Country of Clashing Ideals

Kino?

Hmm?

It's been quiet here, very uneventful.

It's not strange for people to have quiet, simple lives.

No, I suppose not. But normally, we would have stopped to talk to somebody. Is something worrying you?

No, there's nothing. I'm observing, that's all. It's a larger city than we've ever been to before. I want to understand how that changes the way the people here live. There must be many different ways of living in a place so large.

Ah. Okay. Well, then I'll just keep going at this pace.

That's fine.

To any outside observer, the banal exchange would have seemed insane. From afar, it certainly must have looked as though the green-haired young woman in the brown longcoat, goggles covering her eyes as she rode her motorcycle through the wider streets that could be found in Olympa's Undercity, was holding a one-sided conversation with herself. Of course, anyone who was close enough to overhear the conversation, rather than only see the woman's - Kino's - mouth moving, would have heard her conversational partner just fine. She was speaking to her motorcycle, to her traveling companion, Hermes. Hermes called himself a Motorrad, so Kino did as well, but neither of them cared much about what precisely he was or how he was able to speak. Hermes was Hermes, and that knowledge had always been good enough for the duo.

With Hermes' question settled, the duo continued to ride through the Undercity's streets in relative silence. Kino surveyed the area as they rode, not so much interested in the city itself as in it's people. There had been all kinds. They had passed through some market earlier, a friendly, bustling - by the standards of the area - place with all kinds of interesting sights. The fruit stall, that had really caught her eye. It had business, sure, but… there was something peculiar about it. A handful of folks had stopped and inspected it from a distance. There was something more going on in their heads than contemplation of their needs or an assessment of the quality of the fruit on display. No, there was a wariness in their body language. Most of them seemed to come to the conclusion that whatever gave them pause was nothing to be concerned about, given that they'd suddenly shake off the hesitation and approach the stand as if they had never had a second thought about it. A few went the other direction, backing away and giving the stall a wide berth as they passed it by. It was hard to say for certain, but she had a feeling something had happened at the stall, something not so unknown to the Undercity that it changed the habits of most of its residents but which had been unnerving enough to make people pause.

Despite her suspicions, she hadn't requested Hermes stop at the stall. No, the two of them simply continued down the road, Kino inspecting every person she saw skulking in the shadows of the buildings and the alleyways. She had heard tales of the Undercity being some crime-ridden hellscape, but, given her experiences traveling the world, she had never placed much faith in those rumors. No, you could never get much of an idea of a place from people who weren't living there themselves.

Not all, she could tell, who lurked in the shadows were criminal. Their body language - she could tell so much about these people from their body language alone. The hobbling of a laboring woman, returning home with an aching back after a night shift of infrastructure maintenance, had its subtle differences from the laboured steps of an elderly man determined to have a pleasant stroll despite the toll a rough and long life had taken on his body. The confident swagger of men walking right through the center of the streets and sidewalks - a clear indication of who belonged to a gang or some kind of organized crime family and felt they could act with impunity because of the numbers behind them - didn't make them any less apparent than the opportunistic urchins who sidled along the walls of buildings. The bouncing gait of a young girl heading for home with treats in her hand contrasted with the defensive hunching of the two boys accompanying her, each clearly eyeing the other with suspicion. She was content with what she had and had no worries about it. Each boy was less focused on what he had and more on the possibility that the other might try and swipe it. What did that say about these three children? Had they led different lives - ones of scarcity and abundance, ones of stability and chaos - despite being neighbors?

Kino's observations of the Undercity's residents consumed all of her attention, leaving Hermes to keep an eye on what was ahead for the both of them. With Kino lost in thought, it fell upon him to point out the interesting sight they were approaching.

Kino.

Yes?

At Hermes' prodding, Kino snapped back to focusing on the road. They were approaching a scrapyard, quite a sizable one. There didn't seem to be anyone there at the moment, or, at least, they were hidden from view. If there was no one around, the place didn't concern them. It'd be easier to go around it, rather than try to ride through it, over top of all of the metal and junk strewn around. Just as Kino opened her mouth to tell Hermes that they'd go around, the Motorrad chimed in.

Do you see that washing machine?

You'd like to go see it?

Kino's normally-even voice actually rose in surprise as she responded. It was a rare event indeed, when Hermes expressed interest in anything. He had always had a sense of mechanical devices, an understanding of how they worked, that had drawn his attention to them, but this seemed strange, for him to want to see something broken down and thrown out. Still, she didn't even wait for his response before she shifted her weight to help him turn towards the machine. It was certainly odd, she'd give it that. She hadn't noticed until it was pointed out to her, but it was relatively intact. Even stranger, it sat upright, at the very edge of the scrapyard, all on its own. It looked as though somebody had intentionally dragged it out of the scrap heap and set it to the side. But for what purpose?

Kino dismounted as she and her companion approached, allowing Hermes to continue puttering along to go around the back of the machine, which had had its covering removed - or perhaps torn off. The front had been facing them, the door on the front also having been ripped out of the machine at some point, so, while Hermes traveled around one side, Kino inspected the side opposite.

A target?

What was that?


Kino didn't respond to Hermes' request for clarification, only motioning the Motorrad to come around and join her. Indeed, there was a hastily drawn target pattern, not unlike the kind one might employ in recreational archery. The bright reds and whites of the target ensured it could be seen from quite a distance, but, it didn't appear to have any marks indicating it had been shot at in any way. There were no holes or scratches, and nothing had even caused the paint to flake or left a nick in it. No one had been practicing with it, so what could it have been for…?

The answer came to Kino's mind all too suddenly, but, for Hermes, everything seemed to go off the rails in an instant, as Kino threw off her longcoat - allowing it to fall on her companion, draped over his seat, and pulled a gun from a holster on her waist. She pointed it at a mountain of scrap, one they had been a fair distance away, to their backs. A moment of tense silence followed. After just a few seconds, the Motorrad, not so much worried as unable to contain his curiosity, finally broke the silence with a question..

Kino, what's the mat-

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

...a question that would go, unfinished, that is, as Hermes found himself interrupted by three beats of an echoing, drawn-out applause.

Hey hey! Wow, that's good! Spectacular! Much better than I expected! Oooh, it's a woodsman, too! What's that one? The match target model? Stay there! I want a closer look!

Yes, sitting at the top of the scrap heap, peering through the sight of a GM6 Lynx anti-material rifle, was none other than Pitohui. She had been watching the pair with rapt attention, happy to let them entertain her. She had seen them as soon as they entered the scrapyard, and had decided to lay low, to see what they were up to and see if they could offer her any excitement. It had been her who had set up the target, early in the morning, before most had even climbed out of bed. She had thought that the scrapyard would be a prime place for target practice with a high-powered gun that she couldn't exactly take to just any shooting range. Much to her consternation, it was only after all the effort of moving the machine and painting the target that she realized she'd have to abandon the whole idea. As sure as she was of herself, she didn't want to be the one to take the risk of some kind of accident out here, in a place where nobody was ostensibly supposed to be shooting guns of any kind.

Still, it hadn't been a complete waste of time. It had, after all, kept her occupied for a few hours, and staying occupied was a chief concern of hers. She had worked hard to avoid any extended periods of idle time in isolation. Dawn and Joy had helped with that, injecting some excitement in her life with the occasional mission. Even more so than those two, Kanade and the ZFPD had provided her with welcome distractions. Since their night out where her attempt to prank Kanade with searingly-spicy curry had backfired, Pitohui - both as herself and as Elsa - had been making more efforts to go out with the other idol. They had been simple outings, going out with Kanade as she shopped, sharing meals here and there, hanging out casually in general when they could. As for the ZFPD, Pitohui made excuses to visit them as often as possible without seeming desperate, even volunteering her time and offering to take on more menial and routine duties in a transparent attempt to disguise the fact that she was mostly spending time there to visit with Frost, Clawhauser, and the others. When there was no one else available, she focused, as much as she could without mentally draining herself, on her work, or on keeping her collection of weapons in prime condition and her skills with them sharp. When even that didn't work, she tried to force herself to explore more of Olympia, wandering aimlessly to see what she could busy herself with. Given that she had already found an apartment to lease and had moved into it from her hotel room months ago, aimless wandering was all that was left on her agenda for the day after she left the scrapyard. But now that there were some new faces around…

It took a moment, but Pitohui, who opted to carry her gun in her hands rather than to throw it over her shoulder with a strap, made her way down to speak to with the duo directly. Kino kept a wary gaze trained on the black-clad woman. Kino lowered her gun while Pitohui approached, gladly taking the woman's desire to see the weapon up close as an excuse to keep her weapon out of its holster. She scrutinized Pitohui's body language. The woman's movements were lithe, and the way she carried herself conveyed a carefree and confident attitude. It didn't seem as though she meant them any harm, but it was difficult to read her intentions, especially with the mischievous glint in her eyes and her wide grin. She read like the type who could turn on a dime, who could do anything at a moment's notice as her whims changed.

Pitohui had no similar reservations about Kino, despite the traveler's willingness to so quickly point a weapon at her, and instead "oohed" and "ahhed" as she admired the weapon in Kino's hand. She seemed, as best Kino could tell, enraptured by the gun. Pitohui babbled excitedly, possessing the same energy as a child gushing about a new toy they saw on the television.

Wow! It really is the Colt Woodsman! I have to pat myself on the back for that one. I haven't even seen this one in person before. Pistols aren't the best, but this is a diamond in the rough. And in pristine condition! You've really taken great care of it! How long have you had it?

Kino couldn't help but be taken aback by the woman's enthusiasm. She had an intimidating presence as it was, and her genuine excitement and delight only amplified her discomforting aura.

Uh, over seven years now, I'd guess. It was a gift while I was traveling.

Seven years with one gun! I'm impressed. Then you really must be skilled with it. Hell, you could probably do better with it than I could right now. I'd have to get used to it to match up to seven years of experience. That's not the only gun you own, is it?

It's not. She has one more she takes everywhere.

Kino shot a glare at her companion, not for forcing his way into the conversation, but for answering the question honestly. She still wasn't sure if she could fully trust this woman. She had no desire to show the woman her other weapon and throw away any element of surprise she had. Hermes, though, was just as oblivious when it came to people as Kino was keenly aware of how people behaved and presented themselves. In other words, Hermes wouldn't have understood his faux pas even if Kino explained it in detail. With no other option, she produced another gun from another holster.

As loudly as Pitohui howled with delight, someone overhearing her would have been forgiven for assuming her and Kino were having a much more intimate encounter in the scrapyard.

Ahhhaaaa! It's an 1851 Colt Navy Revolver! And it's in even better condition! Not enough people have the good taste to appreciate a revolver anymore! Oh, you're just a dream come true! Do you really not have any more?

Kino had moved beyond the point of discomfort. More than anything, she just wanted the conversation to end. She had met all kinds of people in her travels, and she had made it a principle to never look down upon other people for their personalities or the way they lived their lives. That didn't mean that she liked being around just anyone, though. She'd close this conversation cordially, but quickly.


No, that's it. The two are enough.

Oh boooo! I thought you were going to be a walking armory of rare guns. Well, can't be helped. So, whatd'ya say? Ready to follow me to a range? I can't wait to see what you can do with these two.

Even as Pitohui spun around to rush off to the nearest proper shooting range, Kino stood firm. She stayed rooted to her spot and shook her head.

No thank you. I'm not going to be spending much time here, so I want to spend it seeing what the city's like. Besides, I don't want to fire these if I don't have to. There's no point in having a gun besides self-defense and hunting.


Whaaaaa-?

From her tone, one might have deduced that Pitohui had just received life-changing news, the kind that leaves people devastated and unable to process the enormity of the situation they're in. It was more than a little dramatic, to say the least, and enough to make even the normally-stoic Kino's cheeks tinge pink. She hadn't said anything that ground-breaking, had she? Pitohui whipped back around, pointing an accusatory finger at the traveler.

I refuse to believe it! Someone who has taken such good care of these precious little ones, and she says she doesn't even like guns! What an awful thing to say around them!

You shouldn't be shocked. There's no reason for us to want to go with you. It was you who trapped us in a bush, remember.

Now both women stared at Hermes, both trying to decipher what exactly the Motorrad had said. Silently, Kino welcomed the distraction. Were she lucky, it would send the gun-lover down some other train of thought and she'd get caught up enough on that that she'd leave them alone.

...you mean… I ambushed you?

Yes, that's it!

Riiiight…

Kino, it turned out, was not all that lucky, given that Pitohui immediately returned to pointing at her and shouting, disbelief evident in her voice.

I just can't accept it! Tell me. Right now! What are their names? Someone who takes such good care of them has to have named them.

Kino wanted to retort with a comment on the absurdity of Pitohui's logic, to refute her assertion that she could expect someone to name a gun simply because they put in the effort to properly maintain their weapon. Unfortunately for Kino, she found herself taking a backseat in the conversation to the ever-honest-and-straightforward Hermes, leaving the traveler herself to flush red and finally break eye contact with the gun maniac.

Their names are easy. The first one's the Woodsman. The second one's the Cannon.

Pitohui immediately bursted into such an intense laughter that she had to stop and gasp for air halfway through it.

AHA! I KNEW IT! Ahahaha, you thought you could get one over on me! What a laugh! Ahahaha! Wew, that was great, really. You almost had me at first, but, clearly you think there's "no point". Right, okay. I'll play along, especially if it means you might sell 'em to me later. Besides that whopper, what's your other excuse for not wanting to go with me?

I… I told you. I won't be staying long. I stay in every land I visit for three days and two nights. That's as long as it takes to learn what the place is like.

Pitohui cocked an eyebrow. Now she was genuinely confused. This girl thought she could get a feel of a place as big as Olympia in that short a time?

Sounds pretty stupid, if you ask me. I've been here for a year now, and I still don't know everything about this place. I'd say you need more time than that.


Do you not know everything because there's too much to learn in that time, or is it because you haven't stopped to observe it?

Hey! I'm more observant than you give me credit for! I noticed you before you noticed me, didn't I? But that's not important. Look, hear me out. The city's divided into four main sections, right? Outer, Inner, Middle, and Under? Follow?

I'm aware of the division. I'm here to see how life differs in each of the sectors, and see how they all work together. That's why I chose to come to Olympia. I came to observe the people here and to hear their stories.

Pitohui smirked as she nodded. This was perfect. She wanted this girl to stick around long enough to see what she was capable of with those guns, and, if she could, convince her to part with them.

Right, perfect. You've gotta know that they're all basically different places. Undercity's where all the fun is. Outer's got some small-fry joints, the Middle City has the people who think they're ritzy, and the Inner's for the idiots who are too good for the air outside their precious little dome and pour gold on their salad. Got it? So, obviously, you have to treat each place like they're their own city. So that's… twelve days. Twelve days, eight nights, split it up between the four sectors. Make sense?

Kino bristled at the thought of admitting that this woman in particular was right, but, then, she really had seen some unusual ways of looking at the world in her time, and, as she knew all too well, sometimes even the strangest points of view brought people joy and peace. Her philosophy was to never dismiss a lifestyle or perspective offhand, and the gun maniac did make a compelling argument…

Okay. You make a good case. I'll visit each as if it were its own city. That still means my time in the Undercity is running out. I need to move on.

Great! Just wait one more sec before you run off, 'kay?

This was it, time for Pitohui to bait her trap. With only twelve days, she couldn't guarantee that this traveler would end up in a situation where she'd feel the need to pull out her guns… unless... unless she were to get her involved with a group that seemed to attract nothing but trouble, one that might even be able to convince the traveler to stick around in town for an extended period.

You said you wanted to observe people, right? Then you have to go to this one bar when you visit the Outer City. It's called Valhalla. Run by a Dana Zane. You'll love it. All kinds of freaks - the good kind, I mean. I'll probably stop in sometime, so don't be a stranger when you come by, okay? If I'm not around, tell them that Pitohhhhuuu-

She hesitated. Did she really want this girl throwing her name around? If someone recounted her less-than-flattering history in the city or otherwise warned the traveler to beware her, it could cause the girl to put her guard up, which would make her job all that much harder… No, she needed the traveler to go in with a better name than her's behind her. She needed someone who was trusted, well-known. It had to be someone who could live with the white lie, too, a harmless little falsehood she could come in and clear up later with no harm and no foul. She needed that baker. The baker, the one with the boxer girl, she'd be the perfect choice... but what was her name? Her first name was easy, but what was her last name...?

Huuu-on… Huonoka, Huonoka… People struggle with it, you don't really pronounce the "u," so it's Honoka. Honoka Kos… Kosko? Kosoko? Kosaka? Kosoka?

Punching her helmet in frustration - hard enough that she could still feel the force on her skull even through the protective headgear - Pitohui eventually lets out a cry of defeat, stomping on the ground for emphasis like a toddler demanding attention before she finally composes herself and addresses the traveler directly once more.

Gah! God, what was it? What the hell was it? You know what? It's fine. I'll look it up later. Just forget it. They won't ask you anything. Just stop in sometime, okay?

                                                                                 XXX

The end of the conversation had been uneventful. Pitohui had given Kino the bar's address, then she sent the duo off with a hearty wave and a cheerful goodbye as Kino mounted Hermes and the duo sped off to continue their exploration of the Undercity. They continued in their travels as they had before, mostly in silence, with Hermes watching the road and Kino watching all the people they passed by. Down one particularly barren road, Hermes offered one more uncharacteristic interjection.

Kino.

Yes?

That woman. Did she remind you of-

-of Master?

Yes, that's it. She reminded me of her, but you knew her better than I did.

They look similar, and she was almost as confident as Master always used to be. I don't know how good she is with guns, either, but I doubt she could be as good as Master was.

Huh. Is that why you didn't want to shoot with her?

No. That was the truth. I didn't want to waste time shooting anything. It doesn't do any good to use a weapon unless you have to.

So you don't think you should prepare for a piece of the war?

...are you asking if I believe the saying "prepare for war if you want peace" is wrong?

Yes, that's it!

No. I never said that. There's many different ways to live in this world. I don't know if there's any one right way. But I don't like to hurt people if I don't have to.

Oh. Okay. I get it, then. It's your personal idea about living.

With Hermes seemingly content with the answer, the pair continued their ride through the Undercity in silence.

In Good Paws

Amber Argyris had, up to this point, been having a spectacular evening.

After all, Amber had finally, after months of nudging her, worn down her sister enough that Aurora agreed to give up her bangle for one evening. The youngest of the Argyris sisters had been too preoccupied with a migraine to protest the matter. So long as Amber had it back to her by morning and kept it in a pristine condition, those had been Aurora's stipulations. She had eagerly taken the family heirloom in hand and rushed it down to Ravio's store.

She had kept in touch with the masked salesman over the past few months, paying multiple visits to him as he settled into his new shop, a quaint little store at the end of a small strip mall. Ravio had appreciated her friendliness, her presence and support lifting his spirits as he struggled to build a customer base. They had spent weeks swapping tales and chatting. Amber, as talkative as ever, had spilled every detail about herself and her sisters, including some that Aurora almost would have certainly objected to her sharing, had she known. Ravio mostly kept his end of the discussions focused on his business and trade, but never learning the salesman's history or seeing his face had never bothered Amber; no, she was content to let him regale her with his knowledge of magical artifacts and weaponry.

That knowledge had made the evening's great discovery possible, after all. Aurora had recounted tales which attested to the heirloom's magical power, but she had always dismissed the veracity of those stories. Even with an expert on these kinds of items right in front of her, the youngest Argyris sister had shown no interest in having her treasured accessory appraised. Amber, though? She had seen an opportunity, and she simply wasn't the type to not reach out and grab an opportunity within her reach. To Amber's delight, Ravio had been able to, after lengthy inspection, confirm that the bangle contained a vast reserve of power. It was no weapon, however. No, instead, it served to enhance the inherent magical powers of the wearer, providing a vast reserve of energy that would strengthen its wielder's spells and powers. Unfortunately, not just any soul could make use of the vast reserve contained within. Without a significant investment of power, the artifact's user would be unable to liberate the vast power contained within; unless one's magical abilities were sufficiently powerful in the first place, the bangle would remain totally and completely unresponsive, nothing more than a normal piece of jewelry. She hadn't much understood what Ravio was getting at when he tried explain it all in terms of activation energy and chemical reactions, but the analogy made more sense once he had compared it to a dam holding back the waters of an inland sea only bursting and releasing the formidable power of the entire sea only after the energy contained in explosives was leveraged to weaken the dam. It had been disheartening, of course, to find out that neither her nor either of her sisters were likely ever to possess the power required to make use of the heirloom's special property, but Amber's disappointment had ebbed after Ravio brought out drinks. Knowing how much Amber enjoyed a good drink, he had gone out and bought her, as a sign of their friendship, some rum and the ingredients needed to make a few mixed drinks. Given that he didn't drink, he was more than happy to keep her glass filled for the duration of her visit, too.

She was riding high on the evening - well, that and the buzz of the alcohol - as she strolled down the streets of this little commercial district in the Outer City. Sure, it was late - just past midnight, actually. But she wasn't the only one out and about. There were still a few people milling about, and there had to be plenty more still partying in the bars and nightclubs. Why, she could probably go find herself a good time somewhere, meet some more people and make some ne-

You. You look like a classy woman searching for a good time.

Sorry, what was that?

Amber glanced in the direction of the voice which had called out to her, finding… someone - the individual had sounded almost like a man, but sure looked like a woman - peering out from the darkness of an alley, beckoning her with a single hand sticking out from the shadows. The individual's face stuck out of the shadows, too, but it was mostly concealed by the cloth wrapped around it.

I'm looking for someone interested in a good time. I have a place we can go back to for some privacy. I'll have to charge you to spend the night, but the prices are cheap.

Amber caught herself laughing as the realization washed over her. This woman - despite her remarkably deep voice, she was, Amber was sure, a woman - was a prostitute, one trying to skirt questions of legality by ostensibly charging only for a night's lodging. The second thought amused her far more than the first; she had been spending too much time with her younger sister, if she was starting to think about that kind of thing.

With a smile and a wave of acknowledgement, Amber made her way over to the woman in the alley, following her in even as she drew deeper and deeper into the shadows. She had been propositioned in far stranger ways before, both while out partying and on the streets as she returned home after late nights out, and, while she didn't always accept, saying yes to some of those propositions had led to some great nights. As well as the night had gone, she didn't see any reason not to at least hear this woman out. She had, after all, wanted to meet some new people tonight…

The duo stood in the center of the alley, barely able to see one another in the shadows. Amber briefly considered conjuring some sparks on her fingertips, so the electrical arcs and the faint glow of her eyes and accessories could provide some light, but she made no move to do so. She'd at least see what this woman was offering. Really, she'd rather have someone to spend the next few hours out on the town with more than a partner in bed. If she was lucky, maybe she could convince her to just spend the night out and about, having some fun together, but there was at least the chance she could get both out of her.

Soooo, what were you thinking? If your place is around here, we could hit up a club first! I can treat! I think it'd be fun to, like, get to know each other, don't you? Oh. I'm Amber, by the way.

Amber, eh? The look checks out. It was nice seeing your jewelry in the light. It had a nice shine to it.

Oh? You like it? Then check this out!

Now, Amber did let sparks dance on her fingertips, the harsh but dim white light generated by the crackling electricity suffused with a soft yellow-orange glow. She could see the woman in front of her a little more clearly now, see that she was almost entirely wrapped in cloth, only a few strands of blonde hair peeking out near her blue eyes. Those blue eyes were shining with excitement, in a more metaphorical way than Amber's own. Amber had no way of knowing that those eyes belonged to Fleur Boland, to the thief who went by the name Eve.

Your necklace, can I see it?


Sure, yeah! But it's gonna stop glowing as soon as I take it off.

Amber's words weren't quite accurate. The necklace didn't stop glowing until she had handed it off to the other woman, until the very moment she actually let go of it. The woman inspected it carefully, turning it over, poring over every fine detail on it by Amber's light. As for Amber herself, her mind was elsewhere. She swayed impatiently, thinking it neat that this woman had taken such an interest in her accessories but ready to head off with her to a more energetic scene as soon as possible, or, if she had no interest, to leave her behind.

The woman handed the necklace back, but, as she made clear with a gesture at the bangle on Amber's wrist, she wasn't done with her inspections.

It's a symbol of craftsmanship. Someone put in real effort to make it. But what I'm interested in is that. Silver doesn't exactly go with your look. Something you'd sell?

Mmm… No, sorry. It's not really mine. Well, it is, but we all share it, you know? I don't really care all that much about it, but I'm not supposed to give it away or sell it. I'm supposed to take care of it. Plus, I just found out something really cool about it, and I wanna tell my sisters.

I don't follow. Does it belong to you, or not?

Her voice had a hint of incredulousness, but her flat, unwavering tone made it difficult to gauge what she was thinking.

Well, it's complicated. It's like, it belongs to me, but it's not just me it belongs to. I'm allowed to take it out, but I couldn't give away without asking people.

The details don't matter, I guess. Shame you can't sell it. But you could let me see, at least? That's within your rights?
 

Hmm. I guess so. But I kinda wanna get going. Don't you wanna look at it in the light? We could find a bar and I could let you see it in there.
 

No. I don't think it's a good idea. You hear about the thieves lately? Been a string of people having things stolen from their home, having things stolen from them out on the streets. Doesn't seem like anyone's safe anywhere. We go where people could see us, someone could poach this. Besides, it looks prettier in your glow. Everything does.


Amber's face lit up, but not because of the compliment. Flattery wouldn't get anyone anywhere with her. She'd heard it all. No, she was excited for another reason…


Hey! I know a thief! I think. I dunno. I haven't talked to her a lot, but I've seen her around this one bar. It's a cool place. Maybe we could go ask her if she knows about anything? It's a little far from here, but we could go see if it's still open. They're getting ready for a big night, so I don't know. But we could check!

As she went on, Amber removed her bangle and went to hand it over almost unthinkingly. Was it the alcohol? Her generally trustful disposition? Was it the fact that the strange woman had already lowered her guard, when she had already inspected and returned the necklace? Whatever the reason may have been, the only thing that had registered in Amber's mind by the time she let out a gasp was the sensation of having the bangle snatched from her outstretched hand and the sensation of the mysterious woman's foot hitting her shin as she turned to flee.

Hey! Where are you going? Hold on!

Amber wasted no time, immediately letting loose a jolt of electricity in the direction of the fleeing thief. She made certain that the blast was weak, comparable to a taser. She wasn't looking to harm anyone. As a matter of fact, she still hoped there was some kind of misunderstanding…

The miniature bolt of lightning illuminated the whole of the alleyway, giving Amber a clear view of the woman absconding with her - with her family's - heirloom. In that brief moment, Amber's eyes fell upon the woman's hand - not the one with the bangle, but one which had remained one the woman's hip for the whole of their conversation, one which, she could clearly see now, held a small, shovel-shaped rod. Amber couldn't identify it, but anyone with a basic familiarity of magical weapons could have easily recognized it as a Sand Rod. As swiftly as Amber had thrown her powers around, the fleeing woman gave the magical implement a swing, conjuring up a whirling storm of silicates, pebbles, and grains of minerals. As for the lightning? It meant the blast of minerals head-on… and fizzled out as the electrical energy, channeled and conducted by the impurities and the trace metals in the more-literal-than-usual dirt devil, was directed into the earth - or wait passed as the earth on a flying city, at least.

Amber stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock at the sight of someone so expertly countering her powers, as she watched the last few pieces of stone and dirt settle and coat the ground of the alley. Anyone else in the situation might have smelled a rat, figuring that it was too much of a coincidence that the woman who had targeted her happened to have the perfect weapon to use against someone with electrical powers. As she sprinted down the alley to give chase, though? The thought never once crossed Amber's mind. No, only a single word rang through her mind, like a sound effect set to loop, as she emerged on another empty street - it was indeed empty, with no sign of the thief in either direction.

Shit.
                                                                             XXX

Some twenty minutes later, Ravio fell out of his bed - he was living in his shop, to cut down on his costs so his dream wouldn't die in a whimper before it even got off the ground - as a banging at the door startled him awake. The stunned salesman, lying in a heap, pulled himself across across the floor to the nearest shelf, preferring to stay low to the ground just in case fire of any kind should start flying through his store space. He considered momentarily whether or not he should cautiously call out to whatever individual seemed to be poised to break down his door, but the answer came before he could work up the nerve.

RAVIO! RAVIO! I NEED HELP! I don't know where else to go! PLEASE OPEN UP!

Standing outside the merchant's door, shaking and frantically pounding on the door but relatively composed otherwise, Amber prayed that her merchant friend would be able to provide some help, some advice, anything. She couldn't go back to her sisters, not after having had the bangle stolen from her. Sure, Aurora would eventually… no, no, not even that was a guarantee. Amber had made mistakes before, some of them arguably much worse than this, but this would hit her younger sister so much more deeply than any of it. There wasn't much that Aurora treasured more than her status as the effective head of her family, as the representative of the Argyris name and house, and that bangle had long symbolized the status in her eyes. If Amber were the one responsible for losing that physical symbol…

Unfortunately for Amber, the door remained tightly shut, though she could hear all sorts of items knocking around - some shattering even - inside of the building.

H-ho-hold on! I need my mask! I need to get dressed! Amber, ho-hold on! Tell me what happened. I'm coming!


Her explanation sped along at a mile a minute, Amber's tale barely comprehensible as she raced through the night's events, her words jumping around as quickly as her thoughts. 

It's gone, Ravio! I was walking, and there was this lady, and she was standing in the alley! And, and, and, my necklace! And there was dust! And she asked if I wanted to spend the night! And I tried to stop her! But she had, like, a toy shovel! And she took the bangle! She took it!

Inside, the scrambling merchant found his head spinning. He couldn't follow anything Amber was saying… but he had a feeling he knew what had happened. His heart dropped in his chest as he asked the question, his voice loud enough to be heard through the door but shaking and weak.

A...Amber… are you saying, you've been robbed?

YES! She took it, and I don't know what to do!

That's all he needed to hear. Ravio, only halfway done in getting his outfit all put together, fell back on his bum, holding his head in his hands as he shook it. After one worryingly large thud, Amber heard nothing but silence. After a few intense minutes, Ravio's voice finally came through the door once more.

Amber… I think… I think you need to go to the police. I'll go with you. Give me a minute. I'm so sorry, Amber, but you have to go to them. They'll be able to track it down, find out who did it. I'm sorry. I know it's hard, but you have to go to the police. 


Still stuck outside the door, Amber hesitated to respond. She had told Ravio so much about her family. He had to understand why that wasn't an option, didn't he? She suddenly felt hollow inside as the realization hit her. He wasn't going to help her. She needed someone who could help her without there being an official record, right? Even if they got it back, Aurora would never forgive her, right? No, there had to be someone else who could help her without filing a report. She could go to Valhalla, ask people on the sly there. She'd have to be careful, given easy it would be for the information to get back to her sisters, but there had to be some-

Everything okay out here? Someone shouting about a thief? 

Looking a few doors down from Ravio's, Amber spotted a new figure, an individual standing in the light spilling out of a now-opened storefront. He looked strange… like a river otter the size of a person, but he was far from the strangest person she had seen in Olympia. A still-shaking and mentally shaken Amber stared at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether or not she should share her tale with this stranger. Realizing that she wasn't going to be speaking anytime soon, the otter piped up first.

Listen, I wouldn't normally do this, but you seem so upset that I kinda have to. It's why I got into this business, to put people at ease. Name's Lyle, by the way. I was burning the midnight oil here at the office. Let me tell you, I've heard all about the thieves around here. Birds, women… I've even heard something about a bird woman. Come on in. I've been dealing with this. I can help you out.

Her heart skipped a beat. Had she been sent a miracle? Her words came slowly and betrayed her incredulity.
 
You can really help me? You don't mean calling the police or something, do you? I need this to be kept a secret.

Don't you worry. Lyle doesn't share his records with anyone. Give the financials to the regulators, give the courts the details when they send the subpoenas, but it's strict client confidentiality until then. You come into my place? Bang. You're in and out in an hour, everything you need.

On wobbling legs, Amber approached the otter, scarcely believing her good fortune. Lyle ushered her into his unit of the strip mall, even grabbing an ill-fitting coat off the coat rack right inside the building and putting it on her. She seemed to be shivering, after all, as far as he could tell.

A moment after the otter and woman slipped into the doorway, a man in a rabbit mask finally poked his head out of his shop.

Am-Amber? Wh-where… where did you go?

He scanned the entire area, but Amber had seemingly disappeared. He fretted, debating on whether he ought to go to the police on her behalf. The thought of doing nothing… it made his stomach churn. He felt sick. After a few minutes of contemplation, he finally withdrew his head back into his store, his parting words - words to no one in particular - barely more than a quavering whisper.

I'm sorry, Amber.
                                                                            XXX

An hour later, Amber was gripping the armrests of her chair so tightly that her fingers were going numb. She had to keep gripping it tighter, though, to resist the urge to get up and bolt from the room, to find someone else to help her. She trusted Lyle, but, god, was he taking forever. He had made her go over what had happened three times over the course of twenty minutes, making her go more slowly every time. After that, he had thrown all kinds of weird terms at her that made her almost - almost - wish Aurora had been there with her to translate for her. There was all this stuff about premiums, and coverage, and policy exceptions, and he had asked so many questions about everything she and her sisters owned and how much it was worth. She couldn't have understood it all at her best, and it may as well have been gibberish to her this evening. It brought her some relief when he had finished with all the questions and the business talk, but she found herself growing restless as he worked for over ten minutes to draw up paperwork.

For Lyle's part, he spent that hour reveling - internally, of course - in Amber's discomfort and her ignorance. For months, he had been encouraging his partners to focus their efforts on more lucrative demographics, the ones he could nickel-and-dime the most when he drew up a policy. The young, especially young couples just starting to find their footing in the world, those were his favorite customers. They didn't have the experience to know he took them to the cleaners with his policies, and they were oh-so-desperate to protect what little they had starting out. Elderly customers, they, too, put a smile on his face when they walked in the door. It was, after all, so easy to get them confused, to get them bogged down in so many details they didn't know what they were buying anymore. Plus, they were so sentimental. There was almost always one or two special items they were willing to spend their life savings on getting insured. After those groups, he most liked working-class folks, the relatively uneducated ones he could fleece with ease. Everything was legal, in technical terms, but anyone with any sense would have called Lyle out for the thief he was.

That's why he had to be discerning when it came to his clientele. If he suspected someone was smarter than they were letting on, he played it safer, stuck to a more normal set of policies. Thankfully for him, Amber Argyris wasn't smarter than she was letting on, at least when it came to the matters they were discussing. She'd even given him a big bonus, coming in and wanting to keep everything a secret between the two of them. It made his job easier. Yes, she was exactly the right mix of ignorant and rich that made him drool. The night that was Amber's nightmare felt like a dream for him.

He didn't fully understand what all he had become involved in. There were some thieves, There were some agents gathering information, himself included. The details didn't matter, though. He was making money hand-over-foot, bringing in dough in larger amounts than he ever had before. It wasn't exactly enough to make him a millionaire, and he had to split some of the earnings - off the books, of course - with his partners, but it was still a windfall, and he was going to stay in whatever house of cards he had been pulled into as long as he could.

Noting that Amber didn't look like she was going to sit much longer, Lyle put his name on one final document and looked up at his client, a false smile gracing his face.

Okay, I think I have everything put together here. Now, you know that I wouldn't normally do this, but I'm going to make a special exception for you. I'm going to let you lump everything you said your sisters had with them into your policy. We'll go ahead and get all of you covered under your name. Someone robs any of you? You come here. I pay you. Bang. You're covered. But, listen, you can't tell anyone, right? Not even your sisters. I could get in big trouble for doing this.

Amber let out a sigh of relief. This was it. Lyle had everything ready, and she was about to get out of this mess. Sure, she might show up really late in the morning, but she'd be back in the morning with the bangle. She shuddered at the realization she was going to have to tell Aurora to stop handling her accounts and take them over herself… but, hey, her sister would probably like that, right? And if it meant she'd still talk to her...
 
Yeah, no problem. So, if I sign all of this, and I bring the money in the morning, and you get to take money out of my account, you'll make everything right?

That's right. Lyle's got you covered. You can rest at ease.

And the bangle? You'll have it in the morning, too?

Lyle kept himself from smirking, feigning surprise. She was asking exactly the questions he had hoped she'd ask. Oh, how he loved this moment, when someone who had already been robbed came into his office, desperate to get back what they had lost. He didn't exactly know what was happening to the items that were stolen, but he did know that - as long as it happened before the end of the week - he could make a few calls and get those items delivered right to his office. It gave him a means to squeeze even more out of his most desperate customers. He had even started planting rumors about his black market connections, so he could attract even more of the people who his partners were robbing.

Your bangle? The thing that was already stolen? You're busting my chops! That's not how insurance works! I can't do that. I'd love to, but I can't pay out for what you've already lost. I'd be bankrupt in a week if I paid out after the fact.

Now Amber did spring from her chair, anger creeping into her normally cheerful voice as she shouted at the otter across the desk. She couldn't have wasted her time here… she just couldn't have…
 
But you said you could help me! And I don't want money! I just want the bangle back!

Lyle, well-versed in his art, forced a sigh. He looked into Amber's eyes, then cast his gaze towards the ground, looking contemplative and melancholy. Amber's words were mere whispers, now, and, her eyes, darting back and forth between Lyle and the clock on the wall, were beginning to well with tears.

Please… please… Lyle, please…

Finally, after what felt to Amber like an eternity, without raising his head, the otter spoke. As he spoke, he wrote down a number - quite a sum to throw around, even for a member of the Argyris household - on a notepad and slid it across the desk so Amber could read it.

Alright. Look, I hate to see people like this. I see it too much. At least I usually get to pay people. But, look, I have connections. People on the black market. They can find anything, buy it up for me. There's gotta be a fee, of course. There's always a fee. And it's big. Hazard pay. You get it. And if you want this back by morning, I'm really going to have to call in some favors. So there's an expediency fee. But if you give me this? Bang. It'll be here in the morning. Guaranteed. Can you do it? We'll shake right now. You can go wait for the banks to open, and I'll start making calls. Deal?

He wasn't lying, for once. He did actually come through on his promises to get people's stolen items back, as long as they came in early enough for him to make it possible. It was important. He had to keep his word-of-mouth reputation intact, had to get people to trust he could get their good back.

Amber hesitated to reach out and shake Lyle's hand. She stared at the number Lyle had written, a lump in her throat. She had enough that she could cover it, though she'd either have to reign in her spending for a month or two, or she'd have to… no. No, she couldn't ask for more money. Her sister would give it to her, even if only begrudgingly and with suspicions, but she couldn't ask her for it, not after all this. She wasn't even upset about the money. More than anything, she didn't want to have to lie to her sisters, to lie to anyone, really. She just wanted this problem to go away, and what problem in her life had she not been able to solve by throwing cash at it or letting someone else take care of it for her? It was something Aurora had always criticized her for, for ignoring her problems in favor of solving them as quickly as possible so she could get back to having fun. But what was wrong with that? What was wrong with her wanting to put this night behind her, and to go out with her sisters and have fun, and to go and visit Ravio and show him that all was well, so they could have fun together? Hadn't she and her sisters agreed, even, that they were all going to take a day for themselves at Valhalla sometime in the next week or two? She wasn't wrong for wanting that to still happen, without any ill feelings from this night hanging over their heads…

Right?

Trying to push the doubts out of her head, Amber reached out and shook Lyle's… paw, really. As for the otter? He finally allowed himself to smirk.

See? You can calm down. Rest. Easy. Relax. Lyle takes care of everyone who walks in his door.

Two Foolish Filmmakers

They're glorious, aren't they?

"Yes, sir. They are most impressive." 

The apartment was, to say the least, a peculiar one. One expected some eccentricities in a building as ritzy as this, some questionable choices in design and decor of the living spaces. But those eccentricities usually ran more along the lines of garish rugs and curtains, strange postmodernist art pieces, collections of wine intended for display more than for consumption. The hallmarks of high living usually didn't include dim lighting, an assortment of high-end PCs and gaming consoles of all varieties connected by a tangle of wires to an oversized home theater system, stacks of manga, the soft and quiet music of a certain Kanade Amou setting the mood, walls plastered with posters of idols and bands from the other side of the world, or shelves sagging under the weight of hundreds of colorful plastic figurines. And yet, those were the traits that defined this Manhattan apartment, this cramped little home which looked as though it had been put together by some interior designer who intended to capture in the arrangement of the space every stereotype of a NEET they could call to mind. And that was not to mention the various mechanical parts which were strewn about the floor, carelessly dumped wherever it had been convenient for the owner to do so. 

And in front of one of those aforementioned shelves stand a fairly young-looking, pasty man who, between his flaming red hair and questionable choice of an outfit, matched the apartment itself in terms of strangeness, and a vaguely humanoid robot in a maid outfit. The man lifts up one of the figurines - a mostly pink, seemingly misshapen one - holding it from its base and waving it through the air, gushing about while the robot carries on its task of dusting the shelves and the figurines on them. 

I told you how I made them all myself, right? It wasn't easy, but I think I really nailed 'em. It took me three hours to get the details on this Blasto just right, but, wew, it's a beauty. Amazing what you can do with a mind like mine and a 3D printer.

"Yes, sir. It is a testament to your genius." 

The robot may speak words of praise, but its tone remains completely flat. It could have as easily have delivered news of the impending apocalypse, and a disinterested listener would have made no distinction. Does its master seem bothered in the slightest by the monotone response? Not at all. On the contrary, he launches into a dramatic monologue, flinging his arm out - all the while gripping tightly to his prized figurine - and bringing the other to his chest so he can cover his hand with his heart. 

I know, I know. I'm too smart for my own good. It's who I am. Jack Spicer, stunning genius, they call me! 

"Yes, sir. They are most impressive." 

IIII'mmm gonna need to make your response selecting routine more sensitive to what we call context clues... 

And that seems to do it, that slip-up on the robot's part taking the wind out of Jack's sails as his posture slumps and he grumbles. Setting his figurine back on the shelf, he glares at his robotic houskeeper. His arms crossed, he lets his eyes wander around the room. He was bored. But what was there to do? His game collection? No, he had been up until three in the morning last night working on those. Browse memes on the Internet? No, that wouldn't do either. He had an itch to do something, to accomplish something, but what was there? His ultimate creation was already finished… not that he'd ever have the nerve to go and use it for its intended purpose, of course, but he could dream…. 

After mulling it over and pouting, his gaze settles on his workbench and the 3D printer atop it. Well, if there was nothing else to do, he could make another figurine, couldn't he? The thought perks him up for a moment, but he snaps back to pouting as soon as he remembers the one obstacle that had been keeping him from making more for days now - he had already created figurines for all the Kobbers he had enough information on to faithfully recreate in miniature. He'd been obsessed with the group ever since he had learned about them through a show he had picked up while scanning the airwaves for signals he could intercept and decrypt with his custom receiver. On one lucky night, he had pointed his receiver to the right area of the sky to pick up on signals coming from a station broadcast by Olympia TV. He had tuned into a show all about this eclectic mix of heroes, and he had gone to great lengths to ensure he could tune into it religiously each week after his first viewing. He dreamed of being among the Kobbers, of earning their respect and admiration - unaware that, in some ways, his dreams paralleled those of the very Kobber superfan who hosted his new favorite program. At one point, after he had learned about their ongoing conflict, he had even tried to remotely force his way into The Curse's computer systems, to see what intelligence they had on the Kobbers, but he had found their network security to be much more robust than he had anticipated and had been forced to give up without making any progress. After that, he had spent his time creating custom figurines of the Kobbers and their enemies, scanning the news for any reports of their adventures, writing fanfictions and crafting elaborate scenarios in his head, and, of course, preparing that... 

Hey, check the DVR. Any eps of Kaede's Kobber Talk I haven't watched yet? 

 "It would appear not, sir."

Pft, figures. Alright, then is there anything in there I haven't watched yet? 

"There are no new recorded shows. However, it appears that your audition tape has fin-" 

Before the robot can finish, Jack bolts across the room, now full of an energy not unlike the energy of a young child rushing towards a Christmas tree with piles of presents beneath it. His "audition tape" was finished. Oh, how he had waited for this moment. Weeks upon weeks of filming had gone into this, all a part of his perfectionist attempt to get his big debut just right. For the past few days, an editing program he had created had been putting the last pieces in place, making sure every piece of the video was put together properly. The film equipment and green screen haphazardly tucked away in the corner of the apartment spoke to how much he had invested in this project.

Settling into a chair - the very one where he had left a beret and a megaphone sitting in so he could truly get into character when this moment came - in front of his television and with a remote in hand, Jack shouts at no one in particular. 

Alright everybody, places! Now, I know that this is a historic moment, the first screening of my masterpiece, the work of art that's going to get me recognized as a hero among the Kobbers, so your excitement is perfectly understandable. Talking during the first screening, however, is not acceptable. Please, if not for me, keep quiet for posterity. Think of the child- Okay, oh god, oh god, shuuuuuuuuuuusssssssh! It's starting! 

As Jack practically vibrates in his seat, barely restraining himself from squealing, the screen comes to life in a flash, showing Jack in what appears to be a dark, secluded laboratory. The onscreen Jack, his lower body obscured by the countertop in front of him looks right into the camera, flailing his arms as if he were a wannabe rapper. 

Yoooo, what's up, Olympia? It's ya boi, Jack Spicer coming to you live from The Teapot. Yeah, that's right. I said it. The Teapot. I'm hanging here with my main girl Dawn in her super top-secret lab. Turns out, she needed some help with some problem she's been having, and she came to me to see if I could figure it out. We're chill like that. She told me everything, and, within a few hours, I had a solution all worked out for her. 

Yeah. That's just how it is when you're a techno-master like me. I was going to leave her with the solution and let her go off to work on it, but, then she asked if I could come demonstrate it in practice, and, well, what can I say? I'm too much of a nice guy for my own good. I cleared a few more hours out of my schedule to come and show her how it's done. Guess I'm kind of a big name around here these days. I hang with Kobbers left and right. They're always asking me to come help them out of a pinch. Can you blame 'em? Who else could come up with technology like this? 

The onscreen Jack bends down, pulling up with him a moderately sized-device, one with an oversized polished gem-cut ruby embedded in a solid metal cube with a collection of small switches on four of its faces. On the top, next to the ruby itself, was one more switch, an oversized one. He sets it on the counter, flicks the top switch, and gestures to the machine with the same pride most would reserve for presenting their children or the love of their life. 

See this baby? Little tool I whipped up myself. You ever run into a situation where you think, "boy, some telekinetic levitation sure would be nice right about now, but that takes so much mental energy. I just can't focus on anything else when I'm manipulating something with my power"? No, wait. Don't answer that. I know you have. But listen, the solution's simple. All you've gotta do is offload all that mental work to something else. And that's what this here does. Don't believe me? Watch and learn. 

The onscreen Jack flips one of the switches on the side, and, behind him, a cardboard box rises up into the air. With a smug look of satisfaction, he flicks another switch, and a toolbox, its contents spilling out onto the floor as it comes open, rises up next to the cardboard box. Another switch flips, and a metal scrap floats up with them. 

That's right. This magical ruby lets you telekinetically manipulate anything or anyone you want. But I looked at it, and a thought struck me. Why limit yourself to one thing at a time? You can only make them float at this point, but my brilliant invention lets you lift up to twenty items at once and leaves you free to keep your focus on the fight. I know, I know. It's a game-changer, right? But that's how I roll. Ya boi knows what's up. The real power lies in using technology to enhance magical artifacts and to bring them to their full potential. Yep, I'm a wellspring of ideas. I've even cooked myself up a secret weapon that's going to win me the Big Bar Brawl. Well, if I enter. Jack shrugs his shoulders. It's such a surefire win it'd almost be boring. I want everyone else to have their chance. But, hey, I might be a bigtime hero, but I'm still a normal guy. I strap my goggles on over my head just like all of you out there. Stop me if ya ever see me around. I'll sign you an autograph. I- The ringing of a cell phone cuts Jack off, leading him to turn away from the camera. Oh, hang on. I gotta take this. 

The onscreen Jack plays up the call for all its worth, even going so far to unnecessarily repeat the "conversation" that's happening on the other side of the line. Ya got Jack. Huh? Celestia? You want me to come run some improvements on Skeiron? Yeah, I can do that. Clicking off his phone and clicking his machine's main switch off - sending all of the floating items crashing down at once in the process - Jack turns back to the camera. You heard her. Duty calls. Jack's gotta blast, but don't worry. I'm not leaving you anytime soon. Olympia's always going to be safe as long as Jack Spicer, genius hero, is around! 

As the screen goes dark, the real Jack, who has let a single tear stream down his cheek in an overly dramatic fashion and has left his mouth hanging agape, applauds his own film with vigor. Stun-ning. A true masterpiece. I've never seen anything like it. The white balance, the composition, everything was just how I envisioned it. But, whoa whoa whoa, I'm getting ahead of myself. It's not about my opinion. Any good filmmaker knows to wait to see what they critics have to say. So… With a click of a button on his remote, another pre-recorded clip pops up on the screen, this one featuring Jack in his apartment. What do you have to say, Posijack? 

On the screen, Jack brings his palms together, closes his eyes, deeply inhales, and then speaks with all the quiet respectfulness of an art critic at a gallery exhibition. Well Jack, I think what we have here can only be described in one word. Masterpiece. That's what this is. A cinematic achievement in every form. There's a few rough edges. Maybe we lose the "ya boi". It's overdone. But other than that? I don't know what could be better than what we have here. Everything comes together beautifully to tell an irresistible story framed by directorial genius. 

The real Jack mirrors his onscreen counterpart's deep inhalation, contendly letting his pre-recorded self stroke his ego. Strong words. Those are some high praises. I guess this really might be another work of legend from Spicer Productions. But! Before we know for sure, we should check in with our harshest critic. He clicks his remote once more, bringing up yet another pre-recorded video of Jack in his apartment. What do you think, Critijack? 

Onscreen, Jack paces back and forth, muttering under his breath, shaking his head as he raises his voice to make his mutterings more audible. Well Jack, I gotta tell me the truth. I think that this is the most pathetic film I've ever seen, starring the most pathetic man-child I've ever seen. Honestly, I'm ashamed of me. I can't believe that I would ever even think about posting this to the Internet. It's even harder to think that I'm dreaming of leaving for Olympia right afterwards. All I see here is a pathetic man who's so desperate for friends that he spends his sad little life tucked away talking to robots and recording messages for himself because it's the only companionship he has. Do I really think that this is what's going to win us friends? Do I really think that the Kobbers are going to want to have a thing to do with me after they see garbage like this? With a sudden burst of anger, Jack rushes at the camera, his face taking up the entire screen as he shouts. WELL DO I? 

Nearly jumping from his chair to hide behind it, the real Jack ekes out a weak reply. Eep! N-n-no sir!

Onscreen, Jack backs off, but he doesn't take his eyes off the camera, peering right into it - right at himself - the entire time as he speaks. Jack. Come on. We're better than this. Sure, we've failed at everything we've ever tried before. We failed at the corporate world, at academia, at breaking into the movie business, our short art career, becoming an accountant… couldn't hack it as an archeologist after we saw that first snake… couldn't make it when we tried to sell weapons - I still can't believe someone else had the idea to try and sell superweapons to villains before we did… we went for world domination ourselves that one time, but then we ended up crying all morning when we squashed that ladybug… 

As the onscreen Jack rattles off a list of his failures, the real Jack grows increasingly uncomfortable, shifting around in his chair, looking around for a savior as if he were trapped in an awkward conversation. After another minute of listening to himself, he finally elects to hit the fast forward button, waiting another thirty seconds as the onscreen Jack speeds through the remainder of the list. 

...and let's not talk about the time we tried to become a postman. But that's not the point! The point is that this is something we've never tried before! Use that big brain, think about it! We may have failed at everything else, but we've never failed at being a hero before! And there's one part of that video that isn't a lie. You don't need to pretend to be someone you aren't… 

For a brief moment, the real Jack brightens up, looking at his onscreen counterpart with hope in his eyes. The moment doesn't last long, Jack soon casting his gaze downwards as he's gripped by a sudden fear. But... what if they don't like me? 

...because they're going to like our technology, and if we show them the real us, if we don't put on this whole act, they're going to like us, too. Jack, listen to me. This is our one shot. This is our last chance to get out into the world and to stop hiding in the apartment and to stop talking to ourselves. So let me tell me what I'm going to do. Jack makes a fist with one hand, using his other hand to raise his fingers as he starts in on a rousing speech, going all in on the theatrics of the moment. One. We're going to delete this video. Don't post it. Just don't. Two. We're going to get our things, all the tech, all the artifacts, and we're going to get it packed up and make sure it's ready for immediate deployment… 

At this point, the real Jack rises from his chair, slowly finding his own energy and confidence again as he starts to recall his own speech word for word. He joins in with his onscreen counterpart, slowly and quietly at first, but with his volume and intensity rising as the speech continues. Three. We're going to go to Olympia, and the first week of May, we are going to march into that bar the Kobbers congregate in. Four. Then, the first threat that comes our way, we're going to join in and show them how useful we can be. 

Alright, Jack, thanks for the pep talk, but I think I've got it covered from here. Jack Spicer - the real Jack Spicer - clicks his television off as he surveys the room, standing with his shoulders square and his chest puffed up with newfound pride. His voice echoes throughout the room, Jack undeterred even as his upstairs neighbor bangs on the floor in an attempt to tell him to quiet down. 

Get ready, Olympia! Next month, you're going to meet your newest hero. Kobber extraordinaire, heroic genius, Jack Spicer! MWAHAHAHAHA! 

XXX 

Elsewhere in the world, another amateur filmmaker is having a decidedly less thrilling experience…

As you might expect, the Seviper on the island, freed from competition with Zangoose and facing no species which have any innate immunity to their venom…

On the beach of an island in the Kuwahawai Archipelago stands Yuka Suzuki, the sea and setting sun at her back and a camera set up on a large, flat-topped rock in front of her. Next to the camera sits a laptop and a stack of blank DVD discs. Next to the laptop are three disc cases, each of them already labeled. She had prepared the cases and the labels in advance, so that she couldn't talk herself out of making them later. She had addressed one to Lisa Basil, figuring that including video evidence of her research and findings might assist her in convincing Olympia's officials to approve her application for a new business in the city. Another had been addressed to Dr. Professor Doctor. Why? She couldn't answer the question herself. He had inspired her to go through with this, true, but it felt to her more like she was doing it because he was the only connection she had in Olympia… The third case was addressed to Dana Zane, or, really, to the bar she ran. She still wasn't certain whether or not she wanted to send that one. True, she had had some adventures with its patrons, but she didn't feel like she could truly call herself one of them. Yet, the idea of sending a video announcing her plans to them and getting word of mouth spreading early… It only seemed like good business sense... 

But, her eyes looking past the camera and glazed over with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation, Yuka, with her skin - never quite having acclimated to the archipelago's intense sunlight - red all over with sunburn - isn't thinking about any of that. As a matter of fact, she's not thinking much about anything as she runs through her scripted and heavily-rehearsed presentation for the seventh time today, all of her previous takes having been ruined by some event or another. The daylight was fading. Yes, this take was already a mess, but she wasn't going to try this again tomorrow. Nothing catastrophic had happened yet this take, so, even if it wasn't the most professional, she was ready to use this one if it meant her suffering would come to an end. 

And what had caused that suffering? 

One of the causes was Isabela, the Salazzle who, even now, in this seventh take, keeps sticking her hands and snout in front of the camera she was ostensibly supposed to be operating. 

Another source of suffering was Tokaru, the Seviper currently wrapped around her body who had, until she fell asleep minutes ago, been sniping at her "sister," Nephila, the Ariados perched upon Yuka's head. The two of them had been at each other's throats all day, undoubtedly a result of Tokaru's aggressive nature. The Seviper on these islands were aggressive predators, even more so than typical Seviper elsewhere. Usually, Seviper were kept in check by Zangoose. Most Zangoose populations had an unusually high proportion of alleles which favored immunity to toxins, a state of affairs which was only amplified when Seviper populations were around to provide a selective pressure for ever more robust resistance to poison. Almost everywhere, Seviper and Zangoose were locked in an evolutionary arms race, as Seviper venom became more powerful and Zangoose evolved to resist it. It was a simple story, one seen throughout the domains of life, but, here, on the island on which she had captured Tokaru, things had proceeded differently. There were no Zangoose here. When Seviper had arrived on the island, they had decimated the local ecosystem, eating everything in sight and booming in population. Of course, after a short while, the population crashed, the Seviper having eaten all of the easily-accessible food. Soon, the Seviper with weaker venom, the ones which could invest more in early growth and reproduction, came to dominate. Venom was useful enough as a tool for prey capture to be retained, but the venom of these Seviper might as well have been water compared to Seviper populations elsewhere. With competition for food fierce, the biggest driver of selection in the island's Seviper populations became the ability to directly compete with rivals, and the island's Sevipers grew to have ever more aggressive instincts and ever sharper fangs and bladed tails. 

Nephila, who as a sit-and-wait predator tolerated her sister's antics with a great deal of patience, only occasionally spitting a bit of webbing to deter her while she sat comfortably on her perch, had been an accidental capture… sort of. Yuka had felt compelled to remove the Ariados from the island it had been left on, especially once she found out that it was the worst kind of invasive pest. It was devastating the local fauna not because they were ill-equipped to deal with it - there were plenty of other Ariados on the island and the local species were adept at avoiding them, but because it possessed a powerful tool that none of its prey stood a chance against - Egg Moves. Pokémon bred by trainers and then left behind in the wild were among the worst of a conservationist's scourges because they had access to techniques that no wild populations could conceivably have a defense for. They weren't as common as the jokes would imply, but, to a naturalist like Yuka, they were a terror no matter how rare they were. In Nephila's case, she had been using Electroweb to attract and fry swarms of the island's nocturnal insects, drawing in so much food that the other Ariados on the island were starting to starve. Yuka had resolved to remove the troublesome Ariados by capturing it in a trap, but, after a misadventure which ended with her wrapped up in an electrified web, she had been forced to capture it in a Dusk Ball, and she hadn't been able to bring herself to release the critter. 

And while Nephila and Tokaru had bickered, Mephita, the merely months-old Stunky who Yuka had found abandoned, weak and starving, in a den, chased around Lux, the Venomoth Yuka had captured as a part of the same string of events that had led her to capture Nephila. She normally had a policy of never taking in the creatures she studied out of sympathy, but she had made an exception because she hadn't taken in Mephita so much as Mephita had, against all odds, followed Yuka back to the cabin where she was staying. Lux was fairly even-keeled, and he made for a good playmate and babysitter for Mephita… most of the time. When he tired and wanted a break, he would blow Mephita away with a gust of wind, sending the baby of the group scurrying over to Yuka to beg for her trainer to pick her up and coddle her. Now, the sunlight fading fast, Mephita sleeps peacefully, cradled in Yuka's arms, and Lux contentedly flutters next to Yuka, keeping a wary eye on Nephila. 

Oddly enough, Yuka's one saving grace today had been Pepta, the usually-ornery Gulpin who had sat happily for the entire filming process with a pile of berries in front of it, Lux the babysitter helping to keep Mephita from disturbing Now, like so many of her companions, Pepta rests, the sleeping Gulpin sinking into the warm sands as Yuka continues droning on. 

Now, we've covered my research on these islands, and the potential applications of my findings. So we're prepared to turn to the matter of my application for a license to operate a business in Olympia. Please allow me to begin by reviewing the benefits having a consulting service specialized in toxinological matters would bring to the city... 

Once, the toxinologist had considered coming to Olympia her biggest mistake, but now, after five months in Kuwahawai? She couldn't wait to get back to the city in a month's time...

Four Thieving Birds

On The Outskirts of Senka

In the early morning, the masses began to trickle into the neighborhood known around the Undercity as Senka. Every morning, before most were even awake, around four and five, sellers and the most motivated of buyers began making their way into the shaded markets to get a jump on business. Most customers arrived a little later in the morning, in the primetime slot that started around six and lasted only until the point in the morning when the markets became crowded. Not only did the crowds make the best deals and connections harder to find, but they helped to hide the folks who Senka's sellers didn't want at the markets, folks like cops, like private detectives and journalists. From around eleven in the morning to ten at night, the crowds became thicker, and the most secretive of merchants shut down their operations, only to return in the late hours of the evenings to take advantage of the small slice of time where the crowds thinned while the markets remained open. 

Morning, evening, noon, dusk, it all flowed together in the Undercity in a way that it didn't upstairs, in that world exposed to the sky. That didn't mean that the flow of time had no meaning in the depths of Olympia. On the contrary, it just allowed for the population to keep to their own rhythms, to distance themselves from the schedules of the world above, to a certain extent. Most folks, out of necessity and ease, kept to a similar schedule, but some Undercity residents had reason to stagger their schedules, to move out of lockstep with the masses so they could better hide their business. For these folks, becoming attuned to the subtle rhythms of the Undercity was more than just a way of making life easier; it was a necessity. 

All of this, perhaps, explains why, not long past five in the morning, a youthful-looking woman lounges upon a rooftop just outside of Senka proper. She scans the street, her eyes darting to the source of every sign of motion as she tries to keep mental tabs on the number of people she sees going in and out of the shaded markets. She only takes her eyes off the street briefly, when she turns her head to munch upon her breakfast. Said breakfast consists of slices of Hyoi Pears, which she plucks from a nearby plain wooden bowl, the meal originally having been set out on a windowsill in the Outer City as a treat for the city's birds before she swiped it for herself. With her brown and white dress, brown cap, and flowing strings of pink ribbons to match her pinkish-brownish hair, she'd almost look unremarkable, like a fairly attractive woman but without much to set her apart, if not for two small things. The large pair of wings on her back and the celestial pattern adorning parts of them make her stand out immediately, further accentuated by the smaller decorative wings adorning her hat. Her nails, purple and long and sharp enough to be more properly called claws, similarly set her apart from Olympia's average residents.

Relatively unknown in the world due to her tendency to drift from place to place, Mystia Lorelei rarely bothered to explain her peculiar features to those around her, though there was a simple explanation. Mystia was a night sparrow, a curious mix of a bird and a yokai wandering the world. She and others of her kind had, on the whole, an inclination for mischief, a desire to strike fear into the hearts of others. Many myths had grown about night sparrows, some true generally and some with only a kernel of truth arising from one or two encounters with particular individuals. Some claimed, correctly, that they would inflict blindness on those who caught them or disturbed them. Others claimed, sometimes correctly and sometimes incorrectly, that they were portents of danger in the mountains, and that where there was a night sparrow, soon wolves would follow. Yet others claimed that they had an appetite for humans, a myth that was patently untrue but persisted thanks to the efforts of night sparrows who reveled in perpetuating such misconceptions. 

Mystia, for her part, seems to express no interest in any mischief as she continues to monitor the street below. She only hums a song between bites, her range and vocal control clear even though she limits herself to merely humming as she scans the street. Though her eyes track closely the gradually-increasing foot traffic, her mind wanders as she curses her misfortunes. She had come to Olympia intending to join The Curse, certain that her unique skillset and cunning mind - as she described it to herself - would pave her an easy path into the organization's highest ranks. She had dreamed from the moment she first found out about The Curse of hobnobbing with men of wealth and power like Giovanni and Don Genie. When it came out that Natasha Nielsen, the CEO of Olympia TV, had been among The Curse's elite, Mystia had only grown more certain of her ability to manipulate her way to the top. Unfortunately for the night sparrow, however, that news only came out as part of The Curse's collapse. For her, the entire appeal of The Curse was wrapped up in the idea of joining a group that had already conquered a city, a group that she could join so she could manipulate her way up to the top ranks and step into a life of power and prestige without having to do any real work to attain her position. Sure, she could join The Cure, or try her luck with any of the little gangs vying to fill the power vacuum left by The Curse's collapse. But in either of those cases, she'd have to put in far too much effort for her tastes. She wanted to join a group that had already done most of the hard work for her, not some group that still had a long way to go to establish its dominance. 

She had come to Olympia only months ago, arriving just as The Curse completely collapsed in October. It hadn't been all bad; she had been able to salvage the trip out here by finding another way to occupy her time and get by. It still irritated her, however, that she had been forced to waste so much time in the flying city with no plans for the future and minimal resources. She'd tried to find another group in the Undercity worth joining, but she had run into dead ends at every turn.

As she delves deeper and deeper into her self-pity, Mystia interrupts her humming to grumble something, her irritation only exacerbated as she absentmindedly reaches a hand into a now-empty bowl. 

If only the Black Hole Gang were still around… They might've been able to rise up and clean house down here. What does a night sparrow need to do to fi-

Mystia's whining comes to an abrupt halt as she snaps her head around to look back down at the street. The traffic had picked up, but, at this precise moment, only a strange couple ambles their way towards Senka proper. Sensing an opportunity to make her first sale of the day, Mystia springs to her feet, knocking her empty bowl aside and sending it over the edge of the rooftop as she does. She leaps from her perch into a nearby alley, beating her wings to slow her descent so she can land safely. Once on the ground, she scrambles to retrieve a large, clearly jerry-rigged if passable food cart from its hiding place within the ally, wheeling it out into the street and setting herself up on the side of the road, far enough ahead of the couple she had spotted to give herself a few moments to prepare. 

As the couple approaches, Mystia cheerfully calls out to the duo from behind her stand, loud enough for the pair to notice her but not so much that she'd attract unwanted attention to herself or her potential customers. Her well-rehearsed routine is as natural as breathing, at this point, and she puts on a much friendlier persona to attract her targets.

Up early, aren't we? I know how it is. The early bird catches the worm, right? But it's really more like "the early bird gets the shiny rock and forgets to eat breakfast". I'd bet you two are huuuuu-nger-y!

One member of the pair - the shorter, smaller man - turns his head to look at Mystia and her stand. He hesitates on his way for a moment, a brief moment of contemplation that Mystia takes notice of. The larger man, walking hand-in-hand with his partner, continues onwards without acknowledging Mystia, save for a shake of his head. Tugging on his partner's arm, he drags the smaller man along with him. Acting quickly to avoid losing her marks, Mystia continues her pitch. 

It's cheeeeap! C'mon, you're hungry, right? I have something that's not like anything else you've had around here. And the best part? It's waaaaaarm! What could be a better start to your day than a nice hot breakfast? 

Mystia watches with a satisfied smirk as the smaller man tugs on the larger man's sleeve, whispering something to him. After a brief conference, the two men turn back and start on their way towards her cart, the larger man looking rather grumpy about the whole ordeal. He's the first to speak once they arrive at the cart, immediately snapping at Mystia in a gruff voice. 

"Fine. Dale wants a bite, so my Dale gets a bite. That's how it is. What'd'ya got, ya crow?"

Mystia bristles at being called a crow, but she shoves her instinct to throw the insult back at the man down into her throat, more interested in getting his money than in defending her dignity. She pulls out from within the cart two skewers with chunks of meat on them. She had cooked up a batch of these skewers when she had roused, before she left to find her own breakfast. Cooked nearly an hour earlier, they had been kept warm in the food cart while she waited for customers. 

Oh, do I have a treat for you! This is my famous grilled lamprey, cooked like yakitori but so much better than those dry, awful chunks of chicken. You'll love it!

A curious expression creeps across the faces of both men at the moment Mystia mentions the word "lamprey," neither of them sure what to make of the unusual meal, apparently. The larger man glances at Dale, focusing on his expression. Dale cocks his head, then slowly shakes it. The larger man, clearly having seen all he wants to see, turns back to Mystia, already turning to leave as the words come out of his mouth. 

"Uh. Nah. You vegan types don't make no sense to me. Soybeans, lamb-preys, 'shrooms… Don't know why people can't just eat meat that's actually meat. We're done here."

Oh! But didn't you realize? I can give you a free sample! If you don't like it, well, that's fine, you can keep it. But I guarantee you'll like it! Promise!

The larger man once again looks to Dale, and, only receiving a non-committal shrug in response, spins around on his feet. The duo returns to Mystia and extend their hands as she hands them each one skewer with just a single piece of meat on it as a sample. As the two men munch on their meat, Mystia monitors their facial expressions closely, working hard not to let her excitement creep into her own expression. The fun, after all, always started once the marks had taken the bait... After chewing for a moment, the larger man looks once more at Dale. With an unspoken communication, the duo both toss the empty skewers aside and give Mystia a nod. 

"It was alright, but nothing special. We don't need none. Thanks for the snack."

You tried something new, and that's what matters! Maybe next time you'll want more. Or, if you want, you could even tell your friends about me! I'd really appreciate it! People seem to stay away from this area. Guess I should probably move, right? But there's just so much good food in this city. I can't compete with all the people out there. So the more people who would come here, the better I am. It's gotta be better for the community, too, right? I think so. More people down here spending money can only help.

Mystia keeps up her friendly airs as she thanks the duo, but she has an ulterior motive for keeping their attention with her rambling. As she speaks, she flaps her wings and rubs her claws together, as subtly as possible, the beating of her wings barely perceptible and her claw-rubbing played off as a nervous tic. The pair of men don't even take note of it, nor do they notice Mystia's widening grin as she watches clouds of darkness coalesce around the mens' faces. She suppresses a laugh when, a moment later, the taller man interrupts her ramblings with a revealingly concerned comment. 

"Ey, the hell? Dale, am I going blind or did the lights go out? I can barely see my hand in front of my face."

"I-I-I can't see anything either, Frank. I-I-It's like, there's a little light, but everything but the outlines are all black!"

"The goddamn hell? It's happening to you too? What kinda drugs did you put in that meat, lady?!"

What? Everything's all black? Oh no!

Mystia feigns a gasp, even placing her hand over her chest all the while knowing the two men can't see her at all. Now that they can't see her, she lets her excitement show clearly on her face. She practically dances, reveling in her success, as she steps just out of reach of the larger man, who keeps reaching in her general direction in a pitiful attempt to grab her while only succeeding in nearly stumbling forward and hitting his hand on her cart. The pair's sudden blindness was no accident, nothing unknown to her. She had inflicted them with night blindness. Her power to inflict blindness worked best when the environment was already dark, and the dimmer Undercity was just dark enough to let her use her passive power to spectacular effect. Continuing to avoid the infuriated man, Mystia effortlessly spins a yarn to explain the blindness. 

Oh no, no no no no! This isn't good at all. Didn't you hear? The hospitals have been swamped! There's some horrible, awful magical curse inflicting people all over the city. They can't figure out the pattern. They think that maybe it has something to do with people doing some weird magical rituals in the Green Hell Zone awhile back, but I don't think they really know. It just hits people at random. And if you don't treat it right away, you'll go blind permanently! I've just been so scared. Thankfully I put some special herbs of clarity in some of the lamprey, just in case I needed to treat myself quickly. Just eat a whole lamprey and it'll cure you in no time.

Knowing the pair can't see her, Mystia nevertheless sways from side to side in a gleeful pseudo-dancing as she builds up to the climax of her lies. No moment was better than this, when she was set to deliver her clinching line in one of her schemes.

I don't have many, so they're pretty valuable. I'd say… three hundred each? That's fair. If you can't do that, I'll just take everything you have on you and we'll call it even. 

The men, well-versed in dealing with the scammers and dishonest merchants in Senka's black markets, don't swallow Mystia's bait quite as easily as she hoped they would. Frank - his quest to grab her despite his lack of sight long abandoned - begins to bang on Mystia's food cart in an attempt to damage it as she speaks. When she names her price, however, he explodes at her suggestion that they pay her.

"That's the biggest load of BULL I've ever heard! There's not gonna be no money, ya piece of crap pigeon. You're gonna fix this now, or I'm gonna put you on the grill and shove a stick through ya!"

Mystia frowns, not at the man's damage to her food cart - that'd be easy to repair, as shoddy as it was in the first place - but at his insistence on being difficult. She sighs, but doesn't let the men bring her down for long. Rather than responding to his threat, she simply clears her throat. Then, she begins to sing. She sings nothing in particular, just a simple melody, one with nonsensical syllables to fill in for words. To her own ears, it was nothing more than a beautiful piece, matching anything a songbird or a professional singer could produce 

To the two men, though, Mystia's song couldn't have been anything further from beautiful. The two men cover their ears and, though blinded, begin to look around frantically as a horrifying cacophony of voices descends upon them. A multitude of voices - their own voices, their family's voices, the voices of singers and public speakers they had heard, voices of friends, and unfamiliar voices both angelic and demonic - whisper to the men, serenade the men, and threaten them all at once. At first, they appear to reel in pain and stagger backwards, barely able to stand as the sensory onslaught hits them. They scream and beg, speaking to the voices only they hear. 

Then, as Mystia finishes her song and looks at the duo with a satisfied grin, they go silent. They cease to move. Still blind, they nevertheless look around, unsure of where they are, barely certain of who they are. 

"Wh-a-a-t's going on?"

It's only Dale's voice which makes the larger man speak once again. 

"I… I don't know. We were… uhhhhh…. ahhhh, we were… I don't know nothing, Dale. I can't see a thing, and my head's spinning…"

As the larger man puts his palm to his temples and Dale begins to weep, Mystia interjects, reminding both men of her presence even as they both struggle to remember who she is and why they know her. 

Oh no, it's worse than I thought! Don't you remember? You need to get to the hospital right away! Oh, but first, you wanted one of my herb-infused lamprey, remember? You each had just agreed to buy one for three hundred dollars?

"Three hundred?"

The larger man's response is not one of incredulity. He definitely recalls the number three hundred, after all. It sounds so familiar, but… where had he heard it? Why did he associate it with this voice he was hearing, offering him some quick cure and telling him to go to the hospital? It sounded familiar, almost like it could be right, what she was saying, but…

Right, three hundred. Times two of you, that's six hundred. So, I'll just give you the lamprey, and then you'll eat it, and give me the money. It should help you enough to get you to a hospital. They'll cure you there. 

Too confused to resist or to consider her words, the two men begin to obediently eat as she places lamprey in their hands and helps guide their hands to their mouths. As they eat, she slowly lifts the blindness, letting them see once again at her will. 

See? The herbs in the lamprey help you see for just a few minutes, so you can get to the hospital. But you really need to get going. It won't last long. Oh, but first, the money!

The pair of men, obedient putty in Mystia's hands in their befuddled state, comply as she aids them in searching for the cash on their persons. Six hundred was a steep amount, yes, but the two of them had been on their way to black markets where cash reigned supreme and nothing came cheap. Helpfully directing the men in the process of picking their own pockets clean, of searching through every possible place they might've been keeping cash on them. When they had produced the six hundred dollars she was looking for, Mystia briefly considers whether or not she could extort more from the duo before ultimately deciding not to press her luck. 

Placing her hands on their shoulders, Mystia physically guides the two men, turning their bodies one at a time to point them towards the roads leading away from Senka, the roads away from her. 

Now, remember, you need to get to the hospital right away. My cure's only going to last for a few minutes, so it's extra important you hurry and get there as fast as you can. 

Unable to refute her logic, the men indeed take off in a rush, hurrying away from the original destination as Mystia snickers and begins counting her cash, today's haul already a sizeable addition to her growing wealth - sitting at a cool grand, currently - from con after con. She can't help but tilt her head a little and put on a cutesy smile, watching the men disappear from view. They wouldn't make it to a hospital, but they wouldn't need one, either. Even had she not dropped the night blindness, its effects would've faded with enough distance between her and her targets, and the confusion would wear off with time. Soon enough, they'd come to their senses and come back to look for her, the woman who had swindled them so gracefully. Of course, that was the point of sending them off to look for a hospital. The extra time they'd have to spend on making the return trip would just give her a good cushion to get away and lay low for the day. 

Pleased with herself as she can be, Mystia wanders back over to her now-damaged food cart. With a quick glance up and down the street and down the nearby alley and seemingly no one around, Mystia sets her cash down on the top of the cart as she bends down to procure herself a treat. While she preferred the Hyoi Pears, the one thing she didn't lie about was her skill in preparing grilled lamprey. 

From its own perch on a nearby rooftop, another bird watches Mystia with keen eyes. It had arrived near the beginning of her exchange with the two men, shortly after she had handed them their free samples. Despite using the rooftops herself, she hadn't thought to scour them for potential thieves, an oversight which the intelligent avian creature had not failed to pick up upon. Taking her glances up and down the street as a signal she was about to let her guard down, the bird on the rooftop puffs up its feathers and shakes out its wings. Then, the moment Mystia lays her money down and bends down…

For Mystia, it happens in a flash, in a brief instant almost too short to process. Just as she raises her head, a piece of lamprey now in hand, she lets out a gasp, confronted with the sight of an unsightly vulture-like bird - one which had strange head adornments not unlike tufts of cotton - swooping by, her cash now in its talons. Turning its head back to see Mystia's expression turn to one of pure rage, the strange bird - a creature known as the Takkuri - lets out a vocalization that sounds vaguely like a mix between a mocking laugh and a vulture's grunting, happy to watch Mystia shrink over its wings as it soared further and further from the swindler-turned-victim. The Takkuri's glee quickly turns to panic, however, when its latest target does something its previous victims never had. 

Thought you could get one over on me? Just you wait until I catch you.

Mystia doesn't raise her voice as she pockets her piece of lamprey and takes off into the air in pursuit of the bird that had made off with her haul. She lets no hint of anger creep into her words. Instead, she speaks calmly and slowly, her widening smile - clearly a smile to fear, the smile of a person ready to inflict pain on another creature and revel it - and the fires of rage in her eyes doing more than enough to communicate her anger without words. Her expression alone sends the Takkuri into a panic, the bird squawking and turning its head to get a better view of its route as it jets forward with as much speed as it can muster. As fast as the Takkuri flies, Mystia nevertheless manages to gain upon it, slowly closing the gap. 

With the gap between itself and Mystia growing ever smaller, the Takkuri does the one thing it can think to do to try and shake its pursuer. Taking her towards Senka proper, the bird, just barely remaining out of Mystia's reach, dives underneath the arches and overhangs that keep Senka's markets in the shadows. Glancing back over its wing for but a brief moment, the bird is struck not with relief, but panic. Only slowing down slightly, Mystia matches the birds aerial acrobatics as she herself dives under the neighborhood's overhangs, continuing the chase just feet above the heads of the crowds milling about in the markets.

In Senka's Markets

In a sizeable and exclusive stall set apart from most of Senka's shaded markets by the tent covering it, a casually-dressed middle-aged man chuckles to himself as he looks over his own haul for the day. He had made good money already today, enough that he could close up shop early. He takes the last few goods he has on display in his stall and, sweeping his arm across the display to collect them all at once, sweeps them unceremoniously into a cardboard box. Some of the items were quite valuable, true, but he had little reason to care if they were damaged, so long as he could turn a profit on them. Trying to press some of the items down so he can get the box to close completely, he takes a glance at the three perches set up behind him, at the back of his personal tent. Two of the perches are occupied, with two large birds taking a rest atop them. One of the birds - an orange condor with impressively spanning black wings - was known as Klepto. The other bird was nothing more than a mere Honchkrow, albeit one larger than most members of its species. The man's eyes glide over the two birds, settling instead on the one empty perch. He taps his foot impatiently. 

The ugly one should be back by now...

This man, Koi King, better known around Senka as "King Karp," was one of the biggest merchants in Senka, one of the biggest names in Olympia's black markets. He was so well-known, so respected for his skill of staying just out of the law's reach that he had even earned an exclusive stall in the neighborhood's market, one from which he could filter out visitors, choosing only to meet with his trusted associates and customers. He'd been in Olympia for years now, making mounds of cash through illicit dealings and scams. But in all his years working in the city, he had never had a windfall quite like he had in recent months. First, the collapse of The Curse had been a boon for his bottom line, freeing him from having to make the payments for "protection" that had allowed him to keep operating independently. A breeze of fortune in his sails turned into a full on gale not long afterwards, when he had been approached by a nervous, black-haired kid with a special proposition. He hadn't seen that kid since their first meeting, but, boy had his decision to join in the kid's scheme worked out well. A week after his meeting with the young buck, he followed the kid's instructions and found a stash of stolen goods tucked away with directions for the next week's dropoff point. Karp didn't know who was collecting these stolen goods, didn't know if it was the kid he had originally met with or someone else altogether, but, week after week, he had picked up a new set of pilfered valuables and a fresh set of directions. Any money he made off the goods was pure profit, so he was more than happy to keep taking part in the scheme. Of course, he did have to leave some cash behind at each dropoff, but whoever he was working with didn't seem to be keeping too close of an eye on him; the cash he was leaving behind was closer to twenty percent of his profits than the fifty percent he had originally agreed upon with the kid. 

Yet the pilfered goods kept flowing. And in December, he had received a special bonus. At one of his usual weekly dropoffs, he had found a gift waiting for him in the form of three caged birds and a special set of instructions. The note promised that the birds were skilled thieves, and that they would snatch even more goods for him to sell. Of course, the note specified that he was to split the profits from any goods the birds stole with his mysterious furnisher of wares, but, since they didn't seem to mind him keeping some of their share for himself, that hadn't much concerned him. Not completely sure of how to handle the birds, he had almost considered selling them, but after a few trial runs, they had proven just as skilled as the note had indicated. While he didn't care much for them, the birds had proven useful tools, so he had even prepared them a little space in his stall, not even minding the costs of feeding them with the extra revenue they brought him as high as it was. 

Of course, the note he had found with the  had contained one other special offer, a proposition just for him that promised some big money, more than he could make in months even with the aid of the birds. The thought of the money his mysterious associates were offering him was so enticing as to make him salivate. He could have a truly enormous bonus, if he wanted it, but to this point, he had hesitated. Why? Because in order to receive his bonus, he would have to drop off, along with his usual payment, the pelt of some girl named Myuri Kraft. The moral dilemma of having to kill someone, especially someone who he knew nothing more about than a basic description, didn't bother him. No, the only reason he had yet to act was because going after her himself, or even taking a hit out on her through his usual connections, exposed him to too much risk. He'd stayed out of the reach of the cops for years, but there was quite a difference between cornering a black market and trying to have someone killed. The latter would invite much more scrutiny and far too many opportunities to botch something and get snagged. 

With all of his things ready to go but one of his birds still missing, Karp briefly considers the possibility of leaving the bird behind. He still had two to do the job, after all, and it was always possible that the third bird had been captured, or shot, or otherwise injured. Just as he begins picking up the travel crates for his two remaining birds, however, his attention is captured by a series of squawks, screams, and shouts coming from just outside his tent. 

Less than a second after Karp turns his head to look at the entrance of his tent, his third bird - the Takkuri - flies in in a frenzied state, shedding feathers and squawking with panic as it hurries to its perch with a wad of cash in hand. Karp barely has time to process this development as the entrance to his tent whips open, now splitting to reveal a strange, pink-haired woman with a large pair of wings sprouting from her back. During the brief moment the tent's flaps are open, Karp takes note of the market's unofficial "enforcers" stumbling over each other, strange black clouds obscuring their faces. 

Mystia, panting and heaving, comes right up to Karp, getting right in his face and, given his short stature, naturally looking down upon him. 

You… You. Is this your bird? I think you should know, I just wasted a chunk of my life chasing this ugly-ass bird and having to shove aside some big men who thought they'd get a little too handsy with me. I'm not in the mood for playing games. I'll give you one chance. Give me my money back.

Karp looks over Mystia intently, studying her expression and her tone. As cranky and tired as she sounded, he didn't doubt her story. He looks back between her and his birds. The money in the Takkuri's talon certainly seemed to corroborate her tale, too. This was an unusual situation, sure. He had

never expected someone to have the tenacity and skillset needed to chase down one of his birds, but, here this woman was… this vaguely familiar woman. As deep as his roots were in Senka, in Olympia in general, he had eyes and ears all around, associates who would report to associates who would report to associates who would report to him on all of the happenings around the city. He had heard about some bird-woman pulling con jobs in the area, and he didn't much appreciate that. Some upstart was trying to muscle in on his territory, trying to fleece the fleecers who he fleeced himself and draining their pockets before they could get to him. She apparently sang some kind of song, and next thing her targets knew, they were handing their money away willingly. She was no good, not for his business. Perhaps this feisty upstart needed a lesson from someone who had real experience in the business… Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, Karp quickly gets to work putting on a friendly, cooperative act, even sprinkling in faux-Spanish to make himself seem more endearing. 

Que? Hey, mi amiga, relax! There's no need for you to get all worked up over this. What you say? Mi, mi, aaah, bird, yes? You say that my bird took your money? Ah, no, no! Mi amiga, it's all a misunderstanding, sí? It's nothing like you think. These birds? They aren't even mine. They're just goods, yeah? I'm keeping them here until I can get the right price for them. But sometimes, the birds, they fly off, do their own thing. Ay, it's such a pain! How great it'll be to rid myself of them. But until then, I have to put up with them doing things like this. But here, your dinero? We can get that back to you, right now. 

Karp retrieves the cash from the bird, and, making a big display of returning it, hands it over to Mystia. For her part, she doesn't look too happy to get the cash back, but she strikes a friendlier tone than she had initially. 

I'm glad you're so cooperative. But, hmm… You know, you're a merchant too, right? You know what they say about time and money, don't you? You of all people should know how true that old saying is. This took a lot of time out of my day. You wouldn't want to compensate me for my time and energy getting this back from your dumb bird, would you? 

As Mystia puts on her charms and a sweet smile, Karp only shakes his head sadly. 

Ah, mi amiga. I wish I could help, But we can't all be as rich as you. I'm barely scraping by here, you know? I don't have any cash to spare. But… I might have something for you. You're not just mi amiga, sí? You're a merchant, too. That makes you a sister of mine. For you? For mi hermana? I think I have a special deal. Hold on just a moment, okay?

As Karp digs into one of the cardboard boxes scattered around, Mystia leans forward, clearly intrigued by the promise of an exclusive offer. She tries to steal a peek at his wares, but sees little before he pulls out what it is he's looking for. He holds up, proudly, what appears to be a golden egg in an incubation case, as Mystia looks on, curious but wary. 

See, mi hermana, this egg, it's special, the rarest of eggs in all of Olympia. This egg, you see, it contains an amazing golden fish. Now, the fish isn't real gold, but, and, listen closely, because I only tell you this, mi hermana, you can sell its scales for big money. You hear me? It's the big dinero. But that's not all. This fish, it breeds faster than a rabbit, and it gives its color to all of its kids.. You see, sister? You take this one fish, breed it with any other fish you can buy off the street, and you sit on a gold mine. You let it make two golden fish babies, then let them make four babies, then eight, then sixteen, and soon, you swim in scales. You can be in the deep end of the piscina, so long as you keep the fish to yourself. Now, this is my rarest offer, mi hermana. I would only offer it to someone as special as you. And, for you? For your trouble? I'll make it… we'll say, seven hundred? 

At first, Mystia's eyes widen. As Karp goes further and further into his explanation, though, a frown creeps across her face and her eyes narrow. As he wraps up his sales pitch, she doesn't even give him the courtesy of looking directly at him. Instead, she raises one of her hands, idly rubbing her claws together as she inspects them, ensuring not only that her boredom came across clearly, but that Karp could clearly see her claws for all they were. 

Do you think I was born yesterday? Do you really think I'd fall for something so stupid? Really? I don't know about you, old man, but I like to cut to the chase. And here, it's pretty clear why you're telling me a whopper. If this egg of your's could really make a person rich, you'd be running an aquarium by now. You'd be the biggest idiot out there not to take it and raise the fish yourself, so how do you expect me to buy that you'd just sell me something like that? Come on, old man. Let's slice through the bull. I'm almost done wasting my time here, but if you don't want me to leave with that bird, you'll give me a real offer, right now. 

Oh, oh, mi hermana bonita es muy inteligente, too. Okay, I tell you what, mi hermana. You caught me. I pulled at your leg. I had to test you, though, you see? I can't just work with anyone who wanders in here. I have a reputation here. Sí? Sí. Okay, mi hermana. I'll offer you this, instead. 

As he bends down to once again rummage through his boxes, Karp, his face hidden from Mystia's gaze for but a brief moment, contemplates a possibility. This upstart was smarter and craftier than she seemed. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could get some use out of her… After all, he couldn't go after Myuri himself, and even the most skilled of hitmen ran the risk of attracting attention from the law. After all the cops weren't dumb. They more than likely had some suspicions about Olympia's most vile criminals. But some minor conwoman? Who would miss her if, after she brought the Myuri girl to him, she had an accident and disappeared? If anyone even noticed her absence, they could easily presume she just packed up and left Olympia, probably to avoid an encounter with the law herself. In the best case, they'd fail to even look for her, just happy to have a scammer like her out of the city. Sure, it'd be hard to kill Myuri, but if he had this bird woman bring the innocent young girl to him and then killed her to rid himself of anyone else who knew about the entire ordeal...

Pulling out a green-and-black polished gemstone and showing it off to his customer, Karp looks up at Mystia with a friendly smile on his face. Without missing a beat, he launches into a series of lies.

Ah, here we are. A gemstone so pretty for mi hermana bonita. You know, mi hermana? I don't know what it is. I don't know why this gemstone is calling out to me. This gem, they say she has immense magical powers. But not just anyone can use it. No, no. Mi hermana, this gemstone can only be used by someone special, una cantante especial. They say only one with a cursed song can access the power in this gem. 

Mystia, Karp notes happily, drops her claw and leans in to inspect the gemstone, clearly intrigued. For her part, she tries to disguise her interest, but has trouble not revealing her hand. This man couldn't have possibly known about her song, could he have? If he didn't know that she had a cursed song, but he was telling her about this gemstone… could he be speaking honestly?

I'm listening. I guess I could maybe take it, for the right price. I think I'm owed a discount for all my trouble today, don't you?

Ah, ah, mi hermana! Of course you do! But I have… it's unfortunate, but this gem, it's so one of a kind. I have no price on it. I can't part with it for mere cash. But, ay, ay, mi hermana. It's calling to me. It's crying out to leave with you. Ay, what a dilemma… 

...but, I might have an idea. Would you be interested in exchanging this gem for a favor?

Mystia crosses her arms, almost wanting to groan. She had already wasted enough time with this man. But the gem did seem worth getting…

Depends on the favor. What do you have in mind?

Well, mi hermana… I'm having a, how to say it… a problem, a gran problema. You see, I have this debtor, and she's been too slippery for me. Ay ay, is she ever the slippery weasel. I'm just no match for her. This Myuri Kraft, she's just too much for me to handle. But you… You, mi hermana inteligente, I bet you could outdo her. With your brains, I'm sure you could get her here to me, so that I can… collect on my debts. I tell you mi hermana, I'd be grateful to you. If you could get this Myuri to me, I would gladly give you this gemstone, and five grand in cash for your trouble. Does the dinero make it sound better?

Hmm… You say all I have to do is bring some girl to you? Tell you what, the five grand does sound nice, but I think I'd need a little more than that. I think I'd need at least seven grand, for all the extra trouble… 

Mi hermana, for you? For you, I could gift you seven grand. The debts this woman owes me, they are massive. I tell you, you drive a hard bargain, but mi hermana deserves it. I will give you the gemstone, seven grand, and tres more. A flat ten grand for you, if you bring this girl to me. I promise you it will be easy, so fácil. This girl, she couldn't stick out more in a crowd. She has the ears and tail of a wolf, some kind of demon to be sure, with a silver color like the bullet she should be killed with en el nombre de dios. Now, she is slippery, but, for you, mi hermana, I think I have a good lead. She's been hanging around the Kobbers. You know them? Sí. Of course you do. You've heard the name. I think she's wanting to contract them, or something. I bet, I almost guarantee, mi amiga, that if you hang with them, you'll find her. 

Mystia nods attentively. She had heard the name. The Kobbers… that's a group she hadn't given much thought to. She'd heard about them here and there, but they worked far too hard for her tastes. They were too loose a group, too. She couldn't exactly work her way up their ranks. They weren't exactly city conquerors, though... But, then… They were an eclectic bunch with some high profile members among their ranks. Surely some of them had connections that she could exploit. If she could endear herself to them, kill two rats with one stone by making inroads with them while getting this Myuri girl to this old man, she could be well on her way to a life of respect and ease. 

Her mind already running with dreams of a cushy life, Mystia sticks her hand out to Karp with no hesitation, ready to shake - taking care to avoid slashing him with her claws - on their new deal. Karp, a sinister chuckle running through his internal monologue, reciprocates wearing nothing more than a simple, friendly smile on his face. 

Well, old man, you drive a hard bargain yourself, but I think we have a deal. I'll find your debtor girl, and I'll figure out a way to get her to you. But, if it takes more effort than I expect, and if you're really going to get that much out of this girl, we might just have to have some flexibility in that ten grand. Deal?

We have a deal, mi hermana.

And with Mystia and Karp both thinking the other was nothing more than a pawn in their own plans, the night sparrow and the black market king strike their suitably dark bargain, each concealing their excitement at the prospect of wringing the other dry and getting one over on one another.