---

---

Sloane was ever thankful for Anya: there was no whinging over the change of plans and no unnecessary asking of what’s wrong, just a decisive agreement and a quick call to action. Sloane followed her and Jack to a shady spot and then, steeling herself for the nauseating jump, placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Rain began to fall on them as the silhouette of an international thief, a southern gothic swamp witch, and a shade huddled together behind a stall. There was a passing gaggle of teenage girls, one complaining loudly about the rain, and after they passed the area behind the stall was completely empty. The three popped into existence on the other side of the island, about a hundred feet away from the resort, with Sloane massaging her temple as the shadows unwrapped themselves from her.

The large resort was dark and closed for the season, the orange and red leaves of the large trees nearby making the entire tropical island aesthetic of the resort feel extremely out of place. The beach looked like a husk of itself. In the summer large umbrellas, beach chairs, and volleyball nets would line the shores, but they had all been stored away for the winter leaving it barren except for the volleyball net posts and a couple of lifeguard stands. The beautiful sandy shores of Cracker Island, as they were referred to in the brochure, had been washed away by the tide, returning the beach to its naturally rocky self until the owners called for sand to be shipped in again before it reopened in May. Its reopening always shocked Sloane, who assumed people would rather summer in the Caribbeans or the Mediterranean than in temperate, always cloudy St. Portwell, but every year it opened back up without fail.

The majority of the resort might’ve appeared dead, but the bar itself was still very much alive as the trio made their way up the drive. The resort’s bar was split between two parts with the circular bar itself being the center. One part was a large, roofed patio right along the beach that could be closed off from the elements if needed and where the majority of partygoers in and out of costume appeared to be gathered. The other half of the bar was inside the resort and hidden behind a series of thick, velvety curtains. Nobody but staff, dressed in typical serving attire except for the addition of a mardi gras mask, seemed to move into the curtained off section.

Sloane led Anya and Jack up to the check-in station outside of the bar, getting them in with no trouble. The gaudy halloween decorations that hung around the rest of the festival were replaced in favor for more tasteful autumnal decor, uncarved pumpkins and gourds displayed with elaborate arrangement of corn husks. Thick, artificial wax candles hung from the ceiling, giving the bar a warm glow as the gathering storm clouds blocked out what could’ve been a beautiful sunset. A four piece string band was playing quietly at one end of the bar, largely ignored, their music drowned out by conversations from the movers and shakers of St. Portwell. They got their drinks, Sloane sticking true to her word, and found a high-top table to crowd around that overlooked the dreary beach.

“Well we made it a week,” said Sloane. “Cheers to the PRA, I guess.”

She raised her glass in a half-hearted salut and then took a sip of her old fashioned. It was an excellent drink wasted on someone who did not particularly drink or enjoy the taste of alcohol, often stating how she failed to see how anybody could enjoy losing control of their faculties. However, tonight was Halloween, and for Halloween she was going as somebody who actually enjoyed letting their hair down. As Linqian had eloquently put it, ”Nobody needs your protection. Nobody's making you worry about the city when you could live a great fucking life, sad and alone.” It was funny to Sloane. As it turned out, in the life she currently chose to live she also often felt sad and alone, she just hadn’t realized that was what she had been feeling until Linqian said it. She took another sip and actually winced as the second taste was more difficult to stomach than the first.

“But whatever. I don’t want to talk about any of that stuff tonight. Tonight I want to just pretend like I am living a normal life where I can enjoy some drinks with a couple of friends and chat about nothing,” said Sloane. Even when she was around friends she felt sad and alone. She didn’t feel like anyone actually knew her, not even Anya. They just knew a handful of Sloane facts like the ones on cards they put up next to the display of zoo animals in cages: did you know that the average Sloane can drink up to three cups of tea a day, buys approximately eight books a month yet only actually reads about half, and is a Capricorn? She looked down at her drink, speared the cherry with a cocktail straw, and pulled it off the straw with her teeth. She felt her stomach knot.

“Um,” was about as far as she got for conversation starters. It was easier to talk to people when there was a goal, a solvable crisis that at the end of the conversation she could look and go: there, we did it. She kept thinking about Linqian, and how Linqian had family that she cared about, and how that family cared about Linqian, whereas Sloane had only abstracts: the people, the city, the right thing. None of those things, as Linqian had pointed out, needed her. Goddamnit, did she even ask to pay for Jinhai’s funeral because she wanted to or because she simply liked the idea of someone tangible relying on her?The former, remember, you don’t care what others think, right? She finished her drink and waved over a cocktail server, ordering another old fashioned.

“So," Sloane shifted her weight, looking tired. "What do you want to talk about?”

Halloween Festival
_{Interactions: @Punished GN, @AtomicEmperor, @FernStone}

---

Being told to ‘buzz buzz’ only put a sour look on Layla's face.

"Hi, Ms. Nour, I'm Sabrina VANBUREN,"

Layla blinked as she held onto Britney's sleeve. Did ‘Vanburen’ mean something? Did… Sabrina have ties to the scum of the world that was the 8th Street Coven?

Then her eyes darted to the black cloth growing in Sabrina's hands. Her intrigued was piqued as she considered Sabrina's abstraction having more than one application…

Of course, a lot happened in that one moment. By the time she looked back, Linqian was freezing Vashti, and Vashti… Vashti was about to take a shot at Linqian!

Layla took an audible gasp, sucking in snow and rain as her eyes widened.

“No need, Ms. Vanburen, no need! We're just fooling around,”

And just like that, the situation de-escalated. Or so it appeared. But with the crocodile who appeared high off her rocker, and who ran with the packed dynamite that was Emily, it was hard to tell.

“Which reminds me, if you see Sloane tell her to drop by the manor again tomorrow.”

That caused a small spike in Layla's blood pressure. ”What?”

Was Sloane fraternizing with another coven? Layla hoped that Vashti was just trying to sow doubt between members, and Sloane in fact hadn't done so.

But… why did it matter to Layla?

Layla swallowed painfully.

If Sloane’s ties did in fact lie elsewhere, this was a risk that needed to be looked into at some point.

“Love your costumes by the way. Very cool. Very, very recognizable. Real easy to spot even in this weather.”

The thinly veiled threat increased the pained grimace on Layla’s face. She watched carefully, with the wide eyes of a stunned deer, as Vashti slowly took her bear and shambled off.

Her eyes glanced to Britney, then passed across the group to Linqian and Edict. Before she noticed Linqian stand on her tippy toes to lean into Edict's ear.

Why do they look cute together?

Layla stared for a moment longer, before shaking her head and looking away. Linqian had given her a look. The kind of look that was a mix of contempt and smugness.

Does she know?

Layla suddenly felt sick to her stomach, arms crossing over her body. She felt so powerless… So. So… empty.

Fuck.

Her anger bubbled up briefly. She felt sick of feeling so powerless. Just because she didn't have hands. Just because she didn't have her companion to protect her. Is this really what she had reduced herself to? A sniveling, shambling girl?

Her lip curled into an unconscious snarl as she glared at the wet ground.

No. She was better than this. She had to be.

Perhaps a talk with Miss Vorpal was in order. Perhaps another talk with them was also in order. She needed some semblance of control. Some semblance of power. Some semblance of… Of… Of… well, it was her quiet secret. But perhaps… she would find herself quite busy after one little night of fun. She'd hang around a bit, and call it a day.

The devil waited for no one, after all.

”Though going to a haunted house at our age is fucking lame without getting absolutely wasted first.”

Layla swallowed for a moment, breaking out of her thoughts before she offered a sheepish smile.

“I don't know if I feel comfortable getting drunk in the open. Not with… Everything going on.”

Yeah, everything. No need to elaborate on that.

“You all can get drinks, I'll wait. Then we can go see some spooky ghosts? Try to forget some… not so great people are here too?”

Mention: @FernStone

Tayla was enjoying the conversation, getting good knowledge on motherhood going forward, when some kid in a KKK costume passed them. Lihn felt the need to be the one to talk to the little brat. She wasn't sticking around for the racist parent that would come and get their kid. She got up and went to the story time circle. Her approach didn't interrupt the storyteller at all. She figures with kids this young, they have experience in continuing through anything that would be seen as an interruption.

Siwan looked at her immediately, smiling and waving his arms to go up. She picked him up, then helped her father off the ground. He's too old to be sitting on concrete. She led them away from the story time, it was almost 4pm, so it would be ending soon anyway. Led them to the crafts table. She sat with Siwan in her lap and handed him crayons and a coloring sheet. He went town scribbling all over the page, the lines were merely a suggestion to him.

"배고파?" her father, Seunghoon, asked.

"아니요," she replied.

"배파!" Siwan said, slamming his arms on the table and wiggling in her lap.

She fed him before they left, but anytime food or being hungry is mentioned, he'd always say 'yes.' She rolled her eyes and reached into his baby bag for her wallet. She pulled out a few dollars, but her father shook his head. He waved away her money and asked for her order.

"Popcorn and a corndog." That shit would be expensive, but at the same time she wanted Siwan to have a fun first experience and that meant festival food too. They'll eat, then ride the Ferris Wheel and get out of here by 5. That's plenty of time to get home and have their evening routine.

Seunghoon walked away, going to get their food, and she resumed her focus on watching her son color. She did keep an eye for Lihn in case something bad went down.

---

---

---

Instead of taking the hit that Adora wanted Trish to fuck off, she doubled down...

“The costume’s cute, shame about who’s wearing it. I’ve got no interest in seeing your nasty ass. Gross.”

Which was nothing to Adora compared to...

“Maybe I just wanted to greet an old friend… Ah! You must not know what it’s like to have friends anymore!"

Adora balled her fists, and grit her teeth, staring at Trisha as she began to shake out of pure rage.

"... After all, you got your last one killed..."

This.

"I bet you haven’t had any since! Must suck to be so sad and lonely you’re flashing to someone you haven’t seen in years..."

Fucking.

"...What would Lisa think?"

"... She'd be disgusted, I bet… Ah, but we’ll never know, thanks to you."

The rest of what Trisha said barely registered as Adora, with one conversation, snapped. She was frothing at the mouth as she stared down Trisha, people gathering around her, but Adora did not care. Lihn was probably going to be very disappointed in her.

But there was a reason why Adora needed Lihn...

With the flip of a very fragile switch, it was on and poppin. With a quick motion, Adora had socked Trisha across the cheek as hard as she could, sending her stumbling. Adora quickly grabbed Trisha by her hair and yanked it as hard as she could as she punched her directly in the stomach. Then, she pulled her fist back to punch her in the nose. Grabbing onto Trisha with her other hand, she shoved the girl into a stand as hard as possible. The loud crash was the least of Adora's concerns as she got on top of Trisha, punching her over and over again. In a short bit, blood had already ruined this Adora-ble costume that she had made.

Then she felt the first sting.

Then, the second one.

Then, the third one.

Then the twenty-fifth!

The bees were crawling up Adora's legs and stinging her; the pain was sharp enough to interrupt this ass whoopin' session that she had inflicted upon this bitch. "AW FUCK, BEES!" Adora shouted...

However, the RAGE was enough to keep her focused on making sure that she was using Daddy's money for plastic surgery. She kept pounding on Trisha's face, fighting through the pain as she was uncaring if this would kill her or send her to jail.

And she would keep going until someone stopped her.

---

---

---

“I love women,”

"Thank you for sharing," Cindy said with a chuckle.

"Me too... happily married to my husband for around twenty years now, but that's not the point...." Meifeng started, "... You don't see me screaming it from the heavens, do you?!" She laughed, playfully waving her feather duster around.

“I think it’s cause of what you’re wearing, boss. They’re blown away.”

Both Meifeng and Cindy laughed and held hands with each other, raising it in the air.

"Well, I'm glad they are!" Meifeng playfully shouted. "I told her this was going to be adorable."

"Heh, you know it's starting to grow on me, you know!" Cindy tried to play it off.

"Everything is fine now. 8th Street crossed a line that no one with a sense of common decency would cross, but then again, Emily Reed doesn't fit that description, now does she?"

The two agents looked between each other... with Cindy tilting her head at Meifeng and the latter awkwardly smiling. Then Cindy said, "Yeah, Ms. Reed does that a lot, but don't worry... we got her under control."

"Now! How many drinks do I need to buy everyone for this to be put behind us? And I do mean everyone. If you two are going to stick around, I think all have a few things to talk about, and I'm in a generous mood,"

"Well..." Meifeng said as she trailed off, "I can't turn down free drinks."

"Of course not," Cindy said, "Nor can we turn down polite conversation, isn't that right, Meifeng?"

"Riiiiiiiight,"

"I'd like to join," Maximilian said as he took a few steps forward with his blue Power Ranger costume on. "If we're going to talk about what I think we'll talk about."

He briefly glanced at Meifeng, who awkwardly smiled again.

"You know I can't turn down a drink either!" Samson laughed as he walked forward from the crowd. "I'm sure we can all buff things out..."

"... Ideally," Meifeng said to herself... as some giant girl ran up to them.

---

---

---

Vashti prepared to land the killing blow on Linqian.

Britney began to create plant life off instinct - some spears ready to impale Vashti from behind.

If it would kill her, Britney would ensure that Jinhai's twin would make it out of this alive. However, Vashti backed up, and Britney let off a sigh of relief as the weirdo made some not-so-vague threats. Then she left, and as quickly as it began, the scene caused by Emily's right-hand woman was over. Britney made the plants she created disappear as she stared at Vashti to ensure she didn't try anything. There was that urge to end Vashti for good... but now is not the time. Britney knew this was not over, and it was likely that 8th Street would bark up their tree again. They just had to be ready for it. However, Britney briefly glanced at the one person getting the least attention here: Sabrina.

Just who did she know?

Sabrina sighed as she looked down at her soaked costume, making the black cloth she was creating disappear in thin air. She looked at Britney, then Layla, and said, "I'm glad that's over... would you like your costumes to get dried up?"

"Sure..." Britney said, and Sabrina used the Silkworm to wring the costume dry. Then Sabrina turned her attention

Britney sighed, wondering if she should change costumes to throw the 8th Street dorks off, but maybe later once they're on the ferry. Maybe hitting up Jack would be a better idea; he knew where she lived (but she made it VERY clear that he should not drop in without warning unless he wanted to see something he didn't want to). He could teleport all of them to safety... but Britney just shook her head. She came out here to have FUN in the face of five of her friends dying in a day. Not stress herself out over the 8th Street Coven.

The problem she created.

Britney looked up towards Linqian, walked over to her, put a hand on her shoulder, and asked, "Girl, you okay?" She said, picking up that she was just a little bit rattled by the whole thing. "Sorry about that... I should have been the one to handle that."

Then Britney remembered that Edict was here and how she had taken things just a little bit too far during the meeting. She didn't understand that the group was dogpiling him until later, and her joke was... not responded to that well. And despite it all... Edict put his ass on the line. Britney turned towards him and smiled (which probably would have made him rock hard).

"Thank you, too, Greyson; you didn't have to help me after how I acted at the meeting," Britney started, "I'm sorry for being an asshole to you there. It won't happen again, I promise."

Unlike swarmy bastards like Edict, she stuck to her word.

“I don't know if I feel comfortable getting drunk in the open. Not with… Everything going on. You all can get drinks, I'll wait. Then we can go see some spooky ghosts? Try to forget some… not so great people are here too?”

"That's fair..." Britney said, holding her tongue as she didn't want to go into how getting fucked up at the Halloween Festival was, in normal circumstances, the pinnacle of stupid decisions. Though she smiled to make light of the situation, "I'm no lightweight, one drink won't hurt me!"

... Then Britney remembered the shitstorm at the Drinkline.

"... Oh shit! We gotta get to the booze, stat!" Britney said before she clutched her purse and hauled ass over to where Lila and the others were, as fast as a six-three chubby twenty-something could, that is. Sabrina shrugged before following after Britney - who was following the crows at some point. Britney made it there, and the situation was...

... Bizarre.

Emily was nowhere in sight (Thank the Heavens!), but there were various members of the Coven here with some other people she hadn't seen before (including some sexy milfs in a delectable costume). However, Britney had tunnel vision, and the second she saw Lila and Lynn, she beelined over to them.

"... What happened?! Is everything okay?!"

Britney asked Lila.

She didn't have the crow arm anymore.

Yay.

---

---

---

A burst of wind appeared out of nowhere... and right next to Tayla was Shayton. He stood tall and proud with his cane firmly pressed on the ground with both hands. He stood there silently for a moment.

"Ms. Choi," Shayton calmly said. "Sorry to drop on you..."

What was notable about Shayton was that he had Cheetah face paint on.

"I was hoping to get a nice conversation out of you without any audience.... if you don't mind."

Mention:@Punished GN

Tayla had gotten her own coloring sheet and some color pencils, joining Siwan in coloring. He stopped what he was doing to look at her work. She smiled, drawing a little eyeball on the corner of her paper just to play. Siwan mimicked her, trying to draw a circle, but it came out disjointed and too far apart to connect.

[color=DE198A]"Wow, you're so good," she said, pitching her voice high. She used to have a hard time talking to him like that. When he was born, she would speak to him like he was an adult. No in language, because she didn't want to say anything inappropriate, but not with her voice high pitched either. The more she got used to talking to him and watching children's programs, the more she spoke to him like the actors on TV.

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, when a wind blew by, ruffling the papers on the table and Shayton was suddenly standing there. She jumped out of her skin.

"씨발," she cursed.

"씨!"

Tayla covered Siwan's mouth. "Don't even," she said.

She glared up at Shayton, pissed that he wants to do this now, during her bonding time with her baby. Not the right time. "As a matter of fact I do mind." She grabbed a color page and a mix of colored pencils and markers. She put everything on a spot across from her. "Join the fun."

---

---

“What the fuck?!” Trisha barely had time to yell before Adora decked her. She knew she was unstable, she knew she was fucking insane, but she hadn’t expected Adora her to punch her here. In public.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! LET GO-” Trisha screamed, cut off by a fist to the stomach as the air was literally punched out of her lungs. The bees underneath her outfit buzzed louder and louder. Not yet, she could take a punch-

She really couldn’t take a punch. Trisha struggled to get free of Adora’s grip, only to be shoved into a stand. Blood flooded down her face, she could barely breathe, and her weak flailing back did nothing. Barely able to hold a thought together, Trisha directed the bees to attack. They swarmed out of her onesie, down her arms and legs and up Adora’s. With loud buzzes they stung all over her legs, her arms, a few reaching her face. Dimly, Trisha directed to her arms. Anything to stop the constant pounding, the pain so intense she could barely think at all.

All thirty bees swarmed Adora’s arms, stinging her again and again, growing more desperate the longer she punched Trisha.

---

---

”Thanks Jasper, you’re the best.” Luca took the pill bottle and shook one out into his mouth. Dry swallowing it wasn’t particularly fun, but he didn’t want to wait. It would take a while to kick in anyway and pain this bad was difficult to deal with. He handed back the pill bottle and grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling in his throat. Soon as his legs would support him he was getting up.

"So, I take it the situation is under control?

”Yeah, it’s all good now, all under control,” Luca croaked. He twisted his head to look at Meifeng- and froze when he spotted the woman that had bottle fed him dressed as a maid. Holy shit that wasn’t an image he was going to be able to forget. He instantly looked away, cheeks heating up… out of embarrassment. He’d hoped to never see her again. Now Jasper would start teasing him about it.

Luca finally let go of Jasper’s hand, shifting to lean heavily against him now that Stormy had moved away. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around Jasper to keep himself propped up, shooting him a smile as his cheeks heated up even more. Phew, must be the warm weather. Definitely not because of how handsome Jasper was up close, or how they’d just been holding hands, or how he was resting against his chest or-

Nope! Jasper was his friend, his very straight best friend, and now wasn’t the time to think like this. Wait, was Jasper’s face red too? Oh, it really must be warm.

”Sorry, I can’t support myself yet,” Luca explained, even though he knew Jasper wouldn’t mind. Of course he wouldn’t. He knew that Jasper would stick with him until he was alright enough to stand by himself. ”Mind helping me stand up?”

He sounded a bit awkward, but he put it down to the mental exhaustion of pushing out the rot. It had taken a lot out of him, physically and mentally. The physical damage was more obvious but he could tell he’d lost a bit of… himself today. But right now he didn’t want to worry about that. This was his time to enjoy with friends. He turned his head to look at Lila, shooting her a smile. If he could walk himself right now he’d be going over to her, making sure she was okay… Which he would, later. They needed to talk. They really needed to talk after that.

”I’ll take a drink!” Luca called out when Stormy offered, lips curving up into a devious little smile. ”I’m going to absolutely drink through your wallet Stormy, you’ll regret offering. I’ll take your most expensive… water.”

He was beginning to feel better. The painkillers were slowly kicking in, and he was able to put a bit more weight on his legs. He’d get some water, then finally the four of them could hang out - and everyone else, of course. They’d have loads of fun! The night was easily salvageable, together-

Luca’s positive thinking ground to a halt as a very tall, very obvious life ruiner barged in.

Normally, Luca would be able to retain his optimism even when facing Britney. He’d moved on from the harsher feelings he once had towards her, after all. But after what had happened - after everything Emily had said, and nearly losing control of himself to the rot - some of those feelings had come back. He was still recovering from what he’d gone through. It was too soon, too fast for him to have gotten back to his normal self enough to handle her presence. Resentment swirled in his tight chest. His thoughts, clouded with pain, went to darker places. Why was she fine, when he was dying? How was that fair? He shouldn’t think these thoughts, he’d accepted it, they’d been young but- he was so tired.

He did something he normally wouldn’t do. Instead of just staying quiet, staying positive and out of the situation, he pushed himself into it.

The Rot wasn’t even there to goad him on. Maybe it was right. Maybe he truly was rotten inside.

”Lila, are you alright?” Luca called out, completely ignoring Britney. As if she wasn’t even there. He still leaned heavily on Jasper, rotten wounds scattered across his arms and expression tight with discomfort. For once he didn’t hide it with a smile. Part of him, the part he normally pretended didn’t exist, wanted her to feel guilty. ”I didn’t hurt you did I? When the Rot… y’know. I’m really sorry if I did!”

---

---

The resort was nicer than the rest of the festival, if still filled with people Anya had no interest in being around. At least the decor was more tasteful and there was a distinct lack of teenagers. It was more tolerable. Not somewhere Anya would generally choose to spend a night, but nor were many places outside of her own home.

”Cheers to that,” Anya smiled, raising her own glass - an Espresso Martini. She was normally a wine drinker, but sometimes it was nice to mix things up a little. May as well make the most of the cocktail makers here, and go for something a little stronger too. She took a sip. It was quite nice, and the caffeine helped push away the tiredness from a poor night's sleep.

She agreed with Sloane’s suggestion they don’t talk about that stuff tonight with a nod. Even people as brilliant as them needed a break sometimes. A night just to relax and not think too much.

But what did normal friends talk about? Anya was almost as stumped as Sloane. Occasionally they would talk about non consequential stuff - the weather, how Anya’s siblings were doing, how work had been the day before. But they rarely just meant up to chat. There was always something to do, even as simple as discussing dreams Anya had visited. Well there was one thing that friends tended to talk about - no, gossip about, if the television shows her sister had forced her to watch was anything to go by.

Boys.

Anya finished her first drink, and promptly ordered a second. She'd need it for the topic she was about to bring up. "Why don't we talk about... My date."

---

Anya couldn't believe she was actually here.

The Far Harbour was… far from the normal establishment she'd go to. In fact, she rarely went out at all, especially not to bars. She cycled between her place, Sloane's place and the occasional fancy restaurant. It wasn't too bad and seemed to have a nice atmosphere, but she would much rather be at home. She would much rather be anywhere but here, with the prospect of having to see that agent in person looming over her.

But it was fine. This was merely an information gathering meeting. She had both Jack and Sloane on speed dial in case anything went wrong.

She'd already gone in and gotten a table, close enough to the door so that she could watch it but enough out of the way that they wouldn't be constantly disturbed. She, unwillingly, sent Trevor a text with very to the point instructions of where she sat, and of what she was wearing. She'd changed into a nice, light blue blouse and a dark, knee length skirt. Her hair was tied back into a low bun. It was nice enough to appear like she was making an effort, while actually being one of her more casual outfits. She nursed a glass of red wine, seriously considering downing it to deal with this, before deciding against it so she could be clear headed enough to get the information she wanted.

“... I’m coming my darling!”

Trevor announced himself from halfway across the room as he barreled over to her table and almost tripped over someone’s chair. He stumbled forward, and caught himself on the table… he hissed in pain as his hands were freshly bandaged.

“... Ouch,”

He used his forearms to pull the chair back, and sat down and said, “Oh, sorry, I was, uh, a little bit…” He raised his bandaged hands up to his bowtie and said, “... Tied up.”

He gave her a wide smile.

Anya could feel her will to live slipping away from the moment Trevor appeared. This had been a mistake. A terrible mistake… But one she would force herself to see through.

”Don’t worry about it,” she forced a polite smile and laugh, pretending she’d found it even vaguely funny rather than just soul destroying. What did she say? Start with polite small talk, before moving onto the things she wanted to know. ”I hope your hands aren’t too badly damaged. Luca’s abstraction can be rather nasty.”

“Oh, these!” Trevor raised his hands. “This is nothing! You know I lost these completely, but my sister fixed me right up!”
Anya forced sympathy into her gaze, taking a sip of her wine. ”What do you want to drink? I can get it for you seeing as you’re… tied up.”

“OH! Agent Liao told me I’m not allowed to drink even off duty because of that time I got reeeeeeeeal drunk. Then I got Maximilian real drunk! Then I got Fiona real drunk. Then I got Leon real drunk. Then I got Sonya real drunk! Then we drove around in my pickup and until I crashed into a tree! Then she was like ‘who’s fuckin’ idea was it’ and they all pointed at me, and I was like ‘It wasn’t my fault, did the fuckin’ booze mind control them?’ Then she slapped me and was like ‘Watch who you’re talking to, boy,’ and I thought that was kinda cute you know…”

”Right.” Anya had no idea what to say to that. Minutes in and she was already speechless. She was rarely speechless. He’d found his boss cute when she slapped him? She committed the crime of drunken driving and then openly admitted it to her? Actually, that was something she could use. She mentally noted it down in the section of her memory that wasn’t going to discard immediately after this meeting. ”No alcohol for you, then, I’d rather not end up on the other end of your boss’ wrath again.”

She smiled. ”A soft drink, then?”

“A coke! Extra ice!” Trevor excitedly said before he leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table and giving Anya a flirtatious smile. “Sooo… tell me about yourself, beautiful?”

Anya waved someone over and ordered the drink, giving her a moment before she had to reply to him. She almost gagged. Was suffering through this really worth it? Yes, it could be.

”There’s not much to say. I work as a dream interpreter, I suppose, and it’s my main passion.” Perfect, just give a little bit of information about herself, before moving onto him. ”What about you? I assume you’re not from St Portwell… Did you move here with the- with work recently?”

“Nope! I’m from Alabama, but I usually bounce from place to place because the PRA don’t got a whole lotta’ of fancy tech guys like me!” Trevor said as he jammed a thumb into his chest. “But, I’ve been stationed here for a while, and thankfully I survived the lil’ purge that took place last year.”

Trevor awkwardly tugged at his collar.

Anya’s smile widened almost imperceptibly. Now this could be interesting, if she could get something out of him. ”Of course, you really seemed knowledgeable about technology on the phone. I’m sure you’re invaluable to them.”

Anya, unfortunately, didn’t know much about technology beyond the normal, so she couldn’t actually compliment him much more about that. Likely a good thing, because just that small amount had her wanting to throw up. She continued, acting concerned rather than like someone wanting blackmail material out of him. ”There was a PRA purge? I take it you weren’t involved in… whatever it was. I’m not sure I can stay if you were, even a little bit.”

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell…” Trevor looked off to the side, before he focused his vision on Anya. “... Before Agent Liao, another guy was in charge of the PRA in St. Portwell. Porter Johnson! I mean, he seemed cool at first but as it turned out…”

Trevor awkwardly laughed.

“You know, uh, well, heard of, uh, one of the little cults in St. Portwell? Das Sonnenrad…?” He laughed again.

”He was part of Das Sonnenrad?” Anya’s eyes widened, though internally she smiled. Bingo. This was information she could use. ”Of course I’ve heard of them. Anyone involved in the magical scene here has.”

She shook her head, acting shocked, even though she didn’t really care about the fact that the last leader was a Nazi. Anya hated Nazi’s as much as the next person, but she wasn’t all that surprised that someone in power had ended up being one. ”If you’re still with the PRA, I assume you didn’t know at the time? That must’ve been a terrible shock.”

“I mean, I always suspected it… dude didn’t make it subtle he was a lil’ lopsided against the, uh, how do I say this?” Trevor awkwardly laughed. “... But, them crazy 8th Street gals’ outed him and Director Alcott did a huuuuuuge sweep. Which is why a majority of the Agents you see here ain’t even from St. Portwell but pulled in from other places.”

Then Trevor shrugged.

“Heard they removed Porter Johnson, but he strangely, mysteriously,” Trevor threw his arms up in a dramatic display, “Fell out of a window. It’s crazy how often that happens.”

”Oh, so most of the agents were removed, with a couple of exceptions? I’m glad to know Bianca, who’s my former coven mate, wasn’t part of that group.” Anya smiled, even though she couldn’t care less about whether Bianca kept her job or ended up in jail. But the information was incredibly interesting. ”And you, of course… It is crazy how easy it is to fall out of a window.”

She laughed lightly, taking another sip of her wine. ”Here I thought they’d pulled in so many agents because of the Stygian Snake. I suppose it wouldn’t make sense to suddenly increase the number of agents after ten years of it being sealed, right?”

“Well… yes and no,” Trevor chuckled. “We kiiiinda lost a few - well, not a few but a lot of Agents during a little shitshow. But, Director Alcott made sure that only the best Agents were in St. Portwell to handle the Stiggy Snake. Like Samson, Sonya, Maximilian - OH! Maximilian. Yeah, he’s going to handle the Stygian Snake if it gets out!”

”Only the best? I suppose that includes you too?” Anya's smile didn't waver even as she internally gagged. But punctuating what she said with a few compliments would make him think that this was actually a date, and she was only asking out of curiosity about his job! Hopefully. Though she couldn't believe he was counted among their best. ”How's he going to handle it? There were hundreds in our coven- Sycamore Tree- when it was defeated. This one man… Maximilian, can handle it himself?”

“Yuuuuup! He’s like super strong, y’know,” Trevor chuckled. “He has sooomething, I dunno what, but nobody can beat him! During, uh, a little something that took place a lil’ while ago we call the Lighthouse Incident, the last all hands on deck incident - well, nobody likes to talk about it, but I think it’s hilarious when people freak out when I bring it up - there was like this big monster like Godzilla.”

To the best of his ability, Trevor hobbled forward, making his best Godzilla impression.

“It fuckin’... we hit it with bullets, grenades, rockets, and everything, but nothing worked! Then he flew over and cold clocked it, and it fell over.”

Anya knew of Godzilla but had never seen the movie - and Trevor's awful impression did little to help her picture how much of a threat that had been. She would have to look it up later. But if he could take out something that even rockets couldn't touch… interesting. ”If he was able to easily beat something no one else could, I suppose he stands a chance with the Stygian Snake.”

Pretending to feel relieved, letting her expression relax, Anya raised a hand to push a straight bit of hair behind her ear. ”I feel safer already knowing someone like that's in the city. I can see why the PRA would feel comfortable with trying to find where the Snake is sealed. Hopefully he can easily 'cold clock' it if it escapes.”

“Yeah, the whole plan if the Snake gets out is for him to fist it to death like yeah!” Trevor accented the last point with a thrusting motion in the air with a balled fist. He did this several times and definitely didn’t catch a few glances.

Anya chose the wrong time to take a sip of her wine, almost choking on it. She wasn’t able to hide her look of shock, recoiling before she could stop herself. The motion was just too much. Perhaps she’d misheard? ”Excuse me? He’s going to do what to the Snake?”

“... You heard me, fist it!” He did the motion again.

Anya was speechless. This was too much. The PRA’s grand plan to stop the Stygian Snake was to have one of their agents fist it. A sexual act. Something generally not done to defeat apparitions. Something she’d had to witness Trevor motion out multiple times. Her confidence in the PRA dropped even further. What a terrible organisation.

She subtly slipped a hand into her coat pocket, tapping the bottom right corner to send a text she’d pre-prepared. Almost instantly her phone started to buzz with an incoming call. Anya was once again thankful for how efficient Sloane was.

Mouthing sorry to Trevor, Anya pulled out her phone and took the call. ”Hello? What?” A pause, some mumbling on the other end of the phone. ”She was hospitalised? I’ll be right there…” More mumbling. ”My date? That’s not important, he’ll understand. Okay, see you soon.”

Anya hung up, instantly standing and smiling apologetically at Trevor. ”My mum’s been hospitalised, so I have to go. I’m so sorry. I’ll contact you again later.”

She definitely wouldn’t unless absolutely necessary. She didn’t even wait for Trevor’s response before walking out of the place as quickly as she could.

"Not the serious parts, of course, though I did get plenty of information out of him. We can discuss that another time. Tonight I just want to complain about it." Anya grimaced. Where did she even start with that? While it had been more fruitful than she expected it to be, there was also so much to complain about. So much that she wished she could bleach from her brain. Perhaps she should contact Greyson and see if he still knew that memory wipe spell of his. ”He turned up in a suit. A suit. As if dressing well could cover up his disturbing personality.”

Her second drink arrived, and she immediately drank half of it. It leant her a pleasant buzz, enough to continue talking about the harrowing experience. ”He tripped the moment he arrived then told me an absolutely inane story about the last time he got drunk. It only went downhill from there. Everything that came out of his mouth made me lose a little more of my will to live… and I very much enjoy living. It was far worse in person than that phone call.”

She paused, gaze going slightly vacant. She quickly snapped out of it and continued.

”And then... this is difficult to say, it's what pushed me to my breaking point. It was the worst thing I had to hear that night.” Anya shook her head. (). Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper, leaning in to make sure that only Jack and Sloane could hear. ”He said their best agent was going to fist the Snake. He even made a gesture to go along with it... I can't replicate it, I refuse to. I thought maybe I'd misheard him, or it was a mistake, but when I asked again he said the same thing. That he's going to fist the snake. They- he- he plans to perform a sexual act on the Stygian Snake.”

Looking absolutely dead after regaling them with a tale of her night a week ago, leaving out all of the boring but actually useful details they could discuss on another non Halloween day, Anya finished her second drink.

”I don't understand how no one has beaten some sense into him. I don't normally advocate for violence, but in this case... it may be desperately needed. ”

Anya sighed, regaining a bit more of herself when she waved someone over to order a third drink.

"As far as 'dates' go, it was the worst I’ve ever been on. It reminded me of why I haven't been dating for the last few years." Well, there was more to it than just bad dates. For Anya dating had just been a means to an end and something she felt she should be doing. A way to follow the status quo and keep up appearances. ”I don’t think I’ll be going on another anytime soon”

“Alex?” Faith asked as she leaned back in her folding chair.

Alex heard her but chose not to respond. They was tasked with an important task, a task that came down from the three horsemen of the artpocalypse. Their gaze remained fixed, never moving nor wavering. They never shut, and they did not move. To fail this task was to fail the 317, and to fail the 317 was to fail everything. At least at this moment.

“Alllllex..” Faith asked again as they leaned forward.

This mission was too important to give up in some meaningless conversation. Their target was in conversation with a strangely dressed woman. There was no chance Alex was going to let them win. Alex was unable to really pull much useful information from their conversation but they knew it must be important.

“Alex,” Faith shouted as she stood up. She walked to the side of Alex and waved her hand in front of Alex, trying to grab their attention. “What are you doing?”

“Staring contest,” Alex whispered as they swatted at Faith’s hand.

“With who?”

“Them,” Alex pointed towards Auri who was looking at their strangely dressed friend and not towards Alex.

“They’re not even looking at you,” Faith groaned as she buried her head in her head. Why were her artists all so weird?

“They were,” Alex paused as they finally looked away from Auri and towards Faith. “For a second. I think I may have misread a signal here.”

“Yeah,” Faith rolled her eyes as she returned to her seat. The stall was one of two that the 317 had for this festival, and this was primarily filled to the brim with paintings, information about the artists, as well as a catalogue of unsold art still at the 317. The second stall was further away, and was a more hands on one that featured educational displays by members of the 317, face paintings, and class signups and registration. “What are you still doing here, by the way? I released the other creatures to a night of fun, I can manage the stall by myself.”

“I was..” Alex paused as they blinked.

“Having a staring contest with someone who wasn’t involved in the staring contest?”

“Yes.” Alex returned their gaze to Auri but noticed they were running off into the distance, and their friend was following close behind. Alex stood up and followed them down the road with their eyes. They spotted a mass of crows in the direction they ran.

“You should get out and explore the festival some, have some fun. I told you that you don’t have to do anything to help here. We’re good, I can man the fort myself,” Faith said as she sat back down and grabbed a cup of tea.

Alex frowned. These types of crowds were not their usual idea of fun. There were people, noisy people, who had no concept of personal space. The food smelled, and none of it was anything that they would eat. The drinks were weak and overpriced. What about this was fun? They knew that prolonged exposure to this space would mean their anxiety and stress levels would be annoying. An idea streaked across their mind as they shifted their eyes across to the now closed stall. Alex saw the paintings. They wondered what the world on the other side looked like.

Alex waited for their moment to strike and it came when a rather large dude began to peruse the stall. They shot up, their Bob Ross wig bouncing as they did, and began to make their way across the street. Faith saw this. “Alex?” They tried to follow but could only do so with their eyes as the man who was browsing the stall began to ask questions about the art.

Alex quickly found themself at the edge of the stall and Auri’s pathetic attempt to stop them with a ‘closed’ sign. They quickly made their way behind the stand and found themselves in front of their paintings. Auri was good. Alex placed their hands on the first two paintings, channeled her power, before they went to the next. They continued until every last painting was linked. Every painting would now have a new road painted in that ran towards the horizon. They were all linked to their power now, and Alex would visit them before long. They did not want anyone slipping through on this end so Alex closed the open portals here, leaving the path open from the other end.

A caw sound grabbed their attention, and they left the stall to explore what was causing a massive murder to get so upset.

---

“He seemed nice,” Summer chuckled as a child sat down for their turn at getting their face painted. Summer was dressed as Audrey Ramirez from the Atlantis movie.

“He was a grown as..a grown man,” Jason said as his eyes scanned the crowd. Seeing a few parents staring at him Jason averted his gaze, pretending to check inventory. He was dressed as the cabbage guy from Avatar, complete with a pair of cabbages in his hand.

“It’s the Halloween festival,” Jordan responded as he sat down. He was dressed as a Jedi knight. “He just wanted to look a little more festive.”

“Exactly,” Summer said as she turned her attention to the kid in her chair. “What animal do you want!” She asked with a nearly infectious enthusiasm.

“A deer,” the kid spoke through missing teeth.

“Fantastic choice,” Summer smiled as she began to paint the kids face. “Besides, it’s money for the restoration fund. And I don’t think there’s ever an age limit on getting your face painted.

“What do you think is going on over there,” Jason said as he pointed towards a small gathering and a localized rain storm.

Jordan looked over and squinted. It seemed, to him at least, like a fight was about to break out with a crocodile. He watched as it heated up as more people joined before everyone left on their own. As the crocodile left, so too did the storm. “Looks like coven crap,” Jordan signed, “just what this festival needs.”

“Jesus, it’s like they have a hard,” Jason paused as he swallowed the word he wanted to say, he spotted a patent in the cries who was shaking their head at him, “time not being terrible people.”

“And that,” Summer pointed towards a mass of crows. It looked like they were quite agitated.

“More of the same,” Jordan shook his head as he stood up, “you two got this? I want to check that out.”

“Yeah we’re good” the twins spoke in unison.

Jordan waved as he took off towards the murder. He arrived shortly after a very large and attractive woman did, and he spotted Alex trying to blend into the crowd while maintaining eye contact with the PRA agents dressed as maids. Jordan shook his head. He knew that the PRA did not show up for no reason, and with Jasper standing in the midst of it he could only guess that a fight had broken out. He saw how Jasper held the small man and raised an eyebrow. Jordan would want to get confirmation, on both accounts. He pulled open his phone and pulled up the notes app and started writing down what he saw and heard.




Lynn watched as Bianca downed the beer right in front of her, and Lynn’s smile grew wider. She grabbed the ten that Bianca dropped and she put it back in her hand. Lynn grabbed a second beer and pushed it across the table until it was right next to her new drinking buddy. “Your money's no good here,” Lynn winked as she laughed. Lynn looked back over to Cindy and Meifeng and laughed some more. “that’s one of many reasons I could never join up. I’d have a new HR case every other week. Don’t worry your secret's safe with me, I won’t tell them.” As she finished she gave Bianca a wink, downing her beer after she did.

Lynn’s demeanor changed when Bianca asked how she was. Her eyes lingered for a second, but they eventually needed to retreat. She was the same as always. Depressed, too sober, and constantly fighting off the creeping realization that she was going to die alone. She was always the same, but she added a realization that she was a colossal bitch sometimes. And Lynn knew Bianca heard what she said to Linqian. Lynn did not know if the Fed was close to Linqian’s brother, but she had to assume that they were at least friendly. Lynn knew that everyone from the old coven must hate

“Well I would be doing better if,” she paused as her eyes narrowed a bit, locking onto Bianca’s with an intensity, “you know, I didn’t get tear gassed a week ago.” She let the statement sit for an uncomfortable second as her eyes never left Bianca’s. “But it’s been more good that bad recently,” Lynn’s demeanor shifted, softening as she pulled herself back to her normal, “More good than bad. It’s been really awesome being back in town, seeing everyone again,” she paused as she looked at Luca getting close to Jasper, “has been amazing. If you weren’t a fed I’d say it’s really good seeing you again.”. She smiled genuinely. “I lied,” Lynn paused as she offered up her beer bottle with Bianca to give her a cheers, “it is good seeing you again. What’s new with you?”

Lynn watched as Britney arrived on the scene. This prompted her to look to Lila. “Do me a favor, watch my drink,” Lynn paused as she slipped into the possible future, her eyes glazing over. She spent several minutes in the future but only a few seconds in the present. “Oh we might need more drinks for Lila after this exchange.”. Lynn turned her attention towards Lila. She took another big drink as she leaned back in her seat, and tossed Bianca another smile.

---

Jaspers face was more red than it had ever been before. It felt like it was radiating heat at this point. Luca…was…wrapping his hand around his waist. The hand holding was one thing, that Jasper knew that Luca’s arm around his waist was a completely different thing all together. Luca was holding him, and Jasper felt good because of it. He felt happy, safe, and above all else he felt like he could sit in his embrace for the rest of the festival. And then Luca leaned into the embrace and he felt that his face grew a shade redder still. He did not realize how cute Luca was until he was this close.

Luca asked him to help him stand up, and Jasper knew that in this moment Luca could ask him to do anything and he’d say yes. Maybe. This was all so confusing. ” Of course, I got you Luca. After we finish up here how about I carry you back to get that food? And then hang out with everyone? I’ll carry you the whole night if you need me to” Jasper said as he smiled down to Luca. His face was very red, was it because of the rot? That must be why it was so red. The rot must have taken its toll and now his poor, cute face was flushed. No other reason. Jasper helped Luca stand up more, noting that his really good friend was very light.

The moment Stormy offered everyone a drink Jasper’s smile lost it’s intensity. Jasper felt like he could go for a drink in a safe way but, after everything that happened tonight, he knew that it could spiral quickly from there. All drugs could spiral quickly, and he was not going to chance it tonight. Not while Luca needed him, not while he had Luca in his hand in a friendly way. ”Water for me too,” he joked with Luca.

Jasper noticed a sudden, and jarring change in Luca’s disposition. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset his friend by the way he was holding him? Jasper followed his eyes and spotted Britney. She was asking Lila if everything was okay. Not Luca, Lila. Sure, Jasper understood that Lila recently got help sealing the creature inside of her and that something went wrong. Sure, Jasper knew that this development was sudden, and scary. But Luca was also hurt. Luca was in pain. And Britney did not check in with him. He followed Luca’s direction as he turned his head towards Lila. ”Yeah, Lila you doing okay?”

---

Lila further buried her eyes in the dirt as she spotted the other PRA agent dressed in a maid uniform. Oh how Lila hated Halloween at this very moment. Lila would normally protest breaking bread with the Feds. By all accounts they’ve done nothing to earn the goodwill, and the coven in general needs to distance themselves from association with the PRA. Words escaped her lips, and she would wait to voice her displeasure until the coven. But she had to say something. “Stormy, I don’t think we-” her voice cut as she spotted the cause of her torment coming towards her. And she dared ask her what happened.

What happened? What happened!? Lila was no expert in sealing but she knew that Britney had failed with it. What happened? Emily had fucked with her in a way that brought the maiden back to her, and she let her the fuck back in. And it turned her into a fucking furry. What happened? Lila could not question it further, she did not know what happened and questioning it further would only make her angry.

Luca pulled her attention, he was making sure that the rot did not hurt her. Lila flashed a smile that was, once again, not her own. “No, no, no you did not hurt me.”” Lila looked to Luca, and saw how close he was leaning on Jasper and how red the two of their faces had gotten. Her genuine smile returned. It did not last long as her eyes slowly slid over towards Britney.

“Britney,” her voice lost its edge once again. What happened, what truly happened? Lila thought back to the sealing, to that night. They were so drunk by the time they got around to the sealing, but Britney said that everything went okay. The maiden was gone, and things were good. But why was the maiden back now?

“I can spoil the secret,” the maiden whispered.

No. No it was not possible. Lila looked to Luca, and Jasper still held him in his arms without rot. Stormy’s aura should still be active, and she should be free of the maiden at least while the aura was still active.

“I have nowhere to run,” the maiden whispered. She felt the maiden chuckle, and the chuckle turned into a full laugh. “he makes me weak but he can’t keep me away”“You should be mad right now,” as the maiden spoke she felt the anger rise inside herself. She should be angry. And as the anger grew, she felt herself being pulled back away from the present. It was much slower, much more difficult, and Stormys spell was very much limiting the pull. Yet it did not stop her eyes from turning black for a brief second as her head tilted to the side.

“Britney, what did you do?”, Lila whispered as she forced her way back to the front of her mind, causing her eyes to return to normal. It was easier now than it was before. The maiden was like a flickering light in an old dark room right now. Every now and again its light shined through, but for the most part the maiden was kept in the dark by Stormy. And the longer she stayed in his aura the weaker the maiden got. Something told her that it would never truly push the maiden away. Lila focused on her breathing. She needed to remain calm. She could not let her emotions get out of hand again. And most importantly, she needed a drink, a good night with friends, and a safe place to be protected from 8th street. She could accomplish none of that if she truly told Britney how she felt.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. We need to talk, in private, soon,” she whispered to Britney, throwing a weak smile across her face.

---

Jack teleported the three of them to the resort bar, led there by Sloane's recommendation. It was nice, Jack appreciated the location as they walked in and found a seat overlooking the rocky shore of the beach. To absolutely no one's surprise, Jack got himself a dark rum. He took a seat across from Anya at the table and stared out at the dark beach. It was like the Void, in some aspect. A place of nothingness that he could stare into for hours, and find but scarce traces of life until he came back to reality. Here, there was only the friends he made a lifetime ago, and for that he could only feel grateful. Jack often felt that he should've done this more, as a kid. If the old coven wasn't coming up with ways to deal with the Stygian Snake, they were being children and partying; Friendships were cemented and bad choices were made, but the coven's members lived by them knowing that if they died the next day, they also truly lived. Meanwhile, Jack hopped from the Temple's library to coven hideouts with clockwork predictability, on an eternal quest to further the coven's interests.

He had given up valuable connections in favor of making it easier on others to live another day. It may have left little room for some bridges to be built, but more of them made it out alive than not. So now, it was time to make amends for that.

Sloane wasn't much for casual conversation, clearly. So when Anya decided to spill the details of her """date,""" Jack leaned in and listened intently with a sip of his rum.

Hearing the details was like hearing nails drag across a chalkboard. The PRA had a literal neo-Nazi calling the shots before now. Jack already firmly decided that the PRA was beneath him, like sheep to a lion, but to hear that promoted them from sheep to ants. Anya's pseudo-paramour survived their purge, which meant he was still around for a reason. There was more to him than he let on, and those were the dangerous types. Jack would know, he had a knack for deception himself, after all.

At the mention of fisting the fucking demigod of sin and darkness, Jack lowered his head. He could feel himself age at a rate completely offsetting the time he spent displaced in the Void, and his sympathy for Anya multiplied into infinity. "If I had known it would be that agonizing to occupy the same space as him, I would have sacrificed myself to spare you..." He took a sizeable drink from his glass.

"God in Heaven... Men." Jack was glad he had offered to be on speed dial for Anya before that. "The next time we have the misfortune of interacting with... Him, let me do it," He finally said. "I have a feeling he only pretends to be so disgustingly stupid, and I'm well-versed in the art of lying to someone's face." Back in the old days, any time someone brought out a deck of cards, Jack was a menace.

"But, your sacrifice will not be forgotten," he joked.

---

All according to plan.

That was what, seven? Eight drinks he volunteered to pay for? Honestly, he fully expected the rest of the PRA to show up. Not only half of them. But he wasn't going to be drank into poverty by this. After all, he wouldn't have offered if he wasn't sincere. A couple of them weren't exactly up for getting drinks, but they didn't need to be, it was totally fine. Out of all of them, Lila seemed to be the only one with an actual objection. She had every right to protest, but he would've talked about it if Britney didn't show up and ask about everything happening. He could tell Lila wasn't happy about that, so he stepped closer to her side, both to stop another outbreak of tempers and to give the Maiden less of a chance to capitalize on her discomfort.

"Nothing happened, Britney. Everything's alright," he assured her. Technically a lie, but nothing happened that couldn't be prevented by his magic and a bit of quick thinking. "Text us if you need anything, we'll be around." That was the polite was for him to say, "They won't be happy about you sticking around, so don't." Stormy wanted to keep things polite and mature, while making sure everyone was respected.

He waited until everyone was paying attention to something else to say something to Lila, quietly. "You have a right to be unhappy with this. I just want them to admit they were wrong to attack us, before anything else. I'll come to a conclusion about if they can be forgiven or not after that. If you don't want to come with us, I can put an aura in something for you to hold onto." Surely, the others would like to hear the cops take accountability for their own actions, but someone had to extend the olive branch first. It was unlikely the PRA would, so he wanted to be the better man.

And then, he focused back on the two groups that had come together. "Alright. Let’s find a table or two away from any Blinds. Then we can talk."

This must be how ambassadors felt, negotiating peace treaties between warring nations. At least if anyone started throwing stones, he could step in again. But for now, Stormy had a feeling that wouldn't be too necessary.

Stormy took off. Presumably, the others followed. He led everyone to an outdoor bar with a nice view of the rocky ocean off to the side. He grabbed an open table big enough for everyone to sit at, and started ordering a couple drinks. It was quiet, since most people were on the other end of the island drinking and doing festive things there, rather than here.

He let the others get their orders taken care of, and once everyone had a glass who wanted one, he started the conversation.

”Now, let’s talk about what happened at the church,” he said, calmly. ”I wasn’t there, so why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He already knew what happened, having heard it from the coven members. But he wanted to hear it from the PRA, and how they would try to justify it. If they would try to justify it.

@FernStone@silvermist1116@Punished GN
Halloween Festival - Kid's Section

---

Hate group. Hate group? The words echoed in his mind, along with the second string.

White supremacists. Assholes, Clancy affirmed himself, and the realisation hit him. What?! He shook it off. He was no asshole like the bikers and their Nazi friends. One thing he did not suffer in his presence were bigoted assholes.

"I don't need help-"

A pang of... something irritated him, but he wasn't sure why. An old memory from a while ago, resurfaced, that he quickly pushed back as Lihn pulled out the 'spare' accessory which might've blunted the damaging effect of his costume.

"Cat ears," he echoed, the words joyless and almost disdainful, "Sure, why not?" That sarcastic edge, once again - but he took the ears without argument, slipping the headband atop his head and over the hood like a crown, so he looked like a perculiar caricature of a cat-ghost, or more accurately - a robed, white cat-boy, missing the tail in either case.

At the least, he could distance himself from the stupid assholes who wore robes and burned crosses on lawns, the blanks slowly filling in.

Stupid costume.

It was too late to seek alternatives now, in any case. He'd figure that out later, and began dwelling on another consideration.

Was he wasting his time here?

Remember what you...-

Noise in the background derailed his train of thought.A vaguely familiar voice, the accent distinct enough that it caught his attention.

"... drop on you...".

Turning away from Lihn, who at this point was probably moreso concerned about the uncharacteristic behaviour of someone she had known for thirty seconds, Clancy verified that the voice belonged to the man he suspected.

Shayton.

The suit, the white hair, and the distinctly foreign accent, only slightly dulled by time in this country. He was conversing with the other asian girl, the one who'd been watching a little boy.

"Prepared." Clancy muttered under the hood, observing the facial paint modeled after the cheetah.

Now or never.

A combination of restlessness, frustration, and persistence drove him to act. While Lihn tried to offer a helping hand, Clancy broke from their conversation without a word, pacing towards Shayton and his would-be associate, brazenly cutting into whatever conversation might've sprung up.

"-been looking for you everywhere, don't leave me like that ever again."

A robed hand clamped around the sleeve of the man's tailored suit, tightening just enough that pulling away would not be a viable option without tearing something up.

The intention was implicit.

"We've got tons of catching up to do, don't we, Uncle S?" There was little sarcasm and no bite to the statement. Only a cold determination masquerading as a poorly costumed child.

There was a great deal of relief as Vashti Nour cleared the area. While the rain didn't let up, it did begin to follow its dark cloud owner about the fairground to give some small relief to the Sycamites in the little huddle. At first he wasn't sure how things were going to go, his finger clenched as tightly as it could against the drop lever of the case. His friend screamed for the drop on the lizard woman, its magical ammunition capable of shredding augmented flesh by disrupting the Lux related spell or effect associated with it. He figured that while it may not be enough to deal with her once she was pissed off, if he acted first there may be a few moments where he'd catch her in that vulnerable state between transformations. Whether he managed to actually make the shot or not was a more complicated matter, and most of the aforementioned relief came from the idea that he didn't need to test it now.

With Vashti walking away, the small group was left to their own devices. Edict felt determined to not let the girls out of his sight, especially if Bean Vanburen was rolling with her. When she offered to dry their clothes, he humbly accepted whatever help she could give as even he wasn't stupid enough to step on the toes of a VB. His Father always taught him to be respectful of those people, said it was Old Money like that which kept them in business. The rich and the poor, a cycle of thieving and skimming and scrimping, all with the understanding that it was the man in the middle who would foot the bill. The sucker.
He knew that Sabrina wasn't her old man... But hearing her clip Vashti's wings with authority made him pass a second more subtle look in her direction as she finished her task. It was still wet and cold, but at least they weren't soaked.

That's when Linqian approached him. He could feel her shaking slightly, and chalked it up to the cold rather than trying to pry into her leery mind and find out. As she hugged around him, he felt her purposeful tug upward, and he gripped his arms around her back to support her and pass on a little warmth. But then, she started yapping in his ear about something he almost couldn't make out over the din of the festival. Slowly parsing it out, his brow furrowed into a v-shape as his eyes passed between Britney and Layla. In that moment, he was one hundred percent sure that what he'd been approached with the other day at that meeting had everything to do with little Layla Hyacinthus.
Edict had never paid her much mind. Probably because he'd never been in a position to deal with the House of Cards. How could he have ever known she was connected like that without having seen her at some sort of event? He wasn't allowed to go to those until he began really earning on the streets, and since then their merry band of murderers had taken something of a dive. He had been propositioned about their takeover, even, which in the end had been nixed by one negotiation or another.

”Though going to a haunted house at our age is fucking lame without getting absolutely wasted first.”
Correct.
He didn't actually speak, however, simply giggling to himself. Before she could fully let go, Edict took her right hand gently, and subtly stuck it into his left pocket as he casually spun both their bodies. He was masterful at slight of hand maneuvers like this, blocking her arm reaching into his pocket with the bulk of his coat. Inside was what felt like a small brick wrapped in paper.
"Grab and hold, its yours."
And with that same subtle movement, Edict stepped in front of Linqian, the motion allowing her to hold the envelope as it slid out from his pocket. In the same motion, he fluffed the coat on his shoulders to insure it blocked the sight of Linqian stuffing the envelope full of money into her back alongside the pistol he wasn't asking for yet.

Frankly, he wasn't confident that the night didn't have more surprises ahead.
"You may still need that other thing though."
His head turned, approaching Britney as her smile overtook his mind. He could feel the burn in his throat as he began to instinctively unfurl the lotus' roots in complete disregard for his channeler still secure in his breast pocket. It wasn't any kind of real spell ever, more like a leaking of pure Pink Lux that just permeated an area with the general sensation of being trapped in a box full of one way mirrors. It took a White Lux user to actually tell what was happening, unless you were close enough to him to see the glowing of the veins in his throat as the energy escaped.

The look of gratitude, inside still hiding something I could never get to the bottom of. Would I be satisfied if I did? Would I kill her just as easily?

He shook the thought out of his head, approaching Britney and smiling with a gentle smile as he reigned his energy in. As soon as the feeling had come over the surrounding, it was gone again and pink smoke curled from his nostrils.
"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you there. It won't happen again, I promise."
"You told me you never wanted to see me again: First time we see each other again and I'm doing the same shit? You had every right to be mad."

But before he could lock her down, she was off toward the booze line about something or another. She'd always been like that, and while it annoyed him then, the irony of what he said left him with a genuine smile on his face. At least until it was just Linqian and Layla.
"Linqian, please go with them... I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know? You're better with those people than I am anyway. We'll catch up, and yes I'll take a Stel. Thank you."
Whether she believed him or not was her call, but if he couldn't talk to Britney about what happened and what he knew, he'd be able to at least try and soak the truth out of this junior Coven member. He didn't even wait for her to leave earshot before he started trying to butter Layla up.

"So how have you been, Hon? Not sure if you remember me at all, but my name's Greyson. I didn't see you at the meeting the other night, you not want to show up? You didn't miss much."
At worst she wouldn't take the bait... Well, actually at worst, she was in deep with the House, and she may have some way of knowing he tampered with their agent the day before. But, he barely remembered the girl, never mind recalling a reason to be afraid of her. What was the worst that could happen?

Whatever Shayton wanted to talk to her about wasn't going to happen with the racist kid interrupting. Something about him was off. Like magic off and she wanted nothing to do with it, especially not with her baby around. She grabbed his coloring sheet and stood up, adjusting Siwan onto her hip. He started crying and kicking his little feet.

"No! Cayon!" he cried. She hated that they couldn't have their peace. What's supposed to be a good day for them was interrupted by assholes that couldn't leave them the hell alone. She snatched a purple crayon off the table for him, then they made their escape, heading for the Ferris Wheel.

Seunghoon was just coming back with the popcorn and corn dog. She shook her head and ushered him back the war he came. It was 4pm now. Just an hour left before the sun would sink beyond the horizon.

Her father looked at her questioning. "Bad vibes," was all she said.

He wouldn't understand, but he didn't need to. If she's leaving in a hurry, then that's all he needed to know something wasn't right. They got in line for the Ferris wheel. She gave Siwan the crayon. She didn't feel bad for stealing it. Inconsequential in the long scheme of things.

The line wasn't too long. They waited 15 minutes, before they boarded. She pulled baby wipes out of the baby bag, wiping Siwan's hands, then her own. She fed him popcorn, watching his little face turn funny from the crunch. She gave him another all while looking at the amazing view of the ocean and the mainland. She pulled her phone out and took a picture, then a selfie with her father and son. All of them smiling. Though she had to poke Siwan's cheek to get him to give her something then the 1,000 yard stare into the camera.

"Junior, stop! Stop, I'm trying to cook! Actually cook! You see this!?"
"What the hell, I've seen you cook! You can spare a little time, look at you. Hand in your pocket, some kind of cool dude chillin' at the stove. Rapide, Monsieur!"
"Maxwell the Fifth!? Control yourself or just go!"

Leon looked back from his position at the prep counter where he'd been chopping vegetables for the kebabs that Andrade had on their menu this year. This was an every year kind of thing, and while Leon hadn't missed one, he couldn't say the same for his siblings. It was nice to have them all home this year... Even with June being June. The young man was throwing his arm around Andrade's front, trying to hold an arm behind his back in some pugnacious display of pushiness that was classic of a recently assertive Maxwell V. Beside Leon, Casey sighed deeply, and he could see his younger brother's head shake. Then there was the increased heart rate, knowing that if it was going to be anyone who got it next, it was him. Leon thoughtfully bumped Casey's arm.
"Hey, listen, Furio and a few of the other guys are supposed to be getting here for the next shift, so why don't you and me sneak off a little early and get some drinks?"
Casey's reaction was near surprise, mostly because he was spaced out on the feeling of discomfort he got around his younger brother. There had always been something in June's eyes that terrified Casey, the kind of look that he saw in some of the Veterans who had a particularly hard time readjusting to civilian life. He always wondered if they should've switched places.

"What? O-oh, right, shit... The time, man, it fuckin' flies in a kitchen."
Leon gave a shallow curved smile to his brother.
"You should ask him for a job! You seem like you really loved doing this today." he replied to Casey, throwing his head over his shoulder at Andrade.
His expression brightened in return, and the nodding confirmation gave Leon enough confidence to push it a bit more. But before he could, Casey spoke again.
"You're right, I really should. Honestly I even loved chow duty when we were in the rear bases; I'd always volunteer to help. When he's not busy, y'know?"
"Of course dude! Yeah, it'll be real good for you, helps you transition fully into the mundane."

While the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals rented space for three different booths, the boys had decided to help by doing work for the food booth that Andrade was in charge of. It was always Leon's first choice, rather than selling clothes and swag or running the informational booth. With all three of the Richoux Brothers home for this particular Equinox. There was going to be a bigger celebration at the Temple the next day, but for now their celebration was service to the population of St. Portwell. Their Mother and her secretary happened to be at that booth overseeing things as their covers began to pick up for dinner. She was sure to never give her son the difficult shifts, and with all three being here this year, they'd very nearly finished the opening ten hours of the festival. Currently she was dealing with June, and was quick to pick up a folder planner full of the day's checklists to wrap him over the head with.
As she did, the two plastic faces smacked together causing a clapping noise that made Casey jump again. Leon felt it, and the increased heart rate again, and shook his head.

"Ma, can you not, please?"
"Leon Hunter, do not butt in."
"Yeah Leon Hunter, or you won't get any good boy points from Mommy."
"You should stock up on them, Junie. Oh, wait, you just collect boys, nothing to do with points."
"Oh sure, jump in front of the bullet, classic Casey. Why don't you make yourself useful and go bomb another hospital in the desert?"

Leon's eyes flicked between his hands and the front of the booth where there was a line of people waiting for kebabs and burgers made by Andrade Salamente. He figured he may have some adjacent fans, and some of them may want to see a boxing demonstration, but doubted they were really here for that. He kept his hands down, laying the knife to rest on the cutting board as he spun to look at Junior. His cocky smiling face stared back, and Leon gave the best disappointed father look he could give. Casey hadn't looked up, hadn't even stopped chopping vegetables... But Leon could feel the muscles tensing as Orange Lux flowed through his brother's body.
He and Casey had a complex relationship as children, and Leon carried a great deal of regret over the circumstances; something he sought to rectify whenever he could.

But surprisingly, it was Andrade who threw the decisive action.
"What the fuck did you just say to him!?"
Leon saw Andrade pull the cast iron pan from the stove with the peppers and onions inside still sizzling, and gripped it like a club before pushing his weight into Casey.
"When he could've fucking died? You say that to your brother? Your Father would beat you senseless... Madame Lynette, please get him out of my fucking kitchen!"
"You talk about my Dad like you've got his dick up your a-"
Leon started forward, ready to go for June's collar, but ultimately the Mother Lion got in the way.

Swapping to French entirely, Lynette began to lay into Junior who ultimately shrank into his own clothes before finally being dragged out of the booth by her and down the causeway toward God knew where with the secretary of the week right behind them. The three remaining men drew breaths of relief toward one another, each of them knowing the fury that was out there for that young man. Andrade and Leon exchanged a look, both turning their heads to the crowd, who at the front had been exposed to the yelling. They tried their best to ward off curious parties, but eventually Andrade offered some food up to those effected until the line cleared out. When they had another moment to breathe, Andrade turned back to Casey and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him.
"You know we'd never think of you like that my man. I'm sure even he doesn't, he just says-"

"The most hurtful thing possible."

The three of them spoke at the same time, and while Casey didn't look up from his work, he did laugh along with Leon and Andrade, who both gave him some reassuring pats on the back. Around the same time, Furio and the girls were showing up at the booth.

"Oh my God, it's Lee Lee!"
Mia seemed to be in a good mood today, which was good, because it seemed like it was starting to rain. She'd need it being bored all night. She brushed past Casey like he didn't exist, giving Leon a big hug and practically crawling into his arms. Behind her, Elise's quiet presence filled in the booth, and while Andrade and Furio exchanged pleasantries and the other two were occupied with cuddling, Elise took the time to notice her little brother's expression.
"Mum said Junie's on a time out? She's got him on the merchandise booth now, and he's pouting like a little kid. She asked us to come over here with Furio while the girls hang out with June and listen to him whine."

It was hard for Casey to hide his fading frustration, so he simply took a deep breath.
"I implied he was a pedophile, so he told me I should go bomb a hospital." Elise's brow furrowed.
"Over...?"
"It's more complicated than it deserves being, E. Don't worry, he's fine." Leon piped up, Mia the Barnacle having finally unsuctioned from him.
"Fine? Lee, they cannot be around one another! What the fuck are we supposed to do for a week?"

Leon scoffed and waved his had at his Sister. That same moment, Furio came into the picture, looking between the siblings. Once they stopped talking, he took it as a sign of acknowledgement.
"Just to let you know, Leon? Eight Street is out in force tonight, but I've seen pockets of your friends clustering up together.
The Big Man nodded his head, finally pulling his apron off to swap off with his baby sister. Underneath was a shirt with a clown face print on the front. A zombie clown, complete with cracker brains that said "You Crack Me Up" in bloody halloween letters. Unlike some of the others, he had to take his costume off to start work.
Casey, accurately, took this as a sign that they were finished their shift, and pulled his apron off similarly. He had gone low effort, wearing his tans from his last deployment along with his Channeler on his right hand. Handing it to his Sister, he hugged Elise tightly and spoke into her ear.

"I promise it won't be my problem, Sis. It's not me."
She hugged him back, tucking her face into his shoulder.
"I know, Honey, I know. It's not fair to you. It isn't."

---

Eventually the two men managed to escape the booth after Leon had finished putting his costume back on. It was a rather simple ordeal of a nightgown with big red slippers, a quilt over him, and an old woman's nightcap tucked over a wolf head mask that pulled entirely over Leon's head. He had the mask pulled up like a hat while walking about the Festival so he could look at Casey, both of them with a beer in hand. There were quite a few faces he recognized, and Leon pointed them out casually while telling Casey about some of the good times he'd missed.

Not because of his time in the army, mind you, but the fact that he didn't get to be part of the Sycamore Coven. One imagined that the slippery middle Richoux would've managed to sneak into the Coven, but it seemed like whenever he was on the verge of getting into trouble, all of a sudden Lynette would be attentive again. He knew what it really was; that she'd been monitoring them all no matter how much she pretended like she didn't care. That's, of course, how she framed it. Caring. Letting Leon go out and do whatever the hell he wanted while the rest of them were forced into lives that they didn't want. It took their Father disappearing for her to let anything else happen...

The two of them walked along, sharing pleasantries in between introspections until Leon caught the noise from someone getting into a fight in his keen ear. Leon openly began to chug his beer, which lit Casey's face up as he pounded his back in solidarity. By the time he was done, Leon had patted him on the chest in a directive to follow, which he was very familiar with as a soldier, and readied himself for what he couldn't hear but his wolf brother could. Leon pulled the mask over his face so that whatever was happening wouldn't spot Leon Richoux the celebrity.
But it was strange... There were... Bees?

As the two rounded the corner, they were staring at ass rolling around on the ground and covered in bees. The honey pot, Casey thought to himself as he quickly moved to stop the fight. Leon could barely see in the wolf mask, and pulled it up again reluctantly to see a familiar face getting the better of someone.
"Holy shit, Adora!? Hey, Casey grab the one underneath, grab her! Girls, girls, Ladies, what the fuck!?" Leon felt Adora's power from the Trinity as his hands wrapped around her arms to pull her up.
Meanwhile, Casey was also being slowly covered in bees, and was thankful he'd worn full BDU tans with gloves, as he had very little exposed skin save for his face and head.

---

---

What most people would mistake for breathing and blinking was actually an absolute avalanche of expressions, the mix of horror and amusement dusting off the slopes of Sloane’s face and melting as they mixed within her second drink. It wasn’t as tough to get down as the first one, at least until Anya mentioned the fisting. Sloane made what could only ever be described as some kind of noise, one that would be impossible to replicate if she tried, and immediately clapped a gloved hand over her mouth. It was actually a strategic maneuver that perfectly coincided with the appropriate time to show shock, as she wasn’t covering a gasp but rather covering up the old fashioned that she had snorted out of her nose. She kept her hand over her mouth until she was sure there was no evidence on her upper lip and to give herself something to bite to keep herself from screaming as the inside of her nose burned from the whiskey.

Maybe it’d go away if she took another sip of her drink. (It didn’t, but perhaps a bigger sip?)

"I have a feeling he only pretends to be so disgustingly stupid, and I'm well-versed in the art of lying to someone's face," said Jack. "But, your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

Lying was a weird habit to brag about. She didn’t really see any value in it anyway—there was never any need to lie if things were done right, while lying to protect people from the truth was just delaying the pain until later. Sloane looked at Jack, trying to discern if the only person he was lying to about being a good liar was himself. It was difficult to get a read on him, but that could just be because his face was obscured by the robes of his costume. It was unfair, but a small part of her was happy because it meant there existed a reality where he hadn’t just lied to her. Dishonesty was disgusting, unlike this old fashioned. It was starting to taste quite good.

“Yes, if you ever need anything just name it, Anya. But I don’t know about your theory, Jack. Sometimes people are just that stupid,” said Sloane, glancing out to the sea and thinking about how she’d seen Drake earlier. She went ahead and took that bigger sip. She might have finally acquired the taste for alcohol, but it still wasn’t making her feel good. Just a little too warm for comfort, actually. She was actually grateful to see that a cooling rain had startedt.

"As far as 'dates' go, it was the worst I’ve ever been on. It reminded me of why I haven't been dating for the last few years," said Anya. Sloane turned her head, interest piqued—and also to try and flag down another server. ”I don’t think I’ll be going on another anytime soon”

“I don’t know, Anya. Trevor is obviously a creep but if that was the worst date you went on I don’t see why you should give up on finding someone,” said Sloane, trading her empty glass for a full one. “Seriously. I’ve been on worse dates than that one this year.”

_Oh.
^Fuck!

One gulp and Sloane finished half her drink and, yes, if anybody asked the glass was half-empty. The panic set in, although panic in this case looked like a woman in her late twenties daintily dabbing at her lips with a cocktail napkin. Her dating life was not a subject that was up for discussion. It was something to keep locked away in her vault, next to all of her artifacts and counterfeits that were missing and a copy of her seven-year-plan for the city that was now absolutely useless because she was going to have to leave town after tonight. She had to pivot now and she had to pivot hard. So much for doing anything for Anya, Sloane was about to offer her up as a sacrifice again.

“You know what I think, Jack? I think to thank Anya for her sacrifice we should take it upon ourselves to find her an actual date with an actual guy who is deserving of someone so brilliant and beautiful. Don’t you think so too, Jack?” said Sloane, blinking out an SOS that even if Jack failed to pick up Anya would surely notice, so she tried blocking Anya from her view by brushing away at a phantom thread of hair. At all cost, she was going to avoid eye contact with Anya. She began to crane her neck, looking around the bar for eligible bachelors. “Surely we can find you someone here.”

“What’s your type anyway? You never really talk about guys,” said Sloane, forgetting what she had just told herself as she took a sip of her old fashioned and made eye contact with Anya. She didn’t pull her mouth away from the drink until her teeth touched glass, “Um, you too Jack. I’m sure we can find someone for you here too. I'll just play matchmaker. And keep an eye out for a server, also…”

Or a gun she could shoot herself with.

---

---

Rip.

Tear.

Rip and tear, tear and rip. Freshly polished nails flashing, claws slashing, in and out, animal style. Real savage ultraviolence. Faster and faster and faster. Teeth gnashing, eyes bulging, chest heaving. Rip and tear, tear and rip. Hands wet, face splattered. Kill, kill, kill. Soaked insides spilled all over the ground as limbs flew. Heavy breathing, seeing red. Hands ripping at her throat, claws tearing at her chest. More, more, more. All of history’s violence before this was just preamble, laying down the groundwork of brick after bloodsoaked brick for this massacre right here, right now.

Absolute carnage.

Pure horror.

No calls would be made when the body was discovered, drenched and eviscerated. No tape would be put up around the area, no sheriff would be shaking their head and questioning what sick fuck would do something like this, no lookie-loos would be trying to sneak a peek of the scene to add a little excitement to their boring routine. No time of death would be called, no next of kin would be called, and no funeral would be held. Nothing would come of the pointless violence, except perhaps the mild frustration of a groundskeeper as they went about picking up the torn up bits of synthetic fiber and cheap polyester that made up the shredded remnants of a giant stuffed bear and a crocodile onesie.

An act of frustration?

Or a warm-up?

The top of a black hoodie poked out from around the scene of the crime’s corner, nearly impossible to see in the rain. The storm continued to expand over the festival, the light drizzle gaining a bit of umph and turning into a proper rain shower. The black hoodie joined the crowd that was still too determined to have a good evening to let a little rain ruin it, unaware that they had become camouflage and human shields. Families with young children, teenagers on first dates, and young adults desperately trying to hang on to that qualifier paid little attention to the black hoodie as they passed by, unaware that they had just brushed against death but were fortunate enough for today to not be their day. The black hoodie pulled back its sleeve, massaged its wrist, and flexed its fingers.

Five digits, five targets.

Which little piggy was first?

But first: buzz buzz, buzz buzz! A neon pink phone vibrated in its pocket, the catchy pop song used for the ringtone drowned out by the noise of the festivities.

“Yeah?” said Vashti, muffled by the shawl covering the lower half of her face. She pulled the Leviathan’s Veil away from her mouth. “Sorry, what? What? Fucking what? Who!?”

A pause.

“You mean Lila?”

Another pause.

“Mmm, this kinda sounds like a hate crime, bro. Huh? Oh, no, I’ll take care of it, obvi. Can’t let them make us look weak. Hm? What do you mean by who’s them? Them as in Sycamore them. What other them is there?” asked Vashti, her eyes widening in shock as she cackled wickedly. “Ohmigawd, dude! Dude, stop! You’re the worst! I’m hanging up. Don’t you ever call this number again!”

For now the little pigs were safe, there was a loose bird that needed caging. Vashti pulled the shawl back up over her nose, covering the cruel smile on her face. With the shawl over her face and the black hood over her head she looked like the kind of person who attended a peaceful protest because it gave them the opportunity to throw molotov cocktails and smash in windows. A Halloween costume that was in poor taste at best and an understatement of things to come at worst.

Not like she gave a shit.

Time. To. Hunt.

Gazing across the dark at the girl at once filled the observer with curiosity and dread as one scene to the other passed through the mind of the slumbering Kenshiro Murakin. The Pit, the Mother Will, the Chalice... That girl, and the woman with pale skin. The Witch of the End... Ken felt his legs moving, running, trying to get to the girl and stop her or... Something. He wasn't sure, it felt like everything was just moving in place while he desperately tried to get out of the box he was stuck in. Screams couldn't escape, and suddenly it was his Sister's face. His Mother's. Torn asunder by the Hunters as the dream spiraled off into the ether.

He awoke high in a tree, hanging from the net he'd secured with a couple kunai buried deep in the fleshy wood. The thousands of branches beneath him gave the impression that there was solid something below him. But, this was no ordinary tree. As Ken stretched his limbs in the makeshift hammock, the branch above him began to vibrate gently from its base. This caused the hammock to rock and sway even more, until one of the Kunai pulled itself from the limb with a bloody discharge as the large vein began to squirt the tree's blood from the limb.
This had several effects: One, a side of the hammock let itself loose, removing any support out from underneath Ken. Two, the tree's blood spattered across his Gi and face as he began to fall which caused great discomfort. Third, in a reaction of pain, the tree's conscious mind moved all of the limbs between Ken and the ground out of the way to let him fall straight down to the ground. Still disoriented from the terribly vivid dream and the spatter of hot tree blood, Ken fell for a few dozen feet. It would have been a death sentence for many others, but then many others wouldn't spend their time this far up a Living Redwood. The impossibly tall and lanky creatures were massive wurms whose mouths and faces were buried dozens and dozens of feet beneath the dirt, whose massive stalks resisted the wind as they climbed higher toward the light.

It was a bit ironic in a poetic way that he felt much safer up here falling down than he did on the actual ground of this place. Cloth blew around him from his clothing, and he pulled a loose bit up to wipe the sticky coppery brown from his face. Eyes opened to the sky, disorienting in a falling position as there's very few references as to the speed of descent. He couldn't waste anymore time: Hands flicked together, fingers snapping from sacred position to position as Purple Lux rushed toward the band tied around his right bicep, then back out into his hands.
"Murasaki: Enlighten!"

His downward momentum halted, the very cloth around his body slowing his now weightless form to a glide through the sparsely packed trees. Once he was at a slower pace, he began to lighten even the clothes and his equipment until he wasn't falling at all, but rather hung in the dense air as if on a cloud. He checked his vest and his pouch, taking inventory of what he had left for this excursion, and determined that he was right to follow the urge that was now bubbling in him after that strange dream. He felt the call of his own Realm. Shimmer's calm embrace felt reserved and threatened in that dream, as if nothing was right. It couldn't have been if a human was involved... They either saved or ruined everything they touched.

He was still facing the sky, staring at the twin suns of of this world from behind darkened glasses meant to block the harmful rays. Sunglasses he bemused. Sucking in through his teeth, he felt the Lux heavy atmosphere around him and wished some of his friends could come with him. That one day he'd like to take them to these places where the magic is stronger, and where they'd be able to transcend their mundanity on Earth. Places like the Hidden Villages, where the magic was thickest...
To be fair, St. Portwell is similar. Tennogama has said so of his own volition.
In a place like this, the magic flowed like blood through his veins, making even the most complicated spell a simple task. Even from this Enlighten, he had so much control over his weight and direction that he easily stood up in mid air as if there were a solid floor of stone beneath him. This took focus in Shimmer, or other realms more closely mirroring it along the Infinite Chain.

But he had to leave. He'd been untrue to his instinct before, and for that he was unable to save his family from their doom. He would not do the same thing again.

He knew not yet what he was to find in that sleepy City, in which the Toad hides and the Snake lies in unrest beneath the soil. Not yet.

Ken let his hands and arms receive a great deal of Purple Lux, drawing it from both within and without his body. Feet planted firmly on the nothingness, Ken reached for the sword at his side. Long, deep breaths carried his arm slowly, precisely, with absolute and utter authority to the grip. Purple Lux transferred from the man into the blade, and he began to chant into the air, the ancient mantras of the Ten Paths. Each Kanji representing the ten colors of Lux bubbled through the air in purple flames that appeared from nowhere, until finally Ken held the tone pitch perfect for several seconds. In those seconds, the vibration from his voice box passed along through his bones to the sword he gripped. In a single slash, the blade flicked upward through the air, the blade resonating with such a powerful frequency that the vibrations caused it to lose its shape so that it looked like an airborne torrent of metal.

The rend in reality revealed a tatami sliding door, which slid open for Ken as the rapidly vibrating sword was slid back into its sheath and made the most deafening silence one could imagine. He looked back one last time on this savage landscape, not knowing when he'd be able to return next, and took one last deep breath at the hellish landscape of flesh trees and flatulent monstrosities that belched sulfer gas and other dreadful awful things. Maybe powerful Adepts came from this place, but it wasn't worth looking at this awfulness everyday... It was his first time looking at the ground since yesterday, and it disgusted him for the last time.

The door slammed shut behind him with a loud resonant "Thwack!", leaving the wretched place behind. A few thousand feet away, in a nearby flesh tree, a single kunai sat stabbed into the woody flesh, and would probably stay there until the beast one day died and decayed.

---

Life is so silly
You could be born a Flesh Tree
The Gods are all sick

---

The pathway door opened just where he wanted it to: At the foot of Tennogama's shrine, where the old Toad would be waiting for him to come back. The lucky thing was, he'd always know if Ken was alive or not; he was intrinsically aware that Tennogama needed Ken alive for the Pact to remain in place, which meant that if he was still stuck in St. Portwell, the reckless young human had to be alive. Not that it didn't pain him to think of his only guard being out trotting about the Allverse without any kind of true backup, of course... But what could he do besides complain to someone who wasn't interested in listening?

Tennogama's spirit sat in the cool afternoon air, letting the water of the brook run across his underside while he laid back against a natural rock face and smoked his pipe. It was a mystery what he was smoking, but Tennogama himself knew that it was the loudest swamp-grown evergrove leaf that could be grown in the Realm of Gam, freshly burned at an offering on the other side every morning and every night to insure that he was kept well stocked with material to smoke in the equivalent of their spirit realm: The Shimmer. As Tennogama inhaled, the Kai Pathway began to burn a hole in reality that signified a member of the Murasaki Clan was fast approaching. The great spirit looked at it with the same secret bemusement that he did the first day he saw something like it, watching the colors of the flames dance about the door that eventually slid open and deposited an almost always half drained and starved Kenshiro.

Ken emerged across the mouth of the brook from the Toad, destined to stare at his great golden skin in all its basking glory. The spirit's presence was warming in a literal sense, the density of magic around it pooling moisture in the air and trapping heat that rolled up off the lake. It gave the area a constant fog, not that it protected the Emperor's modest staff in any great way. The spirit, bereft of modesty, could tell immediately that there was a troubled air about his Bondsman. Though the two simply stared between one another for a span of time, their minds and eyes were locked in the constant back and forth battle of "Who will ask who first?"

"D-daijoubu desu ka? (You are... Well?)"
The spirit's voice croaked like a thousand boulders tumbling into a pool of water, his ancient voice made far more convenient for croaking and barking than speaking the Human tongue.
"Honestly? I don't know yet. I had an awful dream, Sensei."
"And now you return because you fear?"
"Maybe... I am... I am hungry for some tacos down by the Harbor District as well."
Tennogama's eyes closed gently, and he inhaled another tug of smoke from his long, thin pipe. For a moment he made no motion, but exhaling brought about a gentle nod.
"You... Were right to return. I have felt a disturbance in the Magic. Things are happening that were not before."

Ken took a long and deep breath, inhaling the mist that billowed from Tennogama's direction; magical vapor from a pipe that didn't actually exist. His hands came up to his face, pulling the cloth half mask and the wide hood off his head. Patting himself down, he nodded up at Tennogama.
"Then it looks like I'm back for the foreseeable future. Let me go catch up with reality and I'll start rooting around, trying to figure out what's going on."
Tennogama gave a loud, guttural croak from the deepest part of himself. It was expressive of deep satisfaction, and these croaks and ribbits and barks that came from within were the preferred method of communication. Ken had long ago learned to read them, and took that as his permission to be dismissed. He traveled down the shore of the lake a few hundred feet before lazily throwing his hands together in a jumble. Another enlighten spell: At first he wobbled as he stepped onto the surface of the water, but remembering the depth of control necessary here in the Shimmer, he focused the magic closer to the soles of his shoes and feet.

Rather than actually walking like a solid surface, small bubbles of trapped and pressurized air kept him aloft above the water like a staggered stone pathway across a pond until he reached his destination. The sixty or so foot houseboat was a sturdy construct that sat in the middle of the lake at almost all moments. Though there was a dock, the resident himself didn't need any particular path to get on or off the vessel, so he saw no need to fuss with docking it unless he was too exhausted to get out there himself. It had happened a few times, thus he kept a heavy iron chain tied from the boat to the dock; worst case scenarios he could tug the thing back to dock and flop over the side.
The interior was sparse, mostly open space except for a kitchen and the bed at the second floor loft. The walls without windows were covered in storage, lockers upon lockers of tools and somatic supplies that so often needed refreshing between excursions. Not to mention the bundles of Blind medications, pain killers and other modern medical supplies that he'd adapted into his emergency kits. Otherwise, there was nothing except for a hatch to the ship's bilge and a small table with a radio and a little electrical outlet into which a small cell phone was plugged, and an equally small vintage radio with two batteries sitting next to it in upright positions. In the loft, besides his bed, was a small candle burning shrine with a stone pylon front and center. Without pictures, the faces of his long dead family members slowly fade from his mind.

Only pictures of himself with some of the Sycamore Tree kindred dot the otherwise bare walls of that upper space. He pulls the clothing from himself layer by layer, the sweat and blood and grime causing the various cloths to become rigid after peeling from one another and ultimately his chest. His lithe, slightly malnourished figure was made of very little body fat, but in the reflection of a window he caught sight of himself and saw his ribcage like a xylophone on his torso, and he took a deep breath. He'd been pushing himself too hard, even he had to admit that. He hoped in that moment, as he reached for his phone to turn it on and head down to the bilge for a shower, that he was just psyching himself up over nothing.
He spent until the early evening held up in that bilge weeping deep and sorrowful tears at the news that his instinct had, in fact, been right. Something awful was happening, and by the dates of the texts and phone messages that were left on his device, he was more than a week late.

It was hard for Kenshiro not to feel responsible. His ego combined with his trauma in the most hellish feeling of self hatred and rage. Who the fuck is this Father Wolf? He doesn't have a fucking clue who he's dealing with. It took Ken the several hours of processing to recuperate, letting the cold filtered lake water wash over him and run back out into the body of water from whence it came. It cleansed him of the pain long enough to think of revenge. In a sick way, by the time he was done with the panic attack, he was fine. Better than fine, he had a goal clear ahead of him, and it was more tangible than chasing the ghosts of his other family ever was. The entire Coven, after all, had not died.
Auri Auclair had reached out to him, asking him to a meeting at the beginning of the week which he'd missed. But looking at the date filled him with hope. That if she was going to be anywhere on this night, he knew exactly where that was. With the majority of his actual storage in the bilge, he set about unpacking his yearly attire for the Halloween Festival.

The others told him that he was supposed to change the costume every year, but Kenshiro failed to see the point. It was like a personification; the costume chooses you just as much as you choose the costume. As he pulled the two bags out of his big storage chest, he gave a very subtle grin. There was pain behind it, as he remembered some of the good times he'd had with it on. And now more people were gone. More, after the Stygian Snake, not from some random happenstance. He wasn't coming home to a drug overdose or a car crash funeral. He was coming back to a place where his final shot at a family was being terrorized by some nameless, faceless thing...

And it all has to do with Raven Jones... Who the fuck is Raven Jones?

His teeth gritted together, but he shook it off and proceeded to don his costume.

---

As the storm formed over the Cracker Island Historical District, the thunder somewhat muffled the loud popping blasts that signaled Kenshiro's descent from high altitude toward the dot below. The island was awash with lights, and roughly a quarter of a mile before he made contact, he began to put the breaks on. Flight wasn't direct, nor was it precise; rather Ken had gotten to be something of a master at sling-shotting himself around by slinging a few spells together. Enlighten, combined with the martial techniques of Ten Ton himself, meant that the amount of power that Ken could output from his legs and arms was like scaling up a grasshopper and an ant at the same time.
Manipulating his weight by shifting it at different points during flight, he could adjust for trajectory and accuracy like a guided artillery shell. With concentrated bursts of air trapped and pressurized by Phantom Hands, like how he crossed the water previously, he can make much harsher and more broad angle adjustments, as well as using them as airbag breaks that give up and bleed off velocity little by little.

All this pressurizing and popping makes Ken's Flight sound like a twin engine plane with a blown out propeller; all this to say that it was convenient for him that a localized storm had gathered in the area. Only, the full picture of it from above really gave the weather system away. He could tell from such a distance that it was clearly magical phenomena, as all around the horizon, no other clouds were so low and densely packed. Something was already awry, and it smelled like trouble. He took a low arc, readjusting to gain the trajectory he desired near the edge of the island. With the goal of getting a vantage point, his right hand reached into his favorite part of the costume, pulling out a small bundle of copper wire. Instantly, Purple Lux arced across the metal's surface, vibrating and finally vaporizing into nothing.
Time slowed to a crawl in Ken's mind, and the clarity allowed him to see all the faces that he was slowly hurdling toward. Thankfully, he was dressed in all black and backed by dark storm clouds by this point, ultimately making him difficult to spot from the noises alone as they took time to travel toward the ground.

He saw a familiar face. One he didn't like, and one that filled him with an impulsive rage that made him want to do bad deeds with his gifts. Emily G. Reed... Every story he heard, every interaction he'd witnessed, he knew she wasn't just any normal dick. She was an asshole, and Ken knew that he'd rather be a dick than an asshole... I may be dirty, but I'm not full of shit. Beside Emily was one of her cronies; Ken didn't have time to distinguish targets. He only guessed that they weren't getting killed left and right like Sycamore...
The spell effect ended, and Ken's free hand reached for another goodie. Pressure built around him slowly, a rather gentle shot flung him in a lazy way over the festival grounds. As he released and began to fly forward, he took a deep breath for Channeling his aura spell and yarded back like an MLB pitcher.

The wad of paper and colored gun powder zipped through the damp air toward Emily G. Reed and her freshly fixed costume. Ken only heard the gasping puff of air that the smoke bomb made as it released its payload all at once into a dusty cloud of smoke filled with black tar. It stuck to everything it wafted over, with Ken's dispersal of the air around him causing it to spin like a little tornado in one spot. Safe in mid air, Ken looked for the place with the most beautiful flowers, then landed somewhere inconspicuous nearby before immerging.
Surprising a port-o-potty user just getting out of their bathroom break, The Batman stood in full regalia with the sleek armor and the vaguely gothic aesthetic that he'd come to learn and like from his friend Leon and his family. He assumed they were here too, they always were on Halloween. However he had business, and frankly he hoped that Auri wouldn't take his dressing up as some kind of offence as he approached her Flower Stand. The triangle-shaped CLOSED sign wasn't such a beacon of hope, and he grumbled to himself about the damned rain. Dogwood bark was an essential part of his kit, and he pulled out a small bit of it from one of his utility belt's pockets.

Holding onto the bark tightly, Ken flicked his fingers together and apart a few times in seemingly random order, but to those whose eyes are opened, they'd see a glowing golden light overtake Kenshiro's hands, and from them poured a couple dozen tiny tree frogs of various colors and shapes. The largest one still fit well within Ken's palm, and roughly two dozen scrambled into neat and tidy rows. They even had little yukata tops on, and some were sporting headbands or other head gear. He spoke to them strictly in Japanese, and quiet so that any observing blinds would only assume he was a little crazy.
"Auri Auclair, guys. We need to find Auri; you know the Butterfly Priestess."
There was an immediate and resounding Hai!, at which point the frogs scattered to the winds as if they'd never been there in the first place. Now he was on the hunt again, and like usual, hunting without tracks.

Batman skulked into the rain, hoping to find Auri, or someone who could point him toward her.

Halloween Festival, Near the Haunted House
_{Mentions: @Punished GN, @AtomicEmperor}

---

---

---

---

And just like that, Britney left. Along with Sabrina. Layla wasn't sure how she felt. Relieved?

No.

Abandoned?

How sensitive was she?!

Well, currently, exceptionally. It wasn't Britney's fault, some of the coven members actually really depended on her.

”Don't get soft on me, sweetheart.”

Layla stiffened, and turned her face away as Britney and Sabrina left.

I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know?"

That piqued Layla's curiosity. She remembered… she remembered what she knew of Mr. Devola. She had met him near the beginning of the fight against the snake, when she was still so little. Never feeling comfortable calling him by his first name, she had instead opted to call him by his last.

Her gaze shifted to look up at him. Was he really concerned about ensuring everyone was safe? Or was this… something else?

What had Linqian whispered to him? Why had they acted so secretive for a moment?

And… Did Mr. Devola consider her weak? …He’d be right. For now, if she could help it.

Layla pursed her lips, and tried to shrug the thoughts away as Mr. Devola spoke.

"So how have you been, Hon? Not sure if you remember me at all, but my name's Greyson. I didn't see you at the meeting the other night, you not want to show up? You didn't miss much."

“I was there… briefly. I guess you would have missed it, I had a new buddy with me.”

She sighed. “Only Anya seemed to agree with me. She's got her head on straight, I'll have to talk with her again. But I was… uhm… called out before the meeting concluded.”

She paused, wondering how much she could tell Mr. Devola. Did he know anything? She… she hadn't had a chance to talk with Miss Vorpal again since their first fateful meeting. No, that wouldn't take place until sometime after the festival.

Maybe she wouldn't talk about her new friends. Their plans. But she could maybe share some of the burden, some of the pain in her heart, yes?

Maybe… At least one other Sycamore member would get how she felt. Because currently, it felt like the world was against her, and she was alone.

Betrayed and alone.

Brutally betrayed and alone.

Layla clenched the cloth of her bee costume before she held up a wrapped hand. The bandage was removed, unwrapping layer by layer until Layla showed Mr. Devola what was underneath.

Fresh, deep bite marks marred her skin, cuts and tears of sharp teeth blemishing porcelain skin.

She held it for a moment, before quickly wrapping the bandage again, hiding the marks. She didn't want anyone else to see.

Rage bubbled in her, tears pricking her eyes.

“They took… Everything from me.”

Arms wrapped around herself, still feeling cold despite the wringing out Sabrina performed.

“Now… Now everything is back to normal. What my life has been for the past twelve years.”

A sick laugh escaped her throat. “Maybe I should thank them. Who was I to think I'd ever be free?”

The laughter died out, and Layla hung her head, staring at the ground.

“We should… uh… move to the Haunted House.”

Before she remembered.

“Oh, uhm…” Now she felt a bit awkward. “Were… there any more leads given during the meeting? Anything I missed?”

What if she was missing something crucial?

---

_{A collaboration with @NoriWasHere}

---

---

Isabella Blackthorn stood on the cold night, the tiny ember from her cigarette lighting up her face. She grimaced before blowing out a smoke ring. Tonight was a big deal for Mother Cards.

Why?

Well, the new paintings they ‘acquired’, of course. Apparently they were an entire set, and everyone, especially thieves, knew your haul was more valuable when you had every candy in the tin.

She held a small briefcase in her other hand, containing everything she would to make this deal go as smoothly as possible. They were artists, they would dig this, she had no doubt.

Isabella flicked her stubbed cigarette down, stomped it out, and glanced at the parking lot. A car idled in the darkness, her ‘bail out card’ in case things went south.

Doubtful, though. No one ever complained when there was money to be made.

A scowl settling on her features, Isabella pulled on the brim of her hat and stepped into the building.

As she stepped through the door a small, hidden button captured Isabella as she entered the building. The halls were empty, but a few stray heads leaned out random doorways watching the arrival of a potential client. Right in front of the door there was a large painting of a road that stretched to the horizon. On either side of the road there were soldiers in armor, some with guns, and they numbered in the hundreds. On the road a small black dot began to grow larger. It was hard to make out at first but soon it was clear enough that a singular person was walking down the road in the painting, and as it grew larger the painting began to shimmer. The face of Alex soon appeared through the painting, and they stepped out of the painting itself.

“Welcome,” Alex spoke as they raised their hand towards Isabella, “to the 317.” It was well past their normal closing time however Alex was roped into this deal. Good money could be made, money that could be put back into the community and money that would help expand their operations here. They were skeptical however, did this break their rules on staying neutral? Would this bring unwarranted attention back on themselves? All Alex truly knew was that Faith had agreed to meet, and that it might take a lot of convincing to make a deal.

Isabella watched with intrigued as the painting shifted, and an entire person came out. Abstractions really were a wonder to behold, she thought.

Taking a step forward, she shifted the briefcase to the other hand and extended her free hand forward in a handshake. “Miss Blackthorn, at your service. Thank you for seeing me.”

She glanced around the lobby before her gaze returned to them. “Will the boss be joining us tonight, or will it just be us?”

“The boss is expecting you,” Alex responded as they waved for Isabella to follow. They walked back to the painting and they pressed their hand on the frame. The painting shifted slightly in front of their eyes, a second path splintered off from the main one, leading to a staircase down towards the bottom left of the frame. “Alex,” they gave their name with a weak smile, and offered their hand for leverage, “you’re not going far.”

Alex knew the meeting was on site, and they knew that keeping the layout of their operations a secret was needed, but it was literally one flight of stairs. Sometimes they did not understand the needlessly dramatic flair. Faith said it was to demonstrate the ability to transport people, assets, and more to and from the venue discreetly, and to Alex that made sense. But who would want to walk through a painting on the first meeting?

Isabella watched carefully as the painting shifted, then stared for a longer moment at Alex's outstretched hand. She couldn't tell right off the bat how this abstraction worked, but it was clear there was a lot of power in being able to move freely in and out of paintings.

Her head tilted curiously. Where did the stairs lead? What if this was a grand ploy to kidnap and trap a House of Cards member?

C'est la vie, mademoiselle. Isabella thought with a shrug before she took the hand offered.

“Good, good. I'm looking forward to this, Alex.”

Alex took a step into the painting, and turned back to face Isabella. “Do not stray from the path, do not interact with anyone but me, do not make any threatening gestures towards anyone else or me, and do not linger.” With that said, Alex turned around and entered the painting in full, pulling Isabella as they did. Alex was the first through, and as always the inside of this realm was a perplexing place. The soldiers that the painting had shown on the outside were very real now, and they flanked Alex on both sides of the road. In the distance, they could see several square and rectangular outlines. These were dormant paintings that they’d paired to this one in the past, and the outlines were barely visible now. The path cut sharply to the left, leading to a staircase that descended downward to darkness. At the end of the darkness was another rectangular portal, much like the one they just stepped through.

As they walked past the soldiers, a light went off in Isabella's mind. This was how the 317 managed a part of their security. How convenient to have full control over the ‘doors’ of their abode, especially when it came to less than legal activities…

The thought almost made Isabella smirk. Almost.

She stayed in step with Alex as they descended the staircase to the next portal.

As they neared the portal Alex looked back and saw each soldier staring directly at Isabella. All were equally annoyed at the outsiders presence, but content with the fact that they would only intrude on their realm for a short while longer.

“Hurry up now,” Alex stopped before the portal, “the boss is waiting for you on the other side.”

There was a scowl on Isabella's face as she felt eyes on her. The painting really was alive, after all.

She glanced at Alex as they stood in front of the portal, “Best not make them wait.”

She adjusted the collar of her dress, and stepped through without another moment's hesitation.

Isabella would be greeted by the sight of six paintings, all on the corners of a hexagram rug, with the painting she stepped out of being a short distance away. In front of these paintings an ornate chair was positioned to allow those who step out of the paintings a comfortable view of the show. In the middle of the rug an empty display case was positioned.

“So you must be my appointment,” Sypha spoke up as she left her office. “Sypha, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Miss Blackthorn, the pleasure is mutual.” Isabella said as she stepped through the painting, regarding the room and the regal person approaching them.

She gently held out a hand for a handshake before nodding to the office. “We have much to discuss today, in a deal I feel will be beneficial for both parties. Shall I follow you?”

Sypha was once again dressed well. She had on a vintage purple dress, gloves, and her overcoat was still on.

“Yes, please. Step into my office,” Sypha said as she led the way inside. She sat down and crossed her arms. “So. So you’re looking for a place to make a sale. Tell me more.”

Isabella smoothed out her dress as she took a seat across from Sypha. In one swift movement, she set her slim briefcase on her lap, rolled over the numbers, and clicked it open. A photocopy was place on the table, containing a snapshot of oil paintings framed in carved wood. Another photo was placed, showing a singular painting with an English countryside as the subject.

Isabella gestured to the photographs. “The late Arnold Turillo crafted paintings beloved to the auction house and the art scene in St. Portwell - an esteemed figure such as yourself would have heard of him.”

She gave the collection photograph a tap. “Now, his singular paintings are valued fairly well. $50,000 here, $90,000 there. But-”

She held up a finger, then drew an imaginary circle around the collection. “When you have the entire set, the estimated value skyrockets. We've calculated it to be worth about $1 million.”

Isabella paused, then carefully leaned forward in her seat.

“What we need is a fence to sell the collection as a whole. In the bustling art scene of St. Portwell, I know this won't be an issue for you.”

Now was the kicker. Isabella set her face straight and serious as she spoke.

“We're willing to split profits 70/30. Or…”

It was set unfairly, giving them only a sliver on purpose. To encourage them to choose the second option.

A gleam in her eye.

“We give you the entire profit. We only ask for one thing in return. One of your… in-house artifacts.”

Sypha slid backwards in her seat, losing their pristine posture for just a moment. Their eyes slid from the photocopies, to Isabella, before back to the photocopies. If these were authentic, then the estimate was mostly correct. If they were authentic. They’d need to verify that first and foremost. The question, as always, was what the turnaround time would be, and what kind of exposure would this cast on their lowly art collective? These paintings were well known enough that it’d be the actual government coming for them, and they had resources and tools to track down those paintings. A million dollars would be a decent amount of money for the collective though so Sypha was still interested.

And they knew the first offer was a joke, and they knew it was meant to be as such. That begged the question, which artifact could they be after? They needed more information before they could continue. They interlocked her fingers as they leaned back forward.

“Which one?”

Isabella's answer was quick, without hesitation, betraying a slight excitement that was devoid from her face.

“A bound monster and its object. My boss tells me it's your organization's… lesser-known speciality.”

A single smirk crossed their face. Finally. Sypha leaned forward as they reached into their bag and grabbed a small notebook. “Well,” Sypha paused as they began to write, “Let’s say your boss is right. The paintings are your foot in the door,” they paused as they leaned back, “a cover charge for the party if you will. If you want to dance I’m happy to talk more about the cost of the event.”

Isabella nodded. She came prepared to empty the Cards’ coffers on this deal. Mother Cards specifically said that this particular deal was of the utmost importance for the future of the Family, and their plans to enact Void's last will and testament. Isabella had full power to direct and seal this deal, from the mouth of the Mother herself.

“Sypha, you have my full attention.”

“To start, you’ll need to provide this” Sypha paused as they slid the notepad across their desk. It was a single sentence and it would be one that Sypha knew would be much harder for them to acquire. It was ‘one evil person’ circled several times. “you’ll need to find the base. The worse the better and you will need to prove that they’re a bad person.”. Sypha paused as she pulled the notebook back and wrote down a large number. “Second, we’ll need an additional five hundred thousand dollars as a deposit. We’ll split the painting seventy thirty, seventy to us thirty to you, when the collection sells. A return on the deposit if you will.”

Isabella picked up the notepad briefly, eyes narrowing slightly. An ‘evil person’ would take some time to procure, but she could think of a few places to start.

She nodded at Sypha's next statement. “A deposit can be done at a moment's notice. Cash, wire transfer?”

A slight pause, before Isabella held Sypha's gaze carefully. “Sixty forty, and you got yourself a deal.”

One of the first rules of business was to never accept the first deal. A little haggle, and everyone would be satisfied, she was sure.

“When do you need the base by?”

“I’m firm on the percentage,” Sypha paused as she sat forward, “And we can’t move forward with the spell until we have the base. The sooner, the better. I will reiterate, we need someone evil. I expect you’ll bring proof to verify this.

Isabella paused for a moment, before she nodded. Within the briefcase, she pulled out a checkbook. In elegant, practiced cursive, she wrote out a check for $500,000, signing the back and leaving the recipient blank. With a crisp tearing, she held the single check out to Sypha.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Sypha. I have the paintings on stand-by, we can transfer them over to you tonight.”

“Likewise, we’ll be in contact I’m sure. Alex!”

Alex was waiting on the other side of the door, ready and waiting for their guest to get bored and leave. Sypha shouting was the alert and Alex opened the door and motioned for Isabella to follow. They led them back through the painting, back out the the other side, and watched as they exited the building.

---

It looked like the information hadn't been as useless as Linqian thought it would be.

Surprisingly, Edict hadn't pushed her away or tried to create any distance even with Britney standing right there. He did the opposite - putting his arms around her almost automatically. Maybe the night extending beyond the festival wasn't off the table after all… Her eyebrows raised when he took her hand, before smiling at the feeling of a thick, paper wrapped block underneath her fingers. The following movements to cover up the whole transaction, from his pocket to her handbag, were incredibly impressive.

And a little too attractive. She almost rolled her eyes at herself for that.

Linqian could've gagged over how Edict got over Britney. His smile was sickeningly sweet, it was almost jarring compared to the normal Edict. This time she really did roll her eyes. At least Britney ran off before he could start saying some grossly romantic shit or something.

”Linqian, please go with them... I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know? You're better with those people than I am anyway. We'll catch up, and yes I'll take a Stel. Thank you.”

“Got it,” Linqian agreed easily, the extra weight in her bag more than enough to stop her from getting annoyed at essentially being told what to do (albeit politely) - and the fact she hadn’t offered to get him a drink. But it was fine. If she thought about it, he was essentially paying for a glorified bar service! On top of the information. Though at the end of the day she was still herself, and had to get a little snide about it. ”Wasn't going to ask, but fine- A Stella for you, and I’ll get a bottle of water for the non drinker.” Linqian smiled somewhat convincingly at Layla. ”On me.”

As much as she always claimed her brother had the brains, Linqian wasn't actually stupid. She may not be academically intelligent, but she was smart enough otherwise. It was immediately obvious to her that Edict wasn't staying with Layla to make sure she was protected. She'd just given him information about the void's sealing, which he'd paid handsomely for (unless he'd handed her a massive stack of one dollar bills), and now he wanted to have a nice chat with Layla alone? Connecting the dots wasn't hard. Why it was so important to him she didn't know, nor did she care, quite frankly. She'd been paid and would keep doing whatever she needed to to get paid again.

Including making herself scarce, and going after Britney.

”Don't have too much fun without us,” Linqian smirked, before turning on her heel and hurrying after Britney and Sabrina. She didn't want to stick around, anyway, after she caught the start of Edict laying it on thick with Layla. As she walked, she carefully opened her bag to rearrange the things inside. The envelope was moved underneath the tupperware and beers, and the gun slipped down the side of them so it was easy enough to get out but not so easy to see. Satisfied, she closed her bag and covered it with her cloak.

Nothing could restore Linqian's good mood like a massive stack of cash. There was a slight bounce to her step as she followed Britney into the drinks area. Now nothing else could ruin her night, nothing-

Except Bianca and Evelynn drinking together.

Just like that, Linqian chest tightened and pure hatred seized her. Seeing Evelynn was enough to put her in a bad mood, but her cosying up to Bianca? That was too fucking much. Fuck. Linqian couldn't fucking believe it. It hurt more than she wanted to admit. It really fucking stung. Bianca had fucking seen what happened! She’d offered her fucking condolences and said she wanted to meet up again. Now she was cosying up with the fucking enemy? The person who said Jinhai deserved to be fucking dead? Bianca had gotten on with her brother- she’d practically been a part of the fucking family for the time she was there. Yet she was fucking drinking with that bitch? Fuck. This was the fucking worst.

Linqian tore her eyes away from them, dark red lips twisting down into a nasty scowl. Part of her really wanted to go over and slap Evelynn again... But the colder, more detached part stopped her. Evelynn didn't deserve the effort right now. She was dead to her. Something to be ignored. She felt nothing towards her at all. She wasn't even worth having feelings over. A cold apathy washed over her, pushing away the residual fiery rage. She would completely ignore Evelynn's existence.

Linqian looked back over, gaze ice cold as it passed over Evelynn as if she wasn't there and came to rest on Bianca. It softened slightly there. She looked cute, dressed as a werewolf- shit, they practically matched. Her expression lightened slightly. Bianca caught her gaze and grinned, giving a small wave. Linqian's lips twitched slightly upwards towards more of a straight line than a scowl. She immediately turned away, giving them both the cold shoulder and going over to Britney.

”Can't believe all it took was some sexy maid outfits for Stormy to fall in with the feds,” Linqian muttered, watching him gather them for drinks (out of his pocket). Fucking typical. She looked up at Britney, and realised that she hadn't been there when the PRA had ruined everyone's day a week ago. She'd have no idea who these people were, and had barely paid attention to anyone beyond Lila. Which was strange, cause Lila looked perfectly fine. Linqian gave Lila a nod, because she may be friends with Lynn but she was impressively anti-fed, before leaning in towards Britney.

”Oh yeah the annoyingly hot maids are the ones that tear gassed us last week,” Linqian said in a low voice to Britney (and Sabrina). She tried to subtly point to Meifeng. Lila could definitely hear her too, but that wasn’t exactly a problem since she clearly didn’t like the PRA either. ”That's the leader. An absolute fucking bitch- Bianca says she not normally like that, but I don't believe it... oh yeah, Bianca's part of the PRA too. Between us we've got exes in the worst groups possible - the mafia and the government. Lucky us.”

Linqian lips twitched up into the semblance of a teasing smile. Though, she knew which one she'd choose to work with any day - and actively did. She'd sooner starve to death than get a job like Bianca's.

Now that she was coldly ignoring her ex she kind of still liked and her worst enemy drinking together, and Stormy making nice with the feds, she actually took note of the situation. Namely the awkwardness. Luca looked like absolute shit and was clinging to Jasper like he was about to jump his bones (which surely wouldn’t be fun for anyone), Lila looked distressed and of course Stormy said that ‘nothing happened’ while essentially telling Britney to fuck off. Which clearly meant something had happened, that much was fucking obvious, but Linqian had no idea what.

And again, she really didn’t care. All she wanted was another drink and to be out of this uncomfortable atmosphere… But the drinks line was long. Far too long.

”There isn't another drinks stall is there?” Linqian eyed the queue with disdain. Surely there must be, in a festival this big. She'd give anything to avoid being in that crush of bodies. She still had two cans in her bag, but there were three of them here and then Edict who'd already put in his order with her. ”Or literally anywhere else we can buy drinks? I don't like the look of the queue, and Stormy clearly isn't inviting us along.”

---

---

"I have a feeling he only pretends to be so disgustingly stupid, and I'm well-versed in the art of lying to someone's face."

Anya found it almost funny how Jack thought she needed help with the lying part of the whole situation. That showed just how well she'd mastered 'the art of lying to someone's face.' It was so easy to keep a lie that people wanted to believe. Of course she was the unfortunate one in this situation, forced on a horrendous date where all she could do was grin and bear it. There had been no manipulation on her part, of course, or subtle nudges towards information. None at all.

Ah, it was so nice to make people believe that had control, or were superior, when they truly weren’t.

Her dark brown, carefully painted lips curved up into an agreeing smile. She didn't need them to see her talent for what it was. After all, the fact that they both truly believed her to be a good person proved just how well she was doing it.

And unlike Jack, she didn't idiotically brag about her lying ability (which really defeated the purpose of lying in the first place). She would keep up the facade until she passed, or it was no longer necessary.

”Thank you, Jack. You too, Sloane. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t plan to meet him again unless we need more information, which is unlikely right now. I’m sure by then he’ll have forgotten about me, and you can take my place. I think Sloane is right, though, I think he is just that stupid.”

Anya’s eyebrows raised as Sloane mentioned her own dating life. It was one thing the two of them never discussed, like an unspoken agreement that it was something neither had an interest in sharing. Though now that Sloane had let it slip, albeit accidentally it seemed, she was curious. Anya allowed her to change the subject awkwardly, while making note of the information. With Sloane she knew pushing would only cause her to withdraw.

Though them finding her an actual date with someone deserving of her (which was no one) wasn’t an idea she was fond of. She watched Sloane who was acting strangely - refusing to make eye contact and brushing back her hair, when her hair was perfectly how out of her face.

”I don’t really have a type,” Anya replied honestly, deciding not to try and keep up a socially acceptable pretence around them when it came to dating. While very few - perhaps no - people were allowed to see the real Anya, these two were her friends. Well. Sloane was her friend, Jack had newly reentered her life, so that still wasn't definite in her eyes. She didn’t really do friends anyway. Sloane was a bit of an exception there. ”To be perfectly honest, I have no interest in dating, and that’s why I don’t talk about guys. If you want a physical type, I can give it, but that’s not what you’re looking for. I’m quite happy to be single, and plan to stay that way for the rest of my life. Romance doesn't appeal to me." It was more than that, but explaining a lack of romantic attraction whatsoever always lead to more questions. "It’s not like I haven’t been through a long list of eligible bachelors provided by my parents. I can’t say any of those dates, well, marriage meetings, were bad, but it made me realise it wasn’t something I wanted. My parent’s didn’t take to kindly to that.”

Anya laughed lightly, though her gaze turned colder. Her parents were, and always would be, a sore spot. Even if she’d brought them up herself, it made her mood unpleasant. She finished her third drink and glanced around for a server Sloane was so desperately trying to find. Where had they gone?

”I do appreciate the offer,” Anya smiled, coldness in her expression disappearing. Even if Sloane had only brought it up to awkwardly cover up mentioning her own dating experience. She’d hidden it so clumsily that it was near impossible for Anya to miss - but thankfully for Sloane, Anya thought through all her actions enough not to bring it up. ”But Jack… I don’t imagine you’ve had many options in the void? I’m sure we can find someone for you, between us. There’s plenty of handsome, gay men in my field of work if there aren’t any here.”

---

---

Lihn smiled when the kid took the cat ears. He looked a lot less… racist with them on top of the outfit. More ridiculous, but he was young, what did that matter?

Then he started acting odd again. He walked away from her without saying anything - no explanation. It wasn’t the normal running of an angry or scared pre-teen either.

Lihn followed him over to the colouring table out of concern. It was the same table that Tayla was colouring at - Clancy approaching a man that Tayla was conversing with. Lihn raised an eyebrow.

Tayla was quick to leave - which was a shame, Lihn had hoped to exchange numbers with the other mom before leaving. Or at the very least give her a business card so she could get in contact. St Portwell was large, but Lihn interacted with a large proportion of the magical scene. Hopefully she’d meet her again. She understood her leaving, however. She wouldn’t want her family time encroached on either.

Lihn glanced over at her own daughter. Story time was wrapping up, but she had accosted the story teller himself and was bombarding him with questions. She’d have another few minutes before she came running over.

“Are you his Uncle?” Lihn asked Shayton, raising an eyebrow. Seeing Shayton made her even more confused about how Clancy had left the house dressed like that. “You should keep a closer eye on your nephew. This may be the kids' area, but there’s plenty of dangers for someone so young. Don’t let him lose you again.”

Lihn then looked over at Clancy with a smile. The energy between the two was… off, but it wasn’t her place to question it when the child himself had approached him. The calming emotional aura she’d been putting out momentarily brushed up against Shayton’s emotional field before immediately retracting as she stopped doing it. “I’m glad you found your… family member. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

---

---

"Oh there's one guy that'd have you beat when it comes to HR cases," Bianca laughed, pointing to the red power ranger. "Pretty sure HR is sick of his face by now, dudes in there every few days. It's badddddd."

Bianca sipped on the second beer, pocketing her ten bucks. She wouldn't say no to the free drinks... Though unfortunately she couldn't just down another. She was technically on duty, and while two beers wouldn't even get her tipsy it was best to take it a bit slower. So she could drink throughout the night, of course.

"Hey, I get it, that wasn't cool," Bianca held up her hands again, with a smile that said she really wasn't bothered by Lynn bringing it up. She'd already had the conversation with Linqian anyway. "We're not normally like that. Meifeng- my boss- really doesn't like when we get hurt. Eve punched me a couple of times over nothing and it just escalated. Can't take it back, but I'm sorry that shit happened. Shouldn’t happen again. We’re here to protect people against the paranormal, honest."

She went to answer how she'd been doing, but Lynn took a quick trip to the future - and Bianca kept an eye on her drink just like she'd asked to, as if anyone wanting to spike it could get through them. When Lynn came back Bianca grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

"Well, there's plenty of drinks to be had," Bianca glanced over at Britney, then back to Lynn. "Glad you're doing well... And hey, being a fed isn't really that bad nowadays, you should've seen who I used to work for!" Bianca laughed, seemingly joking. Though she wasn't. Her last boss had been a Nazi. "What's new with me, well... It's been ten years, so a lot. I work for the government now, been all around the place with it. Came back to St Portwell two years ago. It's been nice, even if there's a lot different. Not many people still around, and my job doesn't exactly give me the free time to see them anyway."

Stormy seemed to be taking off, gesturing for everyone to follow them. Bianca raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards Lynn. "Are you planning to follow them?"

Bianca was quite happy to stay here, finishing the beers - she'd followed her colleagues to the drink line for that, after all. She was also happy to follow. As she was waiting she felt a chilly gaze on her, hair at the back of her neck standing on end. She turned her head to the side and spotted Linqian staring at her. She was dressed up as red riding hood - if a slightly damp, tired looking one. It was cute. Bianca grinned and waved at her cheerfully.

As expected, Linqian turned around and completely ignored it. Ah, how difficult it was keeping up a friendship with an ex (who perhaps didn’t even want it). Bianca took another sip of her drink and glanced at Lynn, joking, “she’s so gonna block me again. Surprised she keeps unblocking me to be honest.”

---

---

Suddenly, Adora was pulled off her - and someone else was pulling her up too. The bees automatically split into two groups and swarmed up Casey’s hands too. Trisha didn’t recognise him, but the voice was familiar. She squinted at Leon through blurry eyes and quickly realised who it was. The enforcer himself! No wonder he was stepping in.

Having recognised him, though she had no idea who the other guy was, she silently told her bees to withdraw. Most of them flew back to her, crawling back inside her onesie. Three rested in her hair like guards in case anyone tried something else, and two flew circles around Adora while buzzing threateningly.

“Leon!” Trisha cried, immediately groaning and doubling over. Leon probably wouldn’t recognise her because he face was fucked up beyond recognition, but he’d probably recognise her voice (she’d yelled at him a lot back in the Stygian Snake days). Plus there weren’t many who had a whole swarm of bees they could control (though it was only a small amount of her actual hive). “She just started hitting me!”

She was an absolute sight. Blood flooded down her face from a broken nose, coating the top of her bee onesie until the yellow turned red. Bruises already bloomed all across her face. Her red rimmed eyes squinted up at the two men - she had difficulty opening them, and her vision was incredibly blurry. Her head ached, she could feel blood sluggishly dripping down from where it had hit the stall she’d been thrown into.

She was already sobbing from all the pain she was in, ugly tears streaming down her bloodied face. That wasn’t fake, even as she lied about whose fault it was. But Adora had taken it too far! Unable to take a few fucking words...

Her face was in agony - she was fairly certain more than her nose was broken! She was going to look awful for days! That bitch!

“I was just trying to have a nice chat with an old friend, bringing up other older friends, when out of nowhere she punched me. She just wouldn't stop, look at what she did.” Trisha gestured to her face clumsily, because she was incredibly dizzy and couldn't really feel her limbs. She hiccuped, tears still streaming down her face uncontrollably. "She... she... she ruined my face..."

---

“Why can I tell even though he’s wearing a costume,” Lynn joked as her eyes remained locked on the power ranger in question. There was a creepy aura that seeped out of the costume, one that screamed ‘HR code ppl violation speedrun champion’ and Lynn couldn’t help but laugh some more. He even stood like a guy who has a book of violations on file. Lynn joked about being in HR because of her behavior but she knew that she would never actually be a problem like that. Lynn shifted her eye from PRA member to PRA member. In this place, they did not seem all that bad. Maybe they were truly just trying to make the world a safer place. Maybe they weren’t all that different from a coven. Maybe they did not really mean to tear gas a peaceful gathering of people. Maybe. Regardless, Bianca believed it so and, as a good drinking partner, Lynn would not question it much further. Lynn turned her attention back to Bianca. “I’ll trust you on this,” Lynn paused as she pointed to her eyes, slipped to the possible future, before she returned back a second later. “I’d be able to tell if you lie,” she smirked as she returned to her drink.

Lynn shook her head as Bianca mentioned that her last boss was much worse. “What was bad about the last boss, I’ve been out of the magical scene for a minute.”She took another sip of her beer, slowing down to match Bianca. Lynn caught sight of Linqian and Lynn leaned forward as a quiet rage filled her face. It remained there for a minute before she pushed it back. Lynn could be angry all she wanted, but she fucked up when she said what she did, even though she was still very happy that it hurt Linqian the way it did. People that fought alongside Jinhai were also hurt by what she said. Lynn wondered if Bianca had known Linqian brother well. Still, the frost bitch of the sycamore tree coven seemed to be not paying attention to her so Lynn did the same. Fuck her.

Lynn knew that she would need to make amends to everyone who was hurt by her words, but tonight was not the night to start. It will come soon. Words would not be to tell her friends how sorry she was, instead it will be her actions.

Lynn looked over to Lila, and then Jasper. Her eyes caught Lila’s and Lynn made a movement sign with her hand (her pointer and middle finger walking on top of her other palm) before she pointed to Stormy. Lila waved her off, and used her thumb to point to Britney. Lila gave her a thumbs up and flashed a smile before she returned her attention to Britney. “I’ll follow the group for now, I don’t know if I want to stick around here much longer,” Lynn said in reference to Linqian, “though you’ll have to introduce your friends to me, I only know mommy Meifeng, Lynn whispered the name as she snuck a quick look back to the maids.

“Let me clean up my mess first,” Lynn said as she grabbed the empty bottles and walked over to the rubbish bin and disposed of them.

“I’ve been there with ex’s though, on both sides of the block button. I had to block my one ex Kari at..” Lynn winced as she dammed the alcohol for making her say something she otherwise would’ve kept secret. Lynn did not like revealing that the two dated. “.. the end of our relationship. I’ve had a few dudes block me as well though they were all giant pieces of shit.” Lynn tried to steer the conversation away from Kari.

The accidental reveal caused Lynn to think about her relationship with Kari for a brief moment. It was her introduction to the queer world she now frequents, and it was the last time she had a serious relationship with a woman. She would tell her stories about the possible future and what it could bring and Kari would do the same but with tales from the other dimensions. Lynn smiled at the thought. Their relationship wasn’t perfect but Lynn was happy back then, happier than she was now.

“Shall we,” Lynn motioned with her arm towards the departing PRA agents and Stormy.

When he'd asked her about the meeting, he realized she was talking about the Church. Lucky for her, she hadn't gotten wrapped up with the Feds. Unlucky for her, apparently she'd lost her inherited buddy. From what he gathered thanks to Linqian's handy information gathering, her situation went something like this: The night of the first meeting, Alizee Altieri gave up the ghost in a literal and metaphorical sense. The ghost, as vicious as it once was, didn't die... It was problematic for people like Auri who saw what Alizee did that night and thought that Void Heart would be best if he was out of the way. Edict hadn't known the girl too well, and he really didn't know this girl. But he did know that they looked similar. Lithe, pale, platinum hair and bad attitudes. He could only reckon the old Nut Ghost had a type.

“Only Anya seemed to agree with me. She's got her head on straight, I'll have to talk with her again.
God in Absence, she's beyond naïve.
Edict made a strong mental note to contact Anya and get her working this case with him. They were, he recognized, tools for one another's games. But he kind of liked that, and it made Edict feel similar to how he felt about Linqian: You can live, maybe. She unwrapped her hand, showed him her wound, and Edict did his best mimic of a surprised face. At the same time, he had to keep a straight face as he saw two tiny eyes cresting up over the side of one of the canopies holding a festival booth. Two golden eyes, sitting perfectly like two cresting suns over the horizon of canvas lining. One little... Hand? Paw? Foot?

A tiny, bright gold tree frog stared at the two of them with a discerning and judgmental stare. It wasn't there long, however, and before Edict could do anything about the strange creature, it was gone. He thought for a second it was wearing clothes. His head shook, and he cleared his throat.
"Auhh... You... You don't sound so good Layla. Maybe... Maybe I can help you?-"
He sincerely had no recollection of what her abstraction entailed, but he couldn't see many consequences present in giving her a quick magical once-over. If she had any serious cracks, like he thought she may have, she'd be a sitting duck for his powers. But, he stopped himself short. It was always easier to get permission for these sorts of operations; Once he was in with permission, it was hard to stop him from getting back in later unless you had some serious assistance or were somewhat used to the basic entry.

“We should… uh… move to the Haunted House.”
Edict nodded in agreement, the perfect chance to see if that little frog was really who he thought it was. But she stopped again, held still.
“Were… there any more leads given during the meeting? Anything I missed?”
Pulling out his phone to rattle off a text to Linqian, Layla gave him reason to pause and smile. Fire, flames, chaos, property damage...
"Well, long story short, we were raided by Police Officers. Federal police, actually, government agents more like. Magical people, like us. They attacked. I can show you if you don't mind me using my power."

That was a far more casual, far more devious way to suggest letting him in. Edict wasn't keen on leaving the spot he told the others they'd be in, so he was hopeful that she'd take the bait and he could drag the line into the boat so he could get a nice long look at his catch. He waited for her choice with phone in hand figuring that if for some silly reason he was denied, he'd still have to text someone to let them know there's movement. All he needed to really know was what the hell happened with the Sealing. He wanted to see what Britney had to do with it that would make her a target for anyone. It just didn't make sense in his mind that something so drastic could've happened, but the way he figured things made him feel like he was the only one who could get to the bottom of it.

---

---

Having managed to pull both parties off one another with ease, the two Jotun sized men stood across from one another. Leon specifically held Adora in a tight clutch under both arms, his massive forearms squishing Adora's chest while she vaguely struggled to get back to the punching. Casey didn't feel the same struggle from Trisha, and rather than holding her arm locked behind her back like she was part of the problem, he let her go. At first, Leon was a bit confused at the identity of the person bitching at him, but after a few moments and a few words through fat lips, he knew this wasn't just any victim of assault: It was a perpetual victim. The damsel in distress herself, the Queen Bee.

"Oh, wow... Trisha? God, what's the city coming to when a Vanburen can't walk safely among her people?" he asked sarcastically, the still struggling Adora beginning to mellow out.
"Dude, she's fucked! Look at this poor girls face, who are these two?"
Leon took a long deep breath as he avoided saying That's a Bee.
"Well this here is Adora PP, Phoenix-Prescott, or Appie, she hates all those nicknames. And she's a Vanburen so that really sums things up."
Casey's eyes widened a bit as he got a slightly better picture of things, and he turned to Trisha.
"Oh my God, Ms. Vanburen!? I'm so sorry about this, holy hell..."
"Yep, welcome to Sycamore Hell my favorite Little Brother. Ladies, my brother Casey. He's handsome and available. Speaking of, Case, could you please bring our lovely Ms. Vanburen to the place with the food? Have Andrade get her the jelly roll from the ice chest, I think that'll do the trick for the blood and broken bones."

Casey, still wide eyed at the carnage, frowned.
"Uh, sure Lee.-" he replied, looking at Trisha with a great deal of empathy. "Do you mind? Its just down the way, our Uncle has some food that can heal you. Videogame shit, but that's magic right?" he tried to be as polite as possible in offering the help to the woman whose family was St. Portwell Royalty that his mom and dad had spent his whole childhood striving for. He didn't know why he felt compelled to treat her like a princess; maybe it was the inherent respect for authority and hierarchy that filled his heart, or maybe it was the sight of a wounded woman that put him out of sorts.

Meanwhile, Leon had already begun moving Adora into a different direction. Speaking to her in a low voice as he let her go, Leon smiled down at Adora.
"When I saw it was you, I was gonna let you keep going. But I figured if it was good and right, we could both get some shots in together... Come on, let's not be near her now, and maybe we can get a beer. God damn look at that face..." he said, looking back one last time to wave his little brother and the young Vanburen off.
"What the hell brought all that on, huh?" he asked Adora, still laughing and shaking his head as he tried to shift the attention ultimately away from what had transpired.

Halloween Festival, Near the Haunted House
_{Mentions: @Punished GN, @AtomicEmperor}

---

---

---

---

"You don't sound so good Layla. Maybe... Maybe I can help you?-"

Layla's head twisted, her entire body stiffening.

Help?

What did he mean by help? Was he… referring to his powers? Ah, what was it again. He dealt with emotions, right? Layla couldn't remember entirely. And in that moment, she felt a heavy weight of anxiety.

She couldn't remember what he could do. And he wanted to… to help?

The last time someone wanted to help, someone ended up dead. Yes… Yes, how could she have been so stupid? When Jack portrayed himself as a saint, whisking her and Void to the Void. When Britney simply prattled on about how ‘she cared’ and ‘this was for the best.’

She trusted the people who wanted to offer her help.

And what did she get for it?

What did she get for it?!

Void was dead.

Eaten.

Her friend. The one who promised she'd see her family again, who was gonna keep her safe from all the monsters that plagued her.

Layla couldn't breathe. She could feel the tight, helpless grip of grief dig into her again, tearing at wounds that had barely set.

She couldn't risk agreeing to Mr. Devola, could she? She didn't even know what she was agreeing to!

"Well, long story short, we were raided by Police Officers. Federal police, actually, government agents more like. Magical people, like us. They attacked.”

Layla’s face paled at that. The police did what?! What the- Why? Why would they do such a thing?

What exactly did she miss?!

”I can show you if you don't mind me using my power."

Now there was the kicker. If she was hesitant before, this was the incentive to agree.

But, she felt she couldn't see a damn thing, as she stared up at Mr. Devola. He was impossible to read, appeared perfectly amiable. Did he have a darker motive?

Everyone did, when it came to the Sycamore.

Everyone.

It was like she was looking at a light in dark waters, unaware of the jaws held open, waiting.

But she wanted to know.

Did she risk trusting Mr. Devola like she trusted Jack? Like she trusted Britney?

She waited to hear the voice of Void in her mind, usually giving perfect advice. But right now? Dead quiet. She couldn't even decide what Void would say in this situation.

“I.. I don't know…” She started, her hands wringing as she stared as the ground.

She was really on her own, all alone.

Well… what was the worst that could happen?

She couldn't lose Void twice, could she?

The pain in her chest, the grief, the pain, could she shed it somehow, even temporarily? Like with how Miss Vorpal did at the speakeasy?

She looked up at him, a resoluteness in her eyes.

Maybe, maybe she’d let Mr. Devola ‘help’.

“Uh… sure… Do whatever you're going to do.”

And she reached out to the light in the dark waters.

---

---

“My last boss was just a piece of shit,” Bianca shrugged. Being a Nazi made you the biggest piece of shit, so it was a bit of an understatement. But unlike some of their members she didn’t just go spilling shit like that, as much as she liked Lynn. Certain things had to stay secret. “The details are… classified, sorry.”

She figured if she was open about not being able to tell her, Lynn would understand. Hopefully.

“Mommy Meifeng-” Bianca snorted, covering up her mouth with her hand before she spat up a bit of beer. Oh lord, she was not going to forget that nickname anytime soon. It fit too well… Damn, that was her boss. She had to not think like that. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll introduce you.” She shook her head, still laughing, and got up.

“Hey, it’s always the way with exes, I’m just surprised she keeps unblocking me,” Bianca shrugged, eyebrow shooting up when Lynn mentioned Kari. They’d dated? Huh. Must’ve been after the coven ended… Bianca didn’t press, cause she could tell Lynn didn’t want to talk about it and she wasn’t an asshole. “It’s a constant cycle. I reach out, she blocks me, then a year or so later I realise I’m unblocked and try again. She did have me unblocked for a solid couple of years, once, when in another relationship. Probably wanted to show off. Crazy. Not surprised piece of shit guys blocked you- this is why you should stick to women.”

Bianca flashed Lynn a bright grin. She adjusted her now slightly lopsided werewolf ears, before following after Stormy and the other agents. She tried to position herself right in the middle - so she could be in between her coworkers and the Sycamore Tree members essentially, leaving space beside her for Lynn if she still wanted to sit with her.

“I’ll have whatever Lynn is having,” she said, leaning back, completely relaxed. Of course, that didn’t last long when Stormy jumped right into it. He did know that they were federal agents, right? He was acting like a school teacher talking to two kids who’d gotten into a fight. She sniggered at that thought.

“Hey, hey, hey, c’mon Stormy, you can’t just jump into it,” Bianca leaned forward and waved her hands as if to stop a fight breaking out. “Let’s start with introductions, yeah? If we’re all gonna be drinking together. Everyone knows me, butttt,” she dragged out the word, gesturing to everyone else around the table, “none of you even know each other’s names. Well. Mostly. So, introductions. Then we can talk about what happened.”

Two could play at pretending to be a school teacher.