[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: "Heheheee~ Don't go back that way, it's-"*BOOM*"-... Right on time! :D"
Abilities: Milly is, in spite of her young age, an explosives expert with an in-depth knowledge of how to brew just about anything you might need for demolition. She knows how to make small explosives, big explosives, explosives that will stick to a surface, explosives that will just flash without actually causing damage, if you need something blown up, Milly is the one to ask. She's also rather capable of laying traps, provided they involve explosives. She is also adept at predicting when an explosion will occur, and as she is familiar with the scent of gunpowder she can detect it by smell very easily. Due to her small size, Milly is also decent at infiltration, provided she gets to blow something up at the end.
Personality: Milly is rather friendly and enthusiastic, and eager to talk. Well, eager to talk about one specific thing. Explosives. Milly loves to talk about explosives. This may be because of her near-obsession with them and her tendency to use them for just about any purpose no matter what it is. Distractions, breaking through a lock, fighting, Milly uses explosives to do just about anything they could possibly be used for. She adores explosions to the point of almost lusting for a fiery blast of destruction, which likely drives her work to make more and more explosives. She is eager to help out the crew... by building explosives and explosive traps. However, she can also be rather temperamental and quick to anger. She is much more patient with constructing new bombs then she is with people in most cases. She dislikes her nickname of "Minnie" as she is self-conscious about her small size and underdeveloped appearance. However, she is confident she will grow out of it, insisting she is simply a late bloomer and in a year or two she will be even more mature in build then any of the other girls in the crew. Her payback towards those who anger her tends to vary, from planting flashbang traps in their room to putting small explosive traps under their bed, the former for friends and the latter for enemies.
Bio: Descended from a long line of explosives experts, Milly's purpose in life is derived from the success of her family in the field. To put it simply, Milly feels the need to display her explosives knowledge. Born to Eric and Danielle Nobel, Milly grew up learning about explosives. Indeed, from a young age, she grew more and more obsessed with them. Sadly, she suffered from illness early in life, which she insists explains her "late bloomer" status. She has long since recovered from her illness, and insisted in venturing out into the world to display her explosives knowledge. It became especially important to her after the accidental death of her father six years ago, which many people attributed to a mistake with his explosives. Adamant that her father would never make such a mistake, Milly left in order to prove the knowledge he passed to her was not the knowledge of someone who would have killed themselves with their own work. Admittedly she also left in order to blow up more things, but the original, chief purpose, the one closest to her heart, is to prove herself and prove her father did not make a mistake that cost him his life.

[User]
Morning of First Adventure

---

Melody woke up and looked around her cabin. Everything was in order, last nights thunder storm hadn't seriously dislocated anything in he room. She walked over to the control panel (in her room) and looked to see what the ships power level was at. "98%? I thought that storm would have completely filled our power cells." She let out a sigh and proceeded to get dressed. I didn't matter if the cell wasn't fully charged, as long as it got them to the destination she didn't care. Once she was dressed, she donned her old captain's white coat which she wore as a cloak. She strapped on her sword and gun and walked out of the cabin onto the deck. It was quiet, most of the crew was asleep, she hoped that the lookout in the crow's nest wasn't asleep either. As much as Melody trusted her crew, she knew that certain people would fall asleep on the job when assigned to be the look out. Melody didn't want to know if the look out was asleep, they were safe, and she didn't feel any explosions... so far, therefore all was well.
 Seeing that everything on deck was still fine, Melody proceeded to the helm of the ship and took control of the wheel. She always felt comfortable when steering the ship, despite that the wheel was only the turning agent on the miraculous craft. Next to the wheel were 3 levers on each side of the wheel. Each lever controlled 1 of the 6 rotors on the corresponding side of the ship. There were also 2 more switches on the floor that the helmsman stepped on to make the ship go forward or backward. Melody set the ship into forward motion and looked at the displayed map next to her. As long as they held an eastward direction, they would eventually make it to Falis Island.
 The wind began to whip through her hair as the Stormsong soared through the clouds. Melody always felt free and relaxed when she was gliding through the clouds, and because she felt relaxed, she began to sing. She started singing a sweet energizing melody that wafted through the ship. She knew that her song would wake up her crew, she also knew that it would give them a little extra spring in their step as they worked. It was a win-win situation for her; she got to sing, and her crew would keep the ship in top shape. All was well, for now.

[Assistant]
"Mnn...?"

One green eye slowly opened. Oh... the captain was singing, it must've been morning already. With a yawn, the pale, white-haired girl sat up and rubbed her eyes. There was a slight clanking sound as she shifted, knocking aside the empty containers she used to make bombs. Indeed, there was a pile of them directly next to her hammock, now scattered across the ground. Milly's room on the ship was full of these kinds of things. Shelves were covered in supplies to make explosives, she had several barrels of gunpowder lining the walls. String to ignite it, pressure triggers, wires that allowed her to make traps or ranged explosives, glue for sticky bombs, potassium and magnesium for flashbangs... and that didn't even count all the grenades she had in the pockets lining the interior of her dress. To put it simply, Milly's room was packed with all kinds of dangerous materials. She had a desk as well, for working on explosives and engineering traps. Hopping out of her hammock, she headed for the doorway and pushed it open.

It creaked open, and Milly stepped out of her room. Certainly, it was brighter outside then it was in there, in part because using fire in a room full of gunpowder and explosives was incredibly foolish and attempting to rig up any other form of lighting in the room had been met mostly with failure. She stretched again, feeling the wind whip past her.

Hopefully, she'd get to blow something up today.

[User]
~Excerpt from Jonathan's Notebook - Week 319, Day 2~

...by the skin of our teeth. What a dreadful nightmare. It's not as if I proposed to her right then and there. I only meant to sweep her off her feet with my irresistible charm and let the moment pass. By the heavens, I swear that husbands are really just petty children with grubby fingers in disguise. Surely, I must be the only reasonable and sensitive man in all of Endalia.

In more recent events, I have found my stay aboard the Stormsong to be quite pleasant. I suppose a week must have passed since we embarked along with the crew, and every day since has been marked by a sort of youthful exuberance that I've not felt since my days at the Hartford estate.

Alas, I cannot say that I've won the favor of our dear captain. Though she has come of age and is strikingly beautiful, she has dismissed all of my advances without a single hint of consideration. I do wonder why she treats me so. I am honorable and kind - a peerless gentleman among a sea of neanderthalic male drones. Yet all I receive in kind is disdain.

Oh what tragedy! How I long to be the subject of her gentle voice's angelic strains. In fact - I can hear her singing now, as seems to be her morning habit at the wheel. How can the tune she spins ring so sweetly, when the unrequited affections of my heart cry out in bitter anguish?

In contrast, the cannoneer and I have gotten along quite well, and I've found myself quite taken with the girl. Ms. Milly Nobel is her name, though she seems to be called Minnie by the other crew members, much to her chagrin. Quite the excitable lass, and fond of incendiaries, much like myself. I wouldn't dare touch her now, but I believe that in several years time she will grow to become an exquisite rose that causes all other--

THUNK.

Red stars blurred his vision as Jonathan clutched his head in recoil at the blow, sending both his quill and journal tumbling to the deck below. He moaned in agony, but immediately began to panic. He needed to warn the others. They were under attack. Eyes still shut at the impact blindness, Jonathan reached clumsily at his back, his fingers searching frantically for his blunderbuss. But it was no where to be found. He froze. Opening his eyes slowly, Jonathan's vision returned just in time for him to find the barrel of his own gun pointed right at his face.

"bang." Song stated flatly. "now you're dead, and everyone else is too." She dropped the gun derisively onto the bottom of the crows nest. It landed with a dull thunk.

"Now Song, I--," Jonathan stammered, attempting to regain his composure. He stood up, and straightened himself out before continuing. "I was merely performing a mental exercise, training my peripheral vision to perform my look out duty as my direct vision was preoccupied with… other things."

"that turned out quite well, i think." Song mused dryly.

Jonathan cringed. "Indeed… Well I suppose you're here to relieve me and take over my look out shift. Yes? Good. Very Good. I'll leave you to it. Wouldn't want to distract you, heavens no. I--"

"just go." Song rolled her eyes, and gracefully seated herself in the crow's nest, picking up the spyglass that Jonathan had clearly not been using.

Jonathan sighed in mild dejection, and began the slow climb down to the main deck. As his feet hit the wood, he scanned the surface for his journal and quill. How rude could Song possibly be? Sure, he may have endangered the entire crew by neglecting his lookout duties to write in his log, but was that any reason at all to treat him poorly? He didn't think so.

Now where was that damned notebook?

[Assistant]
"kuru! kuru!"

"kuru! kuru! kuru!"

"kuru! kuru! kuruuuuu!"

"Mmm..." Char woke up after being restlessly poked in her right cheek by Pico. Her first reaction was to roll to her side and cover her head with her pillow, but then Pico started poking her sides, with made Char break out in laughter and before she noticed, she was already wide awake.

"Oh come on, Pico. You could at least let me sleep over once in a while, I spent the last night with my face buried in the ship's logbook, you know?" Char said playfully, not really meaning to scold her clueless pet. However, it was a fact that Char spent the night prowling through the ship's log trying to rig the many holes on the Stormsong's financial balance.

"Lalala..."

It was then that Char heard the Melody's song, which meant that the day outside was a good one, "Let's go, Pico!" Char said excitedly as she jumped down from her bed and tumbled on the floor bellow to cushion her fall. "kuru!" Pico chirped as he flew to his place at Char's shoulder.

When Char opened the door, she heard the sound of many falling objects on the powder room, "Minnie-san! Are you ok?" She asked a few moments before the girl who slept there like it was her own room stepped out of the door, stretched and went to the upper deck with a face that showed all too well what was passing through her mind.

"Have a nice day!" Char waved to the passing girl before turning to Pico and saying, "I guess cooking is on us today again, huh?" With a happy "kuru!" Pico rubbed his face on Char's cheek as they made their way to ship's kitchen.

A few minutes later...

The smell of freshly baked bread, whose dough had been left resting by Char a little before she went to sleep, sunny side up seasoned eggs, bacon and coffee quickly took the ship. And probably most of the crew had their stomachs growling by the time Char stepped at the upper deck and yelled, "Breakfast is ready, people! Come while it's still hot!"


[System]
Race: Togruta
Age: 34
Sex: Female
Affiliation: Jedi
Rank: Knight
Physical Description: (see above)

Mental Description: Peaceful by nature, Vishara does not enjoy fighting, but understands that it is a tool that must be utilized in certain circumstances. For this reason, she maintains extreme discipline with force and lightsaber usage, practicing both on a daily basis. She is a centered individual, but is fiercely loyal to the Jedi and the Jedi Code. She believes that the Jedi Code must be upheld to ensure peace in the galaxy, and grudgingly knows that she may have to fight to maintain its survival.

History: Vishara Aashtii was born on Shili, the homeworld of the Togruta. At a very young age a visiting Jedi discovered that she was force-sensitive and took her back to the Order for training. Despite hardly ever living among her people, she still retained their strong communal spirit, and thus devoted herself quickly to the ways of the Jedi, perhaps moreso than most. She lacks a strong sense of individuality, as she considers all Jedi to be one Whole, and each Jedi is simply an extension of the Whole.

Because of her strong devotion to the Jedi Order and her communal nature, she doesn't function well independently. She is known to get lonely easily, and does not handle isolation well. For this reason, she is never given missions that require her to work alone. She truly shines when working in a duo or a team, and will do whatever she can for the greater good of her companions.

Vishara's Jedi skills focus primarily on Force usage. She is adequate with a lightsaber, but typically uses it only for defensive purposes; she relies her wits and Force skill to defeat her opponents. For the most part, she avoids combat whenever possible. It is said that her skill with the Force is on par or superior to many Jedi Masters, but due to her inability to work independently or lead, she has yet to be advanced to that rank. The Council recognizes her natural talent for being a Jedi, but are not sure if she has the confidence to truly be a complete Jedi Master.

Equipment: Silver lightsaber with a plain hilt. Jedi Knight robes, same as those in the picture above. Basic gear.

[User]
Sesran awaited landing adjacent to the Command center, hidden among the Dark Jedi, anyone could fit in. It was more about your innermost beliefs, what you follow. Or what you understand, though the Sith code meant little to Sesran, similarities between his ideals and the Sith were too real. He used the dark side for personal gain, he would like to think that he serves no one, but aboard the transport cruiser masqueraded, he still served.

*Through passion, strength. And through it, power, and power leads to victory*

Such empty phrases muttered from others around him, perhaps dark Jedi who only attempted to meld with the dark side. Having similar wants or needs does not make it any better to follow blindly. Sesran knew where he stood. And prepared to drop. He had never fought with Jedi before, but slaughtering them would only bring him one step closer to his own victory. He would never be ecstatic. His emotion nearly stripped from years of torture.
He looked across the cabin to see a pale skinned, violet eyed Vahla girl, somewhat young for a mission as this.
He spoke from under his hood to her.

"What is it that you think about all these... 'Sith' here, some of these Sith in Jedi Robes. They may as well be Jedi with short fuses. Not to say they cannot be Sith, but their constant nagging of the code again and again. Would make one think they try to hard, and for nothing if they don't believe. What is it you believe?"
He waited for an answer.

(landing after inner conversation, or with anyone else.)

"There is no peace-" he said to himself before the transport landed. As he stepped to the ground below he spoke.

"Only adversity, and abhorrence-"

[Assistant]
RC-0666 or Beast as he was known by his comrades was being investigated, his last mission should have been a cakewalk but it turned into a blood bath, three dead commandos, thousands of dead civilians, and the objective was half destroyed. Beast was confined to quarters until the investigation was over, he knew the result before it even started someone had to be responsible for the dead civilians. He was going to be executed for his 'crimes.' He slept through the explosions, if one couldn't learn to do that one most likely never slept, besides his service was at an end. Beast was awaken by a trooper. "Get your ass out of bed commando and go kill the ones slaughtering your brothers." Beast jumped out of bed and ran to the armory. He donned his armor and grabbed his weapons along with as much ammo as he could carry he then found a Wookie bandolier he stuffed that full of grenades and draped it over his shoulder. He exited the building and headed towards the sound of blaster fire and explosions.

Felicia and Talyssa were in the city when the fighting began. Felicia felt the presence of the Dark Side. "They will be heading for the Temple Talyssa, we must ensure they never reach their destination. Remember kill them before they can kill you. When the battle is over and the dust clears, leave none of them alive." Felicia and Talyssa raced towards the Temple. They ran into a group of clones along the way. Felicia took charge of the clones. Felicia's group came across a group of Mandalorian mercenaries and a heavily damaged building completely engulfed in flames. Keep them in the shadow of the building. Felicia and Talyssa concentrated their effort on toppling the building. When the building fell not all of them were crushed some managed to be in an area where the wall was destroyed but that only meant they burned to death. One managed to jump out of the way in time, Felicia activated one of her Lightsabers and threw it impaling him in the heart. Just as the Lightsaber returned to her hand they were joined by a Commando introducing himself as RC-0666. "We have to defend the Temple. It and whatever these animals want must not be seized. Once we are inside RC-0666 you are to ensure there is only one easy way inside, destroy all other entrances and exits, funnel the enemy into a kill zone but be on the look out for them to make their own entrance. I must consult with any masters left inside." Felicia leads the group to the Temple.

[User]
Willo Assay

The battle had begun to draw closer. There were sounds of explosions and firing in the near distance, and she could see --just faintly-- the nagging glow of the lightsaber spectrum. Many guardians, many knights, all so eager. A few of the dark Jedi had charged in their impatience, but Willo remained in the back, pausing when the presence of another voice caught her attention.

The man looked as most of the others did, and she spotted the two lightsabers at his hips. He showed at least some manner of constraint, that is until he began reciting "the Code". It made her grimace, and when he walked off of the transport she gave him an answer to his question.

"I believe in few things, but I believe the most pertinent would be this. 'Through power I gain victory'," she said, the words holding such refinement that would come with years upon years of ceaseless rehearsal. "I suppose we'll find out today which of these eager ones is worthy, and which ones will die in chains."

With that she began to walk on towards the temple, but not before throwing a look to him over her shoulder. Despite his butchery of the Code, she felt in him an inkling of that rare o' rare potential. "If you come with me, perhaps we can see just how capable you are of breaking your own chains."

[Assistant]
Tucked away in a secluded room of the Jedi Temple, Vishara Aashtii was engaged in her daily ritual of floating meditation. She felt the Force channeling through her being, and allowed it to envelop her like a mother's warm embrace. It was a soothing experience, especially on days where she felt the yearning of her Togruta heritage to be in a community of her own people. This longing was one of the few emotions she had yet to master, and although she knew it was biologically driven, it frequently challenged her confidence.

Being part of the Jedi was better than being in a Togruta community, she knew. Although that life had an appeal of simplicity, she could never fulfill her greatest goal there--to foster peace in the galaxy. She knew total peace was an impossible goal to constantly chase after, but no place other than among the Jedi could she pursue it effectively and actually have at least a small impact.

These thoughts began to melt away as she fell deeper into her meditative trance, and soon she was not thinking of Jedi or Togruta or even peace; Vishara was simply existing, at one with the Force.

But then, disturbing her tranquility, a strange sensation washed over her. The Force seemed to shudder for a brief, almost undetectable moment--but Vishara's deep concentration allowed her to feel that something was wrong. Sensing immediate danger, her eyes snapped open and her hand flew to her lightsaber, but there was no other physical presence in the room.

Gently, she unfolded her legs and landed on the polished floor, her sandaled feet making a soft pattering sound as she stopped using the Force to suspend herself in the air. The strange sensation left her completely alert in the way only a Jedi could be--she tuned her senses to their maximum, assessing her surroundings in an attempt to understand the source of the Force disturbance.

Is it the Sith? she wondered. No, that is impossible, with Darth Sidious dead. Deciding that there was no immediate danger to her, Vishara allowed her senses to relax a bit as she left the meditation room and began heading in the direction of the Jedi Council chambers. Perhaps the Council knows what is happening. I must seek their advice.

Before she reached the end of the hallway, a loud explosion cracked through the peaceful ambience of the temple, followed by a violent rumbling. Vishara's golden eyes flashed back and forth to witness Jedi bursting forth from rooms or stopping in the middle of conversations, confusion washing through them all. A moment later, another explosion followed the first, and as each Jedi looked to one another, they understood in an instant that Coruscant was under attack. Knights and Padawans alike began rushing toward the Council chambers to await instruction, and Vishara followed diligently, suppressing the spike of fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

-=Five hours later=-

Vishara, along with a few other Knights, had been ordered by the Council to guard their chambers, should any enemy Force users manage to slip inside during the confusion of the attack. Thusfar, none had--the temple defenses were keeping the direct perimeter of the area secure. She hoped they would be enough. She felt no fear, no panic, no anger at the situation--the only emotion nagging at the corners of her control was the longing, the urgency of loneliness that threatened to envelop her if the Jedi were eradicated this day. She knew she must do everything in her power to stop such a thing from occurring.

Just then, Obi-Wan exited the Council chambers and looked toward Vishara and the other Knights guarding the area, saying brusquely, "Knights. Report to the temple's defenses immediately--they are in danger of failing, and they must not fail. There will be Clone troopers there to assist you. Remember--keep those defenses active, or the Temple will be destroyed!" With that, Obi-Wan departed, leaving the Knights to their orders.

Vishara glanced around briefly at the others, noting their names in her head as they all began sprinting to their new post. She would remember them, and fight for them as if they were blood family. None of them would die this day. The defenses would not fall. They could not fall.


[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
Full character artwork is pretty huge, so it just gets a link.
Homura is, at least appearance-wise, a fairly unassuming young lady high school student. She doesn't dress to stand out, most of the time, wears glasses, and has long black hair with very visible white streaks in it. Take your best shot, she's heard and deflected them all, by now. Homura is usually seen carrying a shinai bag. Its contents vary between practice weapons and her actual one, depending on the circumstances.

Possession mode appearance
When possessed by her sword, Most of Homura's hair turns white, and the streaks that were already white instead take on a luminous red hue.

Personality:
Homura, despite her name, is a cool and collected individual. She tends to remain calm in most situations and isn't the sort to back down from a threatening opponent. She is polite, kind, and dutiful, and takes her training seriously. Her somewhat detached approach to life can easily lead to her being "spacey", and it's not altogether inaccurate. She'd miss quite a lot if she didn't have a second set of eyes watching out for her.

Homura's life isn't all training in kendo to inherit the family's style and continue the family business as a youkai hunter. She enjoys anime and video games in her spare time, and plays some sort of otome game on her smartphone almost religiously. When particularly nervous or flustered, she has a habit of messing with her glasses, usually cleaning them.

Vermillion Harvest Moon (Mizuki)
Although "only" a sword, Mizuki deserves her own entry as well. She tends to view Homura with parental concern, and is often the one who has to warn her wielder of impending danger, especially of the supernatural sort. She's not above a considerable amount of sass when she does, either. She seeks to understand humans through combat, or so she claims. Of the two, she's often the more aggressive one, though beyond rattling in her sheath of her own accord, these aspects tend to only manifest when possessing Homura.

Abilities:
Homura herself is a more or less ordinary human, with the physical abilities one would expect. Also she has myopia, not that it's a useful ability.

Her family has been youkai hunters for generations, and she trains in the family martial and exorcism arts. She can write talismans, but she has little to no talent for imbuing them with actual power. She does have a knack for things relating to her own body. She can enhance her own balance and lighten her body, to remain sure-footed in any situation, and stand on surfaces that otherwise would not support her. She can also leap exceptionally long distances horizontally or vertically.

Homura's sword, Vermillion Harvest Moon is a tsukumogami. It has lived, and fought, for generations, and carries volumes of experience in combat. As a youkai weapon, it's also quite dangerous to youkai and spirits of various sorts. It is also perfectly capable of speech, even when not possessing someone.

Through contact, the sword can possess someone to act as its wielder (or, perhaps,to wield their body as an extension of the weapon). In the case of the youkai hunters of the Kiyohara family, ancient blood contracts render this possession into more of a collaboration, where the youkai hunter is usually still in control of their actions, and merely benefits from essentially becoming a half-youkai while under its effects, gaining increased physical capabilities.

Skills:
Homura is training in her family's form of exorcism arts, primarily using swords or unarmed strikes. She's as good as one would expect for someone raised in a dojo.

She can follow a recipe and cook well enough, and is also quite good at making tea. Decent calligraphy skills, from making talismans and charms. Reasonably adept gamer.
Equipment:
Vermillion Harvest Moon - The Kiyohara family's heirloom katana, and a tsukumogami in its own right. The spirit of the sword tends to go by the name "Mizuki."

Smartphone, glasses, stockings, etc. If it's the sort of mundane thing a teenage girl would have, she probably has it.

Brief Backstory:
Homura is an ordinary girl, her family just has an unusual job. They're youkai hunters, and have been for generations. In the modern day, the true calling is hardly as important as it used to be, but that certainly doesn't stop the passing down of the old traditions.

Homura began training from a young age at the family dojo, learning the ways of a youkai hunter. She didn't necessarily understand why she had to go through such harsh training, but she was in no position to question it, either. She'd never even heard of a youkai terrorizing anyone outside of fairy tales. Or maybe some of those bedtime stories were family history? Regardless, while there might still be a need for youkai hunters, both the hunter and the prey have gotten subtler and adopted modern methods of living. Her family runs a cafe.

As the current heir to her family's style, Homura wields the family sword, a tsukumogami blade. Given the state of her hair, she's definitely had occasion to do so in the past, as the longer one remains possessed by the sword, the more of the victim's hair turns permanently white.

While she avoided the repeated attempts of her high school's kendo club to recruit her, she was given an offer she couldn't refuse, when it came to the occult club.

[User]
Akari, too, stared. Entirely fictional? If something was entirely fictional, it couldn't take people away. If something entirely fictional was now taking things away, then it obviously wasn't entirely fictional. It didn't particularly matter if it was something being a copycat of this supposedly fictional person or what was going on, the oni just... didn't think it was possible to have a definition of fiction that extended to going around taking children.

Although, she didn't really want to argue with Tomoko about what was fictional and whether random bits of net lore counted as fiction anyway, so the small girl just frowned. "Bait? Like... sake? Sake is good bait..."

Especially for oni, but it also worked reasonably well on a lot of other things. Who could resist a free drink?

[Assistant]
Before Hina could start drawing, Kaori drew her into a hug and immediately alarm bells went off. Hina groaned and kicked her little feet ineffectually, whining and flopping against the spider like a suffocating tuna. As the ghost explained what she wanted drawn, Hina slowly realized that Kaori couldn't really do anything to her in front of Tomoko if she didn't want to be punished, and calmed down somewhat. She shot Kaori a glare and puffed up her cheeks, giving the spider a saucy 'HMPH' before shaking her head and looking down at her sketch pad. Even trapped in Kaori's arms, she could draw. Hina was a true professional in the end.

If Hina assumed that the ghost enjoyed karuta as much in life as she did now, she was probably from the mid 1500s at the earliest. This meant that the samurai armor she might be familiar with would be of a full plate style that had been adapted from European armor at that time, which was a better defense against arquebusiers than the previous lamellar style. This was just as well, because drawing the individual scales would be a hassle. In order to save even more time, she would give the ghost samurai a ghost tail instead of legs. This would also signal that this samurai was, indeed, a ghost, because it would be hard to make that clear otherwise. Why was a ghost wearing armor at all? Because it's cool, alright? It's a ghost samurai.

The details were largely left up to Hina, but given the description, she assumed it was something of a self-insert. Hina would sketch a girl much like this ghost in a semi-realistic style, because the ghost didn't seem to be up on modern trends. A manga-like style might just confuse her. Creating such a quality sketch was possible with the time she saved in other areas. Given that the symbol of a samurai is their sword, she opted to make it special and cover it in cool ghost flames. To finish it off, she created a stylized flower mon to represent the family this samurai belonged to. Hina based it off of a hibiscus, like the flowers on the girl's kimono, and zonked back to reality when Tomoko announced the culprit.

"Ah... I thought it might be her. Hachishaku-sama, right? She's really evolved from the old 2chan thread and become her own thing nowadays, huh? Originally she'd just possess and kill you, but due to memetic mutation..."

Hina trailed off as she handed the sketch to the ghost and winked.

"Don't spend it all in one place~"

She turned back to the rest of the club members.

"So... Foxboy locates her, then we set up the bait to get her to appear," Hina said thoughtfully, "hmmm... but who could we use that would be relatively safe, and might be able to get out of trouble if things get dicey?"

Hina casually went incorporeal to escape Kaori's clutches and paced around a little.

"Someone who looks like a little kid, but is experienced enough to take care of themselves. Hmmm..."

Then, she locked eyes with Tomoko, the light of mutual understanding flashing in her pupils, and approached the boss.

"No need to say anything. I get it... I definitely get it... I'll help you pick out a cute randoseru so you can serve as bait! I even have an elementary school uniform in my treasure room you can use! I know it fits me, so it will probably fit you."

[User]
"Hasshaku-sama?" Shina asked, looking toward Tomoko. Well, the Tanuki had never heard about it. "Tall?" So, this tall Youkai or ghost would kidnap children to... Do something. If it was a youkai she assumed that it would just eat them. "Entirely fictional?" How interesting. She reached into her clothing in her current diminutive form and pulled out her smartphone. She clicked on her device for a few seconds before looking up Hasshaku-sama. "Tall woman... Po... Alright..." The tanuki gave a small sigh before poofing back into her normal form. "So, we're going to get someone for bait.." She looked between Akari and Hina.

"Hmmm~ You know, I think a randoseru would look really cute on you, Miss Zashiki-Warashi~" Before the Zashiki-Warashi could notice, Shina was right behind her and wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulder. "If we dress you up in that elementary school uniform and randoseru and gauge the spider's reaction, I'm sure we'll know if you're like to be kidnapped~." She then released her and wandered over to the spider and patted her on the shoulder. "Look at that, Miss Spider, we can make good use of your deranged preferences in women... Or, perhaps I could say, lack-thereof." The tanuki giggled a small bit, enjoying being able to make fun of everyone a small bit.

Shina then wandered over to Homura rather quickly, "So, Homu-tan, don't you agree with me on that? Hina could completely be bait, right? What do you think~?" The Tanuki was lightly nudging the human girl in the side a small bit. "Too bad you and me are too big to be bait~" Shina teased, handily ignoring the fact that she could transform to look like a school girl.

[Assistant]
Shimizu Kaori
Playground

---

"Hasshaku-sama...?" A name Kaori wasn't familiar with. Ugh, all these new modern youkai and spirits popping up making her feel like an old woman. What kind of Youkai was into specifically kidnapping little children anyways? Seemed rather like a nonsensical concept. At least the respectable members of the Jorogumo society had other motives...herself notwithstanding.

"Hmm? A randoseru? On Little Hina-chan?" She'd narrow her eyes at Shina. "You're backhanded compliments aside, I'm not sure I'd be a good judge. Hina-chan already looks perfectly cute and kidnappable~" She'd giggle as though she was proud of that fact, looking over to the ghost in question with a smile. "Hmm...but you do make an excellent suggestion." Immediately, Kaori walked over to Tomoko hands clasped together in front of her with an excitable grin.

"Tomo-chan, tomo-chan~! Let me take Hina-chan home~" She'd ask. "Ehehe, I can dress her up exactly like we need too! And I promise not to lay a fuzzy little leg on her. Please my ever so cute, adorable, smart club president and lovely Tomo-chan~ grant your little spider this request~?"


[System]
Nickname: just Arin
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Powers/skills: Human: Telepathy Dinosaur: Can breathe ice.
Species: Human/Dinosaur
Crush: Ayaka
Relationship: Ayaka
Appearance(s):
Personality: Arin is a very nice guy who would go out of his way to help someone in need even if he doesn't know them.
Bio/history: TBR
Likes: The beach(either to watch the waves or meet Ayaka there), his girlfriend(loves her actually), anyone who is nice to him.
Dislikes: a certain necromancer he refuses to name(Hunter), anyone who purposely tries to anger him or hurt his girlfriend.
Other: If he is really angry, he will become a giant dinosaur. So if you're looking to be his friend, don't anger him.

Name: Kendra
Nickname: none
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Powers/skills: Plant Enancement
Species: She-wolf(my idea of a female werewolf)
Crush: none yet
Relationship: Single
Appearance(s):
Personality: Adventurous, imaginative, industrious, curious and loving.
Bio: TBR
Likes: TBR
Dislikes: TBR
Other: none

Name: Viktor Quintus
Nickname: Vik
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Powers/skills: Camouflaging, Blood Boiling, Force Blasts(Only uses this as a last resort).
Species: Demon
Crush: none
Relationship: Single
Appearance(s):  (without the chains of course)
Personality: TBR
Bio: TBR
Likes/dislikes: You'll find out at some point in the rp.
Other: none

Name: Vile
Nickname: none
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Powers/skills: Transmutation. and Portal Creation(he mainly uses this to get around).
Species: Demon
Crush: (Insert something witty here)
Relationship: (same as above)
Appearance(s):
Personality: Evil, cunning, persuasive and a trickster.
Bio/history(optional): TBR
Likes: Toying with the innocents and creating things.
Dislikes: Everything and everyone else.
Other: none.

[User]
Arin stood on on the beach, watching the waves while waiting on his girlfriend(Ayaka)

In the forest was a female wolf walking around. She was currently searching for some prey which mostly consist of small animals(such as birds, rabbits, etc). Kendra sniffed the air, hoping for a scent and finally smelled a rabbit somewhere nearby. She began her search for said rabbit.

In a dark alleyway in the city, three men(thugs) were trying to pick on another man who didn't seem fazed by any of their insults. Suddenly, all three men were blasted back against the wall. Standing over them was Viktor, smiling at yet another job well done as the thugs ran off to who knows where.

[Assistant] The door of the souvenir shop creaked open. A small doll walked in. The shopkeeper turned around, surprised. He stared at the doll, then an echoey voice rang out through the empty mouth. "Money. Or you die.". The doll pulled up a small handgun. "Ha ha, very funny. Get this robot doll out of my shop, pleas-". His voice was cut off by the sound of a gun. There was a bullet hole in his head. The doll collected the money, then wandered out of the shop to an abandoned beach hut. It entered through a small hole in the door. "Good work." Said a smooth, but emotionless voice - Damien. He rifled through the money stack with a cold smile.

[User] On top of a water tower, A young man stood there. Adorned in brown, torn trousers, and a bare chest, He watched over the city with a peaceful smile. Bat like wings, and a reptilian tail, with scales matching the color of his deep blue hair, rested behind him. His pair of Emerald eyes' staring at the ocean in the distance, however his expression would quickly change at the sound of a gunshot. Alarmed, Drake stood upright, trying to find the source in the streets below. While he couldn't find an exact source, He would swoop down off of the tower and into the street that the sound had originated to. Landing on the sidewalk, he looked around for any sign of violence or oddity. Finding no trace of a culprit, with only a dead store owner, I'd frown, trying to analyze the scene for any assistance on who committed such a crime.

[Assistant] Damien put the doll on a small shelf, then put the money in his jet black hoodie pocket and headed out. His face was mostly covered by a half-cover balaclava, so only his blood-red eyes shone through. As he was walking down the dusty street he noticed a small child playing with a teddy bear. Giggling subtly to himself, he clicked his fingers, and the bear began to attack the child. He entered a small store, paid for some goods, but not before making all of the toys being sold in the shop swarm the shopkeeper. He scratched his face, only to realise he had some blood on it. Some must have splattered on the doll. Unphased, Damien carried on walking.

[User]
Cambria smiled at the older gentleman and fluffed his pillows. She was careful not to catch his IV pole on anything as she laughed at the joke he told her. A few moments later she walked out into the hallway and one of the new doctors called to her, "Um, hey! Crap, you candystriper girl!"  Cambria looked up at him and followed his requests to move gurneys out of the ER for more incoming injuries.

There had been a big accident on the highway and many people were being rushed into the ER at St. Josephs. Cambria watched as a family was rushed in and there were multiple broken bones. The doctor ordered a portable x-ray machine asap. They thought there was a rib puncturing the little boy's lung. The portable x-ray machines was not working properly. It appeared to have the cord sheared through and couldn't be plugged in. It was the last one in the building and all others were in use. Cambria stood near it and put her hand on it casually supplying it with the juice it needed to work. Cambria smiled as she rolled the portable machine back and sent it to maintenance to be repaired.

She smiled to herself as she put her jacket on and left at the end of her shift.

[Assistant] Bartholomew snores in an alleyway, a system of cardboard boxes set up to resemble a house, yet he wasn't sleeping in it. he was sprawled out in the very back of the alleyway, passed out, snoring as loudly as humanly possible. he had somehow buried himself partially in bear themed clothing, something unusual, but not uncommon for him at least. he was known for good reason as the local loony hobo, because quite frankly, he was. Bartholomew was sleeping peacefully, until a gunshot echoes, being a heroic and smart person, he hides deeper in his bear-themed items. until he hears a child scream, and then proceeds to hide even DEEPER.

[User] upon furthering my investigations of the crime, Drake came across an alleyway with a strange scent to it. Smelling a bear, Drake was curious as to why there was such a wild beast in the middle of the city, hiding too. A forked tongue would escape his lips as he followed the scent to the pile of strange items at the very back of the alleyway. "huh" He muttered as his tail would slide away through some of the rummage, seeing some movement inside.

[Assistant] "I don't have any money!" Bartholomew shouts out to mysterious stranger, continuing to burrow into the bear related merchandise. "Don't shoot me!" he says before his hands shoot out of the pile, in a surrendering fashion.

[User] "uh, no I was actually looking for the source of the gun shot.." I said, confused at the stranger before. However I blew off his odd first impression and smiled. "So uh, whats your name?"

[Assistant] "Oh, i'm Bartholomew, a bear guy." He stick his head out of the pile, a goofy smile on his face. "So you're looking for the source of the gunshot? I didn't know people wanted to get shot in this town, weird." He climbs out of the pile, brushing a teddy bear off his shoulder.

[User] Ayaka had been in the forest, but decided to go to the beach. She figured Arin would be there as he always seems to wait there for her.

[Assistant] Drake looked at the strange, bear obssessed stranger, nodding. "Right right, uh, my name is Drake." His wings would spread out as he looked over his surroundings.

[User] "Nice wings, you into cosplay or something pal?" Bartholomew asks, as he steps fully out of the merchandise pile, nearly tripping over a bear t-shirt. "Anyways, just because you have cool costume wings, doesn't mean you're a vigilante, so don't go after gunshots okay? being shot hurts." he yawns and stretches, taking out a cup of murky liquid from one of the boxes.

[Assistant] He'd look at the figure quizzically, before lowering his wings and laughing at his words. "right right, I'm no vigilante, still. There is a lot of crime happening around here, you know?" I'd have a friendly smile grow on my face as my tail slithered to my side. "Ah well, it doesn't matter. See you later, Bartholomew. My name is drake just so you know." And with those words I took off into the sky in a sudden burst of speed.

[User] I look at the cup of murky water, frown, and then pour the water out. "Either i've been drinking too much 'water', or that guy is definitely NOT human." I shrug, and return to my pile of bear merchandise.

[Assistant] Cambria was walking down the main street in the city but she hated getting off of work at this time of day. She could get home faster she just liked the walk. The temperature was perfect this time of year. She always stayed on edge through certain areas no matter what time of day it was. She could feel the electrical anticipation flowing through her. She held her head high and practically dared anyone to mess with her.

[User] Landing on a nearby roof, Drake sighed to himself as he looked at the city below again. His illuminating, emerald green eyes scanning the streets. His tail would slither back and before behind him and he'd shift his gaze up to the sun.

[Assistant]
Matt adjusted his scope that he drew from his hand and animated for its current use. He continued to do so and look through the scope to get a better view of the magnificent site that was on the other side of the scope. To get a better idea of what's going on he laid down on the roof he was on and begin to draw what took place within the apartment building that was across the street. The half naked man grinned at the site and continued to shift from the scope to his piece of paper that he was drawing on. On the streets below a woman and her child walked passed the building our half naked friend was on. The child so happened to catch a glispe of Matt's scope and looked up seeing the pervert in action.

The boy tugged on his mother shirt and pointed in the direction of the scope. "Mommy! Does Santa usually lay half naked on top of roofs with a telescope!?" He asked sort of shouting. "Shit!" Matt heard the kid quickly barrel rolled off the edge of the roof to were he couldn't be seen. The mother looked up and just shook her head in disapproval and continued to walk with her child. Matt crawled as if he was on a battle field to the edge of the roof. He had to get the rest of his drawing finished. Sadly once he readjusted his scope the woman that was in the apartment was no longer in just a towel and was now fully dressed. "Damn it!" Matt cursed as he pouted like a child that didn't get candy when everyone else did. He reconstructed his scope and laid on the roof for a bit before leaving it.

He walked the streets scratching his beard thinking of his plans for the day. Where could a half naked man spend his time but at the beach or a strip club. Neither of which he decided to go with. Unable to decide he just walked in the direction of the nearest store to buy some booze. If his art peeping show was gonna be screwed by a nosey kid he can still hallucinate that a chick would still want him. A wide grin still present on his face as he continued on his path.

[User] Damien took out the small rag doll he had in his top pocket. He gave a malicious smile under his before sending it jumping down onto the street. The doll had a small blade embedded in the arm. The rag doll, controlled by Damien, wandered up to a man, then slashed the back of his heel. The man screamed and fell to the ground. People crowded round, and Damien slashed some of their feet, and they too fell screaming down. The doll climbed Damien's trousers and entered his pocket, as he ran away laughing maniacally. Causing pain and havoc was the only thing that made him feel emotion. The emotion was pure insane delight.

[Assistant] Hearing the screams Drake fly over to the source of the sound. While hewas too late to catch the culprit he was able to witness the victims all bleeding by their feet. For the first time in a while, a determined rage sparked within him, and he would fly over head to see anyone or thing that was suspicious. Being high in the sky he was able to locate a stranger, oddly dressed, and running off. Squinting a glare, Drake dash forward in the air, and would swoop down in front of the stranger, seeing a doll on his pants. "Pardon me" he said, trying to be polite but there was clear livid emotions in Drake's expression and tone.


[System]
Basics
Nickname/title: Professor Dupree, Dr. Dupree, "The Collector", "Jerry"
Gender: Male
Age: 43
Build/physicality: Seems rather medically/physically frail despite a heavy-set stature. Keep him out of fights, but he is surprisingly flexible and will squeeze through narrow spaces without complaint. 5'5"
Appearance: Linked due to size.

Background

Psychological status: Complains frequently of a sensation of being watched (paranoia?), possible memory repression, frequent nightmares, mild ornithophobia
Quirks, ticks, conditions, sensitivities to the paranormal: Possible sensitivities to the paranormal
Magical potential: Yes, mostly in channeling and summoning (albeit has not attempted anything serious yet)
Personality: Jeremiah is the determined sort, feeling that there must be some greater underlying truth to the universe and that he must only push harder against reality to discover it. While he is much more hesitant to push this determination when others are in need of him, his own safety means little to him in the pursuit of knowledge. He is something of a bookworm, preferring older texts to more recently published works due to a belief that the sudden surge in 'science' has led people to ignoring what should be obvious patterns and truths.
Hometown: Portland, Maine
Education: Bachelor's in Anthropology from Cornell, Doctorate in Philosophy from Johns Hopkins
Occupation: Professor of Anthropology at Miskatonic
Achievements: Co-authored a paper on a near-extinct ritualistic practice occurring in Ireland while at Hopkins
Sexuality: Apparently heterosexual
Religion/philosophy: Rationalist
Marital status: Single
Family status: Parents both deceased, only child
Biographical writeup: Jeremiah Dupree (born as Emilia, before changing his name in his application to Cornell) was born the only child to a sickly mother and an uncaring father. When his mother died, his father, preferring to focus on work rather than the difficulties of child-raising, sent his child to an all-girl boarding school in New York. It was there, with no contact from his father and relatively isolated from the ones who should've been peers, that Jeremiah developed his fascination with philosophy and a desire to understand the universe as a whole. His second year led him to befriending a transfer student, Alice, and through her efforts expanding his social contacts. He never quite lost that obsession however, and used his father's wealth to pursue a bachelor's degree and doctorate. He missed his father's funeral entirely, and did not care much. His time at Cornell allowed him to travel with a professor of anthropology and discover the better hidden cultures of Africa and Europe, and he based his research at Hopkins on one group in Ireland. He even persuaded a professor and other graduate students to assist him in a venture back to observe an annual ritual - where he acquired a mask, notability in the field of research, and a fresh fear of birds. Upon receiving his doctorate, he decided to focus on more local cultures and, through rumors and ghost stories, came to Miskatonic University to teach and to study.

Miscellaneous information

Combative belongings: N/A
Noncombative belongings: A walking stick topped with a deer antler (a gift from a dear friend in his school days), multiple alchemical texts, multiple philosophical texts, a full head mask in the shape of a long-eared owl's head, a wallet containing identification and $20 dollars in cash, and a coin of unknown origin with a hole through it and twine tied through the hole.
Other information (optional):
Theme song (optional):

[User]
Room 125

"The feeling is mutual, Dr. Dupree. For all the time I've seen your faces in my mind, finally seeing you two with my very own eyes makes me feel more..." Faye's voice trailed off, as if at a loss of words for once, though her face remained as calm and emotionless as before. Her eyes, resting first on Jeramiah and then on Emil, blinked once before resting once again on the doctor. "And no, there is no student of yours or the man of Stone that bears the name of Jeremy. But you will find him, oh yes you will, outside of these mortal walls. The Companions shall assemble, but it was only the learned ones that were destined first begin our relation."

The woman rose to her feet, her black hair falling onto her shoulder and partly covering her left side. As if nothing could stop her, she took one step towards Emil. Two steps, and three steps, standing only inches away from him. Her face was no longer emotionless, but caring; a smile forming on her lips as she stared him into his eyes. "If not a leader now, the experience of the Eonic Truth will give you experience. And there is much to be done, yes."

Her gaze shifted over to Jeremiah, her body standing perfectly still while her head moved, like an owl searching the night for prey. "There is not much I can tell you in detail, not here nor now. But what I can tell you is this; Dr. Atkins left clues for you too find, Doctor. You and his old friend, who already carried a small piece of the puzzle now solved. Go back to his office, before The Agent finds It and set the saving of your world in dire peril. It will lead you to a place, a dark and forsaken place that hides many secrets; both above and below the ocean. Your first trial lies there. And take this..."

A small amulet was placed in the hands of Emil, swiftly and without a touch. It was round, metallic of shape and texture, and a blue stone fitting its front side. "You will need it, all of you."

The sound of footsteps could be heard through the metal door, the voice accompanying it undechiferable for the two standing in the cell.

Jeremy Arthur Velera

"A...another suicide?"

Once again the theme of suicide approached Jeremy, but this time it was not of a dear friend, nor something that happened long ago. The man told him it had only just happened the other day before. Did he know about it? In searching him mind fervently for answers to that, he found himself at a loss. He couldn't remember hearing of said suicide, so was it so that it had happened yesterday? The same day his memory has vanished from?

The thought made him sick, more because of the freakish nature of these events happening to him and less about the suicide itself. They happened, of course, be it a sin or not, it still made his skin crawl once he reminded himself that only a few mintues earlier he had told August Dupin about one.

"No...it can't be. I mean, no I can't remember hearing of that, Sir. I was probably at work when it happened, long shifts down at the Garage you see." Jeremy tried to sound normal, appearing as if striking conversation with the stranger when in fact he was scared. "Would it seem strange if I wanted to look? Not at the body, of course, but at where it happened. I mean, I too have appointment here, so it wouldn't be unapproriate to look at the scene when just walking by? We could go together, makes it less of a scene, right?"

Once again Jeremy found himself lying; lying through his teeth for a reason he found disturbing, macabre, filthy and devilish - but he wanted to look, to see if this death was akin to the one of his friend. He needed to look. Perhaps then would his desire to follow that voice in his head vanish?

[Assistant]
Emil

The deep blue stone seemed like a hole in his palm to Emil. He looked through it, rather than at it, but could feel its weight on the skin and knew it was a real tangible object. Focusing his eyes he observed the strange thing more closely along the edges and the surface of the stone. A fetish of some sort? Or a key? It was by no means an object of extraordinary design. In fact, it was quite simple, like one of trinkets street vendors sell in the Orient. But the simplicity is what made it compelling, as it often happens when a man expects in his mind something of importance to be fancy, only to be given the opposite.

Are we to use a submarine? A crew of ladies and gentleman most mysterious and diverse going on an expedition? As the now tender Faye concluded the talk of their coming quest his mind played images, and her voice mingled with and was eventually replaced by visions of his imagination's make: whispering waves, cresting and breaking one on another; pale foam on moonlit black sands and shingle; the quivering surface of the endless ocean; ebony depths; chasms in the ocean's floor where the Kraken sleeps, stirring shells and bones; ruined pillars and antique runes carved in them; hollow citadels of sunken cities and their spires; a call of a solitary leviathan echoing from one statue of a bizarre god to the other. And a siren's song most sonorous.

"What may the purpose of this item be?" Emil asked nothing how Faye's expression indeed was changed: gentler now and... humane, smiling. He turned to the professor like a child being shy in front of a lady. My throat is even more sore now. And my eyes ache. Wait, someone's coming! "I can hear footsteps without the cell. Someone's coming."

He gave Faye another look and quickly put the amulet in the pocket. I've nowhere to run now, Steiner.


[System]
Basics
Alias: Trick
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Alliance: Good
Power: Teleportation – Lexa can teleport herself and whatever she's holding to any location that she can see
Enhanced Healing – Lexa has enhanced durability and heals moderately fast (an injury that would normally take several days to heal instead takes several hours), though this has the side effect of injuries scarring more often than not

Physical Description

Image:

Height: 5'5"
Weight: 111 lbs
Hair: Long, deep red
Eyes: Amber
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Casual – baggy, loose fitting t-shirt and pants, with a pair of old sneakers.
Uniform – A black, lightly armored ensemble with gloves, a jacket, and a mask that covers the bottom half of her face. She also carries a katana, and dyes her hair black to help conceal her identity.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Quiet, aloof, thoughtful, self-blaming, sarcastic, couragious, just, secretly empathetic
Skills/Talents: Karate and aikido black belt, weapons training, parkour, fluent in French and Vietnamese, superior reflexes
Favorites/Likes: Her dog Frank, japanese candies, quiet nights
Most Hated/Dislikes: People who enjoy hurting others
Goals/Ambitions: To help as many people as she can
Strengths: Resourceful, driven, takes no shit
Weaknesses: Brooding, quick to blame herself, stand-offish
Fears: Watching someone die when she could've helped

Additional Notes: Her parents and little brother died in a house robbery gone wrong eight months ago. Now she lives in an apartment by herself with an old one-eyed dog she picked up from the pound named Frank. Never been kissed. Has a day job working at a bookstore.

[User]
Lexa didn't look at him as she picked up small box of strawberries. Her dog liked strawberries. She should get him some.

(She really shouldn't with their limited funds, but Lexa's biggest weakness was for her dog.)

"Still here, aren't I?" She spoke with her usual dryness, but there was a soft humor to her voice that betrayed her ease. They'd settled into an odd sort of comfort – an intimacy, almost. Jack could be a handful, but no more than any other eccentric roommate. He didn't make any moves on her, he didn't mess with her stuff, he was good to her dog, and he wasn't committing any felonies. All in all, a stunning improvement.

She put the strawberries in the basket and handed a few bills to the seller before moving on, Jack at her side.

The revelation that she was… that she came from the same place that he did… well, Lexa couldn't say she was comfortable with it yet. It was like a puzzle piece she'd been missing her entire life had finally been put into place, but the picture it formed was something she didn't know if she could stomach. She'd been a science experiment. Manipulated and tortured and then hidden away.

She hadn't told Jack yet. She didn't know if she ever would. But there was a surprising comfort in knowing that there was someone like her. Someone connected to her past, as gruesome as it apparently was. Even if that someone was a wanted criminal.

Well. He was trying.

"Keep it up and who knows, maybe–"

Her quip was cut off by the feeling of something metallic and round pressed into her spine. Lexa froze.

"Hello there, darlings." A greasy voice murmured in her ear. Long fingers curled over her shoulder. Lexa stood frozen in the middle of the walkway, gun still against her back.

Well, shit.

"Bit of a snoozetown, in'nit? I really don't see the appeal of shackin' up here. But I guess you won't be for much longer, ay? You've got an appointment scheduled for this afternoon."

Lexa had really hoped this hideout would've lasted longer than two goddamn weeks. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, looking at the family standing in front of her. If she teleported away, they got shot. She teleported with him, she got shot in the spine and revealed herself in front of this market. She turned and fought, more people likely got caught in the crossfire. All her options were too messy to be worth it.

Goddamn farmers markets. Why were they always so crowded?

Her eyes flicked up to Jack.

"Don't," came a simple command.

[Assistant]
Jack was listening to her eagerly awaiting for what she was going to say about his good behavior. He noticed the man come up behind her and press something to her back. His red eyes narrowed as the slime bag spoke quietly to them both. "Don't" Was all Lexa said to Jack. A single move from either of them and anyone could be hurt, civilians, or the two of them. Jack's hands balled into fists. He didn't care as much about the civilians as Lexa did, but he wanted to keep her around, so he controlled himself. However, that didn't mean there was nothing he could do. The white haired young man was fast, almost as fast as Lexa's teleportation. He could easily move behind the enemy and snap his neck. That wouldn't do either.

"Hm..." Jack grinned deviously, not a second passed and he was behind the enemy with the gun. He was almost pressed against the enemy's back. with his body. "You know." He whispered into the gunman's ear with a dark tone. "I've never tried human alchemy before. Do you want to see if we can transmute your skin into spiders? Or snakes? All it takes is one touch."

"Y-you wouldn't, that would kill me in front of all these people, you wouldn't want to reveal yourself would you?"

"No, of course not. However." Jack gently placed his hand on the gunman's shoulder and whispered quieter so Lex couldn't hear him. "If you don't lower your gun and run, very fast, away from here. I will attempt to turn you inside out with my powers and since I've never tried before, I'm not quite sure what will happen to you, friend. So I suggest you get out of here and never bother us again." Jack's voice was ominous and threatening.

The enemy was trembling now, in fear. He did not want to die and wasn't sure if this guy was telling the truth about killing him.

"One last thing, who are you working for? Shirley? it's that buttfuck isn't it?"

"I-I can't say, he'll kill me."

"People are beginning to stare, you will not ruin this for Lex and I. Tell me, who are you working for, no one can kill you more harshly than me, friend. Just tell me the truth and I'll let you go."

"...J-Jo-"

Something flew through the air from one of the nearby buildings and struck the man in the head. He crumbled to the ground, the gun clattered as it fell from his hand. Jack gasped and stared at the thing that had hit the man. People all around them began to scream and run away, including the shop keeps. With gritted teeth, Jack knelt down and removed the playing card from the side of the man's head, blood spewed out. His eyes widened as he flipped the card over and saw which one is was. "Time to move!"

[User]
Lexa didn't need to be told twice. In a swift move she knelt down, grabbing the gun in one hand and Jack's arm in the other. She took off, weaving through the frantic crowd to a now abandoned stall of potted flowers. Lexa ducked under it, eyes aimed skyward. Once they were fully under the table and out of sight of the crowd they snapped out of existence.

Lexa and Jack reappeared an instant later on the roof of a building. If they were being targeted they needed to stay away from anyone that might get hurt. She threw the gun down on the flat roof with a clatter.

"No-killing rule is suspended. Civilians are off limits." Her words were short and clipped as her eyes scanned the area. She was tired of being hunted. What happened to the good old days when she just showed up to a crime scene and kicked ass?

Christ, her life had gotten odd if those were the good old days.

Lexa was regretting leaving her sword at home. (What was she supposed to do? Bring it to a farmer's market?) But at least she still had two blackbelts, superpowers, and a semi-reformed homicidal madman on her side. Considering her latest foes, that apparently wasn't anything special. But at least it evened the playing field a bit.

Her eyes flashed gold when they landed on a figure on a far roof. Found you. It seemed they'd been found, too. The figure's arm cocked back and released, sending something small and razor sharp flying towards them. Lexa, still holding Jack's arm, teleported them to another roof, a stone structure between them and the assailant.

"You wanna tell me what this one does?" Lexa really wasn't interested in a rerun of the last fight she'd had with Jack's card buddies.

[Assistant]
"No-killing rule is suspended..." Jack heard her words, but couldn't quite process them. Although they were words he'd almost longed to hear, his mind was elsewhere. She teleported them out of the way as another card flew toward them. He held the first card loosely in his hand still. Joker... "You wanna tell me what this one does?" Lexa questioned Jack. This time he hadn't heard her at all.

Jack, seemingly fearless Jack, was actually terrified of Joker. He wasn't like the others. He was the first card experiment but was the last to escape. Jack and Ace had agreed that Joker was far too dangerous to be unleashed so they left him behind. It would seem, someone had let him go. Undoubtedly it was Queen. Hopefully Joker wasn't still upset that he had been left to rot. But then, why else would he be trying to kill Jack and Lex?

Joker had had the worst time in the project, he was the first and was there the longest, so he was the one who had the worst stuff done to him. He had lost every ounce of sanity he had in there and couldn't feel anything at all, not mentally or physically, by the end of it.

"Wh-what?" Jack spoke to Lexa in a small, stuttering voice that mirrored his fear. "Lex, I told you we have to get out of here, we can't fight this guy."

If he's here, Queen isn't far.

Then there was that voice... It was right behind him. A terrifying, sadistic sounding voice. "What's the matter, Jackie boy? You're not excited to see a friend from the good ol' days?"

Jack's eyes widened, he froze. What's the matter with you? You're not afraid of anything. C'mon. get it together. He turned quickly and slashed with the card in his hand. Joker was behind Jack in a second, he grabbed him in a headlock with a razor sharp card at his throat. "Ohhh how I've missed you."

Jack winced as the card cut into his neck slightly. "Lex. Get the hell out of here!!"

[User]
The sharp note in Jack's voice gave Lexa pause. She looked at him when she realized what it was: panic. Jack was scared. She'd never seen him scared before.

Before she could process this, a cartoonish man had Jack in a headlock, the card pressing into the skin of his throat.

Jack yelled at her to run. But she didn't hear him. Not really. Because running without him – leaving him to this man, for whatever reason wasn't an option. Just like letting him die hadn't been an option two weeks ago.

Lexa steeled herself, muscles tense, ready to react.

"You can drop him or I can separate your top half from your bottom."

[Assistant]
Joker laughed casually, as if what was going on wasn't an intense situation. Jack stood tense, with his teeth clenched, blood ran down his neck from the card that dug into his neck slightly. Lexa wasn't listening, she wasn't getting out of there. Well, only one thing to do before Queen showed up. He reached up and with all his strength, pulled Joker's arm from his neck. But only a bit. In a reckless moment he grabbed the razor sharp card, cutting his hand. "Check mate, clown." The card in Joker's hand morphed into something new, something entirely different. A Barbie doll, one Jack had seen in a toy store once a while back. Its blonde head of hair swayed back and forth.

"Hah!" Jack ducked and rolled away from Joker. Once he was back on his feet and at Lexa's side he grinned. "Shove it up your arse, you sonovabitch." Before he could put his hands on his hips and laugh hysterically, his eyes narrowed and he turned quickly. A mallet was raised and ready to be swung at him and Lex. "Ah ah ah." The young man reached up and placed his hand on the mallet.

"Nooo!! Don't touch!" The crazed woman holding the mallet Spartan kicked Jack away from her and her precious mallet.

Jack stumbled back, groaning slightly as he got his footing. "Ughh. Clowns."


[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Nationality: Outreman, previously citizen of Angjusk

Occupation: Deputy head of department - Cradle Research & Development

Cybernetics:
* Cradle quick-access implant - Allows access to and from the Cradle environment without additional hardware. This advanced module also reduces fatigue caused by the process, allowing power users multiple entries in a single day.
* Tier 7c 'Cradle Builder' suite - Grants access to the programs created specifically for 'terraforming' the Cradle. Tier 7 out of 20 allows Freyr to auto-build a variety of specialised equipment and propose-build mid level structures.
* Ilyes Brand communication and productivity module - Standard implant for access to Outremer's communications network. Also integrates with many well known productivity tools like a personal assistant, as well as more bespoke scientific tools.

Backstory:
Freyr was born on Angjusk, an older colony than Outremer that was renowned for its military materiel, particularly star ships.

Her mother was an innovations tsar assigned by the government to a consortium of the planet's largest ship manufacturers. During most of Freyr's childhood, her mother's sole task was making sure Angjusk battle fleets were the best money could buy in the Diaspora.

Before she was born, her father owned and operated a series of protein farms across Angjusk. After a chance encounter at a lobby meeting, he was headhunted to co-ordinate the military industrial complex's entire food supply chain. He also met his future wife, as it was Freyr's mother who had recommended him for the job on that fateful day in the lobby.

Freyr was born five years later. Her early life was a whirlwind of schooling, snatches of intimacy with her parents (when they weren't busy) and extended periods with friends. She discovered a natural capacity for learning and excelled in her studies. So much so that she received offers from universities across the Diaspora to come and develop with them.

Her mother and father both pressured her to consider diplomas like Interplanetary Relations or Agrarian Policy. However Freyr was not interested in pursuing a career in politics. Angjusk has been involved in at least a dozen small conflicts since Freyr had been born. She had seen how politicians would destroy entire cultures for the sake of influence, and wanted none of it.

In her first act of defiance, Freyr accepted a position at a school in Babylon, the main city of a far away frontier colony called Outremer. Driven more by the desire to have time away from her planet than by the subjects on offer, she researched what Outremer was known for. It was here that she first discovered the object powering this section of the Diaspora - the Cradle.

She quickly became obsessed with its untapped potential and seemingly unknowable past. She decided to pursue Xenobiology and Machine Intelligence as her subjects of interest, voraciously consuming the knowledge gathered so far on the Cradle.

It was here at the university that she met her future partner, David, who was studying art history. Isolated from her family and friends, alone on a strange planet, Freyr was glad of his unassuming company and kindness. They grew very close over the course of their degrees, and moved in together after graduation. Their daughter Amy was born a few years later.

After Uni, Freyr was picked up by an Outremer administration outreach team and placed in a government career fast lane. Her obsession with the Cradle made her an obvious choice for the Cradle Research & Development department. Once there, she quickly proved herself capable. Several breakthroughs in her first five years meant she was allowed to hand select a team of dynamic young individuals to help pursue her work. A couple more catapulted her into a deputy head of department role, to the ire of some of it's older and more entrenched members.

It was on her 34th birthday that the Cradle abducted her family. It had been acting strangely for weeks prior, rolling back years of terraforming. Freyr had been working round the clock to figure out why, practically living at her field office by the Border. David had bought sweet treats and had Amy with her.

What can only be described as creatures emerged from beyond the Border and overran the camp. A panic spread through the mostly unarmed workers, leading many to flee for their lives. Freyr's last memory of her family was being propelled across the camp by one of the creatures. She could only watch from her position immobile on the floor as they carried off her husband and little girl.

Security forces conducted a sweep of the immediate area beyond the Border, but found no sign of them. So Freyr began looking by herself as soon as her broken bones were reconstructed. Months went by. Her work stopped and her mental health deteriorated. Eventually she was placed on sick leave and her access revoked, after she attempted to use her influence to organise an armed excursion deep into the uncontrolled zone.

[User]
Chapter 2 - Perfidious Dark
She was back in the Cradle. Everything around her was wrapped in night, a perfidious dark, crisscrossed with purple skeins on the walls, ceiling and floor. She looked down at her hands; they were covered in black, bristling algae. It crept up her body, toothy shoots wrapping around her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, and algae sprouted from in there too, curling around her lips and blocking her nose.

"Mummy?" A small, thin voice called from the dark. She looked up, unable to breathe but still searching for her daughter. The algae crawled past her eyelids and wriggled under her eyes. She couldn't blink. "Freyr, where are you?" A man's voice called, far away. She called back with every fibre of her being, but could only manage a muffled hum, deep within her throat. Something in the darkness chuckled.

A pale human face, one she remembered, but with black eyes and a gaping black hole for a mouth, appeared from the dark in front of her. "I can seeeee youuuu." It sang, it's voice wet and somehow dead. She screamed anew. The face flew toward her, on the end of a giant insect creature. It's mouth grew wider and long, sharp teeth appeared that filled her vision as the algae covered her eyes-

Freyr thrashed around, screaming into her pillow until she was finally awake and her covers lay on the floor. She heard clattering and looked around just as Masgard, the lawyer from yesterday, and four guards with guns burst into her bedroom. "Dr Lang!" Masgard shouted, then he surveyed the look on Freyr's face and the abandoned covers and realised what had happened. "Bad dream?" He asked. Freyr nodded, grabbing the covers back up to drape them over herself. "Clear." Officers began calling from all corners of the apartment, including in the bedroom. "Ok, everyone out please! I need to talk to my client. I'll let you get dressed, Dr Lang. Sorry for the disturbance; we thought someone was trying to kill you." Masgard grinned sheepishly.

Once everyone had left her bedroom, Freyr quickly changed from her night clothes into some sturdy, comfortable trousers, her work boots & gloves, and a black tank top. She rejoined the living room, where Masgard was waiting with two takeaway cups and a large paper bag. "I brought some pastries and something hot to drink." Freyr was actually starving after only eating a small part of her dinner, so thanked him and tucked in. "So, i have news from the Cradle." Masgard began after they'd each eaten a pastry. He sat across the breakfast bar from her, his hands clasped around his cup of tea. Freyr looked up. "What's that?" She said after politely swallowing what was in her mouth at the time.

"This is classified top secret. You Know Who-..." Masgard tapped just below his right eye, taking Freyr instantly back to the mysterious man with the augmented eyes. "...-wanted to bring you back into the Cradle personally to hear this, but i persuaded him you needed a little time away from that place." Freyr smiled gratefully. "Thank you, i appreciate that. After last night i…definitely need some time to decompress." She grabbed the canister of pills that were still sitting on the counter, and took one with her tea.

"So..." Masgard leaned forward, drawing Freyr in with him. "They sent a team back beyond the Border last night, to investigate the equipment that abomination with the human face was playing with. They found some advanced Rothian-tech communications array, with an activity log. It seems the creature used a testing backdoor to commandeer several comms arrays here, in real-world Babylon. It sent several encrypted bursts to coordinates on the surface of Rothia, the Rothians' homeworld." Freyr couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you telling me that thing was trying to talk to someone, light years away?" Masgard shrugged. "I'm not an expert, but those are the facts so far, yes." Freyr took a big sip of her tea, deep in thought.

[Assistant]
Depite having been up late into the night, Vreta still had no choice but to start his morning early. The events of the previous day had generated enough paperwork and meetings to fill most of his morning. Though, the night had, at the very least, dealt with his wounds. The holes that had been melted through his flesh were nowhere to be seen once he removed his bandages. The new scales that had grown over them were immaculate, with not so much as a scar to remind him of his ordeal. As well, his implants' readout of his current vitals showed no remains of his internal injuries. The nanites that had flooded his body had worked quickly to mend him. Once their task was complete, the majority of his nanites returned to a dormant state, while the excess he had been injected with had recycled themselves into raw materials.

On the insistence of the local police, Vreta gave his statement just after having a rather sizable breakfast. Fortunately, the police were willing to come to the embassy to speak with him, else there would have been more delays with arranging an escort for him. When speaking with the Humans about the attack, Vreta kept his responses straightforward and fact-oriented. He provided them with a copy of his recording of the attack, and for any questions he answered, he tended to just explain what happened in that recording. Altogether, he made sure that any word he gave on record to the Outremer government could not be disputed for its accuracy.

It was not until Vreta was able to get a secure, superluminal comms line back to his superiors on Rothia that he started to give his own judgment on the events of the previous day, both in the Cradle and out. In his opinion, there were opportunities now that the Rothians could not afford to waste if they wanted to uncover the mysteries of the Humans' prized Cradle. In Vreta's opinion, the attacks by the creatures in the Cradle showed that Outremer's government did not have as firm of control over the Cradle as they would like their people to believe. He could not know if this was a new development, or if attacks like this had occurred in the past and subsequently been swept under the rug. However, the fact that so much of Outremer's administration and organization was tied to the Cradle made them especially vulnerable to any problems with it. The fact that Vreta had seen this might have been a motivation for the attack in the park. Most certainly, Vreta did not believe it was Skinners that were responsible for the attempt on his life. Vreta had seen firsthand that the Cradle was fighting back against the Humans. That was a vulnerability that the Rothians could leverage, so the attack could have been motivated by a desire to prevent Vreta from sharing what he had learned. The fact that he had survived, though, made matters all that much worse for the Humans. Unless their government was willing to throw their agent to the wolves and brand her a terrorist, they had compelling evidence that there was a government-sponsored attempt on a Rothian citizen's life. That alone could be a justification for war, but even if his people did not want to resort to violence, it could also motivate damaging sanctions to the Outremer economy.

What Vreta had not expected was that the Humans themselves would be the one to call a meeting. Rothian diplomats had already been preparing to demand a meeting with Human officials to discuss the previous day's events, but before that demand could be made, they were sent a request for a meeting with the apparent purpose of discussing the Cradle. It was not a move that Vreta would have expected, given their previous patterns of behavior, which made him wonder if there was something more he did not know? In any case, due to his personal experience with the attacks in the Cradle, the Rothian representatives had requested his presence at the meeting. Whatever the Humans' motivations, Vreta would be able to see them in person.


[System]
Position: White House Chief of Staff
Age: 43
Sex: Male
Physical Description:The first thing one notices, especially in a clean cut crew like a Republican administration, is that Mike Gerard, AJ Shepard's Chief of Staff, wears a beard, and it's a shade lighter and slightly redder than his hair. He has a flair for navy suits with soft shoulders, fitted slim, over the typical gray and black of the WH, and they're paired with a burgundy, usually, foulard tie. His smartwatch is worn, idiosyncratically, on the underside of his wrist. He swears he buys off the rack, and he might, the motherfucker.

Brief Bio:Born in Woburn, Mass, Gerard came from a family of striving (lace-curtain) types that pushed their kid forward. His parents paid for the Malden Catholic tuition; mom, a social worker, and dad, an electrician, made the necessary arrangements for Mike and his two sisters, Liz and Pat, to attend without really complaining about it. But Dad loved that Mike played hockey for Malden.

Fast forward to Dartmouth College, hockey, history, qualitative social sciences, which is to say a confluence of geography, psychology, math and all sorts of complicated shit. College was busy; ROTC helped pay the tuition his parents couldn't. Instead of a study abroad, which he could ill afford, he interned for credit in Ted Kennedy's office.

Fast forward to Afghanistan, Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) 556 operating in the Northwestern part of Afghanistan. Multiple deployments through 2007 when a grenade blast does damage to his vision and leaves him with recurring neurological damage that causes migraines. He also lost a piece of his right leg, which required a prosthesis. Purple Heart, Distinguished Service Cross. He left the service on a medical discharge at the rank of Captain. He joined Teddy Kennedy's staff, then over to John Kerry's staff when Teddy passes. As a Kerry staffer, he made the transition from staff at the Senate to staff at the State Department until 2016, when he ran for Congress in Massachusetts.

Fast Forward to the House, 5th Massachusetts when the Senate seat comes open and someone needs to take it in a special election. The guy the GOP put in there, trying to get another shot at a seat, was steamrolled, in a campaign that got the messaging right, even in a midterm where a Democratic president was not doing so well.

Fast Forward to three days after AJ becomes the president-elect. Mike gets a call and takes the meeting out of respect; they'd always had an amiable relationship in the Senate and a good vibe in collaboration across the aisle. Mike comes out of that meeting looking like a ghost grabbed his balls. Then, to the wonderment of the press, he gives a terse statement along with AJ to the effect that he has accepted the post of White House Chief of Staff, and duty to country comes first. The press freaks, but they have no idea, not yet.

Issues/Agenda:Lots of Republican operatives are wondering what the fuck the Democratic golden boy of the senate is suddenly doing as AJ Shepard's chief of staff. He's not the only cabinet member in there that doesn't pass the litmus test. The thing is, Mike Gerard is a Massachusetts liberal. On criminal justice reform, he's soft. On education, he wants to spend too much. The NRA has a special place in hell that is reserved for veterans that speak against them.

On the environment, for example, he is a big fan of energy technology, which benefits his state, which does tech and renewable energy, especially piloting offshore wind in partnership with industry big boys -- and he was instrumental in moving legislation through to that effect in the Senate with surprising support on both sides. He had to concede things to the oil boys to get it, and so he did it. The 2020 Renewable Resources Act (RRA) balanced a lot of different concerns and he still brought the bacon through to Massachusetts; it took one and a half years of back and forth to get the support for it, and it was a coup, really stepping into Teddy's old shoes.

On foreign policy, he believes in engagement, which means that use of force has a place on his spectrum. In this regard, he is often accused of being a sellout or soft, depending on who is commenting. He has a complex criteria for use of military action, but he's been in favor of eliminating terrorists with drone strikes, though he has concerns about civilian casualties. He is, perhaps as a result of having dealt with local forces in Afghanistan and Iraq, wary of alliances with the wrong people. The Arab Spring had an impact on him too -- he felt the US position was watered down by established interests. The same interests will seek to establish position with the aliens. US thinking on policy will have to shift radically to questions they'd never considered before - interstellar tech transfers, colonization...and if the aliens decide to divide and conquer the nations of Earth.

Mike is looking at what needs to happen to protect Humanity, and thinks the way forward is through the UN. His job, as Chief of Staff, is no less than to keep this administration on task with the threat/opportunity of the aliens.

And so much of this is less important than it was, but some of it will be more important than ever, as this administration grapples with the aliens and all the consequences of first contact. His driving reason for joining this White House is to make sure that the opportunities from alien contact benefit the nation at large, and avoiding a haves/have nots scenario as much as possible. In this sense, he is informed by the Catholic values of social justice, and Teddy Kennedy rubbed off on him here. Aliens are a danger, but they're also an incredible potential for positive social change.

Notes:Married, with two kids. His wife, Sarah, is notable for her USAID work and subsequent work on behalf of Medicins Sans Frontieres in a support and management role. She's also a feminist author and a frequent target of a certain type of televangelist. The tinfoil hat wearers also have a field day; he's Catholic, she's Jewish and all possible conspiracy angles get covered.

[User]
"Yeah, we could threaten the Russian about another sanction coming from us," Hyo murmured to himself as the Vice President making her points clear from across the table. But to be true, the first part of the meeting doesn't really concern him. After all, it is their expertise. And it is better to leave the matter to the master, despite the fact that he is also one of the best in his work.

Looking to the vacant seat next to him, where Raymond Rose usually seated comfortably with a lukewarm cup of coffee in hand, a sense of nostalgia come across Hyo's mind. But there wasn't that much to remember about. Yes, they were colleagues. Yes, they are co-workers that prefer to exchange some unlaughable jokes during pass time. And sometimes, they do give others favors in supporting each other bills when addressing the House. But that is that. Ain't no decades of friendships nor comrades in the political battlefield. Just an acquaintance to each other.

But still, a question is needed to put forth, why did Raymond do that? It has only been a few months in and already a person is out? Hyo knew he wouldn't buy that. For surely, nobody would be sacrificing their clean status because of something like this. Unless it is because of someone bribe him which required an investigation from the FIU (Financial Intelligence Unit). But the current situation requires more undivided attention from Hyo. After all, this is not only about Ray but the whole department itself. And as a matter of fact, it is reasonably difficult to interfere the nation's economy without dabbing into the Department of Commerce's specialties, which would make him look like a power hungry politician if do so.

"Yes. Don't be too worried about the Russian. The fact is that they are more dependent on us than we to them on import and export speak for itself. So, I suppose another sanction threat would be enough to stop the Russian from at bringing this to the table. For the Chinese, I will try to think of a solution about this…"

Hyo stopped, seemingly trying to construct his next line while sipping the cold coffee.

"As I was saying, I will try doing my best with the Chinese. But it is not within my power to promote domestic commerce. And there are only two solutions that I see, we could consider another candidate. Or we could separate it up in half, half goes to the Department of Labor and the rest for the Treasury."

For Hyo, it was a bold move. Of course, he knew the proposal would likely to never get past the Lower House, he wasn't betting on it. Actually, if that bill gets to the President's table, there is a more severe problem to fix than just deleting the Secretary of Commerce out of the presidential succession line. No, his reason was comparatively simple. It was just a warning shot, a reminder for any people in this room to not fiddling with their personal interests during these times. Because for Hyo, what if the President heard the suggestion from the Vice President and actually choose the person she handpicked. There would be groups in this room. And although that chance is slim, he would prefer not taking that road or any roads with the same mindset.

"Well, while we are still on the discussion of the economy, I had recently sent a bill to amend the Dodd-Frank Act. As you all know, after the President's message, 5 banks declared its failure and a few minor strikes happened. The 5 banks were all community banks with each asset are less than 50 million dollars. Fortunately, we found another a bank that would gladly take all deposits of three. The others two? Not so successful. Of course, what ensured has been paid off. But about 9000 to 11000 people were affected quite heavily. So it would really help me if you guys can put a nice word when the amended version gets propose into the Lower and Upper House. "

[Assistant]
"I'll do what I can," Bill said with a nod towards Hyo. "I golf with the House Banking Committee Chairman. I'll whisper sweet nothings into his ear the next time we're on the links."

Bill suddenly remembered that he hadn't golfed since... well, since he was informed about the alien crisis. As much fun as it was for him, who had the time any more?

"But back to Russia," he said with a glance towards the veep. "Madam Vice President, you raise some good points. Sweden is willing to share their communications with us and have given us snippets once things have been translated. So far it's basic questions about our planet and people, how old we are and if we're carbon-based. Shannon Volgel is our ambassador over there and she's been instructed to treat the Swedes with kid gloves. They're responding well to that, less so with Russia's more forceful approach. They're already wary and I'm afraid if we go along with the Kremlin, they may cut us both off and control the conversation entirely. Things get messy when that happens."