Hound smelled blood and fire walk into the bar. He watched as the heavily modified Sykrott, took his seat. Ears perked up and forward, Hound saw him as a predator and would keep ear and nose on him while he was near.

Colin noticed Hound tense up, and who had caused it. He had seen a Sykrott before, on Wiklow, a Belocorp merc. He smoothed down the hairs on Hound's neck and signaled the bartending droid over. He wasn't sure what functions this droid had access to. Was he just a bevservice unit? Or did he run the full gammut of barkeep, news, currency exchange, advice? "Barkeep, I'd like to know if you have heard of anyone seeking a ship's engineer or any mechanic openings?" The Nova Barkeep Unit designated "COACH", whirred and chimed " Listing accepted, I'll get back to you, can I get you anything,bud? The "bud" seemed so forced and sterile," Just two waters i guess, one in a bowl." He beeped in what Colin assumed was disgust.

Colin eyed the augmented Sykrott again and images of that merc came back to him. Backhanding a young girl who he thought was a Flotilla supporter. Colin moved his gaze away. He wanted to put Wiklow all those lightyears behind him.

"Not in this part of the slums. Slugs are cheaper than cells for a laser weapon. Replacement parts cost less. There's just not as much market for it." Marco said. He'd produced a small kettle and hot plate from beneath the counter, and had started some water boiling. From a different shelf, he got some rolling paper, deftly twisting it into an Ecetopian cigarette. A pair of couches flanked a coffee table, and Marco took a seat in one of them.

"So you can't take me to see the Mogul? I thought so." He said, lighting it and taking a hit, before passing it to Giggles. "I guess I should have figured. I'd probably get killed trying anyways, haha." He chuckled. He wasn't feeling a whole lot. He'd only done it once before now, and it had done very little to him. "Oh, by the way. I'm Marco." He said to Giggles, getting up and moving the hot water to the teapot, along with a few bags of tea. He laid a pair of ornate cups on the table. They were beautifully designed, and looked very old. This was clearly a man who attached great ceremony to tea.

"I sorta just want to get off this planet. It's kinda a dump." He said, pouring Giggles a cup, then taking one for himself. He used the sugar tongs to plunk 1...2...3...4...5...6...7 sugar cubes into his cup, before sipping. It was Ecetopian breakfast tea. The smell of exotic spices mixed with the scent of gunpowder in the room. "They don't care about anything that goes on in the slums." He said to Giggles when he mentioned the police. "Frixion Prime is a shithole. And that travel ban has you stuck here, huh? Helluva vacation." He looked out the window, draining his teacup and the sugary sludge that had congealed at the bottom. "Too bad I don't have a ship. It'd suck to stay here my whole life. I've always wanted to see Esetopia." He had poured himself another cup, and was putting even more sugar into it.

Giggles gave the durry a look and raised an eyebrow. It hung from his fingers with the balance of a seasoned smoker, but he didn't raise it to his lips.

At least Valentine seemed to have calmed from his bar-crawling mood. "Eh. It's not the worst." Rural communities could get as bad as any hub, and there were dark places in Giggles's memory of travels. "I could stay here if I had to. No one's tailing me. There's work." Work to be done, not work to get paid for. A clean slate was just another opportunity to start scrawling plans. "Wouldn't mind leaving either. Freedom's a beautiful thing."

Giggles took a sip of the tea, realised how much sugar was in it, took another few. "If I had a ship, I'd take it to the Myrlian Belt. They say there's chaos out there. Ecetopia's nice..." More than nice. A paradise that didn't need or deserve the likes of Giggles. "...But I just got outta there and I can't go back for a while."

"Speaking of." He raised the cigarette, too awkward to be apologetic. "You can't smoke this, you know. It's waterweed. I... Kinda drowned in a pond and found it in my hair." He frowned at it. "Can't guarantee it won't get you high, though. Fuckin' pixies." Giggles didn't elaborate.

---

Mal'akuth swirled the whiskey in his glass, listening to the chinking of the ice cubes, breathing in the aroma of synthetic conception. Already the worries of his day were beginning to fade, even before the first taste. Just watching its gentle vortex was hypnotizing enough. It was his one vice and he intended to make a virtue of it, savour it, not race to the bottom of the bottle like he often had after a days work. When the liquid settled he brought it to his weather-cracked lips and let the amber fluid sit in his mouth a while before swallowing. He closed his eyes, dwelling only on the flavour. The soft amber colour belied a harsh taste but after years of forcing down the metallic consistency of blood and death, the whiskey's taste was lost to sapor.

For the most part he now ignored the din of conversation emanating throughout the bar. After the supposed revolutionaries left, he found no interest in listening to anymore drunken gossip. How could he when a group of idiots just signed their own death sentences right in front of him? Did they know the danger they were in? Did they not realize that anyone could be listening? The bartending droid? The bar's patrons? Perhaps that a camera and microphone may have picked up their conversation?

Bah, but who was he fooling. He was no less a criminal then they were, if not more. While they posed a chance at survival, he had little too none. He was living on borrowed time. Amassing wealth that had no value in the grave. He was a dead-man walking. That he had been for the majority of his life.

A sudden shift in the rooms mood caught the attention of the brooding Sykrott. It was an animalistic presence, one better suited for the wild rather than a bar. Mal'akuth's eyes jumped from patron to patron, searching out the anomaly, but none returned positive.

It wasn't until his eyes caught those of another, to which it quickly turned away, that he found his culprit. Mal'akuth snorted. Another rookie thrust into the impossible role of taking him in or out. He felt for the youngster. He would die trying. Mal'akuth glanced at the dog at the boy's feet. It's eyes refused to leave his person. It was challenging him, daring him to make a move at his master, yet wary of his power. The animalistic presence.

Dog's were such stupid creatures. Loyal to fault. Weaknesses and death through domestication, such was the fate of "Man's Best Friend".

Mal'akuth, no longer interested in his brink, downed it in own go, and made headway for the boy. He wanted a word with him before the next most likely scenario played out.

"Unless you have an R&D team, you're stuck flipping burgers or doing mercenary work around here." Marco said, pouring himself another cup of tea. He took the cigarette, taking another hit. "If you're in Ecetopia, odds are any vegetable matter can mess you up. Frikkin wizards." He said, getting up and heading behind a door marked "Employees Only." When he returned, he had a plate and some chocolate cake. "I'm starved. Are you hugnry?" He asked, taking out a big, serrated knife and cutting himself a slice.

"But you might be right, I'm not feeling anything." He said, before digging into the cake. "You've been to Ecetopia?" He asked. Space travel had always fascinated him, but he'd never left Frixion in his entire life. "What happened to your ship? Or is it the travel ban?" He hadn't really been following it. Mostly Marco had been stressing out over bills. He had no idea how hard it would be to get past the blockade. Probably very, very hard. On the other hand, once his father's shop went belly up, Marco wasn't sure he had much prospect on Frixion Prime, either.

"My-?" For a moment Giggles looked puzzled, then he sprayed tea over a disassembled rifle. The laughter slumped him over a counter, where he stayed for a while. "My ship! Dude! Fffff-" He collapsed again. "Dude, I got here in a wetsuit and a crate of live carp. Turns out my body's about as dense as a one-to-one mix of river and fish. Customs didn't notice a damn thing. Oh geez my sides." Giggles's laughter wasn't giggly, it had to be said. Mostly fading wheezes and cackles.

Eventually he picked himself up. "My ship," he repeated, shaking out the last of it. "Yeah, just got back, like I said." Giggles sobered up quickly. His exploits over the last few months weren't something he was keen to make into conversation. "I'll help myself to that, thanks. Another thing I'll help myself to is this von Goethe fully automatic."

Giggles laid out the compact submachine gun, checking its empty magazine and grip. There it was engraved on the side, the four word von Goethe trademark: 'Man Muß Auch Tun'.

It is not enough to want, saith the poet, echoed Giggles in his head. One must also do.

"Yeah. Again, I can't pay you." And I don't want to mug you, ran the rest of the words unspoken. Definitely not in a gun shop. "But I'm good at getting people places. Carp box and all. If you have plans for..." Giggles shrugged awkwardly at the failing store. "I can help set you up."

Colin took a sip of the cold, tap water and noticed Hound wasn't lapping at his bowl as usual. He was still stoic and staring at the Sykrott, who was now making a his way towards him, striding with purpose on bionic limbs. Saints preserve us! Lucky man am I! We are on this planet for less then a day, and I've somehow pissed off the biggest Mother Hubbard in this Pub. Colin put is glass down slowly and stared at the bar. With his free hand he shifted his rucksack and felt his All Purpose Tool shift in the bag. Some good that will do, he is probably strapped to the gills and I'm brandishing a wee ball peen! Colin slid off the barstool, "Thank ye, barkeep." and clicked his tongue twice, that was all Hound needed to hop off the barstool and fall in step beside him. Colin, with Hound by his side, made a brisk pace for the door.

Hound hear Colin's summons and could tell what he was thinking. He could hear Colin's raised heart rate, could smell his sweat. He lept to his side and followed his lead. This Upright Beast had taken offense to us entering his territory and we were to take drink elsewhere. Hound didn't like that Colin was running, but he knew he was smart and had gotten them out of more dangerous positions before.

Marco patiently waited, sipping the tea as he watched Giggles chortle. He took another hit from the cigarette. While the ginger laughed, Marco took out a cloth and wiped the tea off of the rifle. Likewise, he didn't bat an eye as he watched Giggles take a gun from the shelf. Not like he was going to sell it anyways. He felt very, very relaxed, and he had slumped in the couch.

"Do I have to hide in a crate of fish?" He asked, taking a third slice of cake. He was really, really, really hungry. He looked up, fixing Giggles's eyes with his own green ones. "I'll cut you a deal." He said, getting up. "If you can get me off Frixion, you can have all the weapons you can carry." He said, glancing out the window. He noticed the man with the dog from the bar outside. Huh. Small world.


"That's a pretty big 'if,' though. We need a ship, and even if we do get one, we also need to find a way not to get shot out of the sky." He said.

"Yeah, nah, fishbox was a bit of a one-off," said Giggles, surreptitiously swapping out the box magazine for a drum. Modesty wasn't worth passing up a good offer. On second thoughts, he took a collapsing stock too. Tommy gun for a tomboy, thought Giggles idly, assembling the von Goethe. "Heads up, that was before the embargo, although I had some- other problems to get past at the time."

"I should be able to get some use outta the chaos, though, 'specially if it lasts more than a week. A ship I can get you. More likely we'll survive if we crash a few nights in someone else's. A lot of people want to get out right now, and the market for people smuggling just got waaay less competiti-" Stop.

I'm gonna regret not checking if that guy's undercover. Without putting down the gun, Giggles stepped to the door, leaned out and beckoned the bearded man to come in. Nothing about him pricked Giggles's sense of danger other than the dog, it had to be said.

Colin and Hound made it out of Nova, and tried to get as much distance as they could from the Sykrott. Dammit, I'm an Engineer not an Assassin. As the two turned the corner, a lithe, androgynous figure, beckoned them into a storefront, a glimmer of gunmetal in its unwaving hand. Colin's spun on the spot to see if the figure was summoning someone else, as he was sure it was. His eyes darted up to the storefront sign, "Valentine Armaments".

Hound waited beside him, growing impatient. Was he going to lunge onto this Sykrott when he rounded the corner, or were they heading into this den? Colin chose the latter, much to Hound's chagrin.

The customer bell chimed as Colin held the door open and clicked his tongue twice for Hound to enter. He took his leather aviator cap off and slicked back his sweat drenched orange-brown hair. He closed the door slowly behind him and watched the street through the glass." Top of the day. Hope ya allow dogs in your fine establishment. Thanks for the assist, I... " Colin turned to meet the shops owner and the one who beckoned them in. Before him was a young man, tea cup in hand, green eyes surveying him under bushy eyebrows. His guardian angel was a ragamuffin. She looked like another orphan of war from his home on Wiklow. Colin couldn't nail a clear boy or girl vibe, so he would watch his pronouns. Fool be quick to speak, wise man holds his tongue as Da would say. Colin watched as Hound forgot his manners, and inched his way towards the cake on the table, nose twitching. " Oi Hound! Manners!" The dog stopped and looked back with an incredulous stare.

" Hi, sorry, I'm Colin, this me Hound. Mind if we peruse your shop while dodging a big ol' Mother Hubbar whose tailing us? Also, would you be happening to have any Ship Engineer or Mechanic positions available for a down on his luck transient?"

---

Little bastards' quick. Mal'akuth mused as he watched the boy and his dog slip out of the bar with the stench of fresh sweat trailing him like an invisible ghost. If that reaction didn't attest to his guiltniness, then Mal didn't known what would. But the beast had little time to waste on thinking about such trivial matters, the hunt was on and his prey was on the move.

Without paying his bill Mal'akuth lept out of the bar and started after the the boy. Even with all the precautions the he took, he couldn't hope to escape the superior senses of the Apex Predator. No being ever had. And once Mal'akuth picked up his trail, finding him would only take seconds at most. The mind of the Sykrott was no longer that of a bar patron slothed on weak synthentic whiskey, but that of a hunter. With the agility of such, Mal'akuth took to higher-ground, using the buildings to speed up his pursuit.

Within moments Mal'akuth came to a stop on the roof of a shop known as Valentine Armaments. The trail ended here. Mal'akuth sniffed the air tentatively. More scents mingled with that of the boy's within the shop. They were scents he recognized from somewhere. Yes, they belonged to those revolutionists from the bar earlier. Was the boy somehow connected? Mal'akuth hesitated. In any other situation he would has blasted his way in and slaughtered the shop's patrons. But something urged him to listen. Call it instinct.

Marco got up when he heard the bell chime, joint in his mouth. He realized that he was not in a state to meet customers, and this was probably why his shop was failing. He was about to say they were closed...Until he spotted the cute puppy.

"Can I pet your dog?" He asked. The question was answered by hound, as the dog headed for the table. Marco quickly lifted the cake away. "No. Chocolate kills dogs." He said to Hound, before putting it on a shelf. He turned to Colin.

"Go ahead. Have some tea." He said, slouching down on the chair before taking another hit. "What do you mean a tail, though? Are a bunch of G-Men going to come busting in?" He asked. He could use a mechanic or engineer if they had a ship, but he was more worried about the cops coming in while he was discussing illegal activities. "Why're you being tailed, anyways? Do you not have a dog license?"

"Fine. Crap, whatever. No deal, I get it." Diana said, angry that she'd been ignored like that. Yes, she'd been planning to steal a fortune from the alien and prepared to kill him if he got in the way, but he had nothing to gain from being a jerk. She, on the other hand, had the world to gain. In her opinion, at least, that excused it. It didn't make things any better that this meant the deal was off as well.

She left him behind and returned to her crewmates and the bar, when she noticed the huge Sykrott get up and leave. There wasn't much extraordinary about this on its own, but the more she watched him, the more something seemed off. Maybe the way he was walking, maybe the way he was watching the man that had left a moment before. Maybe he knew that man for something one had done to the other, maybe he was off his meds, maybe she was just seeing things. Whatever it was, the man looked in too much danger for this to be ignored. After a moment's hesitation, she set off after him.

But of course, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Now on her own, in her uniform with all these modifications. At least there were plenty of aliens, so almost everyone was as weird as her in one way or another. Even then, she'd had no training or even practice in shadowing people. She just did her best to look like she happened to be heading this way, which became more and more difficult as she followed the Sykrott into more and more empty areas.

It'd be sooner rather than later she'd be found, so Diana took what time she had to steel herself for the battle to come.

"Oh fer fooks sake! Of course you need a dog license on this over-chromed rock." Colin sighed as he was offered the tea. Colin wasn't to sure he could trust these two and whatever they had in that teapot. But, Colin's mother taught him his manners and he took the offered cup."Hound say Hi." was a common command to Hound, to let him know that this person was safe to approach. Hound followed the cue and walked up to Marco's spot on the couch, placing one paw on the open cushion to see if Dogs were allowed on couches here. " No, not G-Men, I've yet to screw up that bad. No, some mean looking Sykrott in Nova took some unknown offense to Hound or meself. Was making his way towards us, full of piss and vinegar. Now Hound here is a veteran of foreign wars, a fierce combatant. But meself, more of a lad of the arts and sciences. These Sykrotts, I've seen 'em fight before, and this angry git was the biggest one I've seen. So we set our boots out the door like hellfire on our heels. That's when the Fates lead me to your lovely, um... explosives emporium." Colin gulped some tea down realizing the array of weaponry he was surrounded by, and the hardy machine gun in the ginger's hands. He added the rest of the sugar to his cup. Dark as night and sweet as sin as Ma use to say. Colin turned his head slowly, back to the blonde man, trying to hide his worried face behind the tea cup. " Is this your emporium, Boss?"

"I think I saw him at the bar. Here, I'll see if he's still out there. Sit tight." Marco said, taking a hit from the cig before getting up. He went behind the counter, and took out a brown paper bag, hooking it under his arm. He opened the door, looking around. He didn't see anyone. That was, until he looked up at the roof. There was his man. Oh, and it was the woman from the bar, too.

"Oi! What're you doing up there?" Marco yelled up at them. His eyes were glazed, and he looked a little unsteady. It seemed like the waterweed was having quite the effect on him. Hell, it looked like even a cross breeze would knock him over. "Do...Do you know? If you guys fell down, I don't have insurance for that." He was pointing, and making a big scene, and acting like a buffoon. Completely different from who he looked like in the bar. He had the cig hanging from his mouth, so it was obvious he'd been smoking something.

"This guy with a dog...You're harassing him! Why do you hate dogs!?" He was swaying a little, and waving his hands around while he talked. "A-and you! Robot lady! Get down from there, you...You robot."

"A lad of the arts and sciences," murmured Giggles as his only response, hands and thoughts elsewhere. When he stood up from his crouch behind the door, he was a wraith in a hood. A trickle of blood marked the nostril of his smoke mask, and the Ophan cords covered his eyes with a hungry suction.

It was good to be omniscient again.

Giggles did nothing to stop Marco leaving the shop, watching him around the corner with his Ophan field. He nodded to Colin and lifted a firm finger to the Hound, then gestured to that he was free to the couch. The dog watched his blood-enemy tensely but with admirable patience.

The captain was back. A warrior-figure from the bar was there. Marco was yelling.

Giggles flicked the von Goethe's safety, and waited.

Colin watched as Giggles flicked the safety off on his gun. Quickly, he stumbled to the shop window and saw the Sykrott, and to his surprise the military woman from Nova on a rooftop above. She too was drawing her weapon. His gut wrenched as guilt filled him. He had led the Sykrott warrior here, he had fled the worn torn land of Wiklow but it seemed its ghosts had followed him.

Hound sat on the couch with pride, indifferent to the events unfolding. He had succeeded in his mission, he was allowed on the couch.

Colin crept by Giggles unsure if he could see him inside the device he wore. He exited the shop and put a hand on Marco who wailed at the two gunslingers on the rooftop. Colin noticed that his shouting had turned the attentions of a few onlookers, and in turn, Frixiom Primes Surveillance Drones stoically waiting for a violation."Oi Boss, lets leave these two to der business. I'd hate to see anyone get hurt due to some slight I caused that ting. Your friend inside is all suited up and ready fer da crusades. Maybe we could all chill out and use another cup, eh. Look da drones are already watching."

"Hey! Heeeeey~!"

A small girl nervously bounded across the street, completely heedless of a car that very nearly hit her in the process, as she accosted a complete stranger on the other side of the road. Thinking she might be homeless, he averted his gaze and pretended to ignore her — only to recoil when he suddenly had a paper shoved in his face.

"Have you seen this person!?" The little girl pleaded loudly, pushing it up closer to him as though five centimeters wasn't enough distance to properly view it. "I'm looking for her! It's really important!!"

"I— I dunno, just...go away." Her face fell at the rebuke, pouting as the stranger made all haste to leave her presence. Why did no one want to talk to her? Was it because she smelled bad? She did smell pretty bad. Probably. Her sense of smell had reached an automatic shutoff point of some kind, so she didn't actually know how bad she smelled, other than that it was bad enough that her 'secondary brain' had activated an emergency-level protocol in response.

Well, it probably wasn't that bad, anyway.

"Hungry..." The girl muttered, listlessly making her way down the street, as she gingerly held the piece of paper with both hands. The person on it was really important. She had to find them, no matter what! But, with no idea where that person was, and...literally no investigative skills whatsoever...she was reduced to asking random people on the street. Which, to her earnest shock and surprise, was not working.

Her last box...drawing a small, cardboard box from her hoodie pocket, she emptied it over her mouth, dumping six or seven sugar cubes directly onto her tongue, chewing them like light snacks just before tossing the box over her shoulder. She'd need more food soon, but that was fine. She could—


Oh, hey! Another person!

Wow, she's tall! Like, super-duper tall. Taller than tall. Talltall. And she looks lost. That means she doesn't have anywhere to go, which means she has nothing better to do than look at paper and listen to someone talk!

The perfect target.


Meanwhile, the girl quickly running towards her was about as short as short could get. Not even ten years old, if she wasn't so loud, people would probably walk into her without noticing. She was wearing a black hoodie over a tracksuit, both of which, along with her shoes, were caked in...something.

It almost looked like amber, but a detailed analysis might betray the fact that a large amount of mucus, blood, and sputum had apparently been melted into the fabric of her clothing. There was no way that could have come from just one episode of a bad cough. It was every time she threw up over herself, or wiped her mouth, or anything...and some kind of persistent, ambient heat source had made sure that every molecule of it was bonded nice and snug with the polymer hoodie.

To call those clothes dirty was an insult to dirt itself. They needed to be laundered in unicorn blood before they could be called 'safe to wear'. And dear stars above, the smell. If one of the four horseman walked among the streets of Frixion Prime, there was now a decent approximation of what it might do to a person's nose.

Unnaturally dark hair, dyed a jet black, peeked out from underneath the hood, cut in a jagged and uneven fashion. Her deep, red eyes were filled with a childlike glee that sharply contrasted the rest of her body, her cheeks sunken and her limbs eerily thin. The bones in her hands seemed to push up through the skin farther than usual, and her arms had barely any muscle on them at all. Even without the state of her clothing, she gave the appearance of someone who should really be in a hospital.

Despite that, however, through the force of sheer childlike boundless energy, she pressed through her own physical state towards the ultimate goal of...being a pest, probably, or whatever it is she wants.


"Heph yooph!!" With a mouthful of half-chewed sugar spewing from the corners of her mouth, the little girl approached the talltall stranger, shoving a piece of paper in her face and swallowing the 'food' in a terrible rush. "Hey! Hey you! Have you seen this person!?"




"It's super duper ultra important, I gotta find her!" The little girl pleaded, pushing the paper as closely to the woman's face as she could reach, which was not very. "Pleeeeeeeease say that you've seen her? Pretty please!?"


...As if saying please would make it more likely...

...But, somehow, it did.

The lady who was part skyscraper blinked. She squinted at the signpost. She squinted at the air sitting between her and the signpost. There was definitely something off about that air. And there was definitely, definitely something off about that signpost.

She touched her nose with a warmly gloved hand. Oh. So that was the air. Then what was the deal with the signpost..?

"Heph yooph!!" said the signpost.

Ayem blinked again. She was not thinking straight today. Or at least she didn't think she was. She had no way of telling.

"Hey! Hey you! Have you seen this person!?"

Actually, that didn't sound like a signpost voice at all. Ayem flipped back her hoodie, tapped her headphones, and looked down.

Oh, thought Ayem, forgetting the post entirely. That's the smell.

"...say that you've seen her? Pretty please!"

Ayem took one look at the paper and said, "Yeah, sure." She didn't know why. She didn't think about it either. She was looking at the girl.

She'd already tensed, moved one foot just a little way back. Fake skin tingled in rings around her forearm. It was never a good idea to ignore a spirit. It was never a good idea to stop and listen. A motorised heart whirred just a little faster in its metal cage.

On a not-yet-desolate street at a not-yet-desolate hour, a ghost and a cherub met eyes. The pair above was black, the pair below bright red. A strong... aura... radiated from the little creature, who otherwise seemed at least sixty per cent human. The many things that might make her seem otherwise were hidden under her hoodie, just like Ayem's were hidden in hers.

"Umm." Taking the paper in her fingertips, letting just enough metal through that she wouldn't have to actually touch it, Ayem put a knuckle to her lips and simultaneously suppressed a giggle and an oh, no. If there was a chance to turn back before, it was gone now. "I'm not really sure. She could be anywhere." She looked back at the cherub, who probably weighed as much as an over-full shopping bag. Less, maybe. "Do you... Know how you're going to get to her?"

"Nope~!"

The little girl smiled widely as she admitted, without complaint, that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

"She flew off into the sky." The girl explained helpfully, "I dunno how to fly, so I can't follow her...and I dunno where she is..." She pouted expressively, kicking at the ground in disappointment. "So, I thought, maybe someone else might know..."

"But! But!! You've seen her, right!? You've really really really pinky-swear-promise seen her!?" Like a lightswitch flipping on, the girl was jumping up and down excitedly. She pivoted moods like an improperly calibrated accelerometer. "Wh-which way did she go!? Where was she when you saw her!? I gotta chase after her!! I gotta!! I gotta I gotta I got—"

The little girl, who had up to that point been literally bouncing with energy, suddenly stopped. Staring wide-eyed at the talltall woman holding the paper, she froze, like a toy whose batteries had abruptly died. It was only after a gasp of unbelievable amazement, the kind of look you'd see from someone viewing an eclipse or a fireworks show, that Mary's trembling finger slowly pointed upwards.

"You...you..." She began, slowly, with a trembling voice. "You...you have...you have...knife hands." The little girl finally finished her thought, her eyes locked onto the fingers that gripped the paper. "That. Is. AWESOME!! I want knife hands, too! I wanna cut off my fingers and replace them with knives! It'll be sooo cool!!" She proclaimed, already pulling back one of her sleeves, and unsheathing what looked to be some kind of high-tech combat knife from her hip that had been hidden beneath the hoodie. She was literally intending to amputate herself at that exact moment. "Where'd you get yours!? How long have you had them!?"