Multiple Settings Sonder Links, an Anomalous Noir

[Probably George]

​

---

A searing pain kept pulsing through Bask's abdomen. He pressed against the wound to slow the bleeding, to little avail. For a moment he was lost in the warmth of his blood pouring from him. As he focused on it, Notti's voice was lost on him. Rather, he heard two footsteps from the end of the hall. There he saw a man draped in a dark trench coat and hat with a large brim. Bask raised his hand and pointed towards the strange figure, "He's here..." he mumbled, unsure why he said it or what it meant. At the same time Bask's pain began to wane. If the others were to look they wouldn't see the figure.

"Gray," Vasoine turned to the man as the glass spikes on his hand grew "Get in one of the other rooms, watch her window in case she makes a run." His attention turned to Notti "And you know what to do. She will come out." Vasoine took a deep breath before shoving his glass covered hand through the hole in the door. The spikes shot out from his hand and spread across the room. There was not one, but two voices that yelled in pain. Dawn's and an unknown man's.

Vasoine quickly retracted his hand and mumbled to himself "There's someone else?" He looked between Bask and Notti "Did either of y'all know about the other person?" That was when he noticed how pale Bask had gotten, seemingly out of it. "Shit-- Notti, watch the door!" Vasoine kneeled down at bask and place his hand over the wound, covering it with glass. "Don't die old man." He lighlty slapped at Bask's face "Hey, stay awake."

With Vasoine's back towards the door, Dawn took the opportunity and leapt out, covered in spikes like the victim of an porcupine attack. Knife in hand, she went for Vasoine but was in the perfect spot for Notti's sneak attack. On the other side of the room the other individual in a blue poncho and hood was escaping through the window. Moving past the window he crawled along the outer wall on his hands and bare feet like a lizard and went for the roof.

---

As Theresa's shadow struck at the man he backed up just enough to avoid being completely taken out, but he still took a concerning cut, leading him to hold at his throat to keep it from bleeding too much. He took a quick shot at the shadow as he continued stepping back and out of the shop. He took an engima engine out from his pocket, speaking into it. "I'm hit, get over here" struggling to get the words out.

Hawkshaw slowly opened his eyes, immense pain striking his shoulder from the shot and his head from slamming into the counter. He looked at Adriana with blurred vision. "I'm a little fucked up here. I can move my arm-" Summoning a blade, he held it in front of Adriana "Don't let Theresa fight this alone. Hold this between your fingers and go for the neck. Don't worry about me just yet." Hawkshaw lightly laughed. "I'm down but I'm not out, I just need a minute..."

 

[Ayama]

Adriana Nur Myalaym

The Evolving Exterminator

In the street, fighting for her life

Adriana stared, wide-eyed, as Teresa pulled a gigantic kitchen knife from her cloak and dropped it to the floor. Had she been carrying that with her the whole time? In a move Adriana never would've thought of, she covered their assailant in a cloud of chili pepper as her shadow somehow came to life, picking up the knife and heading straight for him.

Adriana screamed when the shadow slashed at the man's throat and a crimson jet of blood gushed out. Even though at the back of her mind she was aware that dealing with dangerous Anchors often required lethal force and this was what was expected of them, she couldn't believe what Teresa had just done.

The horned man had backed away from her teammate, clutching at his throat to stem the flow of blood. She watched him step backwards all the way out of the shop and into the street and, much to her horror, apparently call for backup. Her immediate thought was for the safety of herself and her teammates- assignment be damned.

We need to get out of here now, before any reinforcements show up! she thought in a blind panic.

Hawkshaw's voice cut through the panicked haze in her brain, sounding weak and a little woozy. She automatically took the knife he handed her, wondering if she would have the strength to use it- the idea of stabbing someone was absolutely abhorrent to her.

On the other hand, if she didn't do something, the horned man and whoever they were working with would surely finish the job.

Making up her mind to at least do what she could, she reached inside her coat and grabbed the short club strapped to her utility belt. With the club in one hand and Hawkshaw's knife in the other, she ran out into the street after the injured man.

Knowing she would have to time this just right if she wanted to survive whatever craziness she was intending, she dodged and wove as he sent out a couple low blasts of energy, sliding in at the last minute to knock his feet out from under him.

He went down like a house of cards but, unfortunately, she mistimed the slide, and the knock-out blow she'd aimed for the back of his head hit him in the back instead- painful, to be sure, but unlikely to put him out of commission.

Glancing back at her teammates inside the noodle shop, she called helplessly "I missed- we need to knock him out!", trying to scramble to her feet before she became the horned man's primary target of attack.

Code by Serobliss

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Theresa Cantor
Location: Dango's bar

The doppelganger took the hit, a hole punctured throuh its body and the shadow quickly dissipated into thin air and the knife it was holding fell onto the floor. At the same time Theresa regained her shadow, although there's a visible hole in its chest that made her shadow looks unnatural. Fortunately the shadow gradually patched itself up so she should be able to use it again soon.

Looking at the fleeing assailant, theresa let out a relieved sigh that unfortunately didn't last long when she watched Adriana chased after him. She reminded herself this was actually part of her job now. Biting her lower lip, Theresa followed her colleague chasing after the man. Adriana managed to connect another attack with the man, this time on his back. The image of Hawkshaw getting his flesh burned was still fresh in her mind and she didn't want the same thing to happen to Adriana.

Kill him.

With a quick motion, Theresa pulled a rubber string that she had been using as belt and unfolded it, revealing its true form as a sturdy homemade sling. Theresa was no fighter, but if there's any weapon that she's proficient with, it would be this. She had been using it to scare off coyotes and even cracked some boar's skulls before, back when her life was still normal, back when money wasn't the most important things in her life... H-how things ended up like this again??

Picking up a rock from the side of the road, she mounted the rock inside the pocket and gave the sling some spins. At first she was hesitant and she could feel her hand shaking, but the adrenaline rushing inside her vein, the subtle encouragement from Shadow and the thought of having to see the people she knew got hurt made each spin more and more stable. After a good dozen or so spin she whipped her hand and launched the rock forward with incredible accuracy. Once again she was aiming at the man's head.

Probably George Ayama

 

[BittyBobcat]

Luca Graymin
Location: Outer wall of Townsend's Building | Interactions: No one really, the blue poncho guy if you wanna stretch it ( Probably George )

"He's here."

"Gray get in one of the other rooms, watch her window in case she makes a run."

Great. Perfect. What a terrific combination of sentences. Just get in there with the known murderer and her apparent accomplice, what could go wrong? After all, he was an anchor, right? Surely his anomaly wasn't as combatively useless as turning into a goddamn cat.

He glanced at Bask. A dark stain was beginning to form on his shirt.

Fine. Fuck. Damn it.

Shifting was as quick an affair as it always was. In a blink—maybe even less than that—he had his knife stowed in his pocket and four paws back on the ground. Briefly, he worried that he was going to be stuck as ten-pounds of kickable cat once he inevitably ran into Townsend or her associate, but he stuffed that thought onto the ever-expanding list of things to be dealt with once his continued survival was less dubious. For now, it provided him with a modicum of safety (even if that safety was granted by being the lowest threat in the room).

He skittered toward the nearest ground-floor window and hopped onto the sill to catch a look inside, dimly hoping that it still lead toward the very room Townsend stood in so he'd have an excuse to delay his entrance. (It didn't.)

His claws slid out on their own accord.

Reluctantly, he leapt inside.

Gray landed softly on a mothbitten mattress that perhaps once could've been called a bed, but was now fit only for dozing roaches. It greeted him with a cloud of mildewy dust and debris that prompted a sneeze rather ill-fit for the dire situation.

His ears pricked, nervously listening for the footsteps of any he might've alerted. Near silence. The sound of panicked breathing, though it was impossible to tell whose. Then a series of thuds and a pair of yells. Someone must've been taking the offensive; he didn't much want to find out who.

But he had a job to do. A deadly, stupid job, but a job nonetheless (and one he couldn't afford to fail at).

Between the now muffled shouting and the glass spikes sticking out of the wall, the entry room wasn't hard to find. Traversing it, however, provided a different challenge.

Gray contented himself with surverying from the doorway, outside of the range of glittering shards coating the floor. He peeked around the frame just in time to watch Townsend dash outside and fall into Notti's trap (one more problem off his list). His foot moved without any input of his own, about to lead him to help secure the anchor, when he realized right. Paws. Not much help, were they?

He was so caught up with the scene on the doorstep that he scarcely noticed the movement on the other side of the room. A flash of blue out the window.

"often wearing blue/orange ponchos"

Shit, there weren't two of her, were there?

He sent one last glance toward the rest of the team—tail lashing nervously as he realized that they were far too preoccupied with Townsend to notice the escapee—before he dashed across the glass-strewn room. A dozen stings shot through his paws. He was trailed by spots of red all the way to the window.

By the time he got outside, Blue was already scaling the wall like some kind of deranged lizard. Gray resisted the urge to growl.

It took longer to decide if this whole thing was worth it than it did to plan a path upward (the window sills, though rickety, were numerous enough that they would make for an acceptable ladder), but—once his desire not to find out what happened to failed Executionors won out—he took to it with a speed that matched his wall-clinging counterpart. After all, did he really need to worry about falling? Cats always landed on their feet... right?

 

[Probably George]

The assailant aimed another shot at Adriana as she went straight for him. Her timing was well placed, just dodging the laser as she transitioned into a slide that swept at his feet and brought him down. Before there was time to react, he was struck in the back with the breath knocked out of him. Reacting now fearfully, he took a blind shot behind him and just grazed Adriana's temple. Before he was to cause any more damage, a stone tossed by Theresa nailed him in the temple, knocking him out cold.

Having taken his time to catch his breath, Hawkshaw finally pulled himself up and peered out at the result of the fight. He stumbled over to the stranger. Glancing at his left he attempted to move his arm with little success. Disgruntled, Hawkshaw grabbed at his wounded arm and stuffed it into one of the layers of clothing as a temporary sling. Not wanting to take any chances, Hawkshaw felt it necessary to take drastic action. The blade given to Adriana phased through her without any harm and positioned itself firmly in Hawkshaw's hand. He stepped on the man's hand, covering each finger except the his index, where he'd been firing the beams. Hawkshaw kneeled down and brought the blade up-- hesitation settled in. Grimace warped his face. He bit hard on his lip before delivering the blade swiftly like a guillotine on the man's finger, then breathed out with a mix between a cough and a gag.

The blade had vanished and Hawkshaw stood himself back up. "Tie his hands behind his back." He spoke softly, stepping off the attacker and removed a thin rope Hawkshaw had around his torso. Using Vasoine's circle of glass, he called for his senior. "Hey- we had an incident, need you back here asap." The others were fine, at least from Hawkshaw could see, so he took time to survey his surroundings. Some citizens had caught eye of the fight and were talking amongst one another about the spectacle. What really caught Hawkshaw's eye was an individual draped in tan, standing on top of the building on the other end of the alley, peering down at them. Enigma engine in hand, the figure brought it to their face. Too far to hear, but Hawkshaw was unnerved nonetheless. Before he could mention the figure to the others, the sound of bones scraping came screeching from the horned man. The spiral horns began corkscrewing into his head, causing it to explode. Hawkshaw had turned back to the man just in time to get sprayed in the face with blood. Coughing up some of what went in his mouth, Hawkshaw quickly started gasping. Panicked, he turned back to the figure, only for them to be gone.

With a cloud of glass blooming, Vasoine made his way back. He took sight of the incident and grabbed tensely at his face with a deep groan. "Agh-- this is really fucking bad... Leave the body, let's go gather the others back at Townsend's home. Bask is down, so double-time it." He began to jog off. Without question, Hawkshaw followed along.

Spoiler: Figure in tan

---

Just as Vasoine planned, the fish took the bait. The spikes shot into the room were meant to just anger Townsend into making a rash decision, that which he would set up by faking his diversion of attention. Now she was right in line to get tackled down by Notti. The two tumbled a bit before Notti managed to get Townsend's arms into the back of Notti's jacket as she pulled tight and pressed her knee against Townsend's back.

Patting the unconscious Bask on the shoulder, Vasoine gave a quiet "Good job shakes" and caught up to Notti and Townsend. "Alright let's get her hands behind her back." He pulled v shaped tube. "Get her hands in this-" Careful to keep one arm still while working the other, they managed to get Townsend's hands bound. "Twist this part at the top and they lock in." Vasoine scoffed in relief. "I'll introduce you to the guy I got these from, sometime later. I can tell you've taken down people before!"

Gray managed to keep tail on the man in blue and eventually met him on the roof. The man was aware he was being chased, so he stopped for a moment. With back turned to Gray he brought up an enigma engine and spoke into it. "Townsend is lost."

Almost immediately after, the horns on Townsend's head began corkscrewing into her skull. Vasoine was quick to react, grabbing Notti and jumping to the side with her. It was then that Vasoine heard Hawkshaw calling through one of the glasses. He got up and pressed his hand against his chest as he caught his breath. "What the hell?!" He turned to Notti, "Okay so- umm... Stay here, watch Bask." Vasoine stepped over Townsend's body and peaked inside her hideout. "I don't know where Gray or the mysterious person went, so-" He turned back to her. "Yea, watch Bask. I'll be back." Then Vasoine went into another piece of glass and vanished in the plume of glass.

The man in blue turned to see Gray staring him down at the edge of the roof. "I know you can't do shit, Gray" he scoffed. A small ball of water formed in his hand before he rubbed it on his mask. Inlays on the mask started glowing a bright white and steam formed as fireflies slowly began coming out from the holes on the cheeks of his mask. Many dozens of fireflies were spreading out across the roof top. Emanating not just light, but heat from the burning plasma where their abdomens would be. Bright and shimmering enough to see clearly in the daylight.

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Theresa Cantor
Location:

S-she did it, she hit him on the head! The feeling of relieves gushed into Theresa's mind the moment she watch the horned man fell unconscious. Suddenly she could felts her entire body trembling as her adrenaline gradually slow down.

Keep your guard up. It's not finished yet.

Theresa took Shadow's warning. She's right. It's not over yet. Hawksaw seemed to have recovered and took the initiative to bind their assailant. Though as she watched it proceed she noticed the horn moved as if it was a screw being forcefully twisted into a wooden plank. Then his head exploded. Theresa was pretty far from him so none of the splatter reach her but that also made her see the entire scene and involuntarily recorded it into her memory.

Vasoine appeared next to Hawksaw and said something about gathering on Townsend's home, but Theresa didn't hear that. Her full attention was grabbed by the ugly sight of the exploded man in front of her. Back when her life was still normal, her father used to show her how to respectfully slaughter their livestocks. This, this was way beyond what was acceptable...

Take a breath! and don't linger for too long. We might be sitting duck here.

Theresa finally snapped back to reality and nodded at Shadow's suggestion. Taking a deep breath, she then forced her shaking body to move and follow the others back to Townsend's home.

Probably George Ayama

 

[BittyBobcat]

Luca Graymin
Location: Roof of Townsend's Building | Interactions: Blue ( Probably George )

The roof had already begun to heat with the rising sun. Not enough to burn with a brief touch—that honor, Gray was sure, lay under the noon's jurisdiction—but to a temperature just before that point, one that sunk into the flesh of his already sore paws with a creeping malice that forced him to step here and back every so often to avoid harming his feet further.

Still, even with this excuse to move, he kept his distance from Blue. No sense in getting within arms' distance when the most damage he could do was a nip, after all.

His ears perked at the mention of Townsend's name, something he immediately came to regret when they were assaulted by an ugly screech like misshapen wooden gears crying out before they splintered. On instinct, he crouched until his belly was hovering close enough to the rooftop that he could feel the heat wafting off it.

The splatter was what really raised his hackles. He could smell the iron in it.

"I know you can't do shit, Gray"

He found himself oddly glad that his fur was already standing on end. It stopped him from betraying the jolt that sent down his spine.

"How perceptive of you," Gray deadpanned, his nervous energy finding its way out through his lashing tail. "What's your next trick? Divining the color of the sky?"

If only it were.

It was the heat that first tipped Gray off to the fact that there was something wrong with the fireflies (well, other than that they were apparently anomalous based on the way they swarmed from the anchor's mask). Sure, the roof was hot, but this? This felt like standing next to an arc welder. With a few more minutes, he wouldn't be surprised if he started smelling like the product of a particularly inept chef's first encounter with a grill.

Uninterested in providing validity toward any statements made regarding his curiosity and what it did, he took a reluctant step back. The ground—concerningly distant given that he could feel the roof's edge on the back of his paw—loomed out of the corner of his eye, forcing him to readjust his position lest he risk falling. His legs bunched beneath him, ready to leap toward the building behind him should the need arise.

Until then, there wasn't much else to do but stall.

"Are we really important enough to warrant personal investigation or are my associates just too loud?" Gray hazarded, far too occupied with flicking his gaze between each firefly and their creator to properly listen for a reply.

 

[Ayama]

Adriana Nur Myalaym

The Evolving Exterminator

IN THE STREET, JOGGING AFTER HER TEAM

As Adriana was still scrambling to get back to her feet, she felt a sudden, searing heat on the left side of her head, and something warm trickling down her face. Her vision blurred for a moment before she was able to fully back away and focus on the action again.

Teresa's shadow had dropped the knife and rejoined her teammate's body, though it looked a little ragged at the edges. This didn't seem to be a problem, however, as Teresa quickly whipped out a homemade slingshot and aimed a stone with incredible accuracy directly at their assailant's head and knocked him out cold.

Adriana let out a breath of relief as Hawkshaw stumbled out of the restaurant and made his injured arm a temporary sling. When he took back his blade and stepped closer to the unconscious man, Adriana made an involuntary gesture as if to stop him from doing the man harm, but it was too late- he'd already sliced off the index finger.

Too shocked to give her feelings voice, she watched him tie the man up and then call Vasoine back. She was aware they'd made a hell of a spectacle but, at that moment, she didn't quite care. Hawkshaw's attention seemed to be captured by something a certain distance behind her but, before she could turn around or ask what it was, the sound of bone scraping on bone brought all of their attention back to the man on the ground.

Adriana had the sense to cover her face with her cloak, but Hawkshaw wasn't so lucky and received a mouthful of blood. Just as he was coughing it up and looking back to that spot behind her, Vasoine appeared in their midst.

When he said to just leave the body, Adriana leveled an accusing glare at him and the callous tone he'd used, but was forced to follow the rest of the group as they began to jog away. Though she'd heard what he'd said about Bask being down, she could barely process it in the face of what they'd just witnessed.

Her desire to know what Hawkshaw had been looking at when the man's head exploded won out over her reproach at his earlier treatment, so she had to ask "What were you looking at, Hawkshaw?", adding inside her mind And why did you cut off that man's finger when he was already unconscious? Tying his hand into a closed fist would've done the job.

Code by Serobliss

 

[Probably George]

The group weaved between the tapestry of people crowding the streets. Vasoine kept checking over his shoulder to make sure the others were catching up. The job had gone from a normal day for an Exterminator into a very volatile situation and now Vasoine was worried about his trainees, especially Bask. His mind wasn't occupied by the bureaucratic beating he'd receive if Bask died, but by Bask's well being.

Even though he'd just met Bask, he was still concerned for him. There was a quote Vasoine heard from another Exterminator: "The damned only have eachother for company. So as a damned man, be kind to your fellow. He may end up your only friend." Vasoine, like most other Exterminators, held this idea to heart.

The thought loop in Vasoine's head regarding Bask was interrupted when he remembered he's got a job to do. Vasoine grabbed his enigma engine and yell into it between breaths. "Central, this is Heliopause-- Target is dead! At least two other individuals involved, need police at Gweedo's restaurant in Burmin sector and medical at Dawn Townsend's residence in Whaum sector! Exterminator down!" To which he got a confirmation reply from the other end. Looking back over his shoulder again, Vasoine assured the others that they were almost there.

"Someone-" Hawkshaw replied to Adrianna "someone was watching us from a rooftop, then they vanished!" He was completely thrown for a loop, so rather than try to rationalize or further determine what he saw, Hawkshaw just gave it outright. Largely because he was far too preoccupied with running and scanning rooftops to see if they were being followed. They eventually made it to Townsend's building without incident and proceeded their way through as they looked for the room.

At first sight Vasoine ran for the slumped over Bask and checked his pulse. With a sigh of relief he turned to the others and informed them Bask was still alive but was still in a bad condition. "I covered the wound-- but he's still got internal bleeding. Luckily it's not a terrible spot, it'll take hours for him to bleed out. Old man's probably just out 'cuz he hit his head." He laughed, attempting to ease the situation a bit despite there being a headless corpse behind him.

"Hold on-" Vasoine looked around then asked Notti if she'd seen Gray come back. Given an unsatisfactory answer, Vasoine rushed into Townsend's apartment and checked the window. Gray wasn't in sight down below, but there was an odd wetness to the window sill that he noticed. At the end of the spot was what appeared to be toe prints. Checking the side of the building outside the window Vasoine saw it more clearly, wet foot and hand prints. And they lead to the roof. As soon as the connection clicked, Vasoine ran back out into the hall. "Hawkshaw, stay here. Everyone else, with me now!" Then he ran down the hall. The layout of these buildings are mostly similar, so Vasoine was confident he knew where the stairs were.

The man in blue was a bit put off by Gray's sassiness. But nevertheless he decided to give gray a hint. "Have you heard of the quokka? A rodent seen rarely in south Grohj. They carry their children in a pouch on their stomach. That pouch is all the child knows until it is old enough to leave the pouch. The child feels safe within its confines. It is sure its mother loves it. But if the mother is being chased by a predator, she will open the pouch and drop the child, letting it be killed and consumed by the predator so that she may survive. A heartless animal. When thylacores from Two Feathers' managed to reach Grohj, the population of quokka began rapidly dropping. Because they were unable to adapt. They attempted old tricks with new variables. Now they're only known to exist near a certain cave. But eventually, a thylacore will find that cave."

A drawn out silence followed him up. Then suddenly his hands began dripping. The drips gathered speed, eventually forming streams of water culminating from his fingertips.
"We are planting a seed of doubt. From that seed will bloom a violent, beautiful tree. We will take shade under that tree, and feast on its fruit." Fireflies migrated to the water, quickly causing it to steam up.

Vasoine bursted through the door leading to the roof just in time to catch a glimpse of the masked man. When he did, the man turned to him and Vasoine stumbled back a bit. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he could utter a measly "Fuck-" with short breath.

The vapors completely encased the stranger, though his silhouette could still be made out. He pulled someout some sort of container and poured the contents in front of him. From the collected contents on the ground quickly emerged another figure. The two embraced and a strong gust of wind came by, blowing the smoke and what appeared to be sand particles. All that remained where the man stood was a mixed pile of sand and water. The rest of the fireflies immediately extinguished.

Vasoine directed his attention to Gray, yelling out "Get the hell inside, now!" Then turned to the others. "Let's Bask ready to go, we're leaving. SEPD can do the clean up." Then they all met back up with Hawkshaw and Bask. Hawkshaw was sitting across from Bask, staring at where Bask was stabbed. "C'mon bud, we're going." Vasoine approached him. Receiving no response, he knelt down and shook Hawkshaw a bit. "Wake up!" Hawkshaw's trance was broken and he jumped. "Sorry I-" his gaze darted between Vasoine and Bask's wound. "I'm taking it in..." Then he stood up.

Vasoine and Notti carried Bask by the arms and they all went out the building. Making their way through the streets again they eventually found themselves at a clinic. Approaching the front Vasoine let the others know they should go back to Internal Affairs to give their statements and then they'd be dismissed for the day.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Luca Graymin
Location: Internal Affairs Building --> His Home | Interactions: None yet

He was still picking glass out of his hands when he finally got released. With the blood and dirt coating his fingers, just finding the pains in his ass (or hand, as it were) was a chore in of itself. Actually removing them was nigh impossible at best, but that didn't stop him from trying.

He prodded at a particularly stubborn shard as he made his way out. The edge glittered every time he passed a light, taunting him at that infuriating distance that was just long enough to be pinched at, but not quite enough to provide adequate leverage for pulling it out. He was almost there though. Almost. If he could just manage to lever it out a bit more on that side...

His thumb slipped and the shard plunged neatly into the skin underneath his fingernail.

If the resulting swear earned him the glare of a nearby woman who promptly turned to her associate and muttered something about how they let anyone into the Office these days, then the Department only had themselves to blame for dragging all their Exterminators into the same building as the aristocrats. Besides, shouldn't she be used to this sort of thing? Injury was in the job description, it would come as a surprise if they didn't have someone mopping blood off the tile at least once a week.

He forced his gaze away from the ground. Better to keep that mental image from taking shape.

The doorman was still standing dutifully at his post when he reached the exit, looking more or less the same as he did before minus the pawprints on his otherwise pristine uniform. Gray offered him a curt nod as he left, but he was too busy scanning the plaza outside to notice.

He would've worried about the crowd milling about outside if it weren't for the fact that it parted around him like he was a rock in a stream (or, if the dirty looks being cast his direction were anything to go by, a shark among minnows). Given the energy, it might've made him consider shoving his hands in his pockets to hide their still-dribbling trails of blood, but he found himself too appreciative of the extra space to do so. Besides—coating of dust aside—this was a nice outfit (as nice as his outfits got, anyway). It would be a shame to add another stain to it.

The crowd closed in as he approached the capital's edge. By the time he hit the markets, he was feeling less like a shark and more like a sardine. It was impossible to walk two feet without getting jabbed by a stray elbow or shoved by an impatient shoulder and, as grateful as he was to be navigating it at eye-level this time around, the constant shouting in his ears was beginning to grate, not to mention the sun-drenched stench of sweat burning at his nose.

Still, he braved the masses long enough to grab a small bag of hard candies on his way home. He didn't exactly know what you were meant to do when your coworker got injured—visiting the clinic without an explicit reason seemed too personal for a man he had known for a grand total of two hours, one of which was spent with him unconscious—but he figured a gift couldn't hurt.

Its delivery, though, could wait.

When he swung open the rickety door of his home, he was greeted by an impatient yowl and the hollow sound of claws against cabinet handles.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I'm coming." He dropped the candies on the table and kicked his shoes off in favor of the house slippers sitting just inside the door, then turned the corner to face his resident parasite. "This whole starving act would be a lot more convincing if you didn't drop half-eaten mice on me every other morning, you know."

The grey and white tabby blinked silently back up at him from her place in front of the cabinet doors (which bore the scars of many such outbursts before) and, after a patient second's wait, resumed her screaming.

"Scuse me, Pest," he said, gently shoving her out of the way with his foot. In an instant, she was leaping up onto the counter to survey her meal's preparation, which was—as always—summarily provided on the very same counter (she refused to eat it anywhere else; Gray suspected that she enjoyed pawing the bowl off once she was finished).

With the cat sorted, he headed straight for his desk—a cramped bit of furniture on the best of days, now currently taken up by a hunk of machinery that he hadn't yet made heads or tails of (unfortunate considering that he was on a deadline). With a sigh, he plopped into the formerly-rolling now-stationary chair in front of it and, ignoring his stomach's offended growl, flipped through his journal until he hit an empty page. He could probably finish the preliminary sketches tonight, maybe crack open the frame if he got started now. It would be a rough week, but he could find something to report before their next visit. Probably.

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Theresa Cantor
Location: Cantor's residence

Theresa looked at herself on the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, there's bags under her eye and she even forgot to button the top of her shirt. After she completed all the reports of her first task as an exterminator she didn't feels like doing anything. She know she shouldn't, but her mind was swimming with a countless 'if' scenario that might happen during the job if hings went just a slight different and most of them were some gruesome imagination. Thankfully her little sister Martha was very thoughtful and took over a lot of chores that she would normally do, although it made Theresa guilty since her sister still has her work in the abattoir. She really should get back in her mind as soon as possible.

The sequence was wrong. Create the doppel first, then throw the weapon

Theresa watched in silence as a figure of pure darkness appeared behind her, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing through the mirror but when she peeked behind her there's nothing there.

The doppel has no skeletal structure, use it to your advantage

"Why are you telling me this, Shadow?" Theresa asked herself in the mirror.

I don't want to die, not yet

"I see. Thanks for the advice then. I will use it next time... probably." Exiting her cramped bathroom, she almost bumped into her 12 years old little brother. Based on how he looks at he right now, he probably overheard her conversation with the enigma. Theresa didn't want to involve them, but there's simply no way for her to lie to her siblings about her status as an anchor so she told them the gist of it. Martha and Jacob seemed to be understanding of her but her other brother Damian hadn't come home in 5 months so she didn't have any opportunity to tell him yet.

"Big sis! Dinner is ready. Let's go!" Jacob enthusiastly grabbed her hands and urged her into their main room, the largest room in their house where they put everything that didn't belong in the bathroom or bedroom there. A 15 years old girl was putting their meal on the rug, Martha was a bit of a quiet person so its normal for her to say nothing while she distributes the dinner.

"Turkey tail soup! Yum!" Jacob didn't spend much time before digging into his meal. Due to their needs to conserve money they rarely eat meat like this. The turkey tails were something Martha took from her workplace once every week. Apparently, the wealthy clients didn't like that part so the manager hands it out to the workers who were willing to do some overtime. Back when she still works as waitress she also occasionally bring some leftover foods home, she couldn't really do that anymore though. Hopefully her paycheck come soon.

Theresa decided to go into her bed. She intended to sleep early but an hour later she found herself still looking at the ceiling of their dilapidated apartment building. Still swimming in her negative thoughts. She worried that the building would collapse on them if a large disaster like earthquake occurs. She worried about Jacob's growth, he's much shorter than his peers and she knew he secretly spend his time in the junkyard looking for things to sell. She worried about Martha, she's a quiet girl but Theresa was aware that the girl harbored a lot of hatred to almost every people. She's worried about Damian... what was he thinking working for the same people who casted their family into this hell?!

Are you worried about yourself?

I don't care.

Then. Do you want more power??

 

[Ayama]

Adriana Nur Myalaym

The Evolving Exterminator

Internal Affairs debrief, then back home

Even over the press of the crowds and the noise of the streets, Adriana heard Vasoine shouting into his enigma engine about the target being dead and others being involved.

When he asked for medical and said the words 'Exterminator down', her stomach gave a sudden lurch, further agitated by Hawkshaw's response and his constant scanning of the rooftops as they ran.

He doesn't think they're following us now, does he? she thought, worried.

When they got to Townsend's home and Adriana saw the blood on the floor and Bask's prone body next to it, her breath caught in her throat, released only when Vasoine confirmed that he was still alive.

She went right back to not breathing when Vasoine came back and ordered them in a panic to follow him out, bursting through to the roof just in time to catch a glimpse of a mysterious masked figure in a blue cloak vanishing into thin air.

She was completely silent during the entire trip to the clinic, and then on the walk back to Internal Affairs.

She gave her report in a dull, robotic fashion, watched over by yet another faceless government employee charged with watching her every move and ensuring she made it back to the lab, too shaken up by the day's events to fully process them, as images of the fight, Bask's prone body, and Hawkshaw cutting off that finger kept replaying over and over in her mind.

God, that was a mess, she thought miserably, wondering if this was what her life would be like from now on.

*****​

Gods, what a shitshow, Asya thought as she examined the day's reports. First group mission for this team, and they had one member laid up at the clinic, everyone else injured in some manner, and Adriana hadn't even used her abilities once, which meant she had no new data to use.

When she gets back here, I'm going to remind her exactly how much money was spent to put her in this position, the scientist vowed, as usual not acting as if her sister's wellbeing was of any importance to her.

She re-read a few more elements from the mission report, not wanting to deal with the bigger problem just yet as she thought of her greater personal priorities.

Let's hope the rat has at least made some progress on his assignment, she thought, reaching for her enigma engine.

*****​

The familiar, unwelcome beeping of the communication device made itself heard among the jumble of objects and parts on Gray's desk.

He reluctantly reached for the object and pressed the button to put through the expected and unpleasant sound of his employer's voice.

"Graymin!" Asya barked, "have you figured out what it is yet?"

It took more effort than he liked to admit to keep himself from sighing. "No." He grit his teeth, hoping the sound didn't make its way through the receiver. "Considering that most from-scratch restoration projects take upwards of two months to complete even in less... distracted circumstances, I'd estimate that I won't 'figure it out' for a while."

His finger pressed against the tip of the pencil he picked up mere seconds ago on its own accord. It caught on one of the scratches that had only just scabbed over, reminding him of who he was speaking to with a sharp sting.

He took a breath and tried to smooth his tone into the clinical voice he used with most of his clients. "I'll be finished with the preliminary references by tonight. After that I can start examining its mechanisms, but this process will be no good to you unless I'm thorough." A droplet of blood formed beside his pencil lead. He absentmindedly pulled his hand away from the journal and flicked it off. "Documentation is the only way to ensure replicability, and noting every minute detail like that takes time. Working in a field like yours, I'm sure you're familiar with these types of necessary delays."

Asya took a deep breath and prayed for patience, customary frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I don't need a breakdown on the scientific method, Graymin. We have a deal: I keep the Knives off your back, and you get me results. Now you'd better have something for me I can use by the end of this week, or else I'll have to rethink our arrangement altogether!" And with that she slammed the enigma engine back down on her desk, effectively cutting the conversation short.

Goddamn Exterminators, she thought.

*****​

Adriana was already halfway through dinner when Asya stalked into the room, clearly too exasperated to bother with forced nicety.

"What happened out there today?" she demanded without preamble, the harshness in her tone making Adriana wince. "Why didn't you use your enigma?"

Adriana put down her fork and looked steadily at her plate.

"I don't know," she said. "You know it's not like I can control it." Asya's hand twitched, and she knew her sister was restraining a violent display with difficulty.

"But you have to try," she responded with as much patience as she could muster. "They are watching this- if they see no improvement or development they will shut us down- you understand that, don't you?"

Adriana's hands clenched in her lap.

"Yes, I understand. I will try harder next time."

"Good- we can't afford to fail."

You mean you can't afford to fail, Adriana thought with uncharacteristic resentment, wishing her sister could at least pretend to care about what she'd been through.

"You had a long day," Asya said in a softer voice. "You should go back to the lab and get some rest." Adriana nodded, pushing her chair back from the table.

"Try to be as detailed as possible in your journal entry tonight," she added as the Exterminator reached the front door. "Now that you're out in the field, we need as much data as possible."

The Anchor nodded again, glancing back at her sister before she swept out into the hallway followed by another nameless suit with black glasses and an earpiece, a single angry tear rolling down her cheek.

Code by Serobliss

 

[Probably George]

Orange sky now red, sunset at Slaughter Beach. The fall of the sun signaled to fishermen in the bay to wrap up the catch and move on to processing. They would go to crowd the streets as the what was called the "third quarter" began; the third influx of shopping that goes on throughout the markets, lasting about an hour until things slow down and then rise once again about 5 hours later. Sunrise, noon, sunset, and midnight marking each quarter. The phenomena came about organically, simply due to how shifts were set across the various businesses.
To some, sunset was their queue to start partying. The last two quarters were especially great for bars and hookah lounges. The stickiest of hash and the most intoxicating of alcohol passing through the population's system like water.

Of course there are those who tend to avoid such vices, Hawkshaw being one. His parents were very strict on the subject of intoxicants, saying there was no such thing as a successful drunk farmer (though that was very untrue.) Instead he would clear his mind in a comforting location and meditate. The center of Slaughter Beach's bay was a favorite of his. He would come right as the fishermen were departing so he could get a clearer view of the sight. He found it ever so beautiful and humbling. The orange sands surrounding crystalline blue water until it breached out the top and spread for what seemed like forever, until obscured by distance and allowed the red sun to fill in the rest. The view was much more welcoming to Hawkshaw, compared to his time in Two Feathers'. The mountains intimidated Hawkshaw as a boy, but the sea felt warming. On the same level as him, yet so far out. As the sun descended, the twilight of the sky crept in to take its place. In these few minutes, Hawkshaw was somewhere else. In that time he is not Hawkshaw, he is just another observer of the world.

With the last sliver of light gone Hawkshaw returns, his free soul weighed down once again but the burdens of life. But now those burdens seem a little bit lighter for the moment. Now was time to reflect, and what occupied his mind most was his injury. His arm had been put in a sling and expected to heal within the next day or two thanks to an anchor doctor employed at Internal Affairs. Bask had been transferred to said doctor and was now awaiting recovery at the small medical wing at the office for Internal Affairs. That too weighed heavily on Hawkshaw's mind. He hadn't bothered to ask anyone what happened to Bask, he didn't want to talk about the assignment at all. He kept reliving the moment where he severed the man's finger, only to then be covered in the man's brains. Not only was it shockingly uncharacteristic of him, but just generally traumatizing.

"You're going to be doing a lot more of that. Toughen up, birdy."
Hawkshaw dreaded conversation with her. Often quite mean and a harsh judge.
"Because you know I'm right~"
She often caused him to second guess himself. Hawkshaw usually hadn't been on to put a lot of thought into anything, he lived by impulse.
"And it was that impulse that killed a man."
"I didn't fucking kill him!" He snapped. Now breathing heavily and hands sweating, Hawkshaw caught his composure and took deep breaths.
"Heh~ As I've said birdy, you're holding back. You lack confidence."
"No I'm just-"
"Stop with that shit 'scared' shit. It's a cope. Everyone is scared."
"I just want to live peacefully."
"And how did that go for you parents?"

Hawkshaw didn't respond, just staring off into the distance as anger and sadness flooded his head. "What if I just killed us both."
"You won't."
She was right. The topic of the afterlife was a popular topic amongst philosophers recently, and while Hawkshaw hadn't given the idea much thought he did think of how he would prefer to live as if his parents were watching over him. Better safe than sorry. He begun thinking about it again at that moment. "Yeah..." He mumbled defeatedly.
"I will not die, understand? So start fighting back."
"I don't have much experience fighting. Besides I'm out ranged by everyone in my team, I imagine by almost every other anchor too."
"I can change that."
"How?"
"Just use the blade."

Without desire to continue talking with her, Hawkshaw kept quiet and continued staring off into the horizon. The others in his group came to mind. He wondered how they were holding up. How they were coping. Hawkshaw yearned for something to help him cope.

---

Endless white; void. A quiet, low pitch hum. Feeling, a finger twitch.
Bask was aware, though not conscious. He tightened his fingers into his palms then released them, assuring he could move. A look around offered nothing in sight, until a child-like figure came into view. The figure glowed a soft blue, the light emanating off it making it appear fuzzy. It was sitting with legs crossed with odd wooden figures around it.

Bask approached the figure and observed the small objects the being was handling.
"Your dad made these?"
"Yea, he was a carpenter and wanted to make kid's toys on the side. Used me for quality assurance."
"I like them! They're special. Otherwise they wouldn't be here."
"Where is here?" The figure dropped one of the toys and pointed up at Bask. He was taken aback for a moment. "Grales?"
"Yup!"
"So-... why are you here?"
"I live here."
"Right." saying to himself as if he understood. "Am I gonna be okay? And where are my hands?" Bask had looked down to notice he had no physical form here, but that suddenly changed as he looked up and blinked into a new space. A roughed up shack with farming equipment. As he looked around Bask gripped his hands, coming to the realization that they were back. But as he look at them he noticed there were small and pudgy. In fact the shack and everything inside seemed very large. Reaching for his face he felt not his beard, but smooth and chubby cheeks.

As he started putting pieces together, his puzzle got interrupted when the door shot open, nearly striking Bask. There he saw a hooded figure draped in a long coat. There were no features to it, until an eye opened. Then another, then another. Quickly the face was composed of eyes, the cloak was composed of eyes, countless eyes began opening in the background behind the figure. Bask's breathing became rapid as everything around him became eyes, all staring at him. There was no noise, yet a phrase was forced into Bask's mind;

A fallen tree becomes a bridge.
​

---

Haken sat at his desk at Internal Affairs, clutching a report in his hands. The eyes of a madman pierced the paper where it said "strange ornate masks." In a blink, Haken slammed down on his desk and slid his arms across, throwing everything onto the floor. "Sour-- you fucking parasite!" He grumbled between deep breaths. The anger was interrupted with a knock at the door. His curled back straightened as he glared at the door. "Mr. Milnuras?" came a meek woman's voice from the other side. The malice on his face shifted to a twisted grin. "Please, come in Warpae."

Warpae opened the door to see Haken sitting straight up at his desk, the room immaculate and tidy. "You came at a great time!" He said through the grin.
Warpae became flustered "R-really? Do you need something? I can do anything you need!"
"I know you can-" Haken chuckled. "If I had 5 more of you I wouldn't need any other exterminators. That's why I want you to rub some of that greatness off to Heliopause."
"Who?" Warpae asked.
"The new task-force. I have big plans for them, but there's... new variables. I'm not confident in them yet. I'm waiting on word about my proposal for an increased budget to get them properly equipped, but it won't mean a thing if they can't hold their own. Which case are you on at the moment?"
"A man has been appearing in people's dreams and they report having great misfortune afterwards."
"Perfect! They'll join you. Have the rest of Antumbra gather their intel and hand it off to Heliopause. They're relieved from the case until further notice."
Warpae would never question Haken, but she was hesitant to the idea. It seemed like it would needlessly slow down the case when Heliopause could just take on a new case. But she believed that Haken knew best. "Sounds great! I'll do my best!"
"The best of the best." He praised, to Warpae's coy delight. "I ought to expand the roster... Go get me the registry of tagged anchors." Without hesitation, Warpae got up and quickly left to fetch the files.

​

 

[Probably George]

---

With watered eyes and shivering hands
We were called into the dance
With memories so old, stories untold
We just fought for a chance
- Greenleaf "With Eyes Wide Open" Trails and Passes​

---

A watering pail hung from a pouring faucet facing outside a well kept sheet metal and sandstone hut on the edge of the shopping district. The rising sun reflecting off its polished surface. As it overflowed a man quickly stepped out and turned off the water, retrieving the pail and heading back inside. There he caringly poured water into the dozens of plants occupying the small space, being wary to not overwater any. His eyes focused intently on each. So lost in the act that he hadn't noticed an elderly woman wrapped in her own weight's worth of fabrics entering his shop. Her trembling hand reached for a bell that resonated with a soft, low pitched hum. The man's eyes widened as he snapped out of his little world and turned his attention to the customer.

"Hello Ms. Bjorsh" he spoke in a soft, gentle tone. "My, my~" the lady mumbled in awe as she gazed around. "Your garden has really bloomed; it's only been three weeks or so seen I've been here!" The man grinned, his cheeks making his eyes squint. "Hehe~ flattering as always." He replied. "But no, not much has changed. I've only added a couple more members to the flock." The lady's awe wouldn't falter, something was truly encapsulating her. "But it's... I- I can't say! It's just especially pleasant."

"That may be coming from my newest addition, something of my own creation-" He turned and grabbed a potted plant shelved right below the ceiling. Gently placing it on the counter, he softly palmed the leaves and petals as he showed off every aspect of the flower. It was truly one of a kind, a red hooked stem holding soft gold petals that formed into a bell with a red stigma flaring out beyond the petals and yellow strings hanging from the stigma. Every bit of surface on the plant was covered in glistening terpenes. "It took a lot of effort and creativity to make this; I call it Rehcap's bell." The lady's eyes were glued to the flower, her trembling hands desperate to touch it before the man gently pushed her hands away from it. "So that's going to be your legacy?" She inquired. Rehcap stopped for a moment to ponder it. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but yea I guess so. But I'm still studying the flower's properties, I believe it could be something amazing. Ever since it has bloomed, customers have been noting a 'soothing' change to the store. To be honest it fills me with pride. This may be the beginning of a new art, designer flowers." Just as she thought she couldn't be in further awe, Rehcap dropped a proposal; "I have but three seeds. And seeing as you've been such a kind and often customer, I'll give you one." He held the seed in his palm in front of her. "But!--" he quickly closed the hand as the lady was reaching for the seed. "Promise you won't tell anyone. If someone caught wind and stole it, one of my competitors could get hold of it and trample all over my progress. So please, keep this secret." With a firm nod from the lady, Rehcap opened his hand again and she received the seed. Mouth agape and breath audible, she troubled to utter a deep gratitude before shuffling off with anticipation and excitement.

Rehcap waved her off, his grin widening even further until his cheeks almost completely obstructed his eyes. "Good luck, Ms. Bjorsh."

---

Tic... tic.... tic... The steady clicking of a slow spinning fan metronomed for the ensemble of chaotic noise of the streets, which piercing through a partly broken window. Halfway on a cushion was a half naked Hawkshaw with hookah-pipe in hand. His peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by a sudden message blaring from his enigma engine. "Exterminator-" boomed the voice of the ever frank Haken. Hawkshaw immediately jumped. "Fuck-"
"This is Chief Exterminations Officer Milnuras. The time is 0950."
Hawkshaw's sudden jolt with the hookah-pipe in hand caused the hookah to fall over. "Shit-"
"I expect you to arrive at the Internal Affairs office by 1200 for your new assignment. Your team will assist in on-boarding additional exterminators for Heliopause."
He then noticed water quickly pouring out of the hookah and onto his rug. "FUCK!"
"Failure to arrive will result in severe repercussions. Prepare to be on the field."

Hawkshaw quickly brought the hookah back upright and stared at the now wet spot on the rug with disgust and anger. Waving his arm around as if to grab some magic rag to clean it up, he forced out a heavy breath and threw the pipe out of hand, which sent it along with the hookah into the wall. At this point Hawkshaw was on the verge of angry crying. Rather than sulk on it, he quickly got dressed and wet his face in the sink before walking out. There he took his time to look around the shops on his way to the office. Perhaps, he thought, he could find something to alleviate the distance issue with his anomaly.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Luca Graymin
Location: Hospital | Interactions: Bask & Mystery Guest ( Probably George )

Shadow blanketed the room. From the window that stared directly into a neighboring brick wall to the cat curled up atop his empty pillow, the dim cloak of greys and blacks broken only at his desk, where a small lamp sent light spilling over his papers and across a small piece of rusted metal. He turned it in one hand, finishing the last couple pencil strokes with his other. A few more nights like this and he might be done. With this artifact, anyway.

The stench of stale coffee permeated the air. He blamed it on the brown stain still left at the bottom of his mug, though it could have just as easily been his breath. Maybe he should go grab another cup... once he was done with this next bit, of course. It would be soon — had to be soon. Just a little longer. He could hang on just a little longer.

Outside, muffled snippets of conversation drifted into and out of hearing range. A screeching child. A haggling shopkeeper. A shouting merchant. All reduced to a soft murmur that was punctuated only by the whine of metal against metal as Gray gently pried another part from the machine, then a soft clink as he set it down, and back to a fuzzy near-silence as his pencil resumed its persistent scratching.

It was nice, in a way, having the markets so close that he could hear them. If he strained his senses, he could just barely make out an individual word here and there, quiet enough to let him focus and yet loud enough to bring with it the sense that the world outside wasn't slowly drifting away. It was a better backdrop than neighbors stomping around, or Pest yowling as if she was on the brink of starvation, or—

"This is Chief Exterminations Officer Milnuras. The time is 0950."

His hand slipped, sending the shard of metal slicing neatly across his fingers and splattering his sketches with a fine helping of blood. "Damn it..." He yanked the offending hand back in an instant, leaving it to drip sluggishly over the floor as he blotted the worst of the mess up with his sleeve. Fortunately, the darker lines hadn't smudged too much, but some of the lighter ones...

Gray sighed. He'd need to redraw those later, then. And put on a new shirt.

---

He left early (much to Pest's chagrin), leaving himself plenty of time to stop by for a quick hospital visit on the way there before meeting with the rest of the team. No point in buying a gift if he wasn't going to hand it off, after all.

The din of the crowd, though pleasant when set a wall away from him, rose to an ear-grating roar once he stepped into it. Today, he was afforded none of the avoidance he had so coveted just a handful of hours before. Instead, it was business as usual with him being jostled this way and that as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll tossed under the feet of an indifferent mob.

But he made it. Eventually, he made it.

The door swung to a close behind him with a thunk that reminded him more of a mausoleum than a hospital. In an instant, the noise from outside dropped to a halt, echoing only once before fizzling out completely. Beside him, a man with a rumpled shirt and eye bags to rival his own stirred awake.

Gray approached the reception desk with soft footsteps, trying not to disturb him further. "Excuse me?" he asked at a whisper. "I'm here to drop something off for Bask..." What was his last name? He wasn't sure Bask had ever given it. "Just Bask, actually. He's an older man with a, uh... a beard. And... hair." His mouth twitched into a wince. Yes, a man with hair and a beard. What a highly specific description. "He came in with a stab wound yesterday. Would you happen to know which room he's in?"

The receptionist met his pointless bumbling with a silent stare.

"Is he taking visitors?"

"Are you related to the patient?"

Gray blinked. "No..." he began, eyebrows furrowing as his sleep-addled brain tried to guess why that was important. Then, noting her rapidly narrowing squint, he scrambled for a better answer. "Not by blood, at least! The man in the chair behind him coughed and mumbled a quick, "sorry," over his shoulder before continuing. "He's my brother-in-law."

The receptionist gave a slow blink.

"My brother's brother-in-law."

Her eyebrow quirked.

"Do I really need to be family to visit?"

"No."

"Oh."

Apparently tired of fucking with him (she was just fucking with him, right? Why would she ask otherwise?), the receptionist slid a filing drawer open and started flipping through it. "You said you were delivering a package?"

"Yes."

"It's not a box of cigars, is it?" She pulled a paper from the middle, not bothering to glance up at him. "Had that last week. Took hours to get the smoke cleared out."

"No, it's just—"

"Great, he's in room 207. Down the hall, third door on the left."

"...Right. Thank you."

Gray turned fast enough to make his shoes squeak, doing his best to ignore the fact that he was one question away from (unsuccessfully) lying about familial relations just to visit a coworker. That was... normal. Probably. He already bought something for him, it'd be stupid to come all this way just to not give it to him. It was about wasting time, that was all. He certainly wasn't worried about someone he'd met only a day ago. Someone who was a member of the very small handful of anchors Gray had actually met and likely would have to trust with his life at some point or another. Someone who was liable to die at any moment, quite possible right in front of him while he watched, unable to do much of anything except turn into a god damned cat.

Of course he wasn't worried about him. That would be stupid.

He pulled the bag of candies out of his pocket at glared at the number plastered across the door as if it had prompted the spiraling line of thought in the first place.
Room 207. This was it.

Gray released a winding sigh, raised a hand to the door, and gave a light two knocks. Then, realizing Bask probably wouldn't be able to answer it, fumbled the handle open a mere second later.

 

[Lost Echo]

A second day. Of this new life. No, existence. Life was done. She stared at the blank wall of her room, sitting crosslegged on her bed, wondering when people decide to start marking the days in their prison. Was it the first day? Or when there were so many you feared you’d lose count? Was it the second? Since how could you move, do anything, after the trauma of the first.

Perhaps when you realize you’ve already lost count. Dropping her gaze to her hands, she stared at her fingers. The first day was when he’d dared to try to hurt her class. The unconsciousness had lasted until the next morning, but that was when everything changed. Today was the third day.

Was it wrong?​

Evelyn jumped at the quiet words, breaking the silence of her existence. It had been silent when she awoke. Gone? She’d wondered. Worried. Hoped.

No.​

She knew that answer with every part of her being. The conviction had never wavered. There was nothing else she could have done. They’d planned it together. It already released to turn his mind. Nothing else insured the children were safe.

That mattered. That was good. They would just have to live with this new silence.

As if in mockery, static invaded her peace.

"Exterminator, this is Chief Exterminations Officer Milnuras. The time is 0950. I expect you to arrive at the Internal Affairs office by 1200 for your first assignment. Failure to arrive will result in severe repercussions. Prepare to be on the field."

Exterminator. They were expecting her to kill people. But before she could panic, It was there. Its whispers weren’t words, just a weight almost like a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A reassurance that for all that she lost everything, she didn’t lose It. She was not alone.

 

[Spoiled Bread]

Theresa Cantor
Location: Cantor's residence -> Internal affair's office

Three figures sat in a cramped apartment room, they had been circling this particular kettle and watching the fourth figure trying their... its best to pour the hot tea in the kettle into three cups. The fourth figure wasn't a human but rather a solid shadow, it used to at least shaped like a human but Theresa had been practicing better control for her ability and now she can change its shape from humanoid into a big ambiguous blob of shadow with a few tendrils potruding out of it. She wasn't sure if it was an improvement but Shadow, her enigma, seemed certain that by loosening her restrain on what the shadow was supposed to look like would lead to an overall better control of it.

The blob's tendril slowly poured the tea into the first cup, visibly shaking as it tilted the kettle and let the liquid went through. Theresa didn't physically do anything during the ordeal but sweats could be seen dropping from her forehead. It was very easy for her to control the humanoid-shaped shadow to the point she didn't even need to think about controlling it, but this, this shape felts like she's mentally dancing with an unknown creature, an alien, and said creature was hellbent on tripping her down if she didn't guide its entire limbs to its proper place. After pouring the second tea she felts like her limbs had been transformed into butter. After the third cup she felts like she's deep down, actually, a jellyfish.

"I-I think this should be enough for today." Theresa threw herself on the floor and simply laying down there as severe nausea hits her head. Her sister Martha put a bit of sugar into the tea and served her one of the cup. The sweet taste of the sugar helped alleviate her nausea slightly. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't rest yet as her enigma engine started screaming.

"This is Chief Exterminations Officer Milnuras. The time is 0950. I expect you to arrive at the Internal Affairs office by 1200 for your new assignment. Your team will assist in on-boarding additional exterminators for Heliopause. Failure to arrive will result in severe repercussions. Prepare to be on the field."

She groaned when she heard the instruction. She thought they would get some days for resting considering what they had ben through last time. Still, her job was calling and it's her duty to follow through. After taking a light nap, she donned her old brown coat on top of her shirt and plopped down a pill to help with her headache before finally heading towards her work place.

"Good day, sir." Theresa sheepishly greeted officer Milnuras as she entered the office. She looked around the room and found that she arrived quite early this time as she's the first to come.

Probably George

 

[Lost Echo]

They were bound together. In this new hell. Shackled with that thing. The collar. Its weight hung like a noose. One that had already started to tighten. With every swallow, every breath, she could feel it.

But it was what kept them alive. And she understood the logic. She did. At least once the pain ended.

Flashback~
Awareness had come along slowly. Her heavy body pressed against the cold surface below her. She was so tired, it hurt to move. Even lifting her eyelids took effort and she stared at the strange ceiling above her, not thinking anything. Someone else was moving around. She could hear a buzz, was that her fatigue or really there? What had happened?

The children! She forced herself up with a gasp, turning to the person in the room, the question leaving her lips, “How--” And the pain happened. Her body writhed without control, nearly falling off the table. She was screaming, but even that was nothing in comparison to the agony she was feeling. A hand covered her mouth, trying to suffocate her, but when she went to struggle, she realized it was gone.

“You gonna keep quiet now?”

Evelyn was shaking. She wanted to pass out again, but she needed to know if it worked. Were they safe? Or had she passed out and he’d left her, taking the children? “Th--” At the stab of electricity, she cut herself off. What was happening? She couldn't breathe. She pulled in tiny gasps, almost like sobs. She was going to die.

“Stupid aren’t you?” He hit her back, tossing her forward to her knees. It disrupted her breathing pattern, pulling her from the spiraling grip.

Using her arms to shakily rise up, she turned her head, finally taking in the white coat of the man. Oh. She thought back to the experiments she’d watched throughout her childhood. But this man did not hold scientific curiosity in his eyes, nor even the detached manner with which some worked. No, there was merely disgust. Hatred.

“Pretty sick picking children. You’ve got them all wound around your finger, making them love you.” She flinched as he spat the word at her. Spittle dripped down her face. But she just sighed in relief, her whole body sagging. They still had the children. That meant they were safe. It had worked. It had worked. Tears started to fall down her face. It had worked.

​

Today 10:00am~
She’d gone home with so many questions. Questions she still held. How could she live with this? Could she shower? What sounds could she make? And especially, was It gone?

But she also understood. How could they trust she hadn’t hurt the kids, when she’d barely trusted It herself? She hadn’t known, hadn’t felt the difference until that day. When It had reached out and tried to dissuade that man. She could feel the link to him as if a part of her was reaching out to touch him. And then the surge to control. She-They had to put their all into it. Everything she'd ever felt. If she was not so desperate, she did not think they could have done it. She did not think she could do it again.

Was it trauma bonding? Probably. But the relief she felt at the quiet words of It made her not care. She needed to treat it better. Name it, perhaps.

Vox​

She paused, blinking. Absorbing the information it sent through to her. It had searched through her knowledge and found the word. It was a voice, so Vox was perfect. She agreed with a smile and a nod.

Which pressed against the collar. Bringing her back to the message she so desperately wanted to forget. But she knew. They could have chosen mercy. Killing her in her sleep, they would have never known. Now, there were choices worse than death open to them. She had to go.

 

[Ayama]

Unscrupulous Asya

The Shackle-Maker

Diligent Ionna

The Forge

Asya was sitting at her desk, poring, for what felt like the hundredth time, over the reports of the day's events. One Anchor in the hospital, two injured, no new data on Adriana's powers, and no useful new information to speak of.

What a shitshow, she sighed internally, fighting off the clear beginnings of a headache.

At that moment, the Enigma engine on her desk beeped.

"What is it, Milnuras?" she asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

"Ma'am, I need your permission to add a few more of the tagged Anchors to Heliopause- I think the team could use the extra firepower."

Asya considered the suggestion in silence for a moment. Though she was reluctant to invest in more Anchors given the fiasco of today, still she had to admit it made sense- perhaps things had gone so poorly because they were missing a few key members.

She stayed silent for a few moments more as she reviewed the information sent by the officer.

"Okay, Milnuras, you've got the green light- bring them in."

*****​

Gods, she wished to be home. There were so many things to do- at least six orders due by week's end, plus a couple in-house visits for repairs, installations, or evaluations. This was pretty standard for the young blacksmith but, when things came up to get in the way, it always agitated her. A sigh left her lips as she wandered the now-familiar halls of Internal Affairs, glancing about as she twiddled a wrench in her hand, weightlessly twirling it between her fingers.

Having most of her tools already on her, Ionna paced back and forth as she waited for an officer to come and get her, unable to sit still for even a moment. Her thoughts wandered as she paced, the sense of worry and dread that had been with her ever since she'd been discovered as an Anchor whirling in her mind, ever looming over her, whittling down her sense of calm and sense of self.

When she first became an Anchor, she'd been terrified of discovery, always worrying that she would be found out and killed on the spot. She'd started nervously looking over her shoulder whenever she used her abilities or walked down the street. After discovery, that worry had somehow gotten even worse. She felt as if something was always looming over her shoulder, watching her, and she would often turn around trying to spot it.

Part of her knew this was probably just paranoia, but it wasn't exactly unjustified either- people were terrified of Anchors, and just because she'd been granted a deal to keep operating her business due to her skills being of use to that raven-haired demonic scientist didn't mean that couldn't change on a dime. If the policy changed, from one day to the next they could decide to come after her; kill her- kill her family even.

And what if the public found out? Would the forge that she had spent so many years building up be taken away from her and burned to the ground? These thoughts would cross her mind daily, slowly wearing her down, akin to the endless grinding of a file to the edge of a blade. And now, the worst had come to pass. Well, perhaps not the absolute worst, but close to it: she'd been recruited to a team of Exterminators.

Even though she'd been worrying about it this whole time and it only confirmed what she'd been expecting, the news had still somehow taken her unawares. She couldn't believe she was going to have to fight- something that, while she was relatively capable at it, she detested wholly. Though she understood the need for it (there were, after all, dangerous Anchors out there, and Exterminators were the best bet at taking them out), it was something that, if possible, she didn't want to have to do.

She sighed again, thinking over what the day ahead was about to bring, when an officer stepped into the room and barked "Exterminator Korol, Dr. Myalaym will see you now."

"Aye... I'm coming..." Ionna wearily replied, quickly stowing the wrench away before entering the dreaded office while the officer held the door open for her, feeling, as she always did, the finality of a prison cell or execution chamber when it shut behind her with a thud.

Asya, as always, was sitting behind her desk, electric green eyes fixing the Anchor with that piercing stare, the spider to Ionna's fly. The blacksmith quietly and carefully watched her... employer (the word felt strange to even think- being her own boss was why she had her own forge in the first place) with her single eye, standing with the desk acting almost as a barrier between them. She didn't want to admit it and always did her level best not to let the fear show, but the Heliopause scientist creeped her out- she looked at people like they were lab rats.

Asya watched the Anchor enter her office with the usual detachment. Much like Gray, Ionna had skills that were valuable to her so, instead of immediately having them drafted, locked up, or killed, she made deals. With Gray, she kept the more unsavory element of his clientele at arm's length- in exchange, he used his talents for her. The same was true in Ionna's case, except the deal with her was allowing the Anchor to keep running her business. At least, until now. She had been selected by Milnuras as one of the additional Anchors to Heliopause and, given her abilities, Asya had to recognize this was a logical choice, even if it meant her potentially losing the Exterminator's other skills.

She nodded as Ionna set the object she'd been asked to bring in down on her desk before backing away and standing once more at a respectful (or possibly safe) distance.

"Well?" the scientist enquired, waiting for the blacksmith's report.

Ionna looked at the scientist, then at the piece of metal on the desk- a single bangle of sorts, made of simple layered metals and inlaid with small divots for future additions. "A prototype has been made," she answered. "Simple, yet strong. Currently, it's constructed with a titanium alloy that will make it light enough to carry, but strong enough to withstand whatever may come."

She flicked a finger gently, rolling it onto its face. "I left openings for the devices that Heliopause may use to... suppress Anchors," she added, hesitating on the word she was fully aware was likely to be a euphemism for 'kill'. Creating a device that was a essentially a bomb intended to blast her fellow Anchors to smithereens made her sick, but she hadn't had a choice. "...or at least the errant ones," she concluded with unconvinced hope, knowing full-well the object's intended use.

She took in a small, shuddering breath when done, letting the bangle rest on the desk and watching as Asya picked it up, turning it over in her hands as she examined the blacksmith's work. It was painfully obvious from her twitchy, restless movements that she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, and back to the relative safety and comfort of her shop, but of course she could not do so unless dismissed.

Despite all these small signs, her poker face remained neutral, and her words kept the same neutral tone- even and collected. "Once the final design is approved, production would be fairly easy. Though of course any additions made would be outside of my area of expertise."

"It looks good," the scientist commented as she turned the small object over a couple more times, impressed despite herself by the craftsmanship and combination of lightness and strength. "The tracking device and shutdown button will need to be in tamper-proof compartments, so that the Anchors can't access, remove, or modify them in any way," she instructed. "See to it."

A quick nod. "Aye. I'll need the dimensions of those devices then, for best results," she replied, adjusting the belt around her hips, the jingle of various metals against the many tools within lingering in the air for a few moments. "Unless you plan to make them equal to the size of the bangle, of course."

Asya's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "You'll have the specifications you need when you return to your shop." She paused then, a sardonic look animating her features. "Assuming, of course, that you survive the day." Coming from most people, such a statement would have been a joke, but this was Asya Nur Myalaym, and the cold mixture of detachment and amusement in her eyes would have sent a chill down anybody's spine.

The scientist let the bleak pronouncement hang ominously in the air between them for a moment more before resuming her brisk, business-like manner. "Good job. Now, go downstairs and join the others- the prototype will be returned to you at day's end." And with that, the blacksmith was dismissed.

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

 

[Lost Echo]

What did one wear on the field? Would they leave the city? The prospect was terrifying enough, but Evelyn was trying to be practical. To focus on what she could affect now. So clothes. She’d never been in a fight, but some things could be assumed. Pants, firstly. The few slacks she wore were loose and thin, perfect for the hot weather Insert town name here had. Her mind worried about the fabric getting caught, but she lacked any other. She’d need to go shopping.

But how? She could not greet the keepers, let alone bargain.

But she was smart; she could make it work. All she needed was a paper and pen and--​

“NO!” The word burst forth, followed by a cry of pain. When she opened her eyes (which she must have closed during the agony), she was on her knees, panting heavily. How long had that lasted? She’d tried to stop herself quickly, but it had felt so long…And then she remembered. Horror burst through her. With a start she realized it had placed itself between her grief and panic, letting her think. But her horror and fear pushed past him, filling her.

Please no, not me. Never me.​

She could feel Its confusion. It’s belief that it was helping. Its proud defiance: it had been working.

Desperate for It to understand, she asked.

If you controlled me, wouldn’t you get tired of me? Like a toy?​

Its amusement, such as she’d feel to a small child, came with reassurances. It could never leave her. It was bound to her forever. It loved her.

It was not understanding. She interrupted its condescension, still trying to be patient as if with a child.

If you controlled me. I would not be me anymore. I’d be you.​

There was silence in her head, as if it had pulled itself tight, trying not to touch anything. She’d never felt so empty. In the softest voice she’d heard from it, it said.

I want you, you​

She took a moment, trying to think what to say without thinking. She could not lie and agree with it. It would know, even detached as it was. She did not want it, she shied away from that thought, trying to ignore what she did want. (To go back in time, to be normal again) But…

I don’t want to be alone.​