Scene #8783: WPN Postscript: Bishop of Vermillion

Owner	Pose
Angela	Angela has not really enjoyed Meika's presence in the facility. She understands Gebura's rationale, she understands the Manager's compromise, but she isn't enjoying it. It feels, frankly, like a disaster waiting to happen. Sal has been visiting a lot to conduct 'the tests' and take information down. The tests involved largely a lot of conversation--less seemingly aimed around having a clear goal behind it but to judge reactions, kind of like a conversational inkblot tests. Enkephalin has been taken from Meika and studied. Her notebook is kept seperate and also studied. Angela has mentioned to Meika it would likely only be a few more days though there seems to be some conflict between Lobotomy Corp itself on how to handle it. Gebura, however, has been patiently waiting for results. She arrives, still faceless and wearing that mask around her head. She mutters under her breath, "What am I fucking doing...?" But it seems to be a matter unrelated to Meika. She stops, turning to look at Meika's cell which just ignites new anger in her. Tweed and Carol who are watching Sal (who is presently in the cell with meika) through the window look pissed and concerned respectively. Gebura turns and crosses her arms, watching. Probably. You still can't see the face. She has been keeping her EGO Armor on all this time as if expecting something to fuck with her mind again. "It seems you'll be leaving soon," Sal says to Meika, carefully judging her reaction. "We simply need to wait on results to clear you." Sal says. "But I did have one question. Your notebook. What does it mean to you, Bishop?" While most Agents still refer to Meika as Meika--others have started using Bishop or Vermillion recently. It seems she's gotten a proper designation. "Please feel free to elaborate as you wish."
Meika Kirenai	Over the days of probing questions and meetings, it's been clear how prickly Meika is. There isn't much she wants to cooperate on, even if she'll answer most questions, anyways- it's a sense she doesn't want to more than through action. She doesn't lurk near the doorway when it's cycled, of course, and she doesn't try and break out even once. The magical girl is eerily like a normal schoolkid sitting in a jail cell. "Leaving soon. Why not now? What's- what's a test result even going to say? What more do you need to know?" Meika's cell isn't quite the same slightly-cozier it felt, after days and days of inhabiting it. It doesn't matter that she can leave it a few times a day, that people still talk to her, that Abnormalities still talk to her, being cooped up for days on end when those feel as numbered as they do in the first place, is achingly difficult. Sal could be the nicest Agent in the world, and Meika would still grow to hate them. She'll never say, though, that she hates it more when nobody is around, when nobody's saying anything, and all there is is that awful camera in the corner. That part feels too familiar. Meika doesn't have to look at the window to know the other two agents are right there. The slightest tapping noise on the bulkhead door, or the glass, and she'll know- and they're thinking loud enough- no, she's just eavesdropping on the people who get too close to her containment unit. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and the bile at the base of her throat burn. She's plenty willing to overhear thoughts of those within the unit, too, of course. Meika wouldn't dare get up from the cot she's sitting on, hugging her legs and ignoring the crumpled paper and empty beer can beneath it, to do anything- but it feels like a bit of retribution, to toe that line and glean what she can from the Agent that's trying to do the same to her. Your notebook. What does it mean to you,--' "That's not my name." Quiet, resigned- Meika still stiffens up each time that designation comes up. No doubt, someone studying behavior or camera footage would have picked up that Meika chews her lips when she appears stressed- and, looking away from Sal, she appears stressed. "It's my sketchbook. I sketch stuff in it." A non-answer. In studying that, wherever seperately it's being kept, workers would easily note the contents- but more notable, is the lack thereof. More pages of it have been ripped and torn out, whether in parts or in their entireties, than there are un-ripped pages. It's well worn, the spine is weak, and it flops oddly when held from the lack of paper mass. Inside, there are a few types of drawings that fill up the paper. A handful, sometimes a few to a page, are renditions in varying levels of care and delicateness of Chevalier Vermillion- it's easy to tell it's her, penned on the pages, with details from the ribbons and bows to the skates built into the metal boots. It's distinctly childish, like drawing out a favored superhero. A few are sketchy graphite studies of animals and scenery, pressed flowers, rotting fruit, the shapes into which slabs of concrete can crack and crumble. Plenty more than either of those, though are just completely smeared over with graphite, or otherwise hazy, erratic scribbling that shouldn't mean anything, while a scant few pages just aren't worth looking at.
Meika Kirenai	"I need it to transform right, is all. That's how it's got to work. But it's- when can I have it back?" That further explanation is the most Meika gives to its purpose, unless pressed. Vague, uninformative, and clearly vitally important to her- she perks up each time it's even mentioned, worried. "T-that's... how it's got to work, right? When you're in trouble, the police give you your stuff back when you get free. Or if it's not harmful, or something. It's just a sketchbook." Meika taps her fingers on the back of her other hand's knuckles, silent. That's another notable little habit, how many of her mannerisms exist without that element of perception. It's hard to not think that the times she does make noise, must be something close to intentional. "B-besides. I thought last time one of you came in, I asked for cigarettes. My pocket money's with you, too. So. Just take the cost out, if you gotta..." She's really, really in no position to be bargaining.
Angela	From Sal's brusqueness, it's pretty clear they are getting a little frustrated--with Meika? Not exactly. The job in general. Feeling like they are just treading along waiting for... An End. The End? Something along those lines. "...We haven't received the results of the mental corruption tests. You should want us to be thorough on that or--" They recall notes saying that the Bishop gets distressed when the 'wrong names' are used. "Courage might try to take over your body again." She ticks her pen a few times, taking notes. They aren't supposed to mention the facility's interest in Temptations so they don't. They are not the nicest Agent around--because all the nice Agents have been crawling up Gebura's ass about this and she isn't inclined to put anybody who might fuck around near Meika's cell. Cinder promised to bring a cigarette but she hasn't been back yet (she got caught). But Sal is uninterested in makin friends and just wants to get the job done. They may be the platonic middle between liking meika too much or outright despising her. Their thoughts radiate misery but it is not directed at Meika but rather with regards to M.O.M who died on an offworld mission. Already the world moves on but they are already waiting for...something. "Vermillion." Sal shifts (the Bishop was a Repression Work test). "I am authorized to supply one cigarette." They reach into they jacket pocket and draws out a cigarette confiscated from Cinder and extends it out to Meika before drawing out an accompanying lighter and flicking the flame on. You can practically hear the report indicating 'Offering the subject cigarettes yield positive results'. Tweed isn't thinking about Meika at all. She is thinking about cafeteria food--namely what she wants to eat next. She's a hungy gal and is hoping for Sal to hurry up so she can go with them for their meal break. Carol is actually here with Meika's and that isn't helping Tweed be less hungry. She is frustrated and feeling anxious and is thinking about how miserable Kayoko sounded when she spoke up on the radio!
Angela	Gebura stares through the window, but is some distance away rather than right up next to it. She cannot hear what's going on inside but her foot taps impatiently like she's waiting for something to happen--or is just working off excess stress. Enkephalin is drawn ambiently. Even the Agents supply a portion of it to the facility as do the Sephirah but few people in the facility know how it actually works--including Gebura--so a lot of what they do is throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. Sal, from the Info Department and as its Captain, knows a little more. "We will return your items to you." Sal looks up at the camera. "Right Manger?" They look back down to Meika. "Sorry our only experience with prison as opposed to just being murdered on the street is from that world with the Rowdyrufs--Normally they just execute you on the spot here." The Manager sends a confirmation through their personal comms (if Meika listens in, he sounds tired). "The mental corruption tests involve testing Enkephalin we've drawn from you during your imprisonment here. We can cross reference it with Courage's and if there's overlap we can deride an approximate percentage of mental corruption. Normally this is a test for agents so a base scan has bene collected but we don't have one from you so it'll be more approximate. But that isn't a big deal. So long as the result isn't abnormally high, we'll let you go. If it is we'll have to work out a treatment plan with the Paladins. We don't want what happened with Beozzi to happen again." L-Corp behind the scenes has been looking for a few things in particular though they are braced for an affect similar to what happens when reading CENSORED's information where much is redacted. Sal isn't going to admit this part in case it interferes with the Work they are performing but they know Lobotomy Corp has been curious about the method by which the Refulgence 'magical girls' have been correlated to Temptations, and how they correlate with their own magical girls. How does one become a 'magical girl', really? What is the effect that steals memories away? Is Meika's thinking patterning in a very similar way to Courage's? Why does she require the notebook to transform? Does she? Is the aging out process simply...biological? The difficulty of delving into the collective unconciousness is that you never really know what you're going to get. It's the collective unconciousness after all, but with Enkephalin they can find something related--even if it's only a story. What Sal does say is, "...There was an Event similar in our world to what your Temptations do. A sort of shared forgetting. We know what it's called: The Smoke War'. We know how it started and how it ended. We even have some Abnormalities based off the event." They lower the pad they've been working on. "...Your notebook functions in a way similar to what we've gleaned from CENSORED. Some of your pictures are clear and crisp but others are... impossible." They pause. "So it is altogether possible the result will be inconclusive. Either way we can't keep you here for long. I doubt the Paladins would appreciate it." They still think she's a member.
Meika Kirenai	'Vermillion.' / / / / Abnormality Work Favor Repression work is overall neutral. This Abnormality responds poorly to direct and overt denials of desire, but seems unaware of passive methods. This Abnormality shows a strong response towards shame, and appears to enter a more dormant, if irritable, state when consistently denied attention and interaction. Repression work shows higher impact when preceded by Instinct work. "R-right. Thanks. That's a better one." Meika hates how often she's come to expecting something other than 'Chevalier' to be silently preceeding that term, now. "I- I haven't even seen Courage since then. I didn't know- I'm fine. I've said I'm fine, over and over..." "My mind isn't- isn't corrupted, or something. There's nothing wrong with it. I'm just me." Even if she's had its context explained, 'mental corruption' is a hard thing to deny without feeling like she's lying, regardless of trutht. Meika's fingers tense up, worried that somewhere, there's a method they're using to detect mistruths. When it's stuck out her way, Meika waits a second, before taking the offered cigarette. She pulls a hand away from how it's hugging her knees- her fingers are usually wrapped in a bunch of small red band-aids. Right now, they're just covered in scrapes and scratches, fresh and old, from fighting, picking, and chewing -and takes it, lighting the end. Her hands tremble as she holds it up near her mouth. "...Um. Thanks." She knows it's not a kindness, just something given for observation. Even if she couldn't guess, she'd be able to tell. It still puts her obviously more at ease. Enkephalin bubbles up in the indicators. / / / / Abnormality Work Favor Instinct work appears to be marginal. This Abnormality responds negatively to contact, advise caution entering close proximity. This Abnormality responds neutrally towards allocation of nutritional materials, and appears not to consume meat. Highest success with Instinct stems from administration of more neurochemically active materials, such as caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, chocolate.
Meika Kirenai	'-Normally they just execute you on the spot here.' "O-oh. Right." Meika's calmed enough to be sitting more forward on the cot,now, one leg down and swinging back and forth, not touching the ground. Some sort of special exception. In a cell, but nicer than they'll do for... Meika coughs. It's probably from the smoke. She's always listening in on things she shouldn't be- the Manager's comm message included. It doesn't feel good to, but it's comforting to have that tiny feeling of marginal control. Meika's foot kicks back and forth, back and forth, the cot's springs squeaking- once, just once. "...We're- we're both magical girls. If it's similar because of that... would you know? Or would you just..." Meika goes quiet, taking another drag. Work a plan out with the Paladins. So they're okay with me being here. That means it's... She mumbles, audible- "Probably for the best..." '...Your notebook functions in a way similar to what we've gleaned from CENSORED.' "H-huh? What are you- no. It doesn't. It's just a notebook. I-" Meika's mouth moves, silent for a second, before it closes up again. "Don't- don't worry about that. It's not for you, even if you could." It is, in fact, absentmindedly easy, for those pages to slip from memory and focus. Meika doesn't have to do anything herself for that to get eased along. "...Yeah. That's- that's right. People wouldn't be happy if I was here too long." More words that feel like lying. Her teeth would grit if she wasn't focused on her one allotted cigarette. Wouldn't it make so many of them happy to see me here? Konoe's got to be cheering, with how right I'm proving him. I hate this. But it's fine. I'll be out, eventually, and it'll be- One of the cot springs makes a sound like it's snapping in half- Meika doesn't jump, but Sal might. The magical girl didn't realize her free hand on the frame had been straining at the metal the way it'd been, stressed and distracted. "...S-sorry."
Angela	"Yeah... And maybe you are, but Geb--it'd be better if we did away with any ambiguity." Sal says. "...It'd be better, trust me on that." This might be the most genuine kind thing Sal has said as it seems unrelated to the work. They seem ... nervous about Gebura. Nervous about not doing what Gebura says. It's the same way some people get nervous about the Dame Commander sometimes but a little more real because Gebura is faceless there and staring, staring, staring. Is it really unreasonable to be intimidated? But Gebura is angry. And so long as nothing goes awry, that anger can at least stew within the Color's brain rather than be expressed in decidedly worse manners. Seems like Cinder had the right idea. Sal thinks, writing. ''We're- we're both magical girls. If it's similar because of that...would you know? Or would you just...'' "You're the first other Magical Girls we've known. We won't know for sure until we get the results but unless you're about to engage in the behavior Courage tends to you'll likely be fine, judging from how high corruption tends to go." They quirk their head at Meika. The King of Greed hasn't spoken up with them in the cell and she's not likely to. Sal feels like they shouldn't press the matter of the pages too much and so they don't--and then they stop dwelling on it. "We'll likely bring more cigarettes from here on out." Sal says. "Will have to apologize to Cinder for foiling her. Her instinct was spot on." Sal closes up the pen and pockets it, holding the clipboard they've been holding onto to their side. "...Yeah, in my opinion we kept you too long already but--" They grimace. "Nevermind. That's enough for now." They make their way to the door and it slides open. They step out, the door slides shut behind them. "...You forget to ask about it?" "What?" "The /notebook/." "Oh, yeah, she says it's not for us and==necessary to transform?" Carol pops in with a, "I think we should just let her go back home. They're worried about her. Didn't you hear--" "We're not rushing this. People died. The facility nearly fell." Carol grumbles and theni t goes quiet again. But not for long. There is a howl--a wolf like howl that permeates through the facility. This isn't the first time Meika has heard it. Even in a soundproofed room, it is as clear as if the cell was open. Gebura isn't saying anything but Carol shouts about a 'breach'. The Red Hooded Mercenary's doors bust open and she passes into view of the window, stopping to glance askance at Meika. "The wolf... is coming. Don't get in my way." Whether that's to Meika or to the staff is unclear but the doors open again after and Gebura is standing in the doorway this time. "Two WAWs." Gebura says. "...You're a magical girl, aren't you? How about you transform and lend a hand. It'll speed this up." She seems unconcerned with the Abnormity battle occuring behind her. That faceless mask is wholly fixated on Meika. "...If you're really like the others, you should follow the same rules."
Meika Kirenai	'...It'd be better, trust me on that.' "...Okay. I get it." The resigned tone is back, a bit. She knows better than to push that more, knows better than to hope she'd get anywhere with them. It's easy enough to choke down. "What's- what is... 'engaging in behavior' like her, supposed to even mean? How would I know? She's not even here, right?" A slow exhale, through teeth. "Whatever. Out of my hands, right? And out of yours. So no use at all..." Clenched hands unclench, flexing open. 'We'll likely bring more cigarettes from here on out.' "I've been asking," says the teenager with a nicotine addiction. "W-why are you surprised?" She scowls, tapping the burning cigarette and watching a bit of the ash fall down to the floor. "...I w-wouldn't have done that if I didn't want them, or something. It's not- not that hard." She waves Sal off, as they make to leave- leaving a tiny trail of smoke hanging in the air from the motion of the cigarette she's holding. Meika's eyes rest on that, and not the Agent. It's easy to lose track of the scant moments between the soundproofed door closing back up again, and anything of note. Whether it's half a minute or ten, she sits there, feet kicking, making the ember of the smoke burn closer and closer ot her knuckles until it's gone with a silenced yelp and a flinching wave of her hand. Meika jolts at the howl. It's hard to not think it's not real, with how tangible it is somewhere she shouldn't be hearing things from- but everyone else outside seems to hear it and react, too. When her neighbor breaches, and flashes by the window with the words of warning, Meika hasn't yet gotten up- but her heart is pounding in her ears. '...You're a magical girl, aren't you? How about you transform and lend a hand. It'll speed this up.' "Okay, I- I- yes. Where's my sketchbook? Do you have it? Sal was talking about it, so I'll- I can help, with it." Meika's already hopping up off the cot, her feet not making a soft thunk as she stands, upright. / / / / This Abnormality can Benefit the Facility Meika hesitates, as she nears the bulkhead's door, staying near its corner before peeking out. Watching the first flash of combat behind the Sephirah is scary- it always is -but it's also something to do, to help make better. She's almost excited for the chance, if not the activity. Gebura's next words made her flinch, though. "Same rules..?" She parrots. Is it a rule they have to help fight? That's not too awful, right? I can fight. I'm good at it. I do it all the time, so I can get this stuff right... The way Gebura stares at her through the mask is uncomfortable. Meika shfits her weight from foot to foot. "I- I said I'd help. Just let me have my notebook. I don't even- even need a weapon, I'll make do."
Angela	"...We're not surprised." Sal had said. "Look, you say you're like the Abnormalities so we're treating you like one. Abnormalities lie. Sometimes they lie to themselves. Sometimes they tell the truth but it's only true for the moment. So we apply the scientific method to figure out how to actually treat them. Frankly... I find it better than the halfwit way people usually try to get to know each other in reality, but Abnormalities are easier to understand than humans. Part of the joy of the job I guess." They don't sound that joyful about it but this is their job Meika is talking down and they can't just let that slide. "...It'll be over soon." They continue their departure. But then the bigger problem pays a visit. Gebura blocks ready vision of the battle, but Meika can hear the wolf call, closer than before. The Red Mist has no eyes like this to close. They've been hesitant to return to their normal state. Angela is distracted by Concord politics, not that Meika would know this. The frustration for Gebura is simple. She has a job to do with Abnormalities and Meika hits most of the boxes and--for that matter--continuously compares herself to Abnormalities. And irrespective of all that... She has caused problems for the facility, but even she isn't sure why RIta who has decidedly a number of tentacles--doesn't twig her as an Abnormality and Meika does. Maybe it's just because Lilian spoke to her about Rita beforehand and not Meika. Or maybe... It's not really about tentacle count for Gebura. Or maybe not even really about the monsters in the dark at all. "...I don't like it." Gebura says. "The way the eyes and mind slide off that notebook. You don't transform without the notebook, but something tells me it's not because you can't. What are you so scared of that Hearthward thinks you come here unprotected? Why do you feel a connection to ''these'' magical girls and not others? Angela's been too lenient because she sympathizes. She hasn't been hiding who she cares about out there well at all, nor as much as she cares about it relative to her actual job." She draws Mimicry into her hands. Mimicry can generously be called a sword. If a sword was made of flesh. If it had eyes. If it looked like some THING was trying to pretend to be a sword more than it actually is one. But Meika has seen what Nothing There could get up to. And she knows the awe people in the facility refer to Gebura as. She has a whole title that she doesn't need to defend or ask people to call her. They just do. The eyes on the blade twitch and stare at Meika as Gebura slings the EGO Weapon over a shoulder. "...The way you talked about Rita Ma. 'Then shouldn't they just not be revealed in the first place? IF they hurt. If it's not something you want to show. That's out of love. If it's better for everyone..." It's a summary, Gebura doesn't have perfect memory, but one line she remembers perfectly. "If you're sorry, why are you staying like that? ... That's not someone you'd say from the outside. I think you're speaking from personal experience." She unshoulders the blade. "Nah, no book. No pretend pictures." Gebura says, swinging back the sword patiently. There is no way out of the cell besides through her, in the moment. She takes her time pulling the blade back, letting the anticipation set in for the swing--precisely because she is someone who can afford to be patient. "But what clinched it to me is how you gave that picture to 'Love'. Changed your mind about hiding one's tendrils?" She shakes her head. "Nah. You just let your true inclination peek out. So let's see it!"
Angela	Gebura swings the sword forward. It's the shockwave that is likely to hit Meika first. That's how powerful Gebura's sword swings are--even the places she ISN'T cutting aren't entirely safe. The Agents are too busy to stop her. No, they couldn't stop her even if they had nothing else going on. Gebura just saw an opportunity to act without having to deal with immdiate complaining and she took it. After the shockwave, the sword moves towards Meika at a speed best described as impossible. She can feel heat radiating from the blade dripping off it--like someone's arm held close to the throat. But the arm is sharp. And it cuts. The backwall of the cell PUNCHES inward as it crates from the strength of what ISN'T headed Meika's way. The containment cell meant to resist even the King of Greed's fists caves in on itself and crumples. Mimicry will stop before it cuts Meika, the strike cutting itself off what feels like should be after it cleaved through her. You can't stop a strike that last second while swinging with that much might. Gebura manages it after all, staring at Meika the whole way through that eyeless mask that, coincidentally, makes it impossible to read her face. But you don't need to to read that she is someone who is accustomed to killing, someone who has killed for a long, long, long time even when she herself was a child. She has been fighting to live since the day she was born. She wasn't trained. She just chose to survive. And she figures Meika will too.
Meika Kirenai	- - - - - <Q-conversation> Angela says, "Magical girl abnormalities are classified as such due to their dual natures... - - - - - 'Why do you feel a connection to ''these'' magical girls and not others?' "Not others? I- I don't know what you mean, there's... Cobalt, there's Onyx Witch, there's- there's Miss Strawberry,and I-" That's all the ones she knows. A few other she'd wonder about being, aren't, probably- Petra said she wasn't, confidently, and she's not even going to consider whether Rita- "So why wouldn't I care about them, too?" There's that dishonest pang, again. Frazzled as she may be, there's still more obvious connections, there. Meika shrinks back, under the gaze of Mimicry's moving eyes, wary of stares even under normal circumstances. Watching the EGO sword get hefted and shouldered causes even the magical girl's breathing to be silenced. Every word of hers that Gebura returns, makes Meika's expression falter more and more. Stress, fear, worry. "Personal experience..? No, n-no, that's- I didn't say any of that. You're wrong. It's- it's not. It's not, and I-" Meika's mouth keeps moving, silent again. Words laced with magic try and worm their way into the Sephirah's mind, and shred out the phrases she's calling up, finding a way out of culpability. / / / / This Abnormality is Capable of Employee Alteration "Please, I- I told you, I need it to help, to fight. I- I said I was going to, that I can, and I can, okay..? It's not- not pretend, it's important!" She's cornered. She sounds frantic. What does she think is going on, does she know- There's really nothing but fear, watching the Sephirah pull her sword back, testing it with each prodding line. The exit is behind her-- blocked, impossible, out of the question-- through her. Each second feels like burning acid in her chest, ambient noise enough to shape out every detail, every outline in the containment unit. It's devestatingly louder, just having the soundproofed door open- it latches on her mind, every single time she frantically assesses her options. It'd be easier to sit still and take the hit, if the door was closed. Easier, always, if there aren't other options. 'But what clinched it to me is how you gave that picture to 'Love'. Changed your mind about hiding one's tendrils?' One wouldn't even have to read lips, to know that the silent words Meika is frantically mouthing are 'No, no, no...', repeated with smaller and smaller movements. / / / / Management Tip Some Abnormalities mimic human behavior to prey on sympathy! Be careful! She's really, truly cornered- and not just in action. Anticipation makes everything feel like it's happening in slow motion, while adrenaline makes it all blur together, thoughts smearing across one another. She's going to kill you. She's been waiting to, you deserve it, and there's nothing you-- How much worse could it get? Isn't it bad enough already? Shouldn't you cut your losses and not just dig this any deeper than it has to be?
Meika Kirenai	'Changed your mind about hiding one's tendrils?' 'You just let your true inclination peek out.' 'So let's see it!' True, true, true, true, true, true, true, true. Why does 'true' have to matter? I'm trying. I've been trying. A lie is okay if it's better for everyone, and I need it to be. 'True' isn't who I'm supposed to be, God messed up choosing someone who wasn't right, but I figured it out, how to patch the tear, who I need to be for everyone's sake. I made her to be brighter, cleaner, better than me, a brave knight God could see even if nobody else would, so I could try, really try, and make it matter. I know I didn't, I know I'm not good enough at it, but I'm trying, and I really thought I could keep that up, even if- "I- I don't want to..." Frantic words, barely audible, twisted in their believable meaning without being privy to Meika's racing thoughts. But the sword is already swinging- Gebura's cut off the rest of the time to sit and think. Meika tries to raise up her arms- I'm going to die. There's nothing I can do about it- No, I could- I shouldn't- It'd be so easy to- Since when does that make it okay? It's just like breathing- As if I deserve that- But I want to- / / / / This Abnormality is Capable of Breach Metal panelling blooms into a ruptured crater, at the soundless shockwave's caress. The outstretched blade swings toward a figure that has already f-f-flickered past her outline. For one awful, beautiful fraction of a moment, there is a hanging sense of peace in the silent cell, as motion draws out eddies in the thick graphite-smudge cloud flowing outwards. Air crackles with bristling sharpness, thunder smeared on paper. At its core, the blurred, distorted figure- the magical girl, is already bolting from where the EGO blade halts in a swirl of static sound. Force buffets, crystalizing with that faked-real echo, into spikes that latch and grab into anything that dares to have tangible mass. Where the charcoal haze billows, glows and flickers burst into ephemeral existence, and where it touches walls it melts into them, gouging out channels and careening across it- That same faked-real glow, the one that horrible Jester borrowed, erupts out of every warning alarm in the hallway outside, echoing out a falsified approximation of alarms, overlaid klaxons, car alarms, school bells, everything to mask out whatever warnings are or are not sounding themselves, grasping that tiny angle of influence and control and squeezing. The alarms themselves shatter- the shrieking doesn't stop.
Meika Kirenai	/ / / / This Abnormality is Capable of Department/Facility Alteration With how ear-bleedingly loud it is, though, when the haze melts away from the cell and careens into the hallway, replacing the alarms is just a playful futility. Gebura's vigil is bypassed entirely, as motion carries through walls themselves, leaving them far from unscathed in the passing. Metal that should squeal and scream as it breaks, stays silent. Heartbeats that shouldn't be heard at all, echo. {"-Are you happy? It feels like flying, and falling, I should hate it like I know it should be hated-"} It's so, so very hard to see the figure shifting within the haze, as much as you can call the silhouette traced by rippling echoes and eddies a 'figure', lacking details and features. Words come whispered, with impossible clarity in the ambient din, with impossible security in the ever-present observation. Hearing the words feels guilty, wrong, and saying them feels effortless- thoughts spilled where they ought not land. {"-Safe from all that howling, I can do what you asked, I can, I can, it won't even be hard and then-"} - - - - - The managerial cameras, with their cognition filter intact, simply view the magical girl's breach-in-progress as Chevalier Vermillion- albeit, unsettlingly non-cartoonified, rushes out of containment to go assist with the other breaches in progress. It's what she was asked to do, after all, it'd be odd if she wasn't assisting. - - - - - In the hallways themselves, though, where the Big and Will be Bad Wolf fights the Red Hooded Mercenary, hailing, crackling flurries, paint those awful, deafening spikes across where the distorted, static cloud passes through. There's a tangible fervor, a whisper felt at the back of the neck, as metal panelling and Central's pretty chandeliers rattle and shatter. It's hard to look at it all- it's hard to hear anything as the cacophany burns on. Agents and clerks without resistances, bounce whispers between themselves, implanted from elsewhere, hateful and jabbing and angry,driving them away from one another- and thus away from the two other brawling abnormalities. It's not something necessary, to get the combatants who don't need to be there to safety- but it's a stretching of legs, a venting of bitter frustration, and an assertation of control. It's not as if fighting monsters is new to her, no matter how many years it's been since she could only do it like this. It's easier than breathing is, but it's hard not to suffocate under other's eyesight, f-f-flickering at the borders. Just because it's easy, doesn't mean she can keep it up. She can't even stare back, can't fight the onslought of unguarded thoughts she's certain to hear, no matter if they're unspoken. Who wouldn't feel like a monster, under gaze and weight like that? Who wouldn't agree? In these over-decorated corridors, there's no safeguard of a Temptation's presence, no assistance from her sister, to wipe this clean and away. It's awful- but it's so much worse that it's being written into experiences not earmarked for annihilation. It's worst, that part of her is glad for that.
Angela	Gebura is different from every other EGO Gear user in that her EGO is actually HER EGO. It isn't something she stole from an Abnormality. Even Rose, Carol, Nikki and Nonon--they are not magical girls, exactly, so much as they are borrowing the power of the magical girls and there isn't a single person in this facility who is as capable with their EGO As Gebura--not just because she is the most accomplished Fixer present, but because of that very reason. It's her EGO. It is always always easier to wield your own EGO than to wield someone else's. Or something else's. Vermilion tries to change the way Gebura thinks--and Gebura's mental defenses are not so strong that she can just push it out. But her psyche is still, partly, on the outside. Is that the only difference between EGO Gear and...something else? Pulling it out as a sword or armor versus making it one's skin. Gebura's expression can't be seen behind the mask but her head tilts down as cracks form across the EGO, little scars ripping open across the armor. No. Meika might realize this. It isn't armor actually. It's called EGO Armor but it's actually Gebura's SKIN. It isn't skin. It's more like a carapace forged along her body to appear as armor while actually being her body. A blood red hole opens up in her chest and red lines ripple out from it, forming a skeletal ribcage over Gebura's body. Gebura stops talking for a moment, and looks down at herself. "...What was I..." She sees those stitches, like someone had operated on her and hid it as best as they could but like anyone who gets a scar they don't recall how they received, it sticks out. It sticks out. Gebura turns her head towards a wall. They swings back their head and slam it into the wall. Again. Again. Again. Again. Over and over until the helmet that she is wearing cracks as well. It looks like it was made to hold something in. To obscure it as well. To hide... The halves of the helmet fall off, and the head turns towards Meika again. Gebura's face... There's no nose. No mouth. Just a singular red orb in the center of her face, leaking out across the rest of her face. Her hair is no longer red hair. It's a burning bright red blaze that erupts behind her like a lava flow. The regular programming resumes after. The words are that of a cold monster hunter who has learned to hate that which is not so far from what she herself is. She remembers each talon digging into her, each fang, each metal barb. She could have won. She could have won but he let them out. "Employee alteration." She says, like reciting from the manual. "How many times have you made us believe something that was not true? How many times did you ''fix'' our mind?" ''I- I don't want to...'' Gebura... doesn't/does believe her. She says something that in the moment only Meika can hear, not even picked up by the cameras. "I know. So blame me. It's my job to shoulder it. Easier if someone makes you right?"
Angela	Then the fatigue hits her. She's not even attacked, she drops down into a crouch, blade sinking into the floor. Mantaining this form isn't as easy as it used to be. She only has her brain to hold it into place. The rest is a shell that gets in the way of showing the world who she is. There is no sound as her sword slams into the throne. She doesn't have a heart to beat loudly but the sound of the nearby Agents who are, at this point, realizing something is up. She is a decidedly physical being. Meika encompasses more than just that cell. Is she happy? She hasn't been happy for a long time. And then someone sarted to trick her into being happy and it made her uncomfortable because she wasn't supposed to be happy at all. She was supposed to punish. Could Gebura still fight Vermilion? Perhaps. But she doesn't. Is she happy? She got what she sought and everyone gets to/has to experience that. Is she happy? They should hate it like it should be hated, but... In the land of the Manager's office~~~ BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ZbE5K7Fi1c The manager takes a look see through the cameras. He sees...Chevalier Vermilion! Helping out! "Oh that's nice." He says, relieved, to himself and himself and himself and himself. "...What the fuck is going on with Gebura? ... Did I miss something?" He rubs at his forehead in concern. "Agents, help Meika subdue the Abnormalities." He then leans back in his chair and thinks about how great a job he is doing. ON THE GROUND Agents are gaslit AND gatekept away from the battle between Abnormalities. There's the occassional punch thrown but most of them just pull away from each other huffily. On some levels this is the least harm Meika has done to the facility while helping out there. Nobody dies. Nothing horrifying is released (unless you count Meika herself, and the Manager sure isn't! Meika looks normal!). Sure, it's like there's no filter up, but that is also normal. For Meika! The Manager has learned not to question it so it is not a problem for today. A problem for tommorow. As the noise that goes bump in the night takes down two WAW Abnomalities, it is evident enough that this cannot be wiped away simply by altering Gebura's mind. Or the Agents' minds. Only the Manager has the filter and everyone besides him can feel the shift just fine. There is no sister to change the cameras, to mask what the eyes see. What Lobotomy Corp intends to do with what remains to be seen (A deal with a Wing is a deal with a Wing--they can't keep Meika here, and what is proof more than anything that Meika is still Meika than this?). Meika can feel thoughts. Most are not unusual. Thoughts of alarm at something being wrong, someone wondering if they are having a heart attack, someone spiraling because one of their friends toootallly said something cruel to them but two thoughts are likely to stand out in particular. One from Angela. And one for someone very close to Angela. Gebura, for a legend you are such a fool. and from Carmen... Someone whose memories cannot be altered so readily... Oh my gosh...she's so beautiful... They can't let this be buried, they can't, they can't... Why do humans always hate themselves? Why can't they learn to love themselves? Why can't they see themselves the way I do? She needs to become a Voice as soon as possible.
Meika Kirenai	There's a discerned worry, in the agents that flee the horrifying brawl, that maybe the angry, muffled silence of proximity to it isn't just from the emmenating magic, but because their eardrums might have been blown out. Distance makes it better. Time does, too- And the fight can't last that long, after all. The details may be hard to see, to hear, to watch without hands pressed over ears and eyes, but as the Agents flee, those that turn to look over their shoulders can already see everything wrapping up, f-f-flickering at the edges. There in the hallway, as everything subsides, Meika is just sitting up against the wall, knees tucked up to her chest and trembling from head to toe. It's an embarrassing resignation, sitting there and waiting to be guided back to her containment unit. It's hard not to feel like that's for the best. She's mumbling to herself- sobbing, maybe, but it's not like anyone can hear her, nor see her face clear enough past her knees, so really, what's the difference? Motionless, save for breathing, save for trembling, save for her fingertips pressing hard enough into her legs to bruise. Approaching her again-- with caution, of course, there's no excuse not to treat her with caution anymore --comes with a whispered apology, and not only that, the immediate memory revision that she's already been saying she's sorry, throughout it all. She doesn't take any guiding hands up, but doesn't dare protest whatever force is administered in ensuring she make it back to her cell, where once inside, she collapses again to a disheveled heap. {'Gebura, for a legend you are such a fool.'} She's not. I am. Cut off the parts of you that drive you to sin. She's right to have gone for the neck, isn't she, if it's all of me that does? I should have just let her kill me. Then there'd be no more waiting, no more worrying, and the world would be better with one fewer wrongness. She sniffles- with nobody around in a soundproofed cell, it doesn't matter if she can be heard or not, the reliance of outside confirmation on perception and observation make solitude both silent and deafening. {'Why do humans always hate themselves? Why can't they learn to love themselves? Why can't they see themselves the way I do?'} Carmen's overheard thoughts rattle around the magical girl's mind, echoing and distorting into a message that feels sickening more than comforting. How can you say any of this is beautiful? I know it's something to hate, and I try so hard to want to hate it all. At least now everyone here can do that for me. Throughout it all, somehow, hidden from harm somewhere on the unit's floor, her dropped cigarette still flickers with a fading but not-yet suffocated ember glow. Meika's eyes bore angry, frustrated holes into it, as seconds and minutes burn past, until her eyelids flutter closed in exhausted unconsciousness.
Angela	There is a long pause from Carmen as she seems to consider Meika's question. Because I could never hate it, no matter how hard I tried. Carmen answers. We're the same. I, too, was a preacher.