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Metamorph One     The 'distress call', spoken of in the broadest and most generous terms for such a brief and frantically confusing message, leads back through a surprisingly lengthy daisy chain of, in reverse order, radio relays, computer traffic sorters, broadband backbone routers, signal transformers, to a nightmare tangle of networked 'smart' electronics more suitably designed for mining bitcoin than turning on lights or flushing toilets. How someone got a signal from what appears to be a building's appliance cloud to the Multiverse as an audio message is already wild to consider before arriving. And then there's more to worry about.

    It's raining. The steady sussurus of water pouring from sky to street to drain smothers your thoughts in a calming blanket of white noise. The droplets are so heavy that they ripple in the thin sheen of water on everything. You can't tell whether the hazy mist is water or smog, but you can't see a cloud in the sky at all. The rain simply appears. It's so cold you almost feel naked under it. Like the rain is the only real thing in the world, not you.

    The place you meet is a street, urban as can be. The buildings lining each side climb so far into the fog that they disappear, feeling as if they reach up forever; looming so high that they barely leave space for you to exist, drowning you out. You can't even tell what they're for. Not really. The street sign to get here had been a QR code, and you're kind of sure it was floating. The walls around you are painted with blazing advertisements so dense that you can't actually locate a single logo that seems to explain what any given door leads to, turning your sense of sight and direction into a disorienting deluge of nothing-everything.

    A steady stream of vehicles runs through the roads at all times, the road markers lighting up on the surface in advance of them and disappearing behind; mercenary islands of light and guidance jealously clinging to rain-glistening cars of sleek design and inconsistent numbers of wheels. You don't need a single other pedestrian, though you see their shapes, here and there. Heads down, hurrying mechanically through the rain, hazy suggestions of people crawling in the narrow space between titanic windowless skyscrapers. You arrive at one like any other. The doors smoothly slide apart of their own accord in advance of an entrant, with a hermetic hiss of breath.

    There's a lobby. You're pretty sure it's a lobby. There's not much in it. A bland, square reception area, with four muted white walls and a polished grey-blue tile floor that feels like the stark bones of what should be an art gallery. The back wall has some kind of sprawling design of tangled triangles in overlapping spirograph-facsimile, but you can't tell if it's a logo or just postmodern art.
Metamorph One     There isn't so much as a fake plant or a place to sit, but there's an elevator, off in one corner of the room, enclosed in glass, and one, singular reception desk, with a wide keyboard and pale blue-glow monitor, stuck in the middle of the room as if some misguided executive thought of it as an avant garde statement, in a way that only looks slightly pathetically surreal. A single square of red carpet is set before it, wide enough for only one person to comfortably stand on. The pylons for a velvet rope are gathered up in one corner and left to gather dust. There are no lines here.

    As far as you can tell, the only-- Employee? Staff? Inhabitant? Probably staff--Around, is a single concierge waiting at the desk. A woman, you're pretty sure(?) of nebulously bored-expectant business persuasion, like she hasn't moved from that spot behind a desk in an empty room in hours. Her precisely tailored outfit sort of blends into the muted backdrop, and even her shoulder-cut hair is just as much blue as black, as if she were in the building's colours to start with.

    You might call her kind of pretty, with one of those model cutesy faces, striking dark eyes, perfect skin, and all that, if the lighting-- it has to be the weird lighting-- didn't kind of make her face swim in your focus. Vibrating just slightly around the edges, like the thrumming of raindrops. Everything here looks softly blurred and washed out anyways, like it was lazily AI generated. It's astonishing how someone could design a physical space so poorly that even the staff end up looking like lazily produced props.

    What stands out is the piece of machinery on the side of her head, surprisingly bulky to be mounted over ear, projecting on some kind of intrusive google glass panel that was so poorly glare-proofed that it ends up flashing when she looks at the first person to arrive. On closer inspection, you're pretty sure you can see something at her collarbone. Past her suit dress cuffs, just barely.

    Presumptively, if anyone wants to find out where in this slightly surreal and upsettingly cut-corner building the signal came from, at least one person will enter through the door, in lieu of any windows to crash dramatically into. Where you'd expect a 'welcome to so and so, how may I help you', though, what you get instead is--

    [The Concierge] "Hello hun. You look a little lost. That's okay, plenty of lost little things end up here. Where can I send you up?"

    It's almost a shame her voice comes with subtitles, but not quite. She has that smooth and seductive vocal quality that is totally put to waste on the saccharine-helpful tone she has to use for you. The AR(?) lettering appearing beside her for your convenience is distracting enough to barely notice how it sounds slightly thick and put on.
Friz Dirt: Logo. Logo. Rain. Logo. Logo. QR Code. Logo. Rain. Logo. Empty space. Filled space. Logo. QR code. Rain. Rain. Logo. Rain. QR code. Logo. Lobby. Rain. Logo...
Savvy: Dirt? Hey, are you doing okay?
Dirt: Rain.
Grit: Dirt's been like this since we got into town.
Moxie: This state of being is the deliberate, intentional work of specific people with names and publicly known addresses and schedules.
Savvy: Well I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that information.

Savvy: Look, try to focus. Dirt, can you find a receptionist?
Dirt: Rain. Logo. Desk. Monitor. Concierge. Rain.
Savvy: Any description for them?
Dirt: Rain.
Savvy: Okay, buddy. I'm sure you did your best.
Savvy: I guess Dirt's out of commission here. Moxie walk us to the desk.
Moxie: The environments are startlingly navigable.
Dirt: No sound of footsteps. Rain. Her visor is opaque. No it's not.
Grit: This woman is harmless. This woman is harmless.
Savvy: Alright. Moxie, flash the badge.
Moxie: Flashing.
Savvy: Let's start with...

    "Detective Friz, DVSD. I'm here about, um, a reported murder (multiple reported murders)? Multiple deaths, anyway. I was told to go see..."

Savvy: Dirt, what was the name? Some internet name?
Dirt: Rain.
Savvy: Okay, not that. Moxie, get the record on the PDA.
Moxie: Sure thing. Holding it up now... gotta get this *close* here, I'm kind of overloaded honestly.
Savvy: Okay, the name is...

    "...'xxWeezerFan69'? Can I go see them, Ms...?"

Grit: Looking over to the elevator.
Grit: This place is dangerous.
Grit: No it's not. It's harmless.
Savvy: I'm kind of struggling with these mixed signals, here, guys.
Dirt: Rain.
Savvy: I know, buddy. I know.
Angela It is pretty atypical for Lobotomy Corp to even care about a Distress Call. Its aim might be idealistic but in practice the pursuit of those ideals made it functionally identical to any other Wing of the City. And the people involved know it. And so, something as prosocial as reaching a hand out to someone in need--just isn't in character for the company.

Strangely enough, the order came from Angela who had overheard it. Over radio is one of the few ways Angela can interact with the outside world and that's because the outside world is outside of the City and because it is outside of the City, the Head doesn't really care about it. At least, that's Angela's supposition on the matter. Right now she's more worried about B who might tear down her desire. She's killed him many many times before but this time he has sought refuge out into another universe. The first thing she has to do it track him down. It is less trivial than usual this time.

Is that why she is sending assistance? Or maybe some of that selfish selflessness reminded Angela of something she had done away with in herself and so some tribute to that deleted trait is only appropriate. Angela couldn't answer that herself either right now. That's fine. She has time before she has to decide who she is going to be. Persephone can know. B can think he knows. But the Upper Sephirah cannot because it'd be a nuisane.

She has sent Rook, and Parker today. Parker is holding the comms panel for Angela this time because Rook doesn't want any more attention on him from Angela than is neccessary.

Rook is carrying Penitence, a club with a skull on it with the skull wrapped in thorns. It's a very big club and packed full of mercy. He wears a similarly colored suit that provides some protection. Parker has a pistol with various leathery patches of skin strapped to it that have various faces and a mask that has a big teethy smile on it that covers her own face. It smells like it looks. Parker acts like someone who would carry items like that.

Rook is carrying an umbrella in his other hand because if he comes into this scenario looking drenched it would insult his pride as a Fixer so he says to Parker. "Feels more like home." He mutters before reminding himself that Angela is definitely listening and maybe there are things he doesn't want someone like her knowing about.

"There's a lobby!" Parker chirps. "I wonder what cute faces we'll see here."

"Feels more like a lobby made by someone who hasn't seen a lobby before," Rook mutters. "One desk, not even a chair or directory."

"Aww, someone's spoiled!"

Rook does in fact just go through the door (crashing through the window is for amateurs) and he says, "Well hello, dear lady." Rook says to the Concierge, looking down at the subtitles. "Neat. We got a distress signal from here. You wouldn't happen to be able to point us in the right direction?"
Phantom Thieves "You get a bead on that signal yet, Stage?"
"It's... wild. If these network signatures are legitimate, then... I don't know if this signal should have been *able* to get out."
"Yeah, whatever, but where's it coming from?"
"Working on it. Got it narrowed down enough to get the van started, at least."

---

"Hey, Lime, do these vehicles look... inconsistent to you?"
"Probably just how it is in this world."
"And the people, too. This is... nevermind."

---

A beat up cargo van pulls up to the side of the building. "Sure you want to go in the front door suited up?"
"I'll just tell them the outfit's a cultural thing, they aren't expecting us or know what we're about yet. Besides, it's a corporate building. What's the worst that can happen, they try to upsell me on a second mortgage? Go park, I'll be fine."

A Lime Green Supervillain hops out of the van, and the van speeds off. Limelight makes her way in through the front door, and then... does a double take. This is... not what she expected from a corporate lobby like this. It's more than a little offputting. She ends up going to talk to the concierge just simply so she has something to focus on first.

> "Hello hun. You look a little lost. That's okay, plenty of lost little things end up here. Where can I send you up?"

"Oh hey. Had a question about financial stuff. Is it true that there's people here that are literally billions of dollars in debt?" says Limelight, as she leans against the counter.
Karlan Nobles Despite the unfamiliar streets of... What was this city called? It's probably not important. Depsite these unfamiliar streets, the rush of people on the way to their destination is a familiar one to the trio of animal-feature'd people for wildly different reasons.

For Pramanix, mingling with people she can't always remember the names of is just part of going through her usual rites at home.
For Courier, blending in and not getting a second glance from people that don't even care he exists is an everyday thing.
For Matterhorn, towering over and keeping an eye on everyone that might be a threat in disguise isn't new at all.

All three of them breathe heavy sighs of relief upon entering the lobby. Bland as it is, not being surrounded by people is a welcome feeling, and they take a few moments to just let the otherwise depressing lack of decor sink in before approaching the person at the desk and greeting her with various nods and light bows in greeting.

"Pramanix. A pleasure to meet you, friend. We're also investigating this Weezer matter."
"Courier. Have you noticed anyone coming in, but never leaving here recently?"
"Or suspicious figures besides-" Matterhorn pauses, looking over at Friz, then at Rook, and definitely at Limelight. "-all of us here?"
Phantom Thieves "Excuse you, it's cultural," says the masked caped leotarded lime green supervillain, with no attempt to sound convincing.
Angela "I'm not suspicious at all, I'm a pretty typical guy." Rook says like he believes it.

"I'm a pretty typical girl." Parker adds, adjusting her flesh mask.
Ophrys     Rain. Ophrys has always been fond of rain. It's a frequent weather in Neon City, scattering the bright hues of holosigns and marquees through countless liquid prisms. It adds a glow to the onslaught of advertising and attention-grabbing that just isn't there on clearer nights.

    Tracing the signal has been -- not a trivial task, but not terribly difficult given her data suite. Through the soaked gloom, a distortion disturbs raindrops with the almost imperceptable thwup-thwup-thwup-thwup like a big-block motrcycle rumbling down some distant freeway far from here.

    It's a sound that ceases when that distortion ducks into an alleyway. The sound of an umbrella opening. An ordinary woman in a long jacket emerges a moment later, rounds the corner, and enters the building's foyer. Despite the weather, as she lowers the umbrella to shake off droplets and then dismiss it into Refined Storage, her silver hair is perfectly dry with two long antenna-like bits that arc up and behind her head, behind the fanned ponytail.

    Every bit the perfectly tailored pantsuit of an executive, the calm heel-clicking walk of confidence with a distinct metallic sound. The thoroughness of her modification is concealed beneath the holographic disguise of GhostWare's camouflage system.

    She doesn't engage with the Concierge, as plenty of others already are. Instead, Ophrys plays the part of Just Accompanying Everyone Else, lifting a hand to adjust the round glasses that rest upon her nose.

    What she's actually doing is accessing this rat's nest of a network, her eyes shifting towards the Concierge's own computer, then up to the walls near the ceiling for expected security cameras. A security data server would be most useful for what she wants to know...
Friz Dirt: Glance. Eyes. Staring. Rain. Logo.
Savvy: Wait, glancing at *me*? Why would I be 'suspicious?'
Grit: Moxie, appeasing look. Make it low-threat.
Moxie: Gotcha, will do. Big smile, wide eyes.
Savvy: That's probably fine.
Dirt: Pain. Dry eyes. Rain.

    Orbiocularis oculi strain. Zygomaticus major strain. Conjunctivitis reflexes fight with social reflexes. Friz smiles as disarmingly as she can, under the circumstances.

Savvy: Okay, maybe not. Dirt, can you find a logo with coffee?
Dirt: Rain. Rain. Rain. Logo. Rain.
Savvy: Shit.
Metamorph One     The woman smiles at Friz with the sort of patience reserved for particularly adorably stupid puppies. It's simultaneously the type of smile that reaches her eyes and the type that seems completely fake.

    [The Concierge] "I'm The Concierge sweetie. See where it says so? You can hear me, right (¤°~°)"

    You . . . actually no idea how she did an emote with her voice. With a little flower. It's hard to decide whether it's cringe, when she looks and sounds like two seconds away from petting Friz on the head and owning it.

    [The Concierge] "A detective? That's cute. You must be in training. I'm sorry hun, but I need to see your permit to speak to an internal security representative before applying for an investigation (¤u_u)"

    The way her eyes slide to Rook is, for a moment, offputtingly calculating, and even more, seemingly not for any reason of anything he'd said. She lifts a fingertip to her cheek, tilting her head in cutesy thinking posture; a loading spinny plays in her visor glass. After a second, she smiles again. He gets the rankling feeling it's because she thinks he must be harmless.

    [The Concierge] "Sorry hun, but I'm pretty experienced with office pranks (¤^_^)"
    [The Concierge] "Your handler is on the line right now, isn't she? I don't think I can let a bad boy like you run around the office unsupervised. Not unless you want to become an employee~ I can arrange it so you even work under me <3"

    She holds her fingertips up to her lips to laugh, in that way that narrows her eyes to a close keeping it down to just a giggle.

    [The Concierge] "I see. You must be from somewhere else."

    She lowers her hand, watching Limelight with eyes that are, for an instant, strangely, feverishly cold.

    [The Concierge] "There's someone billions in debt everywhere you go. Companies like this are where you can work that debt off. Is that what you're looking for? A paycheque? I don't mind. You can be honest with me, hun. You can tell me anything."

    With the Karlan trio, she seems to have reached the point of even sort of enjoying herself, with this weird assorted company; this job can't be very exciting. She keeps up that thoughtful posture for Courier, saying-

    [The Concierge] "Most of our agents leave by helicopter sweetie. The front door is for people like you, who get to meet me (¤^_^)"

    But it's when Friz deploys the name properly that she lets her hand fall away. Her fingertip tapping briskly against the desk makes for sharp, repetitive clacking. The overdone sweetness drains from her voice. The smile hangs on as a formality.

    [The Concierge] "Oh. I see someone is being a very bad girl (¤ó_ó)"
    [The Concierge] "Let's go see her together then, okay hun? That's why you came, isn't it? You must know what to do with bad girls."
    [The Concierge] "If you don't, I can teach you all about it."

    She steps out from behind the desk, at last. Her heel click game is utterly immaculate. It could stop someone's heart in a barren and echoey room like this. But she rests her hand on Friz's head as she comes past, leaning in to give her an up close smile. For a moment, her features come properly into focus. She's actually pretty. What a waste.

    [The Concierge] "But you're a good girl, aren't you sweetie? Thank you for being honest~"
Metamorph One     She bids you to follow, not with the pleasant bow and extended arm of hotel staff, but with a single finger gesture that is entirely too commanding for her lowly post; a bad habit from elsewhere in life, perhaps. The elevator is the natural destination, where the dash panel blinks rapidly in advance of her, and the doors slide open on a slightly hitched delay. She waits for you to board, and then simply looks at the interior panel to have them close again. The lift ascends, and disappears into a tunnel of soothing blackness. A moment where the world is simply 'dark'.

    Ophrys' poking at the building's system architecture gets her what could be politely described as 'network gore'. Every random surface and cheap and shitty wall is bafflingly network shielded, like they'd lined everything with lead to specifically prevent anyone from using their phones or having wi-fi. Brief flashes of connectivity between floors, in stripes of glowing blue-grey, show her that the network is segregated floor by floor, with cameras individually hardlinked to hubs on each level, and those hubs are hardlinked to a physical firewall server, and that firewall server is hardlinked to a shutter control, and the shutter control is hardlinked to all the doors and windows, and for some reason the interior windows have their own OS that is separate from the door OS and some of the doors are hardlinked to specific consoles on the other side of them which aren't linked to shutter control and--

    Whatever the nightmare dystopian future is where everything is on the cloud, this is the opposite, secret special nightmare dystopian future, where there are physical network nodes installed to allow the computer workstations to link to a workstation hub around a fucking corner so that they can save text documents. To find security footage, she'll have to actually get off on one floor and scan the hub for those specific cameras.

    The elevator finally stops some ungodly number of floors up, and lets you off. The floor here is carpet, soft and generic, in the same colours as downstairs. It leads through halls of identical doors printed with QR codes rather than numbers, which The Concierge walks through for quite some time. A much larger elevator appears at a branching fork, heavily barred off. She barely goes left from it, arrives at a specific door, and then something clicks in her wrist. You hear the jingling of keys, and she slots and turns the lock to let herself into what you're pretty sure is someone's apartment.
Kayoko Kirenai     Even though Kayoko appears in the city abruptly, only a few blocks away from the office, with staticky monochrome distortion shimmering in the air to herald her arrival, she takes considerable time before entering the lobby along with everyone else. Instead, her determined demeanor is sidetracked by the dull haze of the city, hasty footsteps splashing along the sidewalk slowing, veering off into a side street, slightly dimmer.

    Leaning up against a wall in the alley, Kayoko swipes a finger through her bangs to push them aside, watching the color vomit of indistinguishable advertisements ripple and reflect in the water around her feet, seeming entranced. She lifts her polaroid camera to her face, and takes a picture of the blurry advertisement-scape, tugging on the photo as it ejects to smear the picture further. She slides the photo into a slot in her belt bag, and as if waking up, she shakes her head and rubs her eyes, then continues her walk out of the alley.

    After a few more distractions, watching distant scuttling figures for as long as she could before they disappeared, or becoming enthralled with seemingly arbitrary specific advertisements on the walls, Kayoko finally enters the lobby. Her school uniform, colorless except for her few blue and gold accessories, washes out easily to fit in with the soulless aesthetic. She appears dry, despite the weather, and her shoes are nearly silent against the ground as she walks up to the desk.

    Her expression tightens with nervousness the longer she's inside, but seeing Justin Rook as the one familiar face softens her slightly-- not much, though, because he still has that club. "Hello, miss. We're all here to investigate a distress call, about someone being held prisoner because of her debt? Would you know who we should talk to, to resolve that?"

    Then, as much to everyone else here as to the Concierge, she adds, "Oh, and, my name is--" Her finger runs down the neck strap of her camera, "Kayoko."
Angela Even for Lobotomy Corp, speaking emoticons is a rarity.

Rook gets a familiar vibe from the Concierge as she looks him over. He doesn't care for it, but his boss is on the line so he can't exactly go and start swinging at the Concierge right now. It wouldn't be professional either.

"Hey now, I never said I was a ''bad boy''." But that isn't exactly a denial is it? Rook glances to Parker who doesn't claim to be a good girl at all. She won't, either, because Parker will only ever say she's a good girl in that way that makes everyone certain they aren't one.

"She wants to talk to you, boss."

He nods to Parker who lifts the viewscreen up so the Concierge can see Angela on the screen. Angela doesn't open her eyes. It isn't impossibly rare but it is an occurance that happens only once or twice a day these days.

"Hello. My name is Angela. I am their handler for today, taking over for Malkuth who is on downtime. We are not presently in debt, but if you are offering work I have the authority to contract the Agents out."

"We're looking for 420xxWeezerFan69" Parker chirps.

"No, no, there's no 420. It's just xxWeezerFan69." Rook murmurs to Parker. The two of them follow the Concierge and board. The dystopia is nostalgic.

"If you're leading us to the death room I--" Rook begins as she works with the keys. He trails off as he starts to realize that maybe it is just an apartment. He spots Kayoko, though, and cracks a smile at her earnest offer to help. Justin continues to have no idea that the weapon is unpleasant to Kayoko.

"First time out of your home world?" He asks.
Phantom Thieves > "Is that what you're looking for? A paycheque? I don't mind. You can be honest with me, hun. You can tell me anything."

"A paycheck would be grand," says Limelight brightly. She does not say that she's here targeting one thing in specific and to rob the place blind in general, nor that she's got her partner in crime listening in via an earpiece.

As she follows, she pauses, her half-masked gaze glancing over towards Kayoko. Kayoko's outfit, of all things, gives her reason to not only hesitate, but come to a full stop for a few seconds before continuing on.

("Lime, what's up?")
("Just saw someone in a school uniform come through the door. Catholic school, maybe. Accessories with a matching color scheme. Looking like she's nervous to be out here.")
("So - our competition, and school or religion themed, you're thinking?")
("Got it in one. I can't imagine why someone would go out in that uniform otherwise unless it's a costume and she's like, The Dark Acolyte or The Bishopess or something. I'll make contact, maybe see if I can set some rules of engagement here.")

Limelight sidles up next to Kayoko as they're walking. "So hey," she whispers to Kayoko. "What's your handle? Mine's Limelight, I'm here with Stagehand."
Ophrys     It'd take someone especially observant to see the text scrawling across Ophrys' eyes, lightning-fast flashes of blue against gold irises and black pupils. It doesn't cease as she boards the elevator, though once it becomes clear how RF-shielded each level is and the data starts flashing intermittently across her eyes, the woman frowns just slightly.

    She doesn't voice what prompted that response, though.

    Instead, she speaks up towards the Concierge some time after the elevator has stopped, "Is it against policy for your agents to contact resources outside of the company, then?"

    The conversation is a cover, of course. Now that she's no longer bouncing through individualized floor networks, Ophrys focuses on the server trail for this floor in particular. Her eyes shift towards a security camera they pass, driving a digital spike into its operating system-- tracing that back towards the security hub in search of logged recordings and leads on personnel data. Even if it's just a manifest for this particular floor.

    Kayoko introduces herself as she joins up with the group and the woman tilts her head towards the girl with a dazzling smile and closed eyes, "Oh, hello! My preferred callsign is Ophrys, it's lovely to meet you."
Friz Dirt: Rain. FOOTSTEP. Rain.
Moxie: Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
Dirt: Her.
Moxie: I'm following.
Savvy: Wait, didn't we just make a mistake?
Moxie: I'm following. I don't know how to tell you that there's something so important about this. It's not about the following, it's about a specific destination I can't tell you about until the end.
Moxie: Also, Grit, give me a lot of interior activity.
Grit: ???
Grit: Okay.
Savvy: No, hold on! I'm in charge! Cancel that!
Grit: Too late.
Savvy: Ugh, I hate this dry-throat shit.

Savvy: She's got something to do with this! We need to interrogate her!
Dirt: Rain. Logo. Ding. Elevator. A curling finger.
Moxie: We're following. I'm getting in the elevator.
Savvy: But why!
Moxie: Because I am.
Moxie: Did you hear her?
Moxie: This is about taking action, not showing off how smart I am.
Dirt: Dark. Rising. Up. Opening. Rain. QR code. QR code. QR code. Jingle. Key.

Savvy: Look, trying to keep some semblance of control over this isn't showing off. We need to stop and treat her with some amount of skepticism.
Moxie: This isn't about skepticism or faith, redditbrain. Go count some berries and memorize some seasons, this is adults treating each other like adults.
Savvy: What the hell?!
Moxie: We're next to the objective because of my decisions. Stop complaining.
Moxie: I'll handle speaking. Keeping it focused, determined.

    "I'm here about figuring out truths and then making choices about that. Punishment, or the threat of it, isn't a good way to change people or how they act. I just know that something's confusing and painful right now. I'm the galaxy's greatest detective, so it's my job to make things less of both."
Persephone Kore      The apartment is in the early stages of apathy-induced decay.

     It's a good size. A living-room-slash-armory (entertainment system never used) flows seamlessly into a kitchenette, together forming a single L-shaped room. The bedroom is nestled into the L's crook.

     It would have been a cozy place once, in a bland corporate Ikea kind of way. Now trash from frozen meals is scattered across the floor alongside bizarre cheap-looking plasticky guns, equally-cheap-looking swords, and ammunition in absolutely unhinged calibers and styles. The furniture has been tossed around by a tantrum, or a frantic search, or an anxiety attack.

     On the kitchen table a bunch of smart appliances have been hotwired together in an obscenely kludgey way. That's probably where the call came from.

     'Who' the call came from isn't far, either. Lying facedown on the crooked couch is a markedly unwell woman, and not just for the weird crimson of the veins beneath her pasty skin or for the cyber-frame that erupts from her body like a half-there exoskeleton.

     The unwellness is just as much in the greasiness of her mop of long dark hair, the hollowness of the eyes she turns on the opening door in a guilty start, the dried blood she hasn't bothered to clean from under her fingernails, the stained hoodie she wears over the fresh metal like she's trying to forget about it. 'Pathetic' is a word. Like a wet dog in an SPCA ad.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "Oh god. What are you doing in my house?!"
     [xxWeezerFan69] "You're... hey, wait, who are you? Did you get the- nothing! I mean, I don't know these people!"

     That voice is tight, shrill, like a violin; it might be pretty if it weren't so full of tension. But her mounting terror- there's a gun on her back, but she hadn't even thought to reach for it- plateaus and turns to sheer consternation when she sees you behind the Concierge. Then her eyes turn pleading.
Karlan Nobles "By helicopter... That doesn't narrow things down much, but the information is appreciated." Courier replies with a similarly formal smile, holding back some of his own suspicions for now. There's still plenty more to ask, but the Concierge seems to zero in on Friz's question specifically that it doesn't seem like a good idea to press about other things just yet.

Catching onto that, Pramanix and Matterhorn both keep their own questions on the backburner while following along towards the elevator. The urge to mess with phones is, thankfully, a non-factor as they're all actually focused on the task at hand (and also because none of them are sick computer hackers). Instead, they simply wait patiently on the elevator, with Courier keeping his eyes on the doors while Pramanix and Matterhorn keep bracing prematurely before the the elevator actually stops.

Also, introducing themselves to everyone. There's plenty of unfamiliar faces, after all!  Parker's freaky face mask has Pramanix staring in equal parts curiosity and horror, and Kayoko's general look has Matterhorn giving her vaguely reassuring, but still somewhat serious nod in greeting.

The QR-coded doors are tantalizing, but there's no time to go snooping around while the Concierge is with them. Matterhorn stays juuust a bit in front and to the side of Pramanix that it'd be awkward for her to get to those doors just in case.

"A death room? There wouldn't be a need for an elevator if that was the case."
"Wh... Why?"
"A trap door leading to a fatal fall would be much faster."

Stepping into the apartment, the three don't have much time to look around before realizing that there's already someone inside. Judging from the look on the occupant's face, it doesn't take them long to realize that there may be more to this than just a Captive situation.

"Please relax, Miss... Weezer? We're not here to hurt you. We're just looking into... Ehm. That private matter."
"We'll need your cooperation for this. Ma'am, could you give us a few minutes?" He turns to the Concierge with that last question. He's pretty sure they won't get that, but someone has to make the obvious request.

While Pramanix and Matterhorn sound like they're on the same page, Courier just keeps looking off to the side, still keeping that customer service smile on despite sweating already. Did their contact's cover already get blown?
Metamorph One      [The Concierge] "Nice to meet you, Angela."
    [The Concierge] "There's always lots of work to be done around here. But to be honest, I have some concerns about the state of your dogs."
    [The Concierge] "Are you feeding them properly? Training them? Showing them love? They look like they're not drinking enough water."

    The elevator ride.

    [The Concierge] "Of course sweetie. Our agents handle a lot of sensitive requests, so company policy is strict about what trusted addresses can be added to the internal registry."
    [The Concierge] "Your data is safe with us! (¤^_^)"

    The front door.

    [The Concierge] "Do you know how to change people, hun? Not a person. People."
    [The Concierge] "The reason for things being painful and confusing. It'd be really sweet of you to figure that out. If you can."

    Inside. Keys jingle. You're pretture sure you didn't actually see a keyring. Actually, you're not sure the door had a keyhole.

    [The Concierge] "Hello again cutie. You had some people here to see you. So I decided I'd let myself in <3"

    The Concierge looks around the room with a look of professional dismay; as if she's seen it more than a few times and would rather not.

    [The Concierge] "You know hun, even if this is your employee apartment, you're not treating company property very well (¤~-~)"
    [The Concierge] "Or yourself. Look at you! Didn't you get my memo? You clearly haven't been drinking enough water."
    Her reaction is utterly and completely tone-deaf to the woman's shrill reaction of horror. The woman who works at the front desk does indeed let herself in, opens xxWeezerFan69's cupboards, and begins filling a glass from the fridge dispenser.

    [The Concierge] "Good agents drink water until their bellies are full, remember. (¤ó_ó)"

    She sets the glass down on the table. There's a glimpse of black carbon metal just past the cuff of her sleeve, where she extends her arm.

    [The Concierge] "You haven't even showered? Is it broken, sweetie? You need to send a maintenance request. I can't have my favourite new agent wallowing in filth like this because of a little email or two (¤u_u)"

    The fact that she is the only one using emojis in her subtitles somehow feels excruciatingly insincere.

    [The Concierge] "I came with these nice people because it's a special occasion. Most of our agents don't get visitors. You're a popular one, hun. It makes me a little jealous (¤u_u)"
    [The Concierge] "Now. Let's have a talk about the way you've voided the warranty on all of those company appliances. You don't really expect the tenant after you to pay for them, right?"

    The Concierge smiles as if wringing a particularly sinful droplet of joy out of this tedious charade. A PC in the other room chirps with a new notification.

    [The Concierge] "You're causing so much trouble for the board, too. What terrible PR!"
    [The Concierge] "If you wanted me to monitor you more closely, you could have just asked. I understand some puppies act out when they feel understimulated. (¤u_u)"
    [The Concierge] "Isn't that right, sweetie? That's why you did it."
Metamorph One     The security camera logs on the floor aren't much. It's a truly desolate little apartment block. People do, indeed, only exit their rooms to march to the elevator at the back, go up to the roof, and come back hours or days later, soaked in rain, sometimes blood.

    xxWeezerFan69 doesnt' seem to be an exception save in her state of personal dilapidation; most of the figures coming and going are heavily armed, wired into some amount of exosuit frame on their way to the elevator and back. Even the single human maintenance tech comes by with a light-up spine and metal wrists, to fix god knows what. It strikes as a little odd that there isn't so much as a pizza ordered up here. Where is anyone even getting guns?
Kayoko Kirenai     "First time out of your home world?"

    Kayoko nods emphatically, the long section of hair draped over her shoulder waving. "It is, actually. How did you--? Oh, I guess at the meeting before, you could assume that I hadn't left yet. Didn't you say you were a recent arrival too, Mr. Rook? That your organization was?"

    Kayoko follows the Concierge unquestioningly, not even registering that the finger curl might be rude. Walking alongside everyone, it's immediately obvious that even though she appears dry, she leaves wet footsteps behind her. She's staring at Limelight's outfit before the thief moves to talk to her, and straightens up in surprised politeness when she does.

    "Limelight? Oh, I like that, with the double meaning for your outfit color, too. I'm Chevalier Cobalt, if you mean that." Kayoko taps on the side of her glasses, evidently indicating the similarly thematic blue. "Stagehand is... supporting? Like the name would imply? I like that a lot." She seems genuinely enamored with the Thieves' naming scheme, nodding as the aesthetic comes together in her mind. "My theme is knights, like," She swooshes her hand through the air as if wielding a sword, in place of ending her sentence with real words.

    Ophrys gets a smile and a slight incline of her head when she introduces herself. "Miss Ophrys! We talked in the radio once before, I think. You work in dispute resolution?"

    Harboring none of the suspicions towards the Concierge that the others are, Kayoko waits patiently behind her as she unlocks the door. "Miss Concierge? Even if what Miss Gross did was wrong, I think we can work out some way for all of us to be happier after talking together, so please don't be too harsh on her before then?"

    Oh. She's a wreck. Kayoko closes her eyes and brushes her hands down her skirt, smoothing it out. When she opens them again, her expression is neutral and as soothing to the regrettably-dubbed Weezer as someone who's likely a decade younger than her can be.

    "Hello, Miss Gross? We're here to help, don't worry. Whatever the problem is here, we'll work it out together. I heard from the call that you're... working off debt?" Her gaze settles on trash laying on the ground. "And you're... depressed about that? And the killing?"

    Responding to The Concierge, Kayoko has a slightly urgent insistence in her tone. "We'll make sure that none of this reflects badly on your company, Miss Concierge. She doesn't need to be punished for causing bad PR, since her distress call won't cause any problems with me here."
Friz Dirt: Wrapper. Wrapper. Wrapper. Wrapper. Sword. Wrapper. Ammo. Wrapper. Chair. Television. Wrapper. Sword. Couch. Table. Wrapper. Bedroom door.
Savvy: Jesus, what a mess.
Grit: Panic. Stress. Anxiety.
Moxie: Don't you start doing that too.
Grit: I'm fine. But she isn't. We were called in without a plan.
Moxie: Not without a duty, though. I'm stepping inside the apartment.
Moxie: With the woman, obviously.

Savvy: Alright, reflexes, if you're so in-charge then what are we supposed to do in this complex, fucked-up social situation, then, huh? Huh?
Moxie: You literally heard it. Straight from her and from me.
Moxie: 'You know what to do with bad girls.'
Moxie: *And* you've heard it from the Security Chief, in a way.
Moxie: I'm approaching her.

    "Hey. Dana Gross? Detective Friz, DVSD (that's Debtor Volunteer Security Department). I'm here to help. Think you should get back on the couch, okay? This," Movement of the arm. Relaxed hand. Indicate up and down the body of the person. "Isn't doing you (or anyone else) any good. If you need to be face-down on a couch right now, that's where you need to be. Been there myself."

Dirt: Chirp. Notice.
Moxie: I need one of those.
Savvy: Those what?
Moxie: The faces.
Savvy: Emojis? How? Why?
Dirt: A flower.
Moxie: I'll figure it out eventually.

    "Okay, hey. Dana, are you in a debt program, like me? Working off..." Silence. "Can you both explain things? This doesn't have to be a problem for anyone, I know the Company wouldn't want me causing issues like that." Tension. Subtle.
Phantom Thieves "Swords and knights - Oh! Great, great... we haven't seen a lot of that popping up, so like..."

Stagehand glances off to the side, to make sure nobody's listening. "So, Chevalier Cobalt, can we compare notes?" she whispers. "We're here to try to steal this billion dollar debt that keeps getting brought up, or if we can't get that then something else big. What are you here to nab?"

---

Meanwhile, inside a van inside a nearby parking garage:

"Say it ain't so, your drug is a a heart-breaker-er... say it ain't so, my love is a life ta-ker..."

Stagehand isn't winning any karaoke contests anytime soon. It's probably for the best that his mic is muted.

---

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, here to help, absolutely," adds Limelight out loud, since people are reassuring the target. "Here to help with the thing. As heroic types. Obviously."
Ophrys     Ophrys hums thoughtfully at the Concierge's answer to her question, filing it away for later. Lettering continues to scrawl across her eyes as she reviews, in one corner of her vision, enough days of security footage to get a clear idea of how things work here. it isn't particularly useful beyond that, save the question of how heavily equipped most of the agents are.

    She presumes that has something to do with the Killing that Dana mentioned in her distress call, and all the cheap and weird guns and bullets scattered around this terrible apartment. Her nose wrinkles slightly at the abundance of trash, quickly resolving back to a mostly neutral expression.

    "Oh yes that's right," Ophrys' smile returns when Kayoko recalls how she introduced herself, "I also do a good deal of freelance work, such as now." One eye closes, "'Off the books'."

    Everyone becomes occupied with Dana and her issues and the Concierge's fussy passive-aggression. She takes the opportunity to tour the apartment, such as it is a little box filled with depressive anxiety. Her hands remain folded behind her back for most of it, only unfurling when she nears the workstation to run a finger over the exterior case. She makes a show of checking her fingertip for dirt.

    While inserting a digital spike into the workstation itself. Lettering starts scrawling over her eyes again. Workstations, network hub, data storage-- personnel, corporate information. She casts a wider net this time, pulling in anything to help shed some light on what this company is, what they do, and how they operate.

    She doesn't expect anything particularly sensitive on such an enclosed system, but it pays to keep an eye out when diving into code like this.
Persephone Kore      xxWeezerFan69 struggles into sitting upright, fueled by a mixture of fear and indignation. Her sharp exoskeleton gashes one of the couch cushions when she does. Rather than reassuring her, the Concierge's insincere fretting makes her even more panicked, which might be the point.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "My name isn't Weezer! It's Dana!! Da-na!!! That was my email when I was thirteen years old! I don't even know how they got it!"
     [xxWeezerFan69] "No! Please. I don't need any more stimulation! I need less! I need to not be getting shot at every single day! I don't know how to deal with any of this..."
     [xxWeezerFan69] "AND THERE WAS A DEMON IN MY SHOWER"

     Her hands are balled up in her lap as she stares down the glass of water. Something in it- her own reflection?- makes her even more teary-queasy than she already was. Being called by her codename seems to put a deep wrenching unease in her, as if her identity were already precarious enough. When her PC chirps- no doubt with the invoice for the appliances- she emits a strained, grief-stricken little squeak.

     With something like despairing resignation, she finally chugs the water and follows Friz's advice to get back face-down on the couch.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "Hey, Detective Friz. Schoolgirl. Thank you. I'll try to calm down. Um."
     [xxWeezerFan69] "I'm depressed because I have a life. I have a family, even if... you know. I'm a Paladins attaché on vacation. Or I was on vacation, and then something happened, and now I'm...
     [xxWeezerFan69] "In a box. Like a billion dollars in debt. And every day I have to go out and kill people and get shot at, and sometimes I die, and I just can't take it anymore. I think it's been a month."
     [xxWeezerFan69] "I guess it's a debt program. But it keeps going up because I'm no good at this agent stuff. I just don't know what to do..."

     Her sense of time probably isn't reliable, given that there are no visible clocks and not even a source of natural sunlight, but a mess like this doesn't happen in one day either.
Karlan Nobles As the Concierge makes herself at home, the Karlan trio too try to find more comfortable spots for themselves (or as comfortable as they can be, considering how awkward this whole situation is). The talk of warranties and especially of monitoring has Pramanix's face tensing up considerably, only relaxing when Matterhorn notices it and gives her a light nudge to get her to relax a bit more.

Hearing Dana's full code name from Rook helps a bit, at least, although Pramanix does sober up a bit once Dana protests the use of said code name.

"I'm sorry, Dana. You're... Er. A billion? How is that even possible?" Pramanix starts to apologize and moves over to the couch, but does a double take on the number. She looks between Dana and the Concierge several times, looking aghast before finally settling on the latter.

"How... What happened to rack up that much debt? That shouldn't be possible without getting ripped off." She doesn't direct that question towards either of them in particular, but there's definitely a more troubled look being directed towards the Concierge as she asks that.

"Does it have something to do with those deaths?" Matterhorn asks the Concierge more directly, arms crossed while his expression remains generally serious and extremely neutral. "If Dana's still here, then this company must have some kind of advanced healing technology on hand."

Courier, meanwhile, just keeps that anxious smile on his face as he approaches the bathroom. One hand stays on his sword's hilt as he slowly nudges his way in, already preparing himself for the worst.
Angela "You mean Miss WeezerFan69." Rook tells Karlan. "We shouldn't be informal on a first meeting."

He closes up his umbrella--looking for a place to hang it up so he doesn't drag any extra WET into the apartment. She even wnet so far as to remove his shoes (Parker doesn't), and leaving them outside so he doesn't trail in any muck.

"We got a call from you saying you could use help."

"Maybe," Parker suggests. "She isn't the real Miss Wheezer."

Rook clears his throat.

"The real Miss WheezerFan69." Parker is still just as chipper but you can practically hear the eyes rolling behind the mask.

He then nods back to Kayoko. He does remember he had to reassure her about the skull before so he kind of tries to lean it against the wall and stand in front of it. He isn't expecting to need to cave in someone's face with it just this moment but he has little understanding of to the why of it. "That's right, ma'am." Rook says. "You're not the first world I visited but you're still in the first five. You'll get used to it in no time."

"Hello Kayoko! I'm Parker! I like your face!!" Parker adds. Rook runs his hand down his face in minor distress which is probably a sign that it is not normal even for his world to introduce yourself like that.

Angela focuses on the Concierge. She isn't smiling at all but the way Concierge speaks of her Agents is almost nostalgic. She feels a small sense of comradery with this unusual woman with a similar ansi code. It is a strange feeling and likely premature but she decides to enjoy the moment.

"We have a Training Team for purposes of training," Angela tells the Concierge. "Their work has been rather slipshod lately. Showing them love is against protocol but they do have access to plenty of water."

She remembers Parker for a moment and adds, "Parker chooses to look like that."

Some tension enters Rook's shoulders as the Concierge refers to the angry woman as an Agent. He wonders if this is a trap of some company that wants to get a whole lot of enemy agents into one place. It occurs to Rook that it is a very good strategy to lure a bunch of your enemies into one place by having someone call for help. He scouts the apartment room more carefully this time, looking for weapons. Bombs. More.

"She says her name is Dana." Parker says. "Maybe we can clear the shower of shower demons."
Persephone Kore      The bathroom is...

     Well, it's a pretty normal bathroom. There's a sink, a toilet, a big floor-to-ceiling mirror. Something about the lighting and the simple textures of the room combined with the lack of an obvious frame makes the mirror feel somehow unwholesome, but it isn't supernatural.

     The door to the shower is opaque. Bravely opening it reveals absolutely nothing; it's stocked with little complementary soaps and travel shampoos like a hotel, but there's certainly no monsters. It's spotless, in fact.

     Except, if one has extremely keen eyes, for a scratch on the side of the showerhead, which is seven feet off the ground. Huh.
Kayoko Kirenai     "Steal Miss Gross's debt? As in, take it off of her? That sounds like a really good idea, if you can pull it off." Kayoko twirls her finger in her ponytail, considering Limelight's question. The idea of stealing something negative from someone is interpreted as at worst benign and at best noble and clever in her mind, and she's very much still not on the same page as the thief. "I've already taken a bunch of pictures, and those are kind of... you know, my thing. But this world is kind of interesting? Maybe it's just because it's my first time away from home, but I want to see what's around here. On top of helping Miss Gross, of course."

    With Rook's subtle concealing of his mace, Kayoko's attention is finally drawn away from it, just in time for Parker to introduce herself. She stares at the flesh mask with her mouth hanging slightly open, and her whole body locks up. Not looking away or blinking, Kayoko responds to Parker's greeting calmly, despite the hollow horror in her eyes. "Hello, Miss Parker. Is that, something you tend to appreciate? Faces?" That she isn't flinching or quaking in fear is almost as alarming as it is dutifully polite.

    Kayoko nods at Dana, finger twisting in her camera's neck strap. Wrong name for the wrong situation, she gets it. "Miss Gross. I am Chevalier Cobalt, also a Paladin. Chevalier Chevalier Cobalt, technically. Um." Kayoko makes a strange face, briefly confused. "How did you end up in debt? Were you..." Kayoko tries to think of ways that people get into debt. "Gambling, while you were on vacation? We need to determine the source and legitimacy of your debt, and then we can negotiate with Miss Concierge's company to lower it, or find some way of helping you pay it."

    The mention of a demon puts Kayoko immediately on edge, and her head swivels towards the bathroom. Her hand rests on her fanny pack as if it was a holster, zipper gripped between two fingers. Kayoko's eyes are keen beyond reason, and through the door and around the corner, she scans the bathroom intently, stiffening when she sees the scratch.

    "Miss Gross? Are the demons the things you need to kill? Could you describe them for us?"
Metamorph One     The Concierge looks at Kayoko and Friz together with an expression of debilitatingly slight, secretly crushing disappointment.

    [The Concierge] "Sorry hun, but it's considered really bad form to use any previous codenames, handles, or legal names that an agent has gone by in past."
    [The Concierge] "Those kinds of naughty secret calls can cause all kinds of problems you'd never anticipate."

    She strangely ignores xxWeezerFan69's own transgression for the moment, which is somehow worse when she says-

    [The Concierge] "Good girl. (¤^_^)"
    [The Concierge] "Remember to drink plenty of water to keep this thing from happening, alright hun?"
    [The Concierge] "All this over a little shower daemon, though. Is this really your first time seeing a daemon? Or do you just not remember?"

    The sweet smile doesn't carry any poison. Her eyes don't have daggers. They don't need to.

    [The Concierge] "Of course sweetie. If you can pay back your resurrection fees and interest in full, I'll walk you out the door myself. That was in your contract after all!"
    [The Concierge] "But, you know, so was your codename choice. And your free living situation. And company policy about unsecured contacts. You're really causing me a lot of extra work over a shower daemon, hun."
    [The Concierge] "It's really unfortunate. Normally I'd be happy to try and have you assigned some sleepier missions. But now I don't know if I can trust you hun. (¤u_u)"

    Apparently tired of the questionnaires piling up on the beleaguered woman on the sofa, much to her detriment, the Concierge sighs over the racket, pulls on her cuff link, and slides a finger into her sleeve. Soft taps are followed by a piercing click.

    Every utterance of Xxxx is replaced with xxWeezerFan69 in destructive interference and floating subtitles. Subtle ringing fills your ears in the silent spaces, as if to say sorry hun. That's not how it works. The Concierge clears her throat, folds her hands together, and turns to the group.

    [The Concierge] "Allow me to clear up any confusion."
    [The Concierge] "Agent xxWeezerFan69 was recovered by our company after a terrible, fatal, and random accident. Despite her lack of coverage, our company footed the bill for her full body restoration, because our management believed she would be a useful asset in the process of compensating the company at the market rate."
    [The Concierge] "The company engages in standard contract work taking on espionage, sabotage, assassination, security, and similar situations, at competitive rates with a network of highly trained and experienced agents, available at request through advanced email order."
    [The Concierge] "Management believed that xxWeezerFan69's naturally violent tendencies would be of use in the field (¤ó_ó) But really, they must be working the poor thing too hard. I know she can do so much better. She's just a little anxious and inexperienced. (¤u_u)"
    [The Concierge] "However, the company has performed repeated resurrection procedures nonetheless. Noting that resurrection services are not free was part of the waiver she signed. (¤-_-")
    [The Concierge] "I'm pleased to inform you that you'll find nothing out of the ordinary in her contract, cuties <3"

    Where she slipped from briskly professional back into cringe-saccharine midway isn't entirely clear or noticeable until the end.

    [The Concierge] "Showing our good little agents love is part of my policy <3"
    [The Concierge] "Now. Do you want to speak to a company representative as a customer? Or shall I cal
Metamorph One     [The Concierge] "Now. Do you want to speak to a company representative as a customer? Or shall I call you a ride? I'm not opposed to you moving in, but you seem a little afraid of commitment, cuties."

    The PC on the desk in the bedroom is the most futuristic piece of junk Ophrys has ever seen. It's clearly a proprietary OS, developed by the company. It has desktop apps for a company store, training manual and dense legal documents, an internal messaging app, electronic banking, and some sort of VR program? That, and the application that opens something about 'chiplets', seem as if they'd use up so much memory it--

    Oh for fuck's sake. It's all being streamed from another server. The fucking google stadia of PCs. If the server went down it'd be a paperweight. xxWeezerFan69 conspicuously has access to no real information about the rest of her fellow agents, or the corporate structure. Maddeningly, Ophrys can't even find a company name on the PC. Just a balance of $20,000, a legion of stressful emails about debt repayment, and an outstanding balance with a one percent interest rate, daily. All that really stands out is that the few emails that aren't AUTOMATED SERVICE, DO NOT REPLY are from The Concierge herself, filled with encouraging words and cutesy emojis and helpful tips, save the last one, which is a notice that YOUR DEBT HAS INCREASED due to the property mismanagement.

    The PC isn't so much as able to sense the workstations or the game console in the next room. It's practically a toy. Trying to find the server address from there indicates it is probably regularly changing, though it . . . seems odd, that, specifically, Ophrys can't chase any of the applications save the store. It's not set up to thwart savvy cyber-intruders through deliberate firewall; it's that poorly designed and different from everything else for a host of seemingly random reasons. It feels like it was set up this way for some reason having to do with the people who move in here, and not an innocent one. The email should be the thing that has an eventual route to the outside, but--

    You need 69 Data to connect to this link. Your data is 4. Gather additional data on local digital architecture paradigms by scanning new computers for the first time. People and bullets don't count!
Karlan Nobles "Everything looks normal here." Courier says aloud as he does his rounds in the bathroom, looking considerably more relaxed now that he's confirmed thati t's not, in fact, inhabited by demons. The lack of fancy soaps and shampoos does disappoint him a little bit, but it's nothing out of the ordinary aside from that bit of wear and tear on the showerhead.

... Which is a bit high for there to be such a thing, on second thought. Even if his eyesight isn't freaky birdlike, he's still got good enough eyes and past experience with booby traps not to just start digging before getting anyone's attention. He pokes his head outside of the bathroom briefly to get Matterhorn's attention. Matterhorn raises an eyebrow briefly, but heads over regardless to keep one eye on the conversation with the Concierge and Dana, and one eye on Courier as he starts checking out the scratches.

The Concierge talking about it not being the first time is just making him regret this more.

Pramanix, meanwhile, has her attention fixed on the conversation entirely. She lets out an uncomfortable noise from her throat as the circumstances of Dana's (first) death come forth. "How awful... But if you were able to get to her and save her, I suppose that's some bit of good luck." She comments dryly, not seeming all too thrilled about what she's hearing. "What about giving her work that isn't fieldwork, then? Surely you must have something less..."

She looks over at Dana again. "... Horrifying for someone who clearly doesn't want anything to do with all the killing."
Ophrys     "Oh, no," Ophrys raises a hand to wave off the Concierge's offer of employment, "Actually I work for Monarch Media. The major media conglomerate in my home territory." Data continues to pour across her vision while she does an admirable job containing the irritation she has over this godawful system architecture.

    "As a conflict resolution specialist, I imagine my line of work has a lot of crossover..." One eye closes, a dazzling smile crossing her face, "But I think I'd be more interested in an advertising deal. Get your company's name out there, get some real business on the table, hmm?" Raising a hand, she offers, "I should perhaps speak with your PR department, but has your company considered the benefits to expanding offworld?"

    She doesn't seem to have much interest in Dana as an individual. The woman's suffering ultimately being used as a 'foot in the door', so to speak.

    "I'd be happy to draft up a collaborative proposal myself, or connect your PR group with ours~."

    Inwardly the cyborg's frustration freezes, then releases. She actually lets out a breath at the same time, the only indication of releasing tension. She traces the core server that the desktop streams from and jams a digital spike in place if only to keep an eye on things. Success or failure, she backs out of the system then to focus fully on the Concierge and her objecting charge.

    "I'll just need the appropriate contact information and we can get started any time."
Persephone Kore      Dana turns her head to the side, resting her cheek on the cushion. The way it squishes her face makes her look pouty, but her eyes are just emptily depleted. Her eyes track up to Pramanix and Kayoko.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "They keep telling me I died. I don't remember. Maybe they're even the ones who killed me. Does it matter if it's 'legitimate'? They're keeping me here in a box and forcing me to kill people! Aren't you supposed to be some kind of hero? You shouldn't be 'negotiating'! Even if I did gamble or something, you should be breaking me out of here!"
     [xxWeezerFan69] "... Sorry. You're just a kid aren't you. Whatever."

     When her name's struck through, she rolls back over in despair. Her voice now is muffled, only intelligible because of those cyber-subtitles. Despite the earlier rebelliousness, that implicit threat in the Concierge's words sends her scrambling back to apologize on instinct.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "No! I'm sorry! I'll... I do want the sleepier missions, really. Please..."

     The words 'free living situation' cause Dana xxWeezerFan69 to utter a tiny, muffled scream into the couch cushions.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "They want me to kill people, not demons. It was big, tall, red I guess?"
     [xxWeezerFan69] "I don't have violent tendencies. I don't. The first time I almost threw up. I can't do this. I can't keep doing this."

     When Ophrys starts chatting up the Concierge, xxWeezerFan69 sits up sharply and balls up her fists. Before now she's only shown 'frustration', if sometimes on the manic side; this is the closest to real anger she's gotten. Despite her protestations about not being a violent person, she feels dangerously close to drawing a gun.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "Are you for real? You're just going to make a business deal with her like I'm not even here? Get the fuck out of my apartment."
Persephone Kore      The scratch on the showerhead is just a scratch. But it certainly lends credence to xxWeezerFan69 and the Concierge's word: the agent's of above-average height, but she'd still struggle to reach it.
Friz Savvy: She's even gotten her name taken...
Dirt: Noise. Hard to remember that. Rain. Distressed expression.
Grit: She's had something essential taken from her.
Moxie: Then we should give something back.
Moxie: I'll give The Concierge an understanding kind of look then.
Moxie: But not too much agreement.

    "Yeah. Alright, I know that kind of contract. I know that kind... too well. But she hates the username, so at least let me give her an alternative."

Moxie: Back to her. Grit, call up as much sympathy for the anxiety as you can.
Grit: Hard not to.
Moxie: I'll do what the Security Chief did.
Moxie: One hand on her shoulder. Then...

    "I can't use that word, but there are a lot of names that won't get disputed. In my program, my boss gave me one from the old edutainment pantheon, instead of my debtor number, because they won't take kind of IP legal action. Maybe it would be better if I called you something like that? Something from an old show? Something that feels better? I don't know, it didn't help me much so maybe it won't help you. But it's a suggestion."

Moxie: I'll shoot a questioning look to the Concierge too.
Savvy: Can't imagine she'll be okay with that.
Moxie: You'd be surprised. It still maintains the power differences.

    "Or maybe it won't. I guess these rules are different enough. Maybe you should pick one. But," (Moxie: Off the knee, stand up.) "I need you to let me visit her, Concierge. She's alive but she's not *well*. She's in a lot of pain and she's really confused, and I have an obligation to *that* from before any contracts I signed -- not to mention she's with the Paladins, like me. I'm gonna keep coming back to this building either way, even if standing in that lobby," (Grit: Need a moment to rub my forehead.) "Even if standing in that lobby's awful."
Angela Parker beams happily. "I love faces. I love all the faces." It is pretty alarming in a way, how Kayoko is reacting to it, but Parker is not smart or sane enough to think about the implications but she doesn't usually get asked about Faces so she is thrilled with her new buddy talking to her about them. "Abnormalities have all kinds of faces. Happy faces. Sad faces. The faces they don't let you see... What are your favorite faces, Kayoko?"

Rook checks out the shower. He grimaces at the scratch marks. "I'm not sure she's mistaken about the demon. That's seven feet up. Not exactly easy to get to."

He isn't going to be wholly convinced until he sees it but he's experienced strange things and he isn't going to just assume that a demon doesn't exist either. Rather, he's going to assume one is there until proven otherwise.

Angela listens to the Concierge's exposition quietly before adding, "your work is not atypical from ours." She assumes that the Concierge showing her good little agents love is the same how Lobotomy Corp shows their agents 'love' and doesn't think twice about it.
Kayoko Kirenai     Kayoko does not look thrilled that Parker is so enthusiastic about the topic of faces, but she does seem to relax somewhat, taking the conversation--somewhat reluctantly-- at Parker's pace. "Abnormalities are those things like that bird that Isaac had, right? They're monsters of some kind? What do others like them look like, I've only seen that one, the Punishing Bird." The question that Parker asked remains unanswered.

Sorry hun. That's not how it works.

    Kayoko understands that, too. She swallows hard, microexpression-twitches betraying that the intended crushed feeling was successfully conveyed, tinged with fear. "I'm sorry, Miss Concierge. Like I said, I don't want her to get into any more trouble."

    Kayoko glances at xxWeezerFan69 apologetically. I know it hurts, but it'd be worse to not do it. Though-- Kayoko presses her lips together, looking at The Concierge as she explains the contract, outwardly paying attention. 'Fan' is basically her last name, and it sounds sort of close to 'Dana'. It's a compromise. Compromise works, it's best for everyone.

    "M-miss Fan(a). I'm not... saying that your situation is fair. I'm trying to figure out the best way to help you. And if we can resolve this peacefully, by managing your debt so you can be free, then we can all leave here happy." Aren't you supposed to be some kind of hero? Kayoko's lips, her expression still politely neutral for the most part, twist into a hint of an annoyed sneer. "Besides. You don't want to make Miss Concierge upset by talking about making more of a mess of her company, do you?"
Karlan Nobles "That's possible, too. It wouldn't make sense to, but it's... Possible." Pramanix murmurs as she considers the possibility of the company being responsible for ~~Dana~~ xxWeezerFan69's untimely demise. There's a brief hitch in her throat at that outburst, and she even seems to be getting agitated at Concierge when that pleading starts as a result of xxWeezerFan69's name getting replaced outright.

"... Are you sure there wasn't a mistake, Miss Concierge? She seems the furthest from a career killer, and certainly not someone you'd want on the types of work you've described. I'm sorry, but none of this makes any sense." She sighs lightly and gives xxWeezerFan69 an apologetic look, then feigns a yawn while holding a finger up to her lips without saying anything further.

Coincidentally, that's about when Courier finishes up looking at the showerhead.  "There's some strange damage in there, but there isn't anything conclusive about it, I'm afraid." Despite sounding disappointed, he still has that pained smile on his face that only intensifies the more he hears. "My apologies if this is touching on a sensitive topic again, but when was the last time you saw one of those demons? There might be a pattern to their appearances that might not be obvious yet."
Angela "Mmhmm! That cutie is called the Punishing Bird! If you let it peck you, it is mostly harmless, but if you hurt it--it's one of the deadliest Abominations there is! They have SO MANY faces, Kayoko! One's face is wrapped up in bandages, another face is a pool of blood, another face is smiling. There's a face with a thousand eyes and a face that is always crying. Whenever a new cutie comes by, I am always so happy to get to see the new faces."

Parker smiles happily. Kayoko is making her day. She doesn't involve herself in her words to Dana. "What is your favorite face?"

But she leaves it at that.
Metamorph One     [The Concierge] "Regrettably, xxWeezerFan69 will not find higher paying work within the company, nore any open positions available."
    [The Concierge] "Don't worry. Temporary memory loss is an ordinary effect of resurrection. I'm sure her inherently violent and subversive nature will return to her with time. (¤n_n)"
    [The Concierge] "I won't mind if she decides to be a less disobedient puppy, though."

    The Concierge slowly turns her gaze on Ophrys. Her smile flickers faint and forced.

    [The Concierge] "That would be something to take up with the board. I merely see to our cute little agents' needs, and our enquiring offers at the front. Oh, and a few small matters of data management and architecture."
    [The Concierge] "At present, I don't think there's any need to venture offworld. There's already so much wrong with this one, you see hun."
    [The Concierge] "You don't seem so lucky, to know who you work for."

    And then she's smiling like normal, hands folded, at Parker, as if nothing happened.
    [The Concierge] "I love faces too. (¤ó_ó)"

    She says, and you could swear that hers just flickered, a little bit.
    [The Concierge] "I especially love the face an adoring puppy makes when you come home from work <3 When they look at you like you're the only thing in the whole world that matters, doesn't that make it all worth it?"
    [The Concierge] "Don't worry about daemons. They're completely harmless. No daemon that meant any ill-will would be silly enough to appear in our agent apartments, after all. (¤>_>")
    [The Concierge] "It likely just offered xxWeezerFan69 some forbidden knowledge and moved on. They really do like to do that. (¤-_-)"

    This time she pats Kayoko on the head. It's as delicate as can be, supremely gentle and without a hint of false affection. Exactly the kind an excellent teacher would give a distressed student a few years younger than her. The Concierge expresses no particular awareness of it being very different to do to a total stranger. Like coddling a disobedient cat she'd just sprayed with water, she croons-

    [The Concierge] "There there sweetie <3 I don't want her to get in any more trouble either, you know."
    [The Concierge] "Just between you and me, I think she has the potential to be my new favourite."
    [The Concierge] "She just needs to be acclimated to her new environment. Can you help her? You seem like a good girl. You know how to tidy your room, eat three meals, drink plenty of water, and get lots of sleep, don't you?"

    It feels like she could spill Kayoko's insides onto the carpet with a disapproving word.

    [The Concierge] "That depends, miss detective. Visitation could be considered a form of investigation, you know. I'm not the one who performs security review; I just try my best to keep my precious little agents safe on my own time. (¤u_u)"
    [The Concierge] "However . . ."
    [The Concierge] "I can make decisions regarding our agents' personal welfare, including service staff, medical routines, and psychological counselling. Would you like to apply for that, hun?"

    It's so easy to forget. So easy not to notice, between the sweet smile and the wink of a shared secret, like a saucy rule-breaking favour, specially offered just for her, is yet another way that all routes lead through The Concierge. That helping Dana means submitting to her authority, one way or another.
Metamorph One     However, her 'cute' agent is soon the subject of The Concierge's fully fixated attention. She puts on a vague and slightly blurry pout. Her heels click even on the soft carpet, as she approaches xxWeezerFan69.

    [The Concierge] "Hun, I've never given you an assignment where you were forced to kill anyone."
    [The Concierge] "I've only ever asked you to spike a few servers for me, haven't I hun?"
    [The Concierge] "I've never asked you to do anything I wasn't completely sure you could do. You're only getting in your own way, with that nervousness. Why don't you try thinking a little less narrowly."

    The smile-- no, it's a different smile that comes back, when her agent is reduced to fearful begging. She leans in, hands to her knees. Her fingers click delicately where they settle against her legs.

    [The Concierge] "I know you do hun. I really do. But if you're going behind my back and talking to other people like this, and causing all sorts of trouble for the company, how am I supposed to vouch for you, hm? Who's going to believe me that you can be trusted, if I can't even trust you? Work with me here, sweetie. You can be good, can't you?"

    For some reason, her smile only gets brighter, more thickly doting, when xxWeezerFan69 denies her.

    [The Concierge] "Of course you have violent tendencies, hun <3 If you didn't, you wouldn't have been hired here. (¤n_n)"
    [The Concierge] "It's okay. You can be whatever you want, as long as you listen to me, and do everything I tell you to."

    Her eyes slide towards Ophrys from her position leaned over towards xxWeezerFan69. The grin remains exactly in place at her outburst.

    [The Concierge] "See hun~? It's really not that complicated."

    She extends her hand, gently cradling Dana's jaw from the side, aligning her gaze together with hers. An unwritten accord is forged, from the delicate, therapuetic stroking of her fingertips across her agent's skin, her gaze fixed on the same point, from her same place in the living room, right by her side, shoulder to shoulder. Her voice falls husky and purring.

    [The Concierge] "Just do what comes natural hun."
    [The Concierge] "Your body knows what to do."
    [The Concierge] "I won't judge. No matter what kind you are, I'll find a place for you with me."
Ophrys     > "Are you for real? You're just going to make a business deal with her like I'm not even here? Get the fuck out of my apartment."

    "Your problem is a Paladin issue," Ophrys comments with her eyes closed, "I'm not exactly in a position to pay your bills. That's why you joined a faction, isn't it?" Her eyes open again, narrow slits of contemplative thought, "If you couldn't handle the work needed to pay the bill, maybe you shouldn't have died."

    Without skipping a beat, the cyborg's attention shifts to the Concierge herself. One hand lifts, projecting a flickering holographic screen from a projector on her wrist, "Then I'll happily take the proposal to the board, should you provide the appropriate connections."

    Pausing, she offers a smile, "Oh, whatever gives you that impression, though? I'm quite pleased with what I have. Not everyone is blessed with the chance to completely reinvent who they are." Her gaze flicks briefly to xxWeezerFan69, "It's honestly more distressing to see someone have so much trouble after getting an opportunity so similar to mine."

    Eyes closing, she offers, "I can only hope you can work through this challenge." Right back to business, "Now then, miss Concierge, I could hardly arrange an appointment with no way to contact the persons in question, could I?"
Persephone Kore      The agent startles at something in Friz's words. Her eyes go wide; with what emotion, it's hard to tell.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "You're with the Paladins too? You're a Paladin, and the only help you're willing to offer is thoughts and prayers and a visit? And a nickname, maybe, from kids' TV? I get the child, but what's wrong with you?"

     The Concierge's attention makes her shudder, like sickly-sweet medicine with a bad aftertaste. It's revolting. Her eyes narrow, jaw tenses. Her voice takes on a whining edge.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "That's not fair. I don't want to hurt anybody. I'm a Medic. But if I get cornered, what am I supposed to do? It hurts every time. I can't just lay down."

     She leans away from that stroking as much as she can without making it an overt motion. But that revulsion hardens her Ophrys-fixed stare. The Concierge's crooning and Ophrys's barbs make for an intoxicating mixture. The tension builds.

     Dana's teeth slip, grinding, and in that heartbeat she rises from the couch and reaches for her gun, and-

     She drops a smoke grenade from her sleeve, separating them in an instant.
     Two dozen wireless pings test Ophrys's cybersecurity.
     With a twisting gesture, an occult hammerblow strikes Ophrys's organs (or equivalents) directly along a fourth-dimensional vector, enough to turn an ordinary person to pulp.
     Her foot kicks a scythe up from the floor to cut Ophrys's right hand before she can draw.

     The actions flow like water, all with the impossible swiftness of a rehearsed quickdraw. When the smoke parts a second later, a rifle that loads a forearm-sized spike is aimed through the clearing cloud at Ophrys's head. Dana's finger is on the trigger. Her teeth are gritted. One eye stares out from between greasy locks of hair, glowing with hate.

     Then her arm trembles, and her knees buckle, and she collapses forward to throw up instead. She can't speak, but the subtitles still work.

     [xxWeezerFan69] "Oh god. Oh, god."
Friz Grit: DEADLY INTENT.
Savvy: Wait, but why would
Grit: DUMPING ALL ADRENALINE RESERVES.
Dirt: Smoke. A sound.
Savvy: she do something like
Moxie: Moving!
Savvy: that when she said she
Grit: PROTECT HER.
Moxie: I'm going!

Dirt: Thin blade. Motion. Cutting through air.
Grit: RUTHLESSNESS.
Savvy: was sick of all the violence? Wait wh
Moxie: Getting my gun!
Grit: IT WON'T BE ENOUGH.
Moxie: I'm doing it anyway!
Savvy: at are you doing?!

Moxie: I'm in position, ready to fire.
Dirt: I'll report motion. Rain.
Savvy: Wait! You fucking idiot!
Savvy: I understand why you got me involved, but, why are you pointing the gun at Ophrys?! She didn't start it!
Moxie: Loyalty among debtors.

    Friz doesn't speak, seeming a little confused about why, when the smoke cleared, she was right next to xWF, detective special drawn and pointed at the assassin. When xWF falls to her knees, she wordlessly takes one step ahead, putting herself between xWF and Ophrys protectively, glancing nervously to the vomiting woman and carefully shifting her position to make sure none gets on her only pair of shoes.

    "We all need to leave this apartment."
Angela Parker says, "aww, I'm glad!"

The face she's wearing keeps on smiling. It's always smiling. If you don't mind the grotesque, maybe it is a bit like a puppy. Always happy to see you.

Angela is quiet. She is silently studying the Concierge's words and stated methodology. She has a script to follow, of course, but Persephone did say perhaps she would not always have to follow that script. She hoped that she could discover herself someday. It is maybe the first time she felt like she knew someone like Carmen--or rather, the way her Sephirah had always spoken of Carmen.

The Carmen that hangs over her head. The Carmen she is an iteration off of. Something both like and unlike a mother. And a scientist that won't look at her that is like and unlike a father. She hates them, she needs them.

Maybe it's not useful information now. But one day she firmly intends to step into the greater multiverse herself. And she wants to see these new rules and understand them. She wants to overturn every little element of truth hidden in these far off cosmos. It is far from the City, so it is fascinating. She isn't going to say that though.

And the Concierge--is she on top, or is this confidence the artifice of someone doing their job? She is unsure. But she listens. Quietly. And studies. And thinks.

Rook watches as Dana unleashes a smoke bomb and points a rifle at Ophrys's head.

"Neat," He says.

Then she trembles and collapses and throws up and Rook frowns.

"Okay, maybe not, oof. Sorry about that. It looked cool until the end. I'm sure next time it'll work out."
Ophrys     A smoke grenade drops. Immedietely, Ophrys drops to all fours. Smoke pops in that instant, filling the cabin with dense white mist. Something strikes metal with the sound of fifty sledgehammers. There's no purchase on the digital attacks, ramming against potent personal encryption.

    As the smoke clears, Ophrys is-- not there. The scythe wobbles from the force of its impact, embedded in the wall.

    "You're fast," there's a modulation to her voice that wasn't there before, a digital rasp to her tone, "Good at multitasking. Solid tactical choice. Looks like miss Concierge can really pick talent. Pity about the rest."

    "In the interest of maintaining good relations with your employer, I'll let you have that one. It'd be rather rude of me to ruin product on the first visit. I won't even charge you for the damage I took. How generous of me, right?" A business card drifts down in the Concierge's vicinity, "I'll excuse myself now."

    "As a warning, though... if you don't behave yourself next time, I will kill you. In self defense, of course~!"

    "Keep in touch, would you, miss Concierge?"

    It's subtle but she departs. An oily outline clad in the stealth system of Ghostware, slipping out into the hallway through the smoke left over from Dana's grenade.
Friz Moxie: She's a ghost. Can you see her?
Dirt: Shimmer.
Moxie: Where?
Dirt: Rain.
Moxie: Dammit. Well, she hasn't cut my throat.
Grit: She could have.
Savvy: And you gave her every fucking reason!
Moxie: Alright, easing out of battle-mode.
Grit: Adrenaline will persist.
Moxie: Well, it'll persist on the ride home.
Moxie: Holstering gun. Getting us that ride.
Dirt: Trembling hands.
Moxie: I'll bet. Exiting, closing door.

    "I'll take that ride home now. If that's okay."