning after a night shower was not a particularly great time to frolic in morning walks for most people. The road had diverted in the path led by the pale blue umbrella. Aside from her high heels, and curly blonde and black hair flowing past her waist they wouldn't get to see much of the figure holding firm marching pace.

Wherever her instructions had been, it was evident none of them involved serving as a tour guide. Without her guidance, the estrange party were left either to take in the atmosphere of the misty city or share short exchanges amongst themselves. From the looks of things, they were headed deeper into the city. The sight of the river and Boston Bay folding behind the horizon as they took a turn down underneath a looming concrete overpass. Boston, even among the Commonwealth, shared a particularly long history of strife. In many regards, the birth of a young, rebellious America is owed to what transpired in this very place. The womb where the stubborn American spirt was nurtured. The chests full of British tea from the colonial era can still be found in the harbor.

The growing pains can be seen in the strain of the aged architecture found all around them. The world simply cannot catch up to the rush of technology. For every neon-lit contemporary business sign touting a trendy new fad, a piece of old history, a statue of a forgotten figure, or the grave-like buildings that were forgotten in the renovation plans.

The party would be continue onto their unknown destination in this city stuck half in the past, ducking into small town streets, crossing intersections, and passing looming concrete buildings for the better part of an hour. Until, finally, the blue umbrella stopped still.

For all the grand gestures, cryptic messages, and secret arrangements of getting them all together, where they landed was not some famous landmark. Rather, the would be looking down the the sights of a bleak windy alleyway. There, at the foot of the zig-zagging stairs leading into the particularly quiet wrinkle between the tall reddish brick structures, sounds of the cars on the main street just behind the group somehow felt distant.

It seemed as old and as the famous Acorn Street, with a similar washed brick-and-mortar aesthetic, but markedly more haggard. The pipes running down the walls were brown with rust, and the creaky iron balconies creaked underneath the light breeze. There was even a fresh trail of vomit smelling of alcohol, trickling down into the rain puddles collecting in the cracked gray floor. One might question if anyone actually lived in the tightly packed apartment buildings, if not for the hacking of a man who refused to quit smoking decades ago. If there was a word to describe it, the place seemed rather forgettable. If any of them were familiar with cities, this wasn't particularly different than any of the other countless back alley streets found in these cramped human hubs.

The agent would wait for any stragglers or sightseers before commencing her descent into the cramped space. "Hold onto the flower." was all she would say.

It was barely wide enough for them to enter side by side, but the woman showed no signs of slowing down. Her heels echoed in the tight space, down the long path. Eventually, when they reached the end of the bend, she would turn into an opening. Then, when they would reach the end of that path, she flipped and did the same again. And for the next, the very same. They would pivot into several of the bleary, dimly lit alleyways. And truly, somehow it would feel like they were lost. For those paying any attention, they were only taking left turns. At some point, they would have to either be going in a complete circle, which was impossible, or an ever closing spiral. But then again, wasn't the alleyway between only a set of buildings? There couldn't possibly be enough space for this many paths.

Some might begin to question, but the woman showed no signs of concern. This illogical layout seemed ordinary to her.
Though, one might notice how she gripped the white flowers against her chest rather firmly the whole time.

It was difficult to say they were making any progress, as it was the same rust, brick, and iron everywhere they looked. Maybe it was the paranoia. Or the growing doubt. Somewhere as they navigated the senseless series of turns, there was a feeling that they were being watched. There was a sharp breath somewhere in the alley between each clicking of her heels, like a looming presence behind their backs. The kind of uneasy feeling of walking down an alley late at night. But no matter how fast they turned their heads to peek behind, or above to the bleak sky, there was nothing but themselves and the shadow of the walls. Those who would turn to their phones for comfort, see that any reception service was flatlined.

Eventually, after about six or seven, meandering left turns. She would make a right.

"We are here."

As if that was the key to the puzzle all along. Or maybe there had been another clue in all this.
Somehow, in the heart of the bending maze between the structures, was a wide parting that led into a hanging garden. They now stood underneath a canopy of colorful clay fruit. Rows of potted plants were strewn about, dandling from chords pinned against the red brick. There must have been a hundred different little breeds of flower, fern, and budding cactus amongst the various ceramic bowls and dangling planters. The greenery clashed with the dull, cold environment of the wet backstreet. Yet still, as peculiar as the sight was, the thriving plants allowed a reprieve after what they just endured. Something new to look upon, at the very least.

The lady wordlessly closes the blue umbrella, which had been unmistakably dry just a second prior. It was now dripping with water. As if it had just rained. Waving the folded instrument over a few of the potted plants, ginger shakes of an outstretched arm allowed the dew to wash the soil. There was a somber grace while she navigated through the urban garden.

"Poor thing... Mr. Wallflower forgot about you, didn't he?" she paused, bending over to a wilted lavender lily. She moves the arrangement of pots, which seemed to have blocked this particular one from receiving attention from the rain. She then cups water in her hands, from the umbrella, pouring it over them. Even if her face didn't really change, there was a warmness behind her glassy eyes as she tended to them.

"The door at the end. Just knock once. I will meet you in there, soon enough."

True to her word, just a short distance down the lush green and red strip was a pair of large wood doors atop a set of stone steps. There was no sign adorning this hidden place, but it was clear they had finally reached the so-called 'Wallflower Agency'. The name seemed more fitting, now. Upon approach, something was immediately wrong about the set of doors. There was no handle. Nor were there any windows on that floor. The only outlook were a few panels of glass affixed in a hexagonal circle far above, with a fenced balcony affixed underneath. At this obtuse angle, it was impossible to get any sort of preview inside the house of mystery.

The party has come this far. Do they make the final step?

...
 
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Elliot flinched slightly and made a quick turn towards the hooded woman as they finally spoke up, seemingly sick of all the talking and waiting. They first gave Corki a brash, ill-natured, 'shut the fuck up, before moving on to the Wallflower agent and insisting that they go now.

Elliot couldn't lie, he wanted all of the chit chat and anticipation to end as well, but he wasn't as bold to just throw it out in the open like that, especially in the way Isa did. Now there were a few couple pedestrian glancing their way. Not that it mattered anyway. Elliot was sure people were already looking at the large and peculiar bunch that were packed in the street already. All this did was add an extra feeling of disturbance to the table.

"Damn." Elliot murmured as he moved out of the way of another civilian. "I was wondering when we'd leave too but, that was a little too much."

Elliot glanced back at the Wallflower agent, who had been on the receiving end or Isa's message, which he had expected to be offended. But like before, she stood there expressionless. The only change was that she placed a hand on Isa's shoulder and began to speak to him. Quite kindly, if I might add.

Elliot didn't exactly mean to eavesdrop, but she was speaking loud enough to the point where anyone could hear what she saying. She was telling him about her appreciation of him coming out here, followed by statements of how things like this were prone to happen, but that they shouldn't act negatively towards each other anyway. Then the last part was intriguing. It was the one thing that indicated that it was finally time to go. The time was 9:15. The 15 minutes the letter said she would wait had come to an end, and now Elliot hoped that his curiosity would come to an end.

"Great!" he chimed in. "So it's time to go?"

To Elliot's disappointment, the Wallflower agent didn't provide him with an answer straight away. Instead, the woman quickly dispatched daffodils among the group, which happened so fast that the boy nearly dropped his. And afterwards, the agent told them to hold on to the daffodils, and that their lives depending on. Then, she began to pace away into the crowd, her umbrella the only thing preventing them from losing her in it.

Elliot looked towards the rest of the group, a confused expression on his face. "Are supposed to...? Do we stay here or...?"

He looked back ahead at the woman, noticing that the umbrella was going to soon be out of sight. What the hell are supposed to do here? Do I follow her?" The question dawned on his mind, but no answer prevailed. But as the top of the blue umbrella was almost completely gone, he decided make an erratic choice for himself. Elliot jammed the daffodil into his pocket and began to sprint after the agent, pushing his way through the impermeable crowd.

The pedestrians either yelped in surprise or glare at Elliot in anger as he nearly shoved some of the to the ground. The smell of early morning coffee or a heavy amount of perfume assaulted his nostrils as he got a bit to close for comfort so some people. It came to the point where he was so squished between civilians that it was almost hard to move, or even breath at that. But with intrepid efforts and a whole ton of apologizing, he was able to make his way through, clearing a path in the crowd for anyone who came along to get through. It was only until a few blocks down that the streets finally became clearer, and the agent was in sight once again.

"Hey!" Elliot called out. "Cmon, wait up!" To get straight to the point, she certainly didn't wait on him, leaving the boy to sprint after her once again. She had him crossing through intersections, dodging the scarce amount of people in the street, and almost dying from exhaustion. But soon, he finally caught up to her and was free to stop his endless running. Elliot panted loudly and dragged his body across walls as he dreamily continued following her, occasionally checking to make certain his daffodil was still in his pocket.

This process went on for what seemed forever, until finally, she stopped in her tracks. Now they gazed upon an empty alleyway, accompanied by a swift breeze of wind. Elliot twisted his face and looked around the area, still confused and also disturbed by it's starchy atmosphere. The alleyway was dimly lighted, which seemed to bring out the colors of the rusting metal more. There were bits of trash and spoiled food decorating the pale floor, which was a blessing for the rodents and bugs who resided there. And if that wasn't revolting enough, a rancid scent of vomit was in the air, hinted with a bit of alcohol as well.

"Please...tell me this isn't...our destination." Elliot asked between deep breaths. And once again, instead of providing an answer, the woman only told him to hold onto his flower. Quite rude, hm? But he wasn't complaining. It was his fault of being here anyways. And there was certainly no turning back now. In fact, Elliot wasn't even sure he knew the way
back to his apartment

Resuming what the boy deemed as a maze through the city, the Wallflower agent began to make her way through the putrid alleyway. And this time, Elliot followed close behind. Or at least, he did for the first few seconds. He began to stagger behind the woman began making sudden turns. They would walk in a straight path for a moment, and then randomly turn another direction. It came to the point where Elliot was accidentally rubbing up against the walls and needed to outstretch his arms to stop him from doing so. Then, on approximately their 9th turn, he began to think that they were all lefts. And to test his theory, he payed attention to the direction of the next 3. All of them were left turns. Which means..

Is she taking us in a circle? He thought to himself. Why did I follow this lady? I should've just stayed home.

Elliot was pondering on turning back after making the observation. But that wouldn't work out quite well with the others behind him. So, he decided to put faith in the woman for now, and hope that she knew where they were going. And alas, they did.

"We are here." The agent had said as their endless turns came to an end. Now, Elliot stood in the presence of something you'd never expect to see in a place of such poor condition as the alleyway. Life. Plant life, to be specific. A hanging garden was in the midst of the area, and above and around Elliot was an abundant amount of fruits and flowers. It was a beautiful sight. Much more pleasant that the rodent infested alleyway from before.

"Are we finally done?" Elliot asked. And for goodness sakes, he didn't get an answer again. At this point he should stop asking. The woman was more fixated in a wearing lavender, tending to it before finally saying,

"The door at the end. Just knock once. I will meet you in there, soon enough."

Elliot slowly turned towards the door she had mentioned. It among rambled stone steps and just a few feet away from him. There were two doors, in fact. Both made of tendered wood and large in quantity. Elliot hadn't noticed the absence of handles, or even windows, as he was now gazing at his fellow peers who had now arrived.

"Uhm, she said for us to knock on that door over there." Elliot said for the ones now arriving who possibly didn't hear it. "I'm sure as hell not doing that. So, who's stepping up?


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"Corki" - Corinna-Kiana - The Surfer/Skater Chick




Six-1.jpg
Well that was rude. Some Grand Theft Rando wannabe thug just came at her, walk-by yelling style.


Tan face held all scrunched up a heartbeat longer. One blue eye opened. Then the other. Of course, Corki broke the awkward silence with a laugh and a quip, "Soooo I take it you don't smoke then?"

A glance over at Brie. The ball of her tongue piercing clicked a few times onto the metal bead of her lip stud. Not the response she was hoping for. That expression told her that the skinny chick did not see any humour in the situation. Corki reached out and pat Brie on the shoulder, "Nawwww... don't droop, sunflower. The sun still gunna' shine on you. You just wait and see, 'kay?"

Another pat on the shoulder, then a smile wink and a nod. Her cheeks puffed out as she sighed, facing Grumpy McMuffin now, "Bruh, please. Be easy. Ain't no need to yell and cuss me out now. Just me trying to play nice with Bonesy, Els and the rest of my new homies here, 'kay?"

"I'm just here to see this Jesse guy, not to listen to your dumb ass talk. Alright?"

"Dang...! Wait. Bruh so you on the pilgrimage to see the great Wallflowers of Oz then? So you on the yellow bricks with my dumb ass too? Alright. I see you. Let's Goooo!" Corki held out a fist to bump, but Isa had turned their attention to 'Parasol', leaving her hanging.

Without missing a beat, she swivelled back to over Brie, unrequited fist at the ready,
"Girl, dap. Don't make me look foolish now. Dap me up, sis! Hahahahah...! Ey. Eyo check this out. See this white flower? 'Ms. Answer to the Riddle' gave me one. It smell so niiiiiiiice. Like she gots a handful of them. But if you don't get one, you can have this one, 'kay? Smell it!"

But there was no need. As if right on cue, the tall, stoney-faced lady started giving all the rest of them a single white flower. Corki smiled and nodded. She liked getting flowers and watching people get flowers made her happy too. A small laugh escaped her; it was like they were all given some kinda' achievement badge for completing the first tutorial in a video game.

"Ey. Thanks so much for the flowers. Loves it. But like sooooo you know all our names, right? But like... Hi! What's your name--"

"Hold onto these daffodils. Your life depends on it." without another word, the woman started wading through the crowds of people. Though they made a point of gathering at a train station this morning, there would be no carriage ride to their destination.

Instead, a more traditional method of traversal.

---

Corki had taken some time to herself and strayed to the back of the line. White flower tucked behind and ear, smoking a cigarette, familar resting-bitch-face in full display, she was lost in thought for the time being. At first she thought this whole set up was some kind of elabourate scheme, a trap of sorts to out her badly or embarrass her, made by those enemies she made over the past year. But there was that face that showed up. Dead-ass bang on like she had seen in the fire. Then if Wallflowers was legit and seeking, gathering and possibly aiding these 'Misprints,' the all goods right? But what about 'Parasol?'

Blue eyes honed in on the bobbing blue umbrella ahead of her. A pang hit her heart. She felt sorry for the stoney-faced woman. What had she seen that left her in such a doom and gloom state? Corki knew that she herself was awkward in public due to her being an unfiltered verbal tsunami, but upon seeing 'Parasol' standing there all alone, she could not help but feel sorry for the sad, lonely looking thing.

Fingers reached up and slid the flower away from behind her ear. White. A flash of memory. Those eyes. White and glowing in the deepening shadow neath that umbrella as she stare right in the direction of Corki's hidden protector, CC, as if she could see right through walls. Watching, waiting like a predator ready to strike. Those eyes. This flower. The heat sparked up in the dark recesses of her brain.


"Your life depends on it." Corki whispered.

Blue eyes popped wide. She shook her head and immediately scanned for the others, attempting to keep track of where they kept their white flower upon their person. One final drag on her cig then after a neat flickiing motion, up high it went and arched back down, sizzlling out in a puddle at the curb. A deep breath. An adjusting of her overcoat. Finally she hustled over to Brie, a smile breaching her lips once more.



Breezee getting Corki'd...



"Hi. Soooooo you not Bonesy then. I guess we ain't getting that lunch tomorrow right? N'awlright then. All goods. So you said you was; 'Brie..zee?' Uhhhh... yeah, hell yeah, you Breezee alright? Hahahahah...! Kay so like if 'No-Name-Only-Umbrella' over there lets us, we should get coffee and snacks or something? Amirite, girl? Like I am so buying for everyone-- wait! No! Dude! Had I known there would be this many of us, I should've just snatch n' go'd the food from my hotel! Bruh. Every morning they give out like this huuuuuuuge fruit platter and like sometimes if I want they will also give like these fancy-assed cheeses, crackers and chocolates! Ughs.

"Anywaaaaays... So like you gots any allergies? Cuz like when we done talking to Wallflowers... you and me should get something to eat or just like hang out right? We could see a movie or show too? Oh!! Do you like video games? My friend CC has a Nindento Stitch and she can set it up on the big TV in my room...?"


Corki had reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette, then remembered that Brie had lung issues and so she awkwardly stared at the little white cancer stick awkwardly, made a face like 'oops, how did that get in my hand?', laughed then returned the cig back into her pack. Of course, she rambled on about pretty much anything and everything all at once but mostly about her time here in Boston. All the while she checked and re-checked that the white flower was still behind her ear as she machine-gunned her stories for Brie.

Yes, she had been here before; she skated in a couple tourneys and shows. She was here to do promo for the summer Skate It Loud Tour and was part of a panel to do talks about the state of skateboarding and surfing, esp. about young women participation, and being a young businesswoman in the game. That photoshoot that 'Bonesy' was supposed to set up was going to take place next month and Corki had gotten a handshake agreement for her friend to model in it. DJ Chea-Soeur, the action star of the mind-bending 'Otherversity' series on NextFlits was in Boston and they had a meeting to talk about the photoshoot. In fact, spoiler alert, there was a skateboarding type of death battle scene that Corki had been asked to do stunts for the show in exchange.


---

"Omigosh!! OHMYGOSH!! Is that Corki?!! Dude, I am so dead right now! It is! IT'S CORKI!! What is up, MAGIAFAAAAAAMMMMM!!" a pair of teens crowded her bouncing up and down. Both hands they held up high with pinkie, thumb and middle fingers up, ring and index tucked in. The infamous Magia Salute.

They had taken several selfies and vid caps for Trik-Tox too. Corki happily signed their backpacks and shirts with silverpaint marker. She made sure to keep up with the group and so they chatted while they walked. The pair had taken a self-induced break from school to head to the pawn shop. Corki had inspected what they intended to sell. A smile pulled up from ear to ear when she saw the barely used penny board; purple deck with black wheels. Obv her style and scheme. She had gone into her wallet and pulled out a C-note. The pair of fans absolutely freaked out; 100 bucks AND an online voucher for free stickers and a promo
ChroniCal tee just for a little skateboard? The couple hugged her tight and gifted her a couple of water bottles, an orange and a bag of chips before heading on their way chattering loudly and excitedly as they went.

"Anyone hungry? Thirsty? My fans are so dope. That is love. I already ate so you all can have these, 'kay? Yo, Breezee! Hold alla this one seggsy-sec! Eyo check it! Check it, ♫ check it ouuuuuuuuttt-uh ♫!! New deck! Well, like brand new! Hup!! Watch out now, comin' throooooough!! MagiaFaaaaam!!

"
DANG!! You did not just see that ish?! Ya girl just ollie'd that pile of trash there! 10 outta 10! Corkiana done did it again!! Hell yeah, ME!! You wanna try, Easy-Breezee...?! I can soooo teach you. I been doing this since I was 3 and a half... Manuaaaaaaal--WHOA! Kay bad idea... it's slick out here...! But Dude...! That area looks like a quarter pipe!! I'mma break the high score... check it-- wut?

"Okayokayokay... this ain't a crime!! I'm just... not hurting no one... no sir. No sir! You just-- Nope. Not talking back... Alright, alright... alright!! There, see...? I'm walking now. Pitter-patter let's get at 'er... on two feet. See...? Yeah thanks. You too for real, for real. You have a nice day too. Ughs... freakin' cops. Bruh. Skateboarding ain't a crime... amirite, Breezee-girl?!"


---


All the unfiltered chatter and boisterous outburst of random action ceased the moment they had to go single file through that alley way.

"Hold onto the flower." was all she would say.

Yes, it was sexist, but Corki did not want to be the last to go, she wanted one of the guys to take up the rear. How many situations had she been in before. Like an idiot, alone, high or drunk, in the dark wandering around in a strange neighbourhood. Too many close calls; those creepy guys were definitely stronger than her, but nice and brave, helpful people were out there too and she was soooo thankful for them and so whether subconciously or not, she paid that forward by trying her best to watch out for her own friends, fans and family. A once over checking to see that everyone had their white flower, then she wrapped herself tighter into her overcoat, clutched her own flower tightly with both hands and march in rank and file, trying to make sure Breezee was always in front of her.

For those that were used to her blabbering away, Corki did not let out a single quip (thankfully?) for she had learnd that in an unsecure, sus place like a parking lot or alley, it was best to keep quiet so that you could keep and ear out for danger. And danger is what she felt as she pitter-pattered along with the group. It was as if they were being watched... the whole time. And those times she stared down at her flower to set her mind at ease... that breathing. She swore she could hear it. Dammit the hairs at the back of her neck stood up each time. It felt like it was right there behind her. Waiting, hoping. Like a predator in shadow.

Blue eyes popped wide. These flowers were not given out as some kind of noob achievement. No, Parasol was right; their lives depended on them. Corki took a nerve calming breath. She spoke finally, although it was barely a whisper. And almost a prayer.


"Don't droop, sunflower. The sun still gunna' shine on you. You just wait and see, 'kay?"

---

A huge sigh of relief when they took that last turn and found themselves in the garden. It was if a monumental weight had been instantly pulled off from her shoulders. Corki stretched her arms up high and half-squealed, half laughed with joy. Both her hands landed on the back of Brie, "Dang. That place back there...? Sus of the sussiest of sus, amirite? Ughsss. I felt all icky and like.. uuuuughs! Alla this sliminess all over me. YUCK!! But eyo! Breezee! Girl, you good now, too? And eyo, Els! And fellas! Thanks for watching our backs! Appreciate you! Wallflowers Powers!!"

"Are we finally done?" Elliot asked. And for goodness sakes, he didn't get an answer again.

Corki flashed her Magia Salute before pointing at herself. A smile, wink and nod at Elliot then she tucked her white flower behind an ear. With black and purple skateboard held at her side, she broke off from the group to follow the stoney-faced woman around. She marvelled at Parasol's 'little friends' all the while, peering at the pots high and low. The young woman dared not touch anything since this place seemed like... out of a kid's book. Kind of like when those kids went through that closet that had a magic tunnel through it that led to another world with talking animals and a giant Lion. Yeah, that's what if felt like. But still, Corki could not help but take a sniff here and there of what flowers and herbs grew out of the pots.

"So you talk to them too, eh? Yeah, I have a garden back at my house in Canada. I'm not very good at knowing how to properly care for my plants. But like my neighbour helps me. He and his wife have like a landscaping company? And they so nice too. Their kid comes by and skates in my little set up and bowl in the back. Let me tell you she is gunna be great when she gets bigger. Like she is great now... and soooooooo 'dorbie-dorbs! Bruh! Too cute, I'm dead. But like yeah, he tells me that talking to your plants helps them grow. They vibe offa' you... at least that's what he says so.

"Soooooo like before we knock on the door... you want any help with anything in the garden? Like I said, my 'garden-fu' is not as powerful as your 'garden-fu'... but like... I'm strong and I can climb sooooo if you need help, Corki is ya girl, 'kay? Oh! and Breezee gots my back, right? Like she talks a lot, but I'm sure we can get her to just calm down and help out fo'sho hahahahah...!"







 






NAME:
GENA
LOCATION:
SOUTH STATION > THE SECRET GARDEN?
WITH:
Stranger danger?
NOTE:
[






April 7th​


Gena was dragged backward into emotions tied to bad dreams and the cluster fuck that was college. It kin to that moment when you realized you were in the wrong class which seemed remarkably relatable to showing up to class naked in your dreams. The worst part was this was happening in real time. Despite interest in the clash of cultures around her, she could not help but wonder if there were cameramen hidden in the crowds with some host, just itching to reveal this was all some miserable prank show.

"Nice kicks. Classic." Corki conceded with a small smile and shrug.

She was suspected plant number uno. Not to mention the others, well, they all almost looked a little too messed up to be real too, come to think of it. Her gaze shimmed up and down Umbrella Lady again before giving a faint nod of agreement with herself. Rehab or intervention show. Given the look of this lot, they were all about to be Dr. Phil'ed.

But I've not signed a release. Hmmmm. The other's carried on around her as she weighed the chances of someone overlooking a release or them working on getting them to sign one after they all make fools of themselves. Rage at the idea of possibly being manipulated for entertainment caused Gena's cheeks to visibly pinken. She grew rigged but stayed silent.

By this point, she had focused on the others again. Still, she was working to draw content in the already highly turbulent conversation steeped in a stampede of morning foot traffic that was starting to thin as morning commuters were already committed to their fate of being on time or late.

Bar fight yelling at Corki, brought a bit of context. Someone was feeling anxious and redirecting anxiety to anger. Though poorly expressed, the outburst did bring down the tempo of the strangling commuters around them as everyone geared up to watch a fight that never happened. Instead, the authority, as it was known in the sense of the Wallflower Rep, defused the moment with more criptic words. Jesus, Gena was not cloak and dagger enough for this stuff. Where was a spy vs spy manual when you needed one?

With the tension passed, Gena started to suspect this was not a reality prank show; punches thrown would have been excellent ratings. Gena worked to tie this back to a completely normal job interview, and found herself grasping a white daffodil.

Well then...Wallflower, meet flower.

Watching Umbrella start off, after relaying the symbolic importance of the flower, Gena found herself following like a zombie. Too curious to give up and go home just yet. Still, the back of her mind teased that all that was missing was a fancy dancefloor where they could become the literal wallflowers. The cheeky thought made her smirk. The surroundings of the bustling city quickly muted to near-earry tones. Such places were not for those lacking in self-defense who wished to venture. Out of instinct, Gena found sunk a hand into her pant pocket with her free right hand. Fingers wrapped around a kubaton just as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and the flesh on her forearms turned to goose pimples. There was nothing to place the sensation on, but still, it felt off. Gena looked back over her shoulder and saw the others were also following. Good, power in numbers. Gena focused on the sound of footfalls from her own steps to pace her breathing. All the left turns felt like this was indeed leading nowhere. Gena began to calculate if Bar Fight would yell again before she would have to speak up but luckily for all parties, there was finally a right into a garden.

Oh dear god... wallflowers. An expression of annoyance drifted over her face as an instinctual reaction. Fucking flowers, maybe this is some new MLM. Gena felt like she was being pulled into a timeshare lecture where you had to stay to get directions on how to get out of the creepy alleys they had just traversed.

Elliot echoed the instructions, for which she was grateful because, quite honestly, she had been internally fuming and not paying attention. Corki started rambling about the stupid flower pots as Gena used the opportunity to sweep by and come to the door. The green tint of the door seemed to match much of the lush flora surrounding the space. Clearly, a color picked by the owner to play on their namesake.

Gena stood staring down the door as the voices of the oth- Corki faded into the background noise.

Taking in an inventory of events leading to this moment echoed through her mind. Was a feeling enough? Logic and measurable science were her sanctuaries. Others like to play with the veil. The veil was that which was not measurable. Emotions, a sixth sense. Not reality. Or was it? Gena had always pressed that down. Distanced herself from the unknown. Yet, it felt natural between getting that tape, the phones, and all that had transpired this morning. Gena needed answers, even if it was some timeshare trap on the other side of that door. The sensation from the alley swept over her again. And what was that? That felt real. Looking down at the flower in her hand, grasped just below the delicate petals, Gena decided to go in. Answers were in there; maybe it's time to poke the veil. Reaching out with her flowered hand, she gave a firm, crisp knock and then stared at the close details of the door and frame, waiting for anything to happen with the door that held no handle on the building that appeared to have only one way in and out.

 

Isa witnessed Umbrella Lady's particularly nasty look, the one that drained the enthusiasm from a pair of young girls in a heartbeat. This woman, he surmised, was dangerous, though not to him nor the other 'wallflowers' it seemed, at least not yet given that his misalignment hadn't gone off. Honestly, he wasn't too worried; he could handle himself.

Maybe...he thought, this Umbrella Lady was a government agent; working for the FBI. Isa had heard stories of the Bureau spending a hefty sum of tax-payer dollars fabricating schemes to entrap wanna-be terrorists, supplying them with the goods then arresting them before any real damage could be done. Isa certainly didn't see himself as someone with radical political views, but he was a practicing Muslim which meant that the proverbial magnifying glass had been over his 'kind' ever since 9-11 when two aircraft somehow brought down three buildings into their own footprint and a passport of some Arab Muslim guy fell from one of the obliterated aircraft and landed at ground zero unscathed. The official government story was a hard pill to swallow for Isa. Naturally, as a general rule, he didn't place his faith in the government.

In any case, Isa was not about to waste any breath to counter the verbal diarrhea that trickled out of Immodestly Dressed Lady's mouth. This had been a complete waste of time. He was about to head right back home; straight to his bed, but before he could get an opportunity to react, Umbrella Lady's hand reached out towards him...

Isa muscles tensed; his brows furrowed; chin angled inward slightly while the shoulders slightly raised to guard his jaw line. Behind those lips were tightly grit teeth. He was ready to simultaneously attack and defend with a straight punch over her arm; however, the Umbrella Lady's hand veered to his shoulder, outside his four corners of defense. There was no need to defend an attack that wasn't going to hit, obviously, so he didn't attack and realized that she had no intention of harming him, for the moment. He wasn't about to let his guard down yet.

Isa maintained his defensive posture, taking care to keep Immodestly Dressed Lady within his peripheral vision. Her voice was honestly coming in as a distant whisper to his ears. He thought he heard her call him a 'dumb ass'... To be fair, he was kinda 'zoned out' from the sudden rise in adrenaline (and the minor concussion) when he had falsely perceived Umbrella Lady's intent.

Unless Isa was fighting, he really didn't like to be touched. It didn't make him angry or upset or want to cry for his mommy (she was dead anyways), it was just really, really uncomfortable for him -he would say. His arms were at his sides; hands closed into tight fists. How did she know about his underground fight card? Maybe she was bluffing, trying to get him to spill something incriminating. Maybe 'they' were after him, whoever 'they' were. Then Isa had caught a hint of something in her countenance: disappointment. Isa figured he was being judged by the Umbrella Lady, but he was okay with that. Whatever her assessment of him was, it was likely on the mark. In his own mind, Isa saw himself as an introverted asshole with a chip as big as the moon on his shoulder. Did he want to be this person? Who knows, and who cares. In his world, Isa believed he had to be this person in order to survive.

Strangely enough, the rest of what Umbrella Lady had to say put Isa at some ease, though her hand on his shoulder was still really, really uncomfortable. Those few words from Umbrella Lady had convinced him to follow her, so he found himself accepting the daffodil into his outstretched hand...

Asides from his mother, no one had ever given Isa a flower before... This was truly a first time experience for him. Consequently, the light brown skin in his cheeks flushed... Wasn't this the type of thing that guys did for girls, not vice versa? Was she poking fun at him? No, he thought, she had given out the white flowers to everyone in the group. With that realization, he breathed a sigh of relief through his nose, followed by rolling of his eyes and another deeper sigh/nasal growl when he noticed that Immodestly Dressed Lady was sporting a white flower in her hand as well.

Hold onto these daffodils. Your life depends on it, Isa repeated the words in his mind. A subdued smile momentarily came over his dark lips. Damn, she was good...or damaged goods. As wild and ridiculous as that statement was, he couldn't sense an inkling of subterfuge from her, so Isa stuffed the daffodil down the collar of his hoody, behind his t-shirt and partly into his sports bra. The head of the flower was peaking out from his neckline. He would fall in line somewhere in the middle of the group. Why the middle? Because his misalignment would hopefully afford him with enough time to react if anything life-threatening to him were to approach from the front or rear. If he were too far forward or at the very rear, there was a very real possibility that he may not be able to meet that threat before it reached someone at the opposite end. A threat that triggered his misalignment could just as easily be a threat to the people next to him -the accident that his family died in was testament to this fact.

Isa wasn't trying to be a hero... His behavior stemmed from a derangement of the mind more likely. Ever since that time at the overpass... His left eye had been bleeding profusely and the pain in it was practically debilitating, intensifying with every step that brought him closer to the edge. The imminent threat to Isa's life was none other than himself. In a way, he saw this moment as one of his greatest defeats. Something else would kill him inevitably; however, he wasn't just going to let it kill him cause that would be tantamount to suicide. At the Mosque, he was taught that suicide was a one way ticket to hell. Hell couldn't possibly be better than where he was now. That's partly the reason why he trained so hard. All that blood and sweat, and the tears that he had never let anyone see, there was purpose to it.

Moving through the crowd wasn't terribly difficult for Isa, not with a resting bitch face that figuratively said: poke me if you wanna get shanked. Of course being small and having good reflexes helped, too. From Isa's point of view, when he looked backed over his shoulder every so often, Elliot just was not having it. In the time it took for Elliot to catch up, Isa witnessed a pair of teenage girls paying homage to a false God(ess). He heard the effervescent young idolaters refer to their deity as Corki, and they came bearing gifts: a couple of water bottles, a bag of chips and an orange. Several times, Isa had caught his eyes being drawn over to the foodstuffs in Corki's possession. Isa was no stranger to training during intermittent fasting. Training all throughout the month of Ramadan without missing a single fast was practically no different than any other month of the year... In short, Isa would sooner starve to death than accept food from that she-devil.

The rusty pipes and the funky smell from the water reminded Isa of the neighborhood he currently lived in. Business as usual, nothing new for him to see here. On the other hand, what was happening as Isa followed the Umbrella Lady and her 'wallflowers' into the alley was beyond his ken. Kind of like the origins of his misalignment, he just couldn't explain it -it just was. He was sure there was a perfectly rational explanation for it; some sort of cause and effect relationship had to be there. Things didn't happen 'just cause'.

When they finally arrived, Isa lips parted in awe at the scene before him. He had not expected to see a hanging garden in the middle of this shit-hole. Memories of his mother, Minnah, floated out of the subconscious and into his conscious mind. To say gardening was his Mother's hobby was an understatement. The front lawn was more like a jungle; a beautifully organized chaos. No matter how far gone a plant was, Minnah could bring it back from the brink. Most of the plants in the front lawn were actually rescuees from the lawns of people in the neighborhood Isa used to live in as a child...before the accident. Everything in the house had to be about plants as well. Flower print shower curtains, towels; paintings, vases, decoration pieces always with plant motifs. Even Isa's comforter and bed-sheets were flower-print. He laid atop that very same comforter and bedding this morning. The care Umbrella Lady gave to the plants reminded Isa of how his mother was with plants...and her children. Behind that cold and withdrawn exterior, perhaps was the heart of a woman who was more human than she let on.

The sound of bone on wood moved Isa's primary focus away from the Umbrella Lady's activities. Redhead had beaten everyone to the punch, or rather the knock, cause there was no way she'd beat Isa to the punch. He suspected Jesse or another one of his agents would momentarily be out to usher them all in. In the back of his mind, he was kind of hoping there was a large table in there that was decked out with gourmet foods.
 
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Brielle
Brie shook her head at Corki's question about cigarettes and chuckled nervously "Uh, nah. I've got a lot of things to remember as it is."

What she didn't say was that keeping track of every thrown away butt would get out of hand in a hurry. She could already imagine a charred piece of cigarette falling to the floor, forgotten under her couch, waiting to turn into something hideous.

"Nawwww... don't droop, sunflower. The sun still gunna' shine on you. You just wait and see, 'kay?"

Brie blinked in surprise at the friendly pat on her shoulder, albeit feeling a little awkward to receive one from someone she just met. Still, both the gesture and the words offered a much needed sense of warmth, like someone was looking out for her. Come to think of it, if everyone here was seeking the Wallflower Agency, it was very likely that they all needed some answers to questions they'd rather not ask. The sleep-walker guy certainly looked the part. Corki on the other hand seemed chipper than anyone she had ever met. Could she possibly have a hidden trouble as well?

Just how many unseen horrors were out there, lurking in the dark corners of Boston's synthetic glow? She thought about this as her chatty companion talked with the shouting man. Her mind was so lost that she hardly seemed to notice the daffodil being offered over by Corki. She looked down at it in mild surprise, her mind putting Corki's words slowly back together. "Oh, its a daffodil. They're spring flowers, the first one that blooms I think. Oh, uh but if you got it as a gift you really shouldn't give it to me. I'll probably just lose it anyway..."

As she said this, Mrs. Umbrella pressed a daffodil into her hand. Brielle considered giving it to Corki for safekeeping, until she heard the significance behind it. Swallowing a breath, Brie held the flower to her chest in a death-grip.

Brielle walked next to Corki, silently holding her flower with a troubled look on her face. She probably would have fallen into another brooding session if it wasn't for Corki sparking up another conversation. Brie really couldn't fathom how she did it.

"Hi. Soooooo you not Bonesy then. I guess we ain't getting that lunch tomorrow right? N'awlright then. All goods. So you said you was; 'Brie..zee?' Uhhhh... yeah, hell yeah, you Breezee alright? Hahahahah...! Kay so like if 'No-Name-Only-Umbrella' over there lets us, we should get coffee and snacks or something? Amirite, girl? Like I am so buying for everyone-- wait! No! Dude! Had I known there would be this many of us, I should've just snatch n' go'd the food from my hotel! Bruh. Every morning they give out like this huuuuuuuge fruit platter and like sometimes if I want they will also give like these fancy-assed cheeses, crackers and chocolates! Ughs.

"Anywaaaaays... So like you gots any allergies? Cuz like when we done talking to Wallflowers... you and me should get something to eat or just like hang out right? We could see a movie or show too? Oh!! Do you like video games? My friend CC has a Nindento Stitch and she can set it up on the big TV in my room...?"
'Breezee? That's a new one. I guess its better than a cheese...'

'Man, I don't know if I can afford a movie AND a meal. That's just pushing it. Ugh, but it'll be rude...'


All the talk of food made her remember her skipped breakfast this morning. She had been so nervous her appetite had completely vanished and was replaced by a sickened feeling. Now that her stomach had been reminded, it did it's job in reminding her that it was full of emptiness. To cover up it's growl, Brie spoke up, "No food allergies but-"

She was cut off when a group of teens approached them. Well, approached Corki. She was some sort of celebrity apparently, though it should have been obvious by the would-be photoshoot. Brie stepped a little to the side, hoping she wouldn't get caught in a picture. The bags under her eyes were really starting to show. She pulled her hood up and looked away, holding her daffodil like a lifeline.

It was almost torture to hear Corki ask if anyone was hungry. Brie certainly was, but she was too embarrassed to beg for scraps. Still, she turned around to take a peek of what snacks had been gathered. That's when Corki piled everything into her arms. Brielle let out a little squeak of protest as she almost dropped not only her flower but everything else. It was a good thing her jacket was puffy, otherwise the water bottles or orange would have fallen onto the filthy concrete. In her famished state, she couldn't think of a worse crime.

She wondered if she should put them in her bag, then froze with fear. The allure of food almost made her forget how dangerous a random gift was. Out of habit, she went through her list in her head, completely toning out Corki. When she had gone over everything in her bag she added the newest additions. She muttered it aloud to herself, "Two water bottles, a bag of chips, an orange. Two water bottles, a bag of chips... and an orange."

Corki wasn't even asking about them. Did she forget them already? As Brielle placed each of the items in her bag, she could feel a new seed of dread in her gut. Corki could forget them but she could not. Just for safe measure, Brie checked that everything was still in her bag. Once she was absolutely sure nothing had gone missing, she went over her 'dont-forget' list once again in her head, opting to follow the pack mindlessly.

It was only after the staircase repeated itself a few times that she seemed to snap back to reality and notice the oddity of their situation. It was all at once strange and yet familiar to her. No, it was much more than that; it felt just like home. A deep well of despair rose up in her chest, threatening to bubble out as a cry. Had she just walked into the same thing she had been trying to find answers to? The thing she was trying to ward off? What if the answers were much worse than the question? What if this madness would never end?
"Don't droop, sunflower. The sun still gunna' shine on you. You just wait and see, 'kay?"

Brielle held her daffodil over her heart, knuckles white from how tightly she gripped it. Unlike the others, she didn't feel a sense of relief when they reached the end of the stairs. She was probably the only one here who knew that thing that called itself a staircase not a fluke in reality. While they would all know it as the strange stairway, she would only know it as confirmation that her apartment was not alone.

When she first moved in she had thought the place was haunted. Maybe it was, but what people thought 'haunted' meant was all wrong. Maybe it wasn't dead people who possessed houses, maybe the houses themselves had a spirit. The only thing she was certain of was that everything went wrong when she stepped into Mrs. Sanchez's apartment

Gloomily, Brie nodded her head, having heard nothing of what Corki had just said. "Uh, yeah..."
 
Theodore's hand again moved to his face to continue his bad habit, only to be met with the fabric of his black mask. Internally he swore uncomfortably and let his hand fall back to his side. Shifting his feet instead to distract his nerves, he looked over each person, jumping through them as they talked. He was hovering on the edge of the group, he observed, grip on his bag tightening when anyone shuffled too close to him—pressing his fingers into the scabs on his fingers to distract himself, picking at them with his thumb in vain attempts to replace his lousy habit while he couldn't.

As the flower was handed to him, Theodore looked down at it, uncomfortable, chewing on his lip as he took it into his hand, the one not in his bag. White daffodils are flowers often used in funerals. He had drawn this flower many times in his works. He did not enjoy it being passed to him this time. His mind drifted back to a few of the book's images of flower petals soaked in his blood.
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Not from the temperature, an icy shiver danced its way through his body as he stared down at the flower before shaking his head. He wanted nothing more than to get rid of the flower, to get it as far away from him as possible. Of course, instead, he shifted the flower in his grip as he looked at the fleeing group. The skin on his lip broke, blood falling from the skin down his chin before soaking itself in the dark mask.

With one last blink, Theodore took pace behind the previous person, choosing to follow them, hoping they could see the disappearing woman in the crowd. As crowds formed around him, Theodore gripped his bag with a death grip, glancing at every passing face in deep fear. People bumped into the distracted man a few times, leading to him flinching and looking at them, terrified. The sunken eyes filled with fear made them uncomfortable enough not to need a sorry after seeing him.

As they came to the quaint, hidden area, Theodore grew very uncomfortable, floating tightly behind Brie -the person he had been following- so that he could reach out and grasp her coat. There were too many shadows, too many places for it to grab him. He hated it, his hand reaching towards Brie's jacket a few times before hesitation letting his hand freeze, ghosting just above the fabric until they made it through a difficult place. Thankfully she hadn't noticed his ghosting hand on her back.

Theodore continued to hover; they reached their destination, his eyes on the door in unease. He would not be touching that door himself. He knew that he would not bring his hand up to that door. The apprehension was more than enough when mixed with his despise for doors to lead him to not wanting to go near them. He just hoped someone else would have it open if he needed to go into it. Thankfully someone else took the initiative to knock on the door, sweat prickling on the back of his neck. He wanted to go back home, where the shadows were gone, and the doors were open. Where it was safe, the walls held him in tightly but not constricting him. Outside, the air was pushing against him, laughing at him. Things lurked in the shadows, and he didn't want to be near them.

Shakily, he raised his arm again to hover behind Brie's jacket. He wanted to grip it tightly, but he did not know this woman. She did not know him, but her energy felt the same. Desperate and alone, hunted by something that couldn't be seen. Maybe it was just his imagination or closer to the trauma inside them clicking together well. Or perhaps it was the fact she had been the one in front of him. Either way, the occasional brush of fabric on his fingers was enough to comfort him right now to keep his heart in his chest. He just hoped whatever would happen before his heart beat itself to death.
interacted Juju Juju Euclid Leaf Euclid Leaf | mentioned BuggaBoo BuggaBoo ManicMuse ManicMuse RaiAthar RaiAthar Lillian_4 Lillian_4 SharkBark SharkBark
 
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... Juju Juju BuggaBoo BuggaBoo ManicMuse ManicMuse RaiAthar RaiAthar SharkBark SharkBark Lillian_4 Lillian_4 seasonedcat seasonedcat

"So you talk to them too, eh? Yeah, I have a garden back at my house in Canada. I'm not very good at knowing how to properly care for my plants. But like my neighbour helps me. He and his wife have like a landscaping company? And they so nice too. Their kid comes by and skates in my little set up and bowl in the back. Let me tell you she is gunna be great when she gets bigger. Like she is great now... and soooooooo 'dorbie-dorbs! Bruh! Too cute, I'm dead. But like yeah, he tells me that talking to your plants helps them grow. They vibe offa' you... at least that's what he says so.

The woman didn't take her eyes from the flowers, but something of a smile formed on her expressionless features. Perhaps this was a topic that she had preferred? She seemed much more animated in the garden. But something of an excitement can be detected in her slow, careful movements. It might be the way the woman glanced up at Corki every now and then, making it wholly known that she was paying attention.

"Yes... They absorb the biproducts from our breath to turn into oxygen." she says in a plain voice.

Finished trimming one of the blue orchids, she stands up and motions over to the a series of pots running alongside the wall. The woman approaches the larger vessel in the middle and cradles a stark red flower with dropping cups, checking its health under calm white eyes.

"These are also from Canada... Red Columbines. Perhaps you have a few in your own garden?" beginning to drip water from her umbrella to her fingertips, "I've never been far from here. This place has been my home for a long time..."

"Soooooo like before we knock on the door... you want any help with anything in the garden? Like I said, my 'garden-fu' is not as powerful as your 'garden-fu'... but like... I'm strong and I can climb sooooo if you need help, Corki is ya girl, 'kay? Oh! and Breezee gots my back, right? Like she talks a lot, but I'm sure we can get her to just calm down and help out fo'sho hahahahah...!"

The tall woman shakes her head, though a clear amusement can be seen somewhere tickling her flat pink lips.

'Umbrella' looked down at Corki, who was trying to make a case of helping her of all people reach higher places. Not to mention, the fact that the 'talkative' one, according to this wild flower, was to be the silent skeletal girl standing awkwardly off to the side. She looked like she could barely muster a few sentences. And what was this? The skeleton seemed to have a frail ghost clinging to her. That poor Theodore looked like he was going to faint at any moment.

There seemed to be a short debate among the group over who was going to approach the 'spooky' set of doors first. It would appear some of them still had doubts whether not to trust the lady who treated people like plants, and plants like people. Or the mysterious riddle maker that organized the whole meet-up of the odd and estranged. Though, part of that may have been the unsettling experience traversing within the strange alleyway itself. From the looks of things, many of them have yet to experience a single supernatural phenomena. Until now, at least. But those who have, perhaps that was all the more reason to harbor doubts and fear. Trauma is a strict, unforgiving teacher. But, unsurprisingly, the oldest of the pack managed to shake off their nerves and take the initiative.

When Gena made her first move, 'Umbrella' quickly straightened herself out and stood up from the garden she had been tending to.
"No, I don't think this is an appropriate time... Mr. Wallflower is waiting."

She immediately began to move past Corki. But stopped somewhere in the middle. "But perhaps, whenever we have some leisure, I will be able to show you around. Maybe you can teach me... hm, how do they say it... your Canadian green-thumbs?"

And just as she moved up from behind the members of the group, the door began to shift. But it was not the familiar male voice they all heard on the recording. At least, not alone.

"Looks like your new mutts have arrived, Wallflower..." growls a gruff low voice from beyond the walls. Likely, another male.
"It would appear so! May I request, we postpone this meeting to another date? I would offer for you to attend the interview process, but I'm sure you're all so awfully busy." there was the solemn tone of Jessie himself, but based on the shuffling of chairs within there were more than just two people inside the agency.
"Don't try to weasel your way out of this one, Chief. We still need to hear what you are going to do about the missing students from Harvard. We have strong suspicion that it may be the Factor 3 located there. What have you done in this regard?"
"The investigation is still pending. So far, there is no culprit."
"Open your eyes to the facts. A bomb is a bomb, Mr. Wallflower."
"We don't apprehend people based on assumptions."
A somber, lazing tone pipes up in the discourse. "And you don't think it has anything to do with that?"
"As far as I can tell, it is unrelated."
"Heh. And that's the root of your issue, isn't it?" says another voice, one husky and feminine, "You let a lot of undesirables roam free in Boston. You have names. Why don't we just lock the lot of them up? That'll reduce the number of risks. Remember what is at stake here."
A yawn sounded, the voice strained like the person was mid-stretch. "I agree... Just lock up the freaks... I'm tired of playing these little cat-and-mouse games."
Mr. Wallflower found himself battling against a chorus of dissenting voices. Still, he appeared to remain calm despite the growing backlash. "Not all supernatural entities possess malicious intent... Let alone the distinctness of emotional autonomy. Most of those 'freaks' happen to be people too."
"And look what your clemency has amounted to. Five missing persons cases, and sixteen misalignment-related incidents. That is only within the last two weeks. Double in comparison to the entirety of last quarter. In what regard, is this whole situation under control, Mr. Wallflower?"
"As stated in the very same reports, we have dealt with the leaks."
"Is that all your good for? Patching up holes? We can do that ourselves. I'm sure we will be able find the target just as easily. Just give us control. Clearly you can't handle the situation."
"Only once we have identified a source, are you permitted to act in Boston."
"How many people go missing before you take real action? Once a week? Twice? I'm starting to think you little monsters don't even care who dies, as long as its not yourselves!" shouts the same shrill female. But this time, before she was able to finish her outburst a low bass tone drowns her words.

This single voice silences the bubbling commotion from within.
"We understand the drastic circumstances surrounding your anointment into office, Mr. Wallflower. My sincere condolences. But my colleague is correct. I must stress the severity of the current situation. The world isn't as safe and caring as a garden. It isn't going to patiently wait for you to grow into your position. We have an oath to respect the sovereignty of Boston. However, the both of us have a duty to keep the public safe. Regardless if we have to snip a few weeds to do so. If this gets anymore out of control. You know what will happen. We need to see results. We need answers."

There was a pause before Jessie responds. "Give me a week. We will find a trail."
"...For all their sakes, Wallflower. You better. We are leaving."

Suddenly, the thudding of footsteps can be heard approaching the door. With an audible finger snap, the door swings back revealing a towering sunken old face. Aged like a grape left in the sun. One might easily mistake the hulking man for a feral animal, if not for the black unmarked uniform adorning him. The looming figure was donned in a finely tailored black suit, and overlapping overcoat slung from his wide shoulders. Though it resembled more a small cape, with his size. He lips were hidden beneath a bushy graying beard, as were his dark eyes underneath wooly black eyebrows.

"Don't worry about Alif, he is not accustomed to America yet." muttered a familiar deep tone.

Behind the giant, steps forward a solemn, mature face. The man was clean-shaven, his features sharp and orderly. Down to even the perfect curl on his comb-over. Based on the obedience displayed by the massive man, who stepped aside upon the approach of this figure, this must have been the origin of the overbearing authority that silenced the angered souls within. But the beady, sunken eyes never stray from the group of mismatches.

The leader's black uniform appeared to be immaculate, made differing only by the white mark of a symbol of a spiraling elliptical sun across his sleeves. The very same stamped upon the documents granted by Jessie a few days prior. He was accompanied further by a set of four faces. Their uniforms seemed to deviate from the first two. A clear deviation in rank. Or perhaps an indication of a system of command. But what stood out were the bronze wreathe-like adornments around their necks. In fact, retrospectively, one of these strange objects could be found squeezing the wrist of the giant. They may have shared the same allegiance, but the others appeared more like shackled, untrusted conscripts than brothers-in-arms.

"This is not our most gracious introduction. I do apologize. To get to the point, we are the BPA. We deal with supernatural entities, not unlike Mr. Wallflower. I'm sure this is a lot to take in. I would say we should have a proper introduction in the future. But should we come for you, an introduction will be the least of your concerns." he says with a straight face, before cocking his head to the side. The group immediately begins to shuffle out, and down the stairs leading to the hanging green garden. In the cast shadows in this lost, disoriented alleyway, the black-clad members of the cohort quickly vanished out of sight beyond the lines of overgrown pottery.

A short cough, and the last of them slows down and swirls their body around.
This one, was a slender female wearing a large winter coat underneath the stiff black coat. Her body was a mural of strange alien symbols. Only her face was sparred the sprawling ink marks, though not free of slight alterations in the form of piercings. But her charming features were marred by an especially sour expression. She didn't seem to care enough to hide the judgmental gaze of her piercing yellow eyes. The long black hair sweeping back, as she turns her head to glance at each of the members in the group.

"Huh. Don't see what Jessie sees in any of you. The idiot always tried to shelter strays. But he should know better. You can never tame a wild animal."

And at the mention of the man of the hour, Mr. Wallflower finally makes his appearance. His pointed dress shoes made a distinct punching sound on the wooden floor as he stepped out of the doorway and onto the cold stone steps. The man was as thin as a pine tree, his frail silhouette buffered out and off-set by the thick brown overcoat. His attire was much more traditional than the contemporary stylized versions adopted by the agents of the BPA. What with the cotton pinstriped waist jacket and pantaloon buttoned high-rise trousers. But what made him appear less out of a historical textbook, and more from a niche fashion magazine found in current era, were the pair of circular black shades that covered his eyes and lack of facial hair. His hair also a modern cut, if not a bit unkept, a wavy blonde and white mess atop his head. Like the overused bristles of a painter's brush.

"As much I would love for you to stay and chat, I think it's time for you to go. Oh, and mind your manners at my home. These are my guests." he waves, fixing his velvet bow tie. Despite the tone of his words, his expression was that of a smiling gentlemen.
"Dress them up in all the fancy clothes you want. And flowery names. But you can't hide from the truth."
She sticks out her pierced tongue, sticking out a middle finger at the waving man. And just as she passes by 'Umbrella', her expression turns to that of a sneer.

"Later, Jessie." she says, vanishing behind a series of lush flowers.
"Pleasure as always, Marigold."

The moment the BPA were gone, Mr. Wallflower turns his attention to those gathered at his request today. With the weight of the confrontation still clinging to the stale air, the man claps his hands together and lets out a cheery laugh.
"My! What a bunch of... interesting individuals! Seeing as all we could work off were profile reports, I didn't know exactly what to expect. But even I'm surprised! Haha... Ahem. Looks like we have a full house today. Ms. Seoyoon, may you prepare a kettle of warm tea for our guests? The big one. Oh, a nice citrus blend, please. Nothing better to rouse the spirits!"

With a simple nod of her head, the blue umbrella disappears into the building.

"Well? No point in freezing out here! Come in." he says, gesturing them through the doors.
"We have a lot to discuss. I'm sure you all have plenty of questions."

Behind the large wood doors was a place that seemed entirely too large to exist within the dainty little entrance. Somehow, though it was clearly so large, it felt entirely too cramped. Part office, part home interior, the reception hall held all the comforts of a house, such as cushy, lushy couches and tacky lamp fixtures, as well with the messy hallmarks of an office space. Stacks of papers, documents, and tab folders laid scattered about, as far as the eye can see. Scribbled post notes and floppy, ripped calenders acted as a layer of wallpaper. Seoyoon was already making her way towards a kitchen area to the back of the ground floor, opening larders and cabinets as instructed. She even had to push aside a full stack of newspapers off the stove top to make room for the huge antique closed kettle.

At a glance, the agency was erected not from one, but multiple floors that stretched high upwards with an iron spiral staircase. Four, at the very least. There seemed to be no end to the spilling maze of stacked papers and hand-written forms.

"Aha... Sorry about the mess. Given our shortage of staff, we have trouble sorting through every new incoming and developing inquiry. The fact we can walk around at all, is all thanks to our dear, Seoyoon. Forgive her demeanor, she is in fact an angel sent from above. Without her, I can't imagine what sort of disarray this place would be today."

He motions to a space at the center of the stockpiled mess, a meeting area with an assortment of chairs, cushions for the less inclined, and leather sofas, all bundled around a large round wooden table carried by curved legs. At the epicenter sat a plaque and a human skull. At least, what could be assumed to be a mere replica. This was not the only strange artifact found scattered here in this space of absolute disorder. All around, whether buried under something, or affixed to the wall, were strange wooden carvings, bone charms, and other minor things associated with witchcraft and the occult. The man heaved as he lifted a huge stack of binders by the entrance. The colorful tower of shapes wobbled like a Jenga at the edge of collapse, as he rushed them over to a rare empty spot on the floor. Kicking a few overweight books into place, he manages to keep the entire thing from tipping over and causing a small, though that might be an understatement, avalanche in the place.

A problem for another day.

With a sigh, the lanky man returns to the party, settling down on a wooden rocking chair besides the table.
Unfurling his long spindled, weathered overcoat, he drapes it across one of the curled wood arms. With a sigh, he pushes the short locks of blonde hair from his face, and adjusts his round black shades. Unable to get a clear view of his eyes, the only anchoring point on his face for anyone to look at, was the upturned smile.
Finished now with making himself homely, with a snap of his fingers, the doors at the entrance swung closed once more. And one could swear, from the inside, it looked like a pair of translucent hands had pushed the handleless oaken slabs and disappeared. In the cramped, dim-lit chambers, the shadows of his eyes almost danced in the amber lamplight.

"Anyway, let us... Ah! Terribly sorry. I don't think I've introduced myself. An audio recording is one thing. But I prefer to do these things properly." he extends a bow, "I am Jessie Wallflower. In case you got lost somewhere along the way. And welcome to my paranormal investigation office. Please, make yourselves at home."

He leans back and does a wide gesture of his arm, as if presenting an impressive grand loft. As if timed perfectly to sully the mood, behind him, the shrill whistling of a kettle can be heard, as well as the low thud of... what could presumably be a stack of reports tumbling over on a level above. His face held a pained look, as it seemed he made mental note of yet another problem to fix. Yet, his expression was still as cheery as ever.

"...It may not look like much, but we host the largest national catalogue of true paranormal occurrences, at least in regards to those concerning the East Coast. Though, the technical term would be 'Misalignment Phenomena.' Such as ourselves."

...
 
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"Corki" - Corinna-Kiana - The Surfer/Skater Chick





Six-1.jpg
The hint of a smile was more than enoughof a response.

Corki had beamed right back at the tall woman, having breached her stony outer layer. She sighed then lowered her eyes. Thoughts drifted back into memory as she began to spin a wheel of her skateboard whilst 'Parasol' tended to her wards in the hanging garden. She was like a doting elementary school teacher going about taking attendance yet at the same time ensuring that each was regarded and cared for by responding with exactly what they needed.

And as if on cue, Parasol had responded to the surfer chick's earlier comment a with simple yet scientific answer regarding the exchange of gasses between humans and plants. After such a correction, Corki half expected the woman to pat her on the head then send her on her way to play with the other kids. A re-adjustment of the white flower tucked behind an ear. A small laugh. A shrug. Eyes lifted.


"These are also from Canada... Red Columbines. Perhaps you have a few in your own garden?" beginning to drip water from her umbrella to her fingertips, "I've never been far from here. This place has been my home for a long time..."

. "Yeah... about that. Like I said, I don't know much about plants and gardens sooooo maybe I do...? But one thing I do know is that I have a lone Japanese maple that I helped grow with alla' my friends and like... like its stooooopid, but me, my friends and some family gather once every spring and have our little "Letting Go" ceremony hahahahah... But yeah. I mess with the vibes. I like your home! This dope af amirite, Juju Juju Breezee-girl...?"

Corki laughed and pointed two fingers at the skinny girl. But then in this lighting, she finally noticed the bags under Brie's eyes. A frown over took the mixed girl's spry features, eyes dulled as concern flooded the blue therein, "Girl, you good? Ey. Yo, maybe you oughta' sit down and have some water. You still have that orange my fans gave us? Yeah? 'Kay, so like sit down, drink water and eat that--"

Reaching out with her flowered hand, she gave a firm, crisp knock and then stared at the close details of the door and frame, waiting for anything to happen with the door that held no handle on the building that appeared to have only one way in and out.

The sound of the knock on that handleless door made her jump. A gasp took her breath away.

"We committed now..." Eyes locked on the space where the door met the frame, Corki swallowed noisily, nodded curtly then quietly she slunk up beside Brie. With trucks side up, both hands held her skateboard as if she were some kind of warrior readying for a showdown.

She immediately began to move past Corki. But stopped somewhere in the middle. "But perhaps, whenever we have some leisure, I will be able to show you around. Maybe you can teach me... hm, how do they say it... your Canadian green-thumbs?"

Her eyes traced from the sleeve of her overcoat, to her gloved hands, to her thumbs then to the double-handed death grip on her four-wheeled purple and black weapon of death. A small scoffing laugh she let out. A shrug and with eyes lowered she conceded a nod that acknowledged both Parasol's quip and her own silly defensive reaction. Yet still Corki was still tense and anxious, so she just kept her mouth shut, watching, waiting for that barrier to finally swing open.

And it did.

A whole bunch of voices, a whole bunch of bickering. A whole bunch of people in golden collars, weird symbols and one with a golden bracelet. A whole bunch more questions to be raised... and even more growing concerns than questions really. Hello and welcome to the BPA!


---

In what amounted to more of a brushed off apology than an intro, the members of the Big Pretentious A-holes emerged, addressed them then peaced out without so much as a 'welcome aboard' or 'good luck.' No, instead it was more of a 'if we ever have to meet again...' veiled threat. That and like how Brie got Corki'd, they all just got Marigold'd.

The catty once-over, sizing them up had Corki's hackles leap up from the back of her neck. Eyebrows lowered, she reached out her hand and overlaid it over Brie's arm in a halting motion as if Brie would raise her fists, and start throwing hands with Judgy McStinkface here. Yes, she had cool yellow eyes and was all slinky and pretty. She was even fancied-assed with piercings and inked up in methods, patterns and artwork that reeked of ritual and importance. But the depricating comments to follow such a look, ignited silver fire in the blue of Corki's eyes.

A gloved hand flicked open her overcoat. In the same motion, Corki had shifted so that she thrust forth the sight of her 'emo-stripper Barbie' drip in widescreen and easily zoomed in view. Her friend, CC had told her to dress ike a normie, but no, Corki being Corki, she dressed so that onlookers could get a clue; Corinna-Kiana was telling you IDGAF about what you think of me. Zero given, none taken.

She too had ink and piercings of importance. Only her friend, Powder, was allowed to pierce her and only after the Witch performed her Dances. The artists that inked her were ones who could also eschew negativity and provide her a voice, help her use her body as a canvas to tell her tale and make permanent symbols of thanks and values. And the one handmade tattoo bordering the side of her face from temple to chin? Corki tucked her purple and black hair behind an ear, fully displaying her 'Dripping Fire' like a standard flying high above a field teeming with soldiers at the ready.


"Dress them up in all the fancy clothes you want. And flowery names. But you can't hide from the truth."
She sticks out her pierced tongue, sticking out a middle finger at the waving man. And just as she passes by 'Umbrella', her expression turns to that of a sneer.

Oh yeah, Corki had staved off her knee-jerk reactions and bit back her tongue, hard, but that little exchange...? She no longer felt intimidated and popped out of her lane and possibly into oncoming traffic. Flowers protected them all so that they could get here. That and Parasol so did not deserve that bitch move.

"I don't think I have green thumbs... but I gots this," an upward chin nod she cast at Parasol, then her eyes traced the pinkie, middle finger and thumbs out gesture of her own hands; the Magia salute. Wiggle your hand and it meant more like 'hang loose.' Palms facing forward meant more like 'hell yeah.' Back of hand facing forward channelled all that pent up energy to the tip that middle finger.

in the direction of where the BPA headed out did Corki salute up high with both hands,
"you should try it too. I heard it helps others 'absorb negative biproducts and turns it into increased oxygen for their deprived brains'."

---

"My! What a bunch of... interesting individuals! Seeing as all we could work off were profile reports, I didn't know exactly what to expect. But even I'm surprised! Haha... Ahem. Looks like we have a full house today. Ms. Seoyoon, may you prepare a kettle of warm tea for our guests? The big one. Oh, a nice citrus blend, please."

Upon finally focussing in on Jessie, Corki lost all the piss and vinegar in her system. She resisted the urge to spark up another cig and instead, she draped her overcoat over her very, very revealing outfit once more. A quick glance towards Brie illicited another of her smile, wink and nod routines, silently conveying she was all good now. A fond press of her shoulder into the other young woman's shoulder further attempted to show she was back to her old self.

She watched as the now named Ms. Seoyoon took leave. A smile and gracious nod she donned the tall woman before filing through the door upon Jessies' request. This time however, she kept lock and step right behind Brie. When in the open of the receiving room, she stood right beside the other black haired young woman. seasonedcat seasonedcat She had realized that the dude with the peeled cuticles was not a threat-- no gun was pulled from his bag-- but he was however being all Creepy MeTouchy with Brie's coat all the way through the dark alley ways. Like yes, it was scary in there, but still, playing hovering hands over a girls back without even saying a word to them smacked of pervie stalker.


Brielle held her daffodil over her heart, knuckles white from how tightly she gripped it.

She pulled the white flower from behind her ear at tapped it upon Brie's flower as if making a toast. And if Brie let her, Corki would loop her own arm around Brie's. Regardless, she would remain close and with her eyes and brows, she would point towards MeTouchy over there. She would then contort her face without exaggerating to show that, on the down low, she thought he was a creep. Eyes open wide again, a sublte head shake warned Brie not to look. Instead she pointed with her brows and eyes towards the strange skull upon the table and urged her to come along. If Brie understood the wordless 'Chicks-at-a-club' communications, Corki knew, she so knew they would be friends.

"Soooo weird up in here. But like... That's why I'm here..." Corki spoke low and close to Brie's ear. Her eyes fluttered close, chin lowered to chest. A sigh. "Like it's all so crazy and weird but it's true. I'm here cuz I see faces in fires... Girl, hear me out, 'kay?"

Eyes snapped open and stared levelly into Brie's eyes. "Brie. I zone out sometimes when I stare into fires. Then I see some kind of fiery, floaty vision of some randos face. Like sometimes I see them later on in real life. And you know that deja vu feeling. It's that but... it's more. There's... there's like a click. Not not one I hear. But I know. I feel. It's like something fits now. But I don't know what, who or why. I've never wanted to ask. Too scared I guess?

"'Kay, soooo my friend, Powder, she tries to help but... like it's complicated. So like that's why I'm here now. It's why I followed through with meeting up here. I wanna know the answers to the what's, who's, and why's. Like cuz then there are those times...
those times, Brie..."


Corki let the words drift off, draining away like the colour of her eyes. Suddenly her brows popped up and she came back from wherever her mind wandered off to, "Sooooo like what about you? What makes you a... a 'Misprint?' Like you don't have to share if you don't feel comfy, 'kay? But just know I gots you, Breezee."

---

You can thank our lovely Seoyoon. Forgive her demeanor, she is in fact an angel sent from above.

Corki fiddled with the flower tucked behind her ear, bit down on her lower lip but just could not hold back her impulsiveness and least of all her tongue. She pointed at Brie beside herself, "And you'll have to forgive Breezee, she says when Ms. Seoyoon smiles she is soooooo hot. She does in fact have a thing for angels. Makes her hormones pop up like an umbrella... hahahahah! Ahem... yeah. Sorry. You were saying...?"

"...It may not look like much, but we host the largest national catalogue of true paranormal occurrences, at least in regards to those concerning the East Coast. Though, the technical term would be 'Misalignment Phenomena.' Such as ourselves."

"No, you good. This is all suuuuper exciting! Like personally I identify as a weirdo 'Misprint' but 'Misalignment Phenomena?' Hell yeah. Like that make us sound so much more legit and on a FBI watchlist hahahahah...! But 'kay no, like for real, for real though? This is all so suuuuuuuper impressive. Like you have quite the interesting collection of... interesting 'things', no cap. Like and with a stack of papers that high, looks like you need al the help you can get. Sooooo like let's get on the level then... ummmm 'Chief' is it? Like I think that's what they called you? Right.

"Soooo like... Hi!! Chief Wallflowers, I'm Corinna-Kiana. I'm originally from Santa Monica, Cali but like now I live just outside of Tofino, BC, Canada. I used to skate and surf professionally, like you might have heard of 'Magia'? Like yeah, hi! That's me, Corki. But I been... cancelled into retirement hahahahah...! Right. 'Kay, so like I do run a clothing line called
ChroniCal now which is a really dope 'urban couture' brand. Our biggest seller, women's hoodies are on sale for spring season! Oh! And heads up, all our winter stock is 25% off for all of next week as a flash sale too! 'Kay, but like questions then:


"Like are we gunna' become BPA officers, enforcers or like agents kinda' deal? And like for how long cuuuuuuz... I do have like a few hundred gajillion business commitments that need to be dealt with too.

"Are you good? Cuz like I heard those other gold sealed BPAs kinda threaten you-- like they kinda' threatened us too-- but like... just what kinda' things we gotsta do to get out of trouble?

"Oh! And like can we use our phones now, cuz like last time I gots this: 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee' sound all up in my head when I tried to make a call. And like do you get 5G service all the way in here?"





 
Corki fiddled with the flower tucked behind her ear, bit down on her lower lip but just could not hold back her impulsiveness and least of all her tongue. She pointed at Brie beside herself, "And you'll have to forgive Breezee, she says when Ms. Seoyoon smiles she is soooooo hot. She does in fact have a thing for angels. Makes her hormones pop up like an umbrella... hahahahah! Ahem... yeah. Sorry. You were saying...?"

"Oh, my..." his cheeks appeared to flush a bit.
Mr. Wallflower then broke out into a laugh, patting Brie on the back. "You're all adults. It's none of my business."

...

As the curtly man waited for them to find their way around the table, one of them appeared to be unable to contain themselves. Corki hadn't even begun to find a place to sit before she exploded the room with words. His eyebrows raised, as though he was witnessing something truly fascinating unfold before his eyes.

He makes a face somewhere in the torrent of words. "Chief Wallflower, haha..."
"Yes, technically, my position is 'Chief' of the Boston Paranormal Repository... But I much prefer the Wallflower Agency..."

He was barely able to squeeze that response out before it got swallowed in another wave of words and questions.
The man coughed somewhere during the whole wildfire speech, shifting now to find purchase in his seat. Candidly speaking, the man seemed taken aback by a few elements of the potential staff candidates. His brow furrowed as if trying to process everything that was just said, and still being said. He mouth seemed to dry just working out a reply. Luckily, by the time he needed to speak, Seoyoon had placed a cup of tea before him.

"Ah. Thank you, dear."

The two seemed to have a silent exchange, Wallflower making a quizzical expression as though he was searching for some sort of explanation. Maybe it looked like he was asking for help. But the man was rebutted with a shrug and a cold stare. The woman then placed the square tray at the center of the table, before joining the chair directly to Wallflower's right. Upon it were a set of warm-colored porcelain cups and saucers, along with a steaming kettle, puffing like the top of an old chimney. The tea had already been poured, filling the air with the brisk scent of dried fruits. The deep orange of citrus contained within each cup shimmering in the lamp glow. He gestured for anyone willing to help themselves with a gentle sweep of his palm.

Considering some might not trust him yet, the man preemptively smiled and took a long sip of his own cup.

"Aha, I'm not sure if ad reads are part of introductions... Well, anywhere. But I do like your enthusiasm!" he says, grinning politely. "That said, you don't need to tell me your name. I'm not sure if you've been informed..." he takes another glance at Seoyoon.
"But we know all about you.... All of you, in fact. Though, some more than others. I must say, just knowing a birth name goes a long way in this day and age. What with social media, and self-published timelines, and the like. But some of you leave much less of a digital footprint. We had to keep personal tabs in that case."

"Like are we gunna' become BPA officers, enforcers or like agents kinda' deal? And like for how long cuuuuuuz... I do have like a few hundred gajillion business commitments that need to be dealt with too.
"Are you good? Cuz like I heard those other gold sealed BPAs kinda threaten you-- like they kinda' threatened us too-- but like... just what kinda' things we gotsta do to get out of trouble?

His smile wavers a bit at the mention of the BPA.
"So you heard all that... I assume the rest of you did, as well? Hm. I was hoping for a fun, exciting mood, on your first day. But I guess, it can't be avoided." he looks down at the cup before him, swirling the liquid a few times before speaking again.

"We are not part of the BPA. Though, you hit the nail on the head. The Bureau of Paranormal Arrest is a federal institute that enforces paranormal law. Much like the rest of the supernatural societies here in Boston, we enjoy independence so long as we adhere to the Norwich Armistice. 'Rules of Conduct', you might say. We, as one of the conditions to remain sovereign, are to keep the supernatural out of the public eye. But part of the game, is that we must only use discreet methods. Brute force is more their style. If possible, we would like to avoid their involvement... " that last statement cause his voice to trail off. "So, no officer badges today. Though, if it were up to them, we would all be in ball-and-chain. The restraints, those curling, wreath-like ornaments you might have noticed on their necks. They use those to keep their 'Thralls' in line."
The circular shades turn directly at Corki, then scanning the other faces there. "As for commitments, there are many positions that need to be filled out currently... But before we get to business talk, does anyone have any other questions?"

He then gives her a look, smiling softly, "Right. You mentioned something about phones..."
"The effects of the feedback response should have worn off by now... But it may differ by person. Perhaps you should try again later on tonight?'
Wallflower then raises a thin finger to a sliver between a mountain of paperwork. There, beside a small table with a thick yellow phonebook, fastened on the eastern facing wall is an antique telephone. Complete with rotary dial input and inconvenient swirly cables.

"The only phones that work here are those types. Sorry." he leans back and takes another sip of his tea.

...
 
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NAME:
GENA
LOCATION:
Green door>Tea time
WITH:
The group of misfits.
NOTE:


The seam between the green wooden doorway and framing split open. Revealing what had previously been a contained conversation of sorts from within. Gena instinctually cut her breathing and closed her eyes to focus on the words being exchanged. Being the closest to the opened doorway was a bonus as well. In not so many words, she quickly deciphered she was a part of a new group being brought into the cult? There was clear subtext running for more profound subjects that went over Gena's head. If she had to muster a guess, Mr. Wallflower was the overseer of Boston and became so recently due to circumstance. The lack of confidence from the others within was evident, as was their apparent lack of respect for Mr. Wallflower given the corporate-style threats.

There was a pause before Jessie responds. "Give me a week. We will find a trail."
"A week? Brillant," Gena mocked under her breath, finally letting the burning sensation fade as she released a lung full of air. Then the door was opened wider abruptly with a hand belonging to a very large, very hairy man. Between the beard, the bushy black brows and the suit, Gena tried to translate the sight. He clearly had put a good deal of effort into that suit, yet the face was so overgrown.

His dramatic appearance was thrown to the side with the friendly-threatening introduction to the BPA. Gena found herself pivoting and stepping back from the door on the porch to make way for their departure. The last of the group was an inked-up female with yellow eyes, spitting out her venom before departing with the group. It reminded her of the trash talk that tended to happen between nursing staff and residents. A smirk appeared as Gena quietly mused, 'What a shocker, none of them are going to lift a leg and mark the pots on their way out? Would not want us feral animals trying to take over home turf.' Watching as they all faded out of sight before hearing a clap and welcome from Mr. Wallflower. The request for tea finally put a name to Umbrella, Ms. Seoyoon. With Ms. Seoyoon and Corki already in, Gena peeled herself off the wall and followed.

Moving inside, she quickly found herself doing a double take, studying the door from inside the entryway. The space did not feel like it fit. It was not just the entryway that felt off. The best way she could wrap her mind around it was a hoarder meets Dr. Who. The inside felt far too big to fit from the outside and everything was on top of itself nonetheless. Piles of paperwork, news articles, and files made her eye twitch. Leaning over and pushing all her weight to one foot, she looked up the spiral staircase and gave an audible groan.

Corki fiddled with the flower tucked behind her ear, bit down on her lower lip but just could not hold back her impulsiveness and least of all her tongue. She pointed at Brie beside herself, "And you'll have to forgive Breezee, she says when Ms. Seoyoon smiles she is soooooo hot. She does in fact have a thing for angels. Makes her hormones pop up like an umbrella... hahahahah! Ahem... yeah. Sorry. You were saying...?"

"But... how do you know what has been reviewed and has not? Is there not a filing system? Database? Is it at least organized by most important to most minor?" she asked to no one in particular, if not directly to the void of chaos itself. Though it was very likely drowned out by Corki's once again irreverent jesting.

Gena's shoulders were near her ears as she reluctantly moved into the meeting area. Cautiously stepping into the far side of the table but not yet sitting, CAtching a leaning pile that had been disturbed by her presence and worked to nonchalantly right the pile now threatening to fall over. Wrestling the pages, she found herself flipping through the top pages as the pile steadied. It did help that Corki spewed off again, giving time for Gena to peak through the documents in hand.

Mr. Wallflower took the verbal rap in pace and provided more details that Gena found of interest. Coming to the table, Gena made a point to sit in a chair nearly across from Mr. Wallflower, leaving the backpack she had brought with her on the floor at her feet. Moments passed as she began to fix a cup of tea. Gena found a lump growing in her throat with the opportunity for questions open.

"Paranormal Occurrences? Misalignment Phenomena. You say we have it, or are it, okay. How does this make us in any way skilled in the manner of dealing with such things? Why is this in the hands of private groups such as yourself? Respectfully, the record-keeping is awful. And quite honestly, the rest of this group seems, frankly a bit unhinged, no offense." Gena's fingers were curled around the teacup, soaking in the warmth as the words tumbled from her lips. She took a slow sip of the citrus tea staring at Mr. Wallflower waiting for a response to slightly ranting questions.
 

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