Scene #8446: Action Speaks Louder Than Empty Placation

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	Thirty six hours ago: Eleanor: This is Petra, right? Don't ask me how I got this number. Sabrina: We. Eleanor: :p Sabrina: I literally can't believe we're doing this twice, but check the attachment. Eleanor: I can. It's for the same reason as last time. Sabrina: It's more important than last time. Eleanor: Yeah, actually, there's no annoying little Extras to keep out of trouble. Sabrina: Anyways. We got the datacenter information from the Watch last time we spoke. Sabrina: They claim it's still clandestine, so they shouldn't have changed the locks or migrated the data. Eleanor: I might have stolen my uncle's key-sigil~ Eleanor: Oh, and the aisle and file you know. Sabrina: They increased security after the administrative building was raided, but if you're just burning it all, get in and out fast. Eleanor: And pick up the key! And take it with you! I don't care if he gets fired, but I don't want to get in trouble! Sabrina: We all know His street address. You're still going to have to be quick. Eleanor: Yeah, I'll be honest, Lilian could have told you too. Sabrina: She could have found all of this on her own, too. That's not the point. Eleanor: Yeah u_u Eleanor: If it were about keeping her hand secret, this would have been now or never. Eleanor:This is the worst it's been since first year. Maybe even worse than that. Sabrina: I don't really care who you are or what you want, Petra, but if it helps her even by accident then you'd better do it. Eleanor: Haha, and if you get caught, we'll deny any knowledge you exist~ Sabrina: And don't think about a plea deal. Sabrina: I barely know why she talks about you, but she'll choose us first. Eleanor: Mhm mhm. My grandfather works in the courts anyways. Eleanor: And Lilian will totally throw you under the bus first. Sabrina: Anyways. Eleanor: Anyways! Sabrina: I know this is one of those times where we can't be the only ones by her side. There are things we don't have the power to do. Eleanor: And things she thinks she doesn't, too. Eleanor: But I'm good at being bossy, so . . . Eleanor: Hey. Please help her, okay? Eleanor: I'd never forgive myself if it all fell apart after eight whole years, because I didn't do anything. Eleanor: I can't bear it if the girl we finally got to see come out of all this just sunk beneath the surface again. Sabrina: Get it done, and get out. Then we'll talk about payment, or whatever. Sabrina: I really hope we can trust you. Lilian has put a lot of care into people she can't trust at all, lately. Eleanor: Get it done because I don't really like plan M! Sabrina: ? Eleanor: Plan :M:ake it look like an accident! ;p Sabrina: Can you please stop making incriminating jokes? Eleanor: Eat me. Eleanor: Oh and tell Katrina I said hi! Eleanor: And tell Bryce he's hot <3 Sabrina: Don't.
Lilian Rook	Petra is the only one present who has actually met Matthew Rook, despite various Elites narrowly dodging his physical presence several times in the past. The attached data paints a picture she is likely unsurprised by; that he knows exactly how valuable this kind of once in a lifetime leverage over his semi-rebellious daughter is, and has been thorough and paranoid about ensuring he keeps it. Some is at the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center data facility he has indefinitely monthly rent-renewal of a block in, which he doesn't know the Redshifts already infiltrated once. Another backup is kept in the Administrative Council office where he actually works, rather than submitted to the more secure library, which he knows has been breached already when Rita had the Watch erase vast amounts of debt information to keep Lilian out of a political law enforcement engagement with the angry and powerless masses; something both she and the two ~~class traitors~~ girls on the line had intuited from her silent distress. The last is kept at his personal residence, which is entirely separate from the family estate he lived most of his life in, and now never visits, but jealously possesses. He knows that Lilian has its location, and the various keys, but also knows-- correctly-- that she wouldn't dare cut herself free on her own terms. His utter disinterest in Lilian's friends; Tamamo who lives in the house he only ever visits for two hours on Sundays; Persephone whom Lilian visits alongside his head employee Cecilia, with a room of her own in space; and more importantly, Xion, who is a random event in the spooky rooms of the storied mansion that connect to the Corridors of Darkness. If he'd bothered to know, he could foresee exactly what the security risk of a lifetime is. If he'd bothered to know anything about Petra, the girl he treated with such gentlemanly tenderness, just to use her as casus belli against Lilian and promptly forget about her, he'd know that she'd stop at nothing to see it through. All in all, narcissism is the downfall of experience. Lilian, he knows how to isolate. The Outsiders; who cares? They wouldn't dare. Not while she's Behaving. He has no idea that they can hit all three in one day, in a matter of hours at most.
Petra Soroka	Petra: I'm helping her. Petra: On purpose. Petra: And I'll do it no matter what. Petra: I promise. Petra: Thanks, you two. It's practically the first time Petra's ever texted with proper capitalization and punctuation. Part of that is just from the seriousness of the situation: life or death, even if not literally. Lilian is leaving the Paladins, being pulled from Sapient Heuristics, isolated from the few people who have been good to her and also isolated from Petra, and it's not a question of strength whether she could survive it anymore. Part of it is because Petra wants to be good to the girls that are good to Lilian, and she doesn't really know how to do that other than blunt earnestness. Three locations to hit and steal documents from. To gather information on Matthew that would ruin his reputation, and to erase all of his records of what Lilian did to Petra. Tip the power balance so overwhelmingly back in their favor that Matthew has no choice but to let Lilian go. Not that Petra would let him get away with only losing that much. When Petra finally moves to act on saving Lilian, she does so with a handful of people at her back, and far, far more who aren't and never were. She leaves Lobotomy Corporation by Warpgate with Angela's tablet in hand, streaming Angela's presence alongside her and maintaining a connection with AME to keep track of the information they pick up, as a failsafe if they're caught. Once all the preparations are made, Petra calls Xion to meet up with her. She's waiting in an alley some distance away from the Warpgate, the closest place she could find that was silent, empty, and enclosed on at least two sides-- because even if it's for a good reason, they're still blackmailing someone, and that's a crime! A dingey alley is the best place to be. When Xion arrives, Petra is wearing the same jeans and bomber jacket as usual, zipped up to provide Angela a stable pouch in her pocket. She briefly wonders if it's a mistake to wear the most identifiable clothes that she has-- shouldn't she wear, like, a ski mask, or something? Do people actually do that? How did that never come up in the Watch? "Hey. Xion. Are you ready?" Petra has been anxiously pacing back and forth the entire time, much to Angela's dismay, nestled in her pocket with her camera and face poking out. "U-um. I was thinking the, her house last. Because she might be there, and she'd-- I don't really know what she'd do if she saw me. S-so one of the others. When you're ready."
Angela	SHORTLY AFTER PETRA'S ARRIVAL AT THE FACILITY Hokma was naturally the sort of person who would approach Angela after she had calmed down and asked for privacy. "Angela... You've been bringing people to my floor quite frequently as of late. First Miss Kore--" "She seems to prefer Persephone or Phony. My suggestion would be utilizing Miss Persephone and then adjusting to whatever informal arrangement she may ask for." Angela says. "I understand. But you told me you wished to never see me again and would only come down to business but you are continuously taking people to my floor. I do not mind giving you privacy, Angela, but this is outside the scope of the Script." Angela knew that was coming. The sad truth was that the script had little to say about the Outsiders--activating a Warpgate seemed to be a desperate whim of the last A and, as such, the Script scarcely accounted for them at all. Angela had to use her own judgement more times than she liked because that meant if the loop had to repeat it'd be her fault more than ever. But she was determined to not let it. "I will be as harsh as I must with the Sephirah and our employees to ensure the energy production occurs as planned. You do not need to worry about that. But certainly, for everything else you have deprived me, you are not going to also deprive me the ability to have friends, are you Benjamin?" Hokma's old face (older than his remembered experience truly represented) frowned. He considered two things. The first was that the unstoppable wave had clearly hit Angela and there was little he could do to prevent whatever she'd do with that--and the second was that submitting to this allowance might make the mission go more smoothly later on. Sympathetic ears were something even agents were afforded. "No... of course not." Hokma said. "Do what you must but be wary of drawing attention back to our facilities." Angela was surprised but refused to let her heart thaw. If only he had been as cruel as Ayin from the start, perhaps she would have never known to miss kindness. ...No, actually, Carmen would have taught her for certain.
Angela	Angela is not entirely without inner conflict regarding this mission. She certainly does want to help Lilian but also understands that in the matter of Bad Dads, sometimes help isn't what you exactly want in dealing with them. And there may be more going on here than she understands from the relatively small number of meetings (one in person, others over phone and the like). But these people seem to be Lilian's truest friends and if Angela can't trust their judgement--why--who could she trust? Maybe nobody. And Angela doesn't want to treat the Outsiders the same way as the people under her charge. And as she told Persephone, as reasonable as waiting to collect the whole pot might be--sometimes you just have to do something in less than ideal circumstances. That's the one thing Angela learned from working in Lobotomy Corp for an eternity. And besides, blackmail is pretty convenient isn't it? It stores well, doesn't rot, and can be brought out even years after you uncovered it--indeed, sometimes blackmail is like a wine that grows more powerful with time. Angela fortunately hasn't met Matthew Rook. She'd probably like Plan M though. Angela is (on the video pad) a somewhat stylized vision of an android woman with pale blue and hair with a sidetail pulled up by a red scrunchy. She wears a black dress suit and stockings with a red tie and heeled shoes along with a white labcoat. She is human-looking but cannot be mistaken for human due to the paleness of her skin. Rest assured, Lobotomy Corp is also recording. Angela can pretty much only provide her and Lobotomy Corp's analytical abilities along with her horrifying curse of experiencing time at one thousandth the rate of everyone else. To her dismay, this hyper intelligent AI with the blood of endless employees on her hands including both of her fathers, one of whom repeatedly... ...Is stuck in Petra's pocket with just her head poking out adorably. She'd radiate malice but despite the CUTE foisted upon her, she's actually quite grateful Petra brought her along. If everything goes wrong, well, Lobotomy Corp also taught her that in the worst case scenario you can still learn a great deal to improve results next time. "My understanding is the Library has already been infiltrated so it may be prudent to rely on the Operators there and start with the Council office." is Angela's suggestion.
Xion	Xion had spent a little bit of time on the West Coast of the Americas, going to a surfer's burrito place and not getting a burrito at all. There, she called for the help of the man she knew understood these sorts of problems, and a girl she knew was going through it. The 'Crummy Middle Part'. Even calling it that was an understatement, an infantilization and soft disrespect paid to the enormity of the problem, the scope of the work. And yet that was all that there was, suck before and suck after, adrift on an undrinkable and unsatisfying ocean. Xion had spoke, and hugged, and hoped. But then the moment ended. The Nobody knew that, was told that, if she went home with Lilian and drew the blade that she was born with to strike down Matthew Rook, the break would persist forever, and she would condemn Lilian to be without one more friend besides. It would simply make her feel good, and in a moment of selfishness, it would mean doom. It was not enough to kill the wizard, and stoically bear their death-curse. And so Xion, no longer the 'Hero of Everyone's Hearts', put herself to the task of ruining someone. Without the aid of the Watch's network, Xion couldn't get all the way to the knowing-of-places that she needed to go to, wasn't able to pull the archival data from her resistance contacts and low level infiltrators. She was stuck, and working on clearing the jam... Until Petra called her up. The secluded alley's wall opposite to Petra, shadowed from the light, swims with an inky quality, like the wall was a settling cup of slightly-bubbly liquid coming to a slightly-turning rest -- and then Xion simply walks right through the portal-dark wall texture. Today she wears her black hooded cloak with silver draws and zipper, black gloves, and black heeled boots. Her eyes are shaded under the hood and framed by more dark hair, considering Petra's first question immediately, before moving to pocket the charm chained smartphone in her hand into a coat pocket. "Hey, Petra. I'm ready." She declares, resolved, and lifts her chin slightly so her eyes aren't quite so shaded. "Whatever order works. Do you have a pocket friend? Are we on a Nyoom call? Hold on." Pulling her phone back out, Xion begins thumbtyping and swiping -- and what appears to be a robotic Wendy's mascot vtuber begins invading the pocket link to set up a picture in picture box in the call. "Well, while Wendy's Woman does that... It'd be better if we confronted her father last. Either way, we're doing that data center you found first. We'll do what we have to do, and go from there. Hi, uh, pocket friend. I'm Xion, and I've got:" Holding out her left hand and turning it thumb-down, a metallic 'shwink!' sounds in the air. In a sworl of pale motes that draw inwards and flash mutedly into substance, a goofily large-handled weapon drops only barely into Xion's grip where she holds it firm and without weight. A long silver pole capped wth a key-like tooth dedicated entirely to an empty star in gold, Starlight jangles lightly with the keychain attached to the pommel that tumbles down from the reversed grip. The keychain ends in a charm copy of the tooth - an empty gold star, and swayingly bangs and sussurates against the grip. "This big key. So if anything is locked up, leave it to me. Otherwise, I'm trusting you two to know where we're going and what to do when we get there." Punctuating her words by pivoting over and 'tapping' the wall she arrived in with the end of her key-sword, it is revealed that the Corridor she came in had never actually closed, and swallows up the dipped points of the star like a particularly dirty wall flavored star-gate.
Lilian Rook	The 'datacenter' linked in Eleanor and Sabrina's dossier (itself compiled like a tryhard professional powerpoint, with clearly sourced emojis sprinkled in the margins) is, at least, actually in the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center; the fortified arcology that exists roughly in place of Scarborough on the east coast. Already under the wards, it's a straight teleport to the B2 sub-basement of the admin complex still frequented by people without the magical qualities to count as 'Enlightened', that the Watch had once fought and hacked and improvised in a frenzy to reach; zero spies have died to get the coordinates, but some people did get shot. The Corridors extend well beyond the keycarded elevator, the the clean room, the airlocks, scanner, (now armed) security corridor, and electrified door, dropping the trio(duo?) cleanly inside a large square chamber filled with breath-fogging frigid air, lined with transparent walls and glass-sheltered aisles with monolithic black server banks beneath, as if frozen in ice, churning and blinking and whirring. A significant portion of the country's valuable data and private experimental simulation space is ensconsed here, in computer banks with no external jacks or interfaces, connected only to wall terminals festooned with robust cyber-security protocols. There are also, obviously, security cameras, which can either be completely ignored, and the clock raced, or somehow dealt with in the early space of a few seconds. The exact terminal previously compromised by Neutron is included in the attack plan, as well as the spiked server block, but there are no further warnings.
Xion	Emerging out of the Corridors directly into the server room, Xion is still holding her phone in one hand - bearing Wendy's Woman - and Starlight in the other. Stepping into the cold, Xion takes a quick high view of the server room, flattening against the wall to buy herself a half-moment. With a very physical flick of LCD screen towards the optical ball, her digital conspirator springs off her screen and disappears from the livestream in both locations to traipse like a display across the screen, subdividing across the network to befuddle and disable the system before it spots the small party. With the dancing Sassy Burger Girlbot veil cast over the cameras looping, Xion peels from the wall and looks at the servers... and sighs. "Okay. I think Starlight can help get you in, and I can get you past any locks there are, but... Angela, you're the data analyst right? You're up. I think we'd like anything and everything on her father, plus a little on everyone. We're not coming back here a second-" A third. "-time."
Petra Soroka	Petra continues to struggle with the idea that everyone that she knows don't all know each other too, especially when it comes to Lilian. "Oh-- right. That's Angela. Another one of Lilian's friends. She's can't leave the facility," Vague and ominous, "But she's here to help." Petra looks down at her pocket to Angela when Wendy's Woman joins the screen, briefly overwhelmed at her ability to carry two small computer women in the pocket of her bomber jacket. Angela isn't the only one aware of the cuteness of her current predicament, but the return to the topic of their meeting brings Petra back to tense determination. "Okay. Eastern Seaboard data center, then his office. Then the house. I--" It sucks, to have to draw this boundary right now, and Petra reflexively braces in anticipation of Angela and Xion questioning her. "I should be the only one to actually-- talk to him. You two shouldn't be there when I do. It has to just be me, so he can't-- can't say anything to anyone else. Even I shouldn't know some of-- what he says. We all get the data, and then I-I talk to him." Petra takes a deep breath in and out, steadying herself to overcome the strange guilty feeling of 'stealing the narrative'. It's not an arc. When she opens her eyes again, she's greeted with her first time seeing a keyblade, with a little bit of surprise. She didn't think they were actually key shaped, she thought it was metaphorical, or something. But it opens the portal she needs, so she won't complain about it. "Yeah. Let's go."
Petra Soroka	Inside the facility. Petra is wearing a heavy jacket that she's comfortable wearing in sweltering heat-- due to synthetically impeccable internal homeostasis, much to her dismay-- so the swing between summer temperatures and the refrigerated indoors doesn't even register. Her breath exhales clear in the frigid temperatures, with no moisture to fog. "We don't want to alert security cameras. Not that we couldn't get out in time, but I don't want him knowing anything about how we got the information. It should seem-- seem flawless. That'll probably make him more-- more offbalance." Petra looks down at the tablet again, tilting the hem of her jacket up to turn Angela's face slightly towards her. "Are you able to do something about that, Angela? Since you're, like, a robot, I-- wait." Petra is a robot too. Globules of mercury drip off of Petra's knuckles, the trail of quicksilver trickling out of her sleeve ever since Xion arrived, and float in the air around her as if in zero-gravity. Each of them, with a brief gleam in the light, dart over to various cameras, electromagnetic distortion clinging to each of them to force the cameras to loop previous footage for a short time. Her control over the cameras is far from perfect, though. Besides that, and verifying with the other two what they could do to guarantee subtlety, there's nothing for Petra to do but hurry to the specific server, watching out for anyone less hackable who might be down here. Once by the computer terminal, Petra hesitates with an uncomfortable expression, before resolutely putting her hand on it. There's no reasonable way for Petra herself to deftly access the terminal, even with the spike, and sift through the enormous quantity of data therein, and pick out the relevant files, in a timely manner. This is a level of computer experience well beyond her. Her body, and the indescribable new sense of electronic awareness that it grants her, knows better. Pings of information relay between herself and the server, faster than her mind can directly understand, to transmit huge quanitites of information to Angela for analysis. With that done, Petra presses her lips together and turns to Xion, voice brittle. "Okay. The office next."
Angela	"Hello," Angela tells Xion. "Yes, I am the pocket friend. Call me Angela, please. It is a pleasure meeting you, Xion." Her tone is clinical and professional and doesn't sound like someone who is on a friendship mission at all but her golden eyes settle on the keyblade and then on Xion herself. She listens to what Xion has to say very carefully in particular because she is a new person. "Akin to Fairy Tech." Angela says. "That will be very useful. Thank you." Angela is defaulting to polite but the chilly undercurrent usually under her words is rather muted at the moment as her intentional iciness is not being expressed at the moment. The chilly undercurrent Angela unconciously expresses remains a constant as it is inexorably linked with her carefully neutral politeness designed to limit any and all possible for offense. When they arrive, Angela (effectively) instantly informs Wendy Woman of the security cameras. She's not sure how much time they'll have if they get spotted. She cannot hack cameras herself and it is easier (faster) to communicate directly with an AI since trying to talk at 1,000 times normal speed is not likely to be understood by anyone else. (she isn't sure how to connect to Petra since her terminal is atypical relative to Wendy's). "I am not an expert in subverting computer technology, I simply excel at shifting through data." Angela explains. It feels strange for someone to assume something like that due to being an android--like, other androids are just normal types of people to other people. A ...disability, was it? (she isn't sure if Petra is a robot or cyborg yet either for that matter). Fortunately there is a hacker AI present--to say nothing of Petra's abilities--so Angela can focus on what she does best. Shift through loads of data in a fast amount of time to collect the most pertinent information and copy relevant materials to the Lobotomy Corp database in a data structure locked off from even the Manager. Angela has also considered the possibility of being caught. It has something she thought about for ages. "Sorted and copied into alphabetical folders seperated by type." Angela says, a little slower than with the cameras.
Lilian Rook	The security cameras, circuit closed from the outside, are pinpointed and looped almost instantly; and seconds of footage are scrubbed and timestamped, by a magical fast food mascot accessing and psychic mercury synapses accessing them from direct physical proximity and beaming into the locally stored footage. Simple enough. Anyone could do it. Sifting through data, as Angela is equipped, is tremendously relevant. The supercomputers are fast enough to show her what she wants at the speed she thinks to access them, but it is, appropriately, only the purview of someone who can crunch a thousand times the information to actually locate and excise anything meaningful in a reasonable amount of time. For just a few minutes, her curse is a finely made tool. The rented block is stamped as having been paid and run continuously for nine years-- the figure only precisely important to one. Most of it is taken up by an obnoxiously vast simulational model, being trained on massive quantities of frequently updated data; the grand purpose seems to be to synthesize them into a predictive model that accounts for all of them, and it hasn't done all that much over the years. Practically all the data is tied to an ID tag that parses as an UC-ES registered citizen number, which automatically completes as Lilian I. Rook, specifics blacked out to external access by privilege of Immunes registration (thus, military secret). The specifics are alarmingly obsessive and mind-numbingly boring, chronicling exhaustive mundane activities accomplished under clearly mutually contradictory time periods. The data itself constitutes actionably wild violations of privacy and dignity, misappropriation of medical information, domestic spying, and the model especially must be an extensive leak and misappropriation of information classified . . . Tower? access, with clear intent and malice; Matthew may be powerful in the political world of the Phantom Circle, but even he stands to suffer for scraping the black ink off of the files of 'the heroes of humanity'. The backup is hard to locate, nestled as a lightly encrypted folder with plain naming amidst thousands of others. Previewing what she can in the surroundings, Angela sees something about a Paladins Extradition, and that's probably enough. Provided a sufficient uplink, there's probably enough handy space at L corp to harvest the entire partition, though the model is so vast it's better off deleted. The cautions against deleting the data require additional hacking support.
Xion	Terms are set. 'I should be the only one to actually-- talk to him. You two shouldn't be there when I do. It has to just be me, so he can't-- can't say anything to anyone else. Even I shouldn't know some of-- what he says.' "Petra." Xion begins, just a bit before, as they walk places that digital optics and advanced sensors does not adequately define. The Corridors of Darkness are the spaces between worlds, the span between two points of light, the un- between ways of being. It is colored in a dark spectrum like the worlds within the points of light are colored in a spectrum of light, an impossible inversion of colors that are defined in hue across a native black that takes character from texture, pulse, throb. It smears like paint and runs like a river, and there's paths of it that run thick as swampwater, dusted with twinkling stardust or pathed with bootprints and tiny sprinkles like iron filings. "It has to end with this. Even I failed to do every right thing, blind. I thought she was saved, pulling her from Scathach, but the knight told me to do more, and still, I forgot." "No more space. No more time." The noirette is firm, the whites of her eyes shockingly bright in the world of darkness. "It's fixed tonight. If you can do that, I'll leave it to you. If it's not solved, I'll fix it myself." And means every word. In the server room, Xion remains by the Corridor, blade in hand and ready as her adopted navi-companion interacts with the screen, finally ground pounding into the corner of the screen - and Petra's vision, and Angela's corner-of-screen presence all simultaneously. "So, we're gonna flame grill these files, right?" Any tiny error left in the camera footage will have to be excused - but for a perfect heist, leaving all but the pre-spiked computer terminal untouched was as good as it got. Xion wore gloves to not leave marks, and because it was easier to handle rough things with a little bit of protection. "We can stay and do it right. Then let's get out of here. I don't want anyone to profit of her for hurting her. If we can carve that out, then we can give Lilian's information back to her."
Lilian Rook	Through another Corridor, the building complex technically called the 'Urban Centre Administrative Council Library' instantaneously changes the atmosphere. The air is warm and slightly perfumed by old incense, and was once unspeakably toxic to Petra, though now the dense radiation of artificially distorted sky-and-earth leylines, condensing into magic particulate in the air, merely crackles in her lungs and pops on her tongue like soda bubbles, tasting ambrosia and ozone. The marble floors and stately pillars, immaculate cherry panelling and considerable lack of security cameras, tells a very different story about who gets to work here. Last time, getting here was an elaborate and difficult procedure, frought with multiple magical traps that the hapless and well-meaning had tripped to access paper records. This time, the authentic brat-stolen key-- a diamondoid blue crystal prism attached to gylph-studded silver fittings and a chain like an ID lanyard-- is already waiting for them in the dark and disused store room, and a mad dash through echoing hallways, past tall windows peering out into natural surroundings and a strange moon-- too large and bright and close, with a strange, prismatic sort of layered geometric corona to it-- dodging the handful of late night paper pushers in suits that are still around, and up a few flights of stairs to a circle atrium lined with doors to executive suite offices, each stencilled with an important name. The key flashes and sparkles at several points, and the tingling wash of suspended magic washes over skin and senses along the way, but the office is a simple affair; a locked door with privately keyed protections and probably some form of magical alarm on the other side. Of course it is actually teleport and fade warded, given who he'd like to keep out.
Angela	A useful curse... Angela doesn't know how to feel about that. Should she be elated that something that caused her so much pain is now coming in handy? Her mind is too busy with practical measures for once to really dwell in the moment but it's another strange feeling. When your reality shifts ever so slightly--but that has been your reality for the whole of your being--it can be traumatic as you question the existing rules and traditions you assumed were eternal. There is no time for Angela's trauma today. As Petra succinctly put, her own most special set of problems can be dealt with later. Right now it's Lilian's special set of problems but Angela can't quite help but wonder-- Is it only a curse because you are not living a life? Angela doesn't have an answer to that question, Carmen hiding in her neural structure. "Paladins Extradition," Angela says, but she'll ask for Hacker Support where appropriate from Wendy Woman, someone Angela has no idea is a mascot but may conider for future Hacking needs in the future. Wendy's just beats out the competition. SHe didn't think twice of Petra wanting to talk to Matthew by her own--she just has nowhere near the level of Lore to think twice about that. ''It's fixed tongiht. If you can do that, I'll leave it to you. If it's not solved, I'll fix it myself'' Angela decides she has a positive impression of Xion. "Yes, if you can deal with the security, I can continue shifting through data and deleting irrelevent or unhelpful data." Deciding what is REALLY unimportant is probably the slowest she'll go but--it's true. Her curse is very particularly useful for this precise situation. And she doesn't have to just watch something terrible happen either. It is a good feeling. She just hopes this good feeling isn't immediately crushed by the cold weight of reality. "...Do not trouble yourself overmuch for failing." Angela says. "Failing also provides data." It's her attempt to do something nice for Xion and like someone who is used to failing a lot, she keeps it very very mild. Someone left a lanyard here and she squints at the locked door. It's a locked door. This is clearly a Xion-shaped solution considering the giant key she is wileding. "There is almost certainly an alarm. Can your key 'Lock' as well?" Angela asks Xion like she expects it to be able to 'lock down' an alarm.
Petra Soroka	"No more space. No more time. It's fixed tonight. If you can do that, I'll leave it to you. If it's not solved, I'll fix it myself." Petra clenches her fist, trickling palmfuls of mercury twisting into half-formed blades and staves in her grip, sloshing back into shapelessness with each pulse of her reactor. "It's fixed tonight." She'll do it herself. "Delete it." Petra's instantaneous response to Angela's report about the extradition files, more intensely than necessary. "That all needs to disappear. It shouldn't be backed up anywhere or sent to anyone. The model itself, I don't know, I can leave that up to Lilian to decide. None of it should be left here, because none of it should be his." Petra's usual fondness for gorgeously aged and dignified buildings doesn't even give her a moment of pause in the library, designated as enemy territory as it is. What does make her hesitate is the crackling sensation on her tongue, the forewarning for the burning suffocation that she's endured a few times before. Her breath catches, though her hurried steps through the library don't stutter for more than a moment, and it's not for a long minute of held breath afterwards that she realizes it doesn't hurt her anymore. Petra expects to feel more conflicted about that than she does. The source of that newfound resistance should be internally sickening, but the result, the ability to belong somewhere that Lilian does, outweighs that disgust overwhelmingly, and that realization feels worse than the thought did in the first place. Petra grinds to a halt while climbing a set of stairs and shudders, handrail creaking in her grip. Just like she said to Angela before, though: her problems can wait. Today is for Lilian. She keeps moving forwards, towards the office. At the door, upon realizing that it's locked, Petra lights up and starts digging through the jacket pocket that doesn't contain Angela. She's halfway to pulling out a hobby lockpicking kit that she picked up to fill her free time over the past couple weeks, before remembering that Xion has a sword that is a key, and slides it back in awkwardly. "Um. An alarm. It probably won't be electronic, right? If it's just noise, then there's not much I can do about it, I think... I won't know until we see it." Petra grinds her heel into the wooden floor helplessly, glancing at Xion. A subtle feeling of prickling beneath skin bubbles up in her, shifting when Petra moves as if a cloud of intangible needles surrounds her. "If it's supposed to alert him, though... I think it's okay."
Xion	"I can lock and unlock anything." Xion confirms, sneaking and ducking and rolling and glitch-portaling past the pencil pushers and sleepy administrators of the area, ending up before the door quickly. She's not so uncertain to hesitate, lifting her key to place it to the door's frame where the tooth touches and the door emits an old timey 'click!' of unlocking. "But I don't know about alarms. It depends on how it works. If it's about being locked or unlocked 'correctly', then I wouldn't worry about it. If it's just a ping on being opened, it's not like we're invisible. We just properly opened the door. So either way, we're past the point of no return." Pushing the door open with the tip of her sword, Xion gently pushes Petra forward and carefully blades the door open with a roll of her wrist, allowing Petra (and Up Phoneiscope V-Angela on FaceTime) in first and 'alone'. "Disable the alarm if you can, and then we'll clear this place out." Xion suggests, not realizing how invisible they are to scrying in Petra's presence... due to the general lack of sense she gets from Petra at all!
Lilian Rook	A keyblade to the stately door is an appropriate power to the appropriate obstacle. Outside of the satisfyingly brassy clack of a mechanical latch, a previously invisible film peels away from the door, burning away like paper with smouldering glyphs at the edges, themselves glowing brightly and disappearing into thin air. Even the office space itself, apparently, must be overdone; such is the means of bribing important people to hold a nominal job in managing the affairs of the Extras that support them, aside from everything else. Floor space big enough to be an apartment, rich carpets and mahogany upholstery, frosted glass dividers, a small private lounge to talk business rather than chairs before a desk, an unnecessarily grand workdesk and swivel chair before a (blinded) panoramic window, and a noticeable wall safe. The power of Unlocking seems to have been sufficient for the alarm; something that would otherwise blare if the room were somehow phased into anyways, or if the door were broken down or picked; the lines for it are engraved in the floor just past the door, as a logical and efficient way to failsafe them; there's not really such a thing as 'keyblade-proof'. The personal computer has no preexisting spike, but is easier to hack than the server bank; it's high quality but commission paid externally-installed cybersecurity for people who don't know computers but can throw lots of money at things. As a work computer, there's not too much installed on it; a wallpaper of some photo taken on a glittering forest coast (something feels odd about it), folders of text documents, downloaded presentations, memos, preserved mails, scanned documents, budgets, proposals, projections, requisitions, and an overflowing email inbox. Once again, sifting it as fast as possible is a dire need. Angela recognizes the backup by having the exact same file size as the last one. Most of the other files are dry and practical, and a small collection of photos and card games doesn't seem very important; as funny as it'd be to log into online banking, nobody here has the financial know-how to even understand how to move the complicated pieces of tax-evading alchemy around anyways. What she can do extra, however, is spend 200 hours poring over information with a perfect eye, in 10 minutes, and show Petra evidence of-- well, exactly the kind of kickbacks, skimming, tit-for-tat votes, and insider trading that all significantly wealth politicians, do, actually. There's no way it'd result in actual legal action by itself-- the wealthy are always insulated from that-- but it'd be a nasty rider with the existing material. The irony of it is that if Petra has a good enough memory, she'd still be pretty sure that the amount of money involved is less than she's seen in glimpses of Lilian's individual accounts on her smart device. The wall safe is the obvious location otherwise, and something else an application of Keyblade can manage. The inside is largely stuffed with paper files, and no specific valauables. They're rolled up in individually sealed cases (more unlocking, more defusing) rather than put in manilla envelopes, but it only takes a few minutes of paging to find physical, unhackable, inaccessible, hard records, typed and handwritten, with photos. Petra's hint to it is a corner of one peeking out from between pages, inconspicuous on its own, but after all her time there, she'd never fail to recognize the floor of her cell.
Xion	If wizards have weaknesses, it's ergonomics. It's easier to place the safe where you work, so that you can secure things without going out of your way - expending the power to bury the material. The hubris of wizards to believe in their moment of victory that they had to take the same precautions as usual, or if they had to take any precautions at all. The Keyblade banishes locks and latches, undoes password and encryption, scatters security and clever safeties. A touch, a satisfyingly giving clunk and clank and kerchack of locks and lever actions, and then the troves of wizards are revealed. Standing before the wallsafe, Xion doesn't give a look at the documents when Petra alerts to them, standing idle at the computer instead. Wendy's Woman digitally bulldozes in to the system with Angela in tow, and since locks and latches are nothing before them, they have achingly long to go over the details. Idle, for the moment, Xion lifts her phone hand up to her brow to scratch an itch on her head, frowning at the thought of the banking information. "Angela, make sure to get everything on his financials. I know that Lilian would be able to sell it or manipulate it to her benefit, and I want her to see everything he sees with regards to it. It's important they can... compare sizes." Her joking smile slides off her face grimly. "For the next one... I can wait in the Corridor, if you want, Petra, or can come with. It's up to you. But it's okay if I just show you to the last door. I meant it when I said I was trusting you." "Tonight." She repeats, reiterates.
Angela	Angela says, "Understood. In process." Her frown pokes out of the pocket. "This amount of surveillance is overly extensive." Not that Lobotomy Corp is one to talk. This is another element that makes her reconsider a thing or two for a moment, but only for a moment. She isn't going to NOT listen to Petra when this is Petra's mission. If nothing else, Angela can be a Yes Woman (not the Robot Master) when it comes to it. Angela's pad wobbles slightly as Petra works in the other jacket pocket. She raises an eyebrow at the lockpicking kit. She definitely wasn't expecting that. "As you wish." Angela says to Petra. As before, she waits for Wendy and Xion to handle the hacking before shifting through the information. 200 hours worth of work IS actually about ten minutes for Angela. Judging from what Petra said of the previous data, Angela takes the time to delete the copies of that information as well. Ideally there isn't a third copy-- --It'll be closer to the end of the ten minutes that Angela manages to forward Petra the typical nonsense of the wealthy--some of that extra time is Angela needing to consider whether or not that this kind of material actually matters--but it is still pertinent information, even if she is uncertain of it being helpful. In the City, this sort of stuff is just presumed and is likely to be more embarrassing than illegal. She doesn't comment on the wealth disparity because Angela is ignorant of that element though if it's surprisingly low (even if still wealthy) she can make a note of that at least. She's getting into a kind of flow here. "If this is insufficient I can take a second look." If she could have asked Hokma or Chesed for help--well she wasn't inclined to do that anway. Fortunately evidence of Matthew's misdeeds is something she can make copies of for those who do know what they're doing. She does know a certain corporate madman now after all, one she doesn't work for.
Angela	Angela adds, "Naturally." to Xion. "But they are just financial crimes. It may not be enough." ''It's important they can compare...sizes.'' "...If he is less wealthy than the Dame Commander, that may be better material than crime."
Petra Soroka	Petra's through the door the moment it opens, alarm or not. Before she's even at the computer physically, her cybersensory presence jumps the synaptic gap between herself and the computer, dismantling the security system by the time she's there to look at the contents. She leans against the desk, surveying the room in the time it takes to funnel the data to Angela. It makes her mad, that a room this beautiful would be used by someone like him, like there's something intrinsically contradictory about his presence in some place as elegant as this. Like the walls are done a disservice by listening to him, and the lounge should have memories that aren't filled with his slimy voice. It's an indistinct, half-complete thought, that there's some requirement of 'deserving' when it comes to this, and the evil that Matthew has done should bar him from it. Xion opens the safe, and Petra is there in seconds, boots scraping to a halt on the wood floor. "These are-- these need to go too. But I-I'll take care of them. It needs to be me." Petra has her lighter, she could burn the photos right now, but that feels a little wrong too. Instead, she crumples them up into a ball, and lets the tide of silver flow over it, encasing it in a smooth metallic sphere. Razor spikes puncture inwards, ripping the documents into shreds, and she stows the wreckage in her pocket to dispose of completely later. Then, every part of her body rigid, reactor whine distantly audible, Petra turns to Xion. She pulls Angela out of her pocket and holds the tablet out for Xion to take. "Tonight. I'll be able to do it alo--" Petra reflexively starts to deny Xion's offer to wait in the Corridors for her, to demand that she does it all herself. She cuts herself off, takes a breath, and runs a hand through her hair. "Yeah. If you could-- wait in the Corridor. I'll need a way back that doesn't have me walking out his front door. Thanks. Both of you. Really."