Mel pushed open the door of her house in the Lakeshore neighborhood of Oakland, California as the first light of dawn began to brighten the dark, overcast sky. After checking on the unconscious Vincent at the local hospital, calling back school staff in the area, coordinating the immediate pick-ups of a third of the children, and coordinating the hotel stays of the remaining two thirds (with staff supervision), Mel could finally conclude that everyone was okay. Sort of. The frail, short woman in her early thirties mechanically set her backpack down on the entryway table and then took off her leather booties. Attributing her lack of tiredness to the adrenaline from the past twelve hours felt like a lie. It wasn’t the past that bothered her as much as the future.

Flipping off the hallway light which her roommate and best friend had graciously left on, Mel slowly moved down the hall into the living room and plopped down on the firm modern couch. This changed everything: what she thought about supernaturals, Contractors, herself. The limits that she could reach were now unbound--assuming she could survive and succeed. Most importantly, though, Mel had tainted her real and fully normal identity by leveraging her status as a licensed psychologist in the presence of other Contractors (and the detective, but he took that with him to the grave). Neither Jason nor Rico seemed overtly malicious, but who knew what they would become--what they wanted to become--as they increased in power. 

Power. Within reason, anything could be gained according to the mysterious person who hired her. To become… anything… 

Mel shook her head and sighed. Better to focus more on what is than what could be, while still keeping the latter in mind. First and foremost, Keara could be in jeopardy from Mel’s newfound hobby by simply being associated with this new group. Supernaturals were often feared due to the power imbalance and the unknowns, while Contractors could be overpowered serial killers and terrorists... or simply scapegoats for destructive supernatural occurrences, like the sudden appearance and disappearance of Kylo Ren. 

She needed a plan. A plan to continue succeeding at these "Contracts" and become one of the powerful “good guys,” like the harbinger said. At the same time, a plan to monitor Contractors to turn in the malicious ones to ... who, the FBI? Vincent's supernatural, secret organization? The Idaho superman?

And a plan to protect Keara’s happy, normal life as much as possible.

The first step in the plan was to amass wealth so that--whether Mel closed her practice, died on a Contract, or otherwise disappeared--Keara would be able to pay the remainder of their 30-year mortgage. Mel had a decent life insurance policy, the result of her late mother’s advising, but in her mind that payout was already called for. It would go towards the welfare of Jonathan Dakkera, who was in a memory care facility and also had several physical health challenges. A clear source of wealth was to simply spend her Contract “pay” on a million dollars, like the harbinger said, but that would move Mel towards one goal, not multiple. She also had the welfare of her patients to consider; this is where warm compassion outweighed cold calculations. Thus, Mel selected her first Gift, Intensive Therapy.

Over the course of the next month, Mel almost cleared out her patient list while padding her bank account (and cash on hand). Specifically, she cured one or more Traumas of all thirty regular patients in exchange for either 2% of their last year's annual income as a lump sum in cash or 1% of their annual income in monthly payments for the next two years (received only when she billed them through her practice, since she didn’t want her death or disappearance to cause the Traumas to return). She made sure that each patient understood that a missed payment would mean they could never recieve her highly effective services again. In truth, their Trauma would suddenly, inexplicably return, but that was more than she was willing to disclose.

To avoid questions about the visible supernatural elements (and protect her clients' minds from being shaken), Mel simply framed her new technique as a breakthrough hypnotherapy. Thus, all clients were asked to close their eyes during the therapy session. With her eyes open, Mel could monitor if anyone peeked and was shocked by what they saw. But even if they did, protecting her identity didn't matter so much now that it was already tainted and would continue to be for as long as she accepted these new jobs. In addition, Mel encouraged her patients to make referrals (earning them a discount) to help replenish her now dwindling patient base.

Beyond that, Mel prepared for her next Contract. While being in full makeup and business attire worked well for the past job, reviewing the news on supernatural activites that could be related to Contractor activities implied that the work wouldn’t always be so clean cut. And getting hired as she was commuting home meant that advanced notice should not be expected. To that end, Mel adjusted what she carried with her at all times and created two “Contract bags”--one for home and one for work. All the while, she made the purchases using Rico’s burn phone (she owed him several hundred dollars for it but couldn't pay him back due to not having his real phone number), VPNs, Visa gift cards, and P.O. boxes to avoid obvious traces of her unusual activities. Mel also picked up a stack of books on mythology, rituals, and magic. Although she couldn't discern between fact and fiction, her last job proved that this kind of information could be helpful in the future.

Mel again turned off the hallway light. Abandoning her shoes and luggage in the hallway, she moved to the kitchen and quickly prepared dinner using a reusable water bottle and a meal replacement packet containing dark green powder. The tea in that Johannesburg cafe hadn't settle well in her stomach--but then again, most things didn't. The microwave read 2:30 AM as she absentmindedly stirred her drink. Unusually late for Mel to come home, especially when she went on a sudden trip of unknown length to a location she didn't want to disclose. She could have taken a different flight than the soonest one to SFO to return at a more reasonable hour, but she wanted to get out as soon as possible, back to a familiar culture, back to higher safety, and away from her … “co-workers.”

Unlike the first job which involved doing some good, this one was simply a test. Their employer implied that the murder was both inevitable and known. From this she concluded that sometimes the tasks would be meaningful, and other times they would simply entertain someone powerful being's whims. Mel sipped the bitter, comforting drink in the brightly lit modern kitchen. Frankly, she was fine with either given the rewards, so long as she could avoid directly harming anyone or herself. Jason and Mr. Serna had showed up to the cafe injured, but based on Mel’s past experience with Jason and the situation, she expected that. Besides, they knew what they were getting themselves into. She hoped.

"Mel?" A tall woman with messy blonde hair wearing only an oversized t-shirt sat up from laying on the couch. Then her housemate and best friend, Keara, yawned. "You okay?" 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Keara simply stared at her in response, head resting on crossed arms atop the couch. After a long pause, she concluded with, “Okay. ‘Night.”

“Night.”

Mel sighed as Keara’s bedroom door softly shut. Alone once more. While there was no pressure to share, Keara definitely wanted to know what was going on. Ignorance could protect her best friend, but knowing too little could cause stress. Was that choice for Mel to make or for Keara to make? She yawned before downing the last of her drink. That didn't have to be decided tonight, but it couldn't be put off forever.

Wealth bought convenience, comfort, and influence--and it almost bought protection, only furthering Mel’s resolve to quickly accumulate it. 

Over the course of the next month, Mel worked through a second round of patients, the ones that were referred to her from her original long-time patients. Business was booming since many of her original patients referred multiple people. While the referral discount remained, now Mel no longer treated additional Traumas for free. Instant and complete treatment for a mental health issue was the convenient magic pill that many had been looking for. The price was high, but in the Bay Area 1-2% of a person’s annual income seemed to be expendable--and longer treatment with questionable results was also expensive when totalled up. Disguising the treatment as hypnotherapy generally kept her first and only supernatural Gift hidden. However, by now several people had peeked and then panicked at the sight of the silver ethereal halo around Mel’s head. In an effort to do no harm to them or herself, Mel treated their shock and “hallucinations” as a normal part of the hypnotherapy process. It was a fine line for a mental health healer, denying their accurate perceptions of reality. Most patients seemed to buy it and proceeded with treatment, but some clearly didn’t. Either way, those were the days when Mel came home visibly worried, even feeling a little paranoid about the further tainting of her identity and Keara’s normal life. Did they really believe her over themselves? Would they tell others about their experiences, and would anyone believe them? Would they develop an interest in her as a ‘super’--one of them? By the end of the month, Mel switched the sessions to being entirely remote. Working from home helped settle her; it also accommodated her expanding client base and allowed her to turn off her camera during the session, removing all risk of being revealed (so long as the blinds were closed and Keara wasn't home). Nevertheless, the habits developed from a month of being highly alert to her surroundings seemed to stick, whether she was going grocery shopping or simply looking out the livingroom window.

Mel met four Contractors so far: a charming ex-military man who was uncomfortable around the police, a self-proclaimed monster hunter who had overt mental health challenges, a man who seemed to be made of candy (given the intense smell and the crack in his face from that punch), and that other one. She wasn’t sure what Rico’s gig was. They all seemed fine enough, but she knew them superficially. What did they want out of these jobs? What would the power help them accomplish? Would they use it to make the world a better or worse place? And, if the latter, what would she do about it?

Mel, for one, wanted to heal minds--and so she was. One Trauma healed per day was technically breakneck speed in the mental health field, and she was accumulating wealth just as fast. At some point she would have a sufficient cash flow and switch her client base, maybe to children if she could speed up the process (expecting kids to keep their eyes shut for a total of 8 hours was foolish). And the Contractors needed to be monitored. Who better to do that than an insider? That meant going on more jobs, subtly gathering as much information on each one as she could, and then staying casually in touch afterwards. However, each Contract attended also increased the risk of impacting her and Keara's regular lives. One way or another, all three jobs involved Mel providing her full name for others to record. Even if she stopped now, a thorough investigation into her activites--her online activities, locations based on burn phone use, and purchases--would warrant suspition. Coincidence could not explain being at the wrong place at the wrong time so consistently (in fact, she just narrowly avoided pegging herself as a terrorist and mass murderer). There was no going back now… but what did it mean to go forward? Mel wanted to clear her name, mostly to protect Keara and, if she was being fully honest, for her own inner peace. Maybe an alias? But she wasn't sure how to set that up enough to be believable, and she’d also need a consistent, comprehensive disguise (more than that clothing swap that Abbas employed). Maybe a supernatural transformation into a different thing? If vampires existed, then so could werewolves--or were-anythings. But then there was the risk of being paired up with monster hunters like Abbas, and, in both situations, if others saw her change from one thing to the other she'd be back to square one.

Mel closed the survival book in her hands, giving up. Her brain was going in too many circles to learn how to be alert in every situation--so much that she wasn't even being perceptive in that moment. She tucked it into her small designer backpack and stood up from the ornate park bench, immediately remembering how sore her legs were. Training for the half-marathon was much more inspiring when one imagined running for their life from a bloodthirsty, supernatural monster. Even if it was foolish (it's not like she could outrun the last job's dangers), building up her speed and stamina through running provided a sense of control over her life--and it also helped with stress management. 

Take a deep breath. In doing so, she indulged in her most recent Gift. Freshly cut grass. Tree bark and asphalt. The distinct hum of insects in the bushes. Something else. Turning around, Mel quickly found the source: a fluffy shiba inu! Bubbly excitement washed away all other thoughts as Mel walked across the manicured lawn to the dog and elderly owner.

Maybe I should adopt another dog... 

A tall woman with platinum blonde hair in a near-perfect bun and workout clothes seared bacon wrapped scallops to the beat of loud techno music which competed with the stovetop vent. As she moved from that to rustling the long stalks on gai lan in the nonstick pan, Mel set a makeup mirror on the counter. Then she took a seat on a barstool and turned down the bluetooth speaker.

Looking clearly uncomfortable, Mel finally asked, “So, do you want to know?”

Keara turned down the heat on the vegetables and then leaned on the counter, looking back at her roommate and best friend. “Sure as hell I do! The last time you took this long to tell me something, your committee chair was sexually harassing you--which I already knew about, by the way.”

Mel sighed. “Look, the reason why I’ve been putting it off is because the more you know, the more you could be affected by it…”

Keara’s brows furrowed and her smile disappeared. “I’m already being affected by it, Mel.”

“I know, I know,” Mel replied quickly, hands raised in defense. “I meant more affected.”

“Alright…” Keara seemed exaggeratedly pensive for a moment before glancing back at the scallops. “Yep, I still want to know.”

Mel sighed. “Okay. Let’s start at the beginning, okay? Let's start with you telling me about that time when you were four years old and you got bit by a spider.”

“You know the story--and I don’t see how it’s relevant,” Keara replied as she used tongs to transfer the scallops from pan to plate.

“Trust me.”

With that, Keara began to share the story of how she developed a phobia of spiders. A very faint, ethereal, jagged halo of silver immediately appeared around Mel’s head--something like the paintings and mosaics in Catholic cathedrals--but Keara was too busy talking and cooking to notice. At the same time, a very transparent, ethereal, jagged halo of black appeared around Keara’s head.

“Keara…” Mel gently interrupted, holding up her friend’s circle makeup mirror at just the right angle.

“What?" Keara replied impatiently before turning around. "I thought you wanted me to--what the fuck is that?!"

The Bill

At some point when Jason and Mel are recharging in their "campsite" of sleeping bags, a battery-powered lanturn, and a pile of snacks and toys in a haunted hallway, when Violet has already fallen asleep, Mel will ask Jason what he would charge a regular client for 24-hour bodyguard services.

“Depends on the details. Probably a few grand minimum.”

"Per what? Day?” She pauses. "No known enemies."

"Yep, think I put my life on the line for a couple bucks? If they don't have enemies then why would they need a bodyguard?" 

Mel chuckles. "How about this--high kidnapping risk?"

"Kidnapping attempts can get messy. Why are you asking?" 

"Just give me an estimate." She's grinning.

"If it's for Violet I'd do it for free." He looks suspicious.

"Damn, you're stubborn!" Mel declares with amusement. "Okay, you win. How much would you charge to watch over a medium short-haired dog that certain supernatural people--mostly allies but not exclusively--would know can instantly heal their body and mind? ... I'd help you pick up chicks too--they love dogs..." she muses, still smiling and now looking rather mischievous.

"That's true, they do love dogs..." Jason sarcastically ponders with a grin. "I wouldn't charge you, maybe just expenses, but I am NOT giving you a bath!" He starts laughing.

Mel's eyes widen for a brief moment and then she smacks him on the arm in revenge for even having the thought as she laughs too. Violet stirs at their interaction, causing Mel to control herself and wipe away a joyous tear. "You wouldn't clean up my shit either--I'd be the damn best dog you'd ever have--even split the rent!" Then a sigh. "If we get out of here, it's a deal."

"We could get you a dog walker." Still grinning but the amusement seems to be quickly fading. "Deal." He looks over at sleeping Violet. "You should sleep too. I'll keep the Boogie Men away."

Mel looks over at Violet too for a moment. "Really, I should start paying you now..." she says mostly to herself as she rolls away from her protector with a yawn, following his command. 

"Wait till you see the bill." He smiles again as he heads out to make his rounds. 

---

Phone Calls

Each day in the crypt or their apartment for 30 minutes to an hour, Mel sits straight up, back against a decrepit wall, taking deep breaths as though she's in meditation. Her gaze is off in the distance or her eyes are shut until Violet shows her something she drew or asks her what this thing is in the picture book. Mel's response is delayed by a few seconds, and then she briefly showers Violet with loving, patient attention before encouraging her to show "Daddy" and then returning to her previous state.

These are her phone calls.

---

The Further You Go

Bu Fang receives a phone call. The contact shown is simply "Mark Collins' Friend" with the image of a paw print.

Bu Fang picks up the phone. "Chef bu Fang on the line. What would you like to order?" Over the phone you hear metal clanking, sizzling, even some talking.

"Mr. bu Fang, I'd like to call you back when you're a bit less busy. I'm a friend of Mark's and I'm seeking... supernaturally capable people who might be interested in trading services with me or simply lending a hand. When might be a good time to chat?" 

You hear a soft chuckle as all the noise goes dead silent and his voice changes to more of a soft younger voice, perhaps about late 20s early 30? "You may call me Chef Fang. Anyways, right now is fine, no one is here. What do you require?"

"Oh! Well, even if people were there, they wouldn't hear this conversation. The call is confidential, not using your actual phone service, and no one else can perceive it. I didn't want to inconvenience you--but thanks for making the time… Chef Fang, I haven't been in this... line of business for very long. Not compared to Mark, I mean. But I've survived long enough to gain a decent amount of wealth, enhance my ability to heal the human mind from traumas, and several other tricks that cannot be explained. If I continue to survive, my intention is to be a supernatural healer of the body and mind--undercover, of course, to avoid the associated social issues.

Recently a job went sideways and now I'm seeking a list of services. This includes restoring a friend's maimed hand and seeking the knowledge of an Occult expert to make a curse more manageable or break it entirely. Those things are for my benefit. 

Separately, I have rescued a neglected, abused toddler from a powerful demon. The child has no memories of life before the demon got her. As a result, I'm hoping to find a skilled hacker or savvy politician in order to fake her identity and records so that she is legally my child--and also an expert investigator to discover the child's true family and past. Plus, we have no idea if the demon will come looking for her, so maybe a trustworthy powerful person to keep her with--which sadly is not me--I would die for her but I'm not strong enough for my death to make a difference in her safety. So a person or a place to keep her safe in the long term."

Some silence is heard over the phone "... Well, I see, I see... hmmm hahaha! What are you willing to pay? I may be able to provide something in terms of your friend's maimed hand. As for the rest, I certainly do have the connections to assist in those, though I will need much more information, such as who this demon is or what it is, where did you find her and what nots. Information on the curse as well."

"Really?" Her tone is excited. "What could I give you in exchange for my friend's healing?"

"How about ... a favor? It’s simple--you just owe me one that I can redeem sometime in the future."

"Of course!" A long pause. Her tone becomes serious. "Even if I die from this curse or something else, I can still heal your mind--you will be repaid."

"Ahaha! Do not worry, I work with the mind myself," You can hear a chuckle akin to a senior hearing their junior tell them they can do what the senior is doing.

"Oh! ..." Mel is now baffled as to what she could offer this man. But Mark said he was one of the good ones, so the blank check didn't make her too nervous. "My name is Dr. Melanie Dakkera. I'm a psychologist in the Bay Area, California." She sounds nervous.

"Heh, how about that? Come on down to my restaurant sometime, I'm a chef in the Bay Area, Cali, as well. (INSERT ADDRESS HERE), it’s Golden Mist. Anyways, I’ll have someone deliver something to you. Where do you want to meet them?"

"Oh! I... uh… I'll definitely visit your restaurant! But at the moment I'm tied to a location in Detroit... my apartment is (ADDRESS), and please stay clear of the Motown Museum nearby--I don't want you to die." 

"That's quite some underestimation right there, but, of course, you'll be receiving a delivery within the next week then."

"I..." She didn't mean to sound rude, but wasn't sure how to save it. "Thank you.”

“Now, about the curse... My friend and I are tied to a Crypt location, which is--" Not wanting to assume the chef had no idea, Mel changed the angle, “--which we soon discovered is one of several locations on Earth where people disappear. It's basically a dangerous, haunted location in another dimension that has a portal connected to Earth. A Crypt stores some aspect of the missing people--such as a monstrous version of themselves--and also a more powerful dangerous creature of some kind. The only two other locations that we suspect are Crypts are in Boston and Northern New York. We're still in the process of exploring the Crypt we're tied to--tied meaning if we are outside of it for too long, we begin to die from supernatural side effects. But it's difficult to explore because... one section has like 50 decently strong monsters in it which we easily can't get past. But exploring may help us understand the nature of the curse and how to either manage or break it, as will (I'm hoping) a discussion with an Occult expert if you happen to know of one."

"Oh, yikes, don't go to the Boston one, that one is deadly even to even the older members. Lost two close friends in that one. Mark and I barely made it out. I can check in with an occult expert if you're exploring THE crypt. But be warned, being tied there is one of the merciful things they can do..."

"Merciful? 'They' who?"

"We call them crypt keepers--monstrous humanoids, elongated features, able to speak into your mind. They know, they plan, they think, they retain sanity, protecting the crypt treasures and punishing trespassers. Mark lost his arms and combative capability, I lost my Qi and usage of a knife to them. We managed to retrieve it, but they are deadly creatures"

"... So there is someone we need to meet here--someone we should apologize to for trespassing and possibly even thank?" Mel seems lost.

"No. Run if you see them, never interact with them. They only love the crypt. They will keep you and turn you into one of them if you meet them and don't negotiate your way out. They are akin to devils, contracts and deals are their favorite, to test those that come and see what you're willing to give to survive. That includes what we earn from these ‘Contracts’."

"I mean... we... can't leave." And now she sounds overwhelmed.

"Of course, but be weary is all. If you're already tied to it, I can assume they won't harass you due to you belonging to the Crypt."

"... Thank you for the information, Chef Fang. I really appreciate it, and I'm sorry for your loss. I nearly died here as well--which isn't saying much--as did my friend. We are thankful to be alive. Do you happen to know if we're tied to the Crypt as a whole or this specific Crypt--or is that a question for your occult expert? I ask because I want to know if I can avoid death via the curse by entering any Crypt to 'recharge' or only my specific one--it's essentially a mobility issue as I cannot expect all future jobs to take place in Detroit nor take less than 24 hours." 

"My understanding of the Crypt is that you would be tied to the Crypt as a whole, as they are interlocked between each other, akin to tunnels within the veil of our dimension. if you find other crypts, you should be able to navigate amongst them. Of course, I shall consult said expert and shall send a message if I learn of anything new." 

"Thank you. You can reach me at (PHONE NUMBER). I won't pick up though; I'll call you back on a more private line--although the return call may be delayed because the Crypt has no cell service. And Mark already gave me yours. 

Aside from the curse... we also pissed off a demon. In short, I can confirm that my crypt is tied to different locations, each which house a powerful monster. This is what we've called the Hall of Doors. We tried opening the doors and tossing GPS devices in to determine more crypt locations, but it didn't work. In the process, we opened a door and discovered an abandoned and neglected three-year-old girl that a possessive demon was keeping alive and feeding off of. I grabbed her and we shut the door, cutting off the connection. Violet is in our care now. Now I'm seeking out several trustworthy people: a medical doctor who could evaluate her current health and possibly identify magical illnesses or markings, a hacker who could fake her identity and adoption paperwork, a private investigator to investigate her origins and parents, someone knowledgeable on demons... and a person or place to keep Violet safe in case her captor comes looking for her. Of course, we'll do all we can to protect her ourselves, but I'm not sure if that's going to be enough... I know that's a long list--but any referral would mean the world to me, as she is now my... my ward and my daughter now until further notice." Mel will suddenly chuckle. "Cursed, a pissed off demon, and now a parent--and I've only been in this for six months!" 

"Hmmm, I'll see what I can help with. Sidenote, expect more than one. It'll happen the further you go, heh. Good day then."

As Chef Fang hung up, Mel wondered which she should be expecting more than one of: curse, demon, or child.

--- 

A Delivery

After a week, at Mel's apartment in Detroit, you will get some knocking followed by a doorbell ring. 

A sweet toddler with pale skin and stark red eyes wearing a red princess outfit opens the doors almost immediately, in parallel with a woman's command coming from deeper within: "Don't answer the--Violet!" 

At the door is a Chinese guy, looking approximately in his mid 20's, he is in fully casual clothing with just a box in hand saying "Hey there, i have a delivery for your mom?"

The young girl looks up at the visitor with unprecedented amazement, wide-eyed. "Hi," is all she can muster. 

A thin, short half-Asian/ half-white woman in her thirties rushes around the corner into the hallway and then relaxes when she sees the visitor. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and she's wearing a blouse, fashionable jeans, and an apron that clearly has some tomato sauce on it. She looks like she hasn't slept in days and appears severely dehydrated. Mel approaches the visitor at the door. "Delivery from who?"

"Uhhh, Chef Fang?"

"Great!" Mel receives the package as Violet asks, "Is that a present?"

"Yes, honey, it's a present for Jason. Turning back to her guest, "Would you like to come in?" 

"Nono, I will have to go right after this--I'm paid by the job, haha." He will hand you the box and quickly after a bow walk off. When you pick up the box, you'll notice it has quite a bit of weight to it.

Mel nods as he bows and adds with a smile, "Thank you. Please pass my gratitude on to Chef Fang!" Taking the heavy package, she sets it down on the kitchen counter. Violet stays close by, eager to see what's inside.

"Jason!" Mel calls. It's a cozy enough apartment where one doesn't have to be very loud to be heard. After all, she had selected it with two people in mind, not three. She waits a moment before giving into Violet's quiet yet bubbling excitement and opens the package, carefully cutting the lines of tape using a kitchen knife.

There are 4 items in the box: t3 to-go boxes of food and 1 pill. Opening the box aead fragrance that seems to envelop the room, causing even someone with an eating disorder to practically drool. The pill has a note attached to it.

Within the to-go box upon taking it out, are what at first may appear like basic food, yet they seem to have been taken and cooked to the pinnacle. The first box is a box of Egg fried rice with some shrimp. The egg coating the fried rice with about 90% consistency, giving off the rice almost like a golden glow, the shrimp are peeled and cooked in a way that you can tell is fully cooked while allowing some bounciness, the vein removed cleanly without a single trace of any of those dark strands of shrimp poop. The green onions are spread softly amongst the top of the rice giving this refreshing smell and look onto the golden landscape of the simple fried rice, it doesn't look greasy either! In the second box is what appears to be meat, char siu pork it seems, glistening with only a hint of grease, doesn't even seem sickeningly fat at all, Some Beef slices that seem like they would practically melt in your mouth. A crispy, slice of roast duck that almost feels like you're biting into a piece of chip, yet it isn't hard, only amazingly crispy, soft underneath, cooked to perfection and more? Some squid slices and fish as well, practically begging for you to eat it. A box of meat and seafood that would practically draw in any living being. In the final box are stir fried and boiled vegetables, broccoli, bok choy, Green peppers, peas, carrot, kelp, kale, and so much more vegetables. Seasoned in different ways, it appears as if they were cooked with the intention of giving 100% nutritional need while also remaining excruciatingly tasty. Never liked vegetables? Well then it's time to question your life, as these are cooked in a way that even children who despise vegetables will constantly beg you for them again. Some soft tofu at the side with 3 sauce cups? 1 is labeled sweet, 1 is labeled savory, and the last is labeled spicy.

The note appears to explain the pill usage, "The pill may react with the body in a special manner and instead of consuming the pill, the pill will force itself out of your mouth. The consumer will feel their scar rearranging itself, and it is very visible as it heals. Cooked using starfish as a base, this will stimulate your cells to regenerate at an accelerated manner. Be warned: by the end of it, you will feel exhausted for an hour or two since it is upping your metabolism."

Jason would appear around the corner. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week (which he probably hasn't). "Something smells good." He looks at Violet and says in a whispered tone (pretending Mel can't hear him) with a wink. "Obviously Mommy isn't cooking."

Violet giggles and glances not so slyly over at Mel, who is glaring at Jason before turning off the now bubbling pasta sauce and boiling water.

"Check out the note, dear." With sarcastic emphasis as she puts away the uncooked pasta.

Jason shares the giggle. "I think I made her mad." 

The little girl giggles more. A week ago she had to be taught that they were just joking--and what joking meant. But she's made much progress on social interactions with Mel's help and Jason's ... shenanigans.

"Sorry, honey," Jason yells into the kitchen in the same snarky tone. He winks at Violet again. Looking at Violet and the food. "What do you want to try first?" he asks while he looks over the note.

Violet points to the variety of greens because it's the most recognizable: "Weeds!"

Under his breath Jason mutters, "Weeds might taste better," greens not being a favorite of his. He'll serve up some greens and some rice on a plate. He points to the rice and with mock shock. "Those are maggots!" To which Violet squeals with excitement and picks up a handful from her plate with her bare hands (she's still working on the use of utensils). A few seconds later, with a very full mouth, "M-mggts..." Now the child seems a bit confused. 

Upon eating the fried rice, Violet will experience a soft fluffy texture of a perfect fried rice, having a rich egg flavor with a soft taste of sea salt. The rice covers her taste bud and gives her quite an experience. The child immediately calms down, stunned by the multifaceted and profound experiences of her tastebuds. She's still mildly confused. 

Mel, ignoring all of this as she finishes cleaning up the kitchen from what would have been a very sad dinner, instructs her roommate and friend, "The pill is for you. Take it."

Jason will read the instructions and, thinking better of it, will take the pill to the bathroom. Before getting up, he looks at Violet. "It's rice sweety, it's good for you." An explanation which the child ignores as she takes another handful of the fried rice and shoves it into her mouth, slower this time, savoring it.

He goes to the bathroom and takes the pill, and then spits it up again, catching it before it falls into the sink. Jason immediately starts to feel his hand getting somewhat itchy, almost like worms are wriggling. The pill tasted quite nice; he would love to eat it again at some point. Nevertheless, after, when he looks at his lost hand, it's slowly growing--albeit at a visible rate that is kinda disturbing to normal humans.

Mel pokes her head into the small bathroom and sees the pill in Jason's (only) hand still. "Don't trust me--or don't trust the guy I exchanged an unknown favor with for that?" she asks softly. 

"Oh, I took it. It just came back up." He says with a grimace and raises his "missing" hand.

"Oh!" Mel glances down at his stub and then rummages in a bathroom drawer for a small container--usually for storing a liquid soap but this one is empty. "Great--let's save it! ... How's it feel?" 

"Very... weird."

"Guess he's legit then." She sighs with relief.

"Maybe I'll be better at the guitar now," he says with a grin and a wink.

"Mhm, your playing really is the best defense," Mel replied with an amused grin before walking away to keep an eye on the child. 

"Love you too!" Jason yells behind her in the same mocking tone as before. He grabs a hand towel to cover his stump before leaving the bathroom. When he gets to the other room he's actually looking serious for once. "Thanks Mel." Not letting it get too serious, he quickly starts grinning again. "Now this food isn't going to eat itself. Let's eat!"

Mel nods with an equally serious expression. "Glad to be alive," she says quietly before following Jason's switch. "That's duck, honey, and it's really yummy!" 

Violet's eyes widen as she swallows a really big half-chewed bite. "What's duck?"

---

Assistance to the Knights

Kevin Sparkles receives a phone call. The contact shown is simply "Mark Collins' Friend" with the image of a paw print.

Kevin would answer. “Howdy, Mark’s friend?”

A soft woman's voice with a West Coast accent. "Hello Kevin, thank you for picking up. I'm a friend of Mark's, and I'm seeking... supernaturally capable people who might be interested in trading services with me or simply lending a hand if they feel the cause is important. Are you busy at the moment? Should I call back later?"

Kevin will look at the pony he is drawing and will save it. “I am not currently busy. but it’s not very friendly to talk behind your friend's back. May I ask who is calling?”

A long pause. "My name is Dr. Melanie Dakkera. I'm a psychologist with a private practice in the Bay Area, California--called Mind Thrive." (All of this can be Googled. She has a well-designed website and a list of client comments there and a resume on LinkedIn. Graduated from UC Berkeley. Lots of volunteering with training puppies to be dogs for the blind and deaf. Google Maps reviews are very positive, with some claiming she helped them overcome mental health issues in mere weeks.)

“What exactly did Mark tell you?”

"I asked him if he knew anyone who was highly trustworthy and highly connected, because I'm looking for very specific types of help and I don't take disclosing my identity lightly. And he said you were one of the good guys and might know a lot of capable, decent people.” Another pause. “And you're a member of the Knights of Equestria."

“I, in fact, am all of those. How could you be of assistance to the knights I guess is the best way to ask, mind you we are always looking for new friends.”

"At the moment, I have a decent amount of wealth, and I can rapidly heal the mind of traumas. In the future, I intend on being a healer of the body as well as the mind--of wounds and dismemberment and diseases. Aside from that... I suppose I could screen new recruits? As Mark said, some people seem nice but can end up being horrible. As an experienced psychologist, I'd be happy to do psych evaluations with potential members to make sure the reputation of the Knights of Equestria remains upstanding and the values are upheld. Psych evaluations identify a person's motives, personality, mental health challenges, strength of will, and likes and dislikes--and so long as it's done in-person I'm very good at determining if they're lying..." By the tone in her voice, she's clearly becoming unsure of whether the assistance she could offer is desired. 

During this monologue, Simba the Maine Coon decides to sit on your computer desk and keyboard, also covering a good portion (if not all) of the screen, and act like he has no idea that he's in anyone's way. 

Kevin will pick the Maine coon up with one hand and will scratch under its chin, listening before speaking. “You don’t always get to choose who your friends are, like the one we no longer talk about, the one Knight who fell to the taste of blood on his blade. However, having a doctor on board would certainly be wonderful. What do you want in return? Are you wanting to join the Knights?”

"Uh... what specifically does that entail?"

“It would be best if you watched My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic to really see where our values lie. We help our friends, whoever that is in accomplishing whatever goals they have. Simply if a friend of the knights or the knights ask for help, you do so to the best of your abilities. There are many friends across the globe.”

"Hm... to be honest, making my identity and supernatural abilities known to an international network of knights that are Mark Collin's friend's friends ... it all sounds a bit intimidating--especially when becoming a friend seems to be pretty easy and being a poor friend or even an enemy is also an option. Put another way, I consider myself to be a good friend. I have a couple of friends that I would be willing to die for--and one of them I almost did--and living for one's friends can sometimes be even harder. But how do you know that I, a random person who just now magically called you, would make a good friend to you and to your friends?" 

“You asked what being a Knight entails, and nobody knows who all the Knights are. Becoming a friend is easy; becoming one of the Knights you have to be chosen or prove your worth. You seem to have been sent by a friend and, frankly, if you were a bad friend well … bad friends sometimes need some tough love, and that’s ok.”

"In that case, I'm willing to be a friend to the Knights, and I'm open to becoming a Knight as well--should there be an opportunity and an opening. For now though, let's start as friends. Simply tell me about anyone you consider a friend who is in need of (and willing to pursue) mental healing, and I will reach out to them and heal them. When my services expand, so will my offer to help."

“There is one of use could us that right now--he believes he is The Mothman and that creates tons of issues. He, uh, goes by Mothman. When it comes to ‘willing to pursue’ maybe you can convince them. But he is hard to track down, so I will let you know.” 

"Does he use modern technology, like a phone or laptop? And do you think he might suffer from paranoia?" 

“He might have one still, and he is definitely paranoid.”

"Well, I can probably contact him then, even without his real name, but the paranoia will likely prevent him from wanting to pick up and talk to me... So I think you and your friends tracking him down will be the more effective approach. My phone number is (NUMBER). I won't pick up though; I'll just call you back on a more private line once you try to reach me. And Mark already gave me yours. Anyone else come to mind as needing mental health services?"

“I do also have a daughter that could use some therapy; however she is a special case. Very precious to the Knights and their friends--the next generation. I would want to thoroughly vet anyone like, well, us who would interact with her.”

"Yes, of course--that's understandable. I have a young daughter as well, and I feel the same way. I'm open to participating in the vetting process. Perhaps you and I could meet in person, or you know someone who could do an extensive background check? Or I can provide healing to your Mothman friend as evidence of my abilities and good intentions. My mundane clients don't know I'm supernatural though, so I'd prefer you not chat about that with them--though they can vouch for my effectiveness. Just let me know what sounds good to you."

“Just tell me how you do with Mothman, and, honestly, if you're a bad friend I would deal with that by talking to Mark, so let me know what you need to do for therapy.”

"Okay. I just need to talk with the patient in-person about the thing they're struggling with for 8 hours total--so eight one-hour sessions or one intense day. We'd talk about when and how they believe it came about, how it has impacted them, how they understand it--things like that. I normally have my patients close their eyes so that they can't see the halos--I don't want to scare them--but with your friends and family I don't think that will be necessary."

“We will have to do supervised visits obviously. But we can schedule them soon.”

"Yes, supervised is fine. And I don't recommend a full 8-hour session for minors, assuming she is one." A long pause. "Where are you located?"

“The Chicago Suburbs”

"So, there's a slight logistical challenge. I will die if I'm outside of Detroit for too long. I also am caring for a 3-year-old who has a lot of needs. Two solutions come to mind: you and your daughter spend a week in Detroit where we do private sessions in your hotel room or my apartment or I send my twin to your area--who has exactly the same mental healing power as I do."

"You will what?”

A long pause. "Sorry, I'm not sure which part of that you'd like me to explain more."

“I think you do, but I guess it’s not something you need help for. We can work that out. How does next weekend sound?”

"Kevin, I reached out to help you... and for your help."

“Ah, my apologies." You’ll hear My Little Pony be turned down. “I apologize. How can we help?”

"... The biggest issue is that I stole an abused child from a demon that was keeping her alive just to feed off of her. I'm looking for someone who can make a fake identity and adoption papers so that I can legally care for her until I find her real parents. I also need a private investigator who can help me with that. And maybe an Occult specialist to help me figure out who the demon was and how to break its hold on her. And maybe a person or place where I can keep her safe, because I'm not sure if the demon will come looking for her--because I'm confident we can't take it down on our own."

“Sure I know a few guys who can help with most of that actually.”

"Who?" Mel sounds hopeful.

“I have a buddy named Bu Fang who could probably set up the identity. I know a good hacker who can help you potentially find them. The safe place, I mean, that’s a bit more difficult. As for the demon, I don’t know any occult specialist.”

"Thank you so much! I'm already in touch with Chef Fang--Mark spoke highly of him as well. And please pass my name and number on to the hacker: Dr. Melanie Dakkera, (PHONE NUMBER). Sometimes I'm in a deadzone, but I'll try to get back to them as soon as I can. Aside from the issues involving my daughter, I'm cursed--nothing that controls my mind or anything like that--I'm just tied to a haunted, dangerous location... do you happen to know anything about the Crypt?"

---

“No prob-lemss.”

If Mothman has a cell phone or personal computer or pager or any other electronic device that facilitates communication, it's going to ring. The caller is "Kevin Sparkle's Friend," and it somehow shows a profile picture of a My Little Pony character.

"Hello?" a weak, shy, raspy sounding voice answers.

"Mothman?" A gentle woman's voice, West Coast accent.

"Mmhm," he replies almost like a grunt. Mel hears a decently loud intermittent humming/clicking, like something that clicks on and off intermittently and hums while it's on.

"I'm a new ally of the Knights of Equestria. My name is Mel, and this is a totally private and confidential conversation. It cannot be recorded in any way, and others around you don't hear anything you say. Your phone isn't even registering this as a real call. This is one of my supernatural powers, and I encourage you to test it out--so that you'll know I'm one of you--someone who goes on missions once a month. Do you want to test it?"

He mumbles "kev-in" during a long pause, and then finally replies, "K. Not worried."

"Okay. When I told Kevin that I have the ability to rapidly heal the mind and asked if there was anyone he knew of that might benefit from this, he mentioned you might be interested. My services cost nothing because you're a Knight, and they are fast and painless. I can support you with overcoming most anything, including fears and obsessions. Is this something you might be interested in?"

"Thanksss... But good. No prob-lemss. No doctor."

"Okay! That's totally fine. Oh, also Kevin wants to see you in one week at his place in Chicago. He wasn't sure how to get a hold of you, so I said I would pass the message along."

"Wher ... She car go?"

"Oh! Um..." The woman was clearly not expecting this. "Maybe it would be easier if Kevin visited you? Where are you right now?"

"Hmm." Another long pause. "Forest."

"Great! Which one?"

"Hmmmm." You know that sound kids make when you ask them something, and they shrug? Like the Uh-I-uh sound? That's what he does. He doesn't sound like a kid though; he sounds like a 30-year-old with a slightly numb mouth.

"Okay... are you really far away from people--like you haven't seen people in a few days? Yes or no?"

"I've seen people," he says almost defensively but doesn't elaborate.

"Okay..." The woman sighs. "Are you lost or are you hiding?" She asks gently.

"Not lost--lost is where you don't want to be. I like it up here." You hear wind now too.

"I'm glad. Kevin misses you but it doesn't sound like he can visit you. There are a lot of forests out there, so he won't know which one to go to."

"I know Kevin... Money to get to... Kevin?"

The woman is clearly smiling. "I want to give you money to visit Kevin in Chicago. How can I do that?"

"Mail?"

"Do you have an address?"

"Uh I uh... Oh!" You hear footsteps running on metal. He drops the phone. He comes back after a moment, and you hear him pick back up. "I did find numbers."

"Can you take the phone to the numbers and then tell them to me?" She sounds very patient.

"AT&T Cell Tower 7139-yt 15500Kw No Trespassing Danger In Accordance with FCC code 47 CFR § 1.1314(d)."

"Wow, okay! That's great. Um... mail takes some time. Will you be there for a day or two?"

"Maybe. I go see Kevin."

"Right, but you have to stay there to get the money in the mail--the money to go see Kevin." Mel pauses. "Okay, now you tell me: why do you have to stay there for a day or two?"

"Letter." Then he adds, "Mail."

"Right! Letter with money. Perfect. Stay there when it gets dark--nighttime--twice. Two nights. And then you'll get the mail. Got it?"

"Yes, though night not dark for me. Don't like dark."

"Okay, well I'm glad you have lots of light then. But other places will be dark, like the sky."

"Yes night time."

"Stay safe. I'll send the money right away." The call hangs up.

---

The Metal Cylinder

On the couch in the living room of the cozy apartment, Violet plucks a string on Jason's guitar. He uses his good hand to alter the fading note, amazing and amusing the young girl. Each thrum is followed by a giggle and brief silence as she selects her next string. Mel, wearing the attire that Jason has regularly seen her wear on their past missions (including gloves, booties, a scarf, and a long waterproof jacket all in various shades of grey and black) briskly walks out of her bedroom and grabs her pre-packed waterproof designer backpack out of a cubby in a (mostly empty) bookshelf in the living room. Then she proceeds to pull a fabric cube drawer out, located on a higher shelf for safety reasons, and retrieve her handgun and mag.

"Something you want to tell me?" He asks from the couch. "That doesn't look like 'I'm running to the store' attire."

"Mhm," Mel replies as she pops the mag in and double checks that the safety is on, being careful to point it towards the ground. Jason has been a good teacher. She moves to the couch where they are and then leans on it from behind, backpack in tow, expression serious. "I'm going to Warrensburg, NY, near Charles Lathrop National Forest--to a cell phone tower." She hands a paper to Jason with the exact cellphone tower written down and some additional related information: AT&T Cell Tower 7139-yt 15500Kw No Trespassing Danger In Accordance with FCC code 47 CFR § 1.1314(d). The handwriting is sloppy and rushed. "One of my new allies asked me to conduct a psych evaluation on his friend who is mentally unstable. Thinks he's Mothman, and I'm pretty sure he has degenerative amnesia. He declined treatment, but I can at least evaluate him if I can talk to him for a few hours. To do that, I'm going to deliver some cash to his "address" that he asked for to cover travel costs--and while I'm there I'm going to offer him a ride that gets him halfway to his friend--my ally--in Chicago."

As the two continue their duet: "Are you sure that's a good idea? Do you know how long this will take? You can't be gone that long. How are you going to get there?" Finally looking away from the guitar, he looks at Mel. "Do you even know how to drive?"

"I'll hire a dog walker," Mel instantly replies with a grin, expecting this string of questions. "It'll take at least 18 hours total--probably 20. A good idea?" She pauses. "I'll get back to you on that. But as Kevin Sparkles said, friends help each other and now I'm sort of in his network..." As she talks, she double checks the contents in her backpack, balancing it on the back of the couch.

"Better be a damn good walker. I don't like this. And who the hell is Kevin Sparkles? That's a stupid name." Jason gives Violet a side glance as he realizes he said a 'bad word.'

Violet has no idea what hell is and continues unphased. "Someone's driving me. Kevin is the guy who's connecting us with his friends to get us..." Mel glances at Violet, "new names and formal paperwork--and possibly do some investigating on someone's origins. And I didn't get to pick his name." Now she sounds a bit short as she moves away into the kitchen to find some probably-Mothman-approved snacks--nothing Mel would have ever bought, but Jason keeps the place well stocked in that capacity.

"Here, Nugget, play with Daddy's guitar." He gets up and goes to his room. A moment later he joins Mel in the kitchen. "Who's driving you? Can you trust them?" Jason looks at the snacks Mel's packing up. "Don't take the Cheetos, Violet likes to pretend they're crunchy worms."

Aside from the designer clothes that Keara got her years ago, Mel never acted rich. At the same time, she never seemed worried about money. Getting the apartment, filling it with affordable furniture and decor, going to the local firing range with Jason for up to 8 hours a week, buying several firearms with accessories, and then the additional expenses associated with Violet--Mel paid for without issue nor hesitation. In fact, paying for everything they seemed to need was her unspoken default. In this moment, however, Mel replies. "I'm hiring a female chauffeur. For that price, I trust she won't ask too many questions." She removes the Cheetos from her bag with a slight frown and then proceeds to pull a bottle of lemonade (also Violet's favorite) out of the fridge. The sound of light knocks on the body of the guitar followed by more giggles come from the living room.

Reading the room, Jason says, "I can't talk you out of this can I?"

Mel pauses her packing and looks Jason in the eyes. "Would you feel better if Abbas came along?"

"It'd be a start." Jason holds up a small metal cylinder. "I hope you won't need it, but we don't need all of New York knowing where you are." Jason says with a half-hearted grin. "You just screw it onto the end of the handgun. Also..." He walks over to a cabinet. "You might need this too--you did say 'Mothman,' right?" He hands Mel a lightbulb. This grin is real. The grin quickly vanishes. "24 hours. Then I come looking for you." He turns and leaves the kitchen. "Hey, Nugget, you're going to be better than Daddy in no time!"

"Okay..." Mel's eyebrows raise at the metal cylinder, and then she grins slyly at the lightbulb. "I'll text you--the regular way since I just did a ton of back to back 'calls' today already--when I arrive to the location." She follows Jason into the living room. "See you in a little while honey," punctuated with a goodbye kiss on the child's head. Violet replies with a smile, "Bye Mommy!" Lastly, Mel nods to Jason before going on her way.

Mel hears as she walks out the door. "Maybe we can go to the zoo and see the animals while Mommy's gone. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Okay! ... What's a zoo?"

---

Lo-Jacked

Mel arrives at their apartment 20 hours later exhausted but unharmed.

Jason is half asleep in front of the TV himself from chasing a 3-year-old around a zoo in his cursed state. Sleeping Violet is curled up next to him. "Glad you made it back okay," he says with a sigh of relief. "She wanted to wait up for you." He looks at Mel. "She didn't make it. Did you do what you needed to do?"

"I did the best I could," Mel replies quietly as she carefully scoops up Violet, disturbing but not waking her. "Let's go."

After picking up a small pre-packed bag of snacks, drinks, Scratch, and some toys to amuse Violet in the morning, the three head out of the apartment and begin the short, familiar walk to their haunted prison--the only place where the two adults can rest.

While the "couple" are walking Violet wakes for a brief moment. "I saw bears," she mumbles and then falls asleep again in Mel's arms. 

After a long pause, Mel adds, "Thanks for waiting." Then she glances over at Jason while shaking her head and smiling slightly. "You're worse than Keara."

"Hey, you had four more hours," he says with a slight grin. "Just be thankful I don't have you lo-jacked." He turns to Mel in mock questioning. "Or do I?..."

Mel looks back at Jason with half-fake/half-sincere suspicion. "Low-what?"

"Don't worry about it dear," he says in the teasing "husband" voice.

A Bit More Comfortable

Jason receives a phone call, even if his phone is on silent or dead. Despite the number being restricted, the caller ID shows the image of a paw print and the caller's profile is somehow registered in his phone as "Friend of Abbas."

"Hello?" In the background you hear the tinkering of machines and the sounds of welding, and a TV is blasting talking about the Dodgers game and it's the third quarter.

A young woman's voice with an American (West Coast) accent. "Hello Jason. My name is Mel, and I'm a friend of Abbas. He told me you were looking for someone, and I might be able to help."

"Hey. Mel. Nice to meet you.” Jason takes a drink of his beer. “I am looking for two people."

Mel’s background is totally silent. "Would you like to tell me about them, or would it be helpful for us to establish more trust first?"

Jason watches the TV for a second and gets distracted, saying, “Goddammit, he should have moved!” He then apologizes and turns off the TV. "Come down to my shop, I'll get you some lunch. 2273 Fig Street. Los Angeles, California."

"I'm one of you, but I'm in a situation where I can't travel far from Detroit--at risk of death. However, this 'call' is one of my powers--it just uses your phone as a conduit. It's totally confidential and supernaturally obscured at both ends--it cannot be recorded or even heard by outsiders. I welcome you to test that out, or you can come to me in Detroit to discuss things." A pause. "Abbas is here too."

"Wow." Jason takes a moment to think. "I can come and visit you, but for the sake of trust I'd like to meet in a public place first. Deal?"

"That's fine. Pick anywhere in Detroit, and I'll be there. Abbas may choose to join us too, as my bodyguard--unless you want me to try to persuade him otherwise." A pause. "I'm not... I'm a healer by trade. That leads to certain vulnerabilities." She sounds apologetic.

Jason smiles. "I getcha. I can see how that can happen. No worries. I will take a flight tonight. I will see you tomorrow." Jason purchases a business class ticket to Detroit and a hotel room.

"Perfect. Here's my burn phone number..."

The meeting place that Jason selected is Heart Plaza, Detroit--an open public space consisting of several metal art structures, several fountains, spots of landscaped greenery, and the occasional concrete seating. Jason sits outside and waits. He is a large man hunched over staring at an iPad and yelling a bit. A young couple walks by several yards away, their peaceful moment interrupted by the avid sports fan. A teenage girl on a skateboard whizzes by them.

A short, rather thin half Asian/half white woman in her 30s gets out of an Uber and looks around. She wears understated designer clothes in blacks, whites, and greys: sunglasses, black skinny jeans, white modest blouse, grey peacoat unbuttoned, and brown booties. She carries a small waterproof designer backpack (also black). Upon closer inspection, the woman appears sickly--like she hasn't slept in days and severely dehydrated.

Jason received another call, but this time the profile photo in his phone shows what Mel currently looks like, zoomed out a bit to show the surrounding area. The contact says "Mel." The woman isn't visibly interacting with her phone in any way. Instead, she takes off her sunglasses and puts them away in her bag.

Jason answers the phone. “Wattup?”

"I'm here." The call immediately ends. Mel, seeing the man pick up his phone, walks across the plaza straight to him. "Hello, Jason," Mel says with a smile. She looks exhausted.

“Long day, Mel? Did you want a coffee or something?”

Mel chuckles. "No thanks, but that's kind of you! Unless it's some special coffee, it won't help--I'm actually quite cursed." The unusual bad news seems pretty normal to the woman as she takes a seat next to Jason on the concrete bench structure, buttoning her jacket closed to stave off the cool breeze coming off of the nearby water.

Jason takes a sip of coffee. “Sorry to hear that.”

Mel nods. "It's ... a work in progress. Certainly has taken me in some new directions, and I believe we can eventually break free of it--although not on our own." She looks down at the iPad. "Who's winning?"

“Cardinals. They really should get better coaches. Not as good as they used to be.”

Mel nods again, knowing very little about sports. "Well, thanks for coming all this way..." Mel looks around and, satisfied that no one is paying attention to them, pulls a business card out of her coat pocket. Instead of offering it to Jason, who is seated a few feet away, the small paper gains a soft silver glow and floats over to him, hovering right above his iPad. Her eyes also have the same overlay of a silver glow, although she's not looking at Jason nor the card. The card reads "Dr. Melanie Dakkera, Clinical Psychologist, [PHONE NUMBER], [SAN FRANCISCO ADDRESS]." Her private practice is called “Mind Thrive,” and it has a website and a professional logo.

Jason takes the card and looks at it. "Neat trick by the way. Did you prefer for me to call you Dr. Dakkera?"

"Mel is fine." The card becomes mundane when Jason touches it, and Mel looks at him with a soft smile. "Even if I were to provide you with supernatural therapy, I prefer 'Mel'--after all, we're colleagues."

"Sure, Mel.” Jason puts the card in his pocket. "Down to business then? I am looking for two people. One is Iryna, I did a few jobs with her. I just want to make sure she is ok. The second is my daughter--the whole reason why I am doing this. She went missing a few months ago but the thing is she vanished. No one remembers her."

"That's horrible--I'm so sorry Jason." Mel seems visibly moved by the news. "I have the power to call anyone I know in any dimension--including people who are slightly removed from me, like a friend's friend--so long as they have an electronic device on them and 'pick up' the call. How old is she, and what's her full name?"

"Thank you. She is 17 years old. Her full name is Jessica Valent."

"Okay, Jessica Valent. It won't look like I'm calling her because I don't need to use my phone, but I'll tell you if I reach her." Mel looks around again for a moment. The damp wind coming off of the water makes it difficult for her to smell Abbas, but she trusts he's somewhere nearby, watching over her while she concentrates. Mel closes her eyes and begins to breathe deeply…

As you start to pull into the aether, grasping through the void for Jessica Valent, you seek for a signal, sending out your own, and yet there's no response; there's no dial. Your message just echoes through the darkness like a single burst of the star into the infinite void, with nothing returning.

Mel opens her eyes and turns to the man with a frown. "I'm sorry, Jason. She either is not alive or she doesn't have an electronic device with her--even a dead or broken one."

Jason becomes angry for a moment and regains his composure. "Figured she would have forgotten her phone or something. Or they took her phone. If she's dead I'd at least like to bury her. Is there another way to reach out or try something..."

Mel nods, unhappy with the outcome and empathetic with Jason's reaction. "I'll check with all my allies and see if anyone has relevant power or skill. If someone does, they may do it for free or they may want something in exchange. Is there anything you can offer up, any services or goods, that I can pass on--assuming I find someone with the right skillset who wants to barter?"

"I am a crafter and can make items that are mundane or those of power. I have some cash available as well. I can also do it for a favor or help them with something else. Abbas can speak to the quality of my items."

Mel nods. "So, we have two bits of business remaining then. First, I'll try calling your Iryna..." Mel closes her eyes again and takes in another deep breath. So long as Iryna has some electronic device nearby that's hers (even if it's turned off, dead, or broken), it will ring. The most common calling app is used, and somehow the contact is saved in the device yet the exact number is restricted. The caller is "Jason Valent's Friend" and the profile picture is a paw print.

There is some commotion on the other end of the line as there is the sound of boiling, and something erupting in flames. Then comes a woman’s voice, low and thick with a Slavic accent. “What is wanted?”

"Iryna, my name is Dr. Melanie Dakkera." A young woman's voice with a West Coast American accent. "I'm one of you who goes on insane missions for insane payments. I learned that Jason Valent--a colleague of yours--was looking for you. Specifically, he wants to know if you're okay."

As soon as she stops communicating telepathically, Mel opens her eyes and says to Jason: "Iryna has picked up. Hold on please." This would be much easier if I had a 'speaker phone' option... she thinks to herself.

“Well then, hello Dr. Dakkera. You can inform Mister Valent that I am quite alright, alive and well.”

"I shall. Would you like to pass your phone number on to him? No pressure of course--and unfortunately I can't just hand him the phone--I'm calling you telepathically using your phone as a focus."

"Let her know my shop is open, and we are looking for employees."

On Jason's end, Mel continues to sit there quietly. She nods, acknowledging what he said. Technically her eyes could be opened, but she wanted some way to signal which conversation she was focusing on in a given moment. And she appreciated Abbas watching her back.

“Yes yes, my number is [###-###-####]. Though I do not believe I will be consistently available for calling during the day.”

Mel audibly repeats the number to hold it in her mind, signals Jason to write it down, and then repeats it again for him. To Iryna: "Thank you. He will be calling you soon to, I believe, offer you employment at his shop. Now that his needs have been met, I have a separate bit of business with you--another motivation for helping him. I'm exploring the idea of forming a network of people like us to promote the exchange of goods and services. As a mental health healer, anyone in this network will receive supernaturally effective therapy for free. I also have an item that can be used to heal physical scars--which I'm willing to part with because I intend on having that ability soon anyways. My goal is to gain other useful abilities as well, such as healing and enhancing the body. People within the network could tell me what they are willing to offer and what they need, and I would match them up--respecting individuals' preferences for privacy. For example, those who want to be hidden can talk to me about the request and the requesting member instead of me directly passing on their name and contact information to others. To control the quality of the members, I would meet with each applicant in person to ask a few questions--just to make sure we don't let in, say, serial killers and terrorists and such. My profession as a psychologist combined with supernaturally enhanced perceptions makes it easier for me to detect liars and those with ill will. Iryna, is this something you might be willing to consider being a part of?"

“It sounds tempting, I could make quite a use out of an item to mend my scars. I agree to your preliminary interview. Mind you though I am not able to leave the state of California for prolonged periods of time. I have obligations.”

Iryna hears Mel laugh hard. "E-excuse me!" More laughter. "I'm so sorry..." Chuckles. Then Iryna hears Mel take a slow, deep breath to compose herself. The smile is still apparent in her voice. "I'm supernaturally bound to Detroit--with risk of death if I stray from here too long. But I'm sure we can figure something out--maybe a state in the middle? It would only take a few hours of conversing. If finances are an issue, I'd be glad to help you pay for it."

“Well, if that’s the case, I shouldn’t miss too much if I am gone for a day. I will require money for airplane tickets in that event however.”

"How would you like me to get the money to you? Or... shall you share your personal information so I can book the flight on your behalf?" Mel opens her eyes and grabs her bag, pulling out a notebook and paper.

“If you send the money to this account, that should be fine. And do tell mister Valent that although his offer is kind, I will likely not be taking it. It is not… in my path I have planned.”

The account information is recorded by hand, as Mel knows a bit too much about hackers. "I will pass that on to him. Also, my burn phone number is… ready? [PHONE NUMBER]. Just text me when and where exactly you'd like to meet--nothing else. I'll call you on this private line if I have any questions--and you'll get the money within an hour. Pleasure talking with you, and I look forward to meeting you in person." Mel's tone becomes very professional, as though she's said that specific phrase a million times.

“You as well, Doctor Dakkera.”

The unnaturally clear call ends. It was about a 5-minute conversation before Mel opens her eyes and looks at Jason. "Iryna seems to have a different career in mind, but you have the phone number so you can talk to her directly now."

"Great. Thanks for doing that. What do I owe you?"

Mel smiles. "You owe me nothing--although I'll accept any gift or service you're freely willing to offer. But before we get to that, we do have one last bit of business left..." She looks around again for a moment, still not sensing Abbas. "Ah, excuse me. Abbas is somewhere nearby, but he's practically perfected hiding in plain sight..."

"That was kind of you Mel. I appreciate it. Are you good with computers?"

"I can use them, but not really anything beyond that. Why--oh, is that the goods you make, or something else?”

“I have a device that can help you hack a computer or unlock items. Abbas has one. It is useful but right now I have a bunch of spiders come out and it's a bit creepy. I have to go to my shop to make it but I can mail it to you."

Mel chuckles. "My standard for creepy have gotten much higher than that lately. I'll gladly receive one!" She opens up the small leather notebook again, writes down an address, and tears out the paper for him. It's the address of a museum in Detroit. "Now, that call went long because I made Iryna an offer--and you're getting the same offer. I'm forming a network of people like us, as a way to help people exchange goods and services. Anyone in this network will receive supernaturally effective therapy from me for free and any other healing power I get. Assuming I succeed at more of these insane jobs, I plan on healing the body as well as the mind. People within the network could tell me what they are willing to offer and what they need, and I would match them up. However, individuals' preferences for privacy would be respected. Anyone who wants to be hidden can talk to me about a requesting member, for example, instead of me directly passing their information on to others. To qualify for the network, I would meet with each person ahead of time to ask a few questions--as some of us are not worthy of being trusted. Being a psychologist and having supernaturally enhanced perceptions makes it easier for me to detect fakes and sociopaths--a least, the malicious ones." Mel smiles at the thought that, in a way, they are all rather psychotic. "What do you think, Jason?"

Jason takes a moment and thinks. You see his big hands come to the table he seems to be missing part of a finger. "These jobs are crazy and I have never had my life at stake so many times. Your help is welcomed. I am happy to answer your questions."

Mel smiles. She still looks like shit from the curse, but this moment she seems to be in her element. "Would you like us to have this conversation here in the open, or beside me yet through my private line, so it's hidden from others, or somewhere else--like a hotel room? I just want to respect your privacy."

"Out here isn't a place to answer questions like this. And I'd like to get a burger or something. Do you have an office or something nearby? I have a hotel room rented as well."

"Let's do your hotel room--er, with Abbas as well." Mel imagines her "husband" questioning her decision to screen a client in his hotel room. She looks around and then sighs, not knowing if her ghostly bodyguard is within hearing range of their conversation. "Abbas?"

You hear a sound of acknowledgement from behind you right beside your ear. Though you don't see him "mm"

"Ah, there you are."

"I am at the Marriott on 2nd street room 442. I am gonna grab a burger. You hungry?"

"No thanks, I have a really odd diet--and that was pre-curse." Turning to the empty space where she heard Abbas (and can now smell him), "Abbas, you hungry?"

"No."

Mel grins and turns to Jason. "Marriott on 2nd Street, Room 442. We'll meet you in the lobby in an hour--sound good?"

"Sounds Good"

About an hour later, Mel, seemingly alone, enters the modern, well-lit Marriott hotel lobby. In the early evening, the place is bustling with a collection of middle schoolers with their adult shepherds as well as several smaller groups of people chatting. She looks around for a moment and then walks across the common area to Jason, who was seated at the bar. "How was dinner?"

Jason, still eating his fries, looks up. “Pretty good thanks.”

Mel nods with a smile. "Great! Lead the way."

Jason puts away his food and cleans his large greasy hands. He then politely leads Mel to the elevator. Through his actions you can see that he is a well-mannered person. He leads you through the hallways to his room.

As you enter you see it's a small room with one bed. His luggage is still to the side. He pulls a chair up for Mel.

Mel takes the offered seat. In the enclosed space, she can smell Abbas nearby. She also focuses on taking in Jason's smells and sub-sonic sounds, with no visible indication of what she's doing. He smells like someone who took a shower in the last few hours. He also has a bit of oil on his hands from tinkering. His heart rate is a bit higher than normal.

"This won't take long." Mel smiles softly and motions for him to take a seat on the bed, a few feet away from her. "I just have a few questions, and I appreciate you letting me into your life a bit like this. To start, how are you feeling right now--in this moment?"

"A bit nervous. I... don't get out much."

"No worries, I'm here to help. Whether you're in the network or not, you'll have me as an ally for trading goods and services. What do you do with most of your time, when not doing our jobs?"

Jason nods. "That would be helpful. I spent the last few months trying to get my shop going. I make items and repair things. If not that then I watch the Dodgers and have a few beers. Nothing too exciting. What about you?"

Mel hesitates, like she's deciding something. "Well, if we're going to be allies then you should know that there are two of me--we split during a mission several months ago. The other one is working our therapy practice in California, and I'm busy trying to raise a young adoptive daughter and break a curse." She says this with an even, unshakably professional tone. "Next question though--why else do you go on these jobs? You shared you are looking for your daughter... Any other reason?"

"Thank you for sharing. I can see that we both care for the young. Well, I want to make something of lasting importance, something that will create a legacy. I have ideas for a device that can fly and do other manner of things but I need to compete is these games to get the juice I need." Jason pulls out his sketchbooks and you a number of devices he has been noodling with such as a hoverboard, transporter pad, and mind wipe device. "These are just some ideas but I want to make a bunch of them."

Mel looks at the sketches, genuinely interested. "Nice! I'm sure that's something that others would want--in the network and beyond." She goes back to her seat, sitting properly with crossed legs. "Now, what would you say your personal, moral limits are on these jobs? What lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?"

Jason thinks for a while. " Anything that involves hurting a real innocent kid I can't do. I will protect myself in self-defense, and I am not a fan of large amounts of death and destruction. While I say this, I think I will be making a change so I can be useful. I mean to say as long as I don't steal from someone that can't afford it or harm a kid, I should be alright."

"That makes sense. I feel the same way about children, and it extends to animals too. Also not a fan of causing death--or even harm if I can avoid it. Now, a slightly harder question: what is your greatest regret--a mistake you've made on one of these jobs?" Mel is attentive to Jason's heart rate in this moment.

"I had a job where we had to prove how we were better than the others. The other guy was some sort of super hero and was able to convince the others so I lost. My missing finger is a painful reminder of that."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She looks sincere. "I think I would simply bow out of a situation like that, if I could. I have my strengths, but I'm no better than my colleagues--on average." Mel sighs. "These tasks truly are insane..." Then she looks at Jason and tilts her head with overt curiosity. "Are you aware of any mental health challenges you'd like me to help you with--fears or compulsions or things like that?"

"Yeah, that was a weird one. I have an odd compulsion. Once I see machine parts I need to keep working with them. I can't stop. One time I worked all night until I passed out."

"Thank you for sharing. Do you trust me enough to try to work through that with you over the next few days--in person here in this hotel room?"

"Sure. That's not a problem."

"Sounds good." Jason's consent makes Mel smile. "Now, is there anything else you think I should know about you? Tracked by the FBI perhaps, someone trying to kill you, cursed--things like that? Something that could get me into trouble too, if I'm not careful?"

"No nothing like that." Jason’s heart rate is calmer now. Seems like he is a bit more comfortable.

"Okay, Jason, you're in. In fact, you're the first one of at least seven people I have in mind at the moment. Let's meet here for the next four days, two hours per day, to work through your compulsion. How does that sound? Can you close the shop for that long--and is money an issue?"

"Really? That is great. Thank you. I am happy to be here. Sure, I can stay here. Let me make some phone calls and make sure my clients are taken care of."

"Sure thing. Now, just a few questions about how you'd like to access the Network. Do you want to be 'private' or 'public'? Private means I don't share your name and contact information with anyone. Basically, I'm the middle person who reaches out to you if I find someone who has something you want or know of someone who wants your services. Public means I have your permission to pass your name and contact information on to others within the network as needed--although alias and burn phone number works just as well here."

"I'm gonna go with private. I want to be discreet to start."

"That's fine. I can call you on my confidential line as needed without knowing your phone number. So, a few more things..." Mel seems to have an onboarding list in her head. "Referrals from those in the network are encouraged--people who you'd consider to be trustworthy. Does anyone come to mind besides Iryna?"

"Sure Kurigo "Oz" Osikawa is great. Abbas is, as always, a good person to help. I have met others but don't want to mention at this time."

"Thank you, and I understand. Kurigo Osi--Osikawa." She repeats it twice to remember the name. "I'll reach out to them. To keep this network off of the record, I would prefer you not call my burn phone number. Instead, would it be alright if I confidentially called you once a month? Sort of like a check-in to see if you want anything, have anything new to offer, or have someone else to refer."

"Of course. You are welcome to call or reach out as needed."

"Great!" Mel seems more relaxed now too. "Now, personal squabbles between members in the network are on the people involved--it's not my business. I'm vouching that the people in the network are well-intentioned, but I don't guarantee that everyone will get along. Is that fine by you?

He smiles. "Yea I have seen some folks that are a little rough around the edges. I get it."

Mel smiles too. "Indeed. However,” her expression becomes serious and her tone drops. It might have been intimidating if she wasn't physically Pathetic--or maybe her dangerousness lies elsewhere. "... betrayal will not be tolerated in any fashion: betrayal of me as the person hosting the network, betrayal of the network as a whole, and betrayal of a group of co-workers on a job, if one of those co-workers is in the network. This is for our self-preservation."

“I get that betrayal just makes things worse. We need to stick together.”

"It does. In fact, my friends and I are working on dealing with a traitor at the moment--a guy from New York called Conrad. But that's not a Network issue, since you're my first member." Mel relaxes in the chair and her smile returns. "Now the fun part: what do you want? Someone who can help you find your daughter... someone who can heal your finger... anything else?"

“I’d like to expand my shop and use these abilities to be more. I want to make more friends that can help me and be more useful. Can you tell me about Conrad? I’d like to help if possible.”

Mel smiles. "I don't want to scare you, but right now I have an ex-military sniper, an experienced monster hunter, and a supernatural hacker working on the Conrad issue--ideally to resolve some unsettled business and make a point about betrayal without killing him... But thank you--I'll reach out to you if I think we could use more help. I more told you about him as a double warning: first, to be careful if you're on a mission with him and, second, to take the Network rules seriously. But, back to the last bit of business: besides devices that can hack and unlock things, is there anything else you'd like to offer to the group?"

“Some money if needed it seems young contractors might need some cash. I can help locate items that are supernatural in nature and can destroy most things smaller than an SUV. I can upgrade items including armor for the day and make them stronger. I can also scan people to find their weakness. And I was thinking about things I'd like in the future. The ability to talk in other languages and creatures, a better gun, and a way to control ghosts. I am fine to trade my services to be able to do these things and curry favors where I can. These games are deadly and we need all the help we can get."

At this point Mel is taking written notes to make sure she doesn't miss anything. She nods to Jason's final statement. "I completely agree." And then a grin. "Will you humor me? I trust you to be discreet with this--what are my weaknesses?"

“Well, you said you were cursed…” Jason goes to the bathroom and comes back with an electronic headpiece. "Do you mind if I scan you?"

"Go ahead." Mel seems quite calm. 

A green light flashes and begins to scan every inch of Mel. The device seems out of this world. Jason looks at her and says, "Your weakness is your physical body and your desire to not hurt people. Further, your hidden desires are to protect Kera Star. Additionally, you are paranoid about the government and their knowledge of you. There is more but I didn't want to overwhelm you."

The psychologist's expression becomes serious. "Yes... I would die for Keara--even cross my own moral limits and attempt to kill if it would keep her safe. And despite being so open with you, much of what I'm doing to create this Network terrifies me. How will you use this information, Jason? What do you think of me now?"

"This information is private and it will stay with me. I think better of you and now know that this is serious for you as lives are on the line."

"Thank you. Everything comes with a cost, but I'll do my best to protect my people--and that includes you now." Mel stands up. "I'll be back tomorrow at noon for our first therapy session." She looks into an empty corner of the room, sensing her invisible bodyguard by scent. "Abbas, we should probably head out now. I'm sure..." Mel looks at the first Network member with a smile "... my husband is wondering why this took so long."

Jason will smile. "Happy to be a part of this. I will walk you out."

"Heh." Abbas will appear, give a wave to Jason, and head out as well.

As they walk down the hotel hallway, Mel asks, “Oh, I almost forgot--is there anyone you do not trust that you’d say should not be in the network? Of course, I’ll look into any accusations myself, depending on how serious they are.”

"Hmm. I am not sure if I should mention this, but I know Mike Du Bois threw a grenade during a contract and nearly killed us all. Iryna was there. He is useful but dangerous."

“Good to know.”

-----------------

Smart Woman

As the sun finishes setting over Detroit, at the top of some all but desolate parking garage, sits running a large black truck. The size of the chariot does not appear to be a luxury, rather, a necessity, because the woman leaning on the hood is easily about seven feet tall, and built more solidly than any bodybuilder Mel has seen. Though she’s displaying a healthy amount of body fats, where professional bodybuilders would be lacking. She’s currently wearing blue jeans, a large black jacket over a cropped black shirt, and boots so large Mel would be certain one could fit both of her own feet. She brushes some of her thick, raven-colored hair from her face as Mel approaches, her bright green eyes faintly glowing in the dark and observing carefully.

Mel is Iryna's foil, at least physically. The short, rather thin half Asian/half white woman in her 30s gets out of an Uber that pulls into an empty parking space several spaces away from the black truck. She wears understated designer clothes in blacks, whites, and greys: black skinny jeans, white modest blouse, grey peacoat unbuttoned, and brown booties. She carries a small waterproof designer backpack (also black). Her thick, slightly curly black hair is cut in a tidy bob. Upon closer inspection, the woman appears sickly--like she hasn't slept in days and severely dehydrated. She appears to be approaching the vehicle unarmed and alone. The driver pulls away a minute after she gets out.

“Well, you must be the good doctor. Doctor Iryna Vorobyova at your service.” She nods her head at the woman, still looking over her with her own arms crossed, a nondescript black backpack clutched in one of her hands.

"Iryna, I see that you've been busy. Would you be willing to turn off your cell phone or any other electronic device you have on you?"

She takes out her cellphone to display that it is already off. “Only thing I have on me that transmits. Radios in the truck are off.”

"Thank you." Mel nods. "Are you aware that the odds are very high you're being actively tracked by the government--probably the FBI?"

“All the more spectators to watch my little stunt. Let them think they hold the cards.

“They will be convinced they have the upper hand, but I am not a fool. I am a radiobiologist by trade. I’ve seen how things are handled here in regards to anomalies in social order. So I’m using that.” Iryna smells a little like burning, and a little like ozone before a lightning strike. She is a creature of energy, that much you can tell. As for her heart rate, it is at a strong and steady pace, like a hammer using her chest as a drum.

Mel raises an eyebrow to Iryna's response and then shrugs. "I'm glad things are as you want them to be. Now, would you like to go somewhere more private for our chat, like a room in a nearby hotel, or perhaps sit in the back seat of the truck?" She makes a mental note that Abbas and Jason wouldn't approve of the latter option. Oh well.

“Back seat would be preferable, though cramped on my legs.” She moves to the truck and slides the passenger seat forwards, before hopping in and taking off her jacket. She’s also taken something out of the passenger seat, which almost looks like a steel animal travel cage, and set it in her lap.

Mel glances around thinking, Sorry Abbas, and then climbs into the back seat of the large vehicle and shuts the car door. She keeps her jacket on and holds the backpack in her lap. And then eyes the cage in Iryna's lap. "A pet?"

“A trouble maker, that’s what he is. His name is Vuhlynka, and he’s a volcanic little drakon from Hawaii. He’s the one who started the fire.”

"Ah, a sweet thing!" Mel seems delighted to see this creature but smart enough to not try to touch it or its cage. "I'm glad you found him--I'm sure there are less gentle hands that would want him." 

“You can hold the cage if you wish, it is insulated to ensure he does not scorch the vehicle. And yes there are, this particular type was thought to be extinct, and his… less exothermic cousins are being poached and trafficked into endangerment.”

"Horrible!" Mel shifts her bag to be in the middle seat and holds the cage in her lap. it is slightly warm. She grins at Iryna, truly an animal lover. Then a more professional tone and expression--still mildly happy though--takes over. "I suppose we should get started then... Iryna, why do you do these insane jobs?"

“The jobs are more a byproduct. The more I go on, the more I get to figuratively workout my body and mind, which allows me to continue to grow towards my ambitions of global environmental protection. And nuclear disarmament.”

"Both are vast and noble goals--and I hope you are successful." Mel smiles. "What fills your time when you're not on these jobs--firefighting I suppose?"

“And tech repair, until two weeks from now. Full time firefighting. A large boost to the public image I’m building.”

"I'm sure!" Mel nods. "What would you say your personal--moral limits are on these jobs? What lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?"

“I avoid killing when it can be helped. I would also prefer not to torture people, unlike the horse man.” Iryna’s heartbeat increases noticeably.

"Understood, and thank you for sharing." Mel makes a mental note to ask about the horse man later. "Now, a slightly harder question: what is your greatest regret--a mistake you've made on one of these jobs?"

“Well… not necessarily mistakes on my end, however…” she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I have witnessed multiple events where many people died. Most recently many drunks in a cellar that a colleague set ablaze. The explosion killed them near instantly. Then before that… I saw a man on a motorcycle destroy multiple city blocks. Handled a situation carelessly and blew up much of Indiana Metropolis.” Now her heart rate is extremely agitated. “Only when I got free, no such incident existed. It’s like it never did.”

"I'm sorry, Iryna." Mel sets a hand on the large woman's shoulder and looks her in the eyes, now fully taking in how they're practically glowing. "These tasks are truly odd--insane even--and I completely believe you." She returns her hand to the cage in her lap. "These jobs can scar the body and the mind. Are you aware of any mental health challenges you'd like me to help you with--fears or compulsions or things like that?"

“Fortunately nothing severe. Hard times make strong wills. Well, I lied. There is one phobia I have. I panic if captured or completely imprisoned without hope of escape.”

"I actually think that's a very reasonable fear to have--common among many people, to have such a level of power and freedom forcibly taken away..." She pauses. "Now, is there anything else you think I should know about you, besides your newfound fame? For example, are you aware of anyone or anything actively trying to kill you or are you cursed--things like that? Something that could get me into trouble too, by association, if I'm not careful?"

“Let me think… if we are in battle together, and I bleed on you, I suggest you wash it off very quickly.”

Mel looks surprised. "I will do so." She looks down at the creature in the cage for a moment and then back at Iryna. "You've answered all of my questions--thank you. Do you have anything you'd like to ask of me?"

“Why do you go on these jobs, Doctor Mel? What is your purpose for pushing forwards?”

Mel sighs and looks out the window for a moment, to arrange the bits of the story cohesively. "At first I wanted to have more power to heal the human mind. Then I realized that I needed a way to do so undercover--to not be..." She remembered what Mark Collins had said "... the golden goose that dies at the hand of its owners--something like that. So I started pursuing a completely new identity--no, setting myself up to be a completely different species that could live independently yet fit in well with people and do undercover healings." She looks at Iryna with a tired grin. "I was preparing to become a therapy dog, so that I could visit and supernaturally heal children in children's hospitals." A pause. "Along the way, I became cursed--which is why right now I look like shit--cursed alongside my coworker and friend. As we started to work through that, we stumbled upon a toddler--a sweet little girl being barely kept alive by a demon that fed off of her. Now..." The Pathetic woman has a hardened expression, one of extreme determination. "I must protect my daughter from a demon and free myself and my friend from a curse..." Her expression softens into a slight smile. "And I can still heal others along the way."

“A therapy dog? My my, quite the endeavor. A noble one, and I apologize greatly for the curse that has tied you away from that. Although I personally do not know anything about magics, I offer you my full support and assistance. If you would like, I can even attempt to run by the details of this curse by a friend of mine. He may even be able to help with your demon problem.”

"Thank you, I accept all and any help. That's what gave me the idea to form the Network--which you're now a part of by the way. But first, did you say you had a scar that needed healing?" Mel reaches into her backpack, digging through it in search of something. From Iryna's tall vantage point and given that it's in the seat between them, she can see a small black handgun in there, a wallet, a couple of snacks, a couple of smaller metal items... 

“Smart woman, to always keep a weapon on her. And as for the travma.” She lifts her shirt to reveal a heavily indented and scarred over area, directly over her kidney. “Also Vuhlynka has an eye missing. The tail grows back on its own.”

"Thank you." Mel pulls out a small pill bottle that clearly has something inside of it and passes it to Iryna. "At the moment, all I have is this one pill that may get used up when you take it. If it, uh, comes back up on its own, then we'll wash it off and I'd appreciate if you return it. If it gets used up, that's also fine. Soon I'll have the ability to heal all kinds of scars, but at the moment I'm sharing what I have." She looks down at the lizard. "Vuhlynka will probably have to wait."

Mel passes along a handwritten note that explains the pill's usage: "The pill may react with the body in a special manner and instead of consuming the pill, the pill will force itself out of your mouth. The consumer will feel their scar rearranging itself and it is very visible as it heals. Will take a week. Cooked using starfish as a base, this will stimulate your cells to regenerate at an accelerated manner. Be warned: by the end of it, you will feel exhausted for an hour or two since it is upping your metabolism."

“Thank you. I would like you to have something of mine as a token of newfound partnership and goodwill.”

Mel is genuinely surprised by this, as though her providing aid was perfectly expected and getting something in return was not.

Iryna hands the woman what appears to be a portable charger, about the size of a smartphone. “This is my own blood forged into a powerful battery. Leaves no external traces. It takes an hour to power any machine in working condition, or you can use it to repair anything you wish to power. Taxing mathematics and science behind it though, causes a bit of a headache.”

“But, I need you to promise me, that by taking this, you are my ally in protecting the world we live in, in its natural glory. And how you use this will reflect that.”

Mel looks at the device and listens with a mix of confusion and awe. By her own blood? Any machine? She listens to Iryna, processing the terms of the agreement being laid out, and then thinks through it for a long moment just to be sure she's sure. Looking up at Iryna, eye to eye, Mel replies, "I am committed to protecting animals, which includes wild ones. I'm not sure how I can support you in protecting the natural world given my specialty is working with people, but I'm willing to be your ally and help in whatever ways I can."

“Then take this. Doctor Mel.” She smiles and hands it off. “Why do you seem so confused? Trying to find a pattern in everything you know of me?”

"Always," Mel replies with a grin. "Now I very much don't want your blood on me." She giggles and then glances out the window. "I suppose at this point I should tell you that I didn't come alone--I have a friend hiding out there who is probably fuming that I got into the back of this truck with you and shut the door." 

“I suppose I should’ve assumed you’d have backup. Well let him know that I don’t have an extra core for him.” Iryna gives a wide, mischievous grin.

Mel grins too. "I will--he's not much into technology anyways, although I can see why Jason Valent wanted to partner with you." Mel pauses. "Let's finish getting you set up though. How would you like to access the Network? Do you want to be 'private' or 'public'? Private means I don't share your name and contact information with anyone--although you can always use an alias and a burner phone. Basically, I would be the middle person who reaches out to you if I find someone who has something you want or know of someone who wants your services. However, public means I have your permission to pass your name and contact information on to others within the network as needed--and you're already pretty public as it stands." 

“I think I’ll be public, just so others are encouraged to go through you and not randomly show up where I live.”

Mel laughs. "An excellent choice! Now, personal issues between members in the network are the issues of the people involved--it's not my business. I'm vouching that the people in the network are well-intentioned and relatively sane, but I don't guarantee that everyone will get along or have the same end goals. Sounds good so far?" 

“So far, yes.”

"I doubt this will be an issue between us at this point, but I do want to cover everything." Mel's expression becomes serious and her tone drops. It might have been intimidating if she wasn't physically Pathetic--or maybe her dangerousness lies elsewhere. "Betrayal will not be tolerated in any fashion: betrayal of me as the person hosting the network, betrayal of the network as a whole, and betrayal of a group of co-workers while on a job if one of those co-workers is in the network. This is for our self-preservation."

“Clear as day. The only time I would actively bring harm to a co-worker is if they were about to do something morally reprehensible, such as murdering a bystander.”

"Entirely understandable. By 'betrayal' I more mean shoving a knife into one or more people's backs to get ahead of them--or turning the whole group in to the FBI. At the moment I'm working with several friends to deal with a verified traitor, someone who backstabbed his whole team near the end of a job." Mel pauses to determine the remaining things on her mental list. "This network is based on referrals. Is there anyone you know of in our line of work who you trust? I can confidently, telepathically call anyone so long as I know their name and am not too removed from them--relationally, like a friend's friend... or even based on their face or scent." 

“Virgil Arrior, Kurigo Osikawa, Akira Han. May I make blacklist recommendations as well?”

Mel pulls out a journal and pen and writes down the referral list, asking Iryna to repeat them. "Yes, blacklists as well--although I'd like to know why and may verify it for myself from a safe distance." 

“Kevin Sparkles and Kaerym Yasura. The first is a manipulative sociopath who is willing to torture as soon as you disrupt his friendly facade. The second is flighty and impulsive, and will explode away from a landmine even if you have dropped down to release him from it.”

"I've spoken with and met with Kevin Sparkles--not on business related to the Network--and also with one of his 'good friends.' I found some concerning inconsistencies that your information now confirms. As for Kaerym, I will look into them more. Your warnings will be taken seriously. Given that your phone is likely tapped by the FBI and my desire to keep myself and the Network hidden, I ask that you don't call me--not even my burn phone. Instead, I'll look into ways for you to be able to privately reach me, beyond me simply calling you. That said, my plan is to contact everyone in the network once a month to ask for updates: new requests, new goods and services to offer, and new referrals--or blacklist candidates. That way the figurative message board stays current." In fact, Mel had trashed her recently replaced burn phone (due to the hacker prank) as soon as she saw Iryna make the news headlines.

“Good to hear. I will keep things quiet. In the meantime, feel free to contact me in your way. Should a radio work for contact?”

"Yes, anything that can send or receive audio, even if it's dead or broken. Now for the fun part: what goods or services would you like to offer to trade? And what are you wanting from the Network--besides healing your friend's eye?" 

“I offer my protection services, my might. And I may need assistance from anyone with underground contacts, I need information on supernatural creature trafficking and materials from poached creatures.”

Mel continues to take notes as Iryna shares. "Understood. I'll keep an ear out for underground contacts as the Network grows. Also, I'm assuming your protection services are going to be relatively limited in range and duration--aren't you tied to California?"

“Actually, in two weeks I will be full time employed at Nashville Tennessee. So I may have to keep my head down for the time being. But I can repair things and destroy things beyond recognition, and be of medical help, which may be of use to someone.” 

"Got it. I'll keep that in mind, and we'll update your offerings when you're ready." Mel closes the notebook, puts it (and the pen and the "charger") into her bag, and then passes over the insulated cage. "Anything else, Iryna?" She looks back at her new friend with a contented smile. She still looks like shit due to the curse, yet Mel seems to be in her element.

“Yes, one thing.” Mel’s smile is mirrored on Iryna’s face. “Don’t be afraid to call for non-Network related things. It will be good to have a friend.”

"I appreciate that very much. Getting a friend out of all this effort is not expected yet always welcome. And I haven't forgotten your offer to help me with my current situation... I'll call you about it soon." She glances out the window again and sighs. "But at the moment I should probably apologize to my paranoid, loving bodyguard."

“Yes yes, go ahead.” She smiles and hops out of the car herself, fitting a small piece of meat through the bars of Vuhlynka’s cage.

Mel hops out too with small backpack in tow, turning back to wave goodbye with a "Drive safe!" before walking across the desolate parking garage towards a staircase in the corner. Nearing the staircase, she says aloud to the seemingly empty space around her, "I'm sorry for scaring you, Abbas, and grateful that you came. Iryna could probably snap me in half if she had felt like it--although she never would. Next time, you're welcome to be visible and right beside me as I screen new members, if you'd prefer that over being outside and close by ..." On the one hand, Mel feels bad. On the other, maintaining stealth is Abbas's choice.

Silence fills the air for a bit before a soft sigh comes from Abbas as he reappears from the shadows. "Too dangerous, keep your own safety in mind." "I'll consider it next time if you're going to be this reckless.."

Mel's face gets red from the scolding as she looks away from Abbas. He wasn't wrong, and she would likely hear it from Jason next. "... I'll be more careful from now on ... we're in this together."

Abbas nods before lending an arm to help her back as the curse start weighing on her 

Mel accepts it and also gives him her small backpack, more weary than she had realized. They disappear side by side into the darkness of the stairway. 

It Works

About a week later, Theo receives a call, even if his phone is on silent or dead. This time the caller ID says "Mel/Alice," and the profile picture is a paw print. Just as before, the phone number is restricted.

Theo answers "Hey there"

A familiar friendly voice. "Hello Theo. How are you?"

"Doing good, and you?"

"Been busy, and I partially blame you." Her smile is clear in her words. "Remember how you asked if I was making a Union with agreements and such? Well, now I am. It's an informal network of people like us who I'll stay in touch with--privately like this--each month. Members can request and offer goods and services, and refer new members and warn others about people who may need to be blacklisted. I'm screening everyone as well to make sure they are at least well-intentioned and relatively sane. These screenings happen in-person. And members' privacy will be protected at all times, with me being the middle man passing along requests throughout the group. What do you think, Theo? Interested in meeting with me to build more trust?"

Theo takes a moment to think over the offer, before deciding "Y'know what? Sure. We were gonna need to meet to take care of your kids' problem, anyway."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Pick any place in or around Detroit, and if money is an issue, I'd be happy to help you pay for the trip. The meeting can start in public, but if you want to proceed with a screening, I'd recommend finding a more private space, like a remote hiking spot or a hotel room. Also, just to be totally transparent, a bodyguard may accompany me."

"Anyone I'm familiar with?"

"Mm, not Jason--he'll be busy watching Violet. Do you happen to know a paranoid, shy monster hunter?

"...Paranoid would fit someone I know, but I wouldn't describe them as shy. I had a bit of an encounter with some of the jackass variety on my last job, your bodyguard wouldn't happen to be that sort, right?"

His only intention is to make sure I'm safe--and given how shy he is, he's usually invisible. However, I can see if Jason and him are willing to swap given that you know Jason--I'm sorry I didn't think of that sooner."

"Good. I'll pick somewhere out in Detroit, call you back? I might need to catch a flight to get there, I'll see what I can get sorted"

"Yes... Actually, I scrapped my burn phone recently and still need to get a new one. How about I call you back in 2 hours?"

"Sure, that sounds good"

"Thanks again, Theo. Talk to you soon." The 'call' goes quiet.

A 23-year-old Asian man with dyed red hair wearing a tough jacket, jeans, a blue and white striped shirt, hiking boots, and a straw hat would be standing in the open, pretending to admire nature while actually using his super senses to look out for Jason. He remembers his scent from when they worked together, and can track him with Bloodhound. He's standing fairly close to the brush, where he could quickly dive into it if needed.

A bit before their designated meeting time, Theo smells a faint something that is almost Jason. As the smell gets closer, he perceives that the scent is fundamentally off in a strange way--something he's never smelled before. As expected, someone is with him. As the minutes pass, two adults finally emerge around the corner of the dirt trail and thick greenery. A short, rather thin and frail half Asian/half white woman in her 30s walks beside the taller and more fit man who Theo knows to be Jason. Mel/Alice wears designer gray skinny jeans tucked into brown hiking boots and a plain black hoodie (with the hood down). Her hands are in her hoodie pockets, as though she might be cold. She carries a small waterproof designer backpack (also black). Her thick, slightly curly black hair is cut in a tidy bob. Jason wears plain jeans, a dark purple t-shirt with a cartoon bear on it (Violet picked it out), hiking boots, and an unzipped bulky jacket. He is seemingly unarmed, although Theo probably knows better. Upon closer inspection, both appear to be sickly--like they haven't slept in days and are severely dehydrated. Jason, who by conventional standards was quite handsome when Theo last saw him, now seems a bit unattractive. And, as the two come down the path, the self-proclaimed goblin king will notice that they smell rather similar: the unrecognizable smell is the same between them and they share other more familiar ones (such as laundry detergent and a recently cooked meal). In addition, the woman smells faintly of sandalwood and rose.

Jason briefly says something to Alice and then she smiles and waves to Theo, but neither rush over to him. When they first turned the corner, they seemed to be quietly chatting, but now both are silent as they approach. Theo has a very floral scent, with earthy undertones. This is a man who spends a lot of his time around plants and dirt.

Theo nods towards Jason and Mel "Jason, good to see you again. And you must be Mel, nice to meet you in person"

Mel/Alice nods and replies, speaking quietly, "Hello Theo." He recognizes the voice. "Please turn off your phone and any other electronic devices you have on you. We may be in an area with poor reception, but I don't want to take any chances."

“Of course." Theo turns his phone off.

"Good to see you too, Theo. It's been a while."

"Thanks." Alice grins at Jason, signaling that she's taking over from here. "So, how was the trip, Theo? Did you have far to travel?" As she talks, she takes a few steps down the hiking trail, looking back at the two guys as though to say Coming?

"Not too bad, had to book a flight over, there was this kid near the back who just wouldn't stop crying the entire flight, but other than that it was fine.” Jason will follow a few steps behind the two so they can chat more freely. Theo is following closer to Mel as they talk.

The three walk for a bit. In the middle of a weekday in the early afternoon, they indeed have their privacy. Wind rustles the trees, sounding briefly like ocean waves--a sound that makes Mel take in a deep breath and smile to herself. A nearby bush has a pile of chirpy birds which briefly catch her attention. "Normally I ask a list of questions at the beginning and then offer to answer questions at the end. But ..." She looks over at Theo. "What would you like to know about me?"

"Well, for a start, are you ok? You and Jason aren't looking too good. You mentioned something about a curse?"

"You're so thoughtful, Theo!" Alice smiles but then her expression becomes serious. "Outside of a haunted location in Detroit, we're both basically ill--and if we stay away from there for too long, we'll die. We're working on finding a way to break the curse, and until then..." She glances back at her bodyguard. "... we're making the most of it."

"Alright then, I'll make sure not to take too long with my questions. Next, I guess, I'll return a question of yours: What do you do all this for? What's your goal in going on these jobs?"

"Nah, we're fine right now. I promise." She thinks for a moment before answering. "Originally, I wanted to be an undercover supernatural healer--of the body and the mind. I really don't want to be known by the public as someone who can nearly instantly heal mental challenges and genetic diseases--the thought is terrifying. But I wanted to heal children in hospitals without outing myself or exposing them to the supernatural.

Now... I want to help Jason and I break free of this curse, and protect and care for Violet. And that may require more than what we can do on our own, so I'm trying to build a network. And maybe it will make the burden of these insane, dangerous jobs a little easier on everyone."

Theo nods "That's a nice goal. One of the most important things I've learned on these jobs is that we've got to stick together. Some of the teams I've been on have been good, others could barely stand each other, hell, even aside from Conrad one team I was on before had a couple of us try to kill one another. Actually getting to know who's who beforehand will be great for keeping infighting to a minimum."

"I'm also compiling a blacklist, where people can share negative experiences, and I'll do my best to confirm or cross reference the accusations. Hopefully that will keep us all safer--and maybe even deter reckless or immoral behaviors." She kneels down and feels the texture of a fuzzy green-white plant on the ground. "Of course, I'll try to keep all of the members safe too by maintaining their privacy, encouraging the use of burn phones and nicknames, and sharing contact information on a need-to-know basis only." She continues to seem exhausted. Then Alice stands up. "Really, the main weak point in the Network ..." She smiles softly. "... will be me."

Theo shrugs "If it works, it works. No use worrying about what'll happen when you're gone if you can't do anything about it. Unless someone else with a similar skill shows up, you're all we've got."

"And hopefully my friends will make me stronger," Alice says a bit less quietly as she glances back at Jason who is a few yards behind them.

"Any other questions before I go through my list?"

"I think I got what I wanted to know so far."

"Okay. I already know why you go on these jobs," Alice grins, "and I won't make you repeat yourself while detecting your heart rate--as an indication of your honesty and stress level. So the next question: what do you do when you're not on a job?"

"I'm a florist, a pretty good one too, if I do say so myself."

"Nice! That explains your smells. Now, a slightly harder question: what is your greatest regret--a mistake you've made on one of these jobs?" Alice is attentive to Theo's heart rate.

Theo thinks for a moment. "Hmm, that's a tough one. I've fucked up a few times that I regret."

"Right, so, early on, my third job was for this super shady looking guy. [SPOILERS] Because we fucked up. It was a really shitty day honestly."

Alice stops walking at some point in hearing this story. Her expression shifts from surprise to mildly troubled. Jason could easily guess that she's far more disturbed than she's letting on. "That is ... absolutely horrible." She looks Theo in the eyes and gently sets a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry you were manipulated into that situation ..." Wondering if she actually had permission to touch him (and what Jason might say about that later), Alice quickly takes her hand away and hides both in the pocket of her hoodie, looking away in mild embarrassment and still processing what Theo just shared. "I've never been betrayed by a client, although the possibility had crossed my mind..." She looks him in the eyes again. "... and I think nothing less of you."

“Thanks, Mel.”

Alice nods, making a mental note to mention her new identity when the timing is better. They continue on their walk for a few minutes, quietly as the psychologist resettles herself. The story is pretty upsetting given that Alice is in the same line of work. Theo could have been her. Finally, Alice asks the next question in a composed, neutral tone: "Besides not harming the innocent, what would you say your personal, moral limits are on these jobs? What lines have you tried hard not to cross?"

"I try to work with the team. Sometimes, we encounter some magic object or something that only one of us can have, or there's some big monster after us, but it can only get one of us, and I don't want to be the kind of person who screws the other guys over for my own gain. Aside from that" Theo cracks a slightly cheeky grin "I consider myself somewhat environmentally conscious. I wouldn't do something like burn a forest to smoke out a target, or anything like that."

Mel nods as she listens and then smiles. "I understand. The natural world is pricelessly valuable, and I know of at least one other like us who feels the same way." She pauses, momentarily checking on her mental list of questions. "Now, I know that these jobs can scar the body and the mind. Are you aware of any mental health challenges you'd like me to help you with--fears or compulsions or things like that?"

"No, gotten lucky so far. Been holding up fine”

Mel smiles. "I'm glad to hear it." Then the conversation pauses as the three Contractors watch what appears to be an extremely fit (like no a speck of fat on him) tan (like almost leathery skin) man in his 60s wearing nothing but tight running shorts, a fanny pack, and Vibrams (toe shoes) rapidly jog to and then past them. For Alice, this sight is not entirely unfamiliar, as she had done much hiking in the Bay Area over the past ten years. The man smells overwhelmingly of sweat and body odor.

Once their privacy returns, Alice continues: "If you ever are in need of mental health services in the future, I'd be happy to help free of charge. And, um, on that note... I think now might be a good time to mention that, due to the events of a job, there are two of me. We share all memories and skills up until the moment of the split several months ago. Our personalities and goals are almost identical as well. That being said, I gave her my true identity so that she can live the life she wants. Her name is Dr. Melanie Dakkera--Mel. And now I'm Alice Decker. Even if I die and the Network comes down, Mel will be alive and she's willing to help you through any mental health challenges you may have." With that, Alice hands Theo a business card.

The card reads "Dr. Melanie Dakkera, Clinical Psychologist, (phone number), (address in Oakland, CA)." It also has a website and a logo: "Mind Thrive."

Theo accepts the card “thanks. So should I call you Alice then?”

"Yes please, and sorry about that." She pauses. "Now, is there anything else you think I should know about you? For example, are you aware of anyone or anything actively trying to kill you or are you cursed? Do you think that the general public or maybe the FBI know that you take these jobs--things like that? Something that could likely get me or others into trouble too by association, if we're not careful?"

Theo thinks on this "I'm reasonably confident that I've kept my tracks covered. Besides that incident with Conrad, there shouldn't be anything that could be tied back to me by the government. There was this one incident, a while back, where my team ended up turning on the guys who hired us when the people they sent us to capture gave us a counter-offer, but I haven't seen any signs of repercussions so far"

"Understood. Thank you for sharing." Mel stops walking and grins. "Okay, you're in."

"Now let's get you set up! How would you like to access the Network? Do you want to be 'private' or 'public'? Private means I don't share your name and contact information with anyone. Basically, I would be the middle person who reaches out to you if I find someone who has something you want or know of someone who wants your services. However, public means I have your permission to pass your name and contact information on to others within the network as needed--although you can always use an alias and a burner phone."

"I'll keep things private, for now. Whole point of communicating this way is to protect us and our privacy, right?"

"Indeed. Some people in the Network are already more well-known though, and so they didn't mind being public. Now, personal issues between members in the network are the issues of the people involved--it's not my business. I'm vouching that the people in the network are well-intentioned and relatively sane, but I don't guarantee that everyone will get along or have the same end goals. Sound good so far?"

"Sounds reasonable to me."

"I doubt this will be an issue, but I do want to cover everything." Mel's expression becomes more serious. "Betrayal will not be tolerated: betrayal of me as I am hosting the Network, betrayal of the Network as a whole (if it is even possible), and betrayal of a group of co-workers while on a job if one of those co-workers is in the Network. This is for our self-preservation. That being said, I welcome recommendations for people to invite to join us--and I also welcome blacklist suggestions."

Theo nods "Absolutely, was never a question. I can think of a few people I would recommend, but I don't have most of their contact info."

"That's fine. Can you share their names--first and/or last?"

"There's this guy I met on my last job--Archie. Middle-aged, brown hair, wears glasses, dressed in business casual when I met him. Think he had an Apple Watch, too"

“Is Archie a referral?"

"Yeah. Good guy, didn't really like violence when I met him. Tried to talk down this family of crazies who were shooting at him, didn't even want to hurt them when they tossed a grenade at him. I don't necessarily agree with him, but he seems the type you'd want, and he'll probably get into trouble at some point, so it's best for him to have people he can call on for help"

"Thank you, I'll call him after this. Now... is there anyone you'd recommend I blacklist? Any accusations will be investigated--if at the very least cross-referenced."

"Apart from Conrad, no one I'd go so far as to blacklist."

"That's good news for me--I'd hope that list stays short." She pauses, figuring out the next thing on the list. "I desire to keep myself and the Network hidden. That being said, I ask that you don't generally call me or Mel. Instead, my plan is to privately contact everyone in the Network once a month to ask for updates: new requests, new goods and services to offer, and new referrals. That way the figurative message board stays current."

"That works for me, I'll make sure to keep notes for when you call."

"Perfect. Now for the fun part: what goods or services would you like to offer to trade? And what are you wanting from the Network? You're the third member, although my referral list is quite long." As she asks the question, she slides her backpack around and takes out a small black leather notebook and pen.

“I’m a good lookout and tracker. My senses are superhuman, particularly my sense of smell, and aside from that I can open any lock I can get close to, unless it’s outright magic. Found a mysterious locked chest or jewelry box or something? I’m your guy. As for what I want? Nothing in particular at the moment, but I might need some muscle in the future. I’m not any stronger or tougher than the next decently athletic guy.”

"Got it ... Oh, and no names." Alice shows Theo the shorthand notes of what he just shared on a page titled simply 'T'. This page is only several pages into the notebook. Then Alice puts pen and pad away and looks back at Theo with a smile. "I think that's everything. Thanks again for being willing to try this out with me--I hope it's beneficial for both of us."

Theo smiles back “Me too, Alice.”

"Also..." She's still grinning. "Honestly, I think you're pretty cool. I hope you feel free to talk about more than just Network stuff on our calls--and you don't mind me talking about other things as well."

“No problem. It’s been nice, connecting with people outside of a job.” Theo turns to Jason. “Been nice seeing you again, too, Jason.”

"Good seeing you too. Hopefully next time it won't involve Conrad." He says with a smile.

With that Alice goes back to Jason's side. They stand together rather closely, like they're very familiar with each other, and exchange looks--something like satisfaction from Alice and Jason just looks down at her with a smile. Then Alice looks back at Theo happily and waves: "Safe travels! Talk to you soon!" The two turn around and make their back down the path.

Theo waves goodbye, then waits on the trail for a few minutes for the others to leave, before making his own way out along a different route.

Sit Pretty

The appointed hour is 9 AM, three hours after the Dallas incident and enough time to cut and dye with her hair, with stunning, edgy results. Alice ditches her (fake) ID, conceal carry permit (tied to the fake ID), firearm, and magazine by throwing it away in a public trash can outside of the local drug store where she bought the hair dye. She also leaves behind/throws away the rest of her clothes. She puts the insane-looking leather armor into the now empty carry-on luggage and transfers the things in her backpack into a different one. She also wipes, physically breaks, and then throws away both of phones before hopping into that van that Albert coordinated--paying the driver in cash.

Two rugged men are in the mini-van. Their eyes are red, drinking last night or roused from bed early, maybe both. They look like typical, small town America, but if they were on the Dark Web, there is probably more to them than it would seem. The driver says, "Waffle House in Amarillo, right? Off Conroy avenue?"

Alice nods.

They make way for you to get in. After a short drive, you end up waiting in line as police stop every vehicle. You see police dogs as well as cops in full tactical gear, sweltering under the morning sun. Tensions are high: Texans don't like being held up, and more than a few cars are getting deep searched off to the side while red-faced drivers shout at cops cutting open car seats and prying open trunks.

By scent and heart rate, Alice notices that the two rugged men are getting nervous about the situation they're driving into. Then she calmly asks, "Do you know what you're going to say?" 

After being so quiet, her voice startles them. "Yeah, we're headed into 'Rillo, piece o' cake. Just sit pretty there and we'll be fine."

Alice internally sighs and plan her own explanation, as it will likely be needed.

They pull up, with the driver rolling down the window, "Mornin' Officer." The cop looks stern and a bit tired, brusquely demanding, "I'll need registration and ID from everyone in the vehicle. Where are you headed?"

The men move slowly, making sure to keep hands visible, "Just rollin' to Amarillo officer, get a bite at the ol' Waffle House."

Alice rolls down the window. Speaking quietly and seeming genuinely uncomfortable: "I-I'm sorry, sir, I don't have my ID on me." She feels the tension rise across in the vehicle. She almost winces as one of the drivers licks his lips nervously.

The cop looks directly at you. "Ma'am?"

"M-my name is Jen--Jennifer Williams," Alice proceeds uncomfortably. "My boyfriend and I are, um, were cosplayers--like, um, traveling actors who dressed up like superheros for kids parties and stuff. We had a job scheduled for a birthday party tonight, in Pampa. But, um, last night we got into a, uh, um, a disagreement at the motel and... uh... I--it didn't--I left with my stuff--whatever I could grab that was mine. I, um, I left him--quickly. And, like, I didn't grab all of my bags... A-and now I'm just trying to get home." Hopefully her bruised face helped support the story.

"Cosplay, eh? Well, you best get on out of here, Miss Jenny Williams. There's a killer on the loose." He barely looks at your drivers info before waving you along.

"Jenny" audibly and visibly sighs as soon as they're out of the view of the cops. And then falls asleep for the rest of the ride, exhausted. She is deposited at the Waffle House without incident, where her and her lemon car (bought by Albert) are picked up by Sherpa Auto Transport. They do this kind of thing often.

Once settled on the final leg of the journey, Alice calls him again to report how everything went well and thank him profusely.

And then she hears what she needs to hear. "Listen, I understand you like these people, but it's clear that they're getting you into more trouble than they're worth--but not only that. I can tell when someone's stopped being true to themselves, and it's clear to me that you're someone who's become used to compromising your ideals and your dreams as a matter of course. Focus in on yourself, and find your own way before getting mixed up in ensuring other people get to find theirs.” A long pause. Alice is surprised by such a coherent string of heartfelt thoughts from the paranoid hacker. “Also, don't forget to filter your water. The government's put a lot more flouride in the Detroit water than just about anywhere else." Ah, there it is.

Uncharacteristically, Alice replies with only a quiet “thank you” and then promptly hangs up.

------------------

The Call Ends

Around 8:00 PM the same night that Alice tried to "call" Jason, Mel’s phone rings. The number that shows on the caller ID is not listed in her contacts.

A familiar voice. "Yes?"

Heavy breathing. "Alice! Thank God you’re okay!"

"Is this Jason? Alice is safe--what's happening--where are you?"

Heavy breathing. "Trying to get out of Amarillo. Cops are chasing me--they have a chopper."

"Turn off the phone but keep it with you for now--this is putting us in danger. She can call you directly." The call ends.

Heavy breathing. "Ok, I doubt I have much time though."

A few minutes later, Jason receives a call even though his phone is turned off.

Heavy breathing. "Alice?"

Alice is clearly crying as she attempts to talk. "I-I'm safe--Abbas a-and Violet too--" A sob. "I tried to-to h-help you--but I ..." A sharp inhale and then a shaky whisper. "I killed you." 

Heavy breathing. "I'm not dead yet."

"N-not... Someone is coming to-to help you." Another sob. "H-hide as long as you c-can. But Mel and Keara--p-please..." Alice struggles to say the words. "Protect t-them... your phone--k-keep it as long as you can ... but d-don't let them f-find it on you.”

Heavy breathing. "Where do I meet them?" He pauses for a moment, gasping. "The chopper’s to the east and a blocked highway to the west."

"H-hide wherever you can--he'll come to you--I'll c-connect you both ..." 

"I don't know how much time I have before they catch up to me."

"Is t-there anywhere underground or underwater w-where you can hide?" 

"There's a pond not far from me but that has me heading back towards the chopper." 

"I-I can't--I don't know--I--" She's crying again and struggling to speak. "D-don't--can't ... help… I ... l-love you."

"I love you too. It's not your fault… If things go south, tell Violet that Daddy loves her."

To which Alice openly sobs once more. The tow truck driver sideeyes her for a moment. While he's heard nothing of the conversation and his passenger isn't even using her phone, she is visibly and audibly crying. It's louder over the ‘call’ though. "I-I ... will." 

"There's a small pond by some mansions that I already ran past. Maybe they won't think I'd backtrack. Can your guy get here in time?"

She takes a few shaky breaths. "Only if t-the police l-look elsewhere for a while."

"I can try for the bigger pond, it's closer, maybe if I stay under long enough they'll move on. You know I can hold my breath for a really long time."

"Y-yeah..." This plan seems to calm her down.

"Tell your guy I'll be at the pond. It's all or nothing now. No matter how this turns out it wasn't your fault. I love you Alice." With that he takes a few seconds to re-amp himself and take off for the big pond trying to avoid surveillance.

"W-which pond?"

"East of Wildcat Bluff."

"O-okay." She doesn't know if she should say goodbye. "I'm ... glad we met--I love you Jason." And the call ends.

What Friends Are For

It’s all over the news. After a four-hour pursuit, "Bruce Johnson" is apprehended by law enforcement. The next morning, he is found unconscious in his holding cell, apparently comatose. He is taken back to the local hospital for treatment.

A day later, as Alice awaits for Abbas to return with Violet to their ‘home’ in Detroit, there is a knock on the backdoor. She opens it to see two men standing in her backyard, the side gate opened. One is a Chinese man in his mid-thirties wearing a headband over his head in a chef outfit and a Caucasian middle-aged man in basic jeans and a t-shirt. The Caucasian man is holding a small Chinese takeout box, which he opens. “Here’s your husband,” he says, providing an explanation that gives Alice far more questions than answers. "Dont worry about it,” the man quickly adds. “He will be back to normal in a month.”

The Chinese man waves to Alice. "Here's Jason," he clarifies. 

Alice stands at the backdoor, looking at the men blankly for a moment, registering who exactly these people are based on their voices and what they just said. She takes the takeout box slowly, in shock, and peers inside. The frog ribbits, seeming happy to see her. Then she sets the container gently on the ground … and begins to cry as she hugs and kisses Bu Fang and Kevin Sparkles.

Kevin hugs her back. “He will be back to normal soon. He will be seen disappearing from existence, so you should be okay for a little bit.” 

Bu fang also reciprocates the hug. "Give it a month, the effect doesn't last too long. Also I saw him missing an arm. Have this." Bu fang passes her a familiar pill. 

"What can I--there's nothing--how can I ever repay you?" The young woman is clearly overjoyed and overwhelmed. She takes up the box again to look at Jason. The frog is indeed missing a front leg. 

"Join us up here and help us when we need it too. Connections never hurt. Oh also order more from my restaurant. "

“And reconsider my previous offer perhaps.”

Alice nods to Kevin. "Join us?"

Bu fang gives a bit of a shrug and looks at their ‘home’ with a face of annoyance. "Eugh, this place--can’t believe you are forced to live here…"

Alice looks down. "I don't mind... I'm just thankful that we're alive."

“Damn it, I forgot to make a Prince Charming joke,” Kevin declares.

Alice’s face gets red with embarrassment. But she quickly shakes her head, as though to shake it off, and continues to smile.

"I almost forgot!" Bu fang facepalms. "God, I really need to check if I have dementia. Contact this place--consider joining it as well." Bu fang passes over a union card to Alice. "It's a nice group. Not restrictive."

"So many networks!" She pauses and becomes pensive. "I wonder... if mine will be redundant--I've started one myself too.” And then looks down at the frog with tearful joy. "We all need to help each other." 

"Can’t really go wrong with more networks. In the end, everyone is usually around to help each other," Bu Fang replies.

“Regardless, I would consider getting him a new identity before you go on a job as well,” Kevin adds.

Alice nods, wiping her watery eyes. "I will do my best to break the curse--before going on any more jobs. And look into joining. And help whenever I can. I can't thank you two enough..." glancing at Jason "... and I know he'd say the same."

Bu Fang nods. He steps away for a moment and returns with five full-sized containers of food. "Some stuff to eat. I need to go now, but I wish you luck in your endeavor. And no worries--it’s what friends are for."

“That’s what friends are for--” Kevin smiles. “--like Bu said. But I am going to head home--haven’t seen the wife or kid in a day or so.”

"Ah, my disciples are gonna yell at me." Bu Fang says to himself with a chuckle as he leaves.

"Safe travels! We'll be in touch--but like, not over anything this, uh ... yeah..." Alice fumbles. She waves to them as they leave. Alone, woman and frog, Alice takes Jason out of the container and into their home. She just stares at him, beaming.

The frog seems very happy and nestles into Alice's hand.

She gets a sly look and then smiles and blushes. "Don't get used to this," she says as she holds the frog up to her face and kisses him on the lips. Jason’s first kiss from Alice and probably his last.

-------

Amazing Meal

A handwritten list in Alice's notepad, in her purse.

• Ask Kevin for details on bracelet
• Chat w/ Amy about curse & 'friend'
• Schedule Violet's check-up with Dr. Buckworth
• Invite Akira to Network
• Invite Daisuke to Network
• Invite Oz to the Network
• Re-thank Bu for amazing meal

-------

Up for Auction

As part of her monthly calls with members of the Network, Alice reaches out to Jason Valent.

"Hello Jason! I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to connect with you much at Bu Fang's dinner party, but I was glad to see you there." 

"Not a problem. So I am looking into my brain thing. It might work if I can get part of my memory erased or at least the event."

"Oh! Um, at the moment I can't erase memories supernaturally... what led you to believe that that might work?"

"Just an idea. Maybe an MRI machine?"

"Hm, I'll look into it and let you know."

"Thanks. Also, there is an item up for auction that I want to buy. Could I borrow $500,000 from you?”

“Um..." A long pause. "I'd have to liquidate some of my assets to try to get that much, and it would be quite a hit even if I could ... but first I have a couple of questions. What is the item, and how do I know you're able to pay me back?"

“It’s an artifact that protects you from attacks--a bunch of ants that cover your body. I have a large business and will pay you back in a month.” 

"This isn't my usual offering to the Network, but let me see what I can do. Also, let's meet in person to discuss all of your financials--both personal and business.” While Alice is no accountant, she wanted to do at least a little bit of fact-checking herself.

-------

A State of Disrepair

Jason Valent's mechanic shop in LA is filled with parts and many cars in a state of disrepair. In the back is the manager’s office where several people are testing the device. One is Jason, and there are two people who look like Allie: one with an undercut who appears physically sickly/ill and has a bruised face and one who has long slightly curly black hair and appears to be perfectly healthy. Otherwise, they wear similar fashionable greyscale clothing and are exactly the same in every other way--to the point of it being uncanny.

Terry enters wearing a doctor’s coat and slacks and carrying a medical bag. His glasses are perched atop his round nose. He smiles warmly when he sees the three of you and shakes your hands in turn.

The healthy version of Allie does not introduce herself as anyone, but the unhealthy one identifies herself as Allie.

Jason takes the time to shake Terry’s hand. “Thanks for taking the time to meet us.” 

“Hello! Nice to see you all again.” He rubs his glasses. “Am I seeing double?

"Yes, you are," the unnamed one replies with a nod but not a smile. Then she pulls out a pair of fashionable glasses that, if one is perceptive, has no prescription and puts them on, as an additional visual distinguisher.

"Indeed. I would appreciate it if you kept my sister's existence private," Allie adds with a serious tone.

“I will. I take doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously.”

"Thank you," they reply at the same time and in the same way, prompting a glance at each other.

"So do we," the nameless one adds. 

“Now then. Anything to discuss before we move on to business?”

After pleasantries, Jason sits on a dingy couch and watches a Dodgers game while eating a hot dog and then a Ho Ho as the two doctors discuss the procedure. “It’s like an experimental memory-altering process? Sounds risky and abnormal.”

The nameless sister nods slowly. "All mental health treatments come with risk, especially ones that involve changing the physical--through chemical means or otherwise. Mental health medications often have side effects, great and small, and the problem would never be actually treated. His compulsion would just be managed, possibly. Jason is seeking full treatment for a supernaturally caused mental health issue. In short, his mind was forcefully uploaded with foreign data which is the root of his otherwise untreatable compulsion. Electroconvulsive therapy is commonly used to treat severe mania and catatonia, but it has a well known side-effect--which in this case would be a main effect--of memory loss. If done properly, this treatment would be ... a forceful unload, basically.”

Chiming in, Jason says loudly over the television: “I got zapped reprogramming an alien spaceship and now I can’t stop tinkering.”

“Sounds reasonable to me. After all, folks like us do exist on the fringes of what’s considered proper. And Jason is a consenting adult who’s been apprised of the risks involved. I’d like to perform a medical examination of Jason. Then I can administer the anesthesia.”

"Of course." Allie replies, and both look at the man downing nutritionless food and a large soda.

“I’m fine, I just want this to go away. I’d rather stay awake,” Jason says.

"What?" Both therapists reply in surprise.

“Will Mel be here?” the obese man asks.

"Both of us will be here the whole time." Allie replies, looking slightly concerned.

“Alright, do your thing doc. Let me get the device upgraded real quick.“ Jason drinks a beer to calm his nerves and then a blue light surrounds him as he supernaturally upgrades the machine.

Terry pulls out a stethoscope, tiny mallet, and some tongue depressors and gives Jason an extremely simple medical examination.

After the examination, Terry proceeds to explain to the Allies and Jason: “Jason, I believe you have a seizure disorder. I may be able to cure it after doing a bit more research and observing you for a while. Until it’s gone, it could cause complications.”

"How would you cure it?" One Allie asks, eyebrow raised.

To answer her, Terry takes the Allies outside of the manager’s office for a private chat. “He hasn’t built up enough good karma for me to heal that particular issue. I’m not sure if he’s a selfless, helpful person, and there isn’t enough good will to turn his brain issue around for the moment. Informing him about that would taint his actions and make it more difficult to acquire the good karma. To do this sort of delicate cleansing, I need to believe he’s worth it. That he’s a good person. I need to see it.”

"I certainly support a fool-proof supernatural method over an experimental mundane one, to reduce risk. Having completed a psych evaluation on Jason in the past, I would agree that he isn't necessarily benevolent--fair certainly, but I haven't witnessed the kind of selfless generosity that you're describing. Let me think..." A long pause. "Having seen this demonstration of his skills, I will suggest that we use the time--while you're observing him and doing more research into his condition--to create other improved designs for popular mental health equipment. For example, EEG monitors come to mind. If he remakes one or two things with not compactness but affordability in mind, and gives the blueprints away, this could greatly increase access to mental health equipment in poorer countries. It wouldn't be his idea per say, but if he's willing to do it … does that count?"

"Certainly. I believe that my otherworldly ability to heal folks stems from my goodwill and the gratification I get helping others. For this particular sort of ailment, I really need to believe I'm helping someone who helps others. We may be able to develop a sort of test like you're describing. Something that gives him a chance to demonstrate his selflessness. But he will need to choose the wellbeing of others over himself."

The Allies chuckle. "Nice to know that we'll always be eligible," one adds with a wink (a gesture that she learned from Jason Decker). "Well, in what I've proposed, giving the machines and blueprints away for free would be forgoing a lot of financial gain, I'm thinking, for the benefit of total strangers." 

“Okay, I like this idea of yours. We can encourage him to work on medical supplies, and when he makes a valuable advancement, see if he’d be willing to give it away for the benefit of humanity."

"Sounds good. Would you like to suggest it or me?" one Allie replies as the other nods.

“I’ll suggest it. Easier to do it in a way that’ll convince me that way."

"Of course." A pause. "Your work and how you go about it are admirable."

Terry smiles bashfully. “Aw shucks, thanks. I’m just being myself and doing what I do.

Both Allies smile bigger. "Well, I appreciate who you are then," the more sickly-looking one with the undercut replies.

The care team returns, and Terry addresses Jason. “Well, Jason, I think we need a little more time to research this new treatment option for your condition. Perhaps a week or so. In the meantime, I’ve noticed you’re incredible with technology. Have you ever considered getting into the medical technology field? I’m sure you could drive some very valuable advancements.”

“I’m so grateful for any help. This has been driving me crazy. I have considered helping the medical field. Do you know something that would be helpful that I could make?”

"Well, a more compact insulin pump, advancements in MRIs or screening technologies, or cheaper ways to manufacture certain medical devices could really change a lot of people's lives. I could advise if you'd like to partner up on it while I research your condition. I mean, take this ECT machine you've been working on. Do you realize how valuable this is? I mean, giving this tech away could make a huge difference in peoples' lives. Or, you could patent it and make a bundle selling it to a medical tech company. Have you decided what you're going to do with it?"

“I’m happy to give away the device and leave the patent open for everyone. Yeah, let’s make some tech. I like the idea of a better MRI, something that is portable and can be used on the go...”

Seeing that their services are no longer needed, both Allies take their leave.

-------

The Direct Line

Issac Norton II receives a call on his Nokia phone. The caller is Dr. Melanie Dakkera, who he met a Contract four or five months past and had last seen attending his Tai Chi lessons in a San Francisco park for a few weeks after that.

"Ah, you have reached the direct line of the Emperor of the United States! How can we assist you this fine day?"

"Your Highness, this is Dr. Melanie Dakkera--although I'm going by Allie now. It is so good to hear your voice," Alice sounds genuinely relieved. "How have you been these past few months?"

"Dr Dakerra! It is of course our pleasure to hear your voice again! The past few months have been rather troubling to tell it truly. Geopolitical stability is at an all time low, & our entreaties to other heads of state have thus gone unanswered. Without such diplomacy, the future is in PERIL! Nevertheless, we remain grounded in these times by recalling that the people require poise & decorum in a sovereign; we recently passed the Bar to better serve the people, & spend much of our time building homes with Habitat for Humanity. Bah! Where are our manners: you hardly called to ask about our well-being - how can the Empire serve you today?"

"Passed the Bar--wow, congratulations! Well, I did call to ask about your well-being, one of several things I wanted to ask about. Several of my other frie--acquaintances who, uh, accept ongoing offers to, like, right what is wrong in the nation and in the world, as you and I do, in the face of dangers and mysteries and the like, they have not been doing well lately. So I'm really glad to hear that you're well, your Highness."

"My own personal situation has changed dramatically since we last talked--in some ways for the better and some ways for the worse. Concerning the good things, I have an identical twin sister now who I have given my original identity--which is why I now go by 'Allie'." Hopefully that would sufficiently encourage him to call her something different. "I've also recently gotten married to a good friend of mine, and we've adopted a precious young girl. However, she suffers from a supernatural problem that dramatically impacts her well-being, and finding a solution has been my top priority. Which brings me to another question: on our, um, mission together, you managed to near-instantly convince a man who was clearly intent on murder to be convicted of his actions--past and current. Have you ever convinced other intelligent beings who are not human to, uh, cease their violence?" 

"Are we not all human? Despite these parsings of origin - to think is to be human! The humble chicken has feelings, does it not? Sapience? It can choose to cross the road, this it can choose its own destiny! Would one then say, "This chicken - it is human!" We believe all life is precious, & that in but the natural state of things ordained by the almighty - it is true some have fallen from that path, which is when the good shepherd must nudge them back to righteous pursuit. However, this is a power we all share - the ability to shine the light of human empathy & kindness into the darkness! While it is also true that our station may lend gravitas to our words, you, a practitioner of the hallowed arts of the mysterious mind must surely find such ability within yourself!"

By her tone, Alice is clearly smiling. "I have, to a much lesser extent than you, your Highness, 'shone empathy and kindness into the darkness.' And I hope to do so even more in the future. My daughter is currently being haunted by a spirit--something like a sapient guard dog that, at the first sign of her being slighted in any way, resorts to violence. 'Slights' include not giving Violet exactly what she wants when she wants it, or another child pushing her or not sharing a toy. This makes it extremely difficult to parent her and allow her to socialize with others her age. Once I've gathered more information on the situation, would you be willing to help my husband and I tame this spirit so that Violet can have the life she deserves?" 

"Ah, well why didn't you simply say so! A spirit, no matter what it's providence, is still a citizen of our United States and must learn to embrace the 'melting pot' of equality & brotherly love upon which our nation stands! If we were able to convince the Undead of the error of their ways, we should think a spirit with such noble, of perhaps misguided intentions should see the light of reason readily."

"Thank you so much!" Thoughts of screening Emperor Norton into the Network cross Alice's mind, including how each question would likely be answered with royal enthusiasm and at least mild insanity. After a pause, she finally asks, "In the meantime, is there anything specific that you nee--that would benefit you, like, in your calling to ..." What was this man's end goal? "... to advance this great Nation and, uh, be of royal service to its citizens? I don't have much to offer, but I may know others who could help..."

"An excellent question! However, with the inexhaustible resources of America at hand, the only thing we require is that citizens such as yourself approach the world with eyes open to the beauty & joy that is the American dream! To know that, no matter one's station, anything is within the grasp of those who would strive to reach it! To approach each other with the Golden Rule firmly in heart, & reject the greed & indifference that still yet plagues us!"

"Of course! What you're asking for is something I strive for every day--and something I'm hoping to instill in my husband and daughter too. Thank you, your Majesty. I really appreciate you and what you do." As peculiar as you go about it. 

"Our heart positively glows to hear that. Congratulations on your nuptials as well, and wish your significant other our very best wishes please."

"I will! Once my life is a bit more settled, I still intend on inviting you to grace me and my family with your presence over a humble dinner. But, work before play--I'll be in touch and do take care of yourself." The call ends.

-------

Pony Form

During a monthly check-in call with Iryna to offer Bu Fang's Golden Pill for her pet lizard, Alice learned that Bu Fang had been kidnapped and subsequently rescued and also that Akira (a friend of Mark and Bu who she had seen at the dinner party who was a part of the rescue team) was now desperately in need of it instead. Alice gladly shipped the item to Dr. Buckworth, who was providing lodging to Akira while he remained stuck in his My Little Pony form.

-------

An Open Hand

Good Care

With Barbara grieving the sudden loss of her husband and now her adoptive teenage daughter, who had run off to join a group of people like her, Alice committed to visiting Mrs. Sparkles at least once a week--sometimes two. Kevin had specified in his will his desire that the Knights take good care of his family. To Mark Collins, this had meant being available if they needed the help of a famous superhero. To Bu Fang, this meant providing financial support. So Alice gave what she had to offer: mental health services and emotional support. It helped that she already had built trust with the family by treating Anna’s several phobias at Kevin's request several months earlier.

To make the 4.5 hour car rides from Detroit to Chicago easier, Barbara agreed to let her borrow Tori, a supernatural vehicle created by one of Kevin’s friends (but not a fellow Knight) which could drive itself. On these car rides, always accompanied by her frog and sometimes accompanied by Abbas and Violet, Alice made her monthly calls with those in her Network and beyond.

Several weeks later, these rides also included regular check-ins with Anna Sparkles, so that Alice could pass along updates to Barbara. Wherever Anna was staying, cell phones were not allowed--but a basic two-way radio was, and that was all Alice needed.

-------

Speak It Out

A day after the Knights returned to knock down the front door of Count Batimir's castle, Akira receives a phone call even if his phone is dead, on silent, or in a place with no reception. The caller is somehow saved in his phone as "Allie" with a profile picture of the woman that Akira has previously only ever seen with a partially covered face--her upper half via a stylish mask at the party and then her lower half via a black cloth facemask at the two-day funeral in Chicago. However, in this photo she wears no face covering, and it's clear that the half-Caucasian/half-Asian young woman is sleep deprived, dehydrated, malnourished, sickly pale, or all of the above. Nevertheless, she has a thoughtful gaze and a soft smile. 

Akira, whilst he is in his car and thinking of the outcome of their failed investigation, heard his phone ringing in his right pocket. Wondering who was calling him, he gently reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, seeing the name and seeing the face of the woman calling him. At first, he is slightly concerned about her physical state… and also pulling off a smile. But soon enough he would recognize her. So, once he sees who she is, he answers his phone. “Hello?”

"Hello Akira." A familiar voice with unusual crystal clarity, as though the West Coast woman is right there. "Do you have a moment? Is this a good time for us to chat?"

“I was about to drive off before you called, but I’m free to talk,” he said, interested that she was speaking crystal clear through the phone--no background noise, not even static. Relaxing his arms, he spoke further. “What’s up?”

"How did the raid go?" 

“Unfortunately, we were left high and dry. The Brothers wiped everything clean, aside from some statues and empty bookshelves.” Rubbing his temples and letting out a tired sigh. “But Mark handled the rest once some cleanup guys came through.” Straightening up as he picked up more strength to speak. “By the way, how did you pick up this phone? You didn’t accept my phone number when we were at Fang’s restaurant.”

"To be honest, that's sort of what I expected, but I'm sorry to hear that I was right." Alice nods at the mental image of Mark chatting it up with a bunch of strangers with a famous musician's castle in the background, essentially making a public appearance. Seems that several Knights are used to the center spotlight, albeit in different ways. 

“Yeah… I got a feeling it was a bust. We shouldn’t have waited.” Taking responsibility and nodding. His tone, the slight pauses in his speech, and his quick delivery made it clear that Akira was just tired of everything that had happened within the past few weeks.

"Oh, and I don't need a phone number to make calls. I can call anyone based on a name, alias, appearance, or scent. And our conversation is supernaturally obscured--I highly prioritize privacy." 

When Akira hears how she got his number, he thinks about it for a second. “That’s pretty smart. Don’t want anyone else dropping in on any conversations you’re having.” Making a mental note the next time she calls and imagining the usefulness of such a power, especially when you’re in a tight spot. “I’d like to ask more about that power, but I feel like we’re getting off topic about the real reason for this call.” Reiterating why she truly called him.

"Go ahead and ask. I called you for a couple of reasons, and one of them is just to get to know you a little better. It seems like we're in the same circles but always too busy to connect.”

“Yeah… you do got a point about that.” Now that Akira thought about it, aside from a few people he met throughout the Contracts, and even meeting those same Contractors multiple times like Oz, Iryna, or Jason Valent, he never had the chance to properly talk to them, barring the restaurant event. Now that he thought about it, this is the first time he ever interacted with a fellow Contractor… like an average human being. Not talking about how to go about investigating certain things, yelling out to help or attack any supernatural beings--none of that. Just normal talking. “Well, first to start off… How did you get involved in this whole Contract business? Any strange incidents? Some strange looking fellas offering you something more or the like?”

"Of course!" Alice chuckles. She expected a question about her ability, but they could start at the beginning instead. "After talking with several others, I'm getting the feeling that's how it always starts. An offer that's difficult to refuse involving payment that's hard to believe and risks that are not fully understood. Same for you, right?" 

“Well… not exactly.” Taking a moment to pause before resuming. “In my case, there was an accident I had to fix during the night, and during that moment something bad happened and I almost got killed… and then I got ‘an offer that’s difficult to refuse involving payment and undertaking risks that weren’t fully understood.’ That was an entire year ago that happened, and I went on more of these ever since… and I’m still kicking.” Akira finishes his abridged version of his entrance to the Contracts. “Gotten a lot of these… powers because of it, and, in all honesty, they’re pretty potent, and I don’t know how far these can go. Which leads me to my next question: have you gotten any other powers besides the conversational one?”

How far the cumulative power or a single power can go? Alice wonders before quickly moving on to the typical exchange of exposing information that she has come to expect for building trust with her colleagues. It helps that Akira is a friend of nearly all of her own allies: Jason Valent, Iryna, Mark, Kevin, and Bu Fang--well, was a friend of Kevin's. 

"Yes, several. I am close to mastering telekinesis, and I avoid a lot of harm--but both of those only work well so long as I don't harm others, basically following the Golden Rule. I'm also a psychologist by trade. I can heal the mind of most maladies, now quite rapidly through supernatural methods. That includes phobias, compulsions, delusions, and other things like that, although I have come across some mental health issues that are beyond my reach. Also, I'm quite good at discerning scents and heart rates--it helps me read the people I'm interacting with." 

“A psychologist, eh? That’s interesting.” Akira hummed before he closed his eyes for a bit and reopened them again. “Healing and mending traumas would do just fine right about now. Now that you mentioned it, I had a theory about these powers we’re getting as contractors… maybe it’s all linked to how we are in life? I’m a park ranger down in Texas, and throughout all of it, I gained the ability to survey 500 feet of an area about who’s there, who they are, and what kind of traps are in the area. Normally, I couldn’t do it in manmade environments and only could survey for 100 feet, but now it’s grown. I can repair just about anything with some elbow grease and wits, I can go on fighting without anything slowing me down, and I can even control creatures! Well, only one at a time. I even managed to control one black bear in the woods that was almost close to encountering a family down in the designated traveling areas.” Going on about his powers and the like. Alice might detect a hint of bruised excitement as he talks, almost forgetting the events that transpired and how it affected him.

"Impressive!" Alice listens, something she is naturally good at, and she hears what Akira says between the lines. While Alice barely knew Kevin, Akira's speech at the wake revealed how much of a loss it was to him. The castle visit was probably salt on the wound. "But I confess that I'm not surprised. Given the people you hang out with, I already know you are capable and powerful." Although the timing and weight of the compliment is strategic, she means it. What the Knights (and company) seemed to lack more than anything is clear thinking, not power. "You mentioned that healing some of your trauma might be helpful--and I know firsthand that the jobs we are sent on, and the ones we take on for ourselves, can be extremely difficult. Would you be willing to share a little more about that?" A gentle nudge. Best to see if she could get him as stable as possible first, before proceeding down the list of potentially lengthy business topics. 

“Hehe, that’s mighty kind of you, but I feel like some of the Knights and even many others I’ve seen got me beat in the combat department. Aside from my gun and sword, I don’t got any fancy fire powers… at least not yet.” Although a deep part of him feels like he needed to step up with battling other foes in the future, especially if he’s going to go on more of these Contracts, he does feel pride that, at the very least, he’s doing some things right with his powers. However, when the topic shifts to sharing the deeper aspects of his psyche, he freezes and starts to look around his environment. Even though Alice’s power is obscured, and the fact that Akira’s inside his car with no one but him, he looks around as if he is being watched. 

“Um…. I don’t… I don’t know if I want to burden you with the stuff I have. Some of the stuff I have been through is… it’s not pretty.” The first attempt of turning down her help is very much clear to Alice with the awkward pace of him talking just a while ago and freezing up for a couple seconds also being signs of bottling it in.

"It wouldn't be a burden, it would be an honor--and I never expect it to be pretty." Alice pauses before shifting to speaking in a lower, softer tone. "Hold onto the power of friendship, Akira. As Knights, we can strengthen each other in our times of need, our times of weakness. Based on your actions and the fact that Kevin made you a Knight, I know you believe in helping others as best you can. But the street runs both ways. I encourage you to allow others to help you too... because you deserve it and you being stronger makes everyone else stronger too--because we're all in this together." 

Once he hears Alice say those words, Akira takes another pause and slowly shifts the phone away. While taking another moment to slowly look around the car and check his surroundings, the thought dawns on him again… he’s never spoken to anyone about the incidents and fears he had developed over the course of his journey. Not to any therapists, his regular friends, not even to his parents. It’s been so… so very long to talk to someone about it. If there was a chance to speak it out and open up…. guess now is the time.

“O-okay… any… any particular events you want me to… t-talk about?” Of course, being that it’s his first time taking some supernatural therapy since… practically ever, he awkwardly doesn’t know how to proceed.

"Thank you for trusting me." Then Alice sighs. "My supernatural ability to heal the mind doesn't work over long distances. Would it be possible for you to travel to Detroit or shall I come to you? We can rent a hotel room or meet anywhere else that gives us privacy--wherever you'd be comfortable." 

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come to Detroit, it’s just a 2-hour flight from here. I’ll pack my things and come over as soon as possible. Just give me the deets on where to meet up.”

"Perfect. I recommend you get a room in the Marriott on 2nd Street room near Hart Plaza, Detroit. It's by the waterfront, and if it's too pricey I can repay you in cash. I don't have a functioning phone at the moment, but I'll wait for you in the center of the plaza, uh, tomorrow morning, 10 AM?" 

“Okay. The Marriott, on 2nd street, Detroit. Tomorrow morning, 10 AM. Alright--and don’t worry about the cash. I have some to spare.” Taking his time to add mental notes on what to bring and planning to schedule his flight to Detroit, hoping that there would be no delays.

Off-Track (Part 1)

Hart Plaza is an open public space consisting of metal art structures, fountains, spots of landscaped greenery, and brick and concrete. At this hour the place is mostly empty. A young woman jogs with a stroller and an older couple slowly walks along the water's edge, chatting quietly. A homeless man quickly gathers his things into a shopping cart, having overslept on a portion of the long, flat, curving concrete bench that circles the center of the area. The day is somewhat overcast with the occasional full sunlight peeking through the clouds, brightening spots of the plaza. 

A few minutes before the meeting time, Alice exits the driver's side of a black vintage Beetle with tinted windows that Akira might recognize as Kevin Sparkles’ TORI. After paying the parking meter, she walks to the center of the plaza and looks around. As per usual, Alice wears understated designer clothes in greyscale, almost fully covered from head to toe: black jeans, white blouse, gray peacoat unbuttoned, white scarf, black gloves, and brown booties. She is also wearing a cloth face mask once more and carries a small waterproof designer backpack. There is no frog on her shoulder this time. 

As Akira drives to his destination in Detroit, he takes a second to realize how even just traveling to a new location has become routine for him. Over the span of a year, he traveled to a whole variety of places--from California to Washington to Russia--and even ventured into a whole different dimension even. And through all of the wild and dangerous obstacles he faced, having a normal trip throughout another state, and not for a Contract, was refreshing. 

Akira indeed notices the TORI whilst he is looking for a parking spot near the plaza. He looks at the vehicle before finally parking and paying the meter. He would have to ask Oz later if he could build a TORI of his own or at least beef up the Toyota he has.

Once he gets outside, he looks around to see where Alice is. As befitting for a man in his occupation, the ranger wears a dark brown, short sleeved, buttoned up shirt, blue jeans with a belt, black boots, and a light, brown jacket. Where he had his aviator sunglasses in one of the pockets. Carrying around a camo-ordained backpack. Whistling a song as he entered the plaza.

Alice smells Akira before she sees him. She turns around with a smile and then waves. "Hey there, good to see you! Did you find street parking, or are you parked at the hotel?" 

Akira sees the wave and reciprocates it with a nod before briskly walking towards her and meeting her in person once again. A hint of concern forms from how frail she looks, but he didn’t want to bring it up. “Good to see you, too. I found street parking, so it wasn’t a problem for me… and sorry if I showed up a bit late. It’s actually my first time being in Detroit.” Speaking in a gentle tone.

"No worries. In two hours, when you have to feed the meter again, I'll help you download the app to do it digitally." Alice glances up at two seagulls flying high with the morning breeze for a moment before turning back to him. "I've been stuck here for about five months, so I'd say I know the area pretty well at this point," she adds casually.

“Shit, it does that?” The Ranger looks in disbelief as he rubs the back of his head with his hand. “Well, at least there’s someone digital to help me with that.” Laughing slightly as he swiveled his head to check the plaza. Eyes darting rapidly as he avoided any source of extreme light. To lighten the mood, he responds, “And at least I have a therapist and a travel guide to help me ‘long the way.” The avoidance of extreme light was enough that he was shuffling around and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

Alice notices Akira's rising discomfort immediately as he speaks, despite barely being able to smell his sweat over the smells of the plaza and the waterfront. "Of course!" She smiles and points to the hotel across the street. "Let's figure out what your parking spot number is and then head to the hotel--or is something else the matter?" His words aren't matching up with his physical tells. Is he being hunted? He didn't act like this before. Maybe it's being out in the open or a public space? Unless this is just nervousness involving therapy... she ponders. 

“N-Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just making sure the light ain’t hitting too much on my eyes. That’s all.” Wiping the sweat from his forehead once he finished talking. Once she asks for his parking spot, he simply closes his eyes and does a quick breath in and out. Calming down, he steeled himself against his fear. “I was able to get in the 16th spot, but I had to parallel park.” His heart rate slowly goes down to a regular level as he talks to Alice. The therapist is still able to see him dart his eyes in one direction, then another, and then another, as if he’s looking to see if someone is watching the both of them. 

It was enough that a public maintenance worker picking up trash nearby takes notice and walks up to them. “Excuse me, is there anything wrong?” a young man, early 20s or so, asks the pair, wondering if they are lost.

Alice steps next to Akira and gently grabs his upper arm as though they are a couple. "Oh, we were just going for a walk, but then we realized we must have left your wallet at the hotel, didn't we?" She looks to Akira expectantly, along with what she hopes will be either a comforting or a mentally disrupting squeeze on his arm. Either way works so long as he's compliant with her lead. 

As Akira opened his mouth of respond, he felt his upper arm gently grabbed by Alice, and he shifted to look. Such an unexpected act caused the ranger to widen his eyes slightly, before slowly picking up on what she was trying to do. Going along with it, he looks back at the worker in front of them and replies with, “Y-Yeah. Really should’ve checked my pockets before I left.” It did work. Noticing that focuses him; he is no longer looking around with a swiveling head.

“Ahh, okay! If you need anything, just let me know. Have a wonderful day!” With a friendly tone, the young man gets back to his work. Others in the public space could have gazed on Akira if Alice hadn’t stepped in. Then a street performer in the nearby amphitheater begins to play the flute, and attentions solidly shift.

“T-thanks.” Uttering out a word as he tries to hide his embarrassment, almost cursing to himself for acting like a bumbling fool. “Sorry for that.”

Alice keeps her position beside Akira. Her tone is low and serious. "If you can, fully close or mostly cover your eyes and follow my guiding lead to the hotel." Her grip on his arm stays firm, as firm as someone as weak as herself can be. "I promise you're going to be okay--I'm going to do my best to help you." Photophobia and maybe scopophobia. She forms a mental list as they begin the short walk. 

Akira nods and replies, “A-alright.” With that in mind, he decides to grab his sunglasses and puts them on, following her lead as they walk to the hotel. 

As they began their short walk, Akira’s immediately picks up the multitude of cars driving down the roads, some of which blazed right past as the sounds passed them by but also some blaring of horns as some drivers were either late to their destination (or sheer impatience). Almost instantly, his body tenses up. Despite this, he didn’t break his movement. He continues to follow Alice with a mostly calm demeanor, but the sweating reappears, albeit not as prominent. 

And she could smell it. "I'm assuming you don't have a room yet?" she asks quietly as they enter through the automatic glass doors into an air conditioned, well-lit, luxurious three-and-a-half-star hotel lobby. The lobby is bustling, with several people working the front desk to keep the wait times short. Quite a few people are in the seating area, probably waiting for their transportation to arrive. A few are even seated at the bar in the far back, starting their day off right. For vacationers, 10 AM is just about “go do stuff” time. 

“No, I don’t.” He quickly replied as he instantly felt the air conditioned lobby hit his skin. Breathing a quick sigh of relief as the sweat gently flew off and calmed his body. Once he heard the chatter of vacationers and conversational guests, Akira removed his sunglasses and placed them back in his shirt pocket. Looking around to take in the environment and check out what this hotel had to offer.

A receptionist handles some guests. Unfortunately, there are a couple of guests in line that are acting… out of line. Just in front of them, a couple—probably in their mid to late 40’s—are giving the receptionist—a younger woman, who seems like she was just starting out her job—is demanding her to fix something regarding a payment. The woman in question has dirty blonde, short hair, is tanned, and is slightly overweight. Her husband standing right beside her has sunglasses, a goatee, a sleeveless shirt, and shorts. He is just as tan and has a protruding gut. Despite his sunglasses blocking his eyes, his stance and demeanor projected a similarly displeased joke.

“Do you know how much we paid for this hotel room?! You should feel lucky that we even bother to come here and stay!” The young woman trys her best to accommodate and calm this guest. “Yes, ma’am. I understand, but, please, lower your voice. There are children here.” The shrillness of the guest’s voice makes Akira wince in annoyance.

Alice sighs. She releases Akira and moves into the social space of these two guests and the receptionist. "What seems to be the issue?" The well-dressed (albeit quite covered up) Pathetic therapist hoped to approach the situation authoritatively, but feeling ill made that difficult to pull it off, so instead her question simply came off as a tired inquiry by a stranger. 

The woman, in the midst of verbally tearing this poor receptionist down, stops when she hears Alice. Calming down a little bit, she resumed her tirade by saying, “This little brat messed up our payment for this hotel. I have the receipts right here, proof that she’s lying, and she should consider herself lucky I don’t call the manager and fire her ass!” There were some people that turned their heads and wondered what the commotion was all about, but considering that it was in the morning, many just turned back and went along their way, hoping that woman would just shut up.

"That is absolutely horrible!" Alice responds empathetically. "And I'm sure you have plans today, stuff to do that's much better than dealing with her," she says as she gestures to the slinking hotel employee with a gloved hand before crossing her arms. "How much are they charging you?"

The woman, in response, pulls up her phone and he exclaims, “Here! The price is right here! It’s supposed to be lower, but this lady is saying that it was the price I originally payed for!” The employee, combined with the yells of the lady and Alice’s gesture, slightly recoils.

Akira, this whole time, just looks around and observes the situation, not wanting to fuel the flames of this interaction. His darting eyes catch the eyes of the tanned lady, who looks at him and then back at Alice. “And what the hell is his problem?! You like staring at others?!” In which the ranger puts his hands up. The husband makes a half-hearted attempt to calm his wife down.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this!" Alice declares in agreement as she slips off a thin strap and swings her small designer backpack around. "It's unfair, and you should be enjoying your trip from start to finish!" And with that she offers the woman $1,000 in cash--ten $100 bills. Suddenly lowering her tone, in a dramatic contrast to how she spoke seconds before, she continues: "Your time is precious. This should make up for the discrepancy. Don't let her or this stupid hotel eat up any more of your vacation." 

The lady looks at her, taken aback by the offer, but looking at the money, she gently takes all of the cash and nods. “At least there’s some hospitality in the world. Unlike this girl over here!” And with that, she leaves. Her husband follows behind her. The chaos of that event now over as the guests continued on their day in peace, finally free from that woman’s rants and ramblings.

The receptionist, on the other hand, is not faring so well, at least emotionally, almost shrinking down and on the verge of tears from the verbal abuse that she’d taken from the lady, and also taken from Alice. Akira, once it had died down, tries to calm her down. “Hey, uhhh, miss. It’s gonna be alright… don’t worry about it.” Attempting his own use of empathetic understanding.

Alice approaches the receptionist as well with a neutral and somewhat tired expression. "I'm sure hotels keep blacklists..." she says quietly as she glances in the direction the couple walked off in. "That woman should be on it." 

Akira, once the couple was out of sight, and hearing Alice say they should be part of a blacklist, he replies, in a straight face, and with a gentle voice, “Oh, yeah. She’s a fucking bitch. I would’ve taken a swing to shut her the fuck up if I was the manager. With no hesitation.” Combined with his earlier attempts of comfort, this bluntness shocks the young girl. “U-Um… Sir? Ma’am?” Unsure on how to proceed with such a flurry of events happening so suddenly.

"He's being metaphorical," Alice says dryly. "And he'd like to rent a room for two nights." With that set up, Alice looks Akira in the eyes--possibly conveying a silent please just rent a damn room--before slipping her backpack all the way off to hold it like a regular purse and finding an open seat in the lobby. She watches the variety of guests but primarily keeps an eye on her soon-to-be-patient. 

Akira looks back to Alice and gets the message. He looks back at the receptionist and sighs, “Yeah… renting a room for two nights, please, for me only.” In which the young woman quickly refocused on her tasks and nodded, “Y-Yes, sir.” He puts his card on file. The woman then hands Akira two key cards to the room, “Right this way, sir.” Following her, Akira looked back at Alice and motioned her to follow, calming down as he sighs.

Alice follows Akira and the woman to the fourth floor, down the hall, and around a corner until at last they arrive. She should have brought obvious luggage--like a roller bag or something--to make this look more natural. Although, after all the attention that guest caused and Alice's intervention, it was a moot point: they would be remembered at the very least by this woman (who is clearly looking for any excuse to get away from the front desk).

Soon the receptionist leaves them and the hotel room door clicks shut. The interior is familiar to Alice, as this is the same hotel where she tried to treat Jason Valent’s mental health issue. To her sensitive nose, the space smells powerfully of stale air and cleaning agents with hints of expensive perfume. "Nothing to worry about," Alice says quietly, mostly to herself, as she walks across the room and takes a seat on one end of the couch, crossing her legs. 

As soon as they enter the room, Akira places his backpack on the tables and checks the room out, smelling the variety of artificial aromas that are present. After he stands there for a moment, he then looks at Alice and the couch. Slowly walking towards it and sitting on the other end: “Well, at least that’s over with.” Talking of the situation before to break any sort of awkward silence that was previously there. No extreme sources of light in the room… so far. The ranger slowly looks around a second time before looking back at Alice.

Alice sighs as she takes off her mask, gloves, and finally her brown leather booties--crossing her legs under her. Leaning back against a non-removable throw pillow, the woman seems weary yet increasingly comfy. However, she keeps the unbuttoned peacoat on since the room is a bit cold. Her undercut bob haircut has purple-dyed tips, a style that doesn't at all align with her more formal monochrome fashion. "If I had a working identity, I would have reserved the room for us in advance," she says as she looks out the window at the river and the urbanscape. 

As Akira gets a bit comfortable, he decides to look into his phone to check the usual—weather, emails, etc.—and respond to some messages, mainly to the few, regular friends he has, and to his mother. Whilst he finishes up, he perks up on what Alice said and he responds, “Why don’t you have a working identity?” Putting his phone aside and focusing on her. “Did something happen?” Concern slowly forming in his tone.

Alice looks back at him with a grin. Since Akira's only seen her at a distance at the dinner party (where she was mostly nervous) and then the funeral (where she was either serious or annoyed), this is probably the first time he's seen such a playful expression on her. "Something did happen...  You know that manhunt that you and Mark went on in Texas--which also involved a suspect at a hospital in Amarillo vanishing?" 

Seeing Alice’s more playful expression makes the ranger a little surprised. And when she brings up the manhunt that he volunteered for with Mark, he is even more surprised that she even knew it was him, considering that he was an unknown ranger. “Yeah… a couple months back. That man was holed up in an abandoned mine, and me and Mark went in to take him in. Why’d ya ask?” Even though he went unnoticed by the rest of the media, he gently lifts his lips in a small smile, knowing that at least someone acknowledged the event.

Alice pulls a full collapsible water bottle out of her backpack as she answers: "Because the person you both were hunting was a criminal that my husband and I and one other Contractor were hired to transfer from Pampa to Amarillo--and the job went horribly wrong." She takes a drink before explaining. "The other Contractor turned on us mid-job. There was a shootout on the side of the freeway that ended up with the Pampa sheriff and deputy dead, Jason's arm blown off, and... uh..." Her brow furrows and her speech slows down as she looks past Akira, re-seeing and smelling the memories. Burning flesh and anguished yelling in the deputy's last moments of life. Overwhelming panic as Jason bled in her arms. "... and, um, me fleeing from the scene, like, in a car, uh, with the t-traitor and the criminal." 

Off-Track (Part 2)

When Alice talks about how she and other contractors were originally tasked to transport that criminal in a previous contract, Akira’s eyes widen in shock, “No frickin’ way… “ And now his entire body turned to face her, fully focused on the rest of her story. The fact that another contractor betrayed her was another shock that had the Ranger’s jaw drop slightly. He did have an incident where a fellow contractor he was with went crazy and ran off on their own… and they suffered a horrible fate. If there were similar incidents of contractors betraying one another, what would happen if one betrays him in the future?

“Wait… Jason? You in the car with the traitor and the criminal? What happened after that?” Looking more intensely as, all this time, the criminal that he and Mark apprehended was involved in something much bigger in scale.

The Pathetic woman pushes on, eyes now closed tightly and arms crossed. "T-they were, uh, heading to a hideout where some of his buddies were... I knew I was kidnapping material, so I jumped out of the vehicle when it slowed for a turn through Pampa--and then the Contractor--he almost shot me in the back as I ran." She takes in a slow deep breath and then exhales just as slowly before opening her eyes to and looking back at Akira--a determined gaze. Her tone is a warning: "I will never be that helpless again." 

Hearing her finish what happened, and her final sentence, softened his gaze and nodded to her, “That’s good.” Commending her dedication to do better. Even if the situation was dire, and even if she almost died from getting shot in the back, she still found a way to escape and live another day. “You’re a goddamn survivor, I’ll tell ya what.” Further complimenting her resilience. Though, he did wonder who the contractor that betrayed both Jason and Alice were. Were they a secret accomplice to the criminal? Was it to save their own skin? “Jason…” the name dawned on him for a second. Placing a hand under his chin and thinking hard. There were only two Jasons that he met during the contract. He already knew Jason Valent well enough, but he couldn’t put his other finger on Jason… until he realized who it was he asked her, “That other guy… was his last name Decker or something like that?”

Alice nods. "Yes, Jason Deck--" And then it dawns on her. "--not Valent! Oh god, no!" She shifts from seriousness to laughter, more than willing to replace the visual of that traitor cocking his revolver as he prepared to kill her with an image of an obese Dodger fan in a tux standing at the altar for their fake wedding photos. "Decker--ex-military!" Alice insists between laughs. A long moment later, as she wipes the tears out of her eyes, she adds, still smiling, "It's a marriage of convenience--a cover story for adopting a possessed child we both found... but he..." She begins to mindlessly fiddle with her simple, silver wedding ring that was previously hidden under her glove. "... he, uh, is like my best friend."

“Alright alright alright! Sorry.” Putting his hands up and blushed in embarrassment. The thought of her being with Jason Valent sent goosebumps down his spine. Not that he had any problem with Valent himself, though it would’ve been out of the ordinary. He was relieved that Decker was still alive after their stint in Russia, though. “Alright. The ex-military guy.” But another fact that surprised him was that he and Alice were married. One that calmed the Ranger down and fixed his posture. His eyes looking at the ring and formed a smile. Even if she said that it was a cover up/out of convenience, it was good to know that they got along well. “Well, I’ll be damned… That son of a bitch got hitched. It’s been a while since we met, now that I think about it. How is he?”

Alice chuckles. "Well, Bu and Kevin had to rescue him from the hospital after his solo escape attempt--with nearly all of Texas hunting him--failed. And to do that they temporarily turned him into a frog..." Which would explain her shoulder amphibian (which currently she didn't have with her).

“Oh, shit. He got turned into a frog?” Another surprise that took the ranger off guard, though he sympathized with his predicament. Considering he was also turned from a human into an animal. “Well, at least it was temporary.” Relieved that Decker wasn’t cursed to be an amphibian for all of eternity… not unlike the glorious nature of a noble pony and steed.

"Bu Fang said it would wear off in a month, and we're right about there--any day now." Alice takes another sip from her water bottle. "And from all that mess, both of our identities are trashed, at least, we think so. Hard to know exactly... If I could call up the FBI and casually ask them if we're suspects and wanted for questioning, I would. But one clear giveaway is that an FBI agent--coincidentally also a Contractor--showed up at our apartment in Detroit and almost took our child away the same day Jason was questioned in the hospital.” Alice frowns as she shuts her eyes. "I tried to tell him he didn't know what he was getting into, but he didn't listen. And then he triggered my daughter, who's demon possessed... and the demon killed him."

“Jesus, another contractor died? And your kid is possessed by a demon?” Just as if the revelations before weren’t enough, more events of a contractor getting killed and the supernatural being involved is absolutely pushing it. “Well, sucks for him, I guess… I might’ve heard that name before.” Thinking about the name of who died, “Dallas… I think that was his name. I’m guessing he wanted the child because she was supernatural, and he was a hunter of sorts?” Trying to guess the motivation.

"Dallas--yes. Actually, I'm pretty sure he was going to take her into custody to then easily arrest Jason and I--to force us to turn ourselves in--since we are suspects in the Texas case," Alice answers. "Which is why, at the moment, I'm pretty sure we have no working identities." Bringing the topic full circle. "But, we didn't come here to talk all about me, did we?" She smiles slightly as she looks back at Akira.

“Well, that would’ve been a helluva lot worse if he actually succeeded, but I’m glad it didn’t.” Breaking out a chuckle as the thought of a demonic child ripping through an FBI agent was morbidly humorous to him. “Sucks to be Dallas, then.“ He didn’t know the man, and he frankly didn’t care. “Though, I hope you guys aren’t getting into more trouble.” Though with the nature of the contract, it was nigh impossible to avoid it. But when they went back full circle to talk about Akira now, the ranger nods and hesitates, “Oh… yeah. I kinda forgot about that, hehe.”

"You said I could help you with a few mental health things... So far, I've noticed bright lights make you very uncomfortable. Are you also uncomfortable around fast-moving vehicles--or is it all fast moving things?"

“Bright lights and… vehicles.” Akira took a few moments to contemplate on his thoughts, though he elaborated on the former, “Y’see.. the bright lights. They were the result of a contract I was in… a few other people, and one you might know, Oz. We were sent to investigate some sort of… supernatural phenomena during midnight.” Taking a few seconds to pause before resuming, “There were…. There were these creatures… and one of them exploded in my face…. Powder got in my lungs. Just a few seconds later, I was starting to getting voices in my head and… the nightcrawler… the source of light…. It was all so dark and… and loud.” Slowly devolving into muttering as Akira placed his hand and rubbed his forehead to calm himself. Shaking his head and repeating the words, “Nightcrawler… nightcrawler.”

Akira feels a light tap on his shoulder despite Alice being at the other end of the couch and not moving a muscle. "Akira..." the therapist says softly. "... look at me." If he does, he'll see that Alice's eyes briefly have a silver glow and then they are back to normal. In addition, she now has a very faint, silver, ethereal halo around her head--a shifting supernatural circlet. At the same time, a very visible black ethereal halo appears around Akira's head, although he wouldn't know unless he looked in a mirror because it feels weightless. "Breathe," Alice instructs. "Slowly in, deep, and slowly out... again ... one more time... okay, let's take this one thing at a time-- one thing a day. And let's start with the lights."

To say the thoughts were overwhelming was an understatement. As the events during that fateful night played in his mind, the thoughts slowly but surely assaulted his psyche. Hushed whispers and exclamations attacked him mentally. Words like, “She’s planning to kill you,” and “She will sacrifice you to the nightcrawler” dominated him, almost as if to entrap him in a sea of paranoia and despair. The ranger feels the tap, and his attention shifts back to Alice. Seeing her eyes glow for a brief moment had him perplexed, but it was soon replaced in concealed awe, as a halo appeared floating above her head. The color and appearing what seemed to be from thin air made the ranger… calm down. Following Alice’s instruction to the letter, he started to slowly breathe in and out. Doing so once more to refocus. “”Alright… Alright. One at a time…” Closing his eyes and sending the thoughts receding ever so slowly. Now, with a sharpened look in his eyes, he began to talk to Alice about the event in clear and detailed fashion, with a degree of lucidity that he didn’t even know he had. Slowly, he felt more at ease as he talked, and, soon enough, his posture relaxed once more.

The two Contractors meet in the Marriott hotel to discuss Akira's several traumas--his life before gaining them, the details of the events when he gained them, and how they've each impacted his life since then--for a long, tiring eight hours each day. As each day comes to a close, Alice's faint silver halo becomes vibrant and nearly tangible, while Akira's dark halo fades away into almost nothing. Right as they approach the final minutes of the session, he feels a firm tug on his mind and then a release, the removal of one of the weights oppressing his mind as though they had been digging around it for hours and then it finally was yanked out. On the second day, this doesn't happen and so they spend two days discussing his fear of fast moving objects. But then, on the third day, he's free of it. Then they move on to the topic of skinwalkers.

Each day includes several breaks for lunch and walks. Alice seems to know the area, but she doesn't order anything for herself--explaining the first day that she has digestive issues. Instead, she sticks with whatever's in her water bottle and roasted almond snacks. This lasts for four days total. During the breaks, when they're not peacefully quiet and all talked out, Alice shares about her life. She does this supernaturally, by giving Akira AirPods and then telepathically calling him. Yet all Akira sees is Alice breathing deeply and looking a bit less attentive to her surroundings as they walk the area--and, if they're sitting, she closes her eyes.

On the first day, she talks about how she and Jason Decker became cursed while exploring (and nearly dying) in a haunted location in Detroit about 15 minutes away as part of a job. The effects of the curse are serious: feeling ill for as long as they're outside of the location and increasing health problems (to the point of death at Day 5) for every day they haven't slept there. She talks about Jason. Before turning into a frog, he was training her to use a handgun and basic self-defense. He also drives her crazy, constantly teasing her and feeding Violet junk food. However, he is tidy, he genuinely cares about Violet, and he watched over the two girls as they slept in the haunted location (as he doesn't need to sleep much and the place has monsters--a job which she's now struggling to do). From the way Alice talks about him, they may sound to Akira like two contentious, loving siblings.

On the second day, Alice shares how Jason and her, while exploring the haunted location--which is sort of a dimension of its own--found a starving, dirty, neglected 4-year-old girl who was playing with a demon. Alice promptly stole (or rescued, depending on one's perspective) the child, and all three fled. Then Jason and her set up fake IDs with the help of a friend, they got an apartment together (where they hang out during the day), and they "got married"--all to have a cover story for having the little girl as they figured out what to do with her. It turned out that the demon they took Violet from had been caring for her in its own way by feeding her bugs, dead animals, and forage and by protecting her from harm. In exchange, however, it fed on her lifeforce and had supernatural ties to her mind that caused Violet incurable anxiety as she worried about where her "friend" went. Eventually, when Dallas Smith tried to take the toddler away, the demon re-found its host and fiercely defended her. Now it lives hidden in her shadow, a constant threat if Jason and Alice fail to meet the little girl's needs (and possibly her wants).

On the third day, Alice shares how she's been working on networking to not only help her and Jason with their problems, but also to help other Contractors find the help they need while also maintaining their privacy. The key is making confidential calls with everyone in the Network at least once a month and then playing matchmaker between the goods and services offered and the goods and services desired. Everyone is psychologically screened by Alice herself before gaining "membership" so that the malicious and unstable ones stay out. She's also forming a blacklist of untrustworthy Contractors based on the experiences of the people in her Network. Alice then invites Akira to the Network if he's willing to stay one extra day to do the screening. 

Slowly, but surely, Akira would feel his mind getting lighter and lighter. At first, he thought that it was headaches. A culmination of both stress and anxiety caused on opening up to his traumas to someone—albeit one he’s familiar with and considers a good friend—whom he met a handful of times. But when he was finally onto the final topic of his trauma, his fear of skinwalkers and the like, he finally felt the last, tiring chain on his psyche broken. No longer does he have any discomfort when discussing those cryptids, no urge to dodge out of the way from any fast moving car, and extremely bright lights were back to a bearable annoyance rather than a fight or flight response. 

Even if the trip lasted longer than he expected, and underestimating the sheer length their talks went through, it was definitely well worth the length. Given how, in the end, it was always nice talking to someone he felt confident to confide in… doubly so as they shared some of the same circumstances of being a contractor. Listening to how Alice and Decker interacted with each other, the origins of their 4-year-old, the unfortunate curse that Deckers gained, and how they take care and tend to their child, and still having a relatively decent (by his knowledge and what he interpreted) living situation, made the ranger happy. Knowing that one of his fellow contractors is happy with his pseudo-family and did not suffer the fate as Dallas or any of the other contractors that Akira has known. And when she talked about the Network and asked if he would like to stay another day to get screened and get into the network, Akira accepted it wholeheartedly.

After being reminded, Akira shareed how Kevin Sparkle's Friendship Bracelet works in detail. Alice gasped and laughed when she learned that all clothing worn tears off upon transforming--meaning that you revert back to your human form naked. It is at this point she mentioned that she is the one who provided one of Bu Fang's Golden Pills to Akira, having heard of his semi-permanent My Little Pony form from Iryna (who is in the Network). It seems these two's stories have intertwined more than Akira originally realized.

As Alice told her story, Akira couldn’t help but feel compelled to share some bits of his life as well. Mainly as he felt like it would be sort of a dick move for her to share all of this information about her situation and relationships and basically for him to share nothing in return. As well as being the one to basically save him from being a pony for the rest of life in the aftermath of saving Bu Fang in Castle Batamir. Throughout the days, he gave little tidbits on his life before his exposure to the Contract.

On Day 2 he talked about his parents, where they both met in a UN refugee camp during the early 70’s. His father was a mercenary that fought in the Vietnam War, whilst his mother fled communist Mongolia due to religious persecution. Eventually sailing on boat en-route to America in hopes of a better life, in spite of its immense danger involving pirates and the vast distances. It was so bad that, when his father told him of the story, there were about 40 to 50 people by the time they left. When they arrived in America on shore, only 10 of them were still alive. Despite having limited English skills, and basically arriving to the U.S. with nothing but in their clothes, they feared that the both of them would live in squalor, but they were eventually taken in by a large, but closely knit community in Dallas, Texas. Primarily by a man named Desmond Strauss; a Vietnam veteran. Which, with all of their heart and resources, helped Akira’s parents to get them on track and start a new life. Eventually starting their own successful restaurant business, buying a new house, and eventually, in 1996, had a son named Akira Han.

On the third day, Akira talked about his early childhood. Where the ranger opened up on the various hardships he and parents faced growing up. Due to their ethnicity, he was stereotyped for his eyes and height, and more often than not, got called Chinaman from some racist bum or a student trying to get a rise out of him. The most damning of which was always having the looming feeling that he was treated as somewhat of an outsider, despite being born here. Alice would note the casual tone Akira talks in, like it was just something he was used to. Despite the discrimination and racism, his overall childhood was… peaceful. His parents loved him dearly, the community cared and helped him with whatever he needed, he was doing good in school, and he got immersed in classic southern culture. About his love in Clint Eastwood movies, Johnny Cash, and the overall image of the rugged cowboy.

Another thing that Alice would note was how Akira would talk about the man that took his parents in: Desmond Strauss. Talking about him like he was like another father to him. And he went into detail on how he was the one that helped him and his parents integrate with American Culture, both in a grand and personal sense. Especially in teaching him how to shoot guns, learn the important history of Texas, and talking about his time during Vietnam. But most importantly, was the fact that he stood up for Akira and his parents when they literally had nothing, and when all of those assholes spewed hatred and anger, he fought back just as hard to keep them safe.

However, as time went on, he opened up about how, during the COVID era, his parents had to leave Texas as they received death threats, harassment, and even an attack from an unknown assailant for “spreading the virus” to the population. Fearing that the next attack would be the one that’ll end their lives, his parents begged him to go with them, but Akira was adamant and, in his stubbornness, refused. Seeing as it was a sign to all of the people that hurt him, discriminated against him, and made fun of him that he gave him… that he didn’t deserve to live here. So, he stayed in Texas, whilst his parents moved to upstate Michigan, as they managed to start up a new business and live comfortably. Where he still talks to them when he has the chance. His tone whilst speaking of all this changed from a fond happiness, to a more bitter, confused voice. Almost wondering what he or his parents ever did to deserve any of this hatred.

Afterward all of that, he didn’t really say much. A bit troubled as he basically vented to Alice about his life and apologized to her for dumping his story onto her, feeling ashamed that he let an outburst of emotion when he should’ve been professional. 

"No need to apologize, Akira. We're friends, remember?" Once again, Alice sits on one end of the couch with gloves, mask, and shoes off and legs crossed, leaning back comfortably. Every day that they met, including today, she continues wearing fashionable, expensive clothing. Today it's high-rise white canvas pants, a gray crop top, and a black wrap that hangs loosely over that.

It's the morning of the fifth day, their last day together of this particular endeavor. The hotel room feels familiar now. On the coffee table is a plate of what remains of Akira's continental breakfast and a now empty mug of black coffee. And Alice's reusable water bottle.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” Sitting on the other side of the couch. Now wearing some jeans and a crew neck black shirt. For the past five days, his mental state’s doing much better than before. Further cementing the prowess of Alice’s therapeutic abilities, now feeling more and more like his regular self. 

"So, let's get you into the Network then." Alice smiles. "You're a Texas park ranger and a Contractor--and sometimes you join the other Knights on their ... shenanigans. Is there anything else that you do in your free time?" 

When the day came of integrating with the Network, Akira laid out any information that she needed. “Yeah, a national park ranger in the Big Bend National Park. In my free time, I like to watch Clint Eastwood movies, go to the gun range, plant trees, and enjoy the outside. If you’re looking for any major scars to heal, I can provide it for you. It can take a while, but I can heal just about anything from broken limbs, lost fingers, and fatal lacerations. But everytime I use it, it takes a lot outta me… so don’t get hurt too often, heh. And if you need an extra gun or swordsman to protect, you know where to find me.” 

"Nice, my dad loves Clint Eastwood movies." Alice then nods at Akira's offerings, writing them down in a small black leather journal. "That's pretty incredible, I have to say. The thing that people have asked for the most is that kind of healing, including Jason." She pauses and then chuckles. "Both Jasons actually--seems like a Jason curse!" After taking another drink from her water bottle, Alice continues. "I'm sure you'll be in high demand, so consider pacing yourself... and consider getting something out of all of your efforts, okay?" Indeed, Alice charged Akira nothing for her own healing services upfront, only the promise that someday she would call on him for help of some kind and, if he considered the request to be reasonable, he would do so. "I'll keep the protection services in mind, thank you. Is that offer available to everyone in the Network for the right price and in the right situation, or for friends only?" 

“Yeah. Comes in very handy whenever you sever a limb or some lasting nerve damage, but hopefully it never comes to that for any other contractors in the Network, heh.” When talking about Jason, Akira concurred as he took a sip of his iced tea, “Yeah, those two took some nasty beatings when I worked with them, so I’m glad at least one of my abilities mitigates the long wait times and expenses at the hospital.” He continues after Alice encourages him to consider potential awards for his services to the others, “I’ll... keep that in mind.” Now contemplating on the future and his relationship with the contractors. After countless Contracts and assisting in a variety of tasks, he did like the idea of getting compensated for his future services. “It’ll be available to everyone in the Network. I want to help around as best as I can with others, and not just to people I already know. Also, it’ll help me understand and build some friendly relationships with all of the other contractors as well, if they’re also up to it.”

"Got it. Okay, next question. You already shared the circumstances around you accepting your first job--you were in a serious bind and a harbinger made you an offer. But why do you keep accepting the jobs now, when you understand the risks just as much as the payments?"

“Why do I keep accepting it?” Akira takes a moment to answer. Closing his eyes to gather his thoughts and remembering every contract he went on up until this point. His interaction with his fellow contractors, and a good handful that became friends, his life being saved from the harbinger, and the same one who, in many ways, kickstarted his journey and so many others. 

Opening his eyes again to look at Alice. “It’s… because it gave me a way to… I guess you can say prove myself. To prove to everyone that ridiculed me, shamed me and my parents, and the ones that I can do some good in the world. With the environment, my loved ones, and, if I get far enough, help the entire world… the entirety of nature and all to those who inhabit it.” Taking a moment to stop and gather his thoughts once more before continuing. “Who knows. Maybe throughout my journey, I might get killed, either through an unlucky situation, an enemy that got the jump one, another contractor with ulterior motives that wants me gone… or even getting myself killed for my own decisions. But even if I fall… I’m gonna go out on my own terms. Even so, I… I made it this far… I’m going to do everything I can to help out as best as I can. I know I might fail, but hell… I know I must try, right?”

Alice silently looks Akira in the eyes for an awkwardly long moment, her expression pensive, and then she strays from the Network screening script. "You are enough just as you are, Akira. If the people out there can't see your inherent value--apart from what you can do--then that's their fault and their loss." A pause. "If you're really aiming to do good in the world for as long as possible, then be sure to prioritize yourself too. I encourage you to invest in doing what it takes for you to stay alive and well just as much as you're dedicated to helping others... because we are no use to anyone dead. And I encourage you to think about when you'll feel done taking these jobs... because I have a feeling that the longer we go, the harder they get. In other words, think about what point you might be 'enough' ... for yourself." 

Akira sat through the silence and looked away for a bit. Not really used to having these long bouts of not talking. He was about to say something before Alice spoke up, and he promptly listened. Taking in her words and encouraging him to look after himself on these jobs and helping others. Which he appreciated and nodded in response. And most importantly, she was right. Not just with health, but the progressively lethal contracts. Aside from the first one or two contracts he went on, his journey has been a manageably easy one, but taking more and more of these jobs have put Akira on death’s door more times than he was comfortable with. Hell, the last few had him almost dead and/or horribly maimed. 

“I’ll... I’ll try my best.” Clearing his voice and responding to her. Especially with prioritizing his duty to stay alive and, hopefully, gain the power to fight more effectively.

Alice sighs and then looks back at Akira with a slight smile. "And this is why it's not recommended that your therapist also be your friend." 

Akira lowered his head and began to chuckle. “Yeah… but it definitely helps.”

She shakes her head a little before continuing. "Thanks for hearing me out. Okay, next question. What would you say your personal or, like, moral limits are on these jobs? In other words, what lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?" 

Nodding in response to her thanking him for listening to her. When limits came up, Akira answered quickly, “Biggest limits are harming any animal on the job except for self defense, and the other is doing everything I can to not harm a kid. If they’re not related to the job, I won’t lay a finger on them.”

Alice, who was taking notes, looks up when Akira says the disclaimer at the end. "Thank you for sharing. Now for a slightly harder question: what is your biggest regret, like maybe something you did wrong or you didn't do but you now wish you did on one of these jobs?"

“My biggest regret.” Taking the moment to think. It only took him a couple seconds before opening up to Alice, and one regret that, unfortunately, is far too recent. “My biggest regret is not being there to intervene during our trip to Castle Batamir… for not calling the bluff that it wasn’t the real Batamir and taking the charge to end him right there and then. We saved Bu Fang and Iryna’s lizard but because I stayed in Preston’s… dimensional bag because of my injuries, that fake Batamir and his cult members went to Kevin’s house and…. And…“ Stopping right there and taking a breath. “He died because I didn’t take action… that’s my biggest regret.”

Alice closes her eyes as she listens, and her brow furrows a bit. Then she looks at Akira with a mix of sorrow and compassion. "You and Bu carry the guilt of Kevin's death... yet from what little I know, Kevin was a powerful man. I don't know all the details of what happened the day he died, but he somehow took down the fake Count on his way out, and I'm sure that was his final act of love towards his friends. He loved you, and I'm confident he wouldn't want you to live with this guilt. His death... it's an immeasurable loss." She speaks gently from her heart. "It's good and right to grieve." Alice sighs. "At the same time, I see Bu... I see that the guilt is breaking him, poisoning his mind and heart. Maybe he thinks it will make him stronger, but I fear it will actually make him weaker by clouding his judgment. So I'll tell you the same thing I'm planning on telling him: I encourage you to recognize that Kevin Sparkles was not solely a victim to the Brothers of Blood and the actions--or inactions--of his friends. I encourage you to believe in his power and agency--that the fearless, selfless leader of the Knights of Equestria died on his own terms. And when you hear an inner voice accusing you of his death, recognize that that isn't Kevin's voice. I'm confident that he would never want you to bear that ... because he loves you."

All Akira could do from that point on was just look down at his coffee and listen to Alice. Although her words and the affirmation that Kevin died for the noble cause of eliminating the false Batamir and diluted the threat of the cult comforted him, he couldn’t help but think of the variety of situations that could occur because of that, or that another false Batamir could rise up and usurp the position. Leading to the reunion of said cult and continuing wrecking havoc.

That being said, he eventually shook his head to deter those thoughts. Especially when the name of Bu Fang came into play. Alice was right that the guilt that Bu had was breaking him. Seeing him at the funeral, all despondent from their friend’s death, was equally worrying. He was considering the option of calling him after the screening was done to check up on him and see how he’s doing.

The last words that Alice said was enough for the ranger to soothe his future worries and pull him out of a potential depressive state. “Yeah… I just hope wherever he is, he’s enjoying it to the fullest. And hope that his wife and… and Anna are doing fine.” He hadn’t talked to Barbara at all, after the funeral. And his last known knowledge of Anna was with the Werecreature State.

Alice nods. "Barbara is working through the stages of grief. It will take some time. I've committed to doing a house call at least once a week--two to start off. That's why I'm borrowing Kevin’s TORI. I don't like to drive and, uh, as a frog Jason can't drive me around at the moment..." 

“That’s good. TORI always do come in handy with that self-driving feature.” They both take a conversational pause to enjoy their drinks before continuing.

"It’s been invaluable. I also intend on calling Anna regularly when and if she gets a device on her--she left her phone behind when she ran off. If I called, I'm assuming she'd pick up to let me check on her and pass on how she's doing to Barbara because I am, in fact, Anna's therapist." 

Akira takes more solace in the fact that Anna also has Alice as her therapist. “That’s also good. I just hope they’re treating her well. She’s a sweet girl once she got over her fear.” Thinking of the time where he and the others first met her, and the absolute fustercluck that happened throughout. “At least she got you to help her out, too. The people who took her in are okay, but hopefully I get the chance to see her again. She didn’t deserve any of this.” His tone shifted to a slightly more concerned tone. Through the few times he visited her, he always viewed Anna as a sort of niece.

"It's an honor to help the family,” Alice says. “And I agree--she didn't deserve any of it ... I think Anna is looking for her place in life, more than someone usually is at her age. And we'll do our best to support her in her search." 

“Alright. And let me know if you find any more leads on her. Maybe I could help and make sure she’s okay.”

Alice nods. "Someone else is getting involved as well--Daisuke. He's waiting to hear back from the organization that Anna joined, something about helping her do monthly home visits when she's ready. I'll be sure to keep you posted."

“Daisuke? Well… that’s… alright.” Leaving it to rest and nodding to Alice, “Thank you.” 

"Let's get the screening done. Last question: is there anything else you think I should know about you? Tracked by the FBI, someone trying to kill you, or maybe cursed?" She grins. "You know, something that could maybe get people who collaborate with you into trouble?" Technically it's a bit late to ask about the FBI thing, as they have already spent four days together. She did ask Akira to turn off his phone during their first break on the first day, to reduce their trackability (and she had no phone to turn off). She also figured that him helping Mark with the Texas manhunt was a good indicator that his identity was in the clear. Still, the question is relevant for protecting the other members of her Network--at least, the future ones she's planning on adding who Akira won't know personally. 

Once she got to the last question, Akira took less time to answer than the others. As if he was waiting for the time that it popped up, “Well, unfortunately, there is a… group that’s ‘expecting’ me when I get back to the Big Bend.” In which Akira went into detail. Basically summarizing his encounter with the Bigfoot hunting group, and, through his own foolishness and falsely promising them the location of the Bigfoot, now intend to find Akira and force him to unveil the Bigfoot’s true location. “Me, Iryna, and another contractor that was with us, Vergil Arrior, encountered during my time on trying to free the Bigfoot. Luckily, they don’t know about the Network, and they don’t suspect I’m a supernatural. And they don’t have supernatural powers on their own… but they’re heavily armed. And I’m afraid they might do everything they can to track it down. Even though it’s gone.”

After listening to the situation, Alice clarifies: "So, you know where the Bigfoot lives, and a group of armed people want you to deliver on your deal of sharing the information, and they are continuously hunting it? And is the Bigfoot currently free or captured?" 

“Yes, I do know where it lives. And yes, I guess the group are on the lookout for it. It was my fault. I fumbled the situation and thought it was done and over, but I underestimated them. And the Bigfoot is freed, thankfully. I haven’t set in the place where they originally presided.”

"Got it. Do you have any thoughts on how to handle this?" Alice asks gently, trying not to imply anything negative if he didn't have a clue.

“A couple ways… either proving to them that I trekked all around the national park and record the entire day and prove that the Bigfoot isn’t there… or I could just tell them to fuck off and/or write a report… or I can call up some friends and track them to see if they mess up, do anything to suspect they might harm me or do harm to any werecreature, I could have them…” Stopping for a bit before sighing. “I… don’t want to kill them. That’s a last resort. And that leaves a whole ‘nother can of worms if I do that. If any agency or FBI suspects it and gets me, and if they go through and find some way to know who you, Jason, Iryna, and the others who they are, then they…” Stopping for a moment as his voice rose in fear, and then calming down. “I’m sorry, I don’t… have a concrete idea.”

"Let's set that last idea aside for a moment," Alice suggests, making a mental note that Akira is open to murder to protect supernatural (natural?) creatures, even if he doesn't prefer it. "Would it be possible to simply move the Bigfoot to another national park without them knowing? Then they can trek all over Big Bend and never be a threat to it... Also, is what they're doing in any way illegal? That is, can one travel in an armed gang around a national park? And how big is the group?" 

“I could… but there are more bigfoots then just the one I met. The one Bigfoot I encountered that almost ripped my arm off? Turns out she was pregnant and took refuge underground for her kids, and there’s always a possibility of someone else that can see and spread the news and location.” When she got on to the next question of legality, Akira sighed and replied, “Well, they’re big enough to form a Facebook group and ask for more volunteers, and the last I saw there were a handful of them. And for legality? Well, this is Texas. Having a whole armed group of people ain’t out of the ordinary, and even then, hunting is allowed in the Big Bend. Especially during seasons like this, so they would be just viewed as a big hunting party.”

Alice nods. Coming from California, a group of armed men running around a national park sounds illegal, but, as she recently experienced, Texas is a whole different world. "About how much is a 'handful'?" Alice presses. "And does the group seem to have one or a few leaders? And would it be safe to assume that these people are religious?"

“Around 5-10 people. Their leader is this late-aged man with a cap. White beard, hunting clothes and the like. And religion? Shit, it ain’t out of the ordinary… hell, I used to be a catholic when I was younger.”

"Well, going the non-violent route, it sounds to me like they need a change of heart. I know someone who can... let's call it 'evoke overwhelming conviction to become a Pacifist,' but I'm not sure if they can do that with multiple people at once. That could take out a leader or two. Beyond that, the next best thing I can think of is either striking fear in their hearts or some other powerful conviction that what they're doing is wrong. Fear would only work if it was overwhelmingly horrifying, to the point of it even being traumatizing, because these are 'manly men' we're talking about. Social pressures will make it hard for them to admit they're afraid of anything, and, frankly, if they're not afraid enough they may come back more armed to take down their fears. Which leaves just 'conviction.' My understanding is that Christianity is the norm there... so one idea is staging a 'visitation from the Lord' where someone who resembles Jesus, like, with fog and bright lights in the background, basically tells them that what they're doing is wrong--maybe even suggesting that they do the opposite and protect the Bigfoot--and then magically vanishes. The vanishing without a trace would reinforce the idea that it's truly a heavenly vision." 

Akira listened intently at Alice’s suggestion. Letting the scenario play in his head and visualizing the different ways it could end up. It did have some merit to it, seeing as how something similar happened. Placing a bet on finding the bigfoot first and some persuasion of other rangers working allowed Akira, Iryna, and Vergil to essentially gain a head start. 

“Getting them to protect the bigfoot might be good… but I’m afraid they might go collateral if things got dicey and more hunters come for the bigfoot. The scenarios… they’re worth a shot, but I need them to not cause any ecological damage.”

"I don't think ecological damage is much of an issue. If we can get them to protect the Bigfoot, that's, like, ecological preservation--and then they'd be up against other normals hunting it. And the illusion itself shouldn't do any harm to the environment." 

Akira nods before resuming. “If I may ask, who’s this someone who can do all of this?”

Alice sighs. "It definitely wouldn't be a one-person job. Lets see... you would be the one leading them into the trap, since the group expects you to take them straight to it. For the vision, we need someone who is persuasive and who looks like the stereotypical Jesus Christ--or maybe an angel will work better... Either way, someone we can make look supernatural who isn't already famous but who has presence." She pauses for a moment, lost in thought. "Between Bu and Kevin, they somehow temporarily turned Jason into a frog and someone else into a fake Jason--replacing him in the hospital. Do you have any idea how they did that?" In fact, Alice also noticed that Kevin had a completely different appearance at the dinner party compared to his wake, but she didn't want to bring up his death so soon after consoling Akira. She even kissed Kevin on the cheek while he was disguised. If it was an illusion, it was a powerful one. 

“I guess you’re right about that.” Thinking on the idea and doing some nods here and there. Though, his worry still persisted. “No, I don’t got a clue. I haven’t seen anything do like that before.” Akira answers swiftly. The rest of the plan was something he could do with some ease, but completely propping someone into someone else is entirely new to him. “Turning a person into another… and turning Jason into a frog for a whole month.” Repeating those same tidbits of information with a sort of awe in his voice. Cementing the reality of how far these powers could go. “Unfortunately, I don’t really know anyone that fits that description, at least not immediately.” Admitting to Alice of his limited knowledge of anyone that could be cut for the job. Looking down for a moment to think of anyone that matches the idea. Overtly supernatural but not too famous to be illuminated.

"Would you be willing to ask him about it? If you fully explain your situation, he may have other ideas.”

“Yeah, I can explain myself to him.” Confirming to Alice as he took another sip of his coffee. 

“I'm willing to be the angel. Concerning the vanishing part, Barbara told me that Kevin made several charms that allow one to teleport directly into his basement through any doorway. One of those charms is in a box of supernatural items that she's hoping the Knights will eventually sort out. We could borrow it for this.

Regarding the teleportation bracelet, Akira replied, “I think I actually have one of those on my person, a while back when Kevin was still alive.” Also confirming to the doctor that a way out is secured. “Unless we need a second one for both of us to get a quick way out after the effects wear off, if that’s what you mean.” Chuckling as well. 

"You have a home charm? That works perfectly then. We'd need to set up a door somewhere in the wilderness--uh, with as minimal ecological damage as possible--without trekking in and out, so I think both of us being able to leave using the charms would be helpful. Then we'd have a guide, the messengar, and a fast way out. The final part is theatrics that similarly vanish without a trace--fog and lights and maybe even music. I have an acquaintance who's in the film industry; I can give him a call ... But it's probably best to do that after we have my disguise figured out." Alice chuckles. "I'd prefer to not be Illuminated." 

When he heard of her preference of not wanting to be illuminated, the ranger nodded, “I understand that. All of that unneeded attention. Someone like Mark might be good with it, but…. I can’t handle all of that, at least not yet.”

"Mark and Iryna seem to be leveraging it, which has its merits. But for me being Illuminated would complicate my life and several other people's lives. No need for all that," Alice concludes in agreement. “I need to think all of this through a bit more..." Her brow briefly furrows. "Check in with Bu, and I'll call you in, like, a week so that we can keep planning. If you're afraid the group will find Bigfoot any minute, maybe you could buy time by having Sparklesword run around the area once and a while? That could distract them without putting the real wildlife in danger..." 

“Alright, I’ll try to call him as soon as possible. And I’ll have the Sparklesword ready when it’s needed. It is a big park, so I have some time before they really inch in on the true location.” Rubbing his forehead before finishing up the last of his coffee, “But… thanks again. For everything. For fixing my mental state, hearing me out, and… and helping me with this hunter problem. You’re an amazing person.” Giving a small, but genuine smile to her as he continued, “If there’s actually anything you need help with right now, any other problems or concerns, you can let me know now.”

Alice smiles softly. "You're welcome. I haven't solved your hunter problem yet, and I make no promises. But I'm always willing to brainstorm with you and see how I might be able to help, within reason. I know you'd help too if I needed your swordsmanship and expertise with something. As I said before, we're in this together." She turns a few pages back in her notebook, just to double check the list of screening questions. This conversation has been productive and worthwhile and also the most off-track one thus far. "Okay, Akira, you're in! You're the fourth person to join the Network, although I have a long list of people to add. I've, uh, been pretty busy with personal things lately..." She sounds apologetic. "... but I intend on growing this group over time." A pause. "Now I have a few questions about how you'd like to access the Network. Do you want to be 'private' or 'public'? Private means I don't share your name and contact information with anyone. Basically, I'm the middle person who reaches out to you if I find someone who has something you want or know of someone who wants your services. Public means I have your permission to pass your name and contact information on to others within the Network as needed--although aliases and burn numbers are fine."

“Thanks… I guess you’re right. We’re in this together.” Taking one last sip of his coffee before nodding at his integration to the Network, “Alright. That’s good. And don’t sweat it too much, we all got our stuff to deal with and get busy in life.” Reassuring her that he didn’t have a problem with it, also noting the size of the current Network and Alice’s intent on slowly but progressively increase the numbers overtime. When the topic of sharing his number and contact info to the Network comes up, Akira quickly answered, “I guess we can go public. It’s small right now, so might as well give it out and be on standby in case anything bad happens.” Giving her permission to do so.

"Public it is. The Network grows based on referrals, in addition to whoever I meet on the jobs and consider trustworthy. Iryna is already a part of the Network, and I intend on inviting several others who are in our social circles. Is there anyone beyond that who you would recommend I reach out to--like maybe Virgil?"

“Hmmm. Aside from Vergil, I have some people for recommendation. People like Minerva McAlaster, Charlie Blackstone, Preston Astor, and Theodore. They’re all very capable people from the times I’ve seen them. Especially with the latter two with their magical and physical capabilities. Minerva is excellent in terms of her mental capacities, though I haven’t seen much of her powers… and I don’t know if the Network is willing to accept 10-year-olds. Lastly, Charlie Blackstone is also one with good investigative ability and knowledge in werecreatures. Funnily enough, she and Minerva knows of the friendship bracelet and even wanted to join the knights with Kevin until he sadly passed.”

Alice's eyebrows raise at the mention of a ten-year-old Contractor, the youngest she's heard of by far. The fact that children are permitted to participate in such dangerous, damaging jobs--no matter how excellent their mental capacities are--makes her all the more dislike the harbingers. And she would most certainly be inviting Minerva to join the Network, if only to provide support and keep an eye on her. She repeats the list of names twice to commit them to memory, only writing down their initials to protect their identities. In fact, even Akira's answers to the screening questions are written down in discreet, minimal notes that (hopefully) only she can interpret.

"Perhaps it's not too late for them to join the Knights. According to Barbara, he left behind several bracelets... but that's probably for all the Knight to decide." Is Bu the new leader of the Knights, or was the group leaderless? They certainly lacked order and organization. 

The thought of child contractors was a shock to Akira as well. When he got into the Contractor system, he thought it would only be adults that were given these sort of powers. That is, until the second one where he met Sally Mason, who was 14. In his mind, it’s a scary predicament, as they’ll be sent to the same dangerous missions as adults, but now there’s a possibility that, if the worst came and they die, their parents will have to go through the trauma of losing a child. Especially when they’re away to do these types of contracts from uncaring, malicious harbingers. “Yeah… I figured.”

Alice sighs and presses on, in part to shift the conversation away from all of that. "In what ways is Charlie a good investigator?"

“On the contract we met, we were supposed to investigate on trying to find our perpetrator. She and Minerva were able to deduce what had happened and, through research and using her animal senses, was able to track and find that person. She also has a neat little gadget to open up doors and other contraptions, so that helped in opening places and finding info that was restricted behind a lock. And that was all within a day.”

The Card

The card is on plain white stock, easily forgotten. It has all the hallmarks of being mass produced off an online template. The typecast is bold, in Times New Roman:

The Association of Certified Specialty Contractors

A.C.S.C.

Recruitment Division

Mr. E. Powelton

Followed by a number, address, email, fax number, and office location in Philadelphia.

Looking up the name reveals a simple, bootstrap website. It has the same language as the card. Seems like a group for General contractors? There are a dozen more like it that come up in the search.

Mr. E Powelton receives a 'call' from Alice. She gets no response. Alice then calls the number using Abbas' newest burn phone.

After a few rings, you will get the following message, delivered in man's deep, resonant voice: "You have reached the Association of Certified Specialty Contractors. Business hours are 9-4 Eastern Time. If you are looking to hire a Certified Contractor, please press ‘1’. If you are a Contractor looking to obtain Certification, please press ‘2’. For all other business, please stay on the line and someone will be with you shortly."

Alice selects nothing.

After a moment, you hear the line switch over to yet another automated message, "Thank you for your interest in the ACSC. All of our associates are busy at this time, but please leave a message with your name, phone number, and the reason for your call and someone will return your call shortly."

Alice shakes her head, smiling slightly. There's a long pause before she speaks. "My name is Allie. I received a business card from one of your members a while ago--a friend and associate. I'd like to learn more about this group before pursuing 'certification' or hiring anyone. You can reach me at ..." Another pause as she looks up the phone's number. "XXX-XXX-XXXX. Please call me back in the next two hours and over the next two days from noon to 2:00 PM EST. I hope to hear from you soon." Her message concludes formally.

It's not till the second day at noon that Alice gets a call back.

"ACSC?" Alice answers. No one else would likely be calling this burner phone, especially within the timeframe she had provided. Alice has a West Coast accent, and there's the some dog barking in the background.

"Yes, my name is Ephraim Powelton, representing the ACSC. Would this be Allie?" Again, the voice is slow, deep & resonant - implying a barrel chested man

"It is. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Powelton. Hm, where should we begin?"

"In a perfect world we would begin with the name of the associate that directed you to us. However, if you choose not to share that information, we can start with the ‘How can I help you?’ approach." 

"Fair enough. May I call you back in a moment on a confidential line?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you. Now, two days ago at noon when I left my message, did you not have a working phone or computer near you, or is your real name not Ephraim Powelton?"

"Looking to get your questions answered first I see. I do appreciate a bit of moxy, so I'll answer that - I am not in the habit of carrying a phone."

"Nor am I. Talk to you soon." After a moment, Ephraim's phone rings. If it is a smartphone, the caller is somehow saved as "Allie" and the profile picture is dog paw print clip art. 

"Ms. Allie I presume?"

"Sure." She answers cryptically. "To answer your question, Bu Fang referred me."

"Ah - well then, that will save you some roundabout talk regarding laying foundations or putting in sewer lines. How can I help you?"

"Glad to hear it. I have several questions to begin with. For starters, how big is your group, and is the intention of this group to offer Contractor services to other Contractors or also the general public?" On this confidential line, Allie's voice is crystal clear as though she is standing right next to him. The background noise is also gone.

"Membership numbers are confidential, though I can say this organization is in its infancy now. As any Union, there are a number of goals, among them being: Collective Bargaining & even strikes set against the ‘Foreman’ who put on the Jobs, provided they are proven malicious, moderation for inter-Union conflict to achieve peaceful resolution, certification & ongoing training to make certain Union members are representing themselves well in the field, conciliatory prizes in the event ,multiple Union members are sent on a "Highlander" arrangement, as well as a "Widows & Orphan" fund for those who fall along the way. Not to mention the social benefits of Union meetups & the like. A public offering is not currently on the table, however the thought had crossed my mind." 

Allie chuckles. "Went all the way, it seems. And what is the certification process? I'm assuming I need a functioning human identity to apply?"

"Not one bit. It's an in-person affair where we see what a prospective member's capabilities are in a practical application - I'm sure you have seen the Foreman are not terribly picky about who they scrounge up for these Jobs. We want to make sure all our members can represent well, have good situational awareness, perform under pressure, & so on. There is an application fee, as well as Union Dues - membership is of course voluntary, & can be canceled at any time."

"They are definitely not picky," Alice agrees. "Also, I confess, it's nice to come across another group that has a screening process. One more question at the moment: is it possible for me to offer my confidential, highly effective, supernatural mental health services to your members without me formally joining? Obviously I'd need to prove that I can deliver this service. If I can make a mutually beneficial deal with those in charge, my services could become another Union benefit--or I can simply be a referral where individual members would cover their own treatment costs." 

"Referral services to members are always appreciated, provided we can verify such methods are safe, effective, and come with no hidden strings attached. That being said, the real goal is Contractor solidarity, and as such you might consider the benefits of full membership."

"I have a thriving mental health practice on the West Coast, but I'm treating regulars so I've kept the supernatural aspect hidden from them as best I can. Nevertheless, they're leaving positive reviews on Google Maps and Yelp--almost too good, frankly... Unless you yourself or whoever is behind the Union has a mental health challenge, I'd only be willing to provide treatment with an audience if you can find a member who is in need, who is in want of treatment, and who consents to a few onlookers." A pause. "I help people work through compulsions, phobias, delusions--most but not all mental health issues. Some things, like genetic-based ones, are beyond my current skills. The only strings I attach is that my patients pay me what they had agreed ahead of time to pay me, assuming I'm not doing it pro bono." 

"The Association is patently against ‘Pro Bono’ work in general. People should always be paid for their time. Alright, I will take that into consideration, run it by the Board. Did you have any other questions?"

"Of course, thanks for looking into it. Since it seems we're both hard to reach, it would be best if I contacted you at a set time when you'll be sure to have a phone on you. How does two weeks from today at noon sound?" 

"That will do."

"Maybe by the time we coordinate something and I'm at your office in Philadelphia, I'll be open to applying for membership. The benefits are enticing, but I have a lot on my plate at the moment, so I don't mind the delay... Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Powelton?" 

"Not at the moment. I will be of course verifying your identity through Mr. Fang. Since you mentioned another group, I should mention that the Association offers a generous finders fee should a Contractor become certified. Also, we are hoping to have elections for the board next year, so it's a good time to get in on the ground floor."

"Oh, he'd get a finder's fee?" Alice chuckles. "Anyways, as you said, the goal is Contractor solidarity, which can be achieved formally and informally--and some place a high value on privacy. I'd only send my allies your way after I've tried out the Union myself, so let's take it one step at a time. Thank you for answering all of my questions, and talk to you in two weeks." 

"Until then." click

A Busy Man

At the exact time Alice specified two weeks later, Ephraim Powelton receives a supernatural phone call. "Mr. Powelton? Hello, this is Allie. How are you today?"

"Ah, hullo Ms. Allie. I am as well as can be expected in these troubling times. Nothing you need be concerned with, however."

"Fair enough. I suppose I could say the same. Did you have a chance to speak with the Board about vetting me as a supernatural mental health care provider?"

"I did. We have a potential volunteer who the rest of us have deemed… ah, in need of such services, and they have agreed to be a test subject. If you can help them, you will be approved for referral."

"Wonderful! I suppose this will be happening at your location in Philadelphia?"

"Whatever method works best for you. The member in question is a founder, and their word won't be questioned."

"Oh, no audience then. If it's alright with them, and they can travel safely, I would prefer they come to me, in Detroit. They can rent a hotel room so that we have privacy. As I don't have an identity currently, it's difficult for me to maintain an office location. If that's complicated though, I can come to them. It's not too long of a drive... What is their name--or alias?" 

"The name is Edgar Stokes." There is a long pause, as if waiting for a reaction. “My understanding is Mr. Stokes is a busy man, and travel at the moment may be difficult. I can run it by him and let you know."

"If multiple people agree that he's in need of my services, this may require multiple day-long sessions. I'm currently in a situation where travel for longer than 24 hours quickly becomes problematic for me. So if he can find the time to travel to me, I'd appreciate it. But if he can't, I'll just make multiple trips. Also, for ease of communication, I can call him myself now that I have his name. Please pass that on too." 

"I will do so. Like I said, he's a busy man, but several on the Board believe a … ah, intervention may be in order. You have our word: you would not be in any personal danger--it isn't that sort of issue. Safer with him than anyone, I'd imagine, Mr. Stokes counts around 30 of these Jobs the Foreman provide to his name."

Thirty? Alice gasps, followed by a pause. "I suppose now is a good time to also pass on that I generally prefer to provide services for those in our line of work with a personal bodyguard, as defending myself from danger has never really been my strong suit. But my guard will be deafened for the entire session, for client privacy, and he is usually invisible. And, as I said during our first chat, some mental health challenges are currently beyond my skills--but I'll do my best. Shall I call you back in three days, at noon again, to continue our planning?"

"A bodyguard? At your pleasure, Ms. Allie. I would simply advise Mr. Stokes of your intentions there. He is… well, I'll let you talk to him yourself and form your own opinion. We can meet whatever schedule you wish."

"Of course! And it's not mandatory, just a personal preference. I'd be just as willing to talk to him myself and cut out the middleman, but I did want to make sure he was okay with that and had some forewarning. Talk to you soon, Mr. Powelton."

"Until then."

Ms. Shrink

Several days later, after permission to contact is confirmed and other minor details are discussed, Edgar Stokes receives a phone call at a designated time (set up to ensure he has his phone on him). 

The call picks up to silence...not even breathing.

"Mr. Stokes, this is Allie, the supernatural psychologist..."

"...I know who you are." The voice is deep, resonant, and somehow sepulchral--has a slight lisp.

There is a pause before the professional young woman continues. "I was told it would be easiest if I came to you. Where are you currently located?"

"Right now? I'm also in Philly. Some mess to clean up, and no one else was steppin' to the plate." At the end there, Alice will hear an ultrasonic meep clear as a bell. Well beyond the range of human hearing.

"Understood. When and where would you like to meet with me privately? I know you have a full schedule, but the treatment process could take several days--although it's much faster than the mundane treatment time of several months or years, if ever."

"Yeah… I never had my head shrunk before; that's what yinz do, yeah? ‘Shrinks’?" - prolly the ACSC office then, downtown. It's cozy, has a sports bar next door if'n you wanna catch the game."

There's a smile on Alice’s voice. "Sometimes things grow in the mind that don't belong there. That's the only thing we're going to try to shrink--things in your mind that you don't want, that aren't doing you any good. The office, alright, I can meet you there in ... two days? At any hour you'd prefer?" Thirty. Would Abbas even stand a chance if something went down during a session? And then who would watch over Jason and Violet? "I will come alone." 

"Midday is good for me then, Ms. Shrink--my work is mostly after the dark settles in."

"Sounds good. Assuming our sessions are successful, would you be open to an exchange of services as payment?"

"Course I would. Our kind don't work for free."

Some do. "Excellent. See you soon."

Frail

Philadelphia is a city of great beauty and tragic poverty all rolled into one. The office is in the middle ground of such--one step between the slums and the Liberty Bell. It is a balmy Spring day, cicadas can be heard buzzing in the trees...

Alice, in her usual fashionable of black, white, and gray attire--complete with small backpack, fabric gloves, wool cloche hat, and a cloth mask over the lower part of her face--approaches the building. No haunting, invisible ghost archer and no frog accompanies the short, frail young woman. 

As Alice approaches the door, her enhanced sense of smell is nearly overpowered by the scent of raw sewage--happens in the big city from time to time. The office door is unmarked and decidedly humble. So much so you find yourself checking the address again. Still, upon pressing the buzzer the door unlocks, and you are free to enter a small office. Honed Contractor reflexes pick up the following: there is only one exit, the one behind you. There are a few security cameras unobtrusively placed in the corners. There is a single secondhand desk that fills much of the room, which holds an ancient typewriter and an office phone. Standing before the desk is an incredibly ancient, wizened Asian man leaning on a cane. He looks to be at least 90 and is almost impossibly frail. His eyes glitter beneath bushy white eyebrows as he welcomes you to the office. "Ah… Ms. Allie, I presume! Ehehehe… please, take a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes I am--I'll pass this time, but thank you." Alice approaches and offers a hand to shake. "And you are?"

"Ahahah… I am Lao Chi… yes, yes" The old man hobbles to the other side of the desk and carefully lowers himself into the +size chair, "Ehehe… Lao Chi. I am also Edgar Stokes."

Alice takes her seat as Edgar takes his, not at all minding the handshake being declined. Her legs are crossed and she sits with good posture. "Pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Stokes. How are you doing today?"

"Heh, these old bones… they are wearisome! I am… how do you say… still alive?? Yes, yes… still alive. You are a psychologist, yes? Get into people's minds? Eheheh… such a frail young flower for such a task… hehe." The reedy, heavily accented voice of the man is nothing like what you heard before. 

"Only if they let me," Alice replies with a soft smile. "There is the code of mental health practitioners, and I also have my own code that I follow." Alice glances around at the security cameras before turning back to Edgar. "I'd prefer this not be recorded." Was this his true form or the form before that she had called? Or perhaps he didn't have one any more, like her lack of identity. But, it didn't matter; the mind is the same (to her knowledge). 

"Ah… these?" He springs upward with sudden, surprising agility, tapping a camera with the cane, "All fake! Eheheh… no cameras, but it makes you think there are, eh? Eh?!?" He pulls one open showing it is in fact an empty shell. "Appearances… heh, that is how we fool them you see… the Wise Man questions what his eyes are telling him."

Alice's eyebrows raise at the old man's spryness, but she shakes her head with a smile. Thirty. Still, the mind cannot resist attaching facts and expectations to what is perceived.

"Indeed. So what led your staff to believe you'd benefit from my services--and you to consent to meeting with me today?" 

"Yes… Let the duplicitous knave not be afraid to dine wholly on his enemy, so that he may, after fully consuming his flesh, partake in his wives & concubines in the flesh & likeness… some wisdom; it is not meant to be known, eh? Eh?" The old man cackles and falls back into the chair with a creak. "It may be that reading old books can make one… unstable."

Cannibalism? Alice thought. And he just referenced skin crawling... May we never be enemies. The young woman's professional demeanor doesn't waver. "Depends on the books I suppose--although plenty of other things can cause instability. Anything else that might have led us here, to this moment, regarding your mental health?"

"Other things? There were nightmares, now that you mention it, yes, yes… sleeping in the coffin seems to fix that however, when we do sleep, which is rare at our age, eheheheh… who can say? How many Gods has Edgar Stokes put down with these hands?" The ancient old man looks at his veined, liver spotted hands--for all appearances frail and weak, "Three? Four? The Wise Man knows that Nature abhors a void… does he need to take their place now? Lao Chi cannot say, for Lao Chi does not know--a simple fisherman, Lao Chi, who only wished to be interred with his ancestors." The man is suddenly sad, even mournful, with genuine tears forming in his eyes… "Yet, this was not to be--Edgar Stokes must feed. Is that madness? Can one be MAD in this insane world? The Wise Man does not know… but you do, Ms. Allie… you know a great deal; we can smell it on you." 

Alice remains stonefaced. "I am here to try to help you get free of what you want to be free of--in the realm of the mind, where I have at least a little authority." A pause. "If you 'must feed,' then you must. That is your truth." And quite possibly the truth, she considers. Perhaps Edgar has contracted something similar to vampirism, over the course of his jobs? Hard not to consider it when he sleeps in coffins. Her brow furrows. "Cannibalism is indeed considered by many to be a type of madness, but that's a judgment made by people who collectively redefine sanity and insanity at will. Do you consider this behavior to be problematic for you?" Because if you don't, I have no chance of addressing it with you. "Do you want to see if your truth can be different?" 

"Ahhaha.... truth, that is the problem. Edgar eats the dead, as he must: the issue is the memories that flow with this repast. He recalls who they were--how they lived, how they died. As mentioned, he can wear them like a suit if he wishes… sometimes too well. He believes he is them, and resumes their lives unaware. When he sleeps, he dreams of them being eaten--of being eaten by himself.. .enough to disturb anyone, don't you think?"

"Indeed--very disturbing." Alice means it. Frankly, it continues to take courage to be in this office alone with Edgar. The appearance of the old Chinese man comforted her until she learned that Edgar had skincrawled into the dead (?) man named Lao Chi. 

"How about we start there then, with the nightmares?" Having a rested mind is a foundation to mental health, and there is less debate about whether this issue is problematic in Edgar's eyes. As Alice speaks, a very faint, silver, ethereal halo (the jagged kind, not the circle kind) appears around her head--a shifting supernatural circlet. At the same time, a very visible black ethereal halo appears around Edgar's head, although he would feel nothing. "I was told you are trustworthy, so I will not pursue contractually binding you to a specific payment, other than that you'll agree to what you consider is reasonable once our sessions are done. Do you consent to that?" 

"Oh certainly… hehehe. Quite trustworthy, we all think so. Yes, yes, my silver flower--you shall receive your payment, indeed." The old man seems unconcerned about the glowing halo.

Alice grins at the 'silver flower' comment (and also visibly relaxes). Probably for the best that neither Jason nor Abbas are here... "Let's start at the beginning then. Do you remember when the nightmares began?"

Alice and Edgar discuss the possible origins, impacts, and details of his nightmares for the rest of the day, until the sun goes down. It quickly becomes clear to Alice that there are actually two issues intertwined--a type of imposter syndrome which manifests both in the nightmares and in the daytime, which she had partially witnessed. As the session progresses, her silver halo becomes increasingly visible while Edgar's black one becomes faded. 

The young woman doesn't mind being away from the Crypt the first day, no more than her usual oppressive illness, but the second day she seems even more sleep deprived, pale, and malnourished than before. Nevertheless, her performance as his psychologist doesn't falter. They continue on with the treatment from noon until the evening once more. During that time, Alice eats nothing, only occasionally pulling out a silicone water bottle and drinking. 

The "Lao Chi" persona never abates during this time, seeming for all the world to be a wizened, eccentric elder. However, the use of "we" fades and the tittering laughs become less common, with the whole conversation becoming more coherent. He speaks of alien worlds, of strange lands, forgotten Gods, and literally going to Hell. Even so, for all the horrors he has witnessed and perhaps even embodies, the tales seem true: Edgar Stokes has put down several malicious creatures that thought themselves invincible Gods--several times single-handedly. He has witnessed alien body snatchers that can become anyone, experienced multiple alternate realities, and traveled through time on several occasions. The scale of his experiences are breathtaking, yet are delivered in an almost laconic banter, as if just another day.

Alice listens and gently prods where it seems certain details might have been glossed over that might be relevant to the task at hand. However, unlike her sessions before accepting these jobs, she takes no notes. The information isn’t as important as the process. Technically the lack of notes could be an additional level of protecting client privacy… However, these notes would probably seem like a fiction author pondering their next book topic. The stories Edgar shared were fanciful and insane, and she believes every one of them.

At the end of the second day, several hours after nightfall just like the day before, Alice makes a familiar mental tug on the last lingering bits of darkness around her patient’s mind. Well, the last bits of this specific darkness. There are many aspects of the mind of Edgar Stokes that, as they both recognized early on, could be considered insanity. However, she just as quickly discovered that some things were immovably ingrained in the man’s psyche.

Nevertheless, Alice considers the second and final supernatural tug and snap--like the uprooting of an oppressive weight after digging all around it for hours--a solid win. She sighs as her vibrant halo dissolves. At least she is able to provide a little relief to this man who she now trusts, at a minimum, to deal honestly and kindly with her. So long as she wasn’t dead.

"Violet, please sit still honey," Alice asks gently, eventually resorting to giving her a bag of animal crackers out of her messenger bag to distract the child from the grabbable medical gear. "Thanks again Dr. Buckworth," she adds. 

Alice (who Terry knows as "Allie" from the dinner party and "Dr. Alice Decker" from their work together involving Jason Valent) wears fashionable clothing all in dark colors: jeans, booties, sweater, and gloves. Her accessories are a Friendship Bracelet with several charms and pearl earrings. After the doctor, mother (with shoulder frog), and daughter entered the hotel room, she removed her face mask (one that covered her nose and mouth this time, not the upper half like when he saw her at the dinner party). Alice Decker is visibly ill--pale skin, looks like she hasn't slept well in weeks, and too thin. However, thus far she has said nothing about her ailments to Terry. 

Terry demonstrates masterful bedside manner during the examination, utilizing some candy, a genuine kindness, and a handful of charms he’s picked up in the past couple decades of working in family health. When he’s finished, he sits back and begins the consultation. He suggests that Violet stay in the room, but will respect Alice’s choices. 

Given Violet's relationship with the demon, Alice 'calls' Terry so that all can remain in the room but Violet cannot hear what is being discussed. This looks like Alice simply looking at Terry and sometimes Violet (motionless and wordless). Yet Terry alone hears her voice through his phone on speaker. 

When the call is made, Alice hears a ribbit from her shoulder.

“Hush. I'll tell you afterwards," Alice immediately answers.

“It seems Violet is sharing her body with another entity. I sensed a profound desire to keep Violet safe, and I understand that this entity has acted to ‘protect’ her in the past. “It’s tempting to call their relationship symbiotic, but that depends on our friend’s discretion. If she were an adult it would be one thing, but children have to test their boundaries. They hurt each others feelings on purpose and on accident. They hit each other. But as upsetting as these conflicts are, they’re a key part of childhood development. If our friend overreacts in one of these situations, someone could get hurt.

You don’t want to endanger other kids, so you keep her away. That’s understandable, but it also robs Violet of the opportunity to grow. She’s smaller and less emotionally developed than I’d expect for a kid her age. And that gap is just going to grow unless you provide ample socialization opportunities. “It’s a difficult situation. However, I think given what you’ve already attempted and the results, you may want to start thinking of how you’re going to live with this situation.

When grown, she will have a responsibility to wrangle her demons, as do we all. Her task is more difficult than our own. She will be challenged. She will be tested. To equip her for her demons, she needs a solid foundation.”

"Thank you, Doctor." Alice's expression is troubled. "Either she wrangles this demon as an adult or ... my husband and I find a way to wrangle this demon for her. But I believe that's a different conversation ... Are you familiar with Casa Verde?"

“I’ve heard of it. It may be the best option for her. If I may, my own daughter, Ellen, is a non-verbal autistic person. Raising her has been a challenge, and she is also a danger to people around her, though to a lesser degree. You may be facing a demon you can’t wrangle, no matter how much you want to do so. And if you or others perish facing this demon, where does that leave her? What guilt will that saddle her with? She will learn. You can’t keep a secret from her forever. In the end, you face a difficult choice, isolation, which is a tragedy, or socialization with kids her age, which bears a risk of tragedy.”

"Yes..." Alice looks over at Violet. The little girl is seated in the middle of the bed and performing a checkup on her bear plushie, Scratch. "I understood from the beginning that we are out of our league here. Jason and I were right to remove her from a situation of absolute poverty and total isolation--but ... our lifestyle ... Violet deserves all that is good in the world. And the longer we keep her, the harder it's going to be on all of us ... We have to decide ..." 

The frog just looks back and forth at the two adults, knowing there's a conversation he should be a part of going on between them.

Noticing the frog's glances, Alice adds with a sigh, "Let's speak freely now." Terry's call with her ends.

“Alice, I think a lot of parents feel like they’re in a situation that’s out of their league. “That said, you aren’t looking very well yourself. Would you mind if I also gave you a check up while I’m here?” 

"I'm cursed, and it makes me ill," the woman explains. "My husband is cursed in the same way..." She gently scoops up the frog and sets it down on the desk. "But... sure."

The frog looks at Terry and ribbits, as if that explained everything.

“Well, want me to see if I can cure yours? And, uh, your husband’s? I will admit, I’m not a veterinarian…”

"I doubt it'll be that easy but certainly." Alice gently pets the head of the frog with a finger. "Actually, he should be back to being human any day now--this isn't the curse--this was, uh, something else..."

“Well, thanks for making an effort to be here for your daughter’s checkup.”

Violet calmly gnaws on an animal cracker, watching with curious eyes.

“Would you like privacy for your checkup, Alice?”

Violet feels a hand tap her shoulder and sees a bag of gummy worms next to her when she turns her head. Her eyes beam in excitement. She seems very unphased by the manifestation of snacks and tries with gusto to open up the bag. Turning it upside down and pulling on the sides, the revelation becomes clear that... she isn't sure how to open it…

Alice could almost hear Abbas sigh, though she's pretty sure that was her imagination. Abbas doesn't sigh. She glances at what's happening between the invisible Abbas and the visible Violet and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Yes..." Seeming to speak to Violet, Alice answers, "I would like some privacy actually. Let's … I suppose the bathroom would be the easiest option. We'll just leave the door open so that I can hear if Violet needs anything." She moves into the bathroom, leaving Jason on the desk. 

Terry nods and will proceed with the examination. For Alice's consultation, he speaks quietly. "You are afflicted with an unusual disease that ties you to a certain location. Unless you return to and remain in that location or cure the disease, you will die. Would you like me to try and treat it?"

Alice nods, her expression (professionally) neutral. "Yes."

Terry nods and takes Alice's hands in his own. He looks her directly in the eyes. "This disease is not who you are."

"It isn't." It's hard for her to say the words. The curse shaped her life so dramatically for five months that felt like a lifetime. She looks away from him at first but then brings herself to stare back into the soul of the compassionate doctor--a look of fear breaking through the false neutrality. 

"Close your eyes and breathe deeply." Terry instructs. He slides a caring, healing hand from Alice's temples, down her neck, her shoulders, and arms, ending in the palms of her hands.

Alice does as he says. Breathing deeply is difficult as two quiet tears roll down her cheeks, but she does the best she can to do what she so often has instructed others to do. Alice suddenly opens her eyes and wipes them clear. She sighs, as having the answer is the source of much relief. "I appreciate you trying, Terry." She looks slightly healthier, like she just woke up from a long, deep rest, but it's clear by her palor and thinness that the supernatural illness remains. "Don't worry," she smiles softly, trying to reassure the both of them. "We'll figure this out."

“I’m sorry, but it appears to be beyond my abilities. But I have a radical treatment option you may want to consider. You ever see a dog with fleas die? Pretty much the second that dog’s heart stops beating, the fleas all go jumping off.   possess the power to restore life to those who succumb to their injuries. I don’t know about this friend of Violet’s, nor your curse, but some more metaphysical illnesses are tied to a patient’s life force. It is a radical option… one I’d prefer not to use. But consider it.” 

Alice shifts from surprise to mild amusement. She wipes her eyes clear one final time. Whispering, knowing the question would upset both adults in the other room, "Did you just gently offer to kill and then resurrect me?"

“Yes. Well, oh I most certainly can’t do the killing. You’ll need to find someone else to do that. Do no harm after all.”

"Uh huh..." Alice crosses her arms and leans back a bit on the bathroom counter. She's intrigued (and still whispering). "What's your success rate on revival? And how many times have you done it before?"

“Thankfully I haven’t had the need to exercise that particular ability very often, but I have never failed. Far as I can tell, I’m the best there is. Look, it’s an extraordinary option, but it is an option. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

"Ribbit." In the bathroom doorway is the frog sitting there, glaring daggers at the two in the bathroom. He slowly hops into the room and then jumps onto the closed toilet seat. Continuing the death glare, he looks at Terry. "Ribbit." The frog turns to Alice, who is still leaning against the sink. The glare softens a bit. "Ribbit."

Abbas stops stealthing, and what appears right in front of Terry is an older, tanned gentleman, the outside of his clothes a dark gray/maroon color, about 6" 3’, with a face mask over his face, different eye color contacts, and a cap over his head. He gently picks up the frog while whispering, "It’s her choice at this point... I know, I don't trust it too but... the curse is deadly and you know it. If there’s even a chance..." pulling him out of the restroom he continues to talk. "Also it’s kinda weird joining them in the restroom. Even I have my manners."

Alice looks down at the intruding frog and then at the suddenly visible, formerly unintroduced, intruding Abbas. She appears and sounds mildly annoyed. "Maintaining the illusion of privacy would have been nice..." she says to them as Abbas leaves with the amphibian in hand. "Thank you." The bathroom door handle glows silver, as do her eyes, and the door gently shuts behind them. 

Terry looks surprised but recovers quickly when he sees that Alice knows who this person is. “Who you involve in your medical consultations is your decision,” he says.

The frog wiggles in Abbas's hands and tries to bite him. "Ribbit!"

"C’mon, Jason. Privacy,” Abbas answers as he opens the candy snack bag for Violet and pulls out a gummy worm snack for Jason. Then he moves the gummy worm away. "Actually, can you eat gummies as a frog?"

"RIBBIT!" as he goes to bite Abbas's finger instead of the gummy. The frog is clearly not happy at the current situation.

Abbas looks at the pitiful frog and shakes his head.

Returning to the conversation in the cozy hotel bathroom: "They are deeply invested in my health and well-being, but, as you said, the choice is mine. And I haven't agreed to anything yet--nor will I until I have some more details." Alice tucks some of her short black hair, an undercut bob, out of her eyes and back into place behind her ear. Her arms stay uncrossed. "Do you happen to know if you can revive a person at any point after their death, or is there a time limit? And can you purge the body of poison?" 

"Were we to do it, I would have to revive you very soon after death, probably within a minute. And yes, I can purge the body of poison."

There is a long, quiet pause as one compassionate doctor looks back at the other. "So, two things. First, do you think you might be able to revive something other than a human? I'd prefer to confirm your abilities before making my decision. Second, I want you to understand right now that if we attempt this and something goes horribly wrong, leaving me dead or worse, then there is one person in this room who might immediately attempt to kill you. And another person who, as soon as he is able, will absolutely attempt to kill you--no matter what I say to him beforehand."

"Sounds like you and Violet keep the same sort of company." Terry takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Alice, do you know how much death I've seen. How many patients I've tried my darndest to save, but just couldn't? This is the field I'm in. At the end of the day, if we did this procedure, it would be your choice. I suggest you try to impress that fact upon your friends. Now if you want a demonstration, that can be arranged. Animals work fine. It feels cruel, but I understand the need for proof."

Violet continues to pull at the bag of gummy worms, visibly upset at her imaginary projection of whoever had designed it to be so difficult to open.

"Violet, here, let Uncle open it for you" Abbas places his (visible) hands out in a offering gesture

She looks up at Abbas with an expression that must've been similar to Jesus' apostles when he was resurrected. She wordlessly yet excitedly holds the bag outstretched for him to take.

Abbas takes it, and shows to her how to open it step by step, opening the bag for her. "You can take this flap right here, and pull it while you grab this other side too.”

Another long pause. This time Alice's eyes are closed and she presses on her temple with a gloved hand, stressed. Finally: "Let me talk to him."

Alice steps out of the bathroom and into the hotel room, leaving the door open. First, she carefully takes the pissed off frog from Abbas. Holding him up to her at eye-level, she talks to Jason softly. "Between the two of us, I'm disposa--well, replaceable. If Dr. Buckworth really can revive things, I should be the experiment, not you. This is what I'm choosing." 

The frog shakes his stubby head. "Ribbit"

Violet watches like a dad watching the Super Bowl, totally engrossed in this process. When the bag splits open, she beams and silently claps in elation. She looks up at Alice and points to Abbas and the bag.

"Look, look!"

"Good job, honey!" Alice praises automatically--not even noting what is actually going on--before moving herself and the frog to the front door in the short hallway, close to the open bathroom, for at least some visual privacy.

Sitting down with her back to the door, the ‘princess’ continues to converse with her frog--although the conversation seems rather one-sided. "To explore this option, either you or me, dear." She says 'dear' genuinely, not sarcastically like when her 'husband' endlessly teased her as a human. "I know you want it to be you, but if things go horribly wrong, there's not another you to step up. So if I try this out and it doesn't go well, do you promise not to harm Dr. Buckworth? He's just doing the best he can..." 

Jason takes a hop forward, "ribbit," then looks up at his wife. "Riiibbiiittt".

Alice purses her lips and closes her eyes, finally asking the question she realized when she heard Terry's extremely gentle retort about her friends. "... Do you want to be the test subject?"

"Rrrriibbbiiittt!"

Alice sighs. "Fine. But I don't like it as much as you don't like it--and don't you dare tell me we never compromise on things." With that, sets the frog on her shoulder, a familiar place for both of them at this point, and gets up. Poking her head into the bathroom, looking mildly annoyed again, she tells the doctor, "Thank you for waiting, Dr. Buckworth. My husband, Jason, has consented to the experiment--assuming the test run goes well."

Then Alice walks over to Violet, where she can smell and sense the heartrate of Abbas in this small room. She should have rented a larger suite, but she didn't want to borrow too much from Abbas. (Having made a massive loan to Jason Valent last month and still awaiting repayment, Alice is now running short on her own funds). "Abbas, can you, um, go poking around in the bushes outside and bring us, like, the biggest bug you can find?"

Abbas' heartbeat vanishes outside the room for a moment. Several minutes later, Abbas places the moth into Alice's hand. "Go wild."

Alice looks at the absolutely massive moth crawling up Abbas' face mask with raised eyebrows. Then she accepts the insect; it barely fits in her hands. "Let's do it out here, Doctor. More space for everyone to watch." She and her frog move over to the desk, as does the currently visible Abbas. "... Are we ready?" 

The moment Alice says that, Abbas just nopes out of existence and vanishes. Though with her hearing, she can tell Abbas did join them behind said desk 

Violent noms a gummy bear and sits back, legs extended on the bed. She clutches the bag to her chest as if it were an ancient highly sought after text, and she was being robbed by a very enthusiastic historian.

“Ready, Freddy. Go ahead and do the moth in however you’d like.”

Alice gently pins the gigantic moth down to the desk with one hand. It tries to flutter and wiggle, a fruitless attempt to avoid its fate. She takes in the insect's details for a moment--the pattern on the wing tips and the fuzzy antennae. How the hell did Abbas find one of largest moths in the world, native to Asia, in the city streets of Detroit? Why couldn't he come back with a cockroach or something?! Alice swallows. Terry's going to bring it back. It'll be fine. But Terry's earlier statement of doing no harm resonated with her own convictions.

After a long, suspenseful pause of Alice just looking down at this helpless insect, struggling internally between her compassion and her calculatedness, she finally says quietly, "Um, Abbas, can you deal with this? I need to, like, step outside..." As she speaks, she moves the frog with her free hand from her shoulder to the table.

"..." Abbas breaks stealth again and looks at the little bugger. Moths, annoying creatures, especially one this big. Abbas takes out an arrow and starts off strategically. Wings off. This will stop it from flying away. Next, one simple stab to its head. If the doctor speaks true, then they should be able to restore this injury. The wingless moth struggles in Abbas' hand before he stabs its head with his arrow, crushing its head in the process. A little moth blood goes onto his face that he easily wipes away before looking at the doctor.

The door to the room clicks shut as Abbas begins his work. Once Alice has returned, Terry will turn to the moth. He holds his hand over the creature, mostly concealing it from view. A teal glow emanates from beneath his palm.

The moth’s wings shift, rearranging themselves along the creature’s body. Then they flap. Then flutter. Terry withdraws his hand, and the moth stands, alive, cleaning its antennae as if nothing happened. “Poor thing,” he says.

Alice sighs in relief. Looking down at the frog that sits on the desk, about six inches away from the massive moth. "What do you think, Jason? Do you still want to give this a try?"

Looking up at her, Jason answers, "Ribbbbbet." 

“I feel like we should maybe consult a mystic. You know, a real one, to get some idea whether or not this might help your situation. It’s pretty drastic for ‘try it out and see if it works.’” 

The moth flutters, chittering and swinging its little legs in a mix of fear and confusion over its antennae. It had... had it really just? This experience... How many creatures have returned from the veil? The underworld? Death? The creature tested its wings with a little flap... And seconds later, it took flight! Straight lines, turns, spins, circles. Over and around Terry's hand, encircling Alice, steering clear of Jason, and hovering over Violet. It was alive... It was ALI-

Violet reaches up with a clumsy but quick hand and snatches the moth by one of its wings. Only Alice, with her subsonic hearing, could make out the: SQEEAK SQUEAA-

The little girl chomps down on the critter; the moth goes silent. A satisfied squeal escapes from Violet as her other hand lifts to stuff the rest of it into her mouth. The chewing sounds are a mix of crunchy and gooey.

"Do you have someone in mind because if not I--" Alice's gaze follows the beautiful insect's flight across the room. "Violet, NO--!" And then she's leaning back on the desk, eyes shut, brow furrowed, gloved hand pressing on her temple again. The cursed mother simply sighs, wishing her 'husband' could be the one to explain why this is totally normal behavior for their paranormal three-year-old daughter. 

After a moment, Alice provides no additional explanation (hoping that her earlier comment about rescuing Violet from poverty would suffice). She opens her eyes and turns to Terry, hands now down on the desk that she's half sitting on. "... There is someone I was going to reach out to regarding Violet's friend after her checkup, someone by the name of 'Amy' who I met at Chef Fang's dinner party. She seemed interested in both our curse and the dem--friend. But, beyond her interest, I have no idea if she could be considered a 'mystic'. We've done some digging ourselves, of course, but none of us have expertise in the supernatural. Is there anyone that you'd recommend?"

“No. I don’t know anyone like that. Amy isn’t all sunshine and roses either. You know she specializes in blood manipulation. And I think she might be possessed herself.”

"Oh, you know her? I noticed the smell of blood on her but hadn't yet figured out why... What is blood manipulation, and what makes you think she's possessed?" 

“We were on a job together. She had a way of extending a spike of blood from her body to use as a spear. And then her eyes changed at one point and, well, she just seemed different. I haven’t seen her do anything terrible, but our objective on that job was to save everyone. We weren’t really tested in that way that day.”

"Understood. Thank you for the information. I'll see if I can get in touch with her..." Alice moves towards the bathroom, not wanting to make a silent call that involves no one in the room in front of them. Then she pauses and turns back to Terry. "If it seems like Jason and I are in a rush, Dr. Buckworth, it's because we are. This curse nearly killed us once already when a job went horribly wrong far away from our recharge location. I'm hesitant to accept future jobs until that--and our daughter's situation--" Her gaze falls onto the frog on the table, and Alice sighs again. "--and my husband's situation is all sorted out. Thanks again for taking the time and offering to help however you can. We really appreciate it." A soft smile before she disappears into the bathroom.

"No problem. I accept most forms of insurance, or if you'd like to pay another way, that's okay. If you're unable, that's okay too. Doing good is its own reward."

Abbas sighs and pays in cash.

After a long telepathic explanation about the demon provided to ‘Amy’…

"At the risk of coming off as cold, what is your worry about this creature clinging to your daughter? It seems to protect her, keep her alive. And she seems to become distressed if it's not around. Does it trust you, her new family? Or is this a... tumultuous partnership?"

"Its presence could be a threat to us if we ever chose to discipline Violet or deny her what she wants.” Alice replies. “But, more importantly, its presence is a risk to other kids. If someone, say, pushes or hits her--which children inevitably do as they learn the social limits of their world and how to navigate them--it could manifest and rip off that child's head. Thus, she hasn't had much time with other kids her age, and this isolation will ultimately harm her.”

“And I'd guess that your daughter has very little control over the creature."

"Zero, from what little we've seen."

"Has it communicated to you what it wants? Beyond, well, trying to keep the little girl alive."

"It has not."

"Well, that's... annoying. Demons that don't talk to you are the worst."

A pause. "Well, to be fair, I haven't, like, sat my daughter down and tried to chat with her 'friend'. According to Abbas, it said nothing when it re-found Violet. And it's not made an appearance since then. Since we might have to do something... something that is uncomfortable for my daughter to draw it out and given how open it is to violence, I'd prefer we attempt to chat at a time when we're also prepared to use force--that is to say, use force just as it seems to be willing to use force." A sigh. "Here's what I want to know: are there ways to draw it out of Violet, if only for a few seconds, while she is asleep or otherwise unconscious? I don't want this confrontation--however it goes--to traumatize her. And then, if diplomacy doesn't work, how do we trap it so that it cannot easily manifest or kill it or tame it? I have some ideas for taming. I know someone who is, um, let's just say capable of rapidly convicting beings of their violent ways to the point of making them practically pacifists. Killing it sounds risky for both adults and child, given how hard it would be to even hold down--it shifts shapes and can become immaterial--and possibly invisible. And I don't know enough about demonology to even begin to trap or suppress it." 

“I cannot say that my preferred field is demonology, but I can start researching what I can. A full visual description, or even a picture, of what it looks like when it manifests could be very helpful. If by some grace you can get its name, too… I somehow doubt that killing it is going to be the best use of time. I’m sure that we have people who would be capable of doing so, and I could easily protect them while they do it, but then you lose a potentially powerful resource. The creature may be reasoned with if it is not simply programmed. Begin to consider who you might want to take on the demon. It may be a type of inherited curse or spiritual parasite. It might not be able to be removed from your daughter without requiring a new host.”

"I can send you a picture if you give me a few days and an address to mail it to.” Amy provides a P.O. Box to send the images to. “A resource? Perhaps... Killing is never my preference. This creature has been caring for her, in its own way, so I would hope it has some semblance of compassion. And either robotically or intelligently, it has accepted our roles--at least to an extent--in caring for Violet, despite the fact that we could be considered 'kidnappers' who stole her from her 'friend.' Without needing to ask, I know that Jason or I--my husband or I would gladly host the demon if it comes down to that. And, thank you for your help with this, Amy. Violet means the world to us. I'd be inclined to end our chat there, like, to not overstep, but you said you had an interest in curses... how familiar are you with the Crypt?"

“I am not personally familiar with the Crypt, but after looking into the phenomenon, I have a few haunches. It’s an extra-dimensional space that seems to expand near-infinitely, accessible from certain locations in the world. Kind of like… well, kind of like The Backrooms, a popular online community fiction."

[A very long explanation of Alice and Jason's experiences with the Crypt later...]

"From what you’ve shown me, the [location] with the [monsters] seems to be ‘crafted’ in an uncanny facsimile of an actual place. Similarly, the deeper parts of the Crypt seem the same. I suspect that there may be an entity responsible for the phenomenon… especially since it seems to be a ‘new’ manifestation. There’s not much history on it.” A pause. “I believe that I have a way to pause the symptoms of your curse. Though I cannot claim that it’s a terribly comfortable way to do it.”

"To be fair, nearly dying due to not being in the right location and feeling ill at all times outside of the location is also not terribly comfortable. And presently I'm in a hotel room with a supernatural, powerful doctor who has offered to kill and resurrect one of us to see if that breaks the curse--like, if it's attached to our life force. Also not comfortable." Alice sounds sarcastically dry. "Ah, sorry..." She switches back to a professional, neutral tone. "All that being said, I'm open to hearing your suggestion."

“Don’t apologize. Sarcasm is basically the only way that Contractors can communicate in a healthy way,” Amy laughs, “It, unfortunately, involves killing a person a month to renew the effects of the ritual. Doing it for an extended period of time makes the effects permanent. I have not personally used it, but I know it works,” she says… and you know everything she is saying is true. “Killing yourself then getting revived is likely more comfortable for you, at least morally. But I offer you an option.”

A long pause. "That means we'd be giving Dr. Buckworth regular business, I suppose. How do you know it works? And, other than resurrection, does the ritual have to involve you or others?"

“Ah, Terry. Good guy. I have personally seen the effects. It also allows a person who has done it for long enough to shrug off a killing blow,” truth, “My version of the ritual involves me and the participant. And, I am particularly suited to storing the blood necessary for the ritual. I’m unsure if the good doctor would be able to revive a body that has been completely drained of blood… but to be entirely honest, I’ve never thought about doing it like that. Might be a clever idea. Oh. And a body without a heart. Look, I didn’t say it was pleasant.”

“Once a month, we would need you to drain us completely of blood and remove our hearts to perform a ritual. Terry could also be involved, but he's not necessary--which means you can resurrect us yourself--is that correct?" Alice is so glad this conversation is happening on a confidential line. "Also, would this ritual be of any benefit to you?"

“Terry would need to be involved. I cannot revive someone from the dead nor create a new heart for someone. Not yet, anyway,” she thinks for a moment, “I’m growing my connections. I’ve grown tired of feeling like a stray without a real home. Helping you means that we can help each other in the future. I wish to create a coven of like-minded supernaturals and occultists, where we can research and be safe. Having you and other Contractors as an asset would be much appreciated when the framework is built. I do not ask for payment beyond what is required for the ritual, a human body worth of blood and its heart, still warm. And the promise that you will help me as I have helped you.”

"Jason and Abbas and I were also strays until we found each other--Violet too, I suppose. I'm in the process of creating my own group as well, with much more of a screening process than the Knights of Equestria. A network that prioritizes privacy and confidential communication to support the exchange of goods and services. We don't have to agree or have the same goals to help each other. I have two more questions for you, Amy. First, who invited you to Bu Fang's dinner party?"

“Mark Collins.”

"Thank you. Since the ceremony requires two people and Jason is currently a frog, I guess we’ll have to wait until he de-transforms to do this--which, honestly, should be any day now."

“Very well.”

A long pause. "Also, are you aware that Kevin Sparkles is dead?"

“I am. I didn’t realize that you knew him. I offered to research a way to bring him back from the dead. That kind of ritual needs… well, the kind of payment we get from the higher ups.” 

"To be honest, I barely knew him. Kevin saved Jason's life alongside Bu Fang. Both are practically strangers to me, and they asked for nothing in return. In fact, they proceeded to give us even more help after that--a kind of radical, nearly insane generosity. As a part of that, I'm half-way a member of Kevin's group at this point... which is right where I'd like to stay.

Thank you for honoring Kevin and his family with your services." Another pause. "Right now I'm in need--I don't have much help to offer you or others besides making connections and healing the mind. But I won't always be trapped here; I will have more to give in time. If that's something you're willing to believe, then I would be grateful if you came to Detroit as soon as you can."

“Contractors are investments. But they are good investments. I understand.”

"Thank you."

“We’ll schedule this when the two of you are ready. I hope that Terry really is as good of a doctor as he says he is.”

"I just witnessed him resurrect a bug. Assuming it's the same amount of effort regardless of the creature's size and he's as honest as he appears to be, he can pull this off."

“Alright… I’ll bring my supplies. I have enough blood and a heart to perform the ritual on you once without needing to risk your death. Taken from a cultist on my previous job. That way, we can check if the curse is suspended without killing you."

"... You said you have a way to save that blood and that heart, right--like preserve it?" She harvested a cultist?

“I do,” Amy thinks for a moment, “Oh, the man was killed in self-defense to be clear. Real bastard, trying to sacrifice a teenager, too,” Truth.

Alice sighs. The way she called using her power and Amy's phone as a conduit makes her voice (and sigh) crystal clear, as though they're sitting side by side. "I think you should save it then, for if you'll need to perform the ceremony on us or someone else when we don't have a supernatural doctor present. And, as I said, we don't have to agree to collaborate. But, thank you for the additional details about the man."

After about thirty minutes, Alice re-emerges from the bathroom. First, she scoops up Jason from the queen bed (the frog was hop-playing with Violet to pass the time). Turning to Terry: "Thank you so much for waiting. Amy believes she knows of a way to suppress the effects of the curse which, if she performs the blood ritual once a month for several months, could permanently suppress the effects. The ritual would involve death and resurrection. That being said, we could perform two tests in one go and see if that results in the curse being totally gone or at least suppressed. Would you be willing to proceed with this once Jason turns back into a human? It should be any day now…"

“Sure. I can do that.”

"Thank you. So that we're all on the same page, the ritual involves removing the heart and draining the body of blood. At that point, we'd be looking to you, Doctor, to revive Jason..." Alice holds Jason up to look at the amphibian eye to eye. "Are you still willing to be the first test subject?"

“Rrriiiibbbbiiiitt.”

Turning back to Terry: "Jason has consented. I'm sure you haven't been asked this before, but what's the fastest, most painless way to..." She glances over at Violet, who has now acquired a bag of potato chips (which she is again struggling to open). "... put a human to not-so-eternal rest? I'm leaning towards poison, if there is one that's easy enough to obtain and that's sufficiently potent. Although if you can somehow put us under, supernaturally or not, I suppose more straightforward approaches wouldn't matter so long as it doesn't, like, make a mess..." Her brow furrows and she speaks quieter. "I get the feeling Amy would be willing to help with that route, if we asked her." Contractors were indeed insane.

Terry uses a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “It’s a simple matter, really. We just need a location. I have an office we could use after hours. But we might as well rent a small space and set something up makeshift here. Probably more private that way.”

"Simple..." Alice takes in a deep slow breath as she presses a thumb on her temple. Frankly, absolutely nothing in her life feels simple. But it is almost comforting to hear that Terry considers the answer to her question of a clean, easy, relatively painless suicide so easy. She looks in the direction of the invisible Abbas, based on his scent, and then down at the frog. "What do we think about using our apartment?" Nearly two months ago, when an FBI agent busted through their apartment window (and so many things went down in their lives), Alice and Jason abandoned it, sending Abbas in to retrieve only a few small personal items. However, Alice continued to pay for it, including coordinating with the landlord to repair the window. Because a dead body found in a law enforcement vehicle curbside meant that the best thing for them to do was nothing sudden or unusual that might tie them to the crime scene. Yet, not sure if both of their identities had been compromised, their second home felt unsafe. Seven weeks later, Mel still hasn't been interrogated by the FBI, Alice's bank accounts remain functional, and no one has visited the apartment (according to the couple of cameras they set up). Perhaps the space could be of some use again.

“My private practice works fine. And it has medical facilities set up.”

Bu Fang said it would wear off in a month. Two months later, Jason Decker snuggled down on a damp hand towel on a pillow on the edge of the bed, still an amphibian. 

Alice lay on her side, facing him. "Any day now, honey," she said each night, trying to console her nervous, impatient friend and 'husband' as she gently stroked his little head with a finger for a few minutes before bedtime. Limited to only looks, hopping, and ribbeting, Alice began calling Jason the endearing terms with less sarcasm and more sincerity (although he never got another kiss). He probably had a pile of sassy comments stored up, but for now he is at her mercy.

To accommodate for their lack of a guard in the evenings, Alice barricaded the open end of the hallway (where several months earlier they had set up camp) with furniture. She had movers deliver the tall bookshelves, dresser, and several sets of headboards to the museum's backyard. Then, when no one was watching, she moved them in using her increasingly effective telekinesis skills. The barricade was more so that the enemies would have to go to some trouble to get to the sleeping trio, and things on the shelves would knock down in the process, alerting them. Thus far, it only happened once, to which Alice calmly shooed Violet outside and then shot the intruder to pieces. The frog was proud. 

Since Jason was rescued and the evacuation of their nearby apartment, the 'camp' evolved as the situation felt less temporary. The hallway is now set up like a bedroom: a full bed with a foam mattress on a large rug, modern tapestries on the decrepit walls (to prevent dust and decay from falling on them), a lamp, a pump water dispenser, a futon couch (for when Jason turned back), and the barricade. The shelves are filled with books and games and toys for Violet. 

Jason just sits on his towel, enjoying the petting. Any day now she says! Easy for you to say when you're not a frog... "Ribbit" is all Alice hears.

Alice giggles and finally says something she'd been holding back. "You know, this whole thing makes Kevin Sparkles my knight in shining armor and you the damsel in distress." She shakes the Friendship Bracelet in front of him, showing it off for a moment, and then sticking out her tongue. 

Violet is already asleep, snuggled up against Alice's back and snuggling Scratch (who, unbeknownst to her, is a replacement after the original got left behind in a pool of blood on the driver's seat floor of Dallas Smith's vehicle). Not needing to play 'mommy' nor 'wife,' this is a totally relaxed Alice, a side Jason had barely seen until his frog form.

It might not have felt possible that they could spend more time together, but somehow they did over the duration of his 'second curse.' Alice fed Jason, kept him damp with a spray bottle, set up a mildly warmed bowl of water for him to enjoy at camp, and kept him in her messenger bag (even cutting a hole in it so that he could see what was going on in the world) as she ran errands. She also protected him, including telekinetically shoving a cat away when he and Violet were playing in the backyard. When in less populated areas, which took a long Uber ride to get to, as Violet ran free to catch bugs (to eat and for Daddy to eat), Jason rode on her shoulder in the open. Alice had opened up to him when they first got cursed about the things she wanted in life. Now, trapped as a listener, the cursed psychologist shared about her desire for Violet to be safe and happy (with them or with her real family), her desire to be with Jason indefinitely, and her desire to break the curse and do what she had originally set out to do--heal children.

Jason also learned all the little things about his 'wife.' Her deceased mother, her now mentally disabled father, her favorite color, the development of her digestive problems as a child, her favorite music and movies, her college experiences (including a professor who sexually harassed her). And the future plans to retrieve Shadow Killer, remove the demon, and finally go after that traitor. Eventually there wasn't much more for her to say. For the past week, she was instead peacefully quiet. 

The frog turns his head to look at Alice and just glares before “... ribbit…”

She giggles again at his protest and then says simply, "'Night."

When the girls fall asleep, Jason hops from his towel and walks the perimeter before going back to the girls and nestling in for the night. I can still patrol the area anyway, he thinks, before he too falls asleep.

The girls, sleeping soundly, are startled awake by a loud thud next to the bed. As they look around the room, blurry eyed, all they hear from the corner is "owww..." then a brief pause as the blanket is being slowly pulled off of the other side of the bed. "This is awkward..."

"J-jason?" Alice, now sitting up, stops reaching for the handgun on the nightstand and instead turns on the battery-powered lamp while peering over the edge of the bed. As she does, the pulled blanket fully leaves the bed, covering what it should just in time. "JASON!" she declares excitedly, seeing him in human form (albeit with a bruised forehead from colliding with the nightstand on the way down). 

"Mommy?" Violet asks, rubbing her eyes and blinking, waking up much more slowly.

"Not monsters--Daddy's back, honey!" Alice declares as she kisses Violet on the head. 

The girls see Jason rest one arm on the bed as he rubs his head with the other. "Hey Nugget! Miss me?" he says to the sleepy girl with a smile. He then looks at Alice and with a wink. "The Prince is back, baby!" He slowly stands, getting used to having human legs again, blanket wrapped around his waist. "You can have this back when I get some pants… Who wants waffles?"

Alice shakes her head disapprovingly while grinning, her face also slightly reddening, as Violet scampers over her and then launches off of the edge of the bed into Daddy's arms. He barely secures the blanket in time to open his arms and catch her. "Waffles!" the little girl declares in agreement. While her co-parent was a wordless frog, Mommy had severely limited her access to processed foods. Jason receives the biggest, tightest hug Violet can muster. 

"I didn't know your exact size, so there's a couple of pairs of jeans and stuff in the dresser ..." Alice adds, her gaze lingering at his bruise.

Jason returns the embrace. He pulls Violet back to look at her face-to-face. "Maybe we'll get cheeseburgers later, or pizza!" She’s giddy. Then he looks over at the blushing Alice. "Thanks, hun," he says with a grin. He looks back at Violet, "Daddy's gonna get dressed and then we'll get some waffles, ok?" He heads over to the dresser and grabs an outfit of the appropriate size and turns to girls. "No peeking." When the two cover their eyes he gets changed. When he's done, instead of speaking he tosses the blanket at Alice. He chuckles "Man, I got a lot of catching up to do!" He claps his hands together. "Now we get waffles!"

Violet uncovers her eyes--failing to resist peeking--as the bundled up blanket collides with Alice's head. She laughs. "Jason!" Alice protests, partially muffled, as she pulls the blanket off. Her eyes and the blanket glow silver as it balls up in front of her, about to be launched at his head telekinetically.

Jason just stands there, blanket half draped over his head and body. He lets out a laugh that's been stored up for two months. When he finally is able to stop himself he sighs. "I missed this..."

Alice laughs too, sparking more giggles from Violet. "Two whole months of reprieve!" Alice declares as she hops out of bed. Then she rummages through a pile of clothes neatly folded in containers under the bed. At the moment, she's wearing gray sweatpants and a sports bra. "Lemme grab a shirt and then we'll get those damn waffles."

"Vacations over now, babe." He says with a wink. Taking the blanket and placing it back on the bed, he looks at Alice. "You eat bugs for two months and tell me even you wouldn't want some real food."

Alice pulls a workout shirt on as she replies, "Waffles aren't real food, honey." Yup, back to normal indeed.

The night after Jason turned back into a frog, in their makeshift bedroom complete with barricade, Jason lays Violet down on one side of the full bed which is shared by the two girls. Alice, still in (a fully covering) sports bra and sweatpants, sits cross-legged on the futon that is currently a couch. A cheap laptop is atop a stool for the family to watch My Little Pony. However, Violet drifted off after only one episode. Getting up early to appease the Daddy's (celebratory) waffle cravings followed by a full day of activities together as a family--for she had deeply missed his human presence--left the little girl exhausted. Alice watches her 'husband' tuck in Violet, complete with setting Scratch beside her. Staring at Jason as he returns to his own bed (currently a couch), the sleepy yet practically glowing woman with messy hair seems lost in thought.

After tucking in his daughter and Scratch and giving her kiss on the forehead, Jason unceremoniously plops down on the futon next to Alice. Exhausted from his first day back in human form he looks over at her. "You have that look on your face like I said something really smart or really stupid."

"Stupid is usually a safe bet, but this time it's neither." As Alice speaks, she looks at the dresser and bookshelves several feet away. Her eyes glow silver as she pulls something small off of a high shelf--Jason's (replacement) wedding ring. The original was probably beside Shadow Killer in some evidence box in Texas. Also glowing silver, the ring floats over to him until he snatches out of the air. "I didn't get this one engraved since that could tie your future identity to your sullied one..." She closes her eyes and her brow furrows. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Frankly, depending on what we do with Violet in the long term, we might not need them."

"We're having that conversation." Jason takes the ring and places it on finger. He then looks up at the ceiling. 

Alice sighs as she watches Jason put on the ring. Hers has been on over the past two months as well. "Also, I'm sure you owe your mom a call..." The comment is relevant. In his parents' eyes, Jason is married and has a young step-daughter. And, depending on how much news they watch and whether they were questioned by the FBI, he's a supernatural criminal at large. Ironically, neither of them own cell phones at the moment. Both lost them during the fallout of the last Contract. And Alice doesn't need one, technically. When she absolutely has to receive a call, she borrows Abbas's burn phone.

"Yeah... maybe give that one a few more days."

"Maybe." Alice sighs again. Then, for the first time ever, she leans on Jason, resting her head on his shoulder. "I haven't contacted Albert for new identities because I don't know if we need them--or who we want to be... or how long we'll have her." Still whispering, her eyes are shut. She's fiddling with her wedding ring.

Jason absently rests his arm around his 'wife' looking over at the sleeping Violet. "She could've been there 10 months or 10 years for all we know. See if Albert can find any missing persons cases that match her. I think it's only fair to find out who she really is and if she has anyone looking for her." He lets out a sigh. "I know if I lost her I wouldn't stop until I found her again, we owe her that much." Jason rests his head on the back of the couch and closes his eyes, exhausted from the days events and the weight of the current conversation. "We can start looking into those schools in the meantime, just in case."

Alice nods. Two identity-less American citizens, beaten down Contractors, tired parents, and friends. It was nice that he could talk back now though. On the topic of friends... "And her 'friend'--what approach do we want to take there? Tame, exterminate, or ignore for now?" Thankfully the demon had been dormant, although over the past two months it sometimes took Alice a lot of Charismatic savvy to navigate parenting Violet without upsetting her too much. Even the most angelic of children could occasionally be little monsters, and this one housed a literal monster.

"We can't ignore it forever. Tame, yes...exterminate, maybe." He lets out another sigh. "How do you even try to negotiate with something like that?" Jason squeezes Alice in a side hug as he gets up from the futon. "Get some sleep, we'll talk about it more tomorrow after some rest. I'm going to get some air before I keep watch." With that he heads out of the room towards the museum's exit. As he leaves, Alice can see the glint of metal peeking from the back of his pajama's waistband.

"Be safe, Jason--come home." Was it a command or a request? 

On the dresser is their 'wedding photo' taken from within the crypt, one of the few things that Alice asked Abbas to swipe for their apartment after they abandoned it. (Physically abandoned it. On paper they were still renters to avoid the creation of any suspicious ties between the broken apartment window and Dallas Smith's body found curbside outside and to test if their Decker identities were still under scrutiny. Nevertheless, after the FBI agent showed up there, Alice didn't consider the space to be safe anymore). The back door quietly clicked shut. Alice sat on the couch for a while longer--looking at the decorated, lived in, yet still undeniably decrepit prison they lived in--before finally going to bed. Somehow she wasn't as worried about Jason as she might have been before their last job, as though the heartfelt goodbyes she had said to him then covered her heart into the future. After all, everyone in her line of work was insane.

During a 30-hour drive across the country from Detroit to Terry’s medical practice in Idaho, Alice borrows Abbas’s burn phone to check the news. He’ll be spending the weekend at their previously abandoned apartment with Violet; he doesn’t need it. 

The video recorded murder of a werewolf by a supernatural teenager who goes by the handle SilverHeartedWolf online (and who is an Illuminated werewolf) gets Alice’s attention. That same small town in Indiana is a place that she and Mel will never forget. Coincidence? After a restless night asleep in the backseat--using a folded up blanket from their Crypt home and the leg of the awake, alert, and now fully human Jason Decker as a pillow--she checks the news again to discover the mysterious kidnapping of a minor suspect from a police station. Concerned for the child and suspecting that there are dots to connect, Alice begins to do the second best thing she’s good at: calling people.

The Kit

Charlie receives a phone call early in the morning, even if her phone is dead or on silent or she has no reception as long as the phone (or a laptop or any other electronic device that sends and receives audio) is in her possession. The caller is somehow saved in her phone as "A Friend" and shows the profile picture of a dog's paw print. 

Alice hears the phone pick up, after calling persistently, to the voice of SilverHeartedWolf, and another grumbling nearby. “Hullo? Who is this?”

The crystal clear voice of a serious adult woman with a West Coast accent--so clear that she could be standing right next to you. "Wolf Girl, this Allie, and I'm calling you on a supernaturally confidential line. It cannot be heard by anyone else around you, even if it's on speaker, and it cannot be recorded. Would you like to see if that's true?"

“No need, but I’ll stop you right there. I literally just got off a job, I don’t need another one right now. The team will do alright without me.”

"I'm not one of them, I'm one of you."

“Huh. Give me just a minute then.” You hear the phone be put down, then something be said to someone else in the room. The phone is then moved somewhere else, and you hear the significantly less sleepy “Wolf Girl” on the line. “I’m listening.”

"I have been on seven jobs and only successfully completed five of them. On one of those jobs, I went to a hospital in Goshen, Indiana. Based on the news and your social media, I'm guessing you took a job very similar to mine." Alice pauses. Anyone else listening to her hears nothing, and if they look at the phone it shows no call is happening--only a dark screen.

“Seven for seven here. And yeah, Goshen, the works. One casualty on each side of that one.”

"Obviously one of you survived, and it's not my business to know which one it is. I'm calling because I want to know about your teammates. Was there another minor in your group?" 

“Yes, the Kit was in our group. Both survived and were in police custody awaiting escort last I saw. I had to bail though, I wish I could’ve stayed.” 

"One of them has been kidnapped, and I'm looking into if I have the power to help. Other than 'the Kit', do you know her name, an alias, or anything else about her?"

“Minerva is her name. I’m not at liberty to share much else of hers unless you tell me why you need this information.”

Minerva McAlaster, the 10-year-old Contractor that Akira had semi-referred to the Network. Alice could stop there, but it might feel more natural if she learned about Minerva from her friend--and there wasn't any real risk for pushing for it. "Wise, Wolf Girl. I'm in the middle of my own mess right now, with a demon-possessed daughter and a curse that ties me to a physical location, at pain of death. But I have powerful friends, and I can make these phone calls to try to help out wherever I can, even total strangers. If I have Minerva's full name or her scent, or if I know exactly what she looks like, then I can try to call her. The same is true of anyone, including the kidnapper. I'm hoping to understand what happened to determine where I might be able to support, whether it's helping to find the missing one or helping the found one through this difficult time, as I'm also a licensed psychologist."

“Many hats, a useful person to know. Minerva McAlaster is her name. I’d offer a scent but Google hasn’t figured that one out yet. Call me if you figure out what is going on.”

"I will most certainly be calling you back, if only to check on how you're doing. But you're in less of a bind than they are. Talk to you later." The call ends. There is no history of there being a call.

Trust

Minerva's eyes open slowly, wiggling her nose, as she wakes up on the plane where she fell, the escort from Faraday sitting anxiously next to her. She looks down at her phone as it's buzzing, and she picks it up. She looks at the caller ID before answering it. It shows someone who is, oddly, saved in Minerva's contacts as "A Friend" with the profile picture of a dog paw print. Unusual to get a phone call in the middle of a flight, when her cellphone is on airplane mode and has no reception.

Minerva is still half asleep, and the fact that her phone was in airplane mode and really shouldn't be getting a call doesn't quite occur to her yet. A friend? The dog paw print didn't really surprise her, more than half of her contacts were like that.

"...Hello?" A tired voice says.

The crystal clear voice of a serious adult woman with a West Coast accent--so clear that she could be seated right next to you. "Hello Minerva. Are you safe right now?" 

There's a short pause, as Minerva starts to fully start her mind. She looks around the plane for a moment. This was where she was expected to be, and she knew the escort was honest. "...Yes? Who is this?"

"My name is Allie, I'm one of you, and I called you to see if I can help you and your twin sister."

"...One of us?" She sits up fully. "One of us, what?" The phone thing occurs to her--how was she being called? Was this about a job? But as soon as the sentence completes, she sucks in a breath. "How can you help? Someone kidnapped her."

"I know. I'm not sure how I can help, but this call is evidence that I'm willing to find out. And it's possible that I have a friend or two who would be willing to help too. But first I have a few questions for you that will help me understand the situation better--starting with, why do you go on these jobs?" A brief pause. "Actually... the first thing I should explain is that no one can hear our conversation--it is supernaturally confidential. Although they will see you messing with your phone, so I recommend not holding it up to your ear and turning on speaker." 

Minerva wiggles her nose a bit more. "Okay... and okay..." She nods slightly--not that Allie could see it--as she listens. "Um..." This did feel just a tiny bit 'stranger danger', but.. the young girl listens some. "Okay." She turns on the speaker phone and sets it in her lap, which wasn't too weird for her. "Can you hear me?" She glances over at the escort, to see if they were reacting. If no... "How do you know me?"

"I noticed the news coming from Goshen, Indiana--including the murder of a werewolf, the Silver Wolf Girl's response on social media, and then one of the suspects, a minor, going missing from police custody. So I called Wolf Girl, confirmed that what happened there is what I was suspecting might have happened, and made sure she knew that one of you was in trouble based on the latest news report. And then she shared your name--which is all that I need to call you. Aside from your full name, the fact that you're a minor, and you're one of us, I don't know much about you." The escort does not react to Minerva talking nor the voice of Allie coming through her smartphone. 

Minerva listens a little. "Oh. Charlie." There's a pause, and she wiggles her nose. "...I guess 'one of us' is people who go on these jobs?" She scratches behind an ear. "I... I don't know. I need to." There's a pause. "I guess that's kind of a lame answer. I... life was empty, before. Nothing made me happy. This... these jobs give me a chance to be happy. And I know if I do enough of them I will be."

Alice sighs. This Contractor is 10 years old. Many thoughts and feelings begin to crowd, but she pushes them away. "No answers are lame when they're spoken in truth. Thank you for sharing. I originally went on these jobs to become an undercover mental health healer for children. However, my situation has changed. At the moment, I'm just trying to get a demon out of my adoptive daughter and break a curse on me and my husband--and help my friends."

The young girl wiggles her nose a little as she leans back in her seat a little. "...Maybe?" She's heard people say there's no stupid questions, but she heard lots of stupid questions in school. She thinks this is sorta like that. There are definitely lame answers. She knows Alice believes that, though, so she doesn't comment. Most adults don't like it when they're contradicted. She wiggles her nose some. "An... undercover one?" She raises her eyebrows. "...A demon out of your adoptive daughter, and a curse?" There's a pause. "Your life is interesting." There's another pause, longer. Saying she'd like to be Alice's friend sounds self-serving. But... "If you help me, I can help you? I... I have abilities. You know. The things we get from these jobs..."

"Of course. Before I start asking you more questions, what else would you like to know about me? I'd normally give you my real name and refer you to the website of my mental health practice, but I gave up my identity to my twin and then later got into some trouble with my new identity. So at the moment I have no real name to offer you."

Minerva nods slightly, wiggling her nose some. "Um. Your twin--was she like my twin? A... double?"

"Yes she is. I would appreciate it if you keep that between us, Minerva. She is my sister, and I love her."

nods. "Okay. I know how to keep a secret." She smiles some. "Okay." There's a short pause. "Is she a good person?"

"She is. We respectfully disagree on how to make the world a better place, but on everything else we are aligned. What about yours?"

There's a pause. "...I think so. I think she was just scared and angry when she woke up and did some things, but... I think she's just scared and angry and not a bad person." She nods after. "Are you planning to double cross me at all?"

Another pause. "That's a wise question to consider but odd of you to vocalize. If I was planning to double cross you, would I answer your question honestly? Or are you that confident in your ability to discern truth from lies?" Then a chuckle. "I did say I would answer your questions though--sorry, that one caught me off guard. No, I'm not planning on double crossing you. Even if doing so could remove a demon from its host, break a curse, or get me one step closer to my original goal--I'm just here to see if I can help you in any way." 

Minerva smiles just a little. "Maybe just hearing you say it would be nice. It's nice to hear..." she wiggles her nose a little at the deflection before Alice follows it up. She lets out a breath after hearing those words. "Thank you." She opens her mouth to ask the question she just realized she'd missed before Alice carries on. And Minerva decides that's close enough. "I believe you. I won't double cross you either."

"Thank you." Alice keeps to herself that, presently, Minerva doesn't have much to use for double crossing her--no names, no faces, no contact information or locations. But this wasn't the time to be instructive (and the lopsided amount of information could change in time). "Do you have another question? I'm willing to answer one more before I ask for it to be my turn." 

The young girl pauses, thinking. She thinks on everything she's seen, what she's gotten... and then what Alice has said. "Has it been worth it, for you?"

Alice immediately feels the tension between saying what she wants Minerva to hear, for Minerva's sake, and actually answering the question. Stop. This path nearly always leads to an early death--if not of the body then of the soul. The bodies of the twins on the news. Her 'final goodbyes' to Jason. The recent funeral. Bu Fang's broken mental state. But that wasn't what Minerva asked. And that was only half of the story.

"The answer I give you today might change tomorrow, if someone I love dies or suffers because of me. And my answer is this: sometimes things must be torn down before they can be rebuilt. I have been stripped to the core by these jobs. Now I am rebuilding, and what I'm building--both on my own and with the help of others--isn't what I had expected. It's... much different and much better than I ever could have known--as though, like, the darkness of life became darker... but the light also got much brighter." A pause. "I am finding--or maybe, like, deciding (?) who I am, especially as I look into the eyes of my friends and family--friends and family I have made as a result of these jobs.

However, I don't enjoy teasing death nor putting those I care about in danger. And I've already seen too many deaths--or worse. I intend on solving some of my current problems, completing a few more jobs, and then stopping. Because although it has been worth it for me up to this point, my intention is to take what I want from it and then live my life--like, for myself and for others." 

Minerva nods slightly, and listens in silence as Alice speaks. After she finishes, there's a long pause. "...I understand. I think." She wiggles her nose. "I promised someone I would quit the jobs when I was strong enough. I just don't know when I'll be strong enough." She wiggles her nose some. "I hope it's soon." She had multiple conflicting thoughts... but she couldn't quit going, not now. Not when she was so close. "I hope no one you love dies or suffers because of you." She sat a moment in silence, just thinking. She hadn't been stripped to the core. Not yet. But.. might that happen to her? Or was she already at that point? That sounded self-pitying, but.. she didn't start this as a lark.

"When you are strong enough is for you to decide. I suggest making some trustworthy friends and keeping them close--they will also make you strong."

Minerva is willing to just listen and answer for a little bit; Alice did that for her. "I'll keep that in mind." At the end of this, she did hope Alice would be her friend. "It's your turn now."

"Thank you, Minerva. If I can, I'm open to helping you and I'm open to helping your twin. First, you. Do you have a home to go to--somewhere that you feel safe and aren't alone?"

Minerva nods after the question. "Yes. I do. I'm being taken there now." She felt safe at Faraday, and she definitely wasn't alone. It took her a moment to realize that she did consider Faraday home, rather than just where she was staying. She was happy there. More than she'd been before. Not that there was anything wrong with her place with her parents, intellectually.

"Good, I'm really glad to hear it. Now, please tell me about the kidnapping of your twin--everything you know and are willing to share, if it's not too difficult for you to talk about."

There's a pause, and then, in a quiet voice, Minerva asks "Can I trust you?"

"You can trust that I'm here to help, and I'll only share your story--the necessary parts--with those I trust in order to try to help you and her."

Minerva starts to speak, at the beginning. It felt good to tell someone, rather than just writing it all down in her journal. She tells how she first saw her clone, exactly what happened, how it burnt into her memory. How she tracked her to the police station, not knowing what she'd do when she got there. How she ended up getting arrested and thrown in a cell with her double. How she'd spoken with them, how she learned Mars' name and that she was just scared and angry and not evil. How she'd found out that their dreamscapes were connected.

Eventually, she got to the morning, when Ms. Wumbra came. She describes the pair being sleepy, only half listening. How they took Mars away, and then didn't come back. She describes the woman as well as she can, and the fact that by the time the Faraday escort got here they were gone. How she went into Mars' dreamscape, the other girl was passed out, and the last memories she'd seen. She describes how the other person had been burnt out of the memory. It all comes out in one long story, with the young girl barely stopping to breathe. She's obviously somewhat worked up towards the end, and when she finishes she's just quiet, panting a little. 

Alice then listens quietly, with only the occasional mhm and okay to affirm she's still there and listening. At the end of it, Alice waits for a moment to let the girl rest. When she speaks, her tone still neutral and composed. She continues to say the truth as she knows it. "I'm sorry that you're going through this, Minerva. This is a lot for anyone to have to bear. I just have one or two more questions, and then I'm going to call some of my friends.”

She nods a little. "Okay. As long as you trust them." She starts to speak. 

“Is there anyone you know of or any group that might have wanted to kidnap you before you went on this job?" 

There's a long pause at the end, before Minerva shakes her head. "No... I don't think so. My parents have money, and they were always kinda scared of me being kidnapped? But I don't know of anyone in particular..."

"That's okay; the answer is still helpful. Do you happen to remember where Mars walked when she stepped out of the police station and the type of car that she got into?"

A pause. "And about what time it was when she left the station? I know this is a lot of details--if you don't remember, that's okay."

Minerva nods a little. She still remembers Mars' memories. She describes the car and where it was parked. She can also give about the time... ish...

"Got it. Are there any skills or powers that you both have that I should be aware of that might help us find or rescue her?"

There's another long pause... but she did trust Alice. "...I don't know..." she feels a bit uncomfortable--she hadn't really ever said this out loud. "I can shapeshift. I can... kinda... teleport, a little, if I focus really hard. It's getting easier. I can kinda make things. For a little bit. They're fragile, though. And... um..." her voice drops. "I can tell people to do things, and they'll do them. So... um... It would be really hard for them to hold her when she's awake, I think. ... I trust you..."

"Thank you. I trust you too. And I can communicate confidentially like this, avoid harm from anyone I haven't harmed, heal the mind of some illnesses, identify smells and very small vibrations, and manipulate the world telekinetically." All true. “Here's my last question for now. If my friends and I manage to find Mars, what can we tell her to prove that we're on your side, safe, and only trying to help her?"

This might not be relevant if one of the kidnappers can wipe memories, Alice thinks to herself, but if he can wipe memories then he wouldn't need to get Mars to "lock her out" when she awoke. Wouldn't it be easier to have Minerva entirely forgotten? These people seemed to know a lot about Minerva and Mars though, if that comment was referring to their dreamscapes being connected. And that is one of many things about this situation that concerned Alice.

Why take just the clone when they could have easily taken both? And how did they know that these minor suspects (who's actions didn't go viral like SilverWolfGirl's) are in fact supernaturals? Perhaps they made the same connections Alice did from the first news, but that would mean... they are Contractors? Definitively talented supernaturals who knew exactly what they were doing... The whole thing feels like something big. As per usual. 

Minerva nods, listening to that... and also taking note of “heal the mind of some illnesses.” Honestly, she might need that at some point. But she didn't right now. Right now she needed help in other ways. "That all sounds cool."

She goes quiet at the question of how to prove to Mars that they were on her side. She's obviously thinking, going back over their conversations. What could be said. What had been said. She'd meant it all at the time, believed it all. But there was one thing that had stuck with her, and she was still trying to reconcile. "Tell her she was wrong. That her twin doesn't want to play second fiddle. She wants to play first." She listens to her own words as she says that... and she wasn't sure what to think when she realized that wasn't a lie. She looks down at her lap, wiggling her nose. Oh dear.

"Alright." Alice also notes to share more about her relationship with her own twin, when and if the timing seems right, assuming that's what the message referred to. But not now. "The next step is seeing who might be interested, available, and sufficiently skilled to take this on... Minerva, I'm not making any promises that we'll find Mars. I know that it's hard--risky to have hope... I'll do what I can. And I'll let you know if I have more questions or an update to share, okay?"

The young girl takes a few moments to be drawn out of her thoughts after saying that. She looks down into her hand, and a small sphere of dim light appears. She gingerly plays with it as she thinks. "...I'll find her. I promise you." Truth. Minerva genuinely believed that. She nods a bit after. "Thank you, though, for your help. Okay. Is... your number in my phone now? Or how can I contact you?"

Alice does not comment on the girl's promise. She knows that Minerva will have and already has a lot to work through, whether Mars is found or not. "You're welcome. I cannot presently be contacted, but I can call you so long as you have something that sends and receives audio--a phone, laptop, even, like, Airpods without a phone." A pause. "You're going to have to keep trusting me. And ... maybe someday we'll meet." 

Minerva nods a little. "Okay..." Well, if she found Mars first, she'd just have to go get her herself. That's fine. That's what she was expecting to do anyways. Well. Maybe she'd call Charlie. Charlie was nice. And she'd call- 

She looks down, slumping a little. "...Yeah. Okay."

A long pause. "At the moment, I primarily live in another dimension. Even if I borrowed a friend's burn phone, I'm rarely in places that get reception. But how about I check in with you every couple of hours for the rest of today, just so that we're in touch about any new developments?"

"... another dimension?" The weirdest part was that wasn't a lie. How powerful was Alice? Maybe she was being arrogant, thinking she could be that powerful. Or maybe as long as she kept doing these jobs... maybe she'd be that powerful one day. Being able to travel to other dimensions. "... okay." She lets out a breath. "Thank you. I'm... I'm sure you're busy otherwise--" how could someone as powerful as Alice not be? "--but... thank you for helping. Just... when you can, is good."

"I will. Goodbye for now." The call ends, lingering only for a second before the phone screen goes dark. There is no record of the call in the girl's phone, and no saved contact of "A Friend."

Minerva just stares at the phone for a little bit before letting out a breath. She wasn't tired anymore. She just has to wait until they get back to Faraday now. She starts to draw in the air with light, entertaining herself. She was getting better at it...

Quid Pro Quo

Inspector Bluedo receives a phone call, even if his phone is dead, broken, or on silent. The caller is somehow saved in his phone's contact list as "Norton's Friend" with the profile picture of a dog paw print.

Bluedo spies the curious caller ID. He thinks for a moment. "Norton...Ah! Emperor Norton! Must be some contact of his." He answers the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello Inspector Bluedo," a professional young woman's voice greets him. It has a West Coast accent and is unusually crisp and clear, as though she's standing right there. "My name is Allie. I've just now become aware of a kidnapping of a supernatural child in Goshen, Indiana. This child and her twin sister are my friends, and one of the two girls was taken against her will from a local police station by several supernaturals like ourselves. I've been asking around, and Emperor Norton recommended you as a talented investigator. Is this something you'd be willing to help me with?"

"A kidnapping you say? And on recommendation from the Emperor of the United States?! It sounds like a case! I would be happy to help!"

"Thank you! Where are you currently located, and what specific skills do you bring to this endeavor?"

"I am currently at my office in Los Angeles, California. Aside from being a top investigator, I bring skills in tracking, some light stealth, a smidge of self defense, a touch of healing, and a strange new thing where I can move things from a distance. What about you, Miss Allie? Quid pro quo, you seem to know quite a bit about me, yet I know almost nothing about you."

"Of course, Inspector." As though she expected that. "I'm located in a haunted building in Detroit--a curse keeps me here almost always. In terms of my own abilities, I similarly can move things from a distance--telekinesis--and I pretty well avoid harm from those I haven't harmed. I can also 'call' people I've never met based on knowing what they look like, what they smell like, their name, or their alias. These calls are confidential on both ends, such that no one can hear us and there's no record aside from our memories. I'm also a mundane and supernatural psychologist; I can heal the mind of most maladies rapidly. Oh, I am quite good at discerning scents."

"Fascinating" said Bluedo as he took notes on a notepad. "So, if I wanted to reach you in the future, would the number you called from work, or would I require a separate set of contact info?"

"I cannot be reached, actually. I have no identity at the moment, I have no cell phone, and I spend most of my time in another dimension--the cursed location is like a pocket dimension. However, I will be in touch with you and the rest of the team for this mission until you connect with each other."

Bluedo then proceeds to ask Alice a ton of questions to better understand the case, including Alice's connection to the kidnapped minor.

Probably Stronger

Alice and Theo discuss Theo’s recent struggles with vampirism, resulting in Alice suggesting he see Dr. Buckworth…

"Yeah, he's the guy who figured out what happened to me, we went on a job together recently"

"I guess that means he couldn't cure it?"

"That's what he said."

"Then it sounds like it may be a curse. But I'm not the expert. Did you happen to meet a woman wearing dark red named Amy at the dinner party?"

"I... think I remember seeing her, but we didn't really talk."

"She seems quite well versed in the Occult, especially curses. In fact, Jason and I are on our way to meet with her to see if a ritual that she'll be guiding us through will reduce the effects of our curse. I don't have a history with her, but it seems that she's friends with Mark Collins and Dr. Buckworth is also acquainted with her. I recommend giving Amy a call. In fact, assuming the ritual goes well, then I can call you back and speak to the quality of her services. And if it doesn't ... I suspect you can ask Dr. Buckworth or Mark Collins for her contact information. I confess that I don't have it--I don't need it to make calls..."

"Thanks Alice. I'll do some more research on the vamps that did this to me in the meantime, see if I can turn up anything that'll help, I hope you and Jason get through this ritual thing fine."

"Thank you, Theo. So do we. In the meantime though, something new has come to my attention. Did you hear about the kidnapping of a minor in Goshen, Indiana, just a day after that werewolf killing by a girl went viral?"

"I caught a bit of it, haven't been keeping up with the situation though."

"The minor kidnapped was a young girl who does jobs just like us--she's completed at least seven of them. Based on the details of the kidnapping that I learned from her twin sister, who was there when it happened and who wasn't taken against her will, it sounds like Contractors kidnapped the other girl. Which even more so makes this feel like my problem--well... a bigger problem."

"Damn. What could they want with her, though? Any idea if this was a job they were on, or if this was more personal business?"

"The girl who is safe let me know that she knows of no one plotting against her. The level of precision and intentionality though--a woman walked straight into the police station pretending to be from her boarding school, opened the jail cell, walked away with the girl, shoved her into a car, and drove off. The servers of the police stations were wiped for the past week, the evidence was stolen, and the kidnapped girl's memory of the man who knocked her out in the vehicle when she realized something was up was wiped." Alice sighs. "Like... that's a lot of power in one go. Like, most jobs don't even go that smoothly."

"Fuck. So whoever they are, they're at least on our tier, probably stronger. I've only met a few people who could pull off something of that scale, and they're pretty specialized. Best case scenario, these people were lucky enough to have the exact abilities needed for the situation, and burned through their reserves to get it done fast, worst case, these people were either hand picked or are just so much stronger than us that doing something like this doesn't even faze them. Yeah, that's pretty concerning."

"Agreed, And now a young girl who went on these jobs to get fun powers is indefinitely in their care--whoever 'they' are. I don't like this at all. I can't look into this situation myself, but I'm checking around to see if anyone I know has the interest, capacity, and skills. I just confirmed that someone by the name of Inspector Bluedo--an actual detective who is one of us--is willing to look into this issue. Given that kidnapping trails grow cold very quickly, is this something that you'd like to look into? No pressure Theo, it seems I'm always signing you up for trouble… And I have no idea what it might lead to. My end goal is to rescue Mars. But I'm afraid of what else we might find in the process."

"I'll probably need to focus on the vampirism thing, but I'll give it a shot. I doubt there'll be anything like a scent trail left, but I'm pretty good at normal investigation. Could you arrange for me to meet up with this Bluedo guy?"

"Thank you. Yes, for now it's safe to say you should get to Goshen, Indiana, as quickly as you can. I'm still building out the team, so to speak. I'm planning on contacting a skilled hacker next; they may have wiped the servers, but they probably didn't touch the street cameras which could tell us where the car went. And Inspector Bluedo said he's good at tracking--I'm not sure if that means scent trails or something else. Best to probably ask for the details when you see him. Besides a hacker... is there anyone else you think might be well suited for this--and willing and able?"

"Not that I can get into contact with. Could you mention to them my, uh, temporary special dietary needs?"

"Of course. And you know that getting into contact with people is my specialty..." Theo can hear her smiling. "Wait, will you need a donation--is that what you're saying?"

"I've managed to avoid killing anyone so far, but I can't exactly walk into a blood bank and ask for a blood pack, y'know? … Let's see, thinking on it, my buddy Oz could probably come in handy? I've seen him hack into a hospital database once"

"Oh, Mr. Osikawa. Okay, shall I reach out to him or you?"

"Probably best you do it, since you have all the others’ contact information. I wouldn't know if there's anyone else you've picked up he doesn't get along with or something"

"Fair enough. I made no promises to the girl that we'd find her sister. I only said we'd try. So thank you for trying--it means a lot to me."

Someone Capable

The talented hacker who Alice knows as Albert receives a call even if his phone is dead, broken, or on silent. The caller is somehow saved in his phone as "Alice Decker" with the profile picture of Alice, her face no longer bruised and her edgy colored undercut maintained. It's been at least two months (in Alice's timeline) since they last spoke as the escapee headed northeast in a tow truck to her Crypt home--their conversation concluding with her gratitude as well as a deserved, heartfelt scolding and a dire warning to avoid consuming fluoride in the Detroit tap water.

The voice on the other side is… manic to say the least. Albert is wearing a full NBC [Nuclear Biological and Chemical] suit and it does not look... washed. A concern that continues as he begins with his characteristic mad rambling: "The ghouls! They bring with them the end of days. Plagues sent from the moon to cleanse the Earth; the mark of the beast wasn't ever really for- oh. Wait. This thing is always on speaker. Alice. What do you need?"

"Hey Albert. Troubling times, huh? Supernatural pandemics, alien assaults, and, like, shadow governments aside, how are you doing?"

"I am troubled as always, but the filters in my air vents and my predisposition towards avoiding contact with those contaminated by chemtrails seems to have spared me from the virus that ravages our world. Are you and the others uncontaminated?"

"Yeah, I mean, we're still cursed and all but we're not afflicted with this new ghoul plague. I have to say though, as a mental health practitioner this issue is very troubling. But, that's not something I have the capacity to look into right now." Alice sighs. "Have you heard about the latest news in Goshen, Indiana--the werewolf getting killed by that girl and then the kidnapping of a minor suspect this morning?"

"The second time I've heard of a terrible issue in Goshen. The last time it involved that old movie star Icarus Lockhart. What happened this time with the werewolf and the little girl? Sounds like terrible problems."

"I've been looking into it, and it's basically the same job I went on these kids went on--both the teenage girl who's a werewolf and also a young girl. Doubles and then, well, murders as per usual. Not everyone can get along with themselves, it seems, like I can. Except in the little girl's case, she was getting along with herself and then her clone got kidnapped. And based on the details of the kidnapping that she shared with me, it sounds like these kidnappers were professional supernaturals--like us. A woman walked right into the local police station, unlocked a jail cell, grabbed the other physical evidence, walked out with the clone, shoved her into a car, and then another one wiped the girl's most recent memories--oh and they also wiped out the police station servers. As someone who's trying to build out a Network of trusted Contractors, I find this pretty concerning."

"Wiping memories? Dangerous to know that there are beings capable of that. Though it sounds like they're punching a few weight classes higher than I am right now if they're also able to go out and deal with the police so handily to the point where none of them stopped the person in question when they exited with a supernatural prisoner. It's hard to tell with folks like us though. Our power is hidden well. Someone in our ranks could have the ability to do this and simply never tell anyone else. What is it that you want me to do if you've already confirmed the servers were wiped? Data recovery work is tedious at best but I could try my hand at it if that's your angle."

"I'm trying to figure out why they took the clone but not the original--or one but not both. If this were a standard kidnapping case, the original would hold more value than the 'spare' so to speak. If it's, like, slave labor or something equally horrific, then why not both? And, I don't know... something just feels off about the whole thing--and a minor that's one of us, you know? I have the girl's full name, the names of her parents, and the name of her school. Maybe you could do some digging online--far better than I ever could--and see if this incident is personally motivated? And if you want to attempt data recovery work, be my guest--I confess I didn't even know it was an option. I've already coordinated a team of three to arrive there in about 7 hours. One Inspector Bluedo, a supernatural detective, who I shared all the details of the case, and two others to provide backup support. I didn't tell them that I'd contact you though--thought you might prefer it that way."

"Well. I'd say you already have the answer to personal motivation. If the original is believed to be more valuable, likely as better clone stock, then it should follow that the only reason a sapient, and powerful being would do these things is because they have a vested interest in the clones on a personal level. Occam's razor would dictate that it would mean that this woman is most likely a clone herself. Given the effort and personal risk associated with separating a clone from what seems like a perfectly safe situation from what you were describing. So, this can also be assumed to not be about asset protection. My personal estimate is that this was about protection of something less tangible. Preventing this double from being contaminated by outside mental influences, likely to ensure that they retain their hatred of the original... has anything else happened while you've been looking into this?"

"And this is why I wanted to call you. I was, like, on the edges of the answer but now quite there yet--you're truly incredible, Albert. No, nothing has happened yet to my knowledge--although the clones do share a dreamscape and, based on what the original shared, the original will soon be locked out of her clone's mind. But the original is safe and I'll do my best to keep it that way." A pause. "The team is on their way but hasn't arrived yet to Goshen. I'd like to give you an update when I have one, but, coincidentally, in about seven hours I'm going to undergo an occult ritual with my husband involving death and resurrection--hopefully--to try to shake off this curse of ours. That being said, the team will be on their own until that business is taken care of--like, assuming I survive. It's ... been a busy life." Alice sounds tired.

"Hmm. Well, it's good that they haven't noticed you digging and sent a kill squad yet. I'd be wary. Now that we know this job has happened multiple times there's no telling how many clones there are, you could be sending whomever is going there into a death trap backed by the might of even 10-20 people like us. I can run operations for you still, and I'll do my research into previous incidents for you. I understand well enough that you have more than your share of babysitting to do. Though tell your friend or whoever is doing that dream delving to be careful. I'm not an expert in dreamscape studies, but I dabble in the occult enough to understand that any connection you form in the mind allows them to touch you as much as it allows you to look at them. So just do your best to be careful. " Albert says, always wary that people are out to kill him in even the most basic of circumstances. She'd hear a sigh though as he processed the bit about the occult ritual, and then he'd say, "My apologies, but death and resurrection rituals are beyond the pale of what I'd ever trust someone else with. I do hope that you are able to contact me in a few hours, but know that if whomever doing it harvests your soul in the process to feed to Elon Musk, I will ensure you are avenged."

"My power to communicate confidently protects me, and I've done my best to convey to the team that they're up against professionals of an unknown league... although the potential numbers of the group is a new consideration." A pause. "I'll pass the warning along, thanks. I'm not looking forward to what awaits me at the end of this 30-hour car ride across country. But I've witnessed firsthand that this friend of a friend can bring things back to life, and without much effort. But this will by no means be pleasant, and there are no guarantees. So thank you for your warm wishes, Albert.” Including the utterly insane Elon Musk comment. “I value your--" a brief hesitation "--friendship… Oh, on that note, are you aware that Kevin Sparkles was murdered?"

"Mhmm... Well, part of this job is trusting people I suppose, you've made strides by taking means that I would've been far too untrusting to ever approach, so I suppose I can't judge too harshly. I appreciate your trust and compassion as well. It is rare that I see someone with power that I do not have concerns about whether or not they're attempting to use me and you have managed that." He said with a sigh as he'd shake his head on his side. "Kevin Sparkles died? Well. I suppose that's the opposite side of this whole coin. He was always so eager to work with others. What got him?" Albert says, a little morbidly curious, but there is no joy in his voice. He recognizes the tragedy of another of their ranks falling in the line of duty.

Alice's tone similarly lowers. "Apparently an 'old colleague' thirsty for blood--literally. A Contractor turned I believe vampire who was going down the list of his co-workers to harvest their blood for who knows what--Batamir, head of the 'Brothers of Blood,' which apparently has a legal side and a cultist side. He kidnapped Bu Fang first, and then a group went to this guy's castle--I'm not making this shit up--to rescue him and they ended up surrendering their own blood samples in exchange for his freedom. And then he went after Kevin, but it was a 'shoot first, ask questions later' approach. Kevin died, assaulted in his own home, but somehow he took down Batamir with him? I don't know all the details, to be honest. The Knights sort of filled me in--plus someone who went on the rescue mission--but they're..." what was the word? "...not thorough."

"Wait. They fucking what? You know they're all dead right? At literally any moment." Albert sighed as he heard that these, less-than-intelligent individuals, gave up blood samples to a literal fucking vampire. "Even if they got away with Bu of course he let them go because he's going to use their blood to slave them to him and force them to follow his commands until the blood sample can be returned." The less than helpful side of Albert showing here as he recalled some information on vampirism that wasn't strictly accurate before he'd go along with "Eugh, it's just a good thing that he died otherwise they'd already be corpses, but if any of his spawn ever grow to his level of power their days are over. Tennessee is where that Michael Jackson vampire lived right? Whole place is a shit show as far as I can tell you before I even start. Governor's wife just up and vanished, they found her decapitated body in the river and then a week later she shows up having gained a cup size in the same month this all happens? I don't care what the media says, man clearly benefited from helping Batamir's cronies flee the state like the catholic church and the Nazi's. Just with creepy clones instead of gold as the pay off."

Alice knows little about vampires, but there's one thing she can fully agree on. "I'm grateful to Kevin that he somehow took this guy out--makes the world a bit less of a headache for us collectively, I think. He was a good albeit insane man." A sigh. "And, like, the Knights showed up at Batamir's headquarters a week later, and guess what they gallantly marched in on?"

"A place already cleaned out? I already figured once the head of the serpent had been cut off, they ditched." Albert said with a scowl behind his NBC mask before he'd continue with "A pity Kevin had to die to cover up for, with all due respect, the blatant incompetence of this team. With all due respect I'd like to know who I have to watch in the future. Who was on it?"

"Are you asking who the Knights are?" Alice suddenly realizes that she knows all the info--and the gossip.

"In this case, yes. Kevin was a competent man with a charisma that let him bring people together. It seems to me they were the ones responsible for his death ethically, as much as Batamir is the actual villain here. "Though I don't seek vengeance, just... well. I need to know when I need to babysit someone."

"Fair enough. Our friend Bu Fang is one, as is Mark Collins--both well-known names, I think. Another is Akira. I don't know his last name, but I will be calling him soon to screen him for the Network--a comparatively quieter and calmer one--seems to be good friends with Mark. I saw someone else wearing a Friendship Bracelet at the wake, a buff white woman, but I don't know who she is. She's with an organization of werecreatures, I heard." A pause. "And maybe me? Kevin gave me a bracelet at Bu Fang's dinner party and called me a 'knight in training.' To be honest, I feel like I have one foot in their club and one foot out--and I'm going to keep it that way. Like, when they decided to 'storm the castle,' I basically wished them well and went on my way--for numerous reasons.” A pause. “Kevin was insane, but he wasn't stupid."

Alice will hear some keys clicking on Albert's side for a few moments before he'd say, "Well thank you. I'm not exactly in the spirit of joining this club either. Kevin had once offered me a bracelet but I'd refused on the basis of not wanting to associate quite so closely with them before knowing all the members. I see now I made a call that I would best describe as "wise."" He says with a sigh before following it up with: "Though rescuing Bu Fang wasn't a bad idea, they could've at least done drone recon over the site first. Confidence in supernatural abilities to carry them through gunfire is one thing but doing so could've helped them identify electrical power sources to disable any static defenses, outside communication lines should've been cut to prevent a call for help to distant forces with an organization this large, radio jamming operations should've been done as an intro. Both to inhibit communications and prevent detonator activation. Amateurs. One and all."

"Good lord, Albert. May you always be my friend--and not my enemy." That was the second time in one month Alice said that, and she meant it deeply both times. "I suppose I know when I'm missing something, unlike some others. But you seem to know what specifically is missing."

"Knowing it is one thing, employing it is another. If you're worried about the BoB coming after you and yours, I'd personally recommend getting an IMSI catcher for your car. It's a device that mimics a cellphone tower letting you scrub text messages and calls in your area. An excellent tool if you're concerned about say, a bunch of angsty Team Batamir teens deciding they want to run round two on the Knights. Cops will get antsy about it if they know what they're looking at while searching your car, but it's not illegal. Though you will need someone capable of analyzing the data you get from it. Doesn't just print it out in a sheet unfortunately."

"I suspect I entered the group so late that they have no idea I'm a part of it, aside from attending the funeral maybe... Nevertheless, that sounds like a good idea for other reasons... Jason and I still don't know if our identities--his original and the one you set up for me--are usable after the Texas incident. It's been two months, and no one's snooped around or broken into our apartment--although we haven't been actively using it. And no one's questioned Mel about anything. My bank accounts haven't been locked, I can't find our names and faces on any FBI or Texas law enforcement suspect lists. I was going to ask you if you had any advice on this--or maybe we should just start fresh again--but ... um, probably best to wait, like, until after this ritual...

"Yes, as you have no idea what'll happen with this ritual to be realistic with you. You can say you've seen them do it without any effort, but that's a lot of trust to be putting into something you've only witnessed personally once or twice. As for your identities. I've not gotten any pings, though I would really recommend Jason not just reusing the same name if he is going to try and rebuild an identity. Though now's not a good time. Some asshole took down most of the forgery experts on the west coast not too long ago. They're still rebuilding their networks after that major sting."

"He'll probably stick with his original for a while, either way, if it's clean. One idea he had was seeing if you could easily put together some digital evidence that, when stuff went down in Texas, he was in Europe on a job related to his actually legitimate personal security business." Another sigh. "But, again, we don't want to ask you to do anything unnecessarily..." Another pause, and then, speaking more quietly: "Someday I hope to give you something, or do something meaningful for you too. You more than deserve it."

"Thank you, but knowing that I will be considered when it comes time, and that my record of assistance will be remembered is enough. My ambitions are being pursued at a reasonable pace. The world is growing wise to the hidden truths as they bear fruit. Though, what they do with that knowledge isn't always to my liking." Albert would say with a chuckle before continuing with "As for forging video. That should be easy enough. I have access to systems that'd make the FBI's servers look like trash in comparison so I can at least do a doctored video. Something to say ‘No, I was definitely here.’"

There's a smile on her voice now. "You're too cautious and intellectual to be a Knight, but I'm confident Kevin offered you the position because he saw your selfless heart… And, I suppose we'd better live then! How about I check in with you in six hours--is that enough time to do your digital digging into the kidnapping case?"

"I'll do my best to crack the case open. At the very least the security systems of the local PD should bear no threat to my systems. Though, if possible, I would like to know any names you have from there. Need something to feed the algorithm I use to crack the passwords."

"Certainly. I'm confident you can call Inspector Bluedo, as he's a professional detective and has an office in Los Angeles. I don't have his phone number on hand, but I'll get it from him right after we hang up. And concerning other details: Minerva McAllister, seven years old, is the original. 'Mars' is the name of her double. Minerva attends Faraday School, which I couldn't find anything on online. Her parents' names are Henry and Samantha McAllister. The woman who kidnapped Mars claimed to be 'Ms. Wumbra.' I considered attempting to call the woman, if that's a real alias, but I'm not sure what I'd say if she picked up. And I don't want to give away that someone is possibly coming after them--if they don't already suspect it. Please do protect the identity of the girl as best you can. She put a lot of trust in me today by sharing everything she knows--and much more about herself--for the sake of trying to find her double. Bluedo knows as much as I told you, and a bit more, due to his specialized role on this job... This is on a need-to-know basis, basically."

"Alright, thank you. I'll put that information to use in building the program that'll scrub for any mentions of those, clones, or strange lapses in memory. As for Minerva. You needn't be concerned. I have no interest in exposing children to the world. Worry not. I'm not the Catholic Church." He says with a dry chuckle. Dark humor was his refuge.

Alice silently shakes her head at the dark joke.

Albert continues. "Please do update me with this… Inspector Bluedo's information when you can. Though I have to ask. Is that a pseudonym or this guy's real name? Because it's within spitting distance of Inspector Cousteau." He'd say, pretty bemused on the other side of this. After all, the name was hardly believable.

"Whether his name is real or not is a mystery I'm too busy to solve," Alice replies dryly. "We'll be in touch... and thanks again." The call ends.

Chances

While seated in the lobby, under the weight of the suspense of being called in to speak with the principal any second, Minerva's phone rings. The caller is "Alice" with the familiar dog paw print profile picture.

Minerva sits in the lobby, kicking her legs under the seat a little as she waits. After a little bit, she starts to entertain herself practicing her illusions. Just forming things in her hands, and then breaking them, or letting them exist until they faded. Trying to focus on making them last longer.

She's focused to the point she nearly jumps! when her phone rings, and she lets out a breath after. She picks up her phone, and wiggles her nose a bit as she sees the caller. She answers. "Hello?"

"Hello Minerva. How are you?"

"I'm.... here? As well as could be expected, I guess. I'm safe. Trying to keep my mind off of the issue and give it a minute to relax. I think I'm getting more rest when awake than when asleep. Going to try and find out where she is again in a little bit. And then I can go get her." She says it all in one burst, barely taking a moment to breathe.

"That's understandable. Please be careful. If they manage to turn Mars against you through regular persuasion or supernatural means, like memory manipulation, it may be dangerous for you to confront her in your dreamscape... Otherwise, are there no new developments on your end?"

She nods a little bit. "I will. And... ...could..." She trails off. "I will. I'm going into hers, more than her coming into mine. If she does want to hurt me, it'll be harder for her, like that." She lets out a breath. "No. Not yet. I'm just... waiting. Principal Wolstenholme is busy."

"'Could' what, Minerva?" The experienced psychologist is attentive yet gentle. 

"...I was going to say 'could they really do that, change your memories...'" Her voice drops a bit. "But.. I don't know. I see how they could do it. I think I could do it, if I really needed to. ...but that means others could do it too."

"Yes." A sigh. "Anything is possible. And that is, sadly, probable..." Alice shakes her head, as though to push away the sheer insanity of it all.

Minerva wiggles her nose some, just staring at the phone in her lap. "...I don't know if it's probable. Um... I think my mind is pretty hard to attack. And in the dreamscape, Mars had the same defenses. If someone wants to edit her deeper memories, I think it would be really hard." Or maybe that was just wishful thinking by her, hoping that it couldn't happen to her. She nods. "Okay..." 

"I'm glad you're back at Faraday. Just let me know when you need to go, okay? In the meantime, I have some updates. I called around over the past few hours and managed to coordinate a team of four: three friends and one friend of a friend. It includes a talented hacker, a supernatural detective, and two others providing support. They were interested in the case for several reasons, as I am, and so they're going to look into it as best they can despite the clear risks. I only shared your personal information with the hacker and the detective, as they need to know to do their work."

She listens to the next comment, and nods. "Okay. Where are we gathering? Back in Goshen?"

Alice expected this. "They are gathering at a designated spot in Goshen. And, keeping with my promise to try to help you and Mars, I am not inviting you to join them."

The young girl nods. "Good, where- wait, what?" She fluffs up a little. "I can help! I can take care of myself! I'm useful! She's my double, you don't get to tell me I can't help!"

A pause. Then Alice replies in a quieter, lower tone. "I regard you as my colleague, despite your age. And colleagues can disagree. You can up and leave wherever you're waiting right now and try to find this team in Goshen--and maybe even tell them I sent you, or command them to let you help. That's not what I want, but I fully respect that you could do that--although if you did, I confess I would respect you less and regret being this transparent with you."

Minerva is a little worked up, but she just listened to start. After Alice finishes, there's a long pause as Minerva takes a second to both calm herself and order her thoughts. "If I'm your colleague, why don't I get to help? Explain that to me." Her voice was level--something she didn't feel inside of herself. Yes, I can leave if I want. No one can stop me. And I probably could find that team in Goshen. And I could make them let me help. But... Something inside of her balked at having someone she did respect and trust respect her less. That wasn't fair. 

"First, you are deeply emotionally invested in this issue--and rightfully so--and those emotions can hinder good judgment. It can happen to any of us. Two months ago I went on a job with my best friend and almost lost him, and in the process I almost lost myself, mid-job, when I needed to think clearly more than ever." Alice's voice wavers. "I-I will never go on a job with him again."

Alice regains professional composure and continues. "Second, this job is extremely dangerous. I'm hoping our group has the element of surprise--they're not expected, no one is waiting for them. But there's no guarantee. And what could be waiting for them there or at the end of the trail as they pursue Mars is an unknown number of highly skilled supernaturals like ourselves--possibly all clones. If the kidnappers wanted you alive, they would have taken you. So it's logical to conclude that they don't care about you, which includes being open to killing you." 

"I--" She starts, almost interrupting, before going quiet again. She sucks in a breath. "I'm not-" She can hear the lie in her own words before she even finishes speaking, and falls silent. "Okay. Maybe I am deeply emotionally invested. Isn't that a good thing? It means you fight harder..." She looks down, though, past the phone, as she thinks of the truth in Alice's words. She really would never go on a job with him again. "...But how will you feel if you don't go on a job with him and he dies out there?" She wiggles her nose a little at the end after. "...But they're out there because of me. And I can take care of myself..." She knew Alice was telling the truth about all of that, and... it was scary. But how could she just sit here? This was her fault.

"Maybe you'd fight harder, or maybe you'd be in an emotional daze--I can't say for you or even for myself,” Alice replies. “And, if he dies out there... it would be because he chose to accept the risks on his own--not because of anything I did or didn't do something beside him ... If he dies out there, I wouldn't be the one who killed him." Never again. "They're heading to Goshen because they've accepted the risks. I know you're willing to accept the risks too, but I'm asking you to stay where you are... because I think you have a higher odds of dying--higher than each of them." 

Minerva's about to say I can accept the risks too before Alice gets right to that. She curls her tail into her lap, starting to just pet it absentmindedly. It was soft. "...Why? I can fight just as hard as any of them."

"Because I don't yet believe that you can run just as hard as any of them. At 7-10 years old, your prefrontal cortex--the part of your brain that helps you differentiate among conflicting thoughts, determine good and bad, better and best, future the consequences of current activities, and predict the outcomes--is not yet fully developed. That part of executive control develops primarily during puberty and into early adulthood.

But let's say you already have the mind of a twenty-four year old. There is still a high likelihood that, due to your physical age, you're experiencing distinct social pressures. You probably feel like you have to prove yourself to others--that is to say, you're probably in the habit of showing off or doing things independently to make a point to onlookers--and maybe even yourself. Those behaviors can also lead to you making poor choices that harm you and possibly the team. 

Also, you're probably used to defying authority. You're likely afraid of blackmail because your school and your parents either don't know that you go on these jobs or they don't fully understand them--nor the 'pay'. And I will not be the one to tell them. However, if my team collectively decides that it's too dangerous to proceed despite having a lead to follow, I don't trust that you would be willing to stop with them. And if you keep going, they might feel pressured to keep going too--against their better judgment--so that you're not going at it alone.

Do you know where your limits are, Minerva? And if you do, do you accept them? Do you know when to stop and give up to live another day, even if it means lower odds of rescuing Mars? Would you participate in the team that I formed as a colleague and collaborator?

These are the kinds of things that I have to take into consideration to decrease the chances that my friends, including you, end up dead." None of Alice's words are said judgmentally, although they are undoubtedly a form of judgements--neutrally expressed opinions with clear undertones of patience and concern. 

Minerva momentarily pauses, thrown for a bit of a loop. Run? Why would one-

The young foxgirl just stares at the phone after as she listens, scowling just a little. "That's not fair--" She starts, but Alice just keeps going. She huffs a bit, her fluffy ears pushing back against her head a little as she listens. She could make good decisions! She could predict outcomes!

She lets out another soft huff. ...Did she? ...Maybe. Maybe, maybe that was a tiny bit true. But she could do things independently! And... they wouldn't just result in poor choices! She opens her muzzle to defend herself and Alice just keeps going. She glowers at the phone a little.

"The school knows." She mumbles, not really interjecting. Her parents didn't understand, though. But... She looks down. Would she be willing to stop? Maybe not. "Maybe." She mumbles again. "We could handle it..."

Minerva looks at her paw, and a small sphere of light appears in it again. She starts to roll it a little. Did she know her limits? Did she think she had any? "...I..." No. She probably wouldn't give up if it meant lower odds. But...

She's just silent for a long time after Alice finishes speaking, before eventually saying "So what would you have me do?" She... hadn't committed to anything yet. And if Alice was just scared for her friends, she could still do this herself. But... did she have a point?

"I'd like you to try to stay in contact with Mars through your shared dreamscape, despite the dangers involved in going there, to monitor how she's doing and learn anything you can--but not share about me and my team. As I said, I think they're going to try to turn her against you. That may include locking you out of her memories--if not her whole tower. If Mars doesn't want to come home, then our odds of success are practically zero given your specific supernatural skillset. I'll also try to call her at least once before my ritual starts and the team arrives in Goshen. Even if she's conscious, I doubt they'd let her have her phone this soon..."

Minerva wiggles her nose. "I don't think it's that dangerous..." She nods a bit after. "Fine. I won't mention anything to do with your team. And..." She wiggles her nose. "I don't know. I think she'll be hard to turn." She hoped. "But I'll make sure she doesn't." She looks at her paw for a moment. Did she have a useful one? Maybe. "Okay." She closes her eyes. Was this a good idea? Just... letting someone else do it? But everything Alice had said was true. Or at least, Alice believed it. And... she found it hard to argue with. It didn't hurt to look in the dreamscape first, did it? "I want a number to call you at."

Alice sighs. "Okay... but I want you to understand that I'll be unavailable in four hours--around the time when the team arrives to Goshen--and there's also a possibility that I'll be dead. So I want your phone number as well to pass on to the detective so that my absence doesn't sever the communication lines." Somehow Alice says every part of that with the same neutral and composed tone.

Minerva nods slightly. "Very well, and--wait, what?" There's a pause. "...Do you need help? I can be on a flight--" Could she really help one as powerful as this woman? But... she had to offer something. She swallows. "I can't help, can I?" She says in a somewhat defeated tone. "It's..." She scratches behind an ear. "I need to be stronger."

"It's more like ... the ritual I'm about to complete requires my death, but I have a friend who can perform resurrections. But, no one's perfect--nothing's guaranteed. I only told you because I don't want you to think that me going silent suddenly indefinitely is because I've abandoned you and Mars. For as long as I'm alive, and you don't betray me or my friends, we will continue to be friends." Alice pauses and then begins to talk in a way Minerva hasn't heard before. "Just get strong enough to be happy, not strong enough to solve everyone else's problems. Stay true to yourself. Try to find your own way before getting mixed up in ensuring other people get to find theirs. I know that's hard--I'm learning how to do it too, how to help people within my strengths and limits along the way to my own happiness--without carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. "

She blinks a few times, nodding just a little. "... Ah. I..." She doesn't really know what to say to 'I have a friend that can perform resurrections'. "I wish you luck. I... hope you don't die. You're a good person." Truth. She nods some. "That's fair. I want to be your friend." She just pulls her knees up into her chest, wrapping her arms around it after, her phone in her lap trapped in the cloth.

"I..." She nods just a little.  That's why she'd started this, right?  Strong enough to be happy.  But...  She still didn't know what she wanted.  Herself?  Everyone?  Or did she to play first fiddle? She'd have to decide that.  But.. she wasn't ready yet.  "I don't know.  I don't know how to do that yet."

"And that's okay," Alice affirms. "I'm still figuring it out too. I guess where I'm starting at is, like, asking myself what I want and what I feel right now... and... what I'm truly responsible for. Those are big questions--my answers might change over time... but... that's how I'm going about it."

Minerva nods softly, wiggling her nose a bit.  She goes silent for a long little bit.  "...Okay."  She lets out a breath.  "I don't know that either.  Or that." She closes her eyes.  "I thought I knew yesterday....

"No rush. One step at a time. Here's my friend's burn phone that I'm currently using--are you ready to type it down?" Alice reads off a phone number that has a 313 area code.

"Okay..." Minerva writes it down in her phone.  "Okay. I have it.  I'll... I guess I'll call it if I find out something."

"Please do. And yours?"

Minerva tells the number for her cellphone. She doesn't have a burner phone. Maybe that would be a good thing to get.

"Thank you. Stay safe, and we'll be in touch over the next four hours--and at some point after that too, assuming everything goes well."

Minerva nods softly. "Okay. Please... please just keep me up to date." She lets out a breath, pulling her knees tighter into her chest, curling her tail around herself. "I hope so..."

"Of course... I'm glad we met." And with that, the call ends.

Terry’s small family practice lays empty on a lazy Saturday evening. It's a warm evening in this Idaho suburb, where glancing in any given direction treats you to an idyllic, pastoral scene.

Terry unlocks the rear door and brings a small group into the waiting room.

“You want some coffee? Tea? We’ve got camomile.”

"Got anything stronger Doc? By the way, name’s Jason. Finally nice to officially meet you." He holds his hand out to Terry.

Terry shakes his hand. "The pleasure's mine, Jason. I'm glad to see you're feeling better. We have some Champagne in the fridge." Terry brings back a cheap bottle of champagne and some plastic flutes.

Jason, who normally would be considered a handsome man, looks like he hasn't slept in a week. He has dark circles under his eyes and has a gaunt look to his facial structure. He takes the flute from Dr. Buckworth and downs it in a single swig. "So Doc, who's killing me?"

“I will. I can explain the procedure if you like.”

"One second." Jason grabs Alice into a hug, whispering something into her ear. After a few seconds he lets go. "Nah, I trust you Doc. Let's just get it over with."

Alice blushes but does not resist, clearly not at all used to this gesture from her 'husband.' Here, her mask is off. She is similarly sickly looking, as though she hasn't eaten or slept in days and also quite pale. Otherwise she is a short, average looking, thin half-Asian/half-Caucasian woman with an edgy undercut in her late twenties or early thirties. She wears designer jeans, a nice white blouse, an unbuttoned peacoat, the Friendship Bracelet, and carries the same small designer backpack. She whispers nothing back and looks away from him, clearly fighting being upset as she nervously messes with the gloved finger where her wedding ring is.

Lilith comes in wearing black jeans, a Red Hot Chili Peppers band t-shirt depicting the album art for Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and a backpack. She is wearing a blue medical mask. Under her arm is a bundle of something made of padded plastic, and in her other hand two orange, 5 gallon buckets.

"Good evening," she says simply, appraising Jason and Allie with a glance. 

"T-thanks for coming, Amy."

"You may call me Lilith," she says as her gaze moves to Terry, "Worlds collide, huh? Not much need for anonymity anymore given how far we're going tonight."

"Nice to actually meet you in my person form." Jason says to Amy as he walks over to the exam table. "I don't want to kill the 'bands back together' mood, but I'd like to get this over with."

"Patience is a virtue, my once-amphibious friend. Unless, of course, you'd rather remain ignorant to what the plan is," Lilith says, putting the bucket and bundle down on the other side of the room. "I'd prefer my patients to be fully informed on what they're getting themselves into if I can help it."

"You're going to kill me, then hopefully bring me back? Isn't that the gist?"

Lilith looks at Allie, "That's the gist. She is going to eat your heart."

"... What?" Somehow she got paler.

"I promised you that it wouldn't be pleasant." 

"Wait, what!?" He looks at Alice. "You forgot that little nugget!" He turns back to Lilith. "I kinda need that. You know she barely eats solid food, right?"

"Terry will bring you back to life. He believes his abilities will regenerate your heart as well," she looks wholly unfazed by this revelation. A coping mechanism? "We'll make sure you're fully alive with your heart back, just in case I need to put it back. Should be easy for me to perform on you, especially with Terry's help.” A pause. “Oh, it will be a paste. Not much chewing involved."

Alice just sits down, stunned. She clearly had no idea. 

As if with a non-verbal punctuation mark, Lilith slips her backpack off her back and pulls a mortar and pestle from it, followed by a black draw-string bag.

"Oh, well since you put it like that..." sarcasm dripping from every word. Jason goes over to his 'wife' and takes her hand. "What do you want to do? This is fucked up, even for us."

"Do keep in mind, we might not even need to do this. Who knows, perhaps just killing you will break the curse. But if not, I know this will work."

“We could administer it with a feeding tube.” Terry adds. “I know the whole thing sounds yucky, but that’s medicine. It isn’t always pleasant.”

Alice accepts Jason's comforting gesture, but just shakes her head at the mention of a feeding tube, continuing to hide her face by looking down and slightly hiding with a hand. 

Lilith nods at Terry, "He's right, you know. I'm also a medical doctor in addition to my occult studies."

“To be honest, I just recently learned of it myself. I understand if you don’t want to continue.”

"It's up to you. I'm not really a fan of having my heart ripped out and mashed into mush, but you have the worst of it. It's your decision." Jason gives Alice a kiss on the forehead and goes back to the table.

The sudden kiss on the forehead seems to wake Alice up with a jolt. Standing and protesting with a reddening face: "You can't just--I do not have the worst of it, 'Mr. Decker'!" Her arms cross and her brow furrows as she takes a deep breath to resettle herself. Looking away from everyone now, she adds, "I swear, if you survive this and tease me about eating your heart out--you're such a--" A long pause. Finally glancing at Terry and Lillith, Alice shifts back into exhaustion and nervousness as she sits back down. "L-let's just get this over with." And then a whisper with her eyes closed as she messes with her hidden wedding ring. "I love you too." That brought it up to two goodbyes. Maybe in time this would get easier, through desensitization. Probably not... 

"Don't worry, Alice. We will do everything in our considerable power to ensure this operation is painless and a complete success." He guides them into an office where a makeshift surgery theater has been set up. "Jason, would you like to give Alice the option to observe the procedure?" 

"Fine by me, it's up to her."

"... Sure." Alice takes a spot along the wall beside a stiff plastic chair. Even if it scarred her... she wanted to be near Jason to the very end.

"The procedure and the administration of the ritual can be completed in two different steps. Jason can observe the ritual on Alice after you have been brought back."

Lilith thinks for a moment, "Oh, and Alice. When the ritual is successful, you will not need to worry about IBS anymore. Solid foods will no longer be a problem for you."

Alice tilts her head slightly to one side (like a confused dog). And then actually smiles slightly. "Like I said before, Lillith, the least of my problems."

She smiles back at Alice, "Then let's begin. See how many of those problems get fixed this evening."

“I’ll start with a brief checkup.” Terry proceeds to take Jason’s blood pressure and listen to his heartbeat with a stethoscope.

"Hey, if this doesn't work, can we tell people I was, like, mauled by a monster or something?" Jason looks over at Alice and winks.

Alice sharply inhales and then looks back at Jason, shaking her head slightly with disapproval.

"Alright, I'm going to administer the anesthetic now. You'll be awake before you know it. Anything you'd like to say before you go under?"

"I shouldn't need any last words, right Doc? Let's get this over with."

Terry and Lilith work together like only a pair of trained medical professionals can. Terry injects a fluid into the catheter on Jason's arm and puts a mask over his nose and mouth.  "Alright Jason. Count down from 100." After three seconds, Jason slowly slips into unconsciousness.

"Okay Lilith, open the rib cage and prepare to remove the heart. I'll get ready to drain the blood." He turns to Alice. "The goal is to bring him back as quickly as possible."

Terry is a highly trained professional and sometimes, some medical surgeries go wrong. This was one of those times, but thanks to Terry's experience, he managed to curve the worst of it and make the way for Lilith to properly drain Jason's blood in the proper time frame needed to remove the heart and then be able to revive Jason within the parameters of Lazarus.

It was a bumpy ride at first, but it was salvaged in the end and in your clutches are Jason's fully drained blood, his heart, and his corpse.

Terry continues speaking to Alice as he prepares another needle attached to a long hose. “You see, we’ve got him injected with a blood thinner to prevent clotting.” He moves to insert the needle, his hands are shaking. “So that when we collect it all, we can—“ He pauses and dabs his forehead with a handkerchief. “Lilith can you help me with this?”

Meanwhile Lilith is doing the dirty deed of opening the chest cavity. It is a brutally violent procedure to crack the ribcage and pry it  wide enough to access Jason's still-beating heart. At this point, she helps Terry perform the most basic task of inserting the needle to drain Jason of his blood. Soon the flow begins, gathering in a large biological material container on the floor. Through the cloudy plastic, the group can watch the line of blood rise steadily. Pint after pint empty into the vessel. Is that really how much blood is in a person? The heart, plainly visible through the opening in the chest cavity, skips a beat, then begins to convulse. The EKG on the wall emits a warning tone.

Jason is dead. Terry nods to Lilith, and she gets to work removing the heart. Terry removes the IV once the last drop of blood has been drained.

Alice watches until she realizes that Terry is nervous, by his shaking hands, his pounding heart, and his intense smell of sweat which she can discern through the overwhelming smells of raw flesh and blood. Then she shuts her eyes and resists the urge to rush out of the room. 

Fresh death has a certain smell. And Alice now knows what the smells of Jason's death--and hearing his pulse stopping--is like. 

Lilith lifts the hastily-cut heart into a tray. They remove the calipers holding the chest open, and Terry sews the incision shut. As he does, a teal light emanates from Jason's skin.

Lilith works at Terry's pace, helping him along with the more grisly parts of the operation. She does not seem to take pleasure in the act, but there is nary a wince from her as she cracks the ribcage open, her eyes filled with cold focus. She looks up just in time to see Terry's hand beginning to shake and gingerly takes the needle from him. "Breathe, Doctor," she says in her icy alto. 

Once the needle is in Jason's heart, beginning to pump the blood out of his body, she takes a step back to the first of her two buckets. Flipping the hair over her shoulder, she lifts up the long sleeves of her shirt and reveals the thick bandages underneath. She pulls the material off entirely, letting the blood-soaked bandages fall into the bucket. Immediately, the swirling runic wounds on her wrists begin to weep, dripping down into her palms. The flow does not slow... in fact, it gets faster. Her fingertips methodically trace the cuts on both arms as the blood seeps out of her skin... before she gestures sharply down into the bucket. The wounds on her arms bulge sickeningly as an immense amount of blood is loosed from her body, filling the five gallon bucket over half way. She pulls her hands from the bucket, deep crimson painting her pale white skin... and with a flick of her wrists, the fluid on her skin beads and rolls off, leaving her clean.

Lilith sighs, looking over her shoulder at Alice. "Last chance to look away, Mrs. Decker," she says as she approaches Jason again, body nearly-entirely drained of its blood. She lifts her right hand up as her blood-red fingernails begin to sharpen into extremely thin surgical blades. Once the last drop has dripped into the receptacle and Jason has officially flatlined, she works with practiced swiftness. She disconnects the heart from the rest of the body and pulls it free, clearing the way for Terry to work his magic. 

While Terry sews up the cadaver, Lilith kneels down in front of the bucket containing all of Jason's essence. Holding the heart in her right hand, she slips her fingers on her left hand into the receptacle as her muscles begin to tense. In a matter of seconds, the blood in the bucket races up her fingers and into her eldritch wounds, leaving the container almost entirely clean... save for a small measure of pink, unmetabolized anticoagulant resting at the bottom. At the same time, Jason's heart melts into a deep, deep red liquid that is then pulled into her right arm. "There," she says, looking up at Terry just as he finishes sewing Jason up and his wounds begin to glow, "That will keep it warm... Now let's see how well we did..." 

Terry works a miracle. The culmination of multiple hours of strife that comes together all at once in a burst that lasts no longer than a handful of minutes.

Terry closes the chest cavity, and loose skin meets just as Jason's heart can be seen growing itself back between the seams. Sterile sutures are worked to stitch the chest back together, Terry's fingertips glowing a faint teal light that extends down into Jason's chest. The Sergeant, just as well, slowly regains the color in his skin. Hollow bones clung to by dry skin is replaced with its natural peachy color and by the time Terry's procedure is complete, the EKG machine beeps twice to signify a found pulse and begins to read the beating of Jason's rebuilt heart. He's still a little bit pale, but buy and large, he has returned from the dead.

Terry administers a blood transfusion to help refill his fluids, followed by the antidote to the anesthetic.

Alice moves to the operation table while taking off her gloves and gently holds Jason's pale hand as Terry administers the blood transfusion. "J-jason?" By Terry's heart rate and Jason's appearance, she knows she has nothing to be nervous about. But knowledge often fails to override the raging emotions of the mind and heart.

Jason blinks a few times as he regains consciousness. "Fuck, it didn't work." He squeezes Alice's hand slightly. "I didn't think I'd go to Heaven, but I see an angel before me." He lets out a strained laugh as he takes Alice's hand and kisses it. He tries to get up from the table as a wave of dizziness hits him. "I think I'll sit here a minute longer." He gives Alice a wink. 

Lilith mocks vomiting, the wounds on her uncovered arms continuing to seep with blood. “Alright, alright Casanova. Do you still feel the degenerative pain of the Crypt curse?”

Alice pulls her hand away just in time to avoid the kiss, with a scoff. "He's back to normal, and yes, he's still cursed," she answers dryly. Having done a total of six jobs together, Alice knows exactly what Jason looks uncursed and cursed. She puts her gloves back on as she turns away from her revived 'husband,' her pale face red once more. 

Since when was Jason so compliment-y and kissy? Alice was re-getting used to a baseline of mild, silly harassment, but... Maybe this performance was his way of handling stress or maybe he didn't believe her when she told him to not get used to that one kiss. Either way, they'd be having a discussion about boundaries on the car ride home. Assuming she survived the night. 

"I actually feel pretty good considering, but something still seems off." He tries to get up again, this time with more success.

Alice moves to be beside Lilith. "We're on to the next step then," she says quietly, arms crossed and looking clearly uncomfortable. 

"We are," Lilith says, looking Alice up and down. "Now that we know that death is not the answer to our troubles, we work on alleviating the symptoms instead." She backs away from the table with Jason and kneels down to the bundle of plastic and support rods that she brought with her. After a minute of unfolding, it has become a small, upright bathtub, large enough to fit an adult. "We have two options, Alice. You can choose to drink Jason's entire body worth of blood, over seven liters, about a gallon and a half, or you can bathe in it. Ruin your clothes or not, that's up to you. The second part of the ritual, involving the heart, you must eat from the mixture that I produce. Take the time you need to decide, I am ready when you are."

"The fucking details." Alice says quietly under her breath before sighing. To be honest, it was better that she didn't know until the last moment. Turning to Terry, she asks, "Do you have an extra patient gown?" And then, looking at both men, "And, uh, I'd like some privacy… And, uh... can you, like, pick up a bottle of vodka for me?"

“Sure, I know a corner store. I’ll be back in 3 minutes,” Terry replies.

"Just a small bottle, Doc. She's a lightweight." Jason sighs and whispers to himself. "This is going to be bad..."

"A large bottle, actually," Alice clarifies quietly as she walks out of the surgical theater with Terry, heading to the bathroom she noted on the way in with a patient gown. 

About ten minutes later, Alice twists open a 750 ml bottle of vodka. Both men have been pushed out of the room, the door shutting quietly behind them via telekinesis. She leans against a counter with a sink, looks at Lilith and the empty tub, and then takes a swig of Blue Ice straight from the bottle--cringing and coughing as it burns her throat. At least it will warm her. The gown provides no warmth in this cold room. Although... the blood will be warm...

"At the moment, I'm 'Alice' or 'Allie,' but I'm not sure how long that'll last," she says before bracing herself and taking another generous swig. As soon as she finishes coughing, she continues. "I can't seem to hold onto names."

"So much in common we have," Lilith says, running her fingers over the blood dripping from her arms and gesturing into the first bucket that she filled, keeping her skin relatively clean as the fluid beads and flows down. When done, she keeps her arms as still as possible at her sides... movement seems to speed the gradual hemorrhaging. "Call me superstitious, but I believe that names have power. Power that is gained by our use of them. I had a name before that was a version of me. And a name even longer before that, before all of this," she says, gesturing at herself, causing the wounds closest to her wrists to tear up with crimson. 

"When we met, I was Amy, but that was a lie. Just like any other name I give someone as a cover on our jobs. But Lilith... Lilith is who I am now. You, on the other hand, don't seem so sure. Are you really Alice? Can that name ever give you power?" 

"If Jason and I find Violet's true family and hand her over, I won't need to be Alice Decker anymore." Alice takes another gulp. It's getting a bit easier now, or at least less shocking of a taste and feel. She's such a lightweight that her face is already feeling a little bit warm. "I gave my original identity away to someone who needed it more than me. 'Alice'... " She contemplates before drinking more. "For me, like, the name was for a job--just one he and I took on ourselves. No client, no pay--just trying to do the right thing for her. So, uh, honestly?... I have no fuckin idea." 

Lilith can't help but giggle, a light chirping into her soft palate. "That's an acceptable answer too. Sounds like you're quickly running out of parts of yourself to give, though. I hope that you find the name 'Alice' gives you what 'Lilith' gave me, even if you don't need to be 'Alice Decker' any longer," she pauses, thinking to herself as she moves towards her ritual mortar, "And who knows, one day still I might outgrow my name. Lilith is a version of myself who might not be around forever, but not because I won't need her, rather because it no longer describes me."

"Makes sense. Coming from the psychology-side, names influence how others perceive us--including our personality and worth--and how others perceive us inevitably shapes how we see ourselves." Another swig. "Humans are such social creatures... we're so lost when we're on our own--whether it's the truth or, like, our beliefs that that's the truth..." And another. Then she sets the now half-empty bottle down and walks over to Lilith, eying the mortar. "But now that I know what you smell like, you can change your name as many times as you want--I can still call you, like, so long as you have a device on you." 

Lilith looks at Alice with an eyebrow raised. For a moment, the cool exterior of her personality falters as she processes what was just said. “Alright,” she says after a short cough, the slightest hint of flush on her face, “Time to get you in the tub before you’re too sloshed. You’re gonna soak in the blood for a few minutes while I prepare the consumable portion. Don’t drink so much liquor that you can’t keep this down. The effects should be pretty immediate, so you’ll stop feeling ill after you’ve swallowed everything.” 

Alice looks at the portable tub with a frown, arms crossed once more. "I was hoping to be more sloshed, actually--it's, like, a really fine line..." She walks into the tub and slowly sits down in it, legs crossed, as she continues, "This is, uh, the second time I've turned to alcohol to, like, make an incredibly shitty thing a little more manageable..." Suddenly she giggles and then looks up at Lilith with a mischievous grin. "Better not tell my therapist."

"Oh trust me, I know,” she says looking you over once you sit down in the tub, “Couple of times in this business, I’ve really regretted my decision to not drink while on the job. But, look at that,” she says, playfully grabbing Alice’s wrist which holds the bottle of alcohol, “...we’re off the clock. Little sip for good measure,” and assuming she does, she’ll take the bottle and place it at the base of the tub. She reaches her hand into the tub once more, looking at Alice’s face for a moment, the wounds on her arm beginning to bulge. 

Then she pauses, her arms going back to their normal lithe size. “Oh. You really meant it when you said that you could smell me. Here I thought you were doing some off-handed tipsy flirting.” She looks towards her backpack, “We need to plug your nose. I really don’t want you throwing up, this much blood is probably going to be a lot for you...” She goes to retrieve some extra gauze from her bag.

At "off-handed tipsy flirting," Alice's pale face, which was already becoming flush, gets even redder. "Oh fuck no!" she exclaims a little louder than she intended to, clearly surprising herself before bursting into laughter. She then barely manages between laughs to nod in agreement over Lilith's comment about her keen sense of smell.

"You aren't my type," Alice says, wiping her eyes clear, still grinning. "But that's because nobody's my type--I'm typeless!" She receives the gauze and proceeds to stuff her nose. Suddenly speaking quietly, no longer smiling, and looking at the simple silver wedding ring that she forgot to take off: "And, like, Jason knows it..."

Lilith’s laugh harmonizes with Alice’s. It’s strange... Though you know that she’s being fully honest with her laughter, there is a practiced nature to it. Almost like she’s copying your cadence in a slightly lower pitch. She grabs the black bag and mortar and pestle and brings it next to the tub, kneeling at eye level of Alice before handing the gauze over. “You really put me off-guard there for a moment.”

Lilith hums lightly in the back of her throat, taking a look at Alice’s wedding ring as she moves her gaze to it. “I can see lies just as easily as you can smell people. Now that ring... that ring does not feel like a truth. We’ve only recently met, so I only know so much about you. But I find it sad that I do not detect a lie when you tell me that you’re ‘typeless’... But everyone deserves a family. Everyone deserves love... but if you believe that being typeless is how you find your happiness... I suppose I would support you with that decision too.” Lilith points at the ring then opens her palm, offering to take it to keep it from getting bloodied.

Upon seeing Lilith's offer, Alice defensively covers her left hand with her right while pulling both away to her chest. She looks down. "Everyone... like, everyone thinks it's a decision," she replies in low tone, frowning. "Or even like a problem..." Alice shivers. "...But Keara and Mel know--and Jason knows..." She suddenly faces Lilith, her expression a mix of indomitable and pissed off. 

Just as swiftly, Alice turns to the door across the room. Her eyes glow silver, as does the door handle, and it swings open forcefully: bang. Then the Pathetic, enraged woman wearing just a ring and a patient gown and sitting in a portable tub proceeds to yell across the well-lit, nearly empty doctor's office with all her might. "STOP SEXUALLY HARASSING ME! I LOVE YOU BUT YOUR FEELINGS ARE NOT MY PROBLEM AND I DESERVE TO BE FUCKIN RESPECTED!" The door telekinetically slams shut as Alice lays down in the tub, legs still crossed and a hand partially covering her eyes, with a big sigh. 

After the incident with the door, Jason looks uneasy. "I'll be back in a few." He leaves the small practice.

"Wow," Lilith says, eyes widening as this unfolds in front of her. "Damn, you tell him," she says as she starts to grin despite herself. "We've gotta drink together more often. I'm happy to be the therapist's therapist, since it seems you've really been waiting to get that out of your system. But... as much as I want to continue talking to you in earnest, we need to complete the hard part. Afterwards, I'm happy to talk to you as much as you want. Especially since 'now that you know what I smell like, you can call me whenever you want,'" She giggles softly. "Ready for the bath, Alice?" 

Alice sits up and nods. "Bathtime," she whispers meekly, avoiding eye contact. "T-thanks--sorry," she quickly adds, confident that an apology is due but not quite able to nail down why. 

“Not necessary, but I’ll accept it anyway,” Lilith says, sitting up and placing her fingertips in the bottom of the tub. Her wounds bulge as the torrent of Jason begins to flow out of her.

Alone in the waiting room, Terry hears the muffled sounds of Alice from down the hall and past the closed door. These outbursts include, "Your blood is gross!" and "Eeew!" and, a few minutes later, "I'm sorry I yelled at you!" consistently followed by quiet pauses and then loose giggles and even full on laughter. There are also the fainter sounds of Lilith talking (and occasionally laughing too), probably doing her best to focus an increasingly inebriated patient on the task at hand while preparing the 'heart meal'.

"I'm gonna, like... be a dog someday," Alice says slowly four and a half minutes into the five-minute bath. She looks like something out of a horror movie, fresh blood up to her neckline and streaming down from her messy undercut/pixie cut, thick red lines slowly cutting down her pale forehead and cheeks. Her hair, head, and face are the last things to be 'washed,' and most of her concentration--what little is left of it--goes to keeping the cool, sticky liquid out of her eyes. "A doctor dog ... Dogtor Allie," she adds absentmindedly as she scoops up some of the liquid and smears it onto her cheek. Then, looking at her blood-covered hands: "This is, like, so fuckin gross." 

Lilith pours a mixture of flowers into the stone mortar as she converses with the inebriated Dogtor. She begins to break them down with the pestle into a thick paste before dripping some of her own blood into the concoction and continuing to grind. “I’ve met many types in this line of work. One guy was a mosquito superhero. Literally called himself “Mansquito”. But even he wanted to keep his humanoid form. Such an interesting desire... and you believe in it as fully as I believe in my own ambitions. Just don’t get dognapped and make a new Call of the Wild story, yeah?”

Almost to punctuate Allie’s final line Lilith lifts up her right hand and flexes her fingers. Dark red ichor seeps from her wounds and floats into the air, swirling around her wrists before converging into her palm. The orb of liquid shimmers and becomes thicker until it lightly touches her fingertips. With one final gentle squeeze, the liquid focuses and completely solidifies until she holds Jason’s heart. Allie swears she sees it beating for a few moments until Lilith plops it into the mortar and pestle with a squelch. “Yup. I promised you it wouldn’t be wholesome,” she jabs the pestle at the corners of the severed organ, slowly breaking it down. “You’re going to feel much better after this, though. A shower and maybe some carbs before we do it all over again for Jason.” Crrr... crrr... crrr, the mortar grumbles until the heart, flowers, and blood have been completely blended together. She lifts up the unholy meal above the rim of the portable tub, angling it away from Alice to not make her lose her appetite. “Swallow, don’t chew. It’ll be like eating an oyster. Ready, Alice?”

At the mention of dognapping, Alice giggles. "Nah, I'm gonna have a kickass dog walker," she declares, but then she quickly shifts to having a troubled expression as she fiddles with her blood-covered wedding ring. "... like, maybe ..."

The supernatural reconstitution of Jason's heart distracts her with a mix of awe and disgust. Starting to get overwhelmed despite the alcohol, Alice takes slow deep breaths as the concoction is prepared, which ends with another burst of giggles as Lilith approaches the tub. "Shit--this has, like, gotta make us married on some other level--double-fake married!"

The woman's laughter and smile is clearly mixed with a pile of negative emotions, but what she lacks in physical capabilities she makes up with Iron Will. Alice shifts just as rapidly to a serious and quiet nod and leans forward, lips to the edge of the mortar and eyes shut tight. "Double-fake married" echoes in her mind and her eyes water as she begins to slurp the absolutely disgusting ritual meal. At first she gags, but after a pause to regain composure and control, she proceeds, rapidly consuming it in a desperate attempt to alleviate the symptoms of her curse. 

The moment Lilith's concoction slips down Alice's throat, the burning starts. It begins at the base of her stomach, but not like a normal stomach ache from spicy foods. Nay, it's akin to the sensation of a very acidic solution, the likeness of either C-Stoff or T-Stoff, melting through Alice's stomach lining. Or like the raking of a boiling hot poker, aflame, digging into her insides. The agony is quite literally worse than anything she's ever experienced. 

And it doesn't stop there. 

Oh what a blessing it would be for this process to prove quick. But no, it rolls with the slowness of a cooling lava stream. First down, expanding to her lower torso and legs. Alice probably wishes she didn't have them. But that pain proves a blessing as her upper torso and arms are next, burning with a suffering Inferno that is next to impossible to bear. 

And once it reaches up to the head, it is not the face but the brain that bears the brunt of it. Alice's head will literally feel like it's about to burst. The front, the back, the temple, the top- every single part of her head will throb with a fiery anguish.

And this will last for a while- about an hour.

Alice takes little breaks between gulps to breathe, breathing which quickly becomes irregular as tears start to stream down her blood-smeared face. 

At first the crying comes from confusion, fear, and sadness, but soon it comes from the inconceivably overwhelming pain. With nothing else firm to hold onto, she grabs Lilith's wrists as tightly as she possibly can with bloody hands--in part to steady herself to continue consuming the meal and in part to simply not be alone. 

When the mortar is pulled away from her lips, Alice releases Lilith and then writhes in the tub, sobbing loudly until the pain finally hits her head. Then she proceeds to groan and, in the beginning, even yell from the utter anguish like a woman giving birth--until, finally wracked with exhaustion and overloaded, she is reduced to quiet whimpers and sobs, trembling as she lay on her side in the several inches of Jason's blood, sometimes whispering the names Mel, Keara, and even Jason. 

Lilith says nothing, but gives a reassuring smile as the woman consumes the concoction, allowing her to cry as the terrible meal is swallowed. It's only once she begins to convulse with pain does she enter a more focused state. She looks over Alice's physical form, making sure that she is medically stable, before using her senses to ensure that she's still emotionally with her. She lets Alice's fingernails dig into the wounds in her wrists, something that is enough to slice strips of flesh next to the cuts, but the woman does not even grimace at the sensation.

"Breathe, Alice. You are stronger than the Crypt," She whispers in a soft, cool tone. She puts two fingers up to her eyes, bending the blood on her face to be clear of the corners of her eyes so that she may weep without external stinging. "You have fought worse monsters than pain, breathe with me," she says as she continues to support her the best that she can. Upon a quick examination, her body looks fine, with the exception of her skin growing flushed from head to toe.

The pain reaches its peak at the top of the hour and right when it feels to Alice like she might just drop dead from the abnormally rapid pace of her heartbeat, the pain suddenly swirls within, sliding along her extremities and shifting back into her stomach. 

And the pain stops. But only for about a single breath of relief as she feels her stomach broil and groan. And then suddenly heave. Uh oh, something was coming up and quick.

What comes out of Alice into the tub is a black mucus with the consistency of coagulated blood. There isn't a lot of it, but it's particularly disgusting to bear. It plops into the blood and thins out rather unceremoniously. At which point, all sensation returns to Alice as she feels... a soothing cool breeze wash over her. She will feel... refreshed. In fact, she will feel like she's an entirely new person. She feels younger and more energetic. And even though she has no sense for it, she just knows that whatever was lurking deep within her is now absent.

And as for Lilith, even though she's still drenched in blood, Alice looks far far better than you've ever seen her. In fact, now that she is drenched in blood... she might even look better than normal like this to Lilith.

All these revelations are unfortunately overshadowed by the slowly blackening liquid inside of this bathtub...

"JASON, TERRY--COME HERE!" Alice yells to the waiting room as she stands up and wipes some of the blood away from her eyes (rather fruitlessly given her soiled hands). Her voice is unusually sober compared to before. Then she carefully steps out of the tub next to Lilith, trying hard not to slip, and readies to telekinetically grapple down whatever thing might emerge. 

Jason will drop the bottle of Jack Daniels (that he got at the corner store) that he'd been nursing while he contemplated life. He looks at Terry and draws his pistol. Running into the room, expecting to see some kind of crypt monster, he surveys the room. Seeing nothing unusual except a blood-soaked Alice standing next to Lilith, he lowers his weapon. "What? What's the problem?" His words are slightly sleered. Terry follows after him.

Lilith deftly leads Alice out of the tub and towards the bucket of her own discarded blood, eyes locked on the strange black ichor now manifesting in the center of the room. "Really now, the Curse comes to show its face," she says in an almost-playful tone. "Let's do it, then." Underneath Lilith's wounds, something seems to writhe and wrap around her muscle and bone. It pushes another pint of blood out of the bulging cuts, staining her t-shirt in dotted spatters. Her expression drops from that of focused compassion to cold calculation. Whatever lurks below the surface of her lily white skin... it does not emerge, but it does seem to be waiting. 

The tub blood blackens, darker than a sunken star. The angle is not right, but you can see your own reflection in it mirrored perfectly, as if it were a computer screen. But not for long. The blood begins to bubble- a steamless boil that violently shakes the tub. Steadily growing in intensity until other utensils and scanners inside the room begin to bounce and wheel around on their own. The floor becomes unsteady and dizzying to stand upon, taking all but the most dexterous of you to the floor. 

Then follows the decay. It creeps from beneath the tub- a slow crawl at first. The sterile tiles begin to crack and mold over. As it spider's out to touch different machines, fungus grows in between the wheels, the complex screens grow cracks, and the buttons must over. But within seconds, the decay suddenly surges all around the room. Each light it touches bursts as the fluorescent lights pop. Bits of the ceiling splinter off in sections and fall to the floor. The walls crumble and crack. It passes under your feet and even though it tries to creep up your shoes (or bare feet in Alice's case), it fails and moves on. When the decay reaches the door with which you all entered, it swings shut.

BAM!

…

You are all left in quiet darkness, save for a single weak light above you that blinks in rapid and random intervals. The rumbling ceases. Mold spores and dust float about in a nearly unrecognizable room that looks as if it had been neglected for decades. Dirt and old blood on the walls. Rusting instruments. Bacteria covering every dark and moist surface possible. The tub gurgles. A torrent of tub blood splashes out and onto the floor. It quickly slinks away, into the nearest wall. You can hear its surrounding presence.

"ErrrRA-A-A-A-A-A-"

The noise of what sounds like someone blowing into a fan, echoes around you before cutting off as if someone turned off a radio.

Then, the voices start, beginning beside Lilith, over her shoulder. A younger boy, someone none of you other than Lilith would recognize. But if she turns to face it, she's only greeted by the wall. "I bear new promised lands…"

The voice then shifts and moves. Suddenly, it is beside Terry. It's the voice of a young woman this time that nobody but Terry would recognize. Again, only greeted by wall when turning to look: "To those with horrors past."

It moves to Alice next. A very familiar voice of a woman who is normally so energetic and flirty. Now, her voice is sullied by a cold and distant disposition: "The lost… The confused… The hopeless… I shepard them. And you. You…"

The voice then centers on Jason--different sides of him. All greeted by nothing if he so looks.

In Alice's voice to the left: "Your… polluted minds."

In Abbas's voice to the right: "Your… pitiful bodies."

In Violet's voice behind: "Your… poor souls."

The presence returns to the tub as the black blood begins to move. Lilith would recognize it as very similar to how her coagulation worked when she summoned Jason's heart.

Keara: "I perfected you!" 

Terry's daughter: "Made you my kin!"

Lilith's Brothers: "Welcomed you! I opened my arms and accepted your ugliness!"

Alice: "But rejected? Me?!"

All of the voices chime in a demented dysfunctional choir,

" No.     No.    No.         No.    No.      No.   No.

    No.     No.     No.    No.         No.           No.

No.     No.          No.        No.     No.    No. No.

     No.     No.     No.  No.       No.      No.   No...”

The room begins to shake again. 

Terry pulls a flask of holy water out of his jacket and splashes the coagulated blood. “Back demon!”

“The last entity to puppet those voices became my pet,” Lilith shouts, and the black blood would know it to be true. “I hold no mercy for those trying to use them against me. Pray for servitude instead of banishment,” she says as she lifts her right arm in front of her and keeps her left pointed down to the bucket, her sword and shield respectively.

Alice, who had fallen to the floor during the dizzying spell, gets up and rushes to her bag, picking it up just as the decay engulfs the room. The small black designer backpack avoids the fate of the chair it was set on, a chair that's frame is now so rusted it looks like a breeze would make it topple over. Turning around to keep an eye on the tub, she starts to dig through the bag with blood-stained hands. Watching the thing absorb into the wall answers her longstanding question about Violet's fears of "the man in the wall." The familiar voices make her shutter, and her heart sinks at the claims it makes--a small bit of it ringing true. Finally, Alice holds what she was looking for. Speaking into the haunting choir, the woman, still wearing nothing but a patient gown and drenched in blood, grips a bracelet and says, "Kevin, I need your help." 

Suddenly the space beside Alice rifts, one second a crack and the next second a gap, as though two curtains in reality have been pulled apart. Leaping through that gap is a pure white, full-sized alicorn with a silver horn on its head and large feathery wings. It wears a diamond-shaped silver chest plate, and it looks around the dark, decrepit room, snorting softly. Alice reaches for it to steady herself as the room begins to shake again, a little bit of blood from under her fingernails marring its perfect coat. As soon as Sparklesword enters, the rift closes. 

"I feel a little under-equipped," Jason says as all this is going on. But he points his gun at the entity anyway.

The voices cease as the blob in the tub begins to rise, piling upon itself in droves, ignoring the splash of liquid that is swiftly absorbed. It rises to nearly as tall as the theater, closing on 8 feet. It grows arms and a torso, and raises them into the perfect position for a violin to spawn in its hands, ready for play. The head is last- that of a porcelain doll face made of ceramic.

Or at least, that's what it looks like, as its expression changes--molds into that of a wide toothy smile. It readies the bow against the violin string and begins slowly dragging it down the instrument. 

You expect a note to play, but instead, a hellish cacophony of screams echo around you, with the voices of your friends, family members, and co-workers (contractors included). Every single person you have heard speak, whether you remember or not, screech from all around you. This time, however, if you turn to look at the walls, you see dozens of faces protruding from the tile surface- all twisted into distorted expressions of rage, anger, and fear. 

You can not hear yourselves think. The screeches and shrieks assault your ears, beat against your skull, and batter at your brains.

"Not more fucking dolls!" Jason yells into the cacophony. 

The room goes a bit upside down for Lily as her ears ring and the internal balance fluid in her ears does somersaults. The headache isn't pleasant either. She was... sure she didn't take a sip of that alcohol… Terry manages to fight off the worst of it even though his vision does blur a bit. Alice and Jason aren't quite so lucky. The floor quakes to them even though it isn't physically moving.

If pulling Wei’s hair is how to make them insanely pissed off, messing with Lilith’s head is her fury trigger. The thing underneath Lilith’s arms finally emerges, a viscous carmine that weaves between her eternal wounds like veiny yarn. “Fuck off!” she shouts over the reverberating screams as she flexes her fingers and sends countless vicious spikes of blood towards the creature’s instrument. 

Jason will spend a point of source to use his grit power to ignore penalties. 

Terry begins to speak to the creature. “Hey, you know, I bet you have interesting fish down there in hell. You ever caught any?”

Alice drops her bag as she steadies herself again against the horse to avoid falling as the floor beneath her feet trembles. Suddenly she has a headache, but it's a mild one. While sliding on the bracelet, she commands the alicorn to protect Jason. It casually trots over to the gunman to stand between him and the siren, wings almost blocking the enemy from his view (although there is plenty of view under it). 

Then, as Terry strikes up an unusual conversation and Lilith attacks, their voices contributing to the existing noise, Alice unplugs her nose and takes in a deep sniff--first and foremost smelling the drying blood on her and the room's utter decay. 

Over the course of the evening, the group has seen what must be over 20 gallons of blood come out of Lilith's body in one way or another. Unlike the streams that she drops into buckets or small amounts that she bends around her hands, this attack is fully and precisely controlled. Each of her fingers control one or more of the blood spikes, articulating them with surgical precision. The veins wrapped around her hands beat in-time with her heart (elevated, but not as fast as one would think given the situation) as they blast the instrument to pieces. The streams whip around the creature as it dissipates into nothing before returning to Lilith's arms and hiding underneath her skin once more.

Lilith's fury reigns true. While everyone else prepares for a fight, she wastes no time in ending this shit show here and now. The spikes of blood arcs over her limbs and surges forth in the blink of an eye. A few miss, but most of them strike the terribly conditioned violin, shattering it into a mess of wood and string.

In an instant, the shrill shrieks turn to pained wails. The contractors can see the faces in the walls twist in agony and recede one by one, decreasing the overall volume with each. When the last one disappears, the room returns to silence. The perfect atmosphere to watch as the porcelain entity begins to dissolve from the top down and dissipate into the air. 

In moments the tub is empty, save for a sheet of drawing paper. Alice and Jason can recognize it as one of Violet's drawings. A family portrait, except Jason's, Alice's, and Abbas's faces are all vigorously scratched over with black crayon. The room remains decayed, but the looming presence and air of... whatever all of that was has dissipated.

Upon seeing the drawing, Alice's face pales--which it can actually do now that she has a healthy skin tone--and she immediately closes her eyes, standing still and ignoring everyone else.

"Jiminy Cricket! Is everyone okay?"

"I've been better... I've also been worse. How's everybody else?" Jason goes and rests himself against the surgical table, that not a couple hours ago Terry and Lilith removed his heart. 

The surgical table collapses. Jason goes down with the table. As Jason lands with a thud on the ground. "Fuck my life… Hey, Doc, I think you need to fix your ceiling." The magical winged pony walks over to Jason on the floor and nips gently at his hair to see if he's alright, continuing to fulfill his duty to protect him.

“What in the Sam heck? Is that a My Little Pony?” The male steed looks back at Terry for a moment before focusing again on Jason. He has a sword cutie mark on his upper left thigh. 

Jason lays on the floor staring at the ceiling for a few more moments. An extradimensional pony licking his hair. "How is this not the most fucked up part of my night?" he says out loud more to himself. He waves his hand to shoo the pony away before he moves to stand up.

The coldness in her eyes does not leave as she calmly walks towards the tub to methodically search for any remaining signs of the black fluid that once filled it. "I'm alright, Terry, thank you for asking," she says without looking at him, "We got the parasite out. I'd recommend that we scrape off some of this decay on the walls and study it to see if we can create some kind of protection against whatever nonsense is in the Crypt," she looks over at Alice, noticing that she's a little distant in the moment, "Y'all might need it." 

Alice's eyes open and glow silver as the crayon drawing portrait of the Decker family floats up to her hand. She immediately crumples it, visibly pissed off. Then Alice looks around the dark room for a moment, at Jason getting off the filthy ground, the white pony gently tugging on his shirt to help him up, Terry approaching Jason with a stethoscope in hand for a checkup (correct me if I'm wrong), and finally at Lilith who stands close by. "Since that thing attempted to choke my daughter as it attacked us, the plan has changed," Alice states in a low tone. "My next step is taking down the actual siren and all of her minions in the Detroit Crypt."

“Why don’t you guys just call the cops on it? Seems like something the government would want to clean up, if it’s a known location.”

“Sounds like a hammer. Government doesn’t know the first thing about how to deal with things like that,” Lilith says with a scoff. “If Alice’s daughter is connected, too, we don’t want to risk her being ‘cleaned up’ along with it.” 

Alice raises an eyebrow to the suggestion before remembering that Terry doesn't have the full story. Then she nods as Lilith answers. 

"Normals can't handle it," she answers plainly. "Jason and I and one other were hired to clean up the place several months ago, but we failed and became cursed. No, I've had several people in mind for this... Edgar owes me a favor, Mark Collins has already agreed to it ..." She looks at Lilith and Terry. "Of course, you're welcome to come too, but you've already done so much for us tonight--please don't feel obligated." 

“I’m no monster hunter. I’m a doctor,” Terry replies. “But let’s get this mess cleaned up and check Jason.”

Lilith sighs. “More fucking hammers… but at least Edgar is effective on multiple fronts… well, at least not when he thinks he’s another person.” She shakes her head, “Jesus, that job was a shit show… But, I need a good therapist. I’m pretty resilient, but some of my abilities put a great deal of mental strain on me. I would be happy to trade favors. I’d also like to put that doll in a box and shake it for reasons that have become personal.” 

Jason slowly rises from his downed position at the surgical table. Continuing to try to wave the weird pony away. "I don't need help getting up!" he says. He lets Terry approach to do his check up. When Terry's close he whispers (at least he thinks he does), "What's everyone saying? I see lips moving, but nothing’s coming out."

Alice raises an eyebrow, lips still pursed and fists still clenched. "Thank you Lilith. I can attest that Edgar is mentally stable--stabler now. Also, I'm open to alternatives if you want something other than 'hammers.' But my goal is to take down the whole place, so hammers seem fitting." 

“Hammers are good for this situation,” Lilith replies. “I just hope that Superman isn’t as aloof as he usually is. I’d like to learn as much about it as I can as it breaks, however.”

Alice and Lilith turn to Jason, surprised and concerned by what he just said. "W-what?" Alice asks.

Jason looks really bad. Sickly. Pale skin, bloodshot eyes, pimples full of pus, and maybe he's even lost weight--almost as if he's about ready to decompose before your eyes.

“His condition is worsening. We need to complete the treatment right now.”

Lilith reaches her left hand towards the bucket of blood. She wills a liter into her possession, keeping it in motion around her fingers. “I can monitor his vitals like this,” she says, reaching her right hand out to him. “Take my hand and breathe,” she exaggeratedly mouthes to him. 

"Whatever the doc said sounds good." Jason looks around the room confused.

Lilith grips Jason’s hand, scratching a cut into his palm with one sharp fingernail. She flicks the blood from her left hand into space around their interlocked hands, creating two interlocking rings that surge, then spin and get absorbed into Jason’s palm. Jason will suddenly become aware of a stinging pain on his wrists, very similar in sensation to Lilith’s scarring… or rather, he would feel it if he were not painless right now.

Alice rapidly digs through her bag and pulls out two noise-canceling earbuds, which she then puts into Jason's ears as he holds Lilith's hand. Speaking telepathically such that only Jason (might) be able to hear her while she silently looks at him, taking deep breaths: "Lilith is going to monitor your vitals..." Her mind races. What to do? "...We need to get you home." 

As Alice puts in the ear buds he looks at her. "Home, I like home. I don't feel so good..." Jason looks at his hand, not flinching when the cut is made. He looks back at Alice. "Can we go now? I'd like to not die twice tonight."

Alice nods and turns to Terry, speaking quickly. "How many times can you heal Jason tonight--like, whatever it was that you did during our first check up? I want to take him home--either we drive or I book a private jet--whatever's faster. We're in no condition to take down that thing a second time in one go." 

"I can treat Jason as many times as I need. Once per Injury?"

"Perfect, heal him right now please to reset the clock. Then we're taking him home--and unfortunately you'll have to join us for the 30-hour drive to make sure he survives." Alice looks around the decrepit room. "I know you'd do it for free, but I'll make sure you're covered for the extra services--and the room." She walks over and picks up her backpack and the crumpled paper beside it, her anger reigniting. Her gaze meets Lilith's. 

At about this time, Lilith’s phone would get a text alert, from an unknown international number. “Felt that. Need help or have got things handled?” -Dr. V.

Lilith points her left hand towards the bucket of blood once more, causing some of the liquid inside to defy gravity and lift towards her in a thin stream. She then extends her right hand to Alice, "I like seeing you like this. I've got things to fight for too. Let's work together and make sure the Crypt burns. This will make sure that we know where to find each other and I will be much more effective at healing and protecting you." 

"I don't take threats to my daughter lightly," Alice answers in a low tone as she watches the process of being Marked, cringing briefly from the pain. "Thank you, Lilith." Through the same process, Alice becomes aware of the distance, direction, and vital state of Lilith. She feels the sensation of cuts on her forearms, and a dull wriggling underneath. Compelled physical empathy. 

“Terry,” Lilith starts, taking her hand back from Alice after a final glance, “Let’s get some sterile vessels. I’m not the best with science, but I’d like to see what I can learn about this rot on the walls, how it might link to my occult knowledge. We will leave promptly after collection.”

"Well shoot. Who’s gunna clean all this up?" 

“I’ve got it covered, don’t worry.” Alice repeats.

“How clean is your consultation room?” Lilith then sticks her hand into her bucket, sucking all of the blood back into her arms, leaving the inside completely clean. She will then take a look at the patterning of the walls, go about gathering rot, and anything else of note from this supernatural manifestation.

There isn't anything on these walls she hasn’t seen before if she’s ever been to an abandoned building that has seen absolutely no use for over 50-100 years. Which is quite peculiar for a supernatural manifestation as powerful as what you just experienced. 

Lilith takes a moment while she's inspecting and investigating the walls and floors to think upon the past few minutes. And as she powers through the screams of her brother being repeated in her head, she comes to the realization that whatever mental attack was launched at them was followed by an oddly specific set of symptoms that manifested in a specific order. Ratting eardrums, followed by a reverberation in the skull, and finished off with the ridiculously painful headache. Maybe some sort of auditory blocker would help in that regard. At which moment, following this revelation, her eyes drift behind the tub and toward a very easy thing to miss on this white tile floor. The violin strings curled up on the cracked surface like small wires. And it's only something you're able to find because every so often, the ends twitch on their own. In addition, something that you notice is a single cigarette butt behind one of the instruments. The only reason you'd have to think that this wasn't just an example of gross incompetence and uncleanness is that it does not look like it suffered from any decay.

"Mmm," Lilith hums, walking away from the disgusting walls and heading towards the center of the room near the tub again. She kneels down and examines the twitching violin strings which blend into the rotted and ground. "What have we here, then? Looks like our friend left a present..." Her red fingernails extend about five inches and morph into blunted tweezers, which she then uses to gingerly pick at one of the two strings wriggling about the ground. Now that Lilith thinks about it, the violin that had manifested in the hands of that doll was missing half of its strings. As she picks at those strings, they don't seem to visibly react, but Lilith’s ears start to ring after a little bit of poking.

Lilith takes the pair of strings and shows them to the room. "Weird... Makes my ears ring. Wonder what might happen if we strung this to an instrument... or perhaps wore it? Whatever these are, they are closely related to that thing that you're calling the Siren," she says before wrapping the two strings together in a circle to organize them a little better. She will then make her way over to the cigarette butt, sure that wasn't there moments before. "Don't think I've ever seen Terry smoke... Jason? You smoke?"

Jason looks over at Terry, "What did she say?" He asks, louder than he expected.

Lilith can’t help but laugh, “Oh, yeah, that’s right…” Lilith will find a plastic bag then will pick up the cigarette butt with her tweezer fingernails, trying to see if there was any supernatural sensation with this odd object as well before putting it away in the sanitary container.

"This all looks fascinating, but if you don't need me I'm gonna bail." Jason starts to walk towards the door. He's not moving very fast due to his deuterated state, but seems determined. "The car can take me home." 

To which Alice answers, looking at the unusual find with concern, "Neither of us smoke. But let's hurry up and get Jason home--Terry, please join us in our car for the ride and do whatever you did to me to try to cure my curse during our first checkup to Jason."

"Give me a call when it’s time, Alice. I’ll be in contact with you as well."

Alice nods. Then she rushes out to catch up with Jason, telepathically explaining all of the conversation that he just missed. 

"I'm done with this." Jason continues to leave the building. "I'm going home."

Shittier Pay

A conversation between Alice and Albert the paranoid hacker, several hours into the long drive home.

"The people you hired are morons. Sat around too afraid of murdering some clones. They got froggy so I ended up doing the whole thing myself in one day. I have their old phones, a hard drive they tried to take, and I got a look inside the inky void that whomever they left to protect the place has. Guessing it’s some sort of pocket dimension they can put stuff inside given it's all shadowy. I'm betting it's "WUmbratainment. Anyways, I'll be back to you with the data I recover from it soon. Inspector got me a name at least, but still. Oh, also I have tire tread patterns, DNA samples, hairs they left behind, used cigarette butts en masse including some strange ones burnt at both ends rather than smoked, video of the strange apparatus they were using to watch my drone, and body imprint patterns from the bed sheets with video of all of it."

"Overly cautious sounds more accurate, and, to be fair, they were last minute volunteers--and I 'hired' you as well." Alice listens to the list, impressed but not surprised, until he mentions bedsheets. He found their beds? "I'm guessing you didn't singlehandedly murder them all and they're on the move but we know who they are now and can possibly track them--is that right?" 

"No, I didn't murder them all. I was going to. Found the tunnels under their complex and was going to leak some Soman into their ventilation, but they'd already been spooked by the time I showed up. From the cooling of the tire rubber on the ground from the point they peeled out from, they left probably within the day--who by the way, ditched for greener pastures after taking a round to the dome. Also, yes, I did find their beds. Seems most of them still need to sleep.  They also didn't clean their sheets and left a trash can full of mostly broken burner phones. Unfortunately for them, that's not enough to just stomp on a phone. So we can assume the group is pretty technically incompetent. Once I find whatever is going on there, I'm going to start committing identity fraud and freezing their assets across the board. Right now, though, I'm hacking the local intranet and getting access to ring doorbells, security cams, and the like to try and follow a path from where they tore out to let you know what direction they went in. Also I wasn't joking when I said one of them literally tried to snatch this hard drive I got from me when I cracked open their computer. Weird shadow tendrils came out, but I knew that light bulb was one of the eyes of the deep state and put a round in it before it could finish the job. Different one still got my drone, but I did get to see into what else they kept in that place and uh... don't engage these people on an open field. Saw a TOW missile launcher strapped to a back of a humvee with some strange shadow creature at the controls, along with a whole fuck ton of heavy sniper rifles with the same story. Also a sketch book? Don't know what the fuck that's about." 

To be fair, Albert was beyond the shadow of a doubt in Alice's mind overly cautious as well--just more... aggressive. "Probably for the best you didn't poison the air given that the primary goal is to rescue Mars--not recover her dead body..." Theo got shot in the head? But if he was okay enough to ditch then I'm assuming that means he's fine? I'll call him next. Albert's comment on the group's burner phones makes Alice sigh. She had similarly smashed and then threw away her own burner phone before fleeing Texas. I guess that makes me technologically incompetent...

Lightbulbs? Deep state? "Damn, like, thanks for being the one to take initiative, and I'm glad you're alright. I'm on a long cross-country drive home at the moment--oh, by the way, I'm de-cursed now." No one fed my soul to Elon Musk, she thinks to herself with a slight smile.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear you're okay. I wouldn't murder Mars either if she was there. Just, with so many powerful snipers, it'd be at that point where I'd either poison the air and handle the group or call in backup if she was. She wasn't. We knew they'd flown the coop, unfortunately. So I was going to kill the sniper and his friends that had shot Theo in his brain. Not one to tolerate that kind of cowardice without responding in kind." Albert could be heard sighing on the other side. 

"Fair enough," Alice replies to Albert's explanation and his intolerance for cowardice. No wonder he considers Inspector Bluedo and Oz to be morons.

"Either way, good to hear you're uncursed. I'm going to set the investigator and the... car guy? I don't know what he does. Either way, I'll set them both on the pursuit track and operate from the shadows as I do. Sorry that I couldn't get to Indiana fast enough to stop the goblin man from getting shot in the head, but I had a job interrupt my journey."

"No need to apologize. Interruptions happen..." Frankly, Alice's whole life involved layers upon layers of interruptions, some voluntarily taken on and others not. "I'll check in with Theo to see what he might need. I'm sure between myself and a few allies he'll be fully recovered soon. Now that the on-the-ground team is down a person, should I see if I can find someone else to provide support?" 

"The reason for the two's reluctance to head in was their apparent lack of combatants. We should all be able to kill people on some level though. It's part of the territory that violence is required at times, either in terms of being able to inflict it or respond in kind. So they'd probably prefer someone who can fight better than they can. Though they didn't seem too keen on the idea of liberally employing napalm or ramming their car into people so I'd probably ask for a front liner to make up for what they lack."

"With Kevin Sparkles gone and Mark Collins' recent arrest," something Alice saw on the news minutes before calling Albert, "the number of available front liners in my reach is shrinking. I'll try Mark first, as I can easily cover his bail, but I suspect he'll want to lay low for a bit. There's one other heavy hitter I have in mind if he declines. After that, I'm reaching out to friends of friends again--like the Inspector. But the worst they can say is no."

"I saw that. The military stepping in to chain up a superhero for crossing a line they didn't want him to is pretty harsh, so I'm imagining there's more to it than his publicly stated offense. I would be a bit careful around that, but, I'm sure you can handle the DA at least. Seems like your strongest area. "

"As I said, it's really not preferred. He's such a public figure, and in the news again..." Alice sighs. "I'll see what I can do. Continue to keep a phone on you, even if it's dead, so we can stay in touch."

"I know. The news constantly. I don't trust him myself, but that's just my instincts flaring up. Telling me that he's not one to stick around. Plus. All the attention. Euuugh. That many cameras at the same time would make me nauseous. Either way, I will keep a phone on me. Is there anything I need to be made aware of what's happened in the meantime in your network?" 

Alice raises an eyebrow. Did he just mention the Network--or maybe he meant my general network... "Uh, I suppose there is one other thing. I'm in the middle of coordinating a job to take down the Detroit Crypt in about a week, with the goal of killing its guardian and de-cursing the place. The job will involve quite a few of my allies--five or six of them, some who owe me favors and others who are involved for personal reasons--and it will be extremely dangerous. Besides logistics, I don't have skills and expertise to contribute, so I'll be on the sidelines for this one. It's not really relevant to your current job though..." Alice chuckles. "You know, I'm sounding like a harbinger but with shittier pay!" 

"Unfortunately you are, but thankfully it's a matter of personal resolution that's needed seeing to for a while. Thankful I haven't been cursed yet, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't changed some of my job procedures to avoid coming into direct contact with mystical objects or locations before I'd verified some means of preventing them from fucking me up too bad. Like wearing an NBC suit before going out to the nuclear plant. You don't want cancer, you gotta take precautions. I'd still be prepared for the curse to reach out and touch you somehow when they start smashing shit. Prepare yourself with as many specific anti crypt measures as you can, and of course. Be ready to employ some good old fashioned lead while running away at full speed if shit goes south. I can create shields myself, but I feel like I might be redundant with the amount of people you have running around."

"That's on my radar. We were going to do the same ritual for Jason. However, in the middle of my ritual--which felt like complete and utter hell--the crypt guardian sent ghost things that attempted to strangle Violet." Her tone drops briefly. "No one touches my daughter without consequences. Now that I know it can reach out to her at will, the plan is to tear the entire Crypt down. But first an occultist is looking into defensive measures for the, uh, 'Crypt divers.' I'm also working on employing a few extras who can do more than point-and-shoot combat to try to keep Violet and I alive while the main team does their work. Plus that doctor who can perform resurrections, as insurance." 

"Understandable. I apologize for not being an 'occultist'; those types are normally operating entirely on rumor and keep terrible notes so it's been hard for us to develop any follow up methods that are more reliable for those of us who are looking to produce wards against the mole demons that are crawling up from hell in the next hundred years. I personally don't trust them much, but you can't discount everything you hear. Especially when evidence of a curse is so prevalent. Dismantling the entire thing is going to be tough. Especially if they don't necessarily operate on traditional geometry, or if they have control over the space, but hopefully if you do enough damage they'll agree to release Jason and Violet just to be done with the issue." 

Alice smiles at Albert's distrust of occultists. Technically most conspiracy theorists could fall into that same description. "The occultist I know is one of the best there is, given that the ritual was successful." She nods to the rest, a gesture unseen over their supernaturally confidential conversation. "Indeed. In the meantime, we have our work cut out for us. I'll let you know if I've confirmed a new teammate for the Goshen job and, regardless, check in on the developments in about an hour." The call ends. 

-------

Princely Sums

Alice (finally) supernaturally calls Amarjeet. Despite the phone number being hidden, the caller ID is "Friend of Mark Collins" with the profile picture of a paw print icon.

After a few rings the line picks up. You have reached the Inderpal agency. How can I help you?" A woman's voice, slight British accent

"Hello Amarjeet, my name is Alice and we're speaking on a supernaturally confidential line. No one can see us speaking or hear us, and what we say cannot be recorded. Would you like to test that?"

"I see. How do you mean 'supernatural'? My mobile is rather advanced, and I always record my work calls."

"Your phone is just a focus for my ability. This conversation is actually taking place via telepathy, with the illusion that it's happening through your phone. If you'd like, I can 'hang up' so you can see if what we've said so far has been recorded."

"That won't be necessary. Again - how can I help you?"

"I'm considering offering you an immediate job to recover a kidnapped supernatural child. Early this morning the child was subtly taken from a police station in Goshen, Indiana, by a group of supernatural adults. They tried to cover their trail, but a hacker friend of mine discovered their local hideout, which they recently fled, and many of their identities. He's currently working on pinpointing their new location. The group consists of at least one sniper, a hacker, and possibly someone who can manipulate memories. Mark Collins described you as a 'mercenary, investigator, hacker, and jack of all trades.' Is that accurate?" 

Meanwhile, Alice uses Abbas’s burn phone to Google "Interpal Agency." She mainly finds the disastrous, career-ending video where a young Sikh agent inadvertently caused the death of the British prime minister some years back, and the outpouring of hate that continues to this day. The agency appears to provide close protection services, security consultation, and some custom equipment. It’s based out of India, with offices in London, Dubai, and Hong Kong. 

The woman's slightly impatient tone changes a bit into an exasperated sigh, "Mercenary? Not a sterling recommendation then, I'll need to update my CV. Most of those other qualities are reasonably accurate, though I don't fancy myself a Private Investigator as much as a Close Protection Specialist. Have done a priority extraction from time to time."

There's a clear smile in Alice's voice. "Mark isn't exactly the most intellectual nor perceptive, so I wouldn't let that worry you too much. I do want to stress, though, that this job may be unusually difficult and dangerous given that the kidnapping group is a group of supernaturals of unknown size. That being said, are you interested and available in taking this on? If so, you'd likely work with one other. My hacker is extremely talented and prefers to stay in the shadows, but he's capable even on the frontlines. I'm just afraid that this is too big for him to handle alone."

"So a gang of unusual terrorists. I might be available depending on the scope - I do have other responsibilities, & a missing person case can be an extended task. What sort of compensation did you have in mind? I'm certain Mr. Collins mentioned my ‘mercenary’ sensibilities."

"No he didn't, although I expected as much. To be honest, I don't know what the going rate is for something like this. Cash? Concerning services, I am a supernaturally effective psychologist; I can rapidly heal the mind of most illnesses. I'm also building a Network of talented people like ourselves to facilitate the trading of goods and services while maintaining a certain level of privacy. Perhaps someone else in my group has an item or service I can acquire for you, if you're looking for something specific? Also, if you, like, lose a limb on the job, I can arrange for your healing. In terms of valuable items, I have something that lets you hack into technological and old fashioned devices, although that sounds redundant with your skillset..." There's a pause, hinting at Alice's hesitation. "I also have an unusual bracelet that has a broad set of powers--summoning an overtly magical horse that will guard you, summoning that same horse to ride away from danger extremely quickly, turning into an overtly magical horse, and a sword that can shrink down into a small charm. However, I would only pay you with that if you succeeded."

There is a lengthy pause. Even an awkward one. Finally, she responds with, "Look here Miss or Mrs. Alice; I have no interest in this ‘supernatural’ nonsense. Nor am I any longer in the market for healing, especially from the kind of company Mr. Collins keeps. I work for money. Typically princely sums thereof, as I will get results, or will die trying." There is a moment where she hesitates there, as if that last part wasn't entirely supposed to be said out loud. Either way, she bulls onward, "Keep the witchcraft and other bollocks for those who peddle in them. I only need my skills, my faith, and my tools to get results--and a payday, of course. That being said, my needs are currently well situated by my current contract, and I can't afford a long search. Perhaps you would like to simply propose a bounty for information on this girl, and I'll consider it?"

Now that is an answer that Alice hasn't heard from anyone else in her line of work, ever. Well, she certainly sounds confident--and isn't a fan of Mark. "It wouldn't be a search; it would be a rescue. I already have several people on the ground who are tracking her--it's the extraction that they probably cannot pull off. Assuming that happens in the next day or two, since it wouldn't be productive to trail after them forever, would you like to propose a price?" It would have been nice if Amarjeet had said outright that compensation equated solely to cash, but here they are. 

"A day or two is hardly time to orient a proper extraction. Even that being contingent on my location, current operations, the validity of any information you have gathered as well as any plans made by these terrorists that will need to be circumvented. Granted, if the situation is desperate and a life is at stake a month to plan is probably not going to come easily… I would need to do my own due diligence to accurately scale the operation."

Alice listens quietly, beginning her response with a sigh. "It isn't a life or death situation. The group is going to keep the child indefinitely and attempt to brainwash her to join their cause. They do know that they're being tracked--although I don't think they know who is doing the tracking--so it's realistic that they're making plans to be on the defensive. But I understand the need to do due diligence, and I apologize for not understanding the complexity of the request. Thank you for your time." 

"What do you mean thank you for my time? A girl is being trafficked by insane, godless cultists - of course one should research the strengths and weaknesses of said opposition: however, these mental jobs never allow for that, now do they?" Her tone has changed now, could even be called venomous.

It takes three quiet seconds for Alice to recover from this second round of conversational whiplash. She had hoped that more details about the situation would engender a little empathy, but this new direction far exceeded her expectations. "You're completely right--this is an absolutely horrible situation and your help would be appreciated. Let me pass your number on to the hacker who is currently coordinating the mission so that he can share what little information he's been able to gather. Is it still [PHONE NUMBER]?" 

"Yes, yes, that's my bloody personal line. "

"Great. As a warning, the hacker is as paranoid about government conspiracies as he is capable and intelligent--so I recommend you ignore his occasional tangents about the Illuminati and fluoride in the water. Once you're caught up on the situation, we can determine how involved you want to be and what you'd consider to be fair compensation." Hopefully her sudden passion will make her more affordable... Then, fearing Amarjeet will change her mind, Alice promptly ends the call.

Someone Else

It’s early Saturday morning. Dr. Melanie Dakkera, wearing only her underwear and covered with a fluffy orange comforter on a twin bed in her tidy bedroom, wakes up to her phone ringing. She rubs her eyes with a yawn--having stayed up a bit later than usual the night before due to chatting with Keara--and then reaches for the phone on the nightstand. It’s probably just Alice letting her know that Jason got home safely after the 30-hour cross-country trip. She answers, putting it on speaker before laying back down with a plop.

“Jason's home, and I’m going on another job."

“Now, really?”

“Yeah, and you’re not going to like it.”

“I never do.”

“I know, but this one you’re really not going to like.”

Mel telekinetically grabs and then glances at phone. The profile pic shows a much healthier looking, de-cursed headshot of Alice. The two look 100% alike again, aside from Mel wearing fake glasses and Alice having an edgy undercut/pixie cut. “It can’t be worse than the Crypt one.”

Alice answers quietly. “Not that kind of worse--like, potentially worse for you.”

Mel’s tone drops. “What is it?”

“I’m, uh, being cast in a Pepsi ad as an overtly supernatural person and, like, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure they never see my face.”

Mel sighs. “And if you fail?”

There’s a long pause. “If I fail,” Alice answers slowly, “then you can say that it’s not you--it’s someone else.”

“It’s ‘Alice Decker,’ who is uncomfortably married to Jason Decker, who's child is demon possessed, who might be wanted by the FBI, and who is now starring in a Pepsi ad.” Mel pauses. “It really is time for you to ditch that identity.”

“I know… soon.”

“Soon.” The line is quiet once more for a few long seconds. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will and, uh … thanks.”

"You know what I want,” Mel replies.

"What we want," Alice corrects. The call ends.

The nearly perfect copy of the original Melanie Dakkera lays there for a few minutes longer, frowning, thumb pressed into her temple as she debates what to do next. Probably best to create an ironclad alibi, just in case things become dicey like the Texas job. For all Mel knew, the task would turn into “get framed for the murder of a famous actor while being filmed for a soda ad.” Eventually the Pathetic, calculated, compassionate woman pulls her laptop up from the side of her bed with another sigh and begins to form a plan.

-------

Supernaturally Delicious

A small horse with a bright blue mane, small feathery wings, and a blue heart cutie mark gallops through the misty, well-lit woods. Long streaks of light and shadow cast patterns on this majestic creature's pearly white fur, which, after several seconds, is suddenly ridden bareback by a sparkly female apparition in flowy garb with a form and face that some would say distinctly resembles Dr. Melanie Dakkera and Dr. Alice Decker. The camera cuts away to a majestic stag similarly galloping through the forest. However, as it leaps into the air it transforms into what some would recognize as Nanook's true form--a humanoid with large antlers. Just as the magical pony arrives at the destination, Nanook lands with an earth-trembling stomp, cracking the ground beside a boulder that has a well-placed can of Pepsi's latest flavor. Nanook picks up the shiny, dewey can, opening it with slow-motion perfection and bringing it to his lips. Suddenly the can has a silver glowing aura as it flies out of his hands towards the pony, who's eyes also glow. The pony proceeds to drink the Pepsi, head turned upwards, telekinetically holding it just right to pour it down a long stream into her mouth. The final scene zooms in on the product. "Pepsi. Supernaturally delicious," Morgan Freeman says in his god-like voice. The can glows once more as it's telekinetically crushed flat, the sugary liquid inside exploding a moment before the advertisement ends.

-------

Slowly Diverge

The real-life My Little Pony original character (OC) takes slow, deep breaths as it lays in the rather cramped aisle of the limo during the one-hour ride home. 

“They got my face on camera--on the ad."

“I expected as much,” Mel replies coolly.

“However, no one on the set or at the studio saw my human form, and I never signed anything. I only spoke telepathically to a makeup artist and then whispered to my one colleague when we were alone. I transformed on the way over in the limo before he joined me, and I’ll transform back after he gets dropped off. And the limo doesn’t have any cameras--I checked.”

There is a long pause as Mel uses the fresh information to reach the same conclusion as Alice. “I’ll start looking for a quality lawyer, and you call Albert.”

"I will right after this." Alice glances over at Nanook, who sits nearby on a plush black leather seat, looking out the window as the world supernaturally passes by. He is a stocky man with red eyes and scarred skin wearing tribal clothing with animal furs visible beneath the layers and sturdy boots. His braided hair and beard are laced with ornamental beads, and protruding from his head is a pair of glorious antlers. Alice’s backpack and neatly folded clothes are right beside him. He had faithfully carried her stuff around for the several hours of their job so that Alice didn’t have to do so telekinetically. Frankly, even if he had seen her true form, she is confident it wouldn't matter. He seems to be a polite, animal-loving luddite who lives in the wilderness, forging his own path in complete independence and isolation from the modern world.

“Also, uh, you should ditch your backpack and your favorite outfit,” Alice adds quietly.

“I did that right after the Texas job.” Mel sounds slightly annoyed. She really loved that backpack and outfit. There is another long pause before Mel asks in a softer tone, “Are you still going to deal with the Crypt?"

“... That’s next. I still need to get ahold of a few people and see when they're free, but it's looking like it'll happen in a few weeks. It may take a few days to make me legally dead, and it may take a few days for the ad to be published..." Neither know much about making ads, but surely there are many post-filming steps? "So maybe I can get this taken care of beforehand.”

“I know you're considering staying with him, but have you thought about what Jason's going to tell his family when 'Alice' is legally dead?"

Alice is quiet. The brief conversation she had with his mother replays in her mind. Then the wedding photoshoot resulting in "evidence" that they never sent to his parents due to reaching the understanding that their "marriage" would be whatever they wanted it to be between them. Frankly, Alice still has no idea--not after two days ago, at Terry's office, with Jason treating her like that. It's no consolation to consider that Jason might not survive the upcoming Crypt job. Even with such a big, capable group and Terry on standby outside, death feels like a very real posibility for him, seemingly always right around the corner.

“One thing at a time,” Mel finally says, breaking the long silence. It’s the same comforting phrase that Alice has used with her clients, now being spoken to herself by someone who is practically herself. As the months go on, the two women slowly diverge, shaped by their different experiences. Nevertheless, thirty three years of sameness is a firm foundation.

After a long pause, the woman who will soon shed the name Alice finally repeats, “One thing at a time.” The call ends.

Intellect, Detail, and Insanity

The telepathic, supernaturally obscured conversation between therapist and hacker takes turns and twists.

Teeth extraction. A suicide note and a camcorder. A smokeless fire in a double-walled container. After determining the details of how exactly to best fake Alice Decker’s death, the woman who would soon no longer be called Alice apologizes for the extreme inconvenience. Having minimal knowledge of computers, hacking, and how to go about such shady business, Alice had assumed Dominic could simply make an identity dead as effortlessly as he could make a new identity alive. She also expresses her deep gratitude for his willingness to help and a desire to pay him one way or another, prompting the insane man to comment on his beliefs in “a complex calculus of relationships.”

Next they discuss her return favor for him--a lawsuit of Genwyld. Melanie would have to do it, probably after the Pepsi lawsuit settled, since Alice wouldn’t have a legal identity anymore--and she really didn’t want another fake one to deal with. 

Dominic then encourages her (for the second time) to be what she wanted to be in life, prompting Alice to share what she already had in mind for her pseudo-suicide note. Alice also shares why now was the right time to take on her “true form”: (1) Jason Decker would no longer view Alice as a viable love interest, (2) her Alice Decker identity is probably wanted by the FBI anyways, and (3) once dead, Mel can sue Pepsi to make money and distinguish herself from (the criminal and supernatural) Alice Decker. Alice is at first surprised and then flattered when she learns that Dominic answers with his intention to install an overly secured doghouse onto his property--complete with snoot based biometrics

But moving in with Albert is not even a remote option (and after Keara and Mel on the housing list) until Jason’s curse and Violet’s multifaceted situation are more settled. Only then would Alice have accomplished her detour Ambition--and then… to just be a carefree dog who heals people--her ultimate dream.

From there they talk about Jason’s problems: still Crypt cursed, definitively wanted by the FBI, and his supernaturally enhanced gun locked up in some FBI evidence box. Problems that Alice wasn’t totally sure how to solve, including the Crypt curse. Problems Albert audibly wasn’t interested in getting involved in, as hacking the FBI is its own caliber. And of course the bonus problem of Jason’s developing attraction to Alice--which she hopes would be solved via her newest supernatural development. But it was nice to vent to someone about it other than Mel: "And then he got all grabby--fuck!"

"Gross."

"Exactly!"

The topic briefly becomes less standard business and more weird. Dominic offers her an assault rifle that looks like a plush toy and proceeds to warn that he has a bunch of animated teddy bears he rescued from slavery living in his basement cutting coke for dark web shipments.

Not knowing what to do with that information as a generally law-abiding mental health practitioner who genuinely doesn’t want to shoot anyone, despite her recent training from Jason, Alice switches the topic back: “Do you even like dogs?”

“Microchipping dogs are a plan for the government to be able to hack into the devices in your home in order to spy on you… but otherwise they're just fine." There's a long pause. "Also, my name isn't Albert. It's Dominic. Dominic West. If you tell anyone, I will have you killed.”

Alice brushes the threat off; she’s good at keeping things confidential. At the disclosure of Albert’s real name, she’s both honored and confused. "I … I think, like, my name is Allie. Or maybe Lanie--based on the latter half of Melanie. Which sounds better? I, uh, don't really know at the moment… ‘Mommy'. 'Wife.' ‘Pretty horse.’ Doggy." Alice hears Dominic gag a little at the wife mention.

"Lanie sounds better to me? Allie is tied to who you were before you were a dog. If I were to make a break like this I'd want fresh. Lanie is close to Melanie ,yes, but it's also its own name that doesn't start with the same sound."

"Fair enough. Mel got the first half, which is why I went for Lanie for about two months..." Before the curse.

"Sorry, that whole nuclear family scam is a way for the government to become able to track your location through your children via the microchips in their vaccines. Thankfully I know how to cleanse the vaccines so the microchips pop, but, still. No. That said, to get away from the dark truth of the world for a second… Marriage, especially to someone who's clearly holding onto you for them rather than helping to lift you up with them, is not for everyone. You have an important dream, and if people can't respect that your ambition outstrips their feelings for someone they've known for maybe half a year. Fuck em'. Obviously I have helped save this Jason guy's life a few times now, but he clearly has problems seeing the individual past his government enhanc--no no I said I'd stop with the dark truths. He has problems seeing past his hormones. If you make this break, probably a good idea to make the break clear."

Well, he saved Jason’s life once. But Alice wouldn’t argue that point; once is still immense. "He has helped. He's been supportive as I, uh, did all of this work... he's helped parent--" Fed the Violet sweets and junk food. Played with her a ton, which is the love language of a child. Guarded them at night while they slept. But not exactly the epitome of parenting nor a brainstorm buddy to find solutions like Dominic is. It had been a mixed bag. She'd been looking into supernatural schools, teaching Violet preschool lessons, cooking healthy meals (whenever they weren’t burnt), and familiarizing her with things that other girls her age would be interested in. "He's protected--" He has always wanted to protect her, but thus far they both got cursed... and then she coordinated his escape from the Texas hospital, and then rushing him home after the de-cursing ritual, and now the Crypt tear-down plan. Although the ritual situation was because he insisted on decursing Alice first; if their roles had been reversed, she would be the one more heavily cursed… Albert hears silence as Alice tries to sort these thoughts.

"He's done basic good uncle things and gotten into trouble. I bugged your house, remember?"

"Shit." Alice thought she had purged him from their devices when they switched out the old stuff with new stuff. So that was how he knew about the Network. “... Well, if I did 'break from him' it would only be to protect Violet." As a dog, Alice personally doesn't have anything to lose if he got bounty hunted or arrested. "His identity is tainted since they fingerprinted and face-profiled him when the Texas police and FBI got him. Which means as soon as he stops living in the Crypt and starts living in the real world, he's a wanted and now findable man. I can't keep custody of Violet in my true form--and if he can't either then… Keara and Mel need to take her in." A conclusion she’d honestly been putting off reaching until she could delay it no longer.

"Yeah, I know the FBI wants him, but I'm not scrubbing that shit. The heat from even a slight misstep there would follow me to my grave, and from what I've heard. Keara is decent? I don't know your clone, and the other clones… Yeesh, but if you've had cause to trust them, well, you're a braver soul than I."

"No, I'd never ask you for that--I'm trying to get my friends out of trouble..."

"Also this whole crypt business with both of you being cursed. Gonna bet it's because you had a hammer at your side when you needed a scalpel."

Her tone drops. "... I ... I can't say I was very useful on that job either, frankly." But Albert's Dominic's analogy reminds her of what Lilith had recently said. Lilith is undeniably a scalpel. "Mel and I have been talking regularly since I got cursed. The whole reason why we get along is because we love ourselves--and, like, if the other person is technically us then it's a logical conclusion that we'd love each other."

"Well it'd make sense why most people in this line of work have rather aggressive clones then."

"As I said before, my run of the Goshen job was not pretty for my colleagues." A pause. "Can you help me transfer Violet legally to Keara Star? She's a financially stable child psychologist with a perfect record. It could be an adoption--I just don't want Violet caught up in the foster care system." Jason wasn't going to like it, but what else could Alice do? Abbas's true identity is also tainted, and Violet living with him in the woods forever would definitively not prepare the child for normal, modern life.

"I can do so, it's not a problem to arrange that. She's a family friend, DSS and CPS should have no problems handing her to an accredited professional in the field as well. It's for the best, Violet's had enough of people breaking down doors in her life."

Alice sighs at that analogy as well. Technically her and Jason 'broke down a door' to find her in the first place. "When will I help you, Alber--Dominic? This really isn't fair." He certainly had mental health issues, but she can't and won't force treatment.

"I'm a needs rather than wants kind of guy, but. Someone else does need your help. The teddy bears. They were in what amounts to concentration camp conditions. If you can help them, that'll be a start. I have a sympathy towards those oppressed by fascists you see, and even as silly as they are. I can't let that go."

"... They have mental health issues ... Can they talk?"

"They cannot talk. That has been the problem. They do think, and can understand you though."

"Not even write? Wait, I can talk to them via telekinesis probably.”

"They're... also animated by a necromantic ritual that requires the heart of a cow. They may be able to write. I haven't tried that yet, this is why I ask about this stuff. Me and social shit... we just don't mix well. They did have a bunch of rather grevious wounds but thankfully I know a doctor, who though they healed it with some visually unconventional side effects, gave them their limbs and eyes back."

"So you have to animate them and that lasts for a period of time? I guess I'll be paying your highly secure house a visit after this..."

"Oh no, they're… permanently animated."

"Visually unconventional?" This is sounding like a horror film in the making--nothing she's not used to by now.

"They help me process orders from the dark web for work. Don't really eat so it's nice to have the help. And yes it's about as bad as you're imagining. A Dr. Rhea Allister. But I took what I could get for restoring limbs. I'd rather have a scary looking claw hand than no hand, and I asked them first. I also have a heart that can animate a stuffed animal from the same operation, but I have no capacity to control such creatures."

"I'll probably have to do a house call." Alice giggles. "Just tell them not to run away from me, or it might trigger me to, uh, like, chase."

"No, they're fine with animals, only scared of bears. Weird, I know, but there was a polar bear… and their oppressors were also bears. This was a weird job.” 

“Not at all what I would have expected. But then again, these days I have no idea what to expect."

"Also when I say it can animate the stuffed animal I mean. It also gives it the physical equivalent abilities of that stuffed animal. So, stick it in an elephant. It will be as strong as an elephant. And the size of the stuffed animal."

"That's incredible! I know a guy who can control animals--I bet that would be a nifty combination, so long as there's a way to protect the heart… One thing at a time though." In her voice, it's clear she's grinning now--a contrast from when they first started speaking about her faking her death. "First we have to kill Alice Decker." 

"We do, and that my friend, is the easy part." He then proceeds to rattle off a million ways that he has to drive the car to fake tire tracks, how he's going to abrade them with a sander in order to artificially age them and a million other ridiculously complex things.

"..." Alice listens, fascinated and slightly horrified by his level of intellect, detail, and insanity.

"One other thing--I got two houses in Salem Indiana. You want one of them for your fake dog identity thing? Both the owners are dead, wasn't me, but neither had any family so I figured it was better to allocate them somewhere than to have them go to the state. We both know they'd just turn it into a fluoride pump station to drug the poor people of Salem more than they already are." 

"Thanks for the offer, but let me get back to you on that. I'm still figuring out who I might be staying with once Alice Decker is dead--there's just a lot of variables in my life right now."

"Understood, just figured I'd give you a strings-free option of a place without any considerations to think that over until you've made that choice. I'll still offer one of them up as a location for you to turn into a safe house. Good to have fallbacks in case someone starts shit."

"... I appreciate you, Dominic. You know I do."

"As I'd hope you should. All the messes I clean up it'd be pretty crazy if I wasn't. Still, it's just keeping an eye out for things that other people gloss over, besides. I can only use one safe house in one county myself. If I keep anything extra I draw attention where it's not needed, whereas if I give one away I don't look as suspicious to the deep state. So give it to whomever if you decide not to use it, I can't have the legal scrutinizers looking my way."

"If you really want to offload one of the properties, give it to Keara. Her and Mel are looking to leave the Bay Area to get some distance from the Sleeping Sickness. We--uh, they have a half-paid off house in the nice side of Berkeley, and they don't exactly want to take on another mortgage if the phenomenon goes away--nor continue living out of an AirBnB in Solano County." A brief pause. “And I'll pay you for it over time."

"Alright, seems good enough. I'll change the name of the trust that I've put the house into to them and arrange for it to be inherited in the form of a step-up basis so that they only have to pay the property tax of the property's value when it was originally purchased. In the 80s. Should be nice and cheap, especially compared to Berkley."

"Indeed, a good change of pace--hopefully far from the blatantly dangerous supernatural.” Alice recalls that a kraken tentacle was also recently fought along the shore of San Francisco. Why was that place such a weirdness magnet? “Just let me know what I can give you for it." 

"If you find any tech shit that you don't have a special need for obviously slide that my way, and if I ever get hurt make sure to put in a word to the good doctor for me. Otherwise I make plenty of money. I've got a hundred G's just sitting in a safe SOMEWHERE in gold bars. I'll be honest. I don't ask for much because I don't need much and being able to freely call on services when I need them through you seems a valuable investment of my time. I can buy stuff, I can scam Logan Paul out of a hundred thousand dollars, I can write an expose decrying Elon Musk's soul harvesting Samurai. I cannot be there for myself when I'm hurt. That is what friends are for. Even I know that."

"I'll certainly keep an eye out for 'tech shit' and connect you to what you need when you need it as best I can. And of course, we'll put that teddy bear mental health check-up on the calendar too."

"Of course. You'll have my thanks for that. They're essentially holocaust survivors, and my entire crusade against the deep state is to help beings like them. Even if they aren't human."

"And mine is to heal the mind." The perfect pairing.

------

Kill or Otherwise

Several weeks after their last conversation, Edgar Stokes gets a phone call. The profile picture shows a paw print, and the name of the contact is "Allie (Ms. Shrink)."

The line picks up on the fourth ring. "Don't recall giving out these digits." A young man's voice this time.

"Edgar?"

"Sure. What's up doc?"

"I would like to cash in on that favor--specifically, I have a 'god' for you to kill or otherwise humble."

"Alright - a deal's a deal. What can you tell me?"

Alice sighs both in relief and at the delayed realization that Edgar has probably skin crawled out of the old Asian man and into a young man, who is probably now dead--unless this is the original Edgar Stokes? Who knows... 

"There are haunted extradimensional locations across the world called crypts which are set up by and house powerful entities called Crypt Keepers. These locations can have extensive interiors which are decrepit versions of real places or--according to Mark Collins who went on a job in one of the Crypts--possibly reflections of someone's subconscious?" Alice seems unsure about that last part. 

"These Keepers are sapient and powerful. According to Bu Fang, their purpose is to protect 'crypt treasures' and punish trespassers. Bu and Mark's experience with a Keeper involved the Keeper putting them through 'contrived challenges' which resulted in them temporarily losing some of their abilities. It also tried or wanted to turn them into something like itself. I had a different but similar interaction with what I believe is the Keeper of the newer Detroit Crypt. Five months ago, a colleague and I entered that Crypt with the task of clearing out and de-cursing the place, but that Keeper defeated us in combat. However, instead of killing us, she cursed us--which geographically tied us to the Crypt at risk of death if we strayed from it for too many days and stops most of the Crypt creatures from attacking us--as we essentially became one of them. I recognize that becoming cursed as opposed to dead... was an act of mercy."

"We've been calling the Detroit Crypt Keeper a 'siren' because she uses sound combined with a haunted version of the things you cherish--like the voices of loved ones--to wear down your mind. Specifically, she sings and plays a supernatural violin. She also uses sound to control mobs of sentient mannequins in the Detroit Crypt. When my colleague and I first fought her, she was supported by a doppelganger as well who took the form of a mutual friend--although we haven't seen the doppelganger again after months of living there."

"We recently confronted her again--or, like, a version of her--a few days ago when Lilith helped me complete a de-cursing ritual. At the end of the ritual, that same creature manifested, rapidly aged the room by, like, 200 years, and then attacked everyone's minds. But that wasn't the real thing because a single strike to her violin sent her away. While briefly fighting her, though, she somehow sent ghosts to my apartment in Detroit to try to choke my three-year-old daughter to death. Violet, she--while living in the Detroit Crypt, my colleague and I found her abandoned and living in filth in a "room" accessible by a hallway of interdimensional doors that I believe connects all of the Crypt locations. She's demon-possessed, which is why I had asked if you knew anyone who could hold down and deal with the incorporeal." She sighs. 

"Anyways, I don't want to try to complete the de-cursing ritual for my colleague because if we summon her again in that way then she might again attack my daughter. In fact, it's entirely possible that the siren could attack my daughter, who also has ties to the Crypt through her demon, at any point. So now my goal is to kill or otherwise humble the siren--the Crypt Keeper--so that she's no longer a threat to Violet and my colleague--and possibly the location itself--becomes decursed." There is a long pause. "I have a bit more to explain, but first, do you have any questions?"

"Chicago, eh? Great - when should I leave?"

Alice is taken aback by the lack of questions, evident by a sharp inhale. "... Lilith, who I believe you're familiar with, will be joining you because she has a personal interest in curses, as well as a few others. I need to make a few more calls to coordinate and then I'll let you know the exact meeting time and location--probably in a few weeks." A pause. "On a related note, may I have the name of the person you know who can deal with ghosts? I'd like to reach out to see what they can and would be willing to do. I may try to hire them to help me protect Violet during this job--and possibly tame a demon." 

"Oh yeah - Grace Cyanide is what she calls herself. Tell her Spookums sent you, she should be cool. As for the rest, yeah let me know: I'll be taking the scenic route, so give me 12 hours."

Alice stifles a laugh as 'Spookums' which immediately leads to embarrassment. "I-I will, thanks." She nods. "I've, uh, been taking the scenic route lately too--I understand. We'll be in touch, and, thank you." Even if it's repayment, she is grateful. The call ends.

-------

Isolating

Abbas will lead Mel through the Manistee National Forest, a large dense forest with tons of cover and few trails/passerbys. He walks carefully behind Mel, covering her tracks and showing her how to as well. Each step may crumble leaves and leave a footprint, bending plants and stems. He navigates slowly, telling her which direction. Occasionally she may hear a yelp of an animal, perhaps see birds and owls atop trees watching the two transverse. Abbas seems considerably more relaxed compared to when he was in the city. There’s a sense of... isolation yet calmness that can't be felt within human boundaries--one of nature. The forest smell is overwhelming, yet it’s soft and gentle. She can smell if an animal has marked its territory here or not and the likes. 

After a bit, she will see what seems to be a small, slightly crude hut. It's not amazing nor large, enough for at most 1-2 people. Even two full-grown people would be pushing it. It’s made with scraps of wood and leaves. Plants and stems abound as well, making it blend in with the surrounding. Even a wasp nest is near it. 

"Hold your breath for 10-30 seconds while walking by. The wasp only senses you through your breathing. It's a great natural deterrent to most people."

With slightly keener eyes, Alice sees some of the branches nearby are actually rope, appearing to be placed to swing or maybe climb rapidly. On the other side of the clearing is a person-sized hole, perhaps to hide? And a bit further away is a trap door covered in leaves and vegetation.

She follows the instructions. Her exposure to nature is the occasional hike in the Bay Area and that doesn't compare to this. The smells distract her as she tries to walk the right way--but not a bad distraction. So many new scents! She subtly wants to know what exactly they are and where they lead. 

"Abbas ... you're incredible," Alice telepathically says via an AirPod (not connected to any phone) that she offered him before they left civilization. Thanks to her power, they can talk without making noise that anyone else can hear. "And you've been here for months..." she adds with awe. "Should we hide inside, or is it okay to hang around out here?"

Suddenly a small black squirrel scampers down the trunk of a nearby tree. Alice's eyes lock onto it and it looks back at her, momentarily unsure. Then the Pathetic woman full-body lunges for it with a big wide-eyed grin, an expression Abbas probably hasn't seen on Alice before. The squirrel swiftly rushes up the tree and branch-hops away. And Alice begins to (audibly) laugh--all-in laughter to the point that she starts to get teary-eyed and she's clutching her side. Their ‘call’ ends.

Abbas coughs, thinking to himself, that... was oddly doglike, huh, before he lets off a small chuckle as well. Shaken by the random sight. "You're an odd one Mel, truly."

"I'm an odd one?" She replies audibly, wiping her eyes clear as she calms down. Then she re-establishes the telepathic line, Abbas having only to press on his AirPod to accept it.

Answering her earlier question, Abbas says, "We can go in. Follow my steps precisely." He walks carefully avoiding piles of leaves and certain low berry bushes on the ground--stuff that blends in--leading her to the hut. He opens the door, and she sees spider webs, seemingly almost as if someone hadn't cleaned them out. Abbas goes inside and mumbles softly, "Hey there buddy, how's it been. I brought some snacks, kept the house guarded, yes? Sorry to break your web again." He places dead flies onto the web. Leading her in, it's kinda comfy though barren. Hung up on the walls are arrows and what seems to be dried animal leather. A stack of canned goods sits in a corner. The ground is covered in a soft pelt that’s warm and fuzzy, soft and nice. Light in the place seems to be lacking, and then Abbas pulls up the pelt. Underneath is a small opening from which he takes out some animal fat candles and lights one up. 

The interior of the hut is covered in dried mud, isolating any smell from the outside. There are some wooden racks with tendons strewn on them, creating a mesh-like net. Next to it on the ground is a large jar of salt and rocks, three packages of water bottles, and two jugs of water. Lastly, there is a vat sitting next to which appears to be a dried out leaf bowl.

"Welcome to my hideout."

Alice admires the spiderweb door trap and then the rest of the details of the interior. "I bet Violet really loved it out here..." she said. Abbas had been babysitting whenever Alice needed it, since Jason couldn't while in his amphibious form. She sets down a small brown leather bag and then crouches down to dig through it, looking for something. It was quite cramped in there for two full adults… She pulls out a plain black dog collar with no tags and snaps it on. As she does, her human form turns to silver dust that dissipates nearly instantly, and all that remains is a pure white 45 lb Samoyed. "That's better--now there's more space," Abbas hears in his head. 

Abbas looks absolutely flabbergasted. Bewildered, confused, just the look of bamboozlement. "I, wha, huh, wha???" He stumbles over his words absolutely confused.

"Now I take up less space?" Alice clarifies, the dog looking over at him with her head tilted slightly to one side, confused.

Abbas looks at her for a moment, closes his eyes, and does the confused head shake as he says, "You know what... not the weirdest thing, not even close. Just, uhm... unexpected to say the least but yea, you most certainly take up less... space? Wait... are you? a Samoyed?! OMG YOU'RE FLUFFY, is your tracking better? Can you be stronger? How strong is your bite? How fast can you run?! Aside from that... do ... mark your territory?"

Alice was not prepared for this level of excitement. "Y-yes?" That covered most of the questions. "I don't, like, know?" That covered most of the rest of the questions. This being her first transformation, she really had no idea. And for the final one: "Don't be vulgar." The now seated dog looks (and sounds) annoyed now as it turns away from him, Alice's voice continuing. "Like, I'm obviously going to go to the bathroom at some point during my stay here, but I'm still civil--I'll go outside of the camp."

"Ah, nono, I meant the pheromones gland, thingy, whatever. I think it's a fully valid question, haha. Nevertheless, only reason I'm asking is cause the wolves here are a bit territorial and annoying. It took two months of me feeding them to stop harassing me." 

"Well, I'm 100% dog at the moment, so, like, yes?" Alice's tone switches to slightly embarrassed. "I'll, uh, see what I can do..." 

Abbas sighs. "Feel free to make yourself as home as you can. It's only the bare minimum, but I can see if I could buy any toys or anything for you. There's a trapdoor I built out there that leads into a small ditch in the ground for about three people and a child. It has enough resources to bunker down for about four months before needing to go out again. Any questions, don't hesitate," after which he starts going around checking on the walls. She’ll notice where he checks are lines of salt. There are several holy crosses engraved on the mud wall. He also switches out some hanging red talisman, places some incense on the ground (unlit), and changees out what seems to be spoiled garlic with new ones. Then he begins placing some silver strings where the ceiling meets the wall, leaving them dangling.

At the invitation to make herself at home, the dog moves over to the fluffiest looking spot on the animal pelt and lays down, rolling onto her back, tail wagging slowly. "Damn--this is nice." Being a dog finally, the feel of the fur (both her own and the pelt). The pelt smells absolutely amazing too.

Then Alice listens to the whole explanation, true Abbas protection and hospitality, while semi-watching him ensure the occult safety of the space. It's a very different view, being both upside down and so close to the floor. Once he's done, she rolls upright to be laying down and answers, "Toys won’t be necessary..." She’s not ready for that particular aspect of amusing doghood, although just hanging in Abbas's natural habitat while in her true formis shaping up to be extremely amusing already. "I'm just glad I have a place to hunker down now that I'm no longer tied to the Crypt and about to kill off the 'Alice Decker' identity." 

"What" Abbas stops what he is doing, turns around, and looks at her before realizing, "oh… Oh... I see... hmmm. What's the plan then after?" 

The dog looks back at Abbas, head once again tilted to one side. "Did... I never, like, tell you why I go on these jobs? Uh, it's not to be 'Alice Decker,' mother of Violet who's demon possessed and wife of Jason Decker who's cursed..." Keara and Mel knew. Jason knew, even if he was having trouble coming to terms with it. Shit--even Iryna, Theo, and Jason Valent knew since they mirrored her screening question back at her. But had she forgotten to tell Abbas after all this time? 

"Oh... well... I-I don't believe so?" Abbas stumbles over his words. "We never had really, like, sat down and had a chat about that on your end, it was... well, mostly on my end?" He picks up a jumping spider from seemingly nowhere and lets it crawl over his arm as he softly pats its head.

"No wonder you were so surprised!" Abbas hears in his head followed by more laughter, which again cuts off the telepathic line. The dog rolls over onto her back, tail wagging rapidly, panting, and pawing at her snoot with eyes closed--the canine equivalent of rofl. Is Alice less serious or maybe just happier in this new form of hers? Then she gets up and paws the air in his direction, calling him once more. "Take a seat, get comfy!" There's clearly a smile in her voice. The command is a bit ironic given that Abbas is in his own home. 

Abbas looks around for a few seconds longer, making sure everything is in place, before he takes a seat on the pelt. His eyes are filled with curiosity, and he remains silent in fear of possibly interrupting.

The woman who is not currently a woman begins to explain, the dog looking back at Abbas, all the while taking deep breaths.

"I wasn't always this confident around people, like, as a person among them. For seven years, from first grade to high school, I was consistently the target of bullies because I was socially awkward, smaller and thinner than everyone else around me, and couldn't eat normal food. I might have fared better if I tried to fade into the background, like you do, and find my own safe space to exist in alone..." She looks around the small hut, her keen eyesight revealing many details despite the humble candle light, and then back at Abbas and his pet spider. Well, he’s not fully alone. "But I desperately wanted to fit in--and children, like adults, can smell desperation." Her ears go back and her head droops a bit. "Seven years of torture and rejection could have sent me down a dark path if I didn't have loving parents and a good child therapist. Even when I figured out the rules of social engagement in early high school and began to 'play the game' to achieve popularity, I felt like I had to sacrifice being my real self, faking interest in things I genuinely couldn't care less about to connect with others. This whole time, while rejected and then accepted, I did have best friends. My dad bred and trained German Shepherds as a hobby since before I was born. Dogs are so interesting, socially accepted in modern and ancient societies despite being outsiders. In fact, in some situations they are not only accepted--they are the ones willing and capable to do things that humans aren't, whether for good or evil: bomb dogs, eye-seeing dogs, therapy dogs. They don't judge people, and they are not harshly judged. All they ask for in return is safety and affection. I've always admired them, even their hilarious quirks. They fully live in the present; they are selfless and loyal... It would be a lie to say becoming a therapy dog has been my goal from the beginning, since I signed the Contract in blood. I think, like, it took me several months to be fully honest with myself. But when Mel--when my clone came along, I realized that this aspiration was fully possible. Mel would take my place in Keara's--my best friend's life, ensuring that nothing substantially changed for her. She still has human companionship--someone who is genuinely myself aside from one small thing. The bills are paid, our mundane human clients are being treated. And I ... like, I get to become who I've always wanted to become--who I really am." Her tail starts to wag. "And do what I've always wanted to do: a dog that supernaturally treats the mental illnesses of children." 

"I think that's a pretty honorable cause..." Abbas replies, "with a wonderful reason as well and method of achieving it. I wonder what I should be doing myself nowadays... Especially as everyone seems to be moving forward and I'm... stuck in the past. Unwilling to let go of memories.'' Abbas sits down with one of his knees to his chest. "I still hold much anger and even phobia in regards to monsters. Beings such as the demon, they look at us as nothing less than mere insects of meals. Things for them to toy with. Some have... a more mild temperament but the look in their eyes are the same. Disdain, nonchalance, arrogance, annoyance. Yet, as I discover more of myself, even though I enjoy the hunt, it's weighing on me, if what I'm doing is actually right. My own blood feels heavy as I realize who my mother truly was nowadays. I wonder if one day I'll break down and lose my mind in this process." Amongst Abbas's soft slow voice, his expression reveals one of exhaustion despite his tall stature and his broad shoulders, his muscular arms used to wrestling and moving amongst the forest. There are signs of gray hair on his head, some wrinkles on his face, and hints of weariness in his eyes. 

Seated, the dog listens patiently. At the mention of the phobia, she becomes alert. "Abbas… are you willing to let me heal your phobia?" She knew of his compulsion but not of his phobia.

Abbas shakes his head no. "It keeps me on my toes. Perhaps one day, but today is not the day..." 

"Very well." It is a burden he chooses to bear. "I will always be your friend, you know that." 

Abbas gets up. "Probably enough sappy talk on my end. Still, uh, not used to this all, haha, well, uh, any questions about the surrounding?"

She respects the topic switch. "Not about the surroundings, but I do have two other questions... First, what are you going to do about the Nain?" The dog lies down, getting more comfortable. 

"I... honestly don't know. Usually it appears on New Years, and it hasn’t appeared since then. I might need to go read into it. All I know is that it’s a creature of the Lunar New Year and is scared of red and explosives/gunpowder. That's why I keep firecrackers on me at all times now,” he says as he takes out a small roll of the mouse firecracker.

"I see." The dog sniffs the air in the direction of the firecracker. Explosives smell very distinct. "And what are you going to do about the FBI?" 

Abbas goes silent. "Well... once the Crypt is done, I guess I’ll go back into hiding. Continue my objective of staying hidden and hunting alone. I can feel my presence waning more these days, as if I will vanish into the air itself if I don't try to focus. It’s not like I had much of a real life going anyways." 

"Violet will always need her uncle," Alice replies quietly. "Whether she goes to a supernatural boarding school or lives with Keara and Mel until Jason clears his own identity, if it's all the same to you... You're welcome to be nearby for the rest of her life."

"Mmm... we... shall see. If the FBI comes, I’d rather take them with me and vanish off the face of the planet rather than involve the others..."

"I doubt they'll arrest every person you interact with, especially if your interactions with her are kept subtle… But the choice is yours."

"I... will need to think about it. It's been very relaxing, just taking care of her, to say the least. Perhaps if the demon vanishes, I will become the same being for her if she seeks a guardian..." Abbas gives a self-deprecating chuckle, one filled with regret.

"Taming or otherwise dealing with the demon is certainly on my list of things to do." Then the dog sighs. "It's a long to-do list..." The weight of her whole, small, social world on this white fluffy Samoyed's shoulders.

Abbas sighs with her. "You have quite a long list indeed. If you need any help, well, I’ll be around. Somewhere."

"I know. For now, just watching over Violet when we need it is more than enough. And then you'll be providing support on the Crypt job, which I'm still planning. It's scheduled to happen in a little over two weeks, on a Monday. That's when everyone else is free." A pause. "To be honest, just having a place to hang out away from Jason and even Violet--but not too far away ... I really appreciate this." 

Abbas gives her one of his rare smiles before thinking about the Crypt a little. "Speaking of... which... should I be... uh, worried about anything in regards to who’s coming to the Crypt? if they're monstrous or can become one, I’d enjoy a bit of a warning to prepare myself mentally, you know."

"..." She hadn't thought that through. "Um, yeah, a Contractor who's essentially a skincrawler." Does that count as 'monstrous'? It does to her. 

"A SKINCRAWLER?!" Abbas looks at her with eyes wide open filled with disbelief, though he didn't exactly yell, the pure shock and disbelief in his voice was enough to shake her slightly as Abbas jaw drops open "You had the audacity to befriend a skincrawler?! I will be honest, I’m kinda shocked you’re alive... Those witches are... not fun."

The dog looks back blankly, blinking in surprise. "He's, uh, relatively sane and was quite respectful when we met for several days to address his mental health problems. Runs his own Contractor-only network, like me, but it's more of an official union. And, like, Bu Fang has worked with him on jobs before?" By her questioning tone, she's unsure of whether any of this is persuading Abbas that this person is trustworthy. "I, like, didn't know he was a skincrawler before I met him..." She adds softly. Frankly, that revelation caught her off guard too. 

"He? I'm confused now... Did he use a powder or anything? Any kind of poison?" Abbas scratches his head as he stumbles over his words a little.

"He's one of us. And I have no idea--I didn't watch him do it..." At this point, Alice gets a self-addressed mental warning to shut up due to the patient-client confidentiality training she has deeply internally ingrained. 

Abbas sits down again with a thinking expression "I mean... if it's a he, it might be a warlock... maybe he's something else? I really hope so." Abbas looks up and turns around to you, grabbing with a serious expression as he looks directly into your eyes after a bit of hesitation, he starts speaking sternly "if you ever meet a real skinwalker, run, they aren’t reasonable and can use corpse powder and poison. They curse people they see and are always angsty. Never trust them. You'll know if they're a real skinwalker, as they’re usually animalistic, not like you, more... feral. They’re cunning like a fox, sly like a snake, they trick you like a coyote and their very existence is a bad omen. The very ground they walk on is filled with deceit and lies. You could think you killed one only to have it appear again to grab you from behind as the tree. NEVER trust one. They will seek a way to possess your body and take over your life, stealing your skin and leaving your corpse behind for their magic."

"O-okay." Upon hearing the full warning, her ears are back and her head slinks down. "I'll be careful." A pause. "Do you, like, think you can work with him then?"

"I'll... try my best to."

"Alternatively, you can stay with Terry, me, and Violet, to protect us if the Crypt Keeper sends something after us--that would be helpful too." Really, Alice preferred that. Her plan for Abbas’s involvement, if he were to enter the Crypt, would be to identify the number of monsters on the other side of the doors and then leave them to the rest of the team--something he’d undoubtedly have difficulty doing due to his monster hunting compulsion. The better plan would be for him not to enter the Crypt at all.

"I'll need to see with my own eyes first, this person."

"He, like, looks like a normal person..." The dog shutters and keeps the rest of the details to herself. "We'll figure it out.” She’d try to persuade him further later; she had time. “Anyways, let me know how I might be able to help with the Nain. I know several people who could do some digging on it after you do the initial research..." Then dog-Alice seems to grin, which isn't hard to do given her breed. "If we manage to tame the demon, maybe we could do the same for the Nain?" 

"That would be quite a thing, taming an immortal beast of myth... If so, well... you can keep it. It would be a great assistant to you. But for the Nain, please, if you know anyone with a wide expanse of knowledge in myths, monsters, and the likes, I’d like to ask them if there are any cases of the Nian appearing outside of New Years and any possible ecology of it."

The dog nods. "I'll pass that along and let you know what I hear back." A pause. "Speaking of which, uh, would you like to be screened into the Network?" 

Abbas shakes his head no. "It puts me at risk of being discovered, I can't trust having even just my name or face or even a hint of my existence too widespread. I'm sorry. I’m fully content with you, Jason, Violet, and a few others knowing though."

"No need to apologize--I figured that would be the case. Just wanted to ask to not assume." A pause. "Actually, on the topic of information gathering..." Alice then describes Theo's blood-consuming condition and how it came about. "... Maybe while you're looking into the Nain you could also do some research on this?" 

"Hmm, I’ll look into it..." Abbas frowns at the idea of possibly vampires spreading, especially if it's an illness. "Take this if it's someone you know." Abbas takes out of his bag a cross made of silver, then one made of gold, then one made of iron, as well as a wooden one with a sharp point at the end--looks like a stake but in the shape of a cross too. "I'd give garlic, prayer beads, and more but... well, I don't have them on me right now. It’s just in case." 

"He's not a full on vampire--doesn't mind sunlight, I mean." She looks at all of the anti-vampire stuff. "But, thank you." Then her backpack glows a bit at the top as it unzips and each item slowly floats in, the dog's eyes also glowing all the while. Then she puts her head down over one paw and is starting to look rather sleepy, blinking slowly and looking at nothing in particular.

Abbas gives a slight chuckle before the large-eyed spider parts his hair near his forehead and jumps down into his palm. "Feel free to sleep. I’ll need to think about what you told me real quick." After a while, Abbas will take out a notepad and write down some notes on it before he slowly exits the hut and vanishes, letting the dog sleep peacefully. Stepping out into the open air, he takes a deep sigh and his eyes sharpen as he decides to go hunt off those wolves.

On the notepad is the following:

“There are countless types of vampire myths & stories from all over the world. With the details of this one, there are several folk remedy cures - mainly involving fasting & privation IF the person in question has not given in to the curse & consumed human blood yet If they have drank the blood of others, then they are a vampire now & decapitation is said to work well, then burn the body & head separately on two different pyres, & scatter the ashes."

Under the cover of nightfall, man and dog exit the hiding place to discover the answers to Abbas's slew of dog-related questions.

It is a little over a day since Alice returned to Detroit from her last Contract. As Jason and Violet exit the local waffle house, a place that has come to know them on a first-name basis, Jason finally receives a phone call from Alice. The caller ID shows a photo of the head of a white, fluffy dog--a departure from the typical black paw print icon. 

Jason answers the phone. "Hey." He holds the phone like a normal call. 

"Hey Jason. Can we, like, go for a walk or something--not near the crypt? We have a couple of things to talk through." She sounds a little nervous. "Abbas can watch Violet..." 

"Nugget and I are just leaving the Waffle House. Where are you two? We can meet up."

"We're heading over from one of his hideouts. We'll be in the area in about, uh, twenty minutes. How about we do the swap at the parking lot of that place where we went hiking with Theo?" 

"Alright. We'll see you guys there." Jason 'hangs up' and straps Violet into her car seat. "Want to hang out with Uncle Abbas for a little bit?" he asks her. "Yes, Daddy!"

About thirty minutes later, a black vintage Beetle with tinted windows pulls into the mostly empty parking lot of Rouge Park, right beside Jason's truck. The parking job is flawless. The driver's side door opens and for about a full two minutes Abbas (in his typical almost-fully-covering outfit complete with sunglasses, cap, bulky jacket, and medical face mask) makes an appearance. At least the face mask is a bit more normal now given Ghoul Fever. He’s also wearing an AirPod in one ear.

Violet, who was jumping around in the truck bed to try to make the vehicle bounce a little (with Daddy's help), squeals with excitement the moment she sees Abbas and jumps out the open back into Jason's arms before rushing over to him. They embrace for a moment--and Jason might catch Abbas secretly slipping the little girl a (real) bug snack. Abbas looks at Jason and nods a silent hello.

After setting Violet down on the ground, Jason leans his back against the truck. "Quite giving her bugs, dude. It's bad enough you got her hooked on food that looks like bugs." His voice is flat and arms are crossed. Jason's wearing his usual outfit of a button-up shirt and jeans. He's also wearing a light jacket due to chills from being away from the crypt for so long. For those that know to/where to look, there is a slight bulge under his left armpit.

"I didn't make up maggot rice," Abbas replies with a slight smile. "Plus it's a good source of protein." He keeps to himself that they aren't exactly eating hot dogs and mac n cheese when Violet stays with him. Then the peculiar adoptive uncle opens the backseat door to help Violet get situated in the car seat.

There's a few other people in the parking lot at the moment: two teenage boys hanging out and vaping on the other side of the lot and a middle-aged couple who had pulled in a row over and are now doing stretches beside their SUV. "Might want to open the door for Alice," Abbas adds quietly after he shuts Violet's door. 

With a shrug and a raised eyebrow, Jason opens the passenger door.

A white fluffy dog unsquishes from being on the floor of the passenger side, crawling up to the chair and then hopping out of the car. It wears a black collar and holds a neatly folded up black leash in its mouth. As the dog looks up at him, ears back and tail down, visibly nervous, Jason gets a 'phone call.'

Jason ‘answers’ his phone. "Totally not weird," are the first words of the call.

"Doggy!" Violet squeals in excitement, now a bit frustrated that she's strapped in. 

"You can play with her later," Abbas replies as he gets situated in the driver's seat (to pretend he's driving) and shuts his door. 

"Nice to see you too," Alice's voice answers. "Probably should take the leash so this looks a bit more normal."

"Be good for Uncle Abbas now, Nugget. We'll play later." He says to the young girl as he connects the leash to his 'wife's' collar. Into the phone, he replies, "So many jokes ... so little time," with a grin.

"Okay Daddy!" 

"Oh," Abbas adds before Jason shuts the passenger door, "use these." He opens the glovebox to reveal a pair of AirPods in a Ziplock bag.

In response to the comment, the dog shakes its head disapprovingly as Alice scoffs. "I missed you too, Pain in the Ass--although, on the topic of jokes..." She looks away from Jason. "I, uh, apologize for, like, yelling at you in the doctor's office. We should have had that conversation in a different way, at a different time."  The dog's body language is still visibly uncomfortable. 

Jason takes the AirPods and places them in his ears, "Don't worry about it. I deserved it, I'm sorry too. Also sorry in advance for this." After he gets everything in its proper place he takes the end of the leash and not being able to help himself he says out loud, "C'mon girl. Wanna go for walkies?" 

"..." The dog looks back at Jason so dryly. Then she lurches forward and chomps on the leash, a single bite immediately cutting it clean through like a sharp blade. "I am going for a walk." Alice is visibly and audibly annoyed. She moves a few feet away and then looks back at him. "Would you care to join me?" A nearby sign at the start of the path indicates that dogs must be on leashes in public spaces, with a fine for being caught of up to $10,000 and a misdemeanor. On the upside, however, she looks less nervous now.

Meanwhile, the babysitter and child drive away. 

"Well, hold on, I have to fix this fucking leash now." He moves to the dog and then leans down to half-ass tie the leash around the collar, at least to make it appear it's connected. 

As they begin on the path, the fit, middle-aged Korean couple also approaches. "Awe, what a sweet dog!" The woman in expensive-looking hiking attire (complete with a wide-brimmed sun hat, tinted sunglasses, and daypack) declares. She kneels down a few feet away from Alice, getting to the dog's level and reaching out a hand for sniffing. "Samoyed, right? May I?" 

Immediately Jason (only) hears Alice say plainly, "No, she may not." The dog doesn't move towards the woman, although her nose is indeed sniffing in her direction. The man, also wearing expensive hiking attire and daypack, sighs at the additional delay but then looks to the overcast sky and says nothing. 

"Sorry, she's not great with strangers." He says to the woman. In the secret phone call he tells Alice, "You're a dog now, better get used to the attention."

Jason hears Alice sigh. "I know... it's just that this is, like, my second time ever and no one's pet me before--like, uh ... yeah." She snorts.

The woman nods understandingly and stands up. "Well, have a lovely walk." Her and her husband exchange a knowing glance and then both start jogging down the path, side by side, as though they've done it a thousand times. 

"Thanks, enjoy your jog." He says to the leaving couple. Turning his attention back to Alice, "Well, that's what people do with dogs. Everyone always has to pet them. Couldn't you have become like a therapy badger or something?" 

Alice's tone becomes more formal as they start walking. She glances up at Jason. The angle is really weird; as a human she's shorter than him, but not that short. "I appreciate your concern, and I’m aware that people like to pet dogs. I'm just going to take this at my own pace, okay? Thank you for respecting that."

"Do what you need to do." Jason's tone has been fairly flat the entire conversation.

"I am." The two walk quietly for a bit in a heavy silence. The trail is fairly empty. The air is damp and cool. Finally, Alice continues. "So, uh, thank you for letting me go first, like, with the de-cursing ritual. As you probably heard, it was hell--but if I had gotten what I wanted and you went first, then I'd be in your ... situation. So, really, thank you Jason--and I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just doing what I promised to do. If something went wrong, who would pick up the pieces? I'm expendable." He continues walking.

The dog stops, immediately creating tension in the leash, and growls a little at him. "You are absolutely not--stop giving me that bullshit!"

Jason stops also, his face turning into a cowl of anger. Luckily there aren't others on the trail at the moment and their conversion can't be heard anyway. For the first time since this conversation started, emotion is creeping into his voice. 

"I AM! I have one set of skills, and that's done fuck all so far! Texas showed me that I need you to get me out of problems. I can't even do anything for this curse shit! You've spent all this time planning and making contacts and what I have done? Sit on your fucking shoulder saying 'ribbit'! I tried making a family together, and with who!? A woman who's emotionally distant with everyone, but wants to be a fucking therapy DOG, and a little girl that we STOLE and is possessed by a demon! FUCK!" 

The dog's eyes glow silver, as does the collar, and it snaps off. All within a few seconds, the dog is replaced with a silver mist that spreads upward to form a familiar humanoid shape. Suddenly the woman that Jason knows as Alice Decker stands before him in her typical fashionable monotone attire. She holds the collar that's still attached to the leash Jason's holding, gripping the wedding ring on it tightly. "You want me to be less 'emotionally distant,' Mr. Decker?" She replies sharply (aloud), looking him in the eyes. "FINE! If you really want to know what the source of all of your problems are, it's me! If I had been better at combat, I might have been fucking useful in the Crypt instead of someone you felt you had to constantly protect. If I had been better at first aid, I might have not caused you to bleed out more on the Texas job after your arm got blown off, which then caused you to pass out. If I wasn't fuckin asexual, maybe we could have been a real couple and not a fake one. And I'm the one who stole the demon-possessed child, without even asking you--without giving you a choice! I'm the one who's RUINED YOUR LIFE and now I'm doing everything I can to make it right but it CLEARLY HASN'T BEEN ENOUGH! You think I'm constantly doing all of this shit--constantly trying so fuckin hard--because of charity? I threw us into hell--I'm SORRY--I-I'm ..." She stands there stiffly, fists clenched, looking down at the ground. Based on the smells of the woods, someone is approaching around the path, but she isn't done yet. However, her speech is slowing down and getting quieter, and her breathing irregular. "I didn't--like, I wasn't trying to... I just ..." Tears form. "Like, you didn't deserve any of this--I just ... keep messing up your life, no matter what I do--no matter how hard I try..." She turns around, not wanting to face him, crouches down, and starts to cry. 

"Then why!? If it was so fucking horrible, then why keep it going!?" As Jason's anger becomes an actual, tangible, argument a random jogger rounds the corner.

The jogger does his best to just stay as far to his lane as he can, not looking at the enraged 'couple'. Unfortunately Jason is in a rare rage. "What the fuck, dude!? Can't you see we're talking here!?" If the jogger could shrivel up into a ball, he would.

"Why wouldn't you fucking talk to me!? If everything was so bad, WHY!? I rolled with the punches, tried my best to make all this fucked up shit work, and for what!? And NOW you tell me that you did this out of what, fucking GUILT!?" 

Alice's crying slows down until there's silence. Then she takes in a few slow, deep breaths. "I-I'm ... I'm just trying to make it right," she whispers through the AirPods. "Because ... you deserve better and, like..." She stands up, wiping her eyes (which immediately get re-watery) with the back of her gloved hands, and faces him to say out loud: "... I love you." Her expression is incredibly mixed--regret, pain, sorrow, and affection all in one. She looks down at the ground. "I, like... I don't know what I'm doing... and I'm really sorry." 

Jason takes a moment to try and calm himself also. He's angry, but the rage is subsiding. "How can you love me? What does that even mean to you?"

Still avoiding eye contact, wiping her eyes again, and sniffling--a visible mess--Alice thinks about it for a moment. It doesn't take long for her to form a coherent answer. "I love you like I love Keara. I … I want to be with you for the rest of your life as your sister and best friend." Jason might notice that her face does not get more red, on top of the redness from crying, as she quietly answers. "But I-I don't think... like, that that's going to be enough for you... and I understand..."  She offers him the dog collar while wordlessly adding, "It's ... not your fault." 

"It could be, maybe... I don't know anymore." Without the adrenaline from his rage, he's beginning to look much paler and his legs are shaky. If Alice was looking at him she’d see that he's looking past her. "I… can… try better... Hannah?" With the last statement, Jason falls to the ground.

Until Jason enters the Crypt, his life is a blur of familiar and foreign sounds and scenes.

Alice calling out his name and scooping up his aching head off the ground, brushing the dirt off of his face. Someone helping her get him up with urgent conversation about some health condition. "I just need to get him home," Alice insists. A seemingly eternal walk with a stranger on each side of him to the parking lot. Violet calling out "Daddy" at first excitedly and then confused when Jason doesn’t respond the way she expected. That is followed by "Mommy!" and Alice replying warmly. Abbas helping Jason get into the passenger side of the car. A car ride of urban and suburban scenes passing by. Finally, Abbas helping him get to the back door of their his Crypt home. 

The door opens, and the semi-conscious ex-military man stumbles in, feeling immediate relief. It's more than restoration back to his normal self; it's the damn best he's ever felt in his life--emotional turmoil aside.

As Jason stands there, he hears a thud on the door. He turns to pursue his rescuer yet again. Rushing out of the Crypt, he yells, "We're not done yet!" He barely notices one of Abbas's smaller hunting knives pining a small folded up note to the backdoor, instead focusing on the gate that just clicked shut. As soon he reaches it, however, his vitality is taken away as if hit by a semi. "Fuck..." He goes down like a sack again, just as Abbas re-opens the gate (bonking Jason on the head) to make sure Jason is okay…

After his little siesta, Jason awakes just inside the doorway of the Crypt once more. He feels much better again but decides it's best not to leave for a while longer. After a few moments of gathering his thoughts, he remembers the note. He pokes out of the Crypt for a brief moment, just long enough to pull the knife out of the door and take the note.

The note is in Alice's slightly-messier-than-usual handwriting: 

Violet is with Abbas for the rest of the day; he'll drop her off tomorrow morning. Get some rest. In three weeks, this nightmare will be over, and you'll be free of everything that's holding you back. Then you can build the life you want, the life you deserve, with or without us. 

Jason stares blankly at the note for a few seconds. Growling, he rips the note in half and yells, "GODDAMN IT!" If the Crypt wasn't soundproof, the neighbors would hear 13 consecutive gun shots as he unloads his clip into one of the hallway doors. He drops the smoking 9 mm pistol onto the floor and walks down the dark hall towards his 'home' inside the crypt.

Enough

In the late afternoon on a Tuesday, a day after they last spoke, Dominic gets another call from Alice. The caller ID shows a profile picture of a paw print icon, as per usual, although this time the name is Lanie. "Hey Alb--Dominic... uh, are you, like, busy right now?" She sounds timid, not the usual tone for this psychologist and friend.

Dominic is between bouts of mania himself and was finishing his monthly order of various insane products that he was spurred into getting by hearing various conspiracy theories when Lanie's phone call comes in and Dominic will think to himself, well. Something big certainly happened, and he will pick up the phone and say "I'm not busy, just buying a bunch of stuff I want but don't need again. Saved me and my wallet from some trouble. How can I help you?" The conspiracy theorist picks up on the tone, and tries to do his best to offer his version of a sympathetic statement though as usual there's always some stilt to how he talks, something just wrong enough to remind even Alice that she's talking to a man who for all his vast intelligence doesn't exactly get people. 

"Well, like... Mel got a hold of a lawyer yesterday and learned that her case isn't viable. Something about actors being filmed as evidence of consent to acting in a commercial--uh, money-making capacity, even if no payments were made and nothing was signed." Talking business seems to calm her down. "Basically, actors in the United States have no rights. Given that development, this morning I accepted Pepsi's initial offer to be a mascot so that it'll go public that it's me, and not Mel, who was filmed. All that being said, our plans will be slightly delayed. After I attend a Pepsi-sponsored event in ten days, then we can kill off Alice Decker." A pause. Her tone shifts back. "I, uh, have the time now--and I want to, like, get away for a few days--focus on something else ... Can I come over and try to heal your, uh, employees?" Wards? But maybe they were full grown, supernaturally animated stuffed animals. And it just felt a little bit too insane to ask if she could heal Dominic's teddy bears. Make a house call would have been the best way to say it, but now it was too late. 

"Actors having no rights is... concerning. I'll need to fix that. Shouldn't be too hard actually, but it'll need to come after." He pauses to gesture with his hands, believing that Alice can see him through his camera thanks to the nanites in the blood of anyone who received the covid vaccine before continuing with "And if you need somewhere, my door is always open, I understand that I am not the most approachable of people and trusting is difficult for me. Especially with details of where I live, but, I know I can trust you. 4187 White Bear Ave, White Bear Lake, MN 55110. Don't walk on the grass, there are land mines, and rotate the door knob forward and backward twice each. It disarms the claymore and the backup thermite trap. The door will be unlocked and I will buy... I don't know what you like to eat actually. What would you want?" 

Lanie sighs in a combination of relief and also disbelief that she now has befriended not one but two extremely paranoid people who go to the trouble of boobytrapping their homes. "Thank you Dominic, that means a lot to me. Um, food? I... don't really know. Like, all my life I've had IBS, but for some reason the ritual got rid of it, like the occultist had predicted. So, um, I'm sure whatever you have on hand is fine--no drugs." Did that count as food? She doesn’t know. But Dominic seemed to be pretty well acquainted with cocaine and who knew what else he was well acquainted with. The last thing she wants is weed-laced baked goods. 

"Listen, those are emergency stimulants. I use cocaine like it's intended to be, a solution to a problem. The problem is just generally "I would like to be at a location faster than booking a plane would allow me to be". I'm astounded more people don't carry amphetamines on their person to help with times when they've been worn down to the bone. We're practically soldiers ourselves Lanie', it's not like we have the luxury of expecting to get by on faith, trust, and pixie dust. As for food.. hrmm. Around here we mostly have family style places... I know there's a pretty good steak joint, some good seafood, we are right on a lake. There's some fantastic sushi. Though nothing compared to what they have in the actual big city. I'll get a platter from each. Why the fuck do I do all the business I do if I can't at least eat well when a good friend comes over? Either way, do you need any help showing up? I know there's one stream of insane business into another these days, and I'll send some people to pick you up if need be."

Soldiers? After a pause, Lanie replies, "Well, as a mental health professional, all I can say is I hope you don't have to be at a location faster than booking a plane very often." She instinctively nods to the food (under no impression that Dominic can see her), wondering silently if she likes seafood--or steak for that matter. The digestive problems had been so impactful for so long, and the cure so recent, that the thought of full on eating like everyone else is actually a bit intimidating. But one thing at a time. "Now that I can transform, I have a, uh, undercover means of transportation, but thanks for offering." Again and again, Dominic is solid ground to stand on, insanity and all. "Once I arrange that, I'll let you know when to expect me--I'm guessing no later than tomorrow night."

"I would hope so as well. I don't like doing cocaine, it is the CIA's method of keeping inner city populations oppressed. Damn Ronald Reagan, marching powder is marching powder, you don't misuse it like that." He sighs though and after taking a moment to calm himself, before refocusing on the topic at hand as he processes that Lanie had decided to show up tomorrow. "Oh thank god you aren't coming today. I can clean at a more relaxed pace. Alright. I won't have to rush the deep cleaning process. Also glad to hear you got the covert transportation handled. I was worried that the whole crypt situation may be rearing its ugly head in regards to making that difficult again. Are you going to stay transformed? I'll deactivate the door trap if so, can't exactly rotate the knob without hands unless you've got a means of handling that."

Alice wonders what 'deep cleaning process' means. Her mental image ranges from ‘ensure once again that nothing related to government conspiracies has found its way into my fortress home’ to ‘rinse everything with rubbing alcohol.’ Maybe both? 

"Since I'm still not sure how compromised the Alice identity is--including by association with two people who have gotten tangled up with the FBI--I'd prefer to stay on all fours at least until I make it into your house." His house is probably the safest place to transform, frankly. She never should have done it earlier that day in public, even though no one else was around. Alice sighs again. "But yes, I can handle the door trap on my own if it's, like, a quiet neighborhood." 

"It's quiet, though you may get some funny looks from that rat bastard Winkleheimer. Always watching me from his fucking blinds. He's why I had the house sound proofed. Probably has some listening equipment on the other side of that wall. So be careful." The man says, fully having the capability to just look inside his neighbors house but seeming to have not come to that realization before continuing with, "And sounds good. I'll have the gate open when you arrive, and close once you're through. I won't be there too much before you, have to pick up the food and all, can't give the government my real address by putting it into a delivery app. That's how they get you." 

Actually, they're more likely to get me beside Jason or Abbas, Alice thinks to herself. And hopefully by then I'm an innocent-looking dog--and childless. "I promise to be careful." Compared to the start of the conversation, Lanie sounds much better. "See you soon, and thanks again."

Air travel as a dog ended up being more complicated than Lanie had envisioned. While enough money could secure an "air nanny" without advanced notice, and even include doorstep-to-doorstep service, her 45 lb size prohibited her from traveling in the cabin unless she was a service animal, which would require mild forgery and someone complicit to set up. She also wasn't in the mood to find out what flying in a crate as a checked bag or as cargo would feel like. In the end, Lanie arrived to White Bear Lake, Minnesota, after an eleven-hour chauffeured drive coordinated by Keara (whose identity was squeaky clean). Knowing that Albert wanted to 'deep clean,' Lanie arrives in the late afternoon the following day, just like they had talked about.

A recently washed red SUV slowly pulls up to the lakeside address and parks in the driveway. A Latina woman in her thirties wearing black pants and a gray polo with a small embroidered company logo gets out, unloads a carry-on sized duffelbag from the trunk onto the front porch, and then opens a door to the back seat. Having never transported a solo canine passenger before, she isn't sure if she needs to direct the animal. Thankfully the fluffy, pure white Samoyed wearing a black collar immediately hops out and sits down next to the bag. Just then, the woman receives a phone call from the client. "Yes, I've dropped off your pet and luggage. Yes ma'am." Hesitating only briefly as she glances at the well-trained animal, the woman gets back into the vehicle and drives away. The driveway gate closes behind her.

Lanie takes in her surroundings, nose to the air. The neighborhood is still, and the air is cool and damp on this overcast day. While Detroit is also by a body of water, this place smells cleaner--more suburban than urban and more woodsy. Lots of pine. The row of privacy trees and hedges around the property probably contributed to this.

The older single-story house made mostly of brick with a generous, verdant front lawn that wrapped around one side of the house and flower patches along the porch seems normal--perfectly innocuous. To be honest, Lanie expected to see something tasteless and practical, like electric fencing. Maybe something so overt would signal to Dominic's real and perceived enemies that he is aware of them, taking away the element of surprise... Lanie chuckles to herself. The last thing she needs is to embrace her own inner paranoia.

After confirming that no one is around, the dog faces the front door. In an abundance of caution, she turns the doorknob just as Dominic instructed but from the inside so that no one outside can see it glow with a silver aura. Her eyes similarly glow as she mentally handles the knob. Hopefully "forward" meant clockwise--otherwise, this would be a terrible and sudden way to go. 

Thankfully, Dominic had not been so foolish as to base the trap on directions that'd change if he was leaving or entering the house. He'd been too tired some mornings to still be alive if he had. The door is indeed unlocked, and opening it will reveal the row of nozzles intended to spray unwise intruders with shards of molten metal, and the now deactivated claymore at the side of the door around a lip that seems designed to make it impossible to peak around without exposing yourself at least partially with a strange curve. The rest of the house is.. astoundingly normal, beyond the trapped entry way, and the similar traps that the dog can see on each windowsill the place has photos of family, a college degree framed on the wall, and hardwood floors that would've gone beyond the probably imagined sterile steel bunker that most probably imagined Dominic lived in. What would draw attention after that though is the smell of food. The mixed aromas of steak, fish, and a vegetable platter coming to the enhanced senses of the Dogtor in ways human experience couldn't properly quantify as Dominic would emerge from the kitchen for once not outfitted in anti-surveillance gear. Merely a blue polo shirt, and a set of black slacks that belayed the vicious operator that was known to hide behind the astoundingly normal home life as he would say "Ah! So this is the form you chose. Excellent. Well, I've got food in the kitchen as you probably already know. Try not to use any of the other doors without warning me, and otherwise. How was the trip?"

The dog enters cautiously, abandoning her bag and telekinetically shutting the door. Lanie takes in the sights and sounds of this almost typical American home, ears alert and mouth immediately watering (far more than she's used to). Normalcy as a guise continues to be a viable explanation... but, well, it's hard to deny that the place is nice. The smell of cleaning agents underlying the delicious food in the kitchen answer her question: 'deep cleaning' was, at a minimum, literal. Her sensitive ears pick up on living things below the floor, probably the basement. The sound of ... many things eating? 

The well-dressed, young Caucasian man with the beginnings of a beard, short brown hair, blue eyes, and the voice of Dominic poking out of the kitchen surprises her--a slight jump, ears up and tail down--even though, after all they'd talked about and all he'd done for her, she really shouldn't be on edge.

Dominic's instant acceptance washes the embarrassment away. The Samoyed is visibly pleased as she answers his question with a cheery bark, curly tail now wagging gently. And then she seems surprised again, this time at herself. 

"Ah, right. Should probably learn how to talk to animals at some point now. It feels almost disrespectful not to bark back, but knowing me I'd probably come off dog racist or something somehow by accident. Though I have my means of communicating with you still." He says with a shrug as he turns around and comes out with what looks like a fairly wide bottomed dog bowl in one hand and a plate in the other both with a similar spread. Sushi as a starter it seems and he'd approach the rather large samoyed and lean down to provide a choice between the two as he'd say "Again, not very good at social stuff so I tend to hedge my bets. I knew you'd be coming as something knew but I didn't know if you'd want the dog stuff for comfort or a plate for respect. Just pick whichever."

After a pause, Lanie noses the dog bowl option. As Dominic sets it down, he receives a phone call.

He seems to be trying to play the part of a normal man today as he'll reach into his buzzing pocket and say "Ah, you can still do this when you're a dog! I've only seen one person who could do this and they turned in a horse who well... couldn't do much." He'll press accept on the phone call.

The dog takes a seat before the bowl and looks up at him, now breathing deeply. The familiar voice says gently, "Technically... if you can respect me even like this, then I can have both--comfort and respect.

"Ah. Got me. I was being inconsiderate in the first place, as I said. Social stuff isn't my bag. I try, just, I get caught up in all the things that were before I get into thinking about the things that should be. Even my brain starts to spin when trying to calculate EVERYTHING a person is." He'd say with a chuckle. Still he'd go and get his own plate and sit down in front of her, taking a seat cross-legged as he'd say "I am still glad that you got here safe. I know I shouldn't be, but as this was your first outing as yourself I was worried animal control would be a problem. Especially given you don't have any visible tags. Had the address of the place written down and everything ready to go in and hack the system to show me as the registered owner, but, I'm glad to see that wasn't necessary. My worries aside though. I have to ask, as your voice on the phone didn't sound happy, so I'll be direct. Are you okay?"

"Actually, I'd consider you to be extremely considerate..." Lanie replies as Dominic leaves for the kitchen. Her host coming down to her level solidifies this conviction. She is about to thank him for being watchful during her travels and even apologize once again for being such a burden in the past, but his final words derail it. The ears go back, and she looks down at the meal before them. "You know..." she replies softly, "I don't, like, really know..." A pause. The dog glances at the man. “Sometimes I just get overwhelmed by how, uh, not enough I am--not enough for…” Him. Them. Everything. The sentence doesn't finish as she instead takes a sushi bite, avoiding eye contact. There are no tears this time; only the meekness of defeat. That happened the day before while talking with Keara and then Mel. 

Dominic sighs, taking a bite of his own sushi to let his brain… process. He wasn't good at empathetic decisions in snap environments, but as his brain processed everything that had happened between the pair of them some of the things that would've been more apparent to a more charismatic and empathetic person would become apparent to him as he'd swallow, and then take a small sip of water. He was going to need it. Then he would say,

"Lanie. I've been working with you for a while. I've worked with a lot of other people in our line of work as well. We've had good people, we've had bad people. Really bad people even. Lizard men, pod people, nightmare entities that exist only to traumatize the innocent, Werecreatures, and now this crypt and clone bullshit. The one thing I can say having worked with, or for, all of the myriad creatures, shadow organizations, and every single person I've ever been on a job with is that you are hands down the most reliable of the ones I've met. No one else puts in the effort that you do, no one else is there as often or in the same capacity if they are there for others that you are, and I have watched you spend your entire life for other people's sake. It's been frustrating honestly, and at first, I was helping you because I was worried you'd never find time for yourself if I didn't and I didn't want one of the kinder members of our ‘Chosen’ kind ending up a slave to the incompetent ones. No offense, I know Abbas and Jason try their best but there's just... a clear delineation between how you and I operate and how they operate in terms of thorough application of our mental faculties. It's not kind, but it's true. Now you're here, and you're here as who you want to be. The good dogtor, can help any and everyone without the hedgehog's dilemma getting in the way, and still. Do you think that being this paragon of empathy, this person who can solve problems that no one else can even hope to properly address that'd otherwise cripple people for life, this openly loving person who places the needs of others before herself is not enough? In my experience, you've routinely been more than enough for one person's contributions to anything, and I know you want to do it all, but that's not reasonable to expect of yourself. I know you wouldn't expect it from anyone else, even me, it's why you went out and contacted that Inderpal woman when the old team turned out to be more in danger than capable of helping. You're doing everything you can Lanie, and not in the bullshit someone saying that but not actually doing anything meaningful way. You creatively apply yourself, you find people better able to handle problems when your own skills aren't sufficient, and when you find someone isn't suited to a task you make sure a better substitute is found. So, while that may not always be able to get you the outcome you want, it's always enough."

He'd say as he'd shimmy to the side a bit and awkwardly place a hand on top of Lanie's head to give her a pat. Not quite emotionally ready to attempt something like a hug or god forbid petting, so he'd settle for a gesture he'd do for a person he was trying to console while handling the social anxiety that was currently preventing him from saying another word. 

My entire life for other people's sake... She did her best to prevent the jobs from negatively impacting Keara's life, including building up a nest egg in case of Lanie's sudden death. Then she surrendered her place to her clone, the only thing that would make Mel happy. 

She took up the mantle of Alice Decker to co-parent Violet and also make the best of being bound to Jason--first bound by the Crypt curse and then by their friendship. At least, she believed and wanted it to be a friendship. Now... she wasn't so sure. 

She discovered every possible lead to make alliances and trade favors to accumulate power, hopefully enough to set them free. The leads she hadn't yet followed up with was only because of how busy she'd been parenting, providing assistance to allies, and putting out life-threatening fires.

Openly loving? Dominic's words contrast with Jason's the day before: "How can you love me? What does that even mean to you?" The person she'd intimately spent six months with--and known for a total of ten--didn't recognize her sincere, sacrificial, no-strings-attached affection... yet Dominic did?

And then there are the pile of compliments--factually supported appreciation and recognition from this person she hadn't (yet) really done anything for. Some were things that Keara and Mel had tried to tell her, but at the time Lanie couldn't receive them. And Jason... he had thanked her for healing his hand; that was it. In fact, he seems angry with her (and himself) for most everything else. 

Lanie shuts her eyes and accepts the pat. Dominic hears a sigh come from the phone and dog. In that sigh, the harshest judge--herself--finally yields. As her host's hand retreats, she licks it. It's salty. That and the quieting of her internal thoughts makes room to hear his rapid heart rate and smell his sweat. He has once again wandered far from his comfort zone on her behalf. "Thank you, friend," the dogtor whispers, not for the first time and probably not for the last. 

Dominic kind of blinks for a few seconds, not really expecting all that, but he sighs after a moment of looking at his hand. His blue eyes were transfixed by what he saw for a few moments before he says:

"You're... welcome. It feels weird saying that. As I don't feel like I'm doing enough for you, you have said rather repeatedly that you don't feel like you're doing things for me but you're helping me overcome a thing that I know I couldn't do otherwise. Hell. I can barely do it when I'm paired with people. There's so much darkness, so much vileness in the world that hides underneath the surface. I find it overwhelming honestly, and in that state, I find it hard to trust... anyone. Even to the degree of working with them. I likely wouldn't bring anyone on jobs if I had my way about it honestly, and to be perfectly honest. In a way, I'm using you as exposure therapy to get through this and try and find people who can tolerate all of what I am, and who I can tolerate in turn. I'm glad to say that I think you're one of them, and anytime you need something my door remains open, but on that topic I do have to ask. I've never seen you go out for something that was actually just for you. You've orchestrated things for children, and you've gone into the crypt but even that was only half for you, hell even now you're here to help me untraumatize some holocaust camp survivor teddy bears. Thus I've been perplexed for a while. What exactly do you want to do?"

Lanie listens as she enjoys another couple pieces of delicious sushi; so far, the one with the cooked fish and the dark, sweet sauce is her favorite. Dominic's "confession" makes her tail thump thump a little. Frankly, it is a set up which, in light of his blatant paranoia, she had suspected for a bit and is perfectly okay with. However, the tail stops when he gets to his question. 

She swallows instinctively to speak, but then replies telepathically, "It's not just what I want to do--it's also, like, who I want to be. I want to be comfortable in my body, and this form is a big part of that. I want to be myself... Between being visibly weak, IBS, and not interested in what most others my age and gender are interested in, believe it or not I've always been an outsider--even though I can fake my way in. But all I've ever wanted is to be myself yet be accepted into the inside--welcomed among people despite not really feeling like I was ever, like, one of them... And I want to heal minds, especially the minds of children, but without putting the people I love or myself in danger." A pause. "Early on, a couple jobs in, I charted a path for how to get there. Providing a more potent, supernatural form of therapy was the beginning and changing forms is a milestone... but along the way I've also tried to collect resources and abilities that will make me self-sufficient, so that even like this I can maintain my independence and hopefully avoid becoming an easily identifiable, kidnappable Golden Goose." 

Dominic ponders what is being said for a few moments, taking in the information that was presented about Lanie's history, and what her motivations were and he'd pop a few pieces of his own sushi seeming to savor the fatty tuna the most of the set before he'd speak.

"Well, being easily kidnappable is something even I struggle to avoid. Hence why I've got so many redundant layers of traps here. It's all about the hope that they'll miss one of them and end up giving me a warning that someone is inside my home trying to kill me or kidnap me. So I live that fear that you have quite often. As for not being interested in what most people your age and sex are interested in. I sympathize there as well. As much as delving into the hidden truths of the world, and developing a rather lucrative business in technology, is a personally fulfilling line of work it also has led to me discovering things that when I talk about them people go running. 

My circle of friends, real ones, is... exceedingly small. Between being called crazy, and the visible gunshot scar on what is otherwise a pretty frail form I know what you've lived. I'm not sure if I want to be accepted myself, I don't mind being on the outside as much, but I do want to have people I trust. Anyways, enough about me, this is supposed to be about you and I let myself get on a tangent. If your goal is to be able to protect and hide yourself, then you really don't need much more from these jobs, do you?  You've got the dog form, you've got the ability to mend people's minds. The only thing you really need to fix is.. hmm. Perhaps an ability to teleport out of trouble like what Kevin had? Not sure when you'd be able to pick that up, but after that, good luck kidnapping Lanie losers. Hah. The welcoming part will come in time for you I think, after all, once you've got the unassailable golden goose part down people will clamor at your door. The government will likely have their problems, they always do, damn shadow state bastards. I have confidence though that you aren't like Avril Lavigne. You won't be replaced by a clone after the government takes you because you've done the right things. You've made good friends, you've kept your wits about you, and you've kicked enough ass for any ten other people who take jobs that I know. Most importantly though. When you do, you'll do what even I struggle to imagine myself doing. You'll make the world a better place." 

Lanie takes another bite and nods as Dominic shares, an unusual gesture for a dog. Oddly, his paranoia actually makes her feel safe, and his bouts of insanity are almost endearing. If he seemed to be spiraling downward, of course she'd be concerned and try to intervene, but presently the man seems to be on all other accounts stable. Then she is visibly pleased by Dominic's confidence in her, tail thumping again.

"Thank you. No, not much more. I have a couple of things in mind along the lines of escape and defense, including teleportation, as well as strengthening my healing abilities... Assuming I live long enough, I intend on tackling the backlog of degeneration that Ghoul Fever has brought on--mental healing en mass. But, one thing at a time. First I have--want to deal with the Alice Decker identity, the Crypt, and get Violet settled into long-term care, which also means dealing with her demon... There is also Jason's FBI mess, but once he's de-cursed that's no longer a life or death situation and I'm, like, leaning towards letting him handle it especially after he, uh, expressed a desire to do more himself..." She gets quieter and her ears go down for that bit. That's one way to put it. "And, before all of that, dinner and teddy bears." 

The dog seems to grin, something easy for that particular breed to pull off, before licking her chops and proceeding to slowly eat the rest of her sushi appetizer, this time using telekinesis to pick up each piece and dip it in the soy sauce dish before moving it up to her muzzle and biting it out of the air. She's also careful to avoid drip soy sauce on the remarkably clean. As soon as her eyes and a sushi piece gain a glowing silver aura, the 'call' drops (although Dominic might not have noticed if he wasn't looking at his phone, and him speaking normally would be just as effective).

"I envy the people who get to pick what they get from these jobs a little. For me, it's always what I'm able to wrest from the control of the deep state. Intercepting their priority shipments and cobbling the technology together or reverse engineering their methods. Makes it a bit hard to find the upgrade parts when I really want them. Either way the remaining tasks don't sound too terrible, well, besides this whole crypt nonsense. That's a bit beyond the pale of standard understanding I fear, and is going to take the full force of whatever you've managed to muster to handle. Honestly that's the only one I'm worried about, but hopefully Violet at least will make it through to the other side. Sad that a child had to grow up in that." 

He'd say, continuing to talk to the dog despite the absence of the phone call, not really looking at it but instead at the dog this entire time anyways, a basic respect thing he'd been taught as he'd continue with,

"And indeed. Dinner and Teddy Bears. Something I didn't expect to find myself involved with, to be honest. Quite a bit... I hate to say it but sillier than what my typical jobs include, but I'm not going to ignore people in pain just because I'm not used to how they look. Struggle to call myself a good person if I didn't give help to disaster survivors because they happen to look cute and cuddly.  I mean, I think I'm preaching to the choir a bit but it holds true."

Lanie nods. Her plate dog bowl is now empty, and Dominic's plate nearly empty. She's about to reply but then remembers that the line is cut off. This will take some getting used to. Albert's phone rings yet again, and the moment he picks up Lanie replies, "You are indeed one of the good ones, and I'm a professional judge of character." The Samoyed winks and the emphasis is playful, a change of pace from all their business and heart-to-heart talk. 

"But, going back to the Crypt stuff, with a doctor and a bodyguard or two on standby with Violet and I, I'm more concerned about Jason and Abbas. If I had my way, neither of them would be on the job at all; I'm pretty sure they're out of their league given the group I've put together and what they're up against. I might be able to get Abbas to stay behind, but Jason... I doubt he'll listen. Given how an--" Lanie glances away as she awkwardly self-censors. "--uh, frustrated he's been with how much I've--" Again. "--like, how little he's been able to do lately, I think he sees this as an opportunity for personal redemption. But, like, at the end of the day, half of this job is for his survival and freedom…” A pause. “I'm doing enough," the supernatural dog concludes (or maybe simply reiterates to herself, trying to get it to stick more).

Dominic will blink for a moment as he looks down at his phone, and he'll chuckle and shake his head before answering it. "Thanks, that means something, getting caught up in nasty work like this. It's easy to lose sight of what you should do and who you are." He'll listen to her follow up, and in particular his expression will fall at the mentions of Jason and Abbas. With his lack of social graces he doesn't exactly have the ability to hide his feelings there, and he'll sigh and say,

"Of course you are. You can't be constantly responsible for an entire group's safety and well being even when they include grown ass adults who should be capable of managing their own affairs and feelings. As for Jason being mad about how little he's done. That's partly a masculine thing? Like we have a lot of our identity tied up in how much we can do for people, and if we aren't useful then we aren't living up to the ideals of what we were born into, but part of being useful to people is also. Not being a hindrance. With all due respect, I don't expect much to be done when it comes down to this crypt business by putting a dozen or so rounds into the crypt keeper so.. Jason should just stay out of this. If he has any sense. If you want me to talk to him and get him to see sense that'd be possible, but I think it'd be easier to just engineer something else for him to do during that. Abbas.. I still don't know what Abbas does besides use a bow and claim to hate monsters? Oh, and that he apparently got his demolitions license in that completely fucked state of Tennessee."

Alice shakes her head no to Albert's suggestion of stepping in. Although it is a kind offer, but it would probably make things worse. Planning something else for Jason to do had crossed her mind (it is in fact what she is trying to do with Abbas), but guarding her and Violet would also probably require more than a firearm--and a bow and arrow for that matter. She's about to explain this when Dominic mentions Abbas's demolitions license--something she didn't know about. "Just how deep did you dig into my friends and family?" There is nothing negative in her voice, but the dog would have a raised eyebrow if it could. "And, on that note, are you still watching and listening in, like, using our electronics?" There are pros and cons to having a second ghostly guardian, this one existing primarily within machines. Time to set some healthy boundaries.

"Not yours, Abbas's and Jason's mostly these days. It's part of the pre-screening. I figure out what people have done with their lives until then, and either weed them out for being not useful or interesting, or if I identify problems I steer clear of them. One of the things I noticed about Abbas back when we first met is that he was registered to get his demolition license with the state of Tennessee. I keep tabs on Jason and Abbas still, because, well.. It's like looking in the other room every time a toddler makes a noise, or when they make no noise at all. I can trust you to mostly handle yourself, but I'm concerned about the child that you routinely leave in both their care. I know you can't always be there, and it wouldn't be reasonable to expect you to, so I employ a little help from the watchers who don't need rest." Dominic would offer with an apologetic shrug like he wasn't engaging in massive, blatant, violations of privacy.

"..." The dog stares back at Dominic blankly. The empty bowl and her remaining hunger has been entirely forgotten. "You've been... watching over Violet, like, when they watch Violet?" 

"Yes, I roughly know what's been happening. Is there a problem? I must admit I was a bit worried when that cop showed up but it seemed to sort itself out. No thanks to Abbas." He asks, wondering exactly what Lanie was going to get at here. 

Lanie is visibly confused herself, head tilting slightly to one side as she continues staring into the eyes of her oblivious host. There is an uncomfortably long pause before she speaks. "Dominic... like, if I suspected any part of you was perverted or malicious... your watchfulness would have been a cause for concern--like, extremely serious concern as an adoptive mother and a therapist and a friend--because that kind of behavior--without prior consent, I mean, especially involving a minor--is, uh, most would consider it to be quite invasive and a clear marker of a 'problem person to steer clear of.'" She sighs. It makes sense to learn about your co-workers, but ongoing monitoring? "Even if the government or some other illicit organization does it, that doesn't, like, make it any better..."

"That being said, I haven't found any reason to question your character yet... Actually, I have much evidence to the contrary, that you are exactly who you present yourself to be, and your caring actions speak loudly--despite your ignorance or maybe intentional ignoring of social norms..." She shakes her head and tries to get back on some kind of linear thought, despite not knowing quite where the track will take her. "Shit--I, like, honestly ... can't decide ... I'm comforted knowing you might have intervened in the Dallas situation... and at the same time stunned, like, that you would ..." What? "... would, uh ..." The dog shuts her eyes for a moment, navigating the internal tension, and then finally settles on just saying both things: "... stunned that you would break social norms and invade privacy to such an extreme extent while also maintaining vigilance and care over Violet for such a long period of time." 

The concept that he might have been doing this for weird sexual reasons when watching a child was rather immediately concerning as he would go,

"What? Perverted? That's... No. Just fuckin no. I'd be absolutely fine with removing the bugs if I thought that the child was actually safe in the hands of Jason and Abbas, but this is a breach of social norms for a reason, and a damn good one at that. Both of them have routinely proven that they have difficulty securing their own safety let alone that of a child, and having some manner of recording to know if something goes wrong is simply best practice. Privacy and Safety are always exchanges, if you want a certain level of safety you have to sacrifice privacy, and I.. I didn't have another way to help. I can't exactly approach a child and hang around them. I've got too much fucked up, up here." 

He says pausing to tap the side of his head, "To be allowed within a school zone for anything other than the jobs. So I keep my distance, able to radio you in when someone messes up, and otherwise I don't monitor for anything else. You have my promise there. Though. This is also only in the case of Jason and Abbas's personal devices, so it's not like I've set up a stealthy home security situation in your home anyways. However."

He pauses to sigh and shake his head before he'd finish with, "I am trying to be better, and though I think that all I've done is co-opt the existing surveillance devices in your home and devices that the Illuminati would be watching you through anyways if I wasn't, I can turn them off instead if it really does matter to you."

Alice monitors Dominic's heart rate and scent as he talks, both which give no indication of insincerity or some other underlying issue. Technically, he did say he was always watching. Lanie had just made the mistake of deeming it a prank, as no one normal would literally always be watching.

"I, uh..." More internal wrestling for a brief moment before her ears go down a bit and she glances away awkwardly. "... you, like ... so, how are they doing? If they're in the Crypt, you probably won't get a signal..." The indirect giving of her consent. 

"Sorry, they're outside of my observational range right now. Probably in the crypt if I had to guess as I don't see Jason as the naturalist type. Though if you'd like to fix that and take on some of the observational responsibility yourself... Come with me." Dominic will stand up and begin walking out of sight, and then to the stairs. Stopping mid-way at a...wall? There he'll slide a section of wall to the side and begin typing on a keypad. That he'll punch some numbers into, and then, provided Lanie follows, she will see him withdraw a strange little pen that the click of which has a very small almost imperceptible camera on it. Said Pen he will hold out for Lanie to inspect looking rather proud as he'll say "I wasn't lying before when I said that I'd managed to co-opt the Illuminati surveillance, and with this device, you can do it as well. Though I've yet to work out the bug that disables their cloaking once I have control over them, and currently it drains some of the electricity in your body to be able to initially power the devices, but with this. You'd be able to keep an eye directly on Jason, Abbas, and Violet. Even talk to them without it interfering with that silvery glow I think you'll be using a lot more to manipulate things now that you're The Dogtor. At least, assuming that real intense expression you keep making is you applying your mental focus when you do those things." 

The dog definitively follows. Ah, secret wall panels. That feels much more in line with the kind of home that Lanie expected. Deep cleaning indeed, since that part of the wall previously had no fingerprints on it.

Upon seeing the pen, she has questions. One that she dares not ask is whether the Illuminati is actually real. If opportunities to steal inconceivably advanced technology is what Dominic considered "payments" for the jobs, well, then the harbingers are either paying him in a indirect (and possibly self-amusing) way OR he is receiving his payments directly but the experience is being filtered through his paranoia and delusions.

While Dominic's ongoing observation remains morally ambiguous, Lanie watching over Violet feels perfectly acceptable--and she would inform Jason and Abbas about it so that there'd be no deception. But the last part of the explanation is what gets her really excited. "I could, like, talk through this?" she asks with disbelief.

Dominic had indeed scrubbed his apartment of identifying DNA and markings prior to Lanie's arrival. He hadn't wanted any potential contaminants or any inklings or where any of his little treasure troves actually were besides this one, and holding the pen out for the dog to inspect once she had asked her question and he'd smirk when she finished as he'd proudly present his handiwork and fish a fifty dollar bill out of his front pocket and present it to Lanie, the eyes of the president subtly moving back and forth as Dominic would speak through the dollar bill's mouth

"Indeed, you can. I've spoken through all other manner of things through this even when gagged. Though they do need to have the item in question actually on their person for you to be able to, and they can even communicate back.  Though doing so strips what little camouflage I'm able to give them.. so far. Not only that, but you can see, hear, and even smell through them. A recent breakthrough of mine also allows me to use my detection abilities through it. It's just a theory at the moment but the same should probably apply to any of your canine senses as if you were standing right there, and finally. Though I am revealing a trade secret here."

He'll click the end of the pen and then flip it over like he was aiming a neuralizer at Lanie and then says,

"Alright take it, and make sure that end stays depressed for a few seconds, then press it again. It'll play back the time recorded when you do. You can rotate the base of the pen to select different times you've played things back or to set a new recording slot. I'm not sure how much this thing can hold but I've never run out. Though I've yet to get it to broadcast the recordings. Just plays for the person holding it. Bonus, it seems to automatically run some kind of playback software so even when one of these is destroyed you'll be able to play back the recording." 

She doesn't know much about cutting edge (Illuminati?) technology, but this is definitively a magic pen. 

The tail wags as Lanie's eyes glow silver and Dominic's now glowing phone floats out of his shirt pocket down to her. The offered pen also glows and floats down. She touches the pen's point to the phone for a few seconds mid-air, just like she saw Dominic do with the bill, briefly wondering if a telekinetic touch is sufficient for powering it. It is. A wave of tiredness hits her, a feeling reminiscent of the Crypt curse but not quite so bad. The phone returns to his pocket and the pen she gingerly takes in her teeth before walking down the hall and out of sight into the kitchen.

A few seconds later, Lanie happily declares through the phone, "I can smell you--this thing is amazing!" 

"Good, good. I'm glad that it's working the way you need it to. I always worry about user experience with untested stuff like this. After all, not like I was able to put it through a design and testing phase. I will work out that kink with it making you tired as fuck as soon as I can though, I'm thinking piezoelectrics but I need to find a material that can sustain the near-infinite use these things can put up with. Wouldn't want to go in tinkering and end up reducing the lifespan of the device with some half-thought-out modifications you know?" 

He'd then go to the wall safe, and input a code, and Lanie could see for a brief moment what looks like a dumb waiter lowering with what seems to be four more of those things lowering out of view before Dominic would turn back to Lanie and say

"That said, it's a good thing you like it because It's yours. The current iteration can only sustain connection with 3 of the devices simultaneously, but you can bet your ass I'm going to be finding a way to remove that hard-coded limit sooner or later."

"Thank you!" The dog is very pleased; the tail has never wagged this hard before. This device solves a problem she had become aware of since the Ghoul Fever outbreak--that in her true form she can only communicate to one person at a time, making group therapy impossible.

But what does she have to trade in return? She's already there to return a favor (or three). "I promise to get you some interesting technology, whatever the source." The pen is still in her mouth, causing her to salivate a bit. No pockets, just a black flat collar and excessive fluff... She glances down the hall in the direction of the front door. "Uh, could you please get my bag? I didn't want to bring it in myself, like, in case your neighbor was somehow watching..." Doing it manually would be odd dog behavior, and magically would have been quite overt. 

Mention of his neighbor seems to trigger some of the neurosis that lays behind Dominic's exterior as he will shift and go check the windows, squinting through at.. something? He'll take a few moments of looking through before he'll go to the coat rack and put on his anti surveillance jacket and mask, putting them on before sliding in and out like he was on a stealth mission before coming back and placing the bag in front of Lanie as he'll say 

 "Fuckin Winkleheimer is probably watching, he's always watching. I'm glad that you were careful. Asshole would call the local news and the PD faster than you can blink. If this wasn't the only house that existed on a lake that had a natural underwater tunnel structure connecting it to the local waterways, I'd have moved a long time ago. I'll find a way to get rid of him eventually, but that's another topic. Now I can see that keeping that pen in your mouth is probably not the best solution. We'll probably need to do some DIY home crafts to make you a collar to hide it, though the easier method will probably be to put a bandanna around your neck and simply include a pocket on the inside for you to carry your essentials."

At "natural underwater tunnel structure," Alice begins to wonder if his basement in fact resembles a batcave or some equivalent, complete with submarine on standby for an emergency getaway. There are certainly pros to being this paranoid.

"Yeah, I haven't quite figured out the stuff part yet..." Lanie replies while mentally bringing her bag into the living room, walking behind it and savoring the fact that she can now multitask. "I'm not very crafty. A bandana sounds nice... With this pen, though, now I'm thinking, like, a collar with a small speaker attached would be great!"

As she talks (and continues to hold the pen in her mouth), the small black duffle bag is unzipped, and then telekinetically rummaged through. The bag mostly contains a white fluffy blanket at the top, her efforts to be a conscientious guest because now she sheds. Some human clothes are below that along with a couple of dog accessories: gray collar, leash, an empty dog pack... 

Dominic will go over towards the bag when it's being rummaged through, in part to satisfy his paranoia. Something he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Though the rest of it was genuine concern that Lanie might be forgetting some essentials and seeing what she had he'd sigh and say,

"The collar is a good idea. Though the state of what you've got in this bag... we're gonna need to get some essentials. Did you know they make tactical vests for K-9 units? Might be a good idea to get one and recolor it to look like a standard dog harness. It won't protect you if you get shot in the head, but, it'd be a good idea to be prepared for an asshole to decide that he wants to put a round in the canine. Secondly, we can take a note from Saint Bernards, I think, and give you one of those neck barrels to keep in line with the canine aesthetic and give you a little extra storage space. Even though the K-9 harness will have its share of pouches, storage space is at a premium for things that can be preserved organically without you needing to.. well. Look odd. If people see a dog walking around with a duffel bag in her mouth all the time you'll draw some unneeded attention. What do you think?" 

Lanie pulls out a small 2x2x1 metal box that has the engraved image of a spider on it and sets it on the ground at Albert's feet. "Believe it or not, I have something in the way of armor on already, like, at all times. It's sort of like the Golden Rule; if I don't hurt someone then, one way or another, they have difficulties hurting me. I have considered a tactical vest, just in case I have to, like, bite someone in self-defense, but I haven't gotten around to ordering that yet--I've been, uh, it's, like, been a busy life..." From all the things that had happened in the past couple of days, professional and personal, the travel, and powering the pen, the dog is suddenly quite tired. The adrenaline is waning in this place of safety. She yawns as both a dog and a female voice on Albert's phone, revealing unusually sharp pearly white teeth before picking up the dropped magical pen and continuing with a slower, more tired tone. "Maybe tonight we can put together a list, like, after I assess the teddy bears." 

Dominic looks down at it, and sighs as he'll crouch down and give the dog a pat around the same time as he sees her yawn, and he can't help but chuckle as he'll say shake his head. His read had been accurate, this woman had been waging a war all her lonesome for so long that she hadn't really been able to rest in forever he'd bet. So, standing, Dominic would go to pick up the bag for now after putting the little box back in, and setting it up on a little outcropping on the coat rack by the door as he'd turn to Lanie and say, "I bet it has been a busy life, we'll get it situated so that you can defend yourself. Though if you really have some ability like that it does make me feel better for your safety. As much as I'm sure you can handle yourself, I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that's a part of it. As for the teddy bears.. they aren't going anywhere, and they've been like this for months. I know it isn't exactly a dog bed, but I do have an.. unused... guest room upstairs. Why don't you go up and get some rest? That pen takes a lot out of you, and the jet lag combined with that can't be doing you any favors. I'll re-engage security while you sleep. Feels weird looking at my windows and not seeing the comforting little red dot of the laser emitters over them blinking. We can talk about anything else after. You're a psychologist, you know that operating on less than 7 hours of sleep means you will always take at least some hit to your cognitive ability, and I'd rather not chance their therapy on us being a little too hasty."

"Okay," Lanie replies. All of the points were valid, which she's come to expect from him. "But uh, Dominic?" Her body language shifts as she sits there, an exhausted fluffy cloud of a dog with eyes full of hopefulness and tail thumping ever so slightly. "Can, I, uh... eat, like... a bowl full of steak first?" 

Dominic blinks and can't stop himself from laughing. Of course, the dog wanted the steak, and he'd turn toward the kitchen and reply with,

"I can't believe I forgot that I bought like 3 pounds a person for it, sure. I don't mind. I bought it half for you after all. Sorry for getting caught up in all the big things that I forgot the minutiae."

He'd then go into the kitchen, picking up the dog bowl as he'd walk on his way to it, and return with a bowl full of what is probably decently high-end steak, two porterhouses, and a filet mignon, that he'd set down in front of the Samoyed half curious to see how she'd go about tackling it.

The dog sniffs the bowl, instantly salivating a ton. Then she slowly licks the filet mignon with closed eyes and shivers with delight, visibly pleased. Looking up at Dominic, "Ohmygod, this is heavenly!"

Maybe it is a higher quality meat, and actually properly prepared, than she's used to--which isn't saying much given her pre-ritual diet of power-based nutritionally complete shakes. Maybe the experience is enhanced by her new form. Maybe she's finally indulging in the absence of her digestive issues. Maybe she's just really damn hungry. 

Standing with her head down and tail wagging like a perfectly average, overjoyed dog, Lanie proceeds to eat the entire bowl. The only clear abnormality is that she can cut through the larger pieces of meat easily with a single concerted chomp, revealing that her teeth are probably as sharp as extremely honed knives. At first Dominic hears a happy "mmmm" but within seconds that cuts out and it's just the sound of a dog eating.

Dominic is content to watch her be happy and eat, though he will take a second to go and get a piece of steak himself. Coming back with a slab of beef wedged between two slices of bread as he'd squat down beside the dog and just enjoy the moment for a while. Not really needing to talk that much, and merely just enjoying the shared ritual of eating a meal together. The inherent connection of satisfying a mortal need a connecting experience, and once finished Dominic will go and take the bowl and wash it and his hands before returning to say 

"Well, I take it that you enjoyed the food. I think I'll leave the rest of my portion for your breakfast and have the sushi myself. Now. You ready to rest or should I go put on the TV in the living room? I've not used it in awhile, propaganda being used to mind control the masses and all, but I could put on something, not the news for us to enjoy."

"Yes, that was wonderful--thank you! I think, like, I should go to bed." With a full belly, the dog yawns again, blinking slowly before her eyes start to glow. The folded white fluffy blanket that she brought floats over to her back so that she can carry it easily into the bedroom. She doesn't seem to need to see what she's handing in order to telekinetically handle it. 

"I'd, like, have you over someday, but you'd probably not enjoy the Crypt or an FBI-raided apartment," she says sleepily. And then there would be Jason, Violet, and Abbas... 

"Yeah, no thank you, all due respect. I do a lot to keep my house hidden from the public eye, and it's part of why I'm so secretive about my identity. No one knows who I really am, no one has any data even to extrapolate that from, and that means this place is safe. No one's going to be able to hunt me down, and if they do. Reinforced Steel Cored Walls, a heavy machine gun hidden inside the ceiling that I can remote control, and an escape tunnel all ease even my worries. So go on and get some rest. I'll hold down the fort and keep an eye on Jason, Violet, and Abbas for you and then pass the reins to you on that after you've gotten a full night's sleep."

The dog nods, and then slowly moves closer and licks Dominic's hand again as she says, "Thanks for having me over." The amount of trust and faith is not lost on her.

Man and dog go down the hallway to the guest bedroom. The blanket is telekinetically spread out atop the bed and then she jumps up onto it, curling up tight with the tip of the tail over her nose--a habit the breed developed to protect themselves from frostbite in extremely cold weather. Her fur is her covering. The bedroom door remains open--not like she needs to change or something. It's dark and quiet outside.

"It's no problem. I know you'd do the same for me." 

Dominic will move to guide her once the conversation finishes, having been merely waiting for the discussion to end rather than being a poor host. He will leave the door open once Lanie has made her spot on the bed, the spread rather.. archaic but very very heavy. A massive winter comforter, an array of five pillows, and the bed itself an ancient hardwood affair that could probably survive a bomb. Likely why Dominic purchased it. He'll chuckle once he sees her curl up on top of them and say 

"Alright, good night. I'll see you when you wake." 

"Goodnight." 

Then he leaves, allowing the sleepy dog to enjoy a moment of rest in a room with bullet-proof windows.

-------

In the Midst

Alice turns off the hallway light. Abandoning her shoes and luggage in the hallway, she moves to the kitchen and quickly prepares dinner using a reusable water bottle and a meal replacement packet. It's good to be home. 

She walks quiety through the house to her bedroom, careful to not disturb Keara. She's always seen well in near darkness, and everything is just how she left it. Exhausted, she moves to the messy bed. It is occupied. This is not her bedroom. This is not her home. 

Embarassed and confused, she backs up slowly through the doorway. Instead of a hallway, she enters a foggy forest lit by the first rays of morning light. In the midst of the smells of damp leaves, bark, and ground, she knows Abbas is nearby. There are also the distant sounds and smells of people. She moves in his direction, but his scent grows fainter. A whisper: "Abbas?" Is he running away from her or from everyone else?

Violet giggles, snapping her attention. The little girl emerges from behind a thick shrub wearing an adorable dress with leaves in her hair and some dirt on her face, hands, and clothes. "Ribbbbit." She's playing with Jason. "Catch him, Mommy!" The woman smiles and follows. The girl and amphibian's meandering chase takes them down a slope momentarily out of sight. When she reaches the ridge, they're gone. "Violet? Jason?" Silence. Her worry borders panic as she rushes forward.

The forest immediately rots. Black streaks of taint spread out from her along the ground, covering yards in seconds. Branches and several trunks fall as green trees transform into rotten, burnt bark; leaves and grass turn into stubble and ash. Swirls of black dust displace the mist, and the small dewy diamonds adorning the forest's surfaces are now dark rubies. In the edges of her vision, always just out of view, the desolate bark and ground seem to form a thousand faces.

She dodges a falling branch as the landscape changes. She's on all fours now, much closer to the ground and panting as she continues to forward, smelling for anyone or anything familiar other than the overpowering scent of fresh and rotten blood. Her white paws and legs are quickly stained red. Then two things cause her to freeze and her heart to sink. The first is the scent and shrill, unearthly song of the Crypt Keeper, a melodic howl that rattles the ruins of the bleeding forest. The second is the faint smell of Jason--his dead body. "Jason? JASON!?"

Plain Sight

About eleven hours later, around 6 AM, a Pathetic woman wearing a white crop top and loose gray linen pants with a messy bob undercut and purple dyed tips snaps awake to the sound of her own voice calling urgently out to Jason Decker (loudly, but not quite as loud as in her dream). Lanie sits up on the fluffy white blanket atop the queen bed and slowly looks around as the adrenaline, feelings, and visuals of the nightmare rapidly fade away. The sun hasn't quite risen yet, and the thick curtains block most of the early morning light. Nevertheless, she can see the room clearly. This is not the Crypt, nor Abbas's hideout in the forest, nor her (old?) home in Berkeley.

She reaches for her neck; the collar isn't there. Of course not--if it was, she wouldn't be in this form. It's also not on the bed. Then she slowly remembers where she is, where her bag is (which has a backup collar), and, finally, where the missing collar is. She had taken it off to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and probably left it there.

Lanie gives the bedroom another visual scan, momentarily wondering if there are any cameras. When her gaze rests on the pen that had fallen to the floor, she sighs. If Dominic did want to watch her or any of his other guests for whatever reason, he undoubtedly could do so quite easily and subtly. She'd just have to trust him. No reason not to so far. Next, she listens and notices that the room is unusually quiet given the home's location right next to a lake with a generous amount of trees in the neighborhood; she can barely hear the couple of early rising birds through the window. 

Perhaps this is simply because she's not in her true form? Suddenly it occurs to her that she can spy on her host just as easily as he can spy on her. The temptation to peer at Dominic through his bugged phone quickly passes when she remembers that some men sleep naked. Perhaps scent would be informative yet less invasive? She shakes her head as though to push the thought away, considering that to be even worse if he is still asleep--equivalent to her standing over his bed and sniffing him--regardless of whether, for whatever perfectly logical and/or insane reason, he considered that behavior to be acceptable. Perhaps just sound then? ... No ... But it is tempting. Finally, as the last of the sleepy haze wears off, she remembers that this man is both intelligent and utterly paranoid. The phone is probably far away from him anyways.

With that, Lanie cracks open the closed bedroom door, listening and sniffing like a perfectly respectful albeit slightly unusual and highly perceptive guest to determine whether her host or anyone/thing else in the fortress of a house is presently awake. 

The visual scan of the bedroom doesn't immediately identify any cameras, and sniffing around gets her nothing immediately but it does identify that the scents in most of the house are either in the form of now vacant steak, sushi, and cleaning product. Dominic apparently never even went by her room, and depending on the accuracy the freshest scent trail would exist heading on down towards the basement. Appropriately paranoid if true really. 

However, no more recent scent trails exist in the house, so either Dominic is exceedingly clean when performing his clandestine viewings, a total possibility, or he's been down in the basement since Lanie went to sleep.

With this information and confirmation that the coast is clear, Lanie slips into the bathroom. At first she intends on just fetching the collar, but the tub is too tempting. The last time she had a nice long soak in a tub (not filled with blood) was six months ago, before the curse. That a washcloth and towel are neatly folded and waiting for her on the bathroom counter is a testament to Dominic's hosting skills. 

About an hour later, a damp, squeaky clean, fresh-scented Samoyed wearing a black collar exits the bathroom. By her tail and grin, the dog is in a really good mood. From there Lanie slowly meanders around the public areas of the main floor, particularly taking in any pictures on display (including gently telekinetically picking up a framed photo on the entryway table to bring it to her level) with the hopes of learning a bit more about the friends and family of her host. It immediately crosses her mind that the photos are excellently photoshopped ruses, but even then it might hint to some insight about Dominic beyond his paranoia and desire for privacy. 

She sees some photos from an early career in the military apparently, something Dominic’s never talked about, including some pictures of him seeming to be relatively happy with friends. Later on pictures of him with an older-looking heavy set woman along with what looks like a vase of flowers by it where he has the scar on his cheek, then him holding a degree at a ceremony with an older man, and a smattering of other photos involving things which begin to get a bit stranger as it becomes photos of various locations with no one in them, photos of buildings, photos of a lake, and photos of him with people that progressively become more and more uncannily.. wrong. People dressed like they're out of the correct time period, or dressed seriously while attending relatively simple functions. Little circles marked around people in the backgrounds of things as mundane as McDonalds or Denny's parking lots, less mementos and more a hidden in plain sight conspiracy board. 

Taking some mental notes, Lanie concludes her self-guided tour in the kitchen and then her bedroom. She's still full from yesterday's feast, having eaten more actual food in that one meal than she's had in the weeks prior--and no digestive problems yet! Finding the dog bowl in the drying rack, she gets herself some water (lapping it up still feels strange) and then heads to the bedroom to pick up the magic pen. Next, she goes towards the basement, towards the faint sounds and smells of activity, trusting that Dominic would have specified if he didn't want her to go down there. She intended on walking down the staircase slowly and casually, but on all fours and at that downward angle she soon discovers that it's more comfortable to descend rather quickly. 

The descent shows the building becoming more and more militarized as Lanie descends. Going from at least a veneer of militarized construction to all pretenses being thrown out of the window and a sharp contrasting shift to pure military bomb shelter type construction about 10 feet down the spiral staircase that goes to a depth, that if Lanie knew it, was built to survive a nuclear attack on the city. Of course there was nothing you could do if you were in the crater, but Dominic had prepared as best he could. At the base of the stairs was a far more obvious observational set up as well, an array of cameras, biometric and redundant layers of security in keypads, locks, and even a door jam in front of what had to be at least a 12 inch thick titanium or something to that effect door. If she descends to the point those cameras can see her, a heavy machine gun will lower from the ceiling momentarily before retracting as Dominic would say through speakers,

"Ah. You're awake! My apologies. Automated security being what it is, I have to manually disable it when it activates in response to motion. I will begin unlocking procedures for the door, stand back, there's some escaping gas from the pressurized lock that is a bit uncomfortable." 

With that, the mechanisms on the door would begin to operate like some form of security rube goldberg machine, levers lifting door jams, machines beeping in affirmation, and a violent jet of pressurized gas escaping before eventually the door to the bunker would lay open for Lanie. Showing off what looked to be a combination underground lab and storage room. Honestly, it wasn't a wonder that Dominic was always looking for profit opportunities even with his skills if he was running something like this; the electricity bill had to be astronomical.

This is more like it... Lanie thinks as the surroundings shift and she sees the door at the bottom. The sudden appearance of the machine gun fills her with a rush of adrenaline as she bites the (thankfully metal) pen harder while crouching down, immediately ready to dart to one side and then book it back up the staircase--a reaction that required nearly zero time and conscious consideration, surprising herself. The gun's retraction accompanied by Dominic's voice brings her posture and ears back up, although her heart continues to pound. What if he was still asleep?! She goes back up the stairs a bit, unsure of how far away is far enough, does a full body shake to reset herself, and then watches the door unlock with fascination.

Finally entering the bunker, the damp dog uses the magic pen and Dominic's (far more convenient) bugged phone to say, "Good morning. How did you sleep?" She certainly hoped that under these inconceivably secure conditions the man could get some genuine rest--if he had to sleep at all. 

There is a bed, a military-style cot, and rows of buckets that contain high-calorie dense food and water. It's conceivable that Dominic may do the bulk of his living down here from the 2-3 that are open and empty here. There are also a number of large jugs of water, and filtration systems, along with rows of boxes with caduceus on them. Also yes, indeed, there is a TON of cocaine. The smells in the area are cotton, some small amount of blood, some well used latrines. However, when she attempts to speak to him through the phone she'll notice through her ability to smell that the device was most certainly not on Dominic's person any longer from the smell of metal rather than a person being the prevailing scent near it, and she'd hear through a speaker being spoken back through to her,

"Apologies, but I don't feel comfortable with anything bugged actually on my person. I have the phone in a digitally monitored safe. Spent most of last night rigging the speakers and such inside and threading the cables through the holes drilled in the safe. Go down the hallway and turn right, I'll disable the security on the blast door once you're through."

Lanie nods, assuming Dominic can see her. Goodness, he certainly went to a lot of trouble on my account. But she appreciated the effort he'd gone to to navigate the tensions between trust and paranoia. She obediently follows her insane, hospitable host's instructions.

The hallway turns to the final barrier, being a massive door with no apparent opening mechanism. Like a vault door, but somewhat different, with a number of strange pipes running along it's side. In addition to all the cables networking themselves straight to here, it is as obvious as breathing that this is the central nexus of Dominic's operation. The nerve center where all of his many irons in the fire are connected, and as Lanie approaches there will be another audible hiss of air. A second literal air gap between him and atomic warfare, redundant and unnecessary by scientific standards, but something that Dominic had apparently decided on as the door would raise and reveal the center of the area. Dominic, standing up from an array of monitor screens and about a dozen or so interfacing devices, and a slew of about 6 teddy bear like creatures all wearing scrubs and transferring cocaine from one package to another once it had been cut with what looks to be baby powder. 

As Lanie entered Dominic would approach only to poke his head out momentarily, as if scanning to see if she was followed, and then saying,

"Good, it looks like they didn't pounce on the chance to breach my inner sanctum. Come in, come in Lanie. Did you sleep well?"

Dominic in his natural habitat, the dog ponders as the final door opens. Lanie enters as the potent chemical and fruity, flowery smells of the powdered cocaine and baby powder hit her, causing her to sneeze several times in a row the moment Dominic finishes his question.

"Y-yeah, like, really well," she finally answers, glancing at the screens; the monstrous teddy bears that have tendril-like arms, compound eyes, and strange digitigrade legs; and then their work. While her ears are alert, the tail and head are both low, signaling her mild discomfort. "You?"

"Busy night, dark web orders come in, I process them. Even if they come in at 2 AM on a day that we'd agreed that there'd be no shipments. Problem with dealing with people willing to break the law for money, you end up with people who don't care much about established rules. It's whatever, there's already an anonymous tip going out to where this is going to be delivered and the teddy bears don't have any DNA or fingerprints the cops can trace." 

Dominic would say with a sigh, and then turn to Lanie properly from looking at the teddy bears as he spoke to continue with

"Unfortunately, they're not in great shape as you can see though. I give them the work I can because they get antsy if they aren't doing anything and I need to give them something else to focus on besides their tragic pasts. Once I have them.. able.. to function in more traditional ways I was thinking of having them start a horror themed YouTube channel or something."

How much Dominic needs to sleep continues to be a mystery. "I can't imagine there's a five-star rating system for a buyer to express their displeasure if a shipment arrives slower than they'd have liked..."

The idea of the teddy bears doing something else other than contributing to the existing drug addiction and mental health issues of the United States perks the dog up. She would have done the favor even if they'd continue in this trade, but entertaining YouTube videos didn't violently grate against her professional and moral inclinations. "So, do they have names?" Lanie asks as she slowly approaches the backside of a plushie that has tendril arms, wondering how to get its attention (and how much it is listening to their discussion).

Dominic didn't seem to have much problem with the idea of selling cocaine to random people, hell, he'd even already given his opinion on the substance itself viewing it as nothing more than a very powerful tool, as likely to hurt someone who didn't understand it as an angle grinder. Whether or not that was a sane position to hold was another matter entirely, but he'd answer her question coherently enough at least with,

"Ah, not originally. No. I've given them names but they aren't terribly familiar with them. I'll be happy to give you their names, but also as a reminder. They can't talk. All that intelligence and ability packaged into a body that can't express itself through anything but body language. I've tried to teach them writing, but, it's taking a hot minute. Either way. Names. Starting from left to right." 

He'd go down the row, naming them. Rush, Jack, George, Busch, John, Frank, Kennedy.

Lanie had apparently approached Busch. "Yes, I remember..." On the one hand, having difficulties communicating one's wants and needs might be extremely frustrating. On the other, if one never had the space to have wants and needs, well, it was possible that this issue hasn't come up for them, yet. One thing at a time. 

"Busch, may I have your attention for a few minutes?" Lanie asks while poking the teddy bear's non-monstrous, fabric shoulder with her damp nose. That Lanie's gentle voice comes through the speakers of the monitor is a bit disconcerting. Being that close and fully attentive (as she always is to a future or current patient), the dogtor notices something else: They have heartbeats.

The teddy bear turns towards her and seems apprehensive at first but then seems to reconsider as if it realized that it was a teddy bear and that a talking dog really shouldn't seem strange to it. It approaches her and stand at attention. A slightly haunted look lingered in the glossy black eyes of the creature as it looked towards the colossal cloud of a dog before it, as if it was looking through Lanie rather than directly at her despite the angle. 

Dominic meanwhile would sigh, and turn to the computer and pull up a dossier file. Documenting a series of issues in dry, clinical, terms but showcasing that Dominic had at least been documenting the various PTSD episodes and triggers as he would say

"Busch is one of the one's that had it the toughest.. hard to work with him because they can't talk but I hope you can do something to help them."

Lanie (pen still in mouth) reviews paperwork on the screen, skimming it quickly by telekinetically scrolling with the mouse. Busch has several conditions if these records are correct: at a minimum nightmares, a phobia of the dark, and violent, angry outbursts towards the others (excluding Dominic). 

"Thanks, now I know where I'm starting," the therapist concludes. "On the ride over here I experimented with my conversation power with Mel and learned that she needed to talk into a phone for that to work--so that option's ruled out." Lanie returns her attention to the teddy bear that is still standing at attention. "Okay Busch--like, be at ease please. Just try to relax and take a few deep breaths. Focus on, uh, something bright maybe... how about that light if it makes you any calmer--or close your eyes. I promise I'm here to try to help..." 

Having supernaturally healed the minds of nearly a hundred clients in the past--including several Contractors--Lanie knows what removing each of these three issues feels like. 

In general when the client begins to talk, it feels like they're guiding Lanie's hands, well, more like her soul towards themselves to touch their mind. The more they share, the more sensitive she becomes to the overall size, shape, weight, textures, and temperatures of their mental state--which cannot be perceived all at once but rather must be explored bit by bit, as each mind has many different facets.

For nightmares, the feeling is distinctly cool, hard, and tangled, like layers of tree roots covering a portion of the surface. Rather heavy too once tugged loose, maybe because such an issue is more on the subconscious than the conscious. However, Busch could share nothing, so this would have to be all on Lanie.

The dog sits right beside the bear, closes her eyes, and focuses on the being beside her. Heart beat. Breath. The shifting of Busch's weight, probably a sign of his discomfort. The still overwhelming smell of cocaine in the room and also the smells this creature--mild salty sweat and body odor. To reach beyond to what is undeniably there yet unseen, just like Lanie's telekinesis but with a different kind of mental hands into the murky darkness...

A very faint, ethereal silver halo appears around the head of the dog--a jagged kind made up of overlapping wispy lines that constantly shift. At the same time, a pitch black ethereal halo appears around Busch's head (which physically feels like nothing). If Lanie notices this development, she doesn't react.

The teddy bear tenses, his haunches rearing back for a moment like he intended to pounce. One of those angry outbursts taken to an extreme at someone getting so up into his business, but as he feels the halo begin to form and sees the genuine compassion in Lanie's eyes he will retract his advance. Muscles un-tensing, fur settling down as the soothing influence of the mend trauma went to work the creature not seeming to understand but at least not being openly combative however as the silver halo would come into contact with the black one it became apparent from the initial sparks of mental energy that this was going to take some doing and as time went on Busch seemed to go from being somewhat relaxed to becoming more anxious. The initial impact was only going to last so long after all, and it seemed that with each spark there was some part of him that was afraid or resistant to the idea of changing even if it was for the better. Dominic meanwhile would look on in earnest, he had never seen this process before himself and found himself briefly wondering if this is what a holocaust survivor's halo looked like then what would someone far worse like Mark Zuckerberg's halo look like? His mental unhinged nature was actively polluting the minds of billions after all, but he would keep his concerns to himself. They could be vocalized later after all, one didn't topple Facebook in an evening, so he would merely choose to gather the other teddy bears and have them observe. He believed in Lanie, and knew that seeing was believing for something like this. Otherwise, no one would believe him even if he told them.

About ten minutes later, Busch's halo suddenly expands and thickens, Lanie's retracts, and the onlookers feel a small wave of energy flow out from the two across the room. Then both halos vanish as the supernatural session abruptly ends. The damp Samoyed does a full-body shake before moving a bit away from her patient. She also telekinetically moves the pen from her mouth to be clipped onto her collar before speaking (still through the monitor's speakers) in a gentle, professional tone: "Thank you for being willing to try that out with me, Busch. I respect your choice to hold onto the nightmares. I would never want to force any changes onto you--it's your mind, not mine. If there's anything you'd like me to help you with concerning your mental health, you can let me know--just, um, tap me on the paw three times. And, like, if I'm not here, you can tap Dominic on the shoe three times and he'll reach out to me." With that wrapped up, Lanie looks around. Her serious gaze lingers on Dominic for a moment, as though she has something to say to him, before she turns her attention to the half circle of teddy bears. "It's possible that I can help you with your mental health issues, if you're willing. That includes compulsions, phobia, nightmares, and other things." Despite being at the unknown edge of her supernatural skills, Lanie is clearly in her element. "The past doesn't need to be forgotten, as it can strengthen and shape us in beautiful ways." She briefly looks at Busch. "But it also doesn't have to hold us back." Then, addressing everyone, "Please put a paw on me if you're open to letting me serve you today. My mental health services come without any fees or requirements--I'd be honored to help you find some peace and live your best life."

The other teddy bears look between each other for a moment, seeming to be more willing as Lanie explains that this isn't going to expunge the memory of what happened. Merely the damage that had been done. Each of them looking then at Dominic, and then at the piles of cocaine for a moment and seem to make a decision as they come up one by one and place their hands onto the dogtor. The halos that alight each blazing in a different colored corona, though each of them was blighted by the blackness that was the malady known as mental illness to most. Surviving a horrible tragedy scars us all in different ways it seems. Then, they all turn at once to look at Dominic. A sort of expectant look that tinges on slightly annoyed he isn't already over here in their body language that the maddened hacker seems to understand. Dominic balks for a moment saying "What?! Just because the people online say it doesn't mean I'm actually crazy... but fine. I saw Lanie look too and I can't say no to ALL of you." He'd say before approaching and placing a hand on Lanie, his own halo showing up and while it was relatively clean in an astounding display that defied some logic there were two sharp, clean, breaks. Lanie detected no delusion based paranoia, none of the maladies from tragedy that blighted others. Just, the harms of life, Dominic's insane behavior seems to be learned patterns more than trauma responses. The vagaries of life having worn this man down in little ways over his entire existence to shape him into this, putting him a step beyond the current magic. Though there were two clean breaks. Deliberate and sudden, like they had happened all at once, and those strange wounds carried two burdens she could lift.

As each being sets a hand on Lanie, surrounding her with their scents and heart rates and minor movements, the dogtor reaches out with her mind. She has two "mental hands" for telekinesis, but what are the limits to her ability to mend the mind? What is her maximum capacity? She starts to count and then considers it a waste of time, instead focusing on perceiving the many multifaceted sensations--on making sense of unknown, slowly revealing landscapes simultaneously--with a mix of curiosity and excitement. After a few minutes, Lanie's voice comes through the monitor again although the dog seated in the middle of this crowd with eyes shut is motionless. The halos remain. "Thank you for trusting me. It seems I can help all of you at the same time. Each full session, focusing on a single thing, will take about eight hours--and I'll need to be close to you like we are now. But before that I'd like to make sure everyone is comfortable. Dominic, should we move this to the upstairs couch maybe--or the guest bedroom?"

The teddy bears would nod, feeling that the experience had not exactly been hostile. Intelligent creatures are able to recognize a hospitable environment when they see one after all and Lanie was anything but hostile. Dominic would chuckle as she made the suggestion, as the idea that lizard people ran the world now seemed a bit silly to him but he'd roll his eyes still believing his was largely going along with this to humor the group as he'd say "I'd say the guest bedroom. My mother did buy the most ridiculous blankets. Insisted that people should feel like they're sleeping on a cloud when they're here as our goal should be to make them feel like they're in heaven. I suppose I should be thanking her about now." He said with a chuckle, knowing well enough that Lanie only meant well. With many others he would've sent them packing a long time ago. He'd already done the same with a few mundane therapists back in the day. Though he would turn and press some buttons to undo the bulkhead door in the bunker, he would gesture for the teddy bears to follow out and up to the soon-to-be cuddle pile.

And a cuddle pile it was on the massive winter comforter atop the queen-sized bed: dog in the center, Dominic laying down (?) on one side, and monstrous sapient teddy bears above, below, and beside her--including two partially on Dominic--each with their own pillow if they desired. Despite a couple of tentacles and claws being on her, the most comfortable one by far as they get situated is the dog who--even as an asexual and aromantic human--cuddled her best friends in the shared spaces like living room couches (and sometimes even in the private spaces like beds). However, as soon as Lanie restarts the treatment and the halos reappear, the feelings of awkwardness and anxiety ever so gently wash away--not forcefully like emotional control but instead like a suggestion of comfort and ease that each one considers and then willingly accepts. In fact, as the second session progresses all of the patients--really a friend and friends of friends in her eyes--feel a growing sense of inner peace. A few teddies fall asleep within the first hour, and a few more in the second, and the rest by the third (Busch being the last one)--a deep and refreshing rest like many of them have never known.

It took two more days of this kind of cuddle therapy, for each teddy bear had multiple mental health issues. However, when the task was finally finished it was clear in how they wordlessly interacted that a great burden had been lifted from each one of them. For the remainder of Lanie's stay, Dominic and her finished up the plans to make "Dr. Alice Decker" legally dead. Her genius host also helped her manage a dog pack inventory and created a custom collar that met her needs (and, to an extent, Dominic's). With a little telekinetic nudge, Lanie could easily access all of the magical pen's effects which was hidden inside the center of the collar. The dog accessory also included a built in speaker, a transponder that can be activated to send her location to him as an emergency rescue method, and a spool of wire that could be used as a wire saw (which she didn't find necessary but the additional thought was sweet, and hopefully it gave Dominic some peace of mind). For no specific reason to Lanie's knowledge, Dominic also gifted her a truth serum and oddly dangerous, supernatural cufflinks.

Next, the two proceeded with the pseudo-suicide plan. Lanie, as a dog, flew to Terry's office in Idaho, where he pulled numerous human teeth, set them aside, then promptly restored her mouth. Then she travelled to Los Angeles, also as a dog but transformed back soon after arriving, to attend another Pepsi-sponsored event as Dr. Alice Decker, new Pepsi mascot and Illuminated supernatural pony-being, before heading back to Dominic under (fluffy) cover. Really, she didn't want her name to show up as a passenger and then the FBI get alerted--perhaps paranoia and perhaps not.

---

Six days after Alice returned from her most recent Contract (five after she fought with Jason and then promptly left town):

As Jason exits the Crypt with Violet in the morning to get some breakfast burritos, his phone pings. He received a voicemail from Abbas's burn phone, the one Alice has been borrowing indefinitely because she's too paranoid to get her own after the Texas incident.

"Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I finished helping a friend in need of my services. Also, so that it doesn't catch you off guard, any day now a Pepsi ad is going out worldwide and I'm, uh, starring it as like a new, supernatural mascot." A pause. "That was my most recent job, and, like, now I'm going to clean it up. Give Violet a hug for me and tell her I love her--oh, and please delete message."

---

While Lanie took care of her dental visit and final acting gig, Dominic surreptitiously hired a towing service to pick up Lanie's cheap, old, dented Toyota Corolla from the neighborhood of the Detroit Crypt and deliver it several blocks away from his safehouse so that, upon the dogtor's return, she could drive across several states to get to a hardly used field beside a hardly used road, read a suicide note to a camcorder, and then "take her own life" via fire. Driving was extremely uncomfortable for her, as someone who never drove regularly before, but she managed to get to the location without any accidents.

---

A video clearly taken from a camcorder of a woman the world now knows to be Alice Decker, the new Pepsi mascot and recently Illuminated supernatural person (who can turn into a real-life version of a My Little Pony and use telekinesis). She seems unusually calm, almost emotionless.

"A couple of days ago, I realized that I'm not who I should be, who I really am, but that I can free myself and step into my true form--a different form--through death. These flames aren't going to be the end, but the beginning. I know that I will return and finally become who I was always meant to be and do the things I was meant to do--a chance to live the life that I should have all along. Darling, your love these past few months has made me stronger. It has given me the strength to tear down--to burn to the ground--so that I can rebuild. I hope that you find peace in your current form or the next, with or without me."

Running Low

Minerva's phone rings about ten minutes after she initially called the supposedly powerful woman she knows as "Alice." It might register in her mind that it's a confidential call as the caller profile is now the head of a white fluffy Samoyed (not a paw print icon) and the name is now "Lanie/Alice." 

Minerva lies in her bed, trying to stay calm.  It was all going to be fine.  It always had been before, right?  She'd been on ten of these jobs in just about six months, and it was fine.  She was fine.  They were going to go out, and find Mars, and bring her home safe, and it would be fine. The young foxgirl jumps some as her phone rings, and she picks it up, looking at it and nodding a bit.  At least she recognized it this time.  She answers it, and then.. "Lanie?"

"Minerva, I need to apologize for forgetting to contact you after the ritual. Obviously I'm alive, and I'm also de-cursed now. It's been..." Lanie sighs. "... a life."

"It's okay.  I'm glad you're de-cursed!  And...I'm sorry about that.  Can I help at all?"  She wiggles her nose some, just staring at the ceiling. She had her own issues, of course, but Alice was going out of her way to help her.  She should at least do anything she could to help in response.

Could she? "Thanks for offering. Nothing comes to mind at the moment--" a lie, the first one Minerva's heard her tell "Well, nothing of high enough priority." The truth. "I still have a demon to tame and a frien--husband to de-curse, but one thing at a time." Another sigh. "Anyways, from now on, I'm 'Lanie.' I've just shed the 'Alice' identity. Hopefully that won't make too big of a splash on the news, when they find out." 

Minerva tilts her head to the side just a little at that lie, and then nods slightly after.  "Okay.  After, then..."  She makes a mental note to get out of Alice what she could help with, and then do so.  She owed Alice already.  She could understand that maybe she wasn't strong enough to help tame a demon or such, but surely there was something to do.

"...Ah.  Okay..." She takes a moment.  "Lanie.  Okay. " There's a pause, as gears turn in the young girl's head, but it doesn't quite come to the right conclusion.  She'd seen the Pepsi commercials, but.. she didn't make the link.  That, and she wasn't a big Pepsi drinker.  Stuck to her teeth.  Half a conclusion, though.  "Why'd you shed the name Alice? I think Alice is a nice name."

Lanie answers slowly. "The Alice identity is tied to two people who are wanted by the FBI, one who is suspected for brutally murdering an FBI agent and the other who is suspected of helping a cop-killer escape execution. Neither of my friends are guilty of the charges, but its best I step away from them both physically and legally for now until they figure out how to handle their situations. Basically, I don't want to drown in the waves of their messes."

"...Oh."

A pause. "Plus, 'Lanie' is part of my original name. It feels better."

"...Okay, Lanie.  Lanie is a nice name too.  And I hope your friends sort out their issues!  And it doesn't come back on you.  ...I hope helping me doesn't make any trouble for you." 

"No more trouble than I want to take on. To be honest, you caught us at a good time. Albert and I were just leaving the scene of Alice's 'death' and I had forgotten to destroy this borrowed phone. That being said, you can't reach me by that number anymore, but here's the new one..." She reads it out slowly once Minerva's ready to type it down. "Part of my delay in getting back to you was my busyness, but the other part was that I was waiting on some things. To catch you up, my four friends went to the scene of the crime and followed a trail to their closest safehouse in Goshen, which by the time they got there was very trapped and abandoned. Albert did most of the work, including getting all the evidence and information, and advised that I dismiss the other two from the investigation given how little help they provided--and the third one left before the investigation really began because a sniper almost took him out as he snooped around the police station on his own." A pause. "He's fine now--I hired a friend to restore his eye. It's taken a while for Albert to recover the data from the wiped and broken hard drives. In the meantime, I've recruited one more person to join us: a professional bodyguard and quite possibly a mercenary named Amarjeet Interpal--one of us."

"Okay... as long as you're sure."  She nods after.  "Okay..."  She takes a moment to write the number down in her phone before going back to listening.  "Mmm."  She still feels a little annoyed she hadn't gotten a chance to help with that!  But there was nothing to do about it now.  "Ah, and-  oh!"  She says as soon as the sniper is mentioned.  "Is he-  Oh.  Good.  ...A sniper..." She shivers a bit.  Scary.  What could one do against a sniper?  At least he survived. 

She nods again.  "Okay, and that's good!"  A professional bodyguard sounded great, really.  She quickly googles them, and then... "...Oh."   She'd seen this video before.  "Um... is she good at her job?"

Lanie's mind goes back to the same video that Minerva's watching. "My bet is that she's advanced over time, like we all have. Mark Collins recommended her, so I'm willing to find out how skilled she is. Plus, I'm already pulling heavily on my Network to take down a sapient, powerful demonic being that recently attempted to murder my daughter and continues to curse my husband--an endeavor that's scheduled for late next week. With one friend uninterested due to the sniper incident and the other two dismissed," and Iryna dead, and Mark Collins tied up in legal trouble, and Jason Valent missing, and Bu Fang being mentally and emotionally unstable "I'm running low on people to pull in." 

"...That's fair, we all have, and-  Wait, you know Mark Collins?  Wait, is he one of us too?" Minerva blinks a few times.    When her her mother told her she could grow up to be like The Mother of Dragons or Mark Collins... maybe she really could be.   But really, Alice  Lanie knew everyone!    They were like the godfather or something.  "...I'm sure they're very skilled, then..."  A sapient, powerful demonic being.  Wow.  "...Can I help at all with that?   I'm not very strong, but I have some abilities..."

Lanie blinks. It wasn't obvious that Mark Collins was a Contractor like the rest of them? She had pieced that together since her very first job, during a conversation with the harbinger. "Lets try to survive this first task--one thing at a time." It wasn't a yes, and it wasn't a no. "I'm confident that with Albert and Amarjeet co-leading, we have a solid shot at extracting Mars, assuming she wants to leave. That being said, have you been able to touch bases with her in the dreamworld or otherwise?" 

"...Okay." She nods some.  "That's good, and... no.  Typically I can reach her in the dreamworld, but... there's no link anymore, it's unstable.  I guess... I guess I kinda use my amulet as a crutch in some ways, and I think hers was taken from her.  So I can't reach her.  I'm sure she'll want to be rescued, though.. and... and I know they can mess with memories, but.. I think I can too.  I think I can fix them."

"Oh?" That wasn't on this list of supernatural skills that Minerva had originally provided. "Is there anything else you'd like to share with me?" An open invitation to self-disclose whatever the girl considered important. Assuming the principal consented to it, they would soon walk into something exceedingly dangerous together. Better to know more than less. 

"Umm....   I've... I've just been getting stronger.  I can put people to sleep... and go dreamwalking... and pass though walls and doors if I focus enough, and.. I don't know, I've been practicing just a little, it's like... I can influence people to accept me as long as I'm not the focus of attention."  She scratches behind an ear.    "I.. think that's it?"

Lanie adds these three to the mental list. "My ally was right when they recommended you to join the Network. They described you as 'very capable in your magical and physical capabilities.'"

Minerva smiles a bit at the compliment.  "... I'm glad!  I'm sure it's nothing compared to the rest of your allies, but... I'm getting stronger!  Maybe in another six months I'll be as strong as some of them."  She nods.  Very capable!  Yay.  She glows a little at the compliment. Literally.

"On my end," Lanie continues, "since we last spoke I've almost fully shed my human form along with my identity. This comes with pros and cons, but I've been preparing for it since I started on these jobs."

She nods a little.  "... I understand that. Human form sucks.  I have too... even if I need to go back into it when I go out because people are lame."  Minerva doesn't think too deeply on it past that - she'd shed her human form too!

"People are... complicated," Lanie answers in partial agreement. "I'm glad you're finding your way. Now, one last thing before I reach out to Principal Wolstenhome and then Amarjeet. I'm considering attempting to call Mars without directly revealing who we are and that we're all on our way to her, as I'm not sure how much memory reading and manipulation is happening on her end. What would you like me to tell her, if I reach her? The same thing you said before about you not wanting to play second fiddle?"

There's a pause. "Mmm." She comments, and then tilts her head to the side. "....Somehow I doubt she has a phone. Does she need a phone? And.. yes, that's probably the best thing to tell her. She'll know it was from me, at least..."

"Any electronic device that sends and receives audio will work, even a two-way radio or an Airpod or something, so long as its in her possession. It can even be dead or broken. We'll see. I don't expect to reach her, but I can't think of any massive downsides from trying to. Anyways, we'll be in touch."

"Okay..." She wasn't sure Mars would have any of those. "How long? It needs to be soon, doesn't it? Or they'll move safe houses..."

"We'll need to swing by Albert's house to pick up the explosives. Aside from that, can you travel on your own or do we need to pick you up?"

"Umm... I can.. typically arrange transport.... If you're passing by, though, travelling with you would be nice..."

"We aren't passing through Massachusetts; that would add 20 hours to the drive to pick you up. Let me confirm that you're coming with your principal. Assuming it's a yes, you can meet us at the Minneapolis airport, and we'll drive the rest of the way from there."

"... She said I could go if I went with someone else already!" She huffs a little. "But okay... I can make my way there."

"Indeed, our conversation should be quick and seamless," Lanie states. "Talk to you soon." The call ends. 

An Indirect Call

A teenager, a drone, a Samoyed, three bloodhounds, and a husky occupy the living room. The hostage was moved to the guest bedroom (still under supernatural surveillance), freeing up the couch for Minerva, her dog, and Lanie. The drone rests on the close by coffee table with Albert's dog seated on the floor at the base of the couch beside Minerva (hoping for more pets). The other two dogs are playfully wrestling and pseudo-fighting over a dog toy rope in the middle of the carpeted floor. 

"I'll do my best to share what Mars says word for word," the dogtor explains while looking at Minerva, the woman's voice coming though the speaker on the dog collar, "but if she says a lot, I'll have to summarize. The same goes for you unless you share what you want to say in chunks. I'm basically the translator, as my ability wasn't designed for an audience."

Minerva wiggles her nose, the freckled teenager nodding.  "Okay."

The dog nods. Then she closes her eyes and begins to breathe deeply...

Around noon, Mars receives a phone call on whatever device she has on her, even if it's turned off, broken, or out of the cell service range. The caller is somehow saved on the device as "Indirect Call from Minerva" and the profile picture is the silver fox pendant.

It takes a few rings, but right when you’re worried she might not pick up, you hear the dark, smooth, almost patronizing voice of Umbra ring back, loud and clear, no interference or background noise. “I’ve been wondering when you’d call. Enjoy my little gift? I figured maybe if you had her, you’d stop running around after me.”

Lanie sighs. "Hello Mars. You can call me Sam. As I tried to indicate through caller ID, this is an indirect call from Minerva. She didn't know how to get ahold of you, so I offered to help. If you'd like to talk to her directly, I can give you a number to call. Otherwise, I'll be the middleman passing along what each of you say--not as convenient or direct but potentially functional. What would you prefer?" 

“Oh this line of communication is perfectly fine for the time being.”

"Alright, just be patient then--hold on."

Lanie then says to Minerva, "She wants to know if you 'enjoyed her gift' and if you're done going after her."

Minerva wiggles her nose a little.  "Tell her that it... uh, it wasn't what I was hoping for. I didn't want revenge or anything. I wanted Mars safe."  She hesitates.  "And... tell her that there's something wrong with the body she's in, and the book she's using.  They're corrupting."  There's a pause. "Tell her that we should talk in person.  So she'll know what I'm saying is true."

Lanie repeats what Minerva says word for word, at a slightly halting pace as she balances both listening and 'speaking'.

She waits, and she listens. “Hm. A chance to talk to Minerva, in person, with all of you on my terms? An interesting offer. And what is it that you all get from this, telling me I’m in a 'corrupt' body?”

Lanie pauses. "Speaking for myself here, I'm personally not getting much from 'this' beyond knowing that I've done my best to help you two resolve whatever's going on between you, and I'm not actually sure Minerva wants a crowd--although I suppose it might be necessary if there's no trust between the two parties... let me check." 

"She wants to know if the meeting will be on her terms, if we will be there--not sure if she's aware of who we are and how many of us are helping you. And she wants to know what you'd get from meeting with her."

Minerva waits for the response, fidgeting a little.  As Lanie speaks, she listens, and considers.  She suddenly swallows, realizing exactly how badly it could go.  "...If her terms are reasonable... I guess.  And I just want to.. I want her to believe me when I speak to her."  There's a pause.  "Uh.  Maybe just a phone call? As long as we're speaking directly I think it would work. And I'm sure she can... use a burner phone or something if she's worried." Lanie nods. 

"Your terms would have to be reasonable. Minerva just wants to make it possible for you to know that she's telling the truth, so a phone call between you both would work if you're willing. To clarify, I contacted you using telepathy--your phone is acting as a focus for my ability, but I don't actually have your number. Oh, and she suggests using a burner phone to ensure your privacy." Lanie pauses. "If you agree to a call, I'd do my best to ensure your privacy as well." (the truth) 

“Here’s my offer for you. I have something I want to show her, so have her arrive at the following coordinates in two days time. She can bring her associates, but do know that any attempts at interference or ambush will be met with violent force.”

Lanie repeats the offer word for word.

Minerva wiggles her nose a little, listening to the offer.  "...Ask her if anyone is going to get hurt there, us or other people."

The dogtor opens her dark brown eyes, looks at Minerva, and snorts softly. "I can't detect lies like you can, especially if the person's far away. Maybe we should just state our terms instead of asking her? Or do you trust that she'll tell the truth?"

The young girl looks to the side.  "...Maybe?  Or...  I don't know.  People believe me when I'm telling the truth.  You'll know if she's telling the truth.  If you have doubts after, she's probably not..." She scratches behind an ear. "Or... what do you think are terms?  That nobody, including us, gets hurt at it and both sides get to leave if we want?"

Lanie now turns to the drone. "Does that sound sufficient, Albert?"

"I'd say that you should at least bring one of my wards, and if it were up to me. I wouldn't trust them as far as you can throw them, but similarly. A back and forth nuclear war isn't in anyone's interests right now. They've hurt us, we've established we can hurt them even if they run as I have no doubt they saw what happened to Wumbratainment. Part of why I wanted her blind folded, woman was clearly seeing through her eyes in that moment she snatched your pendant. No telling how far that one goes, but regardless. We have swung, they have swung, neither side has a clear advantage. If you really want terms and peace. This is the cheapest time to buy it."

Lanie nods to the drone and then shuts her eyes again, still breathing deep and ears up with alertness. 

"Okay Mars. We agree that an ambush and other forms of interfering would be breaching the temporary truce. We'd also like to add on that no one--including Minerva, her allies, or the public--is harmed before, during, and after the interaction. And also that both sides will be allowed to leave without any issues at any point. So, no using the meeting to either side's strategic advantage, no one gets hurt, and anyone can leave whenever without any trouble. You and your group will have the exact same terms as us." She pauses to figure out how to word the last part right, just in case the wording mattered. "Do you and your group agree to these three things?"

“Hmmm…. Sounds fair enough to me,” Mars replies. Lanie repeats what Mars said.

"..."  There's a short pause.   "Ask her if she's going to be fair."

The dog nods. "And the members of her group too, right?"

"Yeah, and them..."

“Your group, nor any of the forgotten are to be harmed on these premises. And for that you have my word.” And you know it to be true.

"And the public. Please tell me that the public--the normals--will not be harmed on the premises," Lanie asks gently.

“There will be no “normals” on the premises.”

"Alright. What's the coordinates?"

She gives you a set of coordinates. They are to a school, that Minerva will know and dread. The old mundane private school her parents sent her to before the contracts. The school is currently closed due to an infestation of some sort.

After Lanie tells her the coordinates well, they probably don't mean anything to Minerva.  Who knows the coordinates of one of their old schools?  But once Albert looks them up...  "...Why there?"  Minerva asks. It wasn't... it wasn't that terrible.  No more than anything else, really...Or at least she told herself that.

The dog looks over at Minerva and says patiently, "Are you asking her that, us that, or yourself that?"

"Yes."

"Lets start with Mars then." Lanie passes on the question.

“You’ll have to wait and see. I’m in the body of an artist, so I am going to act like one.” And the line goes dead.

Lanie repeats the last thing Mars says and adds, "She's gone now." The dog's deep breathing returns to normal. She does a light shake to reset herself, several small white dog hairs shedding off in the process.

"So, why there, Minerva?" 

She hesitates, wiggling her nose.  "I... don't know. I didn't hate it there.  No more than I hated anything else, at least..."

"She said she's going to do art there. I doubt that's going to be an actual art installation. If you both hated it there, then maybe destruction of the place."

"...Maybe?  I.. don't have any particular hate for it there.  I guess I wouldn't... really object to it burning down -"  Does that make her a bad person?  Maybe... "-But... it's not like I'd go out of my way to do it.  I know intellectually it wasn't really the school's fault..."

"Art can be symbolic." A pause. "I have no issues with a school burning down if no one gets hurt. But if she does want to do that, I suspect she'll want to do or show something else as well." 

Albert, from his drone proxy, chimes in. "Never go anywhere without preparation is my advice, and given your history of hating a place the clone may love it given their strange mirrored ideals. Still, this is an attempt at armistice. If there is any honesty in her words, failing this attempt egregiously enough will mean war." 

"It really depends. Mel and I love a lot of the same things actually--it's just what we want to change in the world and how to go about it that's starkly different..."

"Strange," Albert replies, "but I suppose that's something I should be glad I don't know. A clone of myself would be.. most undesirable. We do possess an anti-interference tactic as well on that topic though, and you do still have methods of supernatural exfiltration correct?"

Ensure the strength of the government and that all conspiracy groups--real or not--stay strong and hidden, Lanie thinks to herself as she audibly chuckles at the idea of an opposite of Dominic.

Minerva wiggles her nose, and nods a bit.  "That's fair.  Unless she's hurting anyone it's probably best if we don't interfere."  She listens some, and then nods.  "Yes, I do... I still have them..."

"They require about 6 seconds and a functioning door to work. The school should have plenty ... I can invite someone to come along who can supernaturally detect if an area is trapped or if there's an ambush. We do have 'anti-interference tactics' if you're referring to your capabilities, Albert, on at least some of them and concerning electronics. In terms of being outnumbered, I can summon a guard animal--that is, it's a supernatural one that can be re-summoned again and again." Lanie looks across the room at the four dogs, all who are now asleep in a cuddle pile on the ground. "I'd prefer we not put the real animals in harms way if we can help it. My friend can summon one as well, and I know where we can get one or two more. All of those horses will look odd if there are any onlookers though--but Mars said there would be no normals there... I suppose it could be more subtle if we asked Bu to transform them into something else..." 

"I would prefer not to kill real animals as well with all due respect," Albert replies. "It's tough enough doing what we have to do without having any harm that may come to them on our conscience. I would prefer not to kill the clones as well to be honest, they're ultimately victims of this 'Wondertainment' and the structure of the jobs behind all of this as much as anyone is. I wouldn't want to kill them if I had a say in it, but, similarly. I will fight to protect the innocent if they turn into the aggressors. It is the entire point of my mission, to eliminate shadow organizations like these and ensure that people need not worry about people wearing the faces of other people causing problems."

Minerva nods a little.  "That sounds super useful, about detecting an ambush. I've been trying to do something similar..." she nods a little. "I agree, we shouldn't risk the animals. Or kill them!" She nods again.  "We shouldn't kill anyone if we can help it."  She smiles at Albert.  It was good to know he agreed!  But... having to protect the innocent made sense too. 

Lanie nods in agreement as well. "Oh, speaking of which--please hold on a minute, Minerva."

Albert's phone (the one he put into a safe in the bunker which feeds into speaker) gets a call from Lanie, switching the conversation to be private between them. Minerva can see that the dog is breathing deeply now.

"I'd like to know the welfare of the sniper. What's his current condition? If he's still alive, I can arrange for whatever you've done to him to be undone and see if Bu is willing to transform him into a dog too. Seems more humane than keeping him in the bunker for all time."

Albert will hit a keyboard macro to switch audio feed "He is still alive... are you sure that you can trust this Bu with his containment? If this is the one who brought the dogs he's seemed.. reluctant to remain for long term assistance time and time again. If you just want him to transform the being and go from there that's fine, but... the subject was not cooperative and thus will need a fair amount of care. They're medically stable, but I've drugged them a few times in order to obtain information, and while their limbs can be regrown it will take about 30 days for the nanites to undo the damage they did to the subjects body."

Lanie winces as she hears 'I've drugged them a few times.' "Sadly, Bu's transformation similarly resets after about a month. But I don't know if I can handle another 'not cooperative' one with Wumbra already on my han--paws. ... Is he part robot? Can you, like, hack him into being cooperative?" It wasn't a pleasant idea but, then again, none of this was.

"It seems as though I'll have to design a manual rather than a timed release into the nanites responsible. It'll require expanding their alloted memory which at that size is already.. lean, but I'll do my best. As for hacking him. I have already done that, there about 9 contingency commands regarding all written permutations of the concept of violence being enacted on any of us.. benefit of my technical abilities not taking the largest amount of energy and me having already put a contingency into him during initial containment. You know me Lanie, I do not work in half measures. I just feel uncomfortable with the idea that your life would ride on how closely I adhered to technically correct wording."

"Bu is willing to do the reset indefinitely, but such a committment doesn't come for free--nor did I expect it to... Don't pressure yourself. I'll have Wumbra (and Mar's body) under control, and you'll keep the sniper. Thank you." The call ends and the dog looks over at Minerva. Speaking through the collar now: "Just sorting out the sniper's fate. Albert is going to continue to monitor and contain him, and I'll keep Wumbra, transformed."

Minerva tilts her head to the side as Lanie says that,  and she looks confused. "What am I holding on for?"  She can see Lanie start to pant.  It takes for a moment to clue in why both have gone silent.  "Hey!  Are you talking without me?  That's rude..."  She nods a little as it's explained.  "Is he okay?"

"He's medically stable, contained, and under Albert's control due to him being part robot and Albert being an excellent hacker--which is a big part of why he's staying here." The white fluffy Samoyed then walks across the couch to Minerva, sits right next to her, and then leans on her. "Sorry for being rude--I just wanted to spare you the unsettling details, if there were any."

The young girl watches Lanie walk over and lean against her,  and nods a bit.  "... were there any?" After a moment though she hugs the fluffy close.  "I wanna go back into my proper form.. but changing forms is super exhausting lately.  And I'm worried we're going out again soon."

The dog leans into her further, curly tail wagging lightly with a thump thump on the couch cushion. "Probably best to save your strength for now. Hopefully this will be resolved one way or another in two days." Lanie swiftly licks the teenager's hand and then moves back to her spot.

"Now you know that Mars is not in mortal danger, but that she's heading down a path that she might not have fully or knowingly chosen at the time. I know you'll do your best try to reach her... and at the same time, she is her own person and she may decide to stay the course no matter what you say. Please consider that you may be faced with the choice of pursuing her further after this meeting--likely on your own--or letting her go." Lanie looks over at the drone and then back at the girl before adding, "Assuming they don't commit further acts of blatant terrorism and other horrible acts that necessitates Albert and I and possibly others taking them down, one way or another."

"Yeah with all respect," Albert says, "no matter how old someone is committing terrorism or like, bombing a school, is pretty bad. Even if no one's there that still doesn't sit right with me. The message it sends is just wrong."

Minerva nods softly,  wiggling her nose. "... okay.   I'll... keep that in mind." She didn't know what to say. Would she be willing to pursue Mars even if they didn't want her help?  Did she have the right? "Thank you for everything you've done so far. Both of you."

"You're welcome, honey." The term of endearment slipped out, and, feeling a bit embarrassed by it, Lanie promptly hops off of the couch and walks away into the kitchen to carefully telekinetically bring down her water bowl from the counter, not wanting to share it with the other dogs. However, her movement results in the pile of sleeping canines in the middle of the living room to wake. Her two scramble up and follow her and that inspires the other two to get up and follow them. Seconds later, the Samoyed is growling softly, just barely baring her teeth at three bloodhounds and a husky who are all trying to get at her water--claiming it for herself as the alpha of the pack.

-------

A Child Kidnaping Case

Akira gets a call even if his phone is dead or on silent. The caller profile is somehow saved as "Alice/Lanie" and the photo shows the head of a white fluffy dog. 

Whilst watching a movie in his spare time, his phone was just in range for him to see the profile name change and now showing a Samoyed. Raising his eyebrow slightly before answering and placing his device near his ear, “Hello?”

"Hello Akira, this is Alice." It certainly sounded like Alice, and the voice coming from his phone is crystal clear. "However, 'Alice' is about to be legally dead and so I'm going by 'Lanie' now. Anyways, how are you?"

“Oh, hey, Alice… or Lanie. I’m doing alright… and I hope you are, too. I’m guessing that a legal name change meant that a contract didn’t go well, eh?”

"Multiple Contracts, actually. It was time. But I'm doing alright now, thanks. I'm even free of that curse that made me ill and bound to Detroit, although Jason isn't yet. But that's a whole other story... I called because of a colleague of yours, Minerva. You've been on a job or two with her, correct?" 

“Well, that’s nice, and I hope Jason’s alright, too. And Minerva? Yeah, I did… I think it was some time ago, but I remember her. Why’d ya ask?”

"I've been working with her over the past few weeks, and she's about to be in a situation that would really benefit from your skills and help. This is quite a story, so bear with me." The woman/dog takes a moment to order everything.

"Two weeks ago I did some personal investigation into a child kidnapping case in Goshen, Indiana--called some allies and strangers using my confidential communication power--and learned that a child Contractor, who is in fact the Minerva you'd recommended to the Network, had been cloned as part of a job. Soon after, her clone was kidnapped from a small town police station where both girls were waiting to get escorted home. The kidnappers displayed an impressive collection of supernatural powers, including memory manipulation, hacking, unlocking things, and possibly issuing commands to the police officers that they were compelled to follow. I found the whole thing to be concerning. A hacker and several others I reached out to, all who were interested in this case for various reasons, followed the trail and discovered that the kidnappers are, in fact, a terrorist group of cloned Contractors. 'Cloned' includes memories, powers, and even gear--the work of harbingers I'm sure. Next, the hacker found several of their hideouts and determined which one had Minerva's clone--and then a group of us got past a pile of traps in the house, neutralized a sniper, and retrieved Mars. This is why I asked to borrow your home charm--so that both girls could escape quickly. However, we soon realized that we have her clone's body with someone else's soul. Mars, Minerva's clone I mean, apparently used a supernatural item to body swap with another clone in the terrorist group, essentially escaping being a kidnappee and victim. We also learned from the person trapped in Mars' body that Mars is now trying to lead the clone terrorist group." Lanie pauses, trying to figure out how to get to the next part."

Lanie continues: "Minerva wants to try to reach a truce with Mars, and Mars has agreed to meet so they can talk face-to-face. Best case scenario, the two girls agree to never dabble in each other's affairs again or Mars leaves the terrorist group and comes home with Minerva. Worst case scenario, the face-to-face meeting is a trap. Mars has promised to not harm Minerva or her allies... Minerva believes her, but I would prefer an abundance of caution." Another pause. "I'm reaching out to you to see if you'd be willing to attend this 'meeting' in two days at a vacated school in Seattle and, once you're there, use your ability to determine if traps or an ambush is in place--to see if we can proceed safely.... I know that was a lot. Let me know if you have any questions."

Akira listened throughout the whole ordeal. His face, though Alice/Lanie couldn’t see, scrunch up in a series of different emotions when each important point of the story got to him; confusion, surprise, worry, fear, awe, and relief. It was series of events that not even he could believe, but he was able to process it and understand his potential role, “Well, I think I can, but I wanted to ask if you reached out to other people in the network about this. I’ve been trying to keep low for a bit, and I’m sorry to sound like a dickhead, but what do I get in return?”

"I don't know many that have that particular skill like you do," Lanie replies patiently. "And it doesn't sound 'like a dickhead' to me--in fact, I encouraged you to ask that kind of question the last time we talked, so well done. Are you still in need of some help getting hunters to cease pursuing the bigfoot? Also, I totally get laying low. Is there something you'd like to share about your current situation--something I could try to help you with? No pressure to share of course; I'm just checking in." 

“The Bigfoot situation, I think I’m good, I got you and Bu for that illusion thing, but if there’s more people you know that’s interested, I’m all for it. And for the second question, it’s nothing too serious. No one’s hunting me down, but… this whole contracting thing’s starting to get to me. I haven’t thrown in the towel, though. Far from it. It’s just… hard keeping up.”

"I understand. Pace yourself and consider when you're ready to be done with it. Personally, I'd like to do three or four more and then I think I'll be done." Lanie makes an odd sound for a human--an exhale through the nose sort of like a dog's snort, not quite a sneeze. "I wasn't totally sure if Bu did illusions, although I remember we talked about him possibly putting me into a disguise somehow." Lanie considers that she saw Bu with a different appearance when he dropped off the dogs and stopped by to turn Wumbra into a dog. But was that an illusion or an actual self-modification that would expire after a while? "Has he agreed to help then?"

“I haven’t talked to him yet, but I’ll see if he can. He’s a busy man running a world class restaurant after all. But he’s powerful. Anyways… like I said before, I can help out with Minerva’s problem with her… twin. Just give me a heads up on when we roll out, and tell Minerva that, too.” Whilst he was talking, he caught the snort, which he noted.

"You should get something out of this, Akira," Lanie pushes back lightly. "Even if you show up, sense the area for traps and an ambush, tell us what you find, and then promptly leave, there is a level of risk associated with getting involved--especially with this clone group. I recommend you come in disguise, at the very least with your face covered, so that if things go wrong this doesn't follow you home. In exchange, I'm confident that Minerva would be willing and capable to help us with the Bigfoot problem, in part because I've worked with her for a bit now and in part because I know her entire skillset in detail. How does that sound?" 

Akira looked at his phone and then silently cursed himself. Thinking of the perfect suit that could’ve aided him which is now lost, but he quickly recomposed himself and replied, “That sounds alright.”

"Great! Let me check in with the team--the hacker and Minerva--about where we'll meet you. I'll call you back soon... Thank you."

“You’re welcome… and stay safe.”

"You too, my friend." The call ends.

As the call ends, Akira takes a sigh and readies himself for his newest task in the near future.

-------

Easier Containment

Lanie telepathically speaks to Bu when she briefly sees him in person in Dominic's van:

"I've agreed to exchange a lasting item--the Spider 1.0--for a temporary fix of turning what is essentially my captive into a canine for easier containment. In a month or so, such help will no longer be required. Would you be willing to do one more thing, that is, evolve my qi in a permanent way as well? I should have asked earlier, but it only just now occurred to me--I've had a lot going on lately."

"I can manipulate in a way, yes, but i will need to test some stuff first."

"Alright. Would the tests need to involve me or would you perform them on your own?"

"Just me alone."

"Let me know when you're done then. Oh, also, expect a call from Akira soon if he hasn't already reached out."

The task is quickly completed. A dharma figure of Bu Fang grabs threads of Wumbratainment, visibly drag out her soul, cuts and meshes it like rolling a dough ball, and then puts it back into her. As her soul is returned, she transforms into a pomski. Then the disguised Bu Fang rushes away.

The little fluffy dog is put into temporary containment in Dominic's basement with plenty of food and water until the final aspect of their mission--a confrontation between Mars and Minerva--is done. 

To Seattle

A few hours into the long cross-country drive to Minerva's old school in Seattle, Washington, former Pepsi mascot Alice Decker's 'death by suicide' hits the news. The brief snippet airs on the radio following a briefing on an interview with supernatural killer and "devil incarnate" Ky Matranaga. Lanie immediately seems fidgety. Noticing, Minerva asks the dog what's wrong. 

The dog's ears and tail are down. "Oh, uh, I just haven't seen my daughter in, like, over two weeks." 

Minerva frowns a little, and... well, she knew Alice's name before. When she sees the news and the reaction to it being announced... "Were you Alice Decker?" she asks.

The dog continues to lay on the floor of the backseat, not getting or looking up. "For a short time, yes."

The young girl undoes her seatbelt, just going to hug the dog on the floor. "And... and you can't see your daughter anymore because you're pretending to be dead now?"

Lanie stiffens for a moment and then comes up and relaxes into the embrace. She's quiet for a few seconds before finally replying quietly, uncharacteristically briefly, "Yeah, something like that." Another pause. "May I, uh, sleep by your feet for a bit?"

Minerva keeps hugging them, and nods softly.  She just starts to pet them gently.  She can see that ring, but doesn't make the connection at the moment. She nods at the request, before saying "How about like this?"  She lies down in the back seat, just resting an arm over the fluffy warmth of the dog.  "I'm kinda tired too."

"There's a blanket in the back of the truck," Albert says. "You can use that and." He'll press a button and a sliding cover will block out the light in the back of the truck "Typically used to keep out people I don't want to watch me, but, the cabin is sound proofed as well." Try not to dwell on why someone would want the cabin of their truck sound proofed. Totally just for sleeping.

The young girl nods a little, fishing out the (thermal) blanket and pulling it over herself.  She smiles.   "Thank you."  She says as the light is blocked out.  It was really handy that his truck was modified for sleeping.  "Do you spend a lot of time on the road?"

"Yes he does," Lanie mumbles as she also gets comfy, hoping to end the conversation there.

"I do. It's handy to have reliable transportation when you're on the jobs. A place to sleep, bullet proof siding keeps things where they should be, white noise emitter lets me know when people are recording me. Old reliable here has been with me through a lot."

Minerva drapes the blanket over Lanie too.  "Mmm."  She murmurs.  That all made sense.  She closes her eyes.

Something to be said for the safety of paranoia, the dogtor thinks to herself as she yawns under the blanket.

After a few minutes, the blanket is telekinetically moved off of the dog who is physically adapted to survive in the arctic. And the two get a good long rest.

-------

Burgers

A private call between Lanie and Albert, while Minerva sleeps:

"Albert, is the sniper robot clone that you have in the basement's original dead?" 

"No, he's not. I saw no reason to dispose of him, keeping him disabled was the better decision. People tend to talk around fools."

"No, is his original dead--the Contractor."

"Very depressing individual to speak to by the way, no knowledge of culture, science, or technology despite - oOooh. yes. very dead. At least according to state records and the clone."

"If we got him to do a full confession on the record and turned him over to the authorities in a way that this doesn't trace back to you, and if they did a DNA test where he is the twin of the dead man--and based on the DNA you have from their bedding and cigarette butts which I'm assuming are also of Contractors who are literally dead and buried ... Do you think we have enough evidence to make the clone terrorist group public and hounded by the government?" 

"It'd be a possibility, but they'd go from individual conflict to viewing government institutions as their enemies, and with all respect to the government. A powerful, dedicated, group like that could cause incredible devastation to the stability of any given nation if they apply themselves correctly. Is that a chance we want to take?"

"Not exactly. I was more wondering if we had even more leverage to make their lives difficult if we really wanted to--beyond your, uh, forced transformations."

"Even I find using that particular tool somewhat repugnant, to be honest, but waging war means swallowing your morals. They're a dead man's quality on the battlefield. So yes, I can say with certainty that I can run the information to the hands of people who'd want to see them punished for their.. numerous crimes. Scorpio has killed a lot more people than just his clone."

"Snipers tend to do that," she says much more quietly than before. Her ears go down and and she looks out the window at the boring world of Montana go by.

"I know.. it's tragic, but. That's why I have my alternative methods. To demoralize and terrorize is my method of avoiding unnecessary death, to make the idea of fighting seem so terrible that they choose to avoid it at all costs, and at the very least. I promise you I wont kill anyone on this mission you don't give the okay on."

Dominic's response catches Lanie off guard. She looks at the back of his seat, ears still down, as she quickly replies, "I-I uh, no it's not that--I, um, was more thinking--I m-mean..." She takes a deep breath. "I trust and appreciate you, and you know that. Don't wait for my okay--do what you think is best. I, uh, I'm pretty sure I can tear someone up decently in this new form of mine, but like you I don't ever want to. Actually, um, I was just thinking about Jason--how he has struggled with becoming a monster of sorts to take down, well, those some would consider 'monstrous.'" So, in the end it sort of was about 'that'. 

"Ah... Jason. My apologies. I was doing everything I could not to bring him up to the point that I pushed him out of my peripheral. My apologies. Like I said. Not great with people. Jason's a tough case. I don't know what his backstory was, and being an army sniper is a "Take orders and don't ask questions" kind of position. Especially when you push into black ops. I was an intelligence officer myself, and I wasn't army, so I had a lot more leeway in making intelligent decisions. My job was information and framing that information after all but I can say this. When someone takes a life it changes them, each and every time, even if they lie about it and pretend like it didn't. It did. They either became even more callous to the idea and isolated themselves from everyone else, or they begin to break down. From what I know of Jason.. you probably found him in the prior state, and though it didn't play out the way that.. Someone who listened to you would've had it play out, you did improve his life. Undeniably so, and that, that is worth everything. 

The words and feelings of Jason and Lanie's most recent fight--arguably the most raw and hurtful one they've had--flood the dog's mind. A moment later she crawls down to the floor, finding comfort in the more enclosed and darker space, and curls up. "... You haven't been wrong yet," she finally whispers. 

"It's tough, I know, I'll leave you be for now, but, I am gonna stop for food later and I'm gonna need help eating all the burgers I'm gonna buy. So do me a favor and perk up then so I'll know you're okay alright?" he says giving her a somber head pat.

Despite her mood, the dog's mouth waters at the mere mention of burgers. "... Okay."

-------

A Desolate Wasteland

Sometime later, Minerva wakes up from her long nap. Lanie seems to have moved from the backseat to the front, and the smell of fresh burgers and fries fill the truck interior.

Hearing Minerva stirring, the dog pokes her head around the passenger seat and says (from the collar speaker), "Hungry?"

Minerva yawns some, sitting up and stretching a little bit. "Kinda..." She could just decide she was not hungry, but... she still liked eating. Food was good.

A paper bag of Burger King goodness floats from the passenger seat to the floor of the backseat. "Help yourself."

The world passing them by seems to hardly move at all aside from a few big rigs on the freeway. The I-94 which cuts through several un-notable states doesn't really have a lot going for it in terms of scenery. Aside from the occasional conversations and listening to the radio, the boredom can become heavy on a trip like this--especially given that the less populated areas have little to no mobile data service. Even Albert seems to have gotten quiet finally, a reprieve from his insane, ongoing ramblings.

Minerva widens her eyes a little at the fast food bag, fishing a burger out and starting to nom. She really didn't get enough fast food. Nom nom nom. After a bit, she spends a lot of time looking out the window... after complaining about her cellphone having no signal. What kind of a desolate wasteland didn't have cell signal?

In response to Minerva's complaint, Albert makes an extensive comment about the benefits and (blatantly insane) drawbacks associated with portable satellite internet, which nether female passenger have much to add to.

Minerva listens to the comment, looking confused a bit. She looks at Lanie for a moment before shrugging.

After a long gap of silence, for even the radio isn't picking up anything decipherable during this particular stretch of nothingness, Minerva's phone suddenly rings. The caller is Lanie, and the phone shows a rather silly photo taken in a way that makes Lanie's nose look massive.

The young girl squirms a little during the ride. She wanted to change her form, but trying to wait until this was done with. She almost jumps a little as her phone rings. Yay, signal! Salvation!  She retrieves the phone from her pocket and just blinks a few times as she sees that photo. She giggles before answering it. "Hello?"

Lanie's voice chuckles through the phone as the dog hops over the center console, moving from the passenger seat to the back beside Minerva. "Seeing how much time we have on our hands," paws? "Would you like to get screened into the Network now?"

Minerva makes sure she's out of the way as the dog jumps back, tilting her head to the side. Could a dog have a seat belt? The young girl spent a moment considering the logistics of it before remembering she'd been asked a question. "What's the Network, again? And what's being screened consist of?" She still remembered the last group she'd heard about.

The dog takes deep breaths as they continue to communicate confidentially. "I'm slowly creating a comprehensive Network of ... trustworthy Contractors as a way to exchange information, favors, services, and goods with a certain level of privacy. 'Trustworthy' means that they're good for what they say their good for, not necessarily that everyone will get along or are moving towards the same end goals. And it also means that they aren't, like, known traitors, Contractor hunters, or mass murderers--things like that." While all Contractors are insane to an extent, Lanie thinks, I'm sorting out the malicious ones.

The young girl hesitates, listening and nodding a little.  "Mmm." She considers. "... does being a part have any obligations?" She wanted to know what she was signing up for!  "I'm flattered that you ask me, and- wait, contractor hunters? Is that a thing?"

"I hope it isn't a thing, but how can we know for sure? People in our line of work can be very powerful and also have powerful things on them, things which can be forcefully taken." The dog pauses for a moment, glancing out the window before looking the teenage girl in the eyes. "To be honest, Minerva, before I owned the fact that I'm a Contractor and we're all in this together, I was planning on creating a list of bad actors who, like, committed horrible crimes, and then turn them over to the FBI--and I'd be attending the Contracts to find them. Now... I believe they can and, like, should be dealt with internally as best we can. And it's best to keep Contractors away from the government's radar, away from outside involvement."

Minerva nods softly. "I guess." She'd never thought of that! That was another thing to worry about now, though. It had been bad enough having people on her team that were sociopaths, but some that were hunting them? She shivered a bit. She nods softly. "I don't have anything powerful on me?" Besides herself. But she could take care of herself. Right? She nods softly, listening, and wiggling her nose. "...Have you met anyone who did that? And..." She looks out the window. "Would the FBI understand?  Could they do anything?"  She... wasn't sure. They could, right? But they wouldn't be particularly discriminate, she was also sure...

"I have met someone who was a Contractor and worked for the FBI, and... he wasn't very understanding." A pause as Lanie thinks, And now he's dead, but I wasn't the one who kill him. "To my knowledge, I haven't met a 'Contractor hunter' yet, but it doesn't mean they aren't out there." The dog decides to turn this into a teaching moment. "That's why when I was human I gave out a fake name and a burner phone number, and I was careful with how much I shared about myself until I had a better idea of who I was working with." Admittingly, not at first due to the nature of her first job, but she quickly caught on. "Hackers might be able to easily follow your data trail home regardless," she blatantly looks over at Albert who glances back at her through the mirror but continues to quietly drive on the long, boring stretch of road. "But I think those measures generally work."

She nods a little. "Not very understanding?" She echoes, before nodding again. "Okay. That's good..." But that was fair! They could be. She nods a bit again. "Okay. I've been trying to give out a fake name in the last few, but I gave out my real name for a while to start..." She smiles a bit, looking at her reflection in the window. "I think I'm pretty good at the disguise front, too!"

Lanie nods and her tail thumps briefly. "Yes, you are!" However, having never seen Minerva's true (foxy?) form, she doesn't know if the girl has changed her scent and voice in addition to her appearance. But still, a fake appearance to burn makes a big difference. The (not buckled in) dog moves closer to Minerva, subtly hoping for pets. The girl was the first person who ever pet her, and it felt so lovely.

Minerva beams a little at the complement, and smiles. While she was buckled in, she still goes to hug Lanie, and start to pet her. But... where were they? Oh, right... "So... any obligations for being part of this Network?"

Based on the leaning in and the tail wagging, Lanie is enjoying the pets. "... Obligations, uh..." thump thump "... don't betray me or any other Network members and, like, deliver on the good or services you promised to deliver on as part of a trade--right there under the ear please, mhm, right there--" thump "--and keep the identities of the other members you make deals with a secret."

Minerva keeps scratching, following where directed. She giggles some. As she listens, she nods a little. "Okay. That all sounds fair... So, what's screening mean?"

Lanie sheds a bit as a result of the extensive scritches. It's inevitable with a thick, fluffy fur coat like that, and unfortunately the interior of the truck is dark grey. After a pause to enjoy the pets, she says, "Nothing complicated--just a conversation so that I can get to know the Contractors better... although for you it'll be shorter since I already know some of the answers. Questions like, 'Why do you go on Contracts?' and 'What have you tried hard not to do or to always do to stick with your morals during these jobs?' Things like that. And since we're already friends, I'll tell you that I do these meetings in person so I can notice the person's scent and heartrate--like if they're sweating or becoming anxious or something. Sometimes I ask extra questions based on what I can sense or I just make a mental note of it. Smells can give away a lot, you know."

Minerva... is kind of used to fur being everywhere, so she doesn't even notice as she makes her companion shed like that. Hopefully Albert didn't mind too much. She nods a bit after, slowing down some (but not stopping). "Okay. That makes sense." She sucks in a breath, and then nods again. "Okay. We can do it."

"Relax, Minerva," the dog says gently, noticing that the girl's a bit more nervous. "As I said, you're already halfway onboarded and you didn't even know it. The first question is about what you do when you're not on Contracts, but I'm pretty sure I know the answer: you're busy being a student at Faraday, right?"

"Yeah. I spend all my time there when I'm not on a contract. Well. Or here... but this is a special case."

"It is a special case." Lanie certainly hoped so. "I think you have an idea of what I've been busy with lately... but feel free to ask me any of my own questions or anything else that comes to mind, okay? This is a conversation, not an interrogation."

Minerva nods a few times, looking around the cabin for a moment as though that would provide inspiration for a question to ask. "Okay."

"And we've already talked about why you go on Contracts... did I ever share my end goal?" These two had talked so much through multiple conversations that it was hard to remember what they'd covered.

nods softly. She remembered that, and wiggling her nose a bit. "...Wasn't it to turn into a therapy dog?" She looks at Lanie and pets a bit more.

Lanie mhms, tail wagging again and looking up and back at the teenage girl.

There's a short pause as Lanie makes that sound, and she pauses a moment. "Does that mean you're done, then?"

"I'm not quite done yet, no. I want to get better at healing the mind first and also get a bit more independent as a dog--it comes with quite a few downsides. Specifically, I want to be able to, like, take care of myself... When I do go public, I may become a target for, uh, kidnapping or capture and experimentation or some other horrible thing. So, I want to be strong enough to get away on my own, without troubling my allies."

Minerva nods. "That makes sense..." She wiggles her nose again. "But if you do ever need help, you can just tell me and I'll come! Or! Or you could stay the school... I'm sure we'd love to have you..."

"Ah, thank you." Lanie briefly envisions Minerva breaking into a highly secure government facility to free Lanie. She could probably do it... Although Lanie didn't really want her to. "Actually, I intend on visiting your school sometime after all this, at the very least to thank your principal for trusting me... I'm also considering enrolling my daughter there if we successfully tame or otherwise gain control over the demon--and, if that's the case, I'll probably see you regularly."

Minerva smiles warmly and nods. "Yay! I'm sure everyone will love you. I know Kerrigan certainly will." She nods. "Oh? Is your daughter magical? I'm sure everyone will like her!" She beams. "I'm looking forward to that! It's nice to have good friends." She looks out the window again. "How do you see this all ending?"

The dog looks out the window too, having moved to being sort of in Minerva's lap for more convenient pets, although she's careful to not put all of her weight on the girl. Forty-five pounds could be unpleasant for a smaller-sized person despite the fluff. The landscape continues to be boring, but as an upside Lanie doesn't feel the impulse to bark at the wildlife or civilians out with their dogs (a minor downside of passing through cities and towns). "You'll either come home with Mars or you won't... But at least you'll know you did your best."

Minerva nods softly, just absentmindedly petting now. "I did my best. Is that enough?"

The dog is quiet for a bit, trying to sort her thoughts on this. "I think if the outcome was entirely in your control, then I'm confident your best--and all of our bests combined--would be enough to bring Mars home. But... now we know that it's not entirely in your control. She has a choice to make, either to keep going down her current path or make a new one with you... If Mars doesn't come home with us, then it's not because you failed. Rather, it's because she's strong like you. No one can make her do anything she doesn't want to do... and we'll have to respect that." Of course, if Mars went on a terrorist rampage, 'respecting that' might be less peaceful and passive than it initially sounded. But, one thing at a time.

Minerva rests her chin against the dog as they're both quiet, just looking out the window and thinking. As Lanie starts to speak again, Minerva keeps staring out the window. She nods softly at the end. "What if there's some combination of words that will make her choose to make a new path with me, and I can't find them?"

The physical contact feels so nice. Lanie always was cuddly with her couple of closest people long before being a dog--and now, in her true form, she could do so in a socially acceptable, non-romantic way with a broader range of friends. Hopefully the contact comforted the girl a bit. "Maybe think of it ... less like a magic spell and more like an expression of your heart. I know you'll be able to express your heart to her. And no matter how she reacts--positive or negative--I'm confident that she'll understand what you're trying to say, the meaning underneath your words. Because if anyone speaks your language, like, it's you and her."

Minerva nods softly, and closes her eyes. The contact was comforting, yes. She nods softly. "Okay." What more could she say? That's... all she could do. Was go there, and be honest. And hope it worked out.

Several quiet minutes pass before the dog asks gently (through the phone which is on speaker), "Would you like to continue the screening?"

"...Yes, we can keep going."

"Okay. What do you try really hard to do--or not to do--on these jobs to stick with, like, your convictions and morals?"

Hearing the question, Minerva wiggles her nose. "Umm... I don't want to kill anyone? I haven't. I don't want to even hurt anyone... monsters don't count, though. Like, kill-people-first monsters." She considers a bit. "I just want to be a good person?"

"I understand. Me too." The tail briefly wags before Lanie gets back to business. "Now, a slightly harder question: what is your greatest regret--a mistake you've made on one of these jobs?" Being in her lap, it's particularly easy for the dog to be attentive to the girl's heart rate.

There's a short pause. "...I sat in a police station when one of my friends died." She says quietly, and looks down. "Izzy- She stayed outside, and... I was.. I was just trying to talk to them, and I messed it up, and... and while I was talking, outside, they killed Izzy. And I wish I could go back and have saved her."

"I'm sorry, honey." Lanie says softly as she leans onto Minerva a bit more. "... That's the risk each of us accept by going on these jobs--Izzy too. To lose a friend..."

"... She was really nice. She... she even helped me when I lost my hand. And... she was..." Minerva starts to sniffle a little. "She always seemed upbeat, and..." She looks down.

"She was a good friend," Lanie affirms patiently, leaving open the option of Minerva full on crying. It's good to cry sometimes, and the dog wasn't sure if she had someone else to talk to about this kind of thing. While the principal knew that Minerva went on these jobs, it might be strategic not to mention that one's allies commonly died, including getting murdered.

Minerva hadn't really talked to anyone about it. Bottling it up seemed like a much better idea... talking about it with her classmates or the principal both seemed like a bad idea. She tried to vent in her diary, but... She starts to sniffle, before just hugging the dog as tightly as she can, crying into her fur. She cries for a long couple of minutes, letting it out in a way she hasn't yet for weeks.

Albert glances back in the mirror at the two passengers but otherwise says nothing as Lanie is just there for Minerva, for as long as she needs. He does pass something back though. Once Minerva quiets and slowly pulls away from the dog--a red-faced, puffy-eyed, sniveling mess as one is when one full-on cries--she finds a travel packet of tissues beside her. The dog's fur where Minerva buried her face is also a mess, but Lanie doesn't mind. She just carefully shifts around on Minerva's lap so that it's now on the opposite side, out of sight and hopefully out of mind, to clean up later. Then the dog give a single lick to Minerva's hand.

Minerva was really a snotty-nosed little girl at the moment. She was typically good at controlling her emotions - growing up the way she did that was a requirement. For the moment, that was gone. When she was done, finally, she found those tissues, starting to try to clean her face up. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Thank you too," Lanie whispers back. The requirement of deep breathing and concentration on her end to maintain the 'call' prevents her from forgetting that their conversation is confidential--so no whispering is required. And yet in that moment whispering made sense. "Thank you for being my friend." And Lanie meant it.

The young girl closes her eyes. "And thank you for being mine." She suddenly feels exhausted.

"Mhm." The two stay close together in tired quietness for a while. Crying is indeed exhausting. And Lanie, well, she was deeply tired for other reasons. She even begins to doze, accidentally ending the 'call'. They begin to pass through a small town. Then the truck exits the freeway, prompting Lanie to look out the window. Were they getting gas again? He was quite a champion for doing all the driving...

-------

Dead

Hours later, Minerva gets a text. She wiggles her nose as she reads it before looking at Lanie. "Um... Ms. Interpal is looking to speak with you. Should I say something back?"

"Please let her know that Alice is dead. No need to tell her that I'll call her back immediately." The dog then begins to take deep breaths with closed eyes.

---

About a minute after Minerva texts Amarjeet back, Amarjeet gets a phone call. The caller ID is "Lanie" with the familiar profile picture of a paw print icon. "Hello Ms. Inderpal. How may I help you?"

"Hello Lanie," her tone seems a bit more at ease than previous conversations, if still very business-like, "I take it this line is secure on your end?"

"Actually, it's secure on both of our ends." Lanie's tone is business casual as well--a little more formal than usual though given who she's speaking with.

"Excellent. I understand you are in the business of organizing the occasional job. If that is still the case, I may have one for your cohort that needs doing in the States. I find myself indisposed at the moment, so I will need to sub-contract it out."

"... I suppose I am in that business, although the jobs I organize are mainly to help my allies." It's not like I do all of this as a business model or, like, hobby... "What's the task?"

"Someone in our line of work apparently took a wrong turn, and I believe they are now dead." A hint of annoyance is the only emotion there. "They had an item of some sentimental value to me on loan. I would like it recovered from their home and sent to me."

"Any additional complicating factors there, such as they were extremely famous or extremely paranoid such that their house is a fortress?"

"They are rather infamous perhaps..." she trails off there, as if thinking to herself, "However the rest should be rather simple - the individual was quite wealthy, & certainly does have a fortress in a remote location - one that I set the security at, so penetration will not be difficult. Anything else found there is not my concern and may be kept by your team if they like."

"Okay. What's the ideal timeframe? Do you expect them to be plundered--despite the security and remoteness of the location--by anyone else soon?"

"I was not able to find a last will on file, and it is unclear exactly what happened. Due to the nature of the work we do I would assume sooner would be better."

"Of course. But how sure are you that the thing you want is at their home and wasn't on them when they died?" Jason Decker's compact sniper rifle, which is likely in an evidence box somewhere in Texas, comes to Lanie's mind as she asks the question.

"It is a special suit made by a ... former associate. We collaborated on its design, and it is packed with sensors - I know exactly where it is & can send that information to your field team as required."

"I see." A pause. "The finding and taking of anything else there sounds like a variable bonus, not guaranteed payment. Assuming the team succeeds at retrieving the suit but is otherwise emptyhanded, what might you be willing to pay or trade with for the service? Admittingly, breaking and entering a dead man's house sounds easy enough, even if it is occupied by their friends or family... On that note, do you happen to know if they were living alone? If not, I can look into it myself..."

Another uncharacteristic pause before, "This was Timothy Humbug. They have no family, certainly no friends. Naturally, I am inclined to pay for work done on my behalf--that was never in question."

Lanie had heard of the man. "That makes the task easier. Alright then, a cash payment, I'm guessing. Assuming I succeed at getting a couple of people together to take on this job, which state does he live in? And would you like the suit to be shipped to you or personally delivered to one of your international locations?"

"Cash, or more of that "supernatural" nonsense you lot are so fond of - makes little enough difference to me. Yes, once you have the item, I can provide a suitable delivery location. It should go without saying that no one on your team should know I am commissioning this job?"

"Correct. I will keep your identity confidential and act as the middleman." Middledog? "Let me ask around and see what I can do."

"Excellent. I would find a team of more than 3 to be wasteful for something I could do myself in a lazy afternoon if not otherwise occupied, & payment options will reflect that."

"I honestly had only one or two in mind in terms of size--in part due to the simplicity of the task and in part to avoid unnecessary complication. That is, payment would be for the task itself, not the number of people involved in completing it."

"Understood. Let me know when you have a team, and I will provide the security countermeasures & location of the item."

"I will. Talk to you soon." The call ends.

-------

The Details

The vehicle that Albert drives is a black F-150 King Ranch. The largest cabin model of the truck that is commercially available, you can see some subtle signs of modification to the siding, and the tires themselves seem different than the standard along with non standard rims. The meeting spot that Albert would have picked out would've been a standard civilian park. Out on the hiking trail. Away from cameras, not really a lot of nosy people, and he feels like it'll fit Akira's vibe.

At this hiking trail spot, under the shade of a tall, lush tree, stands a young Caucasian man with the beginnings of a beard, short brown hair, blue eyes, dressed rather inconspicuously and wearing an anti-surveillance gator mask; a pure white Samoyed wearing a black leash connected to a grey collar that's nearly buried under all of the fluff; and a red-haired, freckled young teenage girl holding the leash. The dog sniffs the air and then informs the other two--through a light yip and a tail wag--that their fourth teammate is approaching.

As Akira exited his 2010 Toyota Corolla, in the spot they were supposed to meet, he walked towards to where the rest of his team was at. Per Alice’s/Lanie’s advice, the ranger dressed as inconspicuously as he could: eschewing his more southern style of clothing for something more urban. He still wore his dark, blue jeans, but he wore a simple white shirt, a brown hoodie, sunglasses, and a mask covering his face. His short, black hair concealed under the hood. As he was close, he took a deep breath of the air. Taking it in as it was a long time partaking in something supernatural. Waving at them, and then looking at the Samoyed and slowly waved as well, slowly recognizing that the dog was also Alice.

The dog's tail continues to wag as Akira approaches them, but she is a well-behaved "pet" who stays seated beside her "owner." Speaking exclusively to Minerva through the Airpod (since they're in a semi-public space), Lanie chuckles. "I had suggested he hide his identity from the clone group--not us. Please make the intros, Minerva..." 

"If you could, I don't like people, and they tend to not like me." Albert would say fidgety in the face of meeting a new potential power player. He'd say inclining his head between Minerva and Lanie unaware of the conversation but just not liking talking to people.

Minerva, the freckled teenager, smiles and waves to the newcomer. She leans down, petting Lanie a few times as they approach. "Hello! I understand you're Akira?" She smiles warmly. "My name is Minerva, and this is Lanie..." She pets the dog a bit more. "And Albert. Thank you for volenteering to help us."

The dog seems to mildly enjoy the pets, looking up at and butting herself against Minerva more. 

Dust, Dirt, and Debris

Two Contractors who look like they've been baptized in dust, dirt, and debris enter the pet friendly, 3.5-star, double-queen bed hotel room, part of the Marriot's Extended Stay collection in Omaha, Nebraska. The human had wanted to split the cost of a 2-star motel nearby, but the dog insisted on something nicer and on covering the full costs (by reimbursing the human with prepaid Visa gift cards). After accosting some looters, saving a father and a nurse from death, and aiding a scared family by helping some looters the nameless dog felt that they both deserved a good, safe, comfortable rest. And after that the two had some business to take care of.

Nathan takes some time to bask in the expensive aura of the room and lays down on the bed. "Oh shoot." He then realizes his clothes are still dirty and gets off.

The dog immediately TK removes her pack in the hallway. It's a relief to be free of it. The part it covered is very clean and the rest of her is dirty. "Need the bathroom?"

"You can go first. I'm going to go get a sandwich first." There were several fast food options within easy walking distance of the hotel room, but only one was open during those early hours of the morning.

The dog nods and then trots inside, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Nathan hears the shower water turn on and the curtain get drawn as he leaves the room seeking sustenance.

Nathan gets two Subway sandwiches and a soft drink as well as some cookies. He comes back in ~15 minutes.

Right as Nathan returns, a damp white dog (smelling like, well, wet dog and generic vanilla shampoo) emerges from the bathroom, tail wagging and in a much better mood than before. The pack glows silver along with the dog's eyes as it floats behind her, following her onto the untainted (still clean) other queen bed. She is still wearing a grey collar which is now a bit less buried under her damp fluff.

Nathan comes back, still quite filthy, and tosses once of the sandwiches onto the couch. "Didn't know what you'd like, so I just got roast beef, that's fine right?" He'll then put down the rest of the food onto the table nearby, take some clothes he bought and head into the washroom to clean up.

"Oh wow, thanks!" The dog is visibly thrilled. "Beats dog food any day!"

After ~10 minutes, Nathan comes out in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He finds the lights out, a sandwich wrapper in the trash, and the dog curled up tight and breathing deeply in the center of her bed with the pillows shoves around her in a circle sort of forming a fluffy wall (or the impression of a dog bed). Nathan's hair is still sort of wet but he seems too tired to care and faceplants onto the bed. However, he doesn’t go to sleep quite yet…

Eight hours later, around around 11 AM, as daylight peeks in past the thick curtains, Nathan wakes up to the sound of the hotel room door unlocking. Entering the room is a short thin half-Asian/half-white woman looking to be in her late twenties. She's wearing off-white designer linen pants, a grey designer sweater, a black cloth facemask, black leather gloves, and grey leather booties. Her black slightly curly hair is cut above the shoulder and one side of her head is shaved--an undercut bob. Her hair has purple tips.

The woman carries the hotel keycard in one hand and a stack of three disposable plates of food (with plates on top as a cover for each) in the other. The door shuts very softly behind her as she enters the room, makes eye contact with Nathan, and briefly freezes--immediately blushing as she then looks away from him uncomfortably. "I-I, uh, brought us some, like breakfast..." The woman's voice from the collar. She sets the plates down on the desk with her back to Nathan.

Nathan wakes up rubbing his forehead and yawns before saying: "Just give me five more mi-" Seeing an unfamiliar presence right after he groggily wakes up, Nathan immediately rolls off the bed, crashing onto the floor in an unflattering manner in his haste before recognizing the voice. His hand reaches for his dark brown canvas backpack shoved near the side of the wall nearby as he rises to a crouch while warily looking at the woman. "Um, dog? Phone-call dog?" Under his breath he mutters a few words before speaking aloud once more. "Is that you?"

"S-sorry!" The woman replies before ducking into the bathroom and then meekly coming out as the familiar white fluffy canine, now wearing the grey collar and with tail and ears down. "I, uh, didn't mean to scare you like that..." Her voice once again comes from the collar. "I'm, like, so sorry."

Nathan is stupefied for a couple of seconds before speaking once more. He gets up and sits on the bed. "Oh uh, not your fault, I overreacted. Just didn't expect another human in here... Thanks for the food by the way." He stands up and goes over to take a plate and pulls out a chair. "So, you can turn back and forth huh? Best of both worlds I suppose."

Two plates are full meals with dollar pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausages, cut fruit, and a little container of cheap syrup. The third plate has a pile of napkins, utensils, a banana, and two small yogurts.

The dog nods, slowly warming up again. "Someday I'll make, um, the full transition but yeah, each form has its limitations so for now having both available is good." While she talks, the other plate of food floats down to the floor as the dog licks her chops and begins to visibly salivate, a little bit of drool dripping onto the carpet. "I, uh, should've waited, but I got up a few hours ago, and I kept smelling people walking down the hallway with breakfast..." With that she digs in, careful enough not to make a mess on the ground but still undeniably inhaling it all in a matter of seconds as dogs tend to do.

"Nah, I think what you did was totally correct. I'd rather be surprised than have someone starve, especially if I also get food right after waking up." He gets into the seat and starts devouring the plate of food. "Mhm, this is pretty good." He manages to finish the plate of food with a speed that is semi-impressive for humans but truly pathetic when compared to the canine doctor.

"It's so amazing," the voice agrees as she looks up at Nathan with a wagging tail, voice speaking clearly despite the dog's mouth being full of only partially chewed food. Watching the man finish, the dog finally remembers his earlier statement. "Lanie. My name is Lanie, and I'm a licensed--well, I was a licensed psychologist. Now as a human I'm pretty much no one and as a dog I'm... also not quite yet anyone--that is, not ready to be an Illuminated superdog yet ... I should maybe get some dog tags or something. It's just been a really busy past couple of weeks..." The dog looks off into the distance briefly and then comes back to the present. "But one thing at a time. Would you like to start the mental health screening?"

"We'll I'm sure you'll be able to make your mark on the world. I mean, you already had with those people at least. But yes, go ahead with that mental health screening."

"We do our best," Lanie replies as she telekinetically folds and throws away her plate into the small metal wastebasket beside the desk. Then she hops up onto Nathan's messy bed so that she's a bit higher and takes a seat, giving the young man her full attention. "You know what I do--well, what I used to do and also what intend on doing in my true form soon, publicly. But what do you do with most of your time when you're not on these jobs?"

"I work. Despite the many wonderful supernatural capabilities I possess, I've needed to spend a significant amount of my time keeping the lights on. When I'm not doing that, I'm working to, well, learn more. I've found certain skills have really been helpful when it comes to keeping myself, and others, alive. As for my 'free' time? I volunteer here and there. Not only does it help the community, lets me learn, it also helps me fill my resume. Oh, and I love watching shows. Just when I'm really tired and want nothing to do with the real world."

Lanie affirms with nods and mhms without being interruptive while she listens. "I've used my ability to supernaturally heal the mind to make a decent amount of money, but doing so comes with the risk of being Illuminated too soon. I'm sure you'll find a way to capitalize on your developing skillset when and if you're ready to. What sort of job do you work now? And where have you enjoyed volunteering? Search and rescue missions aside." She chuckles. It seems that the dog genuinely wants to get to know Nathan, as opposed to grilling him for the details of his life. Her ears are alert and her tail occasionally thump thumps on the bed as the conversation continues.

"I've actually just recently got promoted to store manager!”

"Oh, congratulations on the promotion! That must make stepping away for a job a little more complicated though."

“I also tutor part-time and am a delivery driver,” Nathan continues. “You may one day see me in front your door with a box of pizza. Uh, that sounded like a threat, didn't it? Didn't mean that. Anyways, moving on, as for volunteering... I volunteer at a food bank, sometimes help with the animal shelter and occasionally do clerical work for a children's hospital." Nathan seems quite eager to share details of his life. It seems like he hasn't had many people he's been talking to regarding all this stuff for quite a while. "Honestly, I think I like doing work. Makes me feel, well, significant… A sense of accomplishment I guess."

Lanie slightly tilts her head to one side, lost in thought for a moment as she listens to Nathan list off his volunteer activities. He likes animals and kids and is genuinely, selflessly charitable... she thinks before getting back to the task at hand. "That's entirely understandable; I like to stay productive too, although lately it's been a little too much. But it'll slow down soon, I think."

"Thanks. Yeah, definitely makes doing these Contracts much more difficult. Boss is real nice though. She seems to understand that whatever I got going on is important and as long as I don't screw up, she seems fine with it. The Contracts definitely give me something to do though."

"They absolutely do. On that note, what inspires you to pause your busy, productive life to go on these oftentimes dangerous and sometimes rather insane jobs?"

Nathan is about to speak before he pauses for a few moments. "I see people persecuted because of the threat they might pose or if they don't fit whatever someone else thinks they should be and I see living calamities killing thousands of the defenseless without cause or mercy. I want to create a functioning society where the supernatural and the normal can co-exist without issues. It's something really big, and I'm probably not going to achieve it honestly, but at least I might be able to lay some groundwork for who does. What I'm really worried about though... is that if I do face certain death while working towards this goal that my conviction is not going to be enough."

Lanie's tone drops a bit and her ears go back as she replies, "It's true that sometimes conviction is not enough to get through the tasks at hand and the fallout from them. But when your strength fails, true allies can help you survive, escape, endure--whatever it is that you might need to continue on. At least, that's what I've learned while going into and coming out of several levels of hell as a result of these jobs."

Nathan smiles. "Appreciate the advice."

"That's what I hope my Network is for, to connect the right people at the right time--usually in a time of need... The thing that drives you is something I've been considering for a while. Do I need to be hidden as I move toward my goal? If I'm Illuminated, will I become the 'golden goose' that people--organizations, governments even want to cage, kidnap, dissect, or otherwise abuse? If we were already living in the society that you're striving for, I wouldn't have to weigh the risks like this. At the same time, if I do what I'm aiming to do and singlehandedly address mental health problems in the United States over the course of a few months--and do so overtly as a sapient 'superdog' ... then I'll hopefully be contributing towards your goal as well."

"Well, it indeed seems like we have a common goal of sorts. You'd probably need a lot of protection though if you're doing that. I suppose that Network of yours can help with stopping you from being put into bad situations. It'll have to grow into quite the force though."

"I'm currently in the process of hiring a personal 24-hour bodyguard, but I haven't yet found anyone in our line of work who might be interested in accompanying a soon-to-be-famous superdog on trips to children's hospitals and mental institutions. A skilled bodyguard would be a proactive, preventative measure... But I agree that the Network's existence is currently a strong reactive one. That is, if I were in trouble, I believe several people would come to my aid--a few out of the kindness of their hearts and a few because they owe me... or both."

"Well, you can count me in for helping you if you are in dire need of it, if I can of course. Unfortunately, I'm not very capable in the grand scheme of things, as of yet. Any more mental screening questions?"

"Thank you, Nathan, and I'd be happy to help you as well!" The tail thumps a bit more but then goes still as they return to business. "Now, what would you say your personal, moral limits are on these jobs? Like, what lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?" Her nose lifts up a little and takes in his smells as she listens to his heart rate. He’s a bit excited but otherwise calm, not very nervous.

Nathan seems surprised about the dogtor's declaration of aid before answering the question. "I don't want to kill or needlessly harm anyone innocent. I do admit that I will weigh lives though and will take the path that I believe would cause the least suffering. I'm trying not to r--to turn into a terrible person either. I don't want to be someone who would backstab another, but that hasn't been too difficult."

"Of course--I feel the same way. I'm also not a fan of causing death or even harm to my enemies if I can avoid it. And concerning backstabbing, I consider that to be one of the greatest sins of those in our line of work. Now for a slightly harder question: what is your greatest regret, like maybe a mistake or failed action or maybe even inaction related to these jobs?"

Nathan seems uncertain. "Do I have to answer this?"

"No, actually, you don't have to answer anything," Lanie replies patiently as she lays down. "However, this is a part of the screening process that I ask all of the potential Network members to better understand who they are and what they stand for. Everything you share with me is confidential except for your available goods, skills, and services for trade, which I'd only use to match you with others and others with you. If you want to end the conversation here, I'm still willing to do my best to help you if you're in need of my mental health services or otherwise, within reason, based on what I learned about you in Ashland."

He thinks about what the dogtor says for a few seconds before finally answering, "Alright. I guess my greatest regret is being what I would consider now to be a bad person. My actions back then caused my family and people I cared about to fall apart. I wouldn't say that it was all because of me but I was the driving factor."

The dog looks back at the man, simply blinking, realizing that he probably missed the 'related to these jobs' part of her question given that he described his unknown actions as 'back then'. "Thank you for sharing, Nathan. If you ever want to talk about that more, know that I'm willing to listen." A pause. "Relatedly, please let me know if you ever become aware of any mental health challenges you'd like me to help you with--obsessions or phobias or compulsions or things like that. I can also do a mental health 'check-up' of sorts to identify things you might not be aware of, with your consent of course.”

"I don't think I have mental health challenges right now, but I'd be willing for you to do a check-up."

"Go ahead."

"Alright." Lanie closes her eyes and sets her head down on a paw. Within a few seconds, a very faint, silver, jagged ethereal halo appears around her head. At the same time, Nathan gains a very visible black ethereal halo. Although it has no weight or physical feel to it as it shifts and rotates, Nathan might notice it in the reflection of the decently-sized television or the decorative mirrors on the wall close by.

Nathan will remain seated unless he feels something is wrong.

After a long moment, the dog looks back at him and lifts up her head again. She speaks slowly: "Your mind... it's being influenced or maybe, like, been altered by something? I've never felt anything like that before, so I can probably rule out it being a typical mental health condition..." Lanie sounds a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry I can't tell you anything more. If you want, I can refer you to a different supernatural doctor friend of mine who does much more comprehensive examinations."

"Huh, that must be what I did last night. You slept first, so I spend the time finishing the sandwich and trying out the new insight I got. Check this out." Nathan then grabs one of the utensils and attempt to stab his finger with reasonable strength, where it then will bounce off as if impacting steel. It still leaves a faint mark though. "Lots of things I can do with this new capability."

The dog watches with curiosity. "Oh, you can enhance the body now? I'm familiar with something like that--well, I know one other who can do a similar thing involving, like, energy manipulation. I don't know how his works exactly, but your seems to somehow involve altering or maybe even burdening the mind... My advice is to try not to overdo it, for the sake of maintaining your mental health."

"I'll keep that in mind. My method seems to relate to restructuring one's reflection. Honestly seeing that it affects the mind is quite the insightful discovery for me... I'm assuming that's everything for the test?"

The dog nods. "For the mental health checkup, yes. One final question for the screening though. Is there anything else you think I should know about you? Tracked by the FBI perhaps?" At that point, Lanie remembers that she failed to ask Nathan to turn off his phone, and their conversation currently is not confidential. The dog sighs and then proceeds. "Someone trying to kill you--things like that? Something that could get me or others into trouble by association maybe?"

"Not to my knowledge. I'm a pretty boring guy."

"Good, keep it that way." Is the dog smiling or is that just what Samoyeds look like? "Okay, Nathan, you're officially in in as the sixth member of the Network. Now, just a few questions about how you'd like to access it. Would you like to be 'private' or 'public'? Private means I don't share your name and contact information with anyone without your permission. Basically, I'm the middle person who reaches out to you if I find someone who has something you want or know of someone who wants your services. Public means I can directly pass your name and contact information on to others within the Network as needed. Alias and burn phone number works just as well here though for practical reasons."

"I don't want to keep bothering you, so public, I guess? Besides, I think I'd be willing to trust people who have gone through the screening. I'll give a burner and as for my alias, uh," Nathan thinks to the Mitsubishi Mirage he owns. "What about Chestnut?"

"Works for me." The dog finally realizes that she usually takes notes in her notebook for all of this, but since the transformation she stopped carrying that and her other usual supplies around--such an inconvenience now. Not that she needed help remembering the questions, but she didn't want to forget certain details in the answers. Well... I can always re-ask, and this is even better protects their information, she internally concludes.

"I, uh, can get your burner number when I need it, I suppose. Just a few more things to discuss and then we're done. While I expand the Network based on the people I meet on the jobs, I also encourage referrals--people who you'd consider to be trustworthy. Does anyone in particular come to mind?"

"Hm, I do know a few people but I think I'll maybe need a bit more interaction with them to consider them fully trustworthy. I'll let you know."

"Sounds good. I'll call you once a month to check in, so you can update me then. Now, the Network also maintains a blacklist and 'greylist' of sorts, for anyone you've witnessed, like, torturing or murdering innocent people and, like backstabbing other Contractors while on the job or other horrible things like that. Granted, I don't guarantee that everyone in the Network will get along--only that they're relatively sane and can be trusted to deliver on the things they offer. But the one thing we have zero tolerance for is betrayal of me and fellow Network members. All that being said, is there anyone you'd mildly or strongly not recommend join the Network at the moment?"

"Honestly, most of the people I worked with to this date have been pretty amicable, I suppose I've been quite lucky so far. I mean, take Neil for example, I'm sure they'll be sharing the book. I've told you about the book, right?"

"Glad to hear you've had good teammates so far." Of course, 'good' is relative as the dog remembers the vampire who by no random chance cleaned his claws hands with bleach. "The book... uh, yeah, you had mentioned finding a supernatural book. Neil has it now?"

"Yep! Nice kid too, said he'll do all the hard work and decipher the contents before sharing the findings to all of us. Might buy him a gift sometime soon. Speaking of magical artifacts and ancient secrets, can I know what the other members of the Network, including you, are currently offering and wanting? I have some things that might be of interest."

"Of course. But first would you be willing to turn off your phone?"

"Uh, sure? I guess you're worried about someone listening in, makes sense." Nathan pulls out two phones, one a black flip-phone and another gray smartphone and turns them off. "Can't believe I forgot about that. Wow, I must be tired."

The dog scratches an itch behind her collar with a back leg while she waits. "So am I, no worries. You said you have no reason to think the FBI is listening in, so let’s hope you're right." The dog pauses, working to summarize the resource list in her head. "Okay, so far other members of the Network can... restore the body of severe scars and loss of function... provide healing for injuries, including me now ... help with locating supernatural items and permanently enhance the effectiveness of items, determine a person's weaknesses, totally dissolve items and totally repair broken items... and support with things like break-ins such as by magically unlocking things and changing one's appearance." She suddenly seems a bit worried as she looks the man in the eyes. "Not that I'm, like, promoting theft or anything. It's just that a friend of mine lost a powerful item recently, and I've been working on getting it back." Lanie shakes her head a little and then gets back on track. Several have also offered their protection services and general support if someone's in trouble or, like, needs to take care of personal business."

"Um, we have expertise in... let’s see... plants, demons, monsters, inventions, psychology, firearms, animals and ecosystems, and ..." The dog hesitates, thinking about a specific member. "Actually, I'm not sure what I'd call her an expert in. Anyways, I also intend on adding an occultist and an accomplished surgeon to the Network soon, both who I've worked with. Until I do, I've simply made referrals to them with their permission. In terms of items, the members can also make several supernatural things to my knowledge, but the only one that has been offered directly is a tool for hacking. I know a very skilled hacker myself, but he only takes on select cases--so I suppose that's another benefit. All of my friends, even if they're not in-Network, become potential resources to my members."

"That's quite a bit to take in." Nathan considers the list for a few moments. "I'd be interested in talking to the person who is offering the tool. I'd also willing to exchange my services as someone versed in the occult as well as my capabilities with augmenting others to achieve beneficial changes to them wide a wide variety of possible applications. Oh yes, I'm also willing to hear out trades for supernatural items and exchanges of goods and cash as well. I have an item, though minor, may be of interest to others. If you could get the word out for that, it would be amazing; I'm willing to talk almost anytime. These offers obviously extend towards you as well, so if you potentially want anything from me, now would probably be a good time..."

Lanie nods. "I'll reach out to the member after our business is done then. I'd like to know the details of the item you're offering to trade so I can pass it along, but first I'd like to explore your newfound skill. I suspect that improvements to the body--or in your case maybe the mind?--will be in high demand, including from me. Do you have an idea of what kinds of modifications you can make? Or maybe it's better for me to share what I'm, like, hoping for and then you can tell me if you think it might be viable? Or maybe you need to experiment a bit first with it? Of course, we'd settle on payment too, once the task is agreed on."

Nathan begins to look at the dark screen of the TV while speaking. "Sure, I'll let you know about the specifics. On to the alterations though, I think it would be better for you to share what you'd like for me to perhaps do. I'm honestly trying to figure out the specifics right now even. I think h- I'll have an intuitive understanding of if it's possible or not though… I mean it's all fairly new to me, this feeling of control and influence over the... soul and body?"

Lanie ponders Nathan's last line, her gaze following his to the reflective television. "I'm confident it will be a great asset to you and others. For what I'm looking for... I, uh, like..." Her composed, more professional tone is replaced by a mildly nervous once. "It's, um, pretty difficult to pass as a 'normal' dog and yet have the necessary supplies on me at all times so that I can, like, stay independent and support the team..." The dog hesitates briefly before hastily explaining, "Like, for example I mean, carrying a pack with about, uh, $10,000 in cash and Visa gift cards--if anyone got ahold of me and the bag, they'd, like, have some valid questions... So, I was wondering if you could make it possible for me to..." Her ears are back now as she looks away from him with embarrassment as she whispers, "... swallow small things and, like, um, store them internally so, uh, I can 'retrieve' when I need them--without getting a stomach ache because I'm sure I could try it on my own but, um ... yeah..." Looking away, the dog focuses on the odd, abstract art on the wall beside the curtained window. It was such a practical need, but the request felt so... stupid.

Nathan snaps out his stupor after noticing Lanie's gaze. "Yeah, I'd imagine living as a dog in a society built for humans must be tough. It's understandable to want something like that. Extra space inside you though..." He scans the dogtor. "I can do it. It'll have a similar volume to say, uh, a briefcase or water jug? That's probably my maximum until I can get much more experience with this. What do you have to offer?"

"Uh..." Lanie looks down at her fluffy self for a moment. "I don't think there's, like, enough of me internally for a briefcase-full of stuff or more... H-how about, um, in terms of size... a gallon-sized bag?" Hopefully there would be plenty of room for her stomach too, as she'd been loving eating ever since her IBS got accidentally cured.

"A gallon-sized bag? I think I could do a gallon-sized bag. Oh, and you may, uh, maybe don't put anything in there you don't want saliva staining, seeing the method of entry and exit. Maybe wrap whatever you put in there first."

"Y-yeah..." The still rather embarrassed dog replies. "Um, in terms of payment... You, like, aren't in need of my mental health services at the moment... how does $30,000 cash sound?"

"Uh, I'll admit it that I'm rather tight on cash this moment, but I do have a contact that I'm going to pitch this to for hopefully all the money I'll need for the next while. Maybe something else?" Nathan seems to be a bit embarrassed and unsure rejecting the money.

"No worries at all. This is all part of the deal-making process." Nathan's embarrassment helps Lanie not focus on her own. "I'm really glad to hear that you're going to monetize it--just be careful about the word getting out. Um, I have two other things for trade at the moment: a suit of extremely light and strong armor custom made to fit my human form, made from the hide of a mythical animal that I'm fairly confident would fit you ... and a truth serum. The armor, uh, it's not subtle, but it can stop, like, bullets."

"Could I, uh, take a look at these items? A little more detail on their function might help though."

The dog's eyes glow silver as her pack on her bed zips open and a small auto-injector with a silver aura floats out, landing on the desk next to Nathan. "The person who made this for me said you have to put the serum it into someone's food or drink, and, like, when they consume it, they'll tell you about their morals, their mental health conditions, and answer a single question you ask them truthfully. It might also work for a second dose, so you'd get at least one use out of it but maybe more."

"Right, that seems fairly useful. How about the armor?"

"That's at my, uh, house... in Detroit. As I said, it's been hard to carry things with me in this form. But I'm heading there after this if you want to come with me to check it out. When traveling with it, I've just called it a cosplayer outfit since the leather is scaly yet also fluffy. According to my friend, he harvested the hide from a t-rex tiger mix in a different dimension. Despite it being a full suit of armor with boots, pants, pauldrons, arm braces, and gloves--covering everything except the neck and head really--it only weighs a few pounds and barely limits my ability to move around."

"Is it possible to wear clothes over it or is it too bulky?"

"It's too bulky for that, although I suppose you could try to modify it to be less so if you're good at that sort of thing."

Nathan thinks about the offers for a bit and asks: "If I'm not taking the armor, what are you planning on doing with it?"

"Well, I already have a sort of invisible 'armor' where beings that I don't intentionally harm have trouble harming me--the Golden Rule. But...  sometimes a fight is necessary for survival or protecting others, so I was considering asking the same friend who made it for me to modify it--like, if he can--to fit my true form. Then once I figure out a better way to carry things with me, like an extradimensional space or something, I can have it on hand if I need it."

"How about this? I'll take truth serum as well as the leftover armor from the modification, since I'm assuming you won't need all of the armor for your dog form. Unless you're offering something else of course."

"Oh, that's a great idea! I'll let you know if there's any leftover parts. No, I don't have much else to trade at the moment. I already did quite a few deals over the past two weeks." The dog heaves a sigh. "It's been a life."

"Sounds like a deal then. Oh, and please do let the others in your circle know of my services for exchange, improving the survivability of trustworthy Contractors seems to be a good idea."

"It does!" Her tail wags a bit. "And before I forget, what is it that you're offering to trade?"

"The item?"

She nods.

"There's this ring," Nathan pulls out a ring of iron hard twigs and vines looped together. "it's enchanted by a shaman for granting greater success with non-violent actions in the territory of the forests. It's probably going to be useful once per Contract though with its reserve of power."

"Non-violent actions in forests?" She looks at it from a distance and sniffs it the ring's direction. "Have you tried it out?"

"I've, uh, never actually got the chance but I do feel the energy bubbling in the ring itself."

"Do you feel or, like, have you noticed any side effects since gaining it?" It seems the dog is either wisely paranoid or has had negative experiences with magical items in the past.

"Nope. Nothing I have noticed at least. I doubt whoever gave it to me would curse me either, I helped them save a family member."

"I know someone who might be very interested in the ring, a friend who's too paranoid to join the Network. If you don't mind, let me see if I can reach them."

"Sure!"

The voice from the collar goes quiet and the dog closes her eyes. She begins to breathe deeply.

Nathan will go to the washroom to get ready for the day.

---

About three weeks after Abbas watches Violet so that the 'parents' can go on a hike and talk (an attempt at communication which fails miserably), Abbas gets a phone call even if his phone is dead, on silent, or out of cell service range. The caller is "Alice/Lanie" and it comes with the familiar image of a Samoyed. Given his ongoing help with babysitting, Abbas knows that the dog has been out of town for the full two weeks. During this time, Jason has occasionally asked for babysitting help in the evenings. If Abbas asked Jason, Jason doesn't know exactly when his 'wife' is returning or where she is--just that she's taking care of some business involving helping some friends and cleaning up things after her most recent Contract.

Abbas picks up the phone with a dull, "Hm? Perfect timing. You go first."

The dog turns her head to one side, caught off guard by that greeting. "Uh, okay. How are Violet and Jason doing?"

"Jason appears to be doing well, but, I haven’t kept too much in contact with him recently due to... problems. Violet is fine, happy I dare say, having fun with exploring and adventuring, but I’ll need someone to take care of her for a while... someone is coming and it’s too dangerous."

"You first then. What's going on?" Several threats to Abbas cross Lanie's mind, but this one sounds new...

"I found the runes of the 12 lunar beasts burnt into the ground around the bunker. I believe the Nian is coming for me soon. I need to start preparing traps against it and an escape plan. If Violet is here, she will most likely get involved, and that is the last thing I wish to see happen ever again."

"Understood. I'm coming home today--thanks for helping Jason for these past two weeks. I called to let you know that I have a new Network member who can invisibly transform the body in beneficial ways, although it's taxing on the mind as a warning. That's a service that I'll be testing out myself in a moment, after this call. If that's something you think you'd benefit from, I recommend considering what good or service you might want to trade for it. Relatedly, he claims he has a ring for trade that 'blesses' non-violent actions taken in forested areas--once in a while, not constantly. It needs to recharge over time or something like that. He asked if I knew anyone who might be interested in it, and you came to mind. So let me know if you want either of those things and what you might offer for them."

"If he is into crafting, I can trade the horn of the thunderbird, which has the trait of channeling lightning. That or a favor owed of a hunter; I can attempt to gather a material or hunt a creature he desires." Lanie would know when Abbas says 'of a hunter,' he means it solemnly as he doesn’t often swear on the name of it. "Or, if he prefers, I can pay him in raw cash."

"Okay, I'll pass that along. He does seem to be into crafting... On that note, I'd appreciate if you could turn my armor into something that fits my new form, if that's possible, and save any of the scrap materials--once you feel more prepared for the Nain of course. If you can modify the armor in time, I'm willing to stay with you to fight it together." Lanie had made such an offer months ago when Abbas rescued her from the hospital after the Crypt job went horribly wrong, and she intended to stick to it.

"No, don’t stay. It’ll be too dangerous. Before, he appeared randomly, but now, if he is sending a sign, it means the seal the gods has left on in the myth has weakened... Stay far away after."

"Abbas, I'm getting stronger. I'm not as weak as I was before. And to face it alone sounds like a death sentence."

"The creature is immortal, Lanie. The most I can do is attempt to shoo it or scare it off, which I doubt will work. I’ll most likely be running away..."

"... I don't think you can run away from it forever. If these mythical 'seals' are weakening, then the threat will only grow over time."

"But, I don’t want to get you wrapped up in this... If I die, at least I’ll go out alone."

There is a long pause before Lanie finally replies, "I'll be back in 24 hours so that you can measure me and modify the armor." And then the call ends.

---

A few minutes later, the dog hops off the bed and moves over to the closed bathroom door. She gently paws at it.

"Just one moment!" After one minute, Nathan comes out in his usual attire, fairly cleaned of all of the exertion from last night's operation. "Everything good?"

The dog's tail is drooped, and she sighs again. "My friends have a habit of getting into trouble, so I'm heading straight there once we're done. But that's separate from our business at the moment. This friend of mine is willing to offer you a 'horn of the thunderbird' which, if crafted, properly--and probably with some occult knowledge too--he believes can be used to channel lightening in exchange for your forest ring. Or he's willing to hunt down a rare material or supernatural creature of your choosing, as that's, um, sort of his specialty. No pressure of course. This is about a fair deal between you both."

Nathan will say, "Hm, now that's someone I'll be interested in meeting and working with. Talents with hunting down supernatural creatures causing great disruption or violence that is. How about this, I'll the take item with the stipulation that I get to go on a hunting expedition with this individual. Just to learn and also potentially help out while gaining parts from it. Does that seem fine for them?"

The dog moves back out of the hallway into the bedroom and sits at the foot of a bed as she replies, "It's a little bit more complicated than that, but let me check with him on something." Then she closes her eyes again and resumes the deep breathing.

"Thanks, by the way."

"Mhm," Lanie replies through the collar, still focusing as her mind reaches out through the ether to the hunter. "This is what I do."

---

A minute later: "The member wants to do the trade for the thunderbird horn. As a part of the trade, he also wants to go on a hunting expedition and have some claim to the bounty if it's successful. How about we invite him to join us in facing the Nian? There would be no deception involved--I'll explain the risks and that, technically, you are the hunted one in this situation."

"Tell him that if he wishes to join this... 'hunt' so to say, he needs to prepare a lot. This creature is of the myth of the Nian and has brought hell on cities before of ancient past China."

"I will."

---

A long moment later, Lanie looks back at Nathan. "Coincidentally, a 'hunting expedition' of sorts is coming to my friend very soon which I'd like to try to help him survive. Do you know anything about a Chinese dragon-demon called the Nian?"

"Yeah, I did some reading on that. It's the one associated with the Chinese New Year celebration and said to be a fearsome, horned dragon that terrorizes villages, right? It's real? We might need some oud noises, bright colors, and firecrackers if that's the case."

"It's unfortunately very real. My friend had a run in with it several years ago, and it's been hunting him ever since. He barely got away from it alive the last time... But the main problem is that, like, we don't know when exactly it'll strike again, and we can't, like, go to it and confront it directly. If you'd like to spend some time with the hunter going after a different monster or maybe just to train, there's both a risk and, well, an opportunity that the Nian will show up and, uh, things could get... complicated. Dangerous."

"How terrifying is this creature in reality? Like say, compared to the death-worm-monster-killer I told you about during the storm? I told you about it right? It was bus-width, super strong and impenetrable from attacks while not in extremely bright light." Nathan extends in hands attempting to mimic the form of the creature in a very exaggerated manner.

Lanie is quiet for a while as she looks at the carpet. To her sensitive nose, it smells intensely of cleaning agents. Internally, Dominic's admonishments combat her default impulse to plan and rescue. Speaking softer now, she finally says, "To be honest, I haven't seen it myself--only heard of it from him and saw the damage it did to him the last time. But, uh, I can say that..." Another long pause. "I..." The dog stands up and does a full body shake to mentally and emotionally reset. Then Lanie looks up at Nathan with big black eyes. She looks and sound sad. "I, uh, actually think it would be best if you made the trade and sent him hunting to bring you the spoils... Because as much as I want to form a group to, like, take on this enemy with him... getting anywhere near him is a liability. Because, um, the Nian is not the only thing that's hunting him... and, while he is a very skilled hunter, sometimes he panics and acts erratically--which can lead to a lot of trouble for his allies... I would know. I've been on four Contracts with him and, like, worked with him closely for six months." This is where the dogtor's compassion and calculation come into tension. "But ... thank you."

Nathan is surprised when he hears that and realizes if the usually compassionate dogtor suggests to not interfere then the situation is probably really bad, and he should probably reconsider death.

"I think I understand. I... Uh, thank you for your suggestion... Let the hunter know that I'll try to help in any way I can outside of confrontation, but I think I'll sit out of this one... Also ask him if he wants any augments, they'll probably be temporary for him unless he's willing to pay but I'll guarantee they'll last until he can deal with this situation. But yeah, regarding the deal, is he fine with me getting his number so I can call him? I mean I think I'd get a better feel for what he wants and is willing to give by actually talking to him. Actually, I can let him know about the 'free' augments myself if he's willing to talk."

"That's really kind of you, Nathan. He's outside of cell range, unfortunately; he, uh, lives in the wild most of the time--in part out of preference and in part out of necessity." She doesn't elaborate further. "Perhaps we can meet him in the woods... although he believes that the Nian will attack him any second..." Something feels wrong in her gut. What is it? What could have happened in the past two weeks while she was gone? Surely, he would have mentioned if something else was wrong. But when he said it was too dangerous for him to babysit, frankly, the Nian wasn't the first thing that came to her mind. "Um, I know this is a non-sequitur, but may I borrow your phone to do a quick Google search?"

"Uh sure, just, uh, don't go scrolling through the gallery. For no particular reason of course." Nathan unlocks and hands over his smartphone.

"You may watch me use it." The dog's eyes glow as the keyboards part of the screen similarly glows.

"Alright. Also, if he's outside of cell range, I guess I'll just have to rely on you to relay information."

She puts "Abbas Serna" into the search bar as she explains, "Please keep his name private. If he was an actual Network member, I wouldn't do this." And then come the flood of search results dating from 12 hours ago.

Nathan will glance over some of them, what are the titles?

According to the news headlines, "Abbas Serna" is a suspect in a crime involving multiple homicides. There's a video of a dark-skinned bulky man wearing a hat and dark colored clothes blatantly carrying a person across a ceiling (upside down) in a small truck stop in Kansas where multiple people were found dead, including the person he dragged off. The FBI is asking for any information on him from the public. There are many articles covering this very fresh incident.

"Oh."

"... Fucking idiot," the voice says as the dog growls.

Nathan stares blankly at the screen. "Are you sure he's a good person?"

"He's a monster killer, not a human killer. Not from what I've seen. But he's practically a professional at being at the wrong place at the wrong time." Lanie promptly deletes the search history on the browser for the past hour and returns the phone. She looks pissed. "... Nathan?"

"... Yeah?"

"... Would you be willing to take me to a local dog park? I think I need to, like, run."

"... Sure, elaborate while we go." Nathan will grab his bag and head out of the hotel, presumably with Lanie.

The visibly upset canine does not elaborate as the two wait outside of the hotel lobby for an Uber ride and drive to the nearest dog park. Nathan holds her leash during this time to maintain the illusion of ownership. It's a warm, sunny weekday and a bit after noon when they arrive to their destination, so there are a few other dogs and their mostly older humans there. The dog area--a green open lawn with patches of dirt and trees and bushes along the border--is fenced in, and as soon as Lanie is unleashed, she runs and runs for a solid 20 minutes. Back and forth, practically doing laps, as fast as she possibly can at a respectable speed. A golden retriever and a cocker spaniel join her for part of it, but she ignores them. And while they seem to be having a good time of it, Lanie stays laser focused until, at last, a panting, sweating Samoyed who has grass stains, bits of grass, and dirt on her lower legs returns to wherever Nathan parked himself. Now, instead of angry, she just seems tired. Regrettably, Lanie didn't bring her pack with her, so she finds herself without her a collapsible bowl and water supply. She really needs to get her stuff issue fixed.

Nathan is currently sitting on a bench scrolling through recent new articles regarding all sorts of topics, a chunk of which of the supposed murderer. As he sees the dogtor stop running he pulls out his water bottle. He gets close to the dog and whispers. "You got that out of your system?"

In response, the dog first hops up and noses the water bottle. Nathan opens it and gently pours it as Lanie laps it up as best she can. Then she noses the leash beside him and, once leashed, the dog leads him to a more secluded spot. Nathan gets a familiar phone call. "It was kind of you to take me here. Thank you." She does sound calmer now.

"No worries. Anything else you need to do here? No secret dog treasure buried here that will absolve murder or kill dragon-demons?"

"No... I ... uh, just need to let go that some of my friends are in shit loads of trouble and, like, there's nothing I can do about it. Sometimes I am not enough... And that's okay."

"Ah, sorry if that sounded insensitive, I didn't mean that. I understand feeling helpless in front of problems so large they seem unsurmountable, but hey, that's why you have a team. It's nice to focus on what you can do first."

"My team..." the dog stops walking. "They used to be my team, both of them. We went on four Contracts together--and with the other I went on a total of six. But they're in so deep now and doing, like, nothing to fix it. The hunter just tells me to stay away. Now he either doesn't know how big his problems are or he intentionally isn't telling me. And the other one..." The ears go back and the tail down. She doesn't finish the sentence. Lanie does a full body shake. "Uh, lets finish our business at the hotel, and then I'll head home--I've put that off long enough. And I'll try to get the horn for you. Until then, keep the ring just in case the deal falls through on his end."

"... Alright then. Feel free to call my anytime you need help. You obviously know how to contact me." Nathan walks the dogtor back to their hotel room, and they finish their business.

-------

The Whole Shebang

Several days after the final Mars Move, thirteen hours after "Abbas Serna" hits the news as a suspect in a crime involving multiple homicides and as a debated Illuminated individual, and twelve hours after Lanie called Dominic asking for him to send a search and rescue team to a specific location, Lanie 'calls' Dominic.

"Do you have Abbas's old IP address from when you hacked my apartment?" She sounds... annoyed.

"... I should, I hacked everything. Every device that connected, the whole shebang. Had to verify." Dominic sounds surprised, it's rare to hear Lanie annoyed.

"If the FBI gets to him before his demon does, I'm going to ask that you attempt to make him mute."

"Alright, I can... shrink his vocal cords to the point of uselessness. I'd rather he not talk about me either."

"He knows very little about you, but he knows a lot about the rest of us. And I don't think he'd handle the questioning well." There's a pause and then Lanie says, "Dark as it is, this would be a kindness to us and him, and I would coordinate his healing if he gets away ... but how will we know when we need to do it?"

"All due respect, if Abbas gets taken in, he'll kill a few FBI agents on the way down. We'll know."

The tone of annoyance melts away with a sigh. "And then he'll be blatantly guilty of fresh, rightful charges."

"Indeed, stupid charges, a tax on him trying to escape justice the only way he'll be able to. Though I imagine they'll have a harder time finding him initially and he could potentially go totally dark if he's smart but... well."

There is a long pause. "Please keep Abbas on your radar--and please watch the dogs for, like, just another another day or two until I get settled. Because I'm, uh, heading... heading, like, home now..." 

"I never let him leave it. Man hasn't swapped emails. Also safe journeys then, and.. good luck."

"Thank you, Dominic." The call ends.

Too Much, Too Many

After nearly three weeks of silence, Jason finally receives a phone call from Lanie. The profile picture is of a generic paw print and the name listed is "Alice." The two haven’t spoken to each other in nearly three weeks.

"Hello Alice." Jason's tone is somber.

"Jason..." Lanie sounds hesitant and nervous. "I-I'm so sorry I was gone, like, for so long. It wasn't my plan initially--some of the things took way more time than I expected, and I apologize." 

Almost forgetting what happened the time they last met, he continues. "Wha... Sorry? For what? I'm sooo sorry Alice, I fucked up! They took her from me... maybe us." The experienced psychologist can hear he's fighting his emotions.

Jason hears a slow inhale before she finally asks with an even, professional tone, "Who took Violet?" The FBI are the first to come to mind but that would mean Jason was also taken in... 

"The spiders, the creature. They were in the crypt... took her while I fought the Siren. She's gone!" It's taking every ounce of his enormous willpower to keep the tears back.

There's a pause as she digests the new information. "Are you wounded?"

Jason sighs. "I'll live."

"The spiders, the creature. They were in the crypt... took her while I fought the Crypt Keeper. She's gone!" It's taking every ounce of his enormous willpower to keep the tears back.

He's absolutely wounded, she thinks to herself. "Tell me what happened." 

Jason takes a few deep breathes and then relays to Alice what happened that last night at the Crypt. After his recounting of the events, he says in almost a whisper, "I really fucked up again." 

Lanie is quiet. She wants to say that she can solve this, but she knows no one who can find utterly missing children. If she had, Jason Valent would have been the first to know.

Dominic could certainly go at this from the technological angle, but if Violet was dropped off in a place with low technology or a completely different dimension... And from what it sounded like, this creature intended on Jason never finding the girl again. Inspector Bluedo could follow recent trails to an extent, but if the monster traveled by the hall of doors or teleportation, that probably wouldn't work. Lilith had blood bonded the Deckers to know their health and location at all times, but that was a proactive approach--just like putting onto Violet something marked by Dominic's tracking pen, which Alice was planning on doing. Did she come home too late?

"I'll do what I can to find her," the dog that Jason probably visualizes as a woman named Alice finally replies slowly. There is no anger or judgement in her tone, just exhaustion which she isn't bothering to hide. Then she sighs from all the things of the past three weeks--three months really. It never seemed to end, the fires that needed to be put out.

"So will I." Jason sighs again. "All I seem to do is fuck up. Maybe Dad's right. I fucked up with you, lost Violet..." He sits on the floor in the corner of his hotel room. Alice hears a soft thud as he puts his head against the wall.

Lanie takes in another slow, deep breath. With the urgency of Violet missing, she's not prioritizing unpacking Jason's tenuous relationship with his father (which she's sure she only made worse via her recent actions) AND ALSO Jason's tenuous relationship with her. "I've made my fair share of mistake too... It's only, like, an actual fuck up if we don't learn from them." That was something her mother used to tell her, although it was easier said than done. Did Alice make the mistake of leaving Violet with Jason and Abbas (each which had their own risks) for too long? Should she have taken the girl with her or maybe dropped her off at Mel's, demon and all? Dominic has been watching over them, but his reach stopped at the front door to the Crypt... She shakes her head to push away the unproductive thoughts. Lessons could be learned after Violet was recovered, if that was even possible. "I'll let you know if I find anything... and I'm glad that you're doing okay--um, like, not dead and not cursed."

"I'm out, Alice. I can't deal with this supernatural bullshit anymore. It's taken too much from me, too many times." Jason looks down at his gun considering the possibilities. "I'll find Violet, and then I'm done. I'm sorry I put unrealistic expectations on you. That's on me. I do love you, and I want you to be happy. I'll always have your back."

"... I forgive you," the dog whispers. For all of it, even this. Forgiveness is freeing, yet it does not guarantee the restoration of trust nor the returning to the way things used to be. "Uh, like, d-do you... do you forgive me?" 

Jason runs his fingers across the cold steel of his Glock 17. A smile creeps across his face. He lets out a chuckle. It doesn't sit well with the topic at hand. "There's nothing to forgive. I made the mistakes. You're finally living your dream. I respect that, but if you need to hear it, yes I forgive you." He tosses the phone across the room; no his words sound almost like a whisper. "Thank you."  Then Lanie hears one suppressed gunshot as the call ends.

"Jason?!" Lanie takes some slow breaths to try to quiet her pounding heart. He definitely did not shoot himself. That wouldn't have aligned with him finding Violet, leaving the Contracts, and always having her back. She looks from the floor up and out the window at the cloudy sky and sighs. She's in a car (a transportation service coordinated by Nathan) heading from Omaha, Nebraska, to Detroit. It seems from how he hung up that Jason has decided to go after Violet on his own, zero coordination and collaboration between them--probably something Lanie deserved for leaving him out of so many of her own plans.... Although, to be fair, she tried talking to him about the latest plans and it devolved into a fight. He'd also been cursed up until now... But, she could have done better, could have been more respectful of him in the midst of all their chaos. 

Then the dog starts to make calls.

-------

Against the Odds

About a day and a half after Violet is delivered to Midian, Edgar's built-in radio picks up a signal. "Mr. Stokes? This is Alice...". Weird that it didn't ring, Lanie thinks to herself. 

There is a strange series of organic clicks on the line before, "New Caller, eh? Your on the air."

"Doubtful," the familiar female voice replies. "My calls are confidential and supernaturally obscured."

"Are they? Are you sure? Maybe I know things you don't know."

There's a pause. "I'm absolutely confident that's true," Lanie replies slowly. But even if this was on the air, against the odds, she needed to talk with him. "If that's the case, this is going to be a brief conversation that won't mean much to your listeners."

"Sure." There's a chuckle, "I don't need to put people on blast who ain't looking for it, so don't worry about it. What brings you across my stoop then? Is it go time?"

"Thank you." He hears a sigh of relief. "Not go time, actually, as the situation has changed. My colleague has managed to kill the Detroit Crypt Keeper--the Siren--and in doing so he de-cursed himself. In the process..." How to go about explaining this accurately and concisely? Lanie is confident Edgar doesn't want or need all the details. "... the young girl we've both been caring for was, uh, removed from him by what I can only assume was another Crypt Keeper on the grounds of negligence. Apparently Violet has been re-homed with someone deemed more worthy of caring for her. Now we're both searching for her, um, separately." The last word seemed harder for her to say for whatever reason. "All that being said, my request for help has changed, like, if you're okay with that. That is, I was wondering if you have any skills or know anyone skilled in finding a missing girl?"

"Negligence. eh?"

"Based on what Jason told me--I wasn't there at the time--he, uh, basically fought the Siren and her minions with guns and grenades beside Violet... And she was increasingly harmed by the Siren's song, something which Jason could handle but Violet ... couldn't..." There is anger in her voice at the end. What was he thinking? Was he even thinking? Edgar hears a low dog growl before she continues, "It seems he nearly got her killed, and the other Crypt Keeper saved her." Her tone softens to regret. "I should never have left her with him... I didn't think he'd be so reckless--so foolish. I thought he could watch her alone like I had... I should have taken her with me..." But none of that mattered now.

"So, straight to the point Doc. Loks like the place you found this Demon kid trook her back. Before you make a buncha deals tryin' to find her again, get her back & then go about dealing with this whole demon business - are you sure that's what you wanna do? Sounds like a blessing in disguise to me."

From the Crypt and then back to it? There was something very complete about it, now that he mentioned it. There is a long pause. The truth is that, in spite of all her plans, Lanie didn't really know what to do with Violet. She didn't technically belong in a supernatural school because she didn't demonstrate any unusual powers besides being demon possessed. The demon was not a danger to Violet, and Lanie still didn't know how to handle it--whether it could be removed, killed, or tamed without harming the little girl in the process. No one who she'd asked to do some digging on the subject had found anything conclusive, which means if they tried something they'd be doing it in the dark. Guaranteed risks, no guaranteed rewards. "I don't need to be a mother, Mr. Stokes; I became what was required of me in the moment." And almost lost myself in the process. "I just want to be sure that Violet is okay--that this other Crypt Keeper put her somewhere where she's truly safe and happy, with someone who can meet her needs and help her grow... someone who isn't endangered by her demon." That's why Lanie hadn't yet searched for Violet's blood relatives. Assuming that she had found them and they were decent enough people, it's not like she could simply give them the girl.

"Sehr gut, & just to be clear - if I do this thing for you, we are clear on what was owed?"

"Yes, in full."

"Call back in a week. Do not send anyone else after the girl during that time - I don't need people muckin' up the trail & fumbling the ball."

"Okay, I will--thank you." Could he do it? If anyone could, it would be Edgar Stokes. "I, uh, have no control over Jason." Well, she could ask Dominic to body warp him a few times but that felt pretty extreme. "But... I doubt he'll get very far..." ... given his skill set, his lack of allies, and the fact that he seemed to want to go at this alone, she quietly considers to herself.

Eerily, the voice that responds is the voice of the elder Chinese man you first met, "Heehee... are we not all victims of our destiny?"

The sudden switch catches Lanie off guard. "Uh, like, perhaps.... Yet... I'll keep resisting being a victim of mine." Her tiredness is apparent in the flat tone and slow pace.

"Next week." Further messages will be ignored, but there are none.

-------

Pass The Time I

Lanie keeps unsustainably busy to pass the time and avoid worrying about her loved ones.

As usual, a round of telepathic calls are made. Lanie contacts Anna, having fallen behind on her promise to check in with the teenager. She then passes the girl's welfare on to her worried, disconnected mother. She also checks in with the Network members she hasn't heard from in a while: Theo, who requests de-transformation services (Lanie refers him to Akira for a second time) and Jason Valent who seeks new clients to trade his inventions with (Lanie connects him with Nathan Hong).

Calls to Iryna are unsuccessful to the point that Lanie looks the woman up online and learns that Iryna was recently assumed dead. She then promptly travels to California to attend a public funeral coordinated by Leon Vanderblight and, surprisingly, attended by Iryna! The trip lasts a day longer than Lanie had originally expected as she treats their mental health issues. 

---

In a private conversation with Leon Vanderblight, Lanie describes her last wishes, which the kitsune has generously offered to carry out upon her untimely passing:

• Inform Keara Star, Dr. Melanie Dakkera, and Jason Decker
• Hold a public celebration of life party announcing her death that's themed as a masquerade
• Cremate her (so that there's lower odds someone will mess with her body) and spread her ashes in the San Francisco Botanical Garden
• Gift her pomski to Bu Fang (because he knows what to do with it)

Leon will take this information and scribe it onto a page of a sketch pad, his skill with the pen detailing a rather idyllic scene with lots of people looking somber, but celebrating. Though she does see him erase a few times indicating his natural dexterity probably compensates for some of his penmanship skills.

"I know a celebration of life party with masks is odd, but many of my friends wouldn't want to come in such a way that revealed their identities. And I'd prefer not to give you a comprehensive contact list, for similar reasons. If it's public they can learn of it and come if they want to." She looks at the sketch. "Yes, something like that. For a woman who's had a lot of different 'lives' in a short period of time, a masquerade seems fitting."

"It's understandable. You don't know me that well, and I'm agreeing to arbiter an occasion of great importance. Although you do have my word that I will do my best to protect all who attend for the duration of the event. I know that some would see this as a chance to tie up loose ends. As disgusting as a concept as that is, it is one for which a grave tender must prepare."

"... Don't be concerned if you fail to keep the peace. I never guaranteed to my allies that they would get along--and I know for a fact that some of them don't..." A pause before she adds. "I have no enemies... What can I do to thank you for doing all of this?"

"There is no expectation of compensation for this service, though I appreciate any people chose to give. This is a deed I do because so many pay no respect to the memory of those who pass Lanie. So many have died completely forgotten, others have refused the burial when offered. I have buried people I hated, and more than I would like. I have buried those I love. Yet, in maintaining those graves for those who they leave behind I aim to leave them with a measure of peace and knowledge that their friend or loved one is honored in their passing though their spirit has gone to join their family's kami."

"It wouldn't be compensation but rather an expression of my gratitude. As a mental health provider, the traditions of death play a key role in helping the living keep, well, living. What you've offered--something that no one else has offered, and I see that you will do it to the best of your abilities--is priceless to me because of my love for my friends and family. Peace, as you said." The white fluffy dog looks down, full of thought for a moment, and then back up at the tall, incredibly handsome man standing before her. "But how would you find my body or know when I've died?"

"I have my ways of knowing these things but don't worry. None of them will involve any manner of tracking that violates your privacy while you're alive. To give you an honest answer, I am also well-connected, and I will likely hear the story of your death. Either through the news or through a professional acquaintance. Aside from that, I can see visions of the moment someone dies if I've got the right tools and can collect the context, and from there if your body is in the hands of some foul organization they will die painfully for their crimes, though from the sounds of it, I am not the only one who will be interested in doing as such, and otherwise even if it's half-decayed or blasted to pieces I can restore your remains to their full intact state with some work and then you will be allowed the luxury of an open casket funeral. A service free of charge so long as there is a body to find."

Lanie smiles at the reassurance of her privacy, in part at the knowledge that her custom collar sending information on her location that very moment to Dominic. "You're a creature of diverse talents, Mr. Vanderblight. I'm a creature of a singular talent but one which has already served many in our line of work. Speaking of which, you had requested a house visit. How exactly do I get to your home--something involving a swamp as a gateway to an alternate dimension Russian bog--maybe Florida?"

Leon nods amicably, and chuckles as he says: "A swamp, the ability to dream, and an incantation is needed. From there you can access my domain, though it is shared with a few others at the moment and we prepare for a grand event in time. We have just recently finished repaving the streets with marble and renovating many of the homes thanks to the demon I made you aware of prior, a small but industrious lad, quite good at his job and a far cry from when I had to carry the hammers and nails personally as well to build it up from mud shacks in a kami forsaken corner of the world. I would say that you could prepare for culinary delights the likes of which you'd never experienced, but from what I hear you already know Bu Fang. Though... there is one gap for things I have need of for the coming months. I am a talented artist, and thus can provide quality base concepts and materials but I lack an exceptional craftsman. I have a number of exceptional party favors to prepare and someone with talent and ability I feel could use the work rather than me trying trial and error."

No one describable as an "exceptional craftsman" comes to the dog's mind, but she promises to let him know if she comes across someone.

---

Upon returning home with a unique funeral favor (is that really a thing?) and a new task for Leon, Lanie continues down her to-do list.

After wandering the forest for several hours, nose to the ground, the dog finally finds Abbas's hideout and digs up the thunderbird horn. The rest of the hideout appears to be in working order, as though Abbas had just stepped away (she could smell the hidden explosives but she couldn't smell the archer nearby). Pocketing the horn as best she can in her dog pack, the dog then makes her way out of the forest on four paws. However, after two hours of hiking, she stops when she first smells and then sees smoke rising from the direction she just left. Shit, Abbas... Heaving a sigh, the dog turns around and makes her way back.

After another hour or so, the dog wanders into an evacuation shelter and quickly establishes trust with a middle-aged man who has burnt hands, the operator of the evacuation shelter, and the lead emergency medic. This allows her to spend the next two hours  supernaturally healing only the most severely burned patients to stabilize their wounds and save their lives. In total, 13 patients were healed by the dogtor, some of them conscious and others not. The medic did his best to give the dog privacy while she worked, for the sight of a white fluffy dog with a blood, ash, and bits of burnt flesh on her muzzle licking patients was bound to prompt questions. Perhaps this would be another step towards Lanie's Illumination before she wanted it to be, but at the moment that didn't matter. Once her strength was nearly spent, the dog asked the medic to take her home after all of this was done (just for a day so she could rest). And then she performed her final "miracle" before collapsing to the dirty ground, unconscious from overexertion.

Lanie later awakes in the medic's Bachelor pad in Chicago, as promised. The two discuss her healing abilities and aspirations, although she keeps her backstory and other Gifts private. He also mentions Emily Miller attempted to take Lanie using 'force' but he prevented her from doing so, fearing Lanie would be dissected by Gen-Wyld. A few hours later, the medic kindly drops Lanie off a few blocks away from the now mundane, unoccupied, defunct Detroit museum so that she can continue down her to-do list (albeit slowly, for the dog is still exhausted from the day before). She retrieves a Decker family photo and the Tigrex armor, abandoning the rest. The dog intentionally steers clear of the nearby apartment, which she assumes will be soon be turned over now that the person on the lease (Alice Decker) is dead and no one has occupied it for a bit now.

She also makes two more phone calls during the long, expensive, six-hour Uber ride from Detroit, MI, to Salem, Indiana. Abbas cannot be reached, but Emily Miller can.

-------

Different Types of Beasts

Emily was standing on the balcony of her hotel, looking over the horizon.  The fire had been contained, or at least enough for them to move on.  The horizon still seemed to glow some. She held a cigarette in her paw, blowing the smoke out into the air.  It was a nice view, though, and... her phone starts to ring from inside.  She lets out a breath, dropping it and crushing it under a massive paw before heading inside.  Lanie?  She picks it up. "Hello?"

"Hello Emily." An adult woman's voice, American West Coast accent, in a professional tone. "I heard you tried to evacuate me with the rest of the humans from the shelter. I just wanted to thank you for the kind gesture."

There's a pause.   "Tried to evacuate--"  It takes her a moment to connect the fluffy Samoyed she'd seen on the phone to the one in the shelter... but they were somewhat memorable.  "Uh.  You're welcome."  She had not imagined they were a talking dog.  "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright now. I just exhausted myself healing the critically injured. But I knew that would happen so I requested that the medic take me home and let me rest there. That's probably why he was so insistent--I doubt it was anything about you personally..." A pause. Well... "Gen-Wyld aside." 

"That's good."  She settled back into a seat, feeling it creak under her.  She was always a tiny bit worried that these hotel chairs would break under her.   "That makes sense-" She starts.  "Mmm.  Gen-wyld are good people. By and large.  I'm glad you're feeling better now, though."

"The ghouls may disagree." The dry statement is punctuated by a distinctly dog-like snort. "But that's a different matter. I'd like to discuss some other business, something we'll probably agree on: your CryptoLink. At some point I'm going to Illuminate myself and I'd then like to join the website. However, I cannot afford the Gold or Platinum Tiers because, as an animal, I have no assets--or rights, for that matter. Perhaps we can come to some other agreement for payment?" 

There's a pause as she considers a response before just letting it drop.  She nods slightly.   "... um.  To be clear,  you're a talking dog?" - as an animal - "Cryptids - non- humans- can make platinum level profiles for free,  as long as we can verify you really are one."

"Oh, I was unaware of that--that's a nice set up! Yes, I am a sapient, telekinetic, telepathic therapy dog… although I might leave out the 'telekinetic' part for the sake of privacy. The kidnapping risk is very high for a small portable creature like myself, so it's best to keep at least one card up my--uh, in my fur, so to speak." 

"Yup.  Mmm, guess that's a failure of marketing.  We'll make it clearer on the website."

She nods some.   "Fair enough.  You can reveal as much or as little as you're comfortable with...  typically we meet in person to do verification.  Is that okay?"

"Yes, that's fine. There's really no other way to do it, frankly. I'm not quite ready--I have a lot of things going on right now and going public is going to make my life more complicated." The dog certainly sounds tired. "I'll contact you when I'm ready." After a pause she adds, "Also, I'm a mental health professional. Once I'm verified and have a profile up--or sooner if you'd like--my therapeutic services are available to you free of charge. While we are different types of beasts, we both have a soul, fur, and four paws. The world treats us differently because of it, for better and for worse." 

Emily considers for a moment, and nods.  "Of course.  Whenever you're ready, and... I appreciate it.  Truly.  I tend to rely on my boyfriend for those kinds of services --"  Which tended to just be getting piss-drunk together --" But I'll keep it in mind.  The reverse is true--if you ever need help, either... well, with force, or money or contacts or such... we should stick together.   Let me know when you want to get verified."

"I'm glad you have what you need, and thank you--I really appreciate it. We'll be in touch." The call ends. The caller information lingers for just a moment on the screen before it goes dark. If the phone is checked, there is no evidence of there ever being a call. 

"Huh." She considers for a moment, and decides that's not the weirdest thing she's seen by a good bit.  She heads back to the balcony, lighting another cig.

--------

Pass The Time II

The recently hired 24-hour bodyguard, Sierra Thomason, finally meets her employer in the flesh (fur?) the following day. They meet in a hotel room near Lanie's two new properties in Indiana. The woman in her thirties takes the discovery that her employer is a dog rather well, all things considered. In a conversation a week ago, Sierra had agreed to accept unconventional payment for her security services: the deed to the second property at a rate of $1,000 per day (for Lanie doesn't have an identity to hold onto it anyways--the other house was immediately put into Mel's name). Thus, in 175 days, the dog will be living with Sierra in Sierra's house (not the other way around). Additional cash is provided upfront to cover the cost of Sierra's move, settling into the new space, and the first few months of living expenses. Sierra is eventually expected to bring in a little income of her own by working from home or outside of the home for no more than five hours a day in a setting where Lanie can be beside her, a task which the woman agrees to since she likes to stay busy. After new furniture is picked out, delivered, and arranged, Dominic sends over Lanie's dogs. The pomski, the two bloodhounds, several non-poisonous plants, and a newfound human friend make this new home cozy and full of life.

She checks in with Minerva to confirm that she received the Connor Inks tattoo, the payment from the small errand they ran together on behalf of a confidential client. The two girls are doing fine, especially after Lanie addresses Minerva's latest mental health issue. Addressing it long distance is yet another discovery for Lanie, who concludes that the limits of her therapeutic services were far less than she had originally assumed. Based on this discovery, she immediately sends Leon Vanderblight a warded phone to be able to communicate with his children and work on healing their exceptionally broken minds remotely. This takes up the remaining few days, and the task isn't anywhere close to being done when a full week finally passes.

-------

Mommy

Exactly one week later, Edgar gets the expected phone call from the Doc. "Punctual. When can you get to Philly?"

Lanie sharply inhales. Did he find her? "In about five or six hours."

"Great. Do that. Call back when you get here."

Here? "Alright. Am I heading to the office?" Or was he being intentionally obscure with her real destination?

"Office. Sure. Time's a-wasting..."

The call ends.

---

There is a sticky note stuck to the door with GPS coordinates. Underneath that it says, "Come Alone."

A tall, fit, freckled woman in her mid-thirties walking a white Samoyed wearing a dog pack arrive to the outside of the office in Philly. The woman pulls the note off of the door, glances over it, and then kneels down and shows it to the dog. After the dog reads it, the two look at each other for a long quiet moment. Then the woman replaces the dog's collar (putting a second one on before taking the first one off) and pockets the old one, slips the note into the dog's pack, and gets back into the rental car. The dog runs off down the street, seeking a private place to look up the location on her burner phone. Once she does, she wipes it and then breaks with a toothy crunch. Phones taste so very terrible.

A dog with no apparent owner wearing a dog pack attempts to subtly make its way across town...

---

After passing by the parking lot and the dilapidated cemetery entrance, a lone medium-sized white dog wearing a bright orange dog pack circles the one-armed statue, sniffing. She hasn't smelled Lao Chi yet, although there is the smell of something else unfamiliar that has passed by here. 

The dog takes a seat, controlling her impulse to chase the dark brown squirrel about 60 feet away that's clearly mocking her with its annoying chittering and fluffy tail swishing. And an unhealthy crow perched atop a crooked tombstone a bit further away. And that bush over there with a bunch of little chirpy birds in it. Goodness, this place mercilessly teased at the dog's sanity...

Some time passes. The graveyard shows signs of both neglect & the ravages of the Ghould Rush, & the horrors that accompanied it. Signs abound, declaring "GHOUL FEVER - This ground has been certified as Contaminated. Do Not Disturb!"

Beyond that, the area is strangely peaceful, an island of calm in a busy city. The Samoyed detects strange scents here, many otherwise unfamiliar. Her keen ears will hear the sounds of scratching below the earth, like mice might make under snow ... but you suspect these are not mice. The sun begins to set, & the shadows grow long.

Having a perpetual arctic coat is a mixed bag. Comfortable 70 degree homes felt like a 100 degree weather to her, yet the damp cold air with a slight breeze in the graveyard felt perfectly refreshing and comfortable.

Lanie doesn't know all that much about ghouls. She knew Edgar Stokes was one based on his now two bold public statements--one to the news stations and one on hijacked radio airwaves. They were part of the undead family maybe? And they commonly lived in graveyards, although she wasn't sure why (mostly due to a lack of setting the time aside to figure it out). She is, however, fairly certain that ghouls don't eat living dogs and that dogs cannot get Ghoul Fever. Furthermore, should she turn into a human briefly for ease of communicating and catch it here, she knew of at least one Contractor (probably more, sadly) who could promptly get her some human flesh to consume--like, without going out of their way.

The dog, now laying down on a bed of bent grass (created from circling a bit as dogs do), shutters at the prospect. 

Seeing no one around still and anxious to pass the time, the dog's eyes glow for a moment as a pocket of her pack unzips. A thick rawhide bone glowing silver is tugged out of it and drops to the ground. She carefully holds it upright between her paws and starts to chew, a bit faster than usual. The rhythmic motion and the indescribably delicious flavor help her relax. 

Up above her are the screeches and fluttering sounds of bats out for their evening catch. This place is literally crawling with insects, which is especially apparent as the evening approaches. 

The night air is indeed filled with movement, & subtle sounds that demand attention. Next to the statue, there is a soft clop of hoof scraping marble - a figure stands there, the lights of the city clearly visible through it's translucent, shimmering form. A ripple of electricity courses over it, revealing a creature - one you know to be a Ghoul on site considering the media hysteria. "Explains the Paw Print," it mutters, in a voice familiar to you, "Never can be too careful, sorry you had to wait. We needed to make sure yinz weren't feelin' clever today."

The dog, now standing and alert with a low tail, sniffs the air in this creature's direction. So this was what Edgar Stokes really looked, sounded, and smelled like.

Lanie snorts at his comment. She wasn't a fool enough to get 'clever' with someone of his status. She had even left behind her GPSed collar so that Dominic wouldn't know where she was, making talking much less convenient. She looks up at him quietly, expectantly. 

"So ... this will be a strange reunion. A Girl & her Dog." The Ghoul looks over to the Tombs nearby, "Hey RugRat! You got a visitor!" Lanie will hear Edgar produce a high frequency signal at the same time he shouts.
"Brace yourself, doggo. kids grow up fast, yeah? This one more than most (meep!)."

A distinctly animal-like four-year-old girl with a white and light grey mottled hide for skin; unusually large solid black eyes; thick blonde fur on her head, neck, shoulders, and down her back resembling a mane; and dark callouses resembling animal pads on her hands and feet emerges from the tombs. She wears a short shirt and shorts (both which appear to be made of spider webs), and she is covered in a layer of dirt from head to toe. Despite her altered appearance and unusual attire, by her scent and squeal of delight Lanie immediately understands that this is Violet.

The girl scampers over on all fours at first and then upright before embracing the dog, who simply stands there, stunned. 

"Doggy!" Violet declares with joy.

Lanie looks over at Edgar, ears back, tail down, head slightly tilted to one side--visibly overwhelmed and confused. 

The Ghoul shrugs, mold-caked shoulders rolling with an audible pop.

Violet begins to pet Lanie a bit haphazardly, which the dog ignores. A spikey, shifting halo appear around the dog's head and a fainter one around the girl's head--a mental health check up of sorts. Violet immediately begins trying to play with the dog's halo. She giggles as her hand passes through it. "Lookie lookie, Edgar!"

After a couple of seconds the halos vanish. Instead, the dog's eyes glow silver for a moment as the collar snaps off and the canine reforms into a familiar young woman wearing a designer sweater, white linen pants, a black cloth facemask, a scarf, gloves, pearl earrings, and sunglasses (which she immediately pulls off). De-transforming was a questionable decision, but Lanie had many questions and she wasn't willing to stay hidden and risk not getting the answers.

"MOMMY!" Violet declares, hugging the woman's leg (which would definitely leave a dirt mark). 

The woman gets down on her knees and returns the hug. "Violet, are you okay? Do you have any ouchies?"

The girl answers indirectly with, "Where's Daddy? Where's Scratch?" 

The woman responds with some tickles, "I'll get Scratch soon, okay?"

"But, but I want--" The tickles prove to be a sufficient distraction as the girl starts to rolls on the ground with laughter which Lanie tries to enjoy too despite, well, everything. After a brief bout of that, Violet runs off in the direction she had come (again on all fours) from without any explanation, giving Lanie a moment to turn to Edgar. With a solemn tone and furrowed brow, she asks, "Where did you find her?" 

"Here." The Ghoul perches on the marble bench like some hideous gargoyle come alive. "I found her here. Turns out I am the party more fit to look out for the little rat. Who'd have guessed?" He tosses his head for a moment, like an animal might, before muttering, "Not me, that's for sure (meep)." 

Lanie's eyebrows raise and she glances back in the direction of the girl, smelling the air for her. Violet's still moving away from them, it seemed.

"You..." Lanie repositions to be seated with crossed legs on the ground a few feet away. Edgar didn't find Violet then; he had her. "That ... is ..." She didn't want to sound rude, although it seemed both adults were on about the same page. This creature didn't come across as the parental type by any means. But Edgar Stokes was undoubtedly competent; in fact, he was the most powerful being she knew. He was... sort of the exact opposite of Jason Decker, the more she thought about it. "... Do you want to watch her?" 

"Sure, why not?" The woman is given a crocodile grin for her trouble. "This place; it's a hidey hole for those that don't fit in, don't belong. Kid was brought to me because that's what I do with the Power we've won, yeah? Look out for those who don't otherwise have the means. I bet you thought I was just in it to eat people - typical, sheesh." 

The smell of Edgar's breath and the nasty state of his teeth make Lanie grimace in response. "You probably could've stopped after five Contracts if, like, eating people was your end goal," she retorts. There is the distant sound of rustling bushes and crunching leaves, Violet returning. But Lanie wasn't done yet. "Uh, did you find her like that? She used to look like a normal girl..."

"No." The strange, eyes of the ghoul glimmer orange, "At least - no, she was never a normal girl. You found a girl in the Crypt, but she was never going to be normal. She is what she has always been, just looks the part now. Maybe that's from being here - maybe that's because she doesn't need to pretend to be what she isn't anymore. I'm no expert on kids, but I know quite a bit about Changelings. Which is what we have here. Try to raise her like she is what she isn't, people will get hurt, she will get killed: most like by Godly types looking to "save" her." There is a freakishly low rumbling sound, almost like an engine stripping gears - a soft growl from Edgar Stokes at the very idea. "Still, you are the Doc, yeah? Also: you are Mom. So I took that week to look into things, about who was involved, what was the best course, decided I'd risk everyone to come through, let you see that she is safe - I did owe you after all. Now, that debt is paid ... question is: what now?" 

Lanie closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and sighs. "So that's why it chose you..." The Crypt Keeper had decided that this was Violet's place in the world, among these hidden, lurking creatures of the night. To be fair, this was better than isolation (the decrepit, abandoned ruins that Lanie and Jason first found Violet in) and better than the museum crypt (where their enemies were always right around the corner). "Now... ?" The girl is definitively safe here. Despite the filth, she seems happy (frankly, she was always happier dirty than clean). She doesn't appear to be injured nor famished, and she has no mental health issues from what Lanie can tell. Given her physical developments, there is no going back to being among humans. Even if her appearance could be masked or altered, Lanie can hardly protect herself and navigate life as a non-human--much less Violet. And she dared not return Violet to Jason, risking bringing the wrath of another Crypt Keeper upon them all.

"Now..." The woman repeats as she looks at the ground and sorts through the thoughts and emotions while listening to Violet slowly approach. It sounds like she's dragging something.

This wasn't what Lanie had envisioned for Violet's future. Yet, did she really see the girl going to school, getting a job, having a group of friends, and falling in love? Maybe Lanie did in a dream that at one time felt within reach--one where her and Jason lived happily together (and Mel, Keara, and Abbas were neighbors). The woman suddenly looks straight at Edgar. "... you have my gratitude, and I become a part of her past."

The collar is snapped on, and the dog rushes off into the thick underbrush. Edgar's many keen senses inform him that she isn't far off and, by the sudden stillness, is likely hiding. 

Violet finally emerges from behind a tomb into the clearing with the sideways rocking horse in tow. She looks around. "Mommy?" The little beastly girl with pitch black eyes turns to Edgar quizzically. 

"Brought the horse all the way up from below? Stubborn, ain't ya?" Hopping down from the marble bench, Edgar ruffles Violet's mane with his gnarled talons, "Sorry kiddo - Mom had to go, probably saw a squirrel. Why don't you grab Mickey & Benjie & see if you can find her? Remember, it's a game where you don't want to get seen first, yeah?"

"Game!" Enthralled, Violet runs back into the warren to fetch her playmates, temporarily abandoning Bite.

And then the lone dog leaves the ghoul, his daughter, and the rest of his pack for good. The chew bone is forgotten.

Edgar shoulders the abandoned horse with ease, watching as the white dog leaves, making a mental note to point the others towards Cobbs Creek when they come up. Kid could probably use a bath. "Humans." He snorts to himself. "Was I that discombobulated once? Our doggo has a long road ahead, a paw in both worlds - don't envy walking that way again ... still. Good deed done? Or did I just get us all killed?" The ghosts of the graveyard have no answers as he walks off with the rocking horse. "Guess we'll burn that bridge when we get there."

-------

Everything is Alright

About a week after Abbas battles against the several Nian dragons in the crispy forests of Michigan (setting it alight) and just a few hours after he finally replaces his burner phone, the monster hunter receives a 'call' from Lanie. No one he knows has his new phone number yet and so the sound of a foreign ringtone in his pocket may be surprising.

Abbas picks up the phone a little confused for a moment before looking at who the caller is and knowing who it is. "Greetings Lanie, how are you?"

"ABBAS YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"I'm pretty sure I am? Everything alright?"

Lanie's tone shifts from worry to a bland professionalism with underlying annoyance, a speech pattern Abbas has witnessed Lanie use with Jason when they were fighting (although with his limited social skills he might not make the connection). "The forest you were hiding in where I know you buried explosives extensively catches on fire and then people burn to death and then I cannot reach you for over a week. You tell me if everything is 'alright'."

"Oh... uh... oops... I tried to make sure they wouldn't set fire, covered them with rocks and all. The Nian ended up actually being on fire." Abbas has the same tone as one would imagine a child being caught in trouble as he tries to defend himself.

Abbas's meekness doesn't abate Lanie's mostly hidden wrath. She highly values life, whether it's animals or people. The explanation that the monster was on fire doesn't seem to satisfy her. "You're the reason the Nian went into the forest. Your actions indirectly led to seventeen people dying and countless more injured, not to mention all the wildlife--and natural disasters can be highly traumatizing." The dog snorts (disapprovingly). "Firefighters, law enforcement, and numerous supernaturals risked their lives to clean up your mess--some of them even getting Illuminated in the process. The next time the Nian comes, you will be in an artic wasteland or a desert because this is NOT happening again." There's a pause after she gives that crystal clear command. "Now, what are you going to do to make this right?" The way she asks the question, Abbas can tell he'd better not say 'nothing'.

"I ... plan on trying to - the general area again. Now that its been burned down--sorry--the soil is filled with nutrients and Ill try to see if I can find something to accelerate their growth and plant it nearby. Sadly... i cant do anything about the lost lives, but I do have a clue on the Nian, and I will be going to a much further place next time."

The dog is quiet for a long moment. 'Find something to help the forest regrow' didn't seem like much of a lead, more like a distant promise. At the same time, this wasn't exactly the monster hunter's area of expertise, and he is at a minimum a person of interest to the FBI. What did she expect him to do? "The small town of Baldwin nearly burned to the ground. I know you have some financial resources at your disposal, resources you hardly use since you live off of the land. How about making several large anonymous donations to the Vorobyova Foundation? I'll make sure it gets directed to the rebuilding efforts and the funerals of the fire victims--in addition to you looking for ways to accelerate the forest's regrowth." Her underlying anger is abating. What was done was done, and how Abbas had handled everything would impact their relationship going forward. 

"Alright, I'll send over all the excess I wont be using ... sorry." Abbas sounds rather remorseful. "Did you mean to call me about something else though? You usually don't tend to call me." 

There is another long pause as Lanie processes the fact that only now, when confronted by a close friend, Abbas seems to understand the consequences of his actions--consequences that make him remorseful but otherwise unshaken. People and animals died, she keeps thinking. Supernaturals were revealed. A forest burned. But she had said those things already on the generous assumption that his head was in the sand or clouds--that he had no clue. The information seems to have more weight to her than to him which is undeniably concerning. Why did she call? Because she cared. But now that she knows he's alive, what else did she have to tell him? There is indeed a list of potential things to share involving Jason and Violet, involving her and her future plans, and involving Abbas exclusively. But Abbas had proven in the past that he struggled when interrogated--not surprising given his social skills. And he hadn't asked about her yet, so perhaps focusing on him would be the wisest. "Are you injured?" She thinks back to when the Nian last attacked Abbas, the bandages on his arms and chest. This man does not have the situation under control...

Abbas nods a little thinking about how Lanie usually is, but then thinks to himself a little as well. Was he injured? Not really; he played it as safe as possible... Though maybe mentally damaged for sure, but does that count? Probably not, right? Would she care enough? Ehhh, just in case he will hold it in. "Nope, I played it as safe as I could... though I think I was too safe... Anyways, I'm otherwise all good physically. How about you? Everything all good on your side?"

Good physically? Lanie notices. She'd make a poor mental health practitioner if she couldn't read in between the lines (and Abbas isn't hard to read). She knew of his emotional distress over the loss of his family; surviving another attack by the Nian had to be upsetting. She also knew of his compulsion to kill monsters. However, Abbas wished to keep that as a part of himself. He wasn't ready to let it go yet, and Lanie respected his decision even if she disagreed with it. To have failed to kill his arch nemesis yet again had to be frustrating. "I'm glad you're safe. Yes, I'm alright." Frankly, the dog is exhausted from staying unsustainably busy and all the recent drama that just went down in her personal life, but that isn't anything unusual (and it isn't something she needs Abbas for to process emotionally--which would probably be about the same as talking to a wall). "I dug up the thunderbird horn right before the forests caught fire and shipped it to my contact. They'd like to pay you now. I was thinking you could stop by the backyard of the museum to pick up the ring." Jason was no longer there, but, again, that was a very long story.

"Good to hear you're alright. I'll be coming over soonish." Abbas doesn't seem to suspect anything, though maybe that can just be chalked up to him being seemingly more emotionally distant than usual. "I recently saw something on a board for a hunt. Something causing trouble for others so if they're willing to come, tell them to check out the horned serpent. I believe I still owe them a hunt? Can you contact them for me please." 

"Where would the hunt take place? And where are you right now?"

"South Dakota, the Midwest. I'm currently in Cleveland."

"I'm not sure if they're interested in participating in a hunt still, but I'll check in with them and get back to you soon. Where should they meet you in South Dakota, like, if they are still interested?"

"Lake Ohae’s."

"Okay. So that I don't have to keep calling back and forth, anywhere specifically in Lake Ohae’s? And when should they meet you?"

"Wrangler Inn, at the edge of the Indian reservation and the lake. At the dawn of morning, around 8 am" 

"Okay. Let me get back to you." The call between two allies who have much on their minds and are uncharacteristically keeping their cards close to their chest finally ends. 

Ten minutes later, Lanie calls Abbas back. "Okay, be at the inn tomorrow at 8 AM. Also... would you like me to pass your new phone number on to Jason?" 

"if you'd like, I don't mind. I will... be mostly alone from now until you guys need me, I need to take care of this Nian issue."

"I understand." Frankly, Abbas has way more issues than that to take care of, but this is a start. She gets the number and then the call ends. 

-------

Under Control

A week or so after the wildfires of Michigan, while Iryna and Akira (among others) are planting seeds in the scorched ash-covered hillsides, Iryna's phone gets a call from the woman she had first met as Mel and who she now knows from her funeral to be a white dog named Lanie--a white dog she might have recognized in the news, the unconscious one that Emily almost picked up from an evacuation shelter.

“Hello Lanie, what can I do for you? Having any troubles after the fire?”

"Not me personally, no." Lanie sounds very tired. "The medic I asked to take care of me did so vigilantly, although I wouldn't have minded waking up in the care of the Gen-Wyld werewolf. It would have been a networking opportunity..." A pause as she swallows and decides on her course of action. Speaking with a lower tone, the dog says, "Iryna, I know who accidentally started the fires--I know why it happened--and I'd like to try to prevent this from happening in the future. If that's something you're willing to partner with them on, then I'll try to connect you both. However, there is a catch that makes this more complicated than it seems."

Iryna’s voice shifts to icy, a faint crackling as if the air around her had frosted over. “And what would be this… catch?”

Lanie sighs. "Several actually. First, they are at a minimum a suspect of interest for the FBI and at a maximum outright wanted. That means that any visible associations with them might be problematic to you and others--if not now then in the future. Second, they are extremely distrusting. That means that I'll either need to persuade them to receive help with the underlying issue that they're failing to handle ... or I'll need to force them into receiving help--essentially trap them."

“I see. Well, my comfort with something like this depends entirely on the nature of the federal government’s interest. Is it just the arson?”

"Not at all. They are likely a murder suspect for the brutal death of Dallas Smith, former FBI officer and fellow Contractor, several months ago in Chicago. They did not murder them and I know who did; it was a wrong place at the wrong time situation. Similarly, they are a crime suspect in a recent incident involving multiple dead civilians at a truck stop in Texas. I'm not sure of their level of involvement that led to those deaths. However, I'm sure that the situation was a part of one of our jobs because they rarely come into civilization otherwise."

“Okay, so you want me to help this arsonist, wanted as a suspect for serial murder. How do you think I can help here? Intimidation doesn’t tend to work on those in our profession, and that’s the only way I could make someone decide to stop setting fires. Unless… of course… this is not something they have control over?”

"They do not have full control, no... Well, they did bury small explosives in their hideout in the forest which could have caught the forest on fire. There is a less then zero chance that happened. And if that didn't do it, there is a decent chance the creature they were fighting was on fire--which may explain how so much of the forest alighted so quickly."

The line goes quiet for a few moments, you can hear Iryna saying something on the other side, but unable to make out what it is. Eventually her voice will return, defeated but clear: “I’ll help. BUT; I need the full story, and if I hear something that makes me question why I’m helping him more than I already am, I reserve the right to withdraw my agreement at any time.”

Lanie responds firmly, "There is no agreement, frankly. They are not a Network member. If you do this to any extent, it would be a favor to the wildlife and the environment. That being said, I'd be happy to give the full story--all that I know."

“Then let me hear it.”

"According to them, the person in question lived with their wife and child in the forests of the Amazon until their family was torn apart, eaten by a monster--a Chinese dragon called the Nian. That happened over a year ago, maybe two by now. That's what drove them to accept these jobs. Now they are a monster hunter, seeking to amass power and get revenge on the creature that ruined their life. I ran into them four times on the jobs and worked with them for three. On one of the jobs they, like, up and vanished from the team right before the dangers arrived and later said they had no control over their vanishing. However, they do have a supernatural ability to almost fully vanish from sight (not smell), so that situation continues to be questionable to me. After essentially leaving behind me and my teammate--willfully or not--they returned later and cared for us in our, uh, unique situation. We failed that job miserably, and it led to numerous problematic side effects. Since then, we have been in contact for many months. They've helped with babysitting a young girl I took in for a while and also guarded me a bit while I expanded the Network--that was the near-invisible one who accompanied me when I first met you in the parking lot. From how they interacted with her, I can tell that they experienced great loss in the past involving a child. But, back to the issue at hand... it seems the Nian is going to continue attacking them at random intervals until they slay or otherwise deal with it. The incident in the forest was the third attack to my knowledge, the first one involving their family and the second one being last Chinese New Year where the creature suddenly showed up in their apartment. I am ... not well suited to deal with attacking beasts, especially ones that are on fire. Supposedly they are--this friend of mine--but if they really were then they would have the situation under control by now. Which is why I'm reaching out to you."

“I see. Very well, let us do this.”

"Thank you." Lanie did just say this wasn't a favor to her, but she also just described this person as a friend. There is a long pause before the dog continues. "They wouldn't accept help from me with this in the past... so while it's not my preferred approach by any means, I honestly think that intimidation would be the best way to get them to accept help this time. I'm aware of one time when they crumbled under pressure from another Contractor, so it's not too much to expect it to happen again. Here's what I have in mind: I send them to a specific, discreet location to pick up something of theirs that I have. Once they arrive, I can either pull on one of my contacts to remotely disable them so that they cannot get away OR you will have to secure and confront them yourself--you and anyone else you want to involve in this. Keep in mind that they can be very difficult to see. Once they're secured, all you need to do is share that you helped put out the fires and you figured out that they were the cause--and they should at that point open up about their whole situation."

“And what would the remote disabling entail?”

"I know someone who can make them ... no longer walk." They could also make Abbas blind, but that felt like even more of a crime. "If that card is used, I obviously don't desire that they be disabled indefinitely. I intend on asking Akira for help with restoring their legs once the conversation is over."

“I would suggest having such a card on standby, providing he takes off as soon as I introduce myself.”

"I--knowing him, like, I'm confident he will, so I agree. Let’s be on the line when you confront him..." Lanie sighs again. Now she sounds mildly annoyed. "This almost feels like dirty work but the fact is that people died, animals died, and a forest burned because of him." And he seems to be taking little to no personal responsibility for it, she keeps to herself.

“Speaking of which…" Iryna adds, "do you know anyone who can speak to animals?”

The sudden change of topic is, frankly, refreshing for Lanie. "If I do, they haven't mentioned it. Let me ask around and get back to you."

“Thank you. Regardless of that, let’s get this plan with this man set up.”

"... I don't know if all of this effort will be fruitful. Part of the issue is that he doesn't know exactly when the beast will attack him--although this time he seemed to have some warning signs in advance. Still, this whole thing just needs to get more under control. Thanks again, and we'll be in touch once I coordinate the details." The call ends.

-------

Properly Intimidated

A telepathic call from Lanie to Dominic:

"Abbas accidentally burned down a forest and a town in Michigan--killing seventeen innocent civilians and countless animals--after fighting off the attacks of a mythical beast that has been tenaciously hunting him for the past year or two. I want to corner him into accepting some help with this issue because I don't want it happening again, and he's proven that he cannot handle it on his own. He won't accept help from me on the grounds that I'm not built for combat--and I can't say he's wrong. However, if he gets properly intimidated he may accept help from someone else. My plan is to send him to a discreet location to pick up a supernatural item that I helped him trade for. I'll also send another Contractor there, someone who has a vested interest in more forests not burning. She'll confront him--telling him that she figured out he was the arson--and then, ideally, the two will have an honest chat about his situation. However, it's more likely that he'll immediately flee when he sees her. If she can't restrain him for a conversation ... I would appreciate if you can remotely disable him--perhaps, like, make his legs less functioning--so that he can't run away... because I won't let him run away from this." The dog sighs. "I don't like the setup, but I also don't now what else to do." Her tone drops. "He seemed to not even know what he had done, and when I told him he barely seemed to care. But..." Now she sounds determined. "... I do."

And Dominic, upon getting Abbas's new burner phone number (as a replacement Conduit), agrees.

-------

The Whole Murder Thing

Lanie will coordinate Nathan meeting with Abbas to deliver the ring and possibly monster hunt with him, so long as he understands that the odds are high that Abbas is a suspect of interest and quite possibly wanted by the FBI.

"He's wha--oh, right the whole murder thing."

"Ideally, monster hunting isn't happening in heavily populated areas ... otherwise we'd have heard about it on the news."

Rest

At first Lanie thought she had caught Ghoul Fever, but the symptoms didn't match up. She was extremely tired yet couldn't seem to get a good night's rest, and every muscle ached constantly. In addition to powerful headaches, she struggled to maintain any level of concentration, cutting her off from nearly all of the Network members and allies and making relatively independent living via telekinesis impossible. Thankfully, Lanie could still communicate with Sierra privately using Dominic's pen with the speaker on her custom dog collar.

Sierra promptly took the Samoyed to the vet, carrying the 45 lb canine in her arms. After a variety of extremely invasive tests, the vet concluded the dog had the beginning of chronic fatigue syndrome and quite possibly depression.

"Has Lanie experienced great transition lately which might trigger an extreme stress response?"

Sierra, who didn't know her employer's whole story, looks down at the dog laying on the examination table. The exhausted dog glances back at her. "... Yes."

Medication was prescribed, but it didn't make much of a difference. The truth was that the past eight months had been a lot for Lanie, and now, finally, the human-turned-dog didn't have a single person that she had to be strong for, not a single thing was threatening her physically or otherwise, and there was nothing urgent remaining on the to-do list. Finally becoming still for a moment, the adrenaline ran dry, the mountain of exhaustion that had been piling up toppled over, and the backlog of feelings unleashed. This was more than a physical ailment. Mentally and emotionally, the dog was just over it all—the Contracts, the interpersonal drama, the side missions. She could have tried to connect with one of the more public allies, Terry Bucksworth perhaps. Bu Fang even offered to cook her up a cure, but it was ineffective. Frankly, for the first time since all of this adventuring began, the dogtor didn't mind the failed attempt because she sincerely wanted to rest. And so she did.

Few heard directly from Lanie for the next four months, nor could anyone call her (she had run through burner phones rather rapidly lately). Keara and Mel got updates from Sierra, easy enough to do given that they lived in the same neighborhood. After the first month, the two women started coming over on the pretense that they had befriended Sierra but to actually hang out with (and pet) the dogtor. Dominic also knew Lanie was via the GPS tracker on her collar which showed that she barely left her house during this time. Occasionally there is another visitor, a young man delivering delicious Chinese food seemingly to Sierra. Each time, he only stays in the house for a few minutes before heading off.

Just a nondescript woman in her thirties who walks two bloodhounds and a pomski for a mile twice a day and works from home in a quiet suburb in Salem, Indiana.

-------

A Long While

One long, restless, dream-filled night, Lanie remembers little Wang and the rest of the orphans from a past job. A few days later, when the young man comes by for his monthly visit, she asks him about doing a charitable trip to China, with him acting as the pet owner until she is on the mainland and can de-transform. Then, with his help translating, she can further heal the broken minds of several children (more than before given that now they don't need to talk). Although they don't pick a date for the trip, thought makes her excited--something she hasn't felt in a long while. This isn't urgent and these aren't her children. They could just as easily go on without her intervention, never knowing what didn't happen. But ... this is what the good dogtor had taken so many risks for.

Over the course of two weeks, her headaches and the heavy weight of depression lessened, her sleep quality improved, and her concentration returned. There were many people to catch up with. However, it was that hectic pace that got her into her weakened, depressed state; this time Lanie took it slow. A flight was booked. The trip happened. Children were instructed to close their eyes while talking about whatever they wanted to talk about with Lanie for several hours, with many breaks. Games to develop motor skills were made to pass the time as Lanie discreetly, slowly healed their minds. They miraculously recovered, although not fully. Some things were too deeply ingrained for her to budge. After spending eight days there, the young man and the dog returned to the states. And then she wondered what she might do with herself next.

And it was at that moment, as though the Powers that Be were keenly watching over her, that the dog received a book in the mail from an unknown sender, bookmarked by a note with seemingly straightforward instructions...

Not Done

A slim, unassuming teenager with messy hair and tired eyes, wearing worn, weathered clothes checks into a three-star hotel in London. By his side is a medium-sized white fluffy dog--a dog who just a moment before they entered the building hacked up a wad of several thousands USD to help the poor teenager cover the lodging expenses. On Bryan's other side is a small travel bag, one with a sticking wheel and a broken zipper that probably should have been replaced years ago. As the teenager talks with the receptionist and gets his hotel room key cards, the dog sniffs the air. The countless travelers are laden with interesting smells once you get past the perfume and cologne.

Lanie suggested that David, Dreamer, and Bryan all stay at a nearby hotel for a night because it was getting late and it had been a long day. In addition, it would be a little reprieve for the dog (a break between two 8-hour flights in the unpressurized cargo area under the plane). Flying internationally as a medium-sized dog was not at all comfortable. Dreamer and Bryan agreed, although the woman stopped for dinner first.

Soon the two make their way to their room on the third floor. It's nothing fancy for Lanie, but she didn't need fancy. Just a place to rest and maybe a quiet moment (where they aren't on the job and about to die) get to know this young man who oh so opportunistically got his book signed first and who was willing to escort her all the way home to Indiana before going home himself.

The dog jumps up onto a white bed, thankful that the average hotel sheets are white, meaning her constant shedding won't be so noticeable. And then she lays down facing towards Bryan. 

When she realizes that Bryan is the crafty, artistic type, Lanie asks if he knows anyone who might be able to modify a suit of sort-of-leather armor (the Tigrex armor that Abbas had so handily prepared for Lanie when she was a woman). In response, Bryan offers to do it himself. As he takes down her measurements, Lanie asks if he can make other clothing or her. It's not that she felt naked with a constant fur coat on, but other outfits could provide some social or even strategic advantages on the jobs they were tasked with. After much conversing (and after learning about Bryan's ability to fabricate items and materials from nothing), the two settle on the following wardrobe for the dogtor:

• White dogtor lab coat x5
• Black leather biker gang-style jacket with "Hell Hounds" logo x5
• Hazmat suit
• Firefighter suit
• Urban camo outfit
• Forest camo outfit
• Dog dive suit with tank
• Altered Tigrex armor

Despite the long list, Bryan refuses Lanie's offer to pay him as soon as she has the money. After that, Lanie spends about an hour chatting with Dreamer while Bryan picks up some dinner for them both.

The young man and the dog wake up early the following day to get ready for the long trip home. Although they part ways, their business is not done. Rather, it's agreed that Lanie will mail Bryan the armor and then he will personally deliver that and the other outfits later (with Lanie covering the travel expenses), ensuring a future hangout.

-------

On One End

In the privacy of a three-star hotel room in London, Lanie recommends that Dreamer gets a service dog that is trained to help people with narcolepsy.

“Yeah, but there’s also the fact that if I had a regular service dog back there, it probably would have been eaten.”

"... I can help you get a less than regular service dog. But not for free--my friend charges, not me."

"What might you be able to trade for a service dog in terms of goods or services?"

“I can offer my services as a novice thief, or as long distance recon on any given person provided I have an object or location tied to their sleep. Additionally I have clothes that remove your need for food, and ones that allow full mobility while moving through tight spaces and around fields of vision.”

"Let me pass that along."

The dog 'hangs up' her call with Dreamer and then begins panting again as she stares off into space… After a long pause, the dog 'calls' Dreamer back. "They want the mobility clothing. Would you like the dog to be delivered to me and then I pass it off to you as an intermediary or delivered to you directly?"

“Is there any way we can discuss this in more detail together? As useful as a dog like this would be, the mobility clothing is still… How do I describe it? It’s something out of something, unlike the things I can do that are something out of practically nothing, that I could do once a day every day without being too bothered by it.”

Lanie's head cocks to one side as she listens. Her voice answers (from the speaker of Dreamer's phone), "Are you saying you have to be present for the clothing to work or that the clothing itself has a limitation? Sadly, I cannot do three-way telepathic calls." This is the first time she's explained that it's telepathy, but they haven't known each other long and, frankly, how else could the dog 'call people' without using a phone? "However, I can see if he's willing to call you directly if both of you don't require an intermediary to ensure your anonymity." 

“I’m saying the limitation is making the clothing. It’s hard to do, and they’re powerful pieces. But a direct line would be helpful.” 

Lanie goes from sitting to lying on the bed. "Understood. I was already prepared to bargain for additional benefits being bestowed on the service dog given the item you're offering in trade for them--perhaps a stronger bite should the dog need to defend you while you sleep and the ability to be more alert to dangers around you. But if you think your item is worth more, I can either connect you both directly or pass the information along. To explain, all of my 'calls' are supernaturally obscured, leaving no trace of the conversation. This has its advantages--but not advantages that everyone requires. Some value their privacy more than others… Let me see if my friend is willing to speak to you." The call with Dreamer ends. The dog briefly stops panting and then starts panting once more. It is now very clear that panting is her 'tell'. 

The dog is quiet for a bit, presumably chatting with this unknown someone. Meanwhile, Dreamer will be sitting there, quiet and patient, her eyes not visible through the shadow cast by the cloak. She looks like she might be thinking on something, until Lanie hears the soft, quiet breaths that indicate someone that fell asleep.

The dog noses Dreamer's hand gently with a cool damp snoot. Then she gets another phone call as the dog begins to pant again.

She almost immediately jumps awake, almost falling off the bed in the process before scrambling to grab her phone and answer it. “Hullo?”

Lanie swiftly avoids being fallen onto. "Er, sorry--they wanted to retain their privacy, which is why the call was longer. They offered a service dog... or, I'm serious, a 'service monster' and also two types of supernatural foods. One they described as a 'hail mary meatball' that explodes--I am not kidding--and the other is 'a noodle ball' that will help you get through 'a downward spiral of trouble and struggle.' Also, the noodle ball apparently has a chance of being more useful, perhaps as leftovers?' She sounds confused but then becomes more confident. Her ears perk up and her tail thumps slowly. "I can assure you that they're trustworthy." 

“How intelligent or well trained are these service… monsters? I don’t think you would be a stranger to the rigorous training and qualifications this type of dog would need.”

"I'm honestly not familiar with the monster option--I was going to pull on one of my own contacts to secure a highly qualified service animal specifically trained to serve people with your condition. I will say, though, a 'monster' doesn't sound subtle compared to a service dog. My friend may very well mean that they have a creature on hand from one of these jobs or something..." 

“It doesn’t surprise me. You should swing by The Library some time and meet the coyote. But regardless… what would be the difference between one he worked on and a regular one?”

"Are you referring to a service dog or a 'service monster'? Either way, the creature he works with and provides will be very tough--durable, I mean-- highly perceptive, and probably have the ability to do some harm if need be. I know from experience that the dog will also be exceptionally loyal and obedient, following any commands given that they can understand." That may sound odd coming from a dog, but Lanie doesn't seem to notice. 

“Service dog I think. A service monster would really defeat the point of discretion, social leverage, and their actual medical benefits.”

The dog nods. "I think that's wise. I know they were half-joking when they offered a monster, but I also believe they could totally do it. Would you like the service dog and food to be delivered to me or to you directly, perhaps to your library?" 

She thinks on it for a moment. “I’m thinking one of each of those foods, along with the service dog, at this location.” She hands Lanie a gray library card. “Check out a book with that, then follow the given instructions. I will be there to inspect everything for the hand off. Also, if possible, I prefer to move quickly and quietly, so if the dog can as well that would be great.”

"That's reasonable, I'll ask them to consider doing that." The dog looks down at the card that Dreamer placed on the bed before her and then back at the sharply dressed woman. "I might have trouble checking out a book at a library, but I have a trustworthy handler who could do it for me. Would it still work?" 

“Indeed. That card is simply a key. Though fair warning, the place isn’t very accessible to someone with movement impairments, for the time being. I’m trying to figure that part out.”

"I'm not concerned, but thank you for letting me know." Lanie gently picks up the plastic card in her mouth ... and then proceeds to swallow it. gulp Her eyes are shut tight and her ears go down for a moment; a library card down the throat cannot be comfortable. 

The dog faces Dreamer again. "Before we complete this deal, I want to take a moment to convey that, as a dog myself, this service animal you're gaining is by no means disposable. Contracts are dangerous. Even with increased durability, stealth, speed, and alertness--should my friend agree to all of that--this is a living being that is being put into your care just as you are in their care when you fall asleep. This will be a partnership." 

“I understand completely. If you will recall, fear of an animal like this getting hurt in our line of work was the reason I was so hesitant in the first place. I love animals, and hate to see them hurt.”

This makes the panting dog very pleased. "As do I." The call ends again. A few minutes later, the deal is made. At this point, for ease of communication, the dog jumps to the ground and then full-body coughs and hacks up a small metal pen covered in saliva. Dreamer, if she is awake, sees the dog do a shake before picking up the pen in her mouth.

"He has agreed." Now the woman's voice comes from her collar. The pen sticks out both sides of her lips. "It will take me and my contact a bit to identify a suitable dog, so don't expect Amazon Prime delivery times. And then we'll need to see how you two get along and do some additional training together. Otherwise..." her tail wags "I'm glad I could help." thump thump thump 

"Oh--what is your financial situation like? I can cover up to $15,000 of the expenses to acquire a dog trained for narcolepsy on short notice, but it could be a bit more than that..." 

“I can spare just about that without digging into anything too vital on my end.”

The dog nods. "That should cover it then."

And then Dreamer shares that the article of clothing can be anything so long as it is made of cloth. After another unusually long 'call' the dog says (through the speaker on her collar), "They'd like chef's pants--water or stain proof preferably." Then she provides the pant size in men's.

“So um. Pants would be an issue, though he can totally do it if he doesn’t mind the consequences of looking… rather ridiculous.” She says after a few moments hesitation.

Again, the dog is visibly confused with the head tilt. "What do you mean?"

“Well the use of the power is marked by an extreme just of wind rippling through the item for about 20 seconds. Which works well with things like cloaks, the tails of a headband, etc. However, if I made them pants, then it will look like exclusively his pants will be moved by a strong 20 second backwards wind…” she is very obviously holding back a laugh.

Can dogs laugh? The voice from the collar certainly does and, at the same time, the dog seems to crack a big smile. Once she composes herself she says, "In that case, pants would be amazing!" and chuckles a bit more before adding, "he'd probably hate it though--cloak, headband... any other recommendations I should pass on?"

“For a chef, I would recommend a headband, ascot, chef jacket, if he doesn’t mind a couple buttons coming undone, or if he wants to add something new to his style, arm wraps could be interesting. Or he can stick with the pants.”

The dog itches under her collar with her back foot while she listens to the options, really leaning into it, and then nods. "Alright, let's see what he picks." She closes her eyes and starts panting again. Saliva drips from her mouth, as she is still holding the metal pen.

A long moment later. "A chef jacket."

--------

On the Other End

A telepathic ‘call’ from Lanie to Bu Fang: "I found a Contractor who would benefit from a service animal to aid her with managing a mental health condition I cannot cure. It would have to be able to travel with her on Contracts, however, and so that means they are altered to be tougher and more durable than average. I can help identify a trained service animal for her, but I can't handle the durable part. In exchange for your help, she's offering her services as a novice thief or long-distance spy on any given person--so long as she has an object or location that is 'tied to their sleep.'" A pause. "She also offers clothing that removes your need for food and, separately, clothing that allow full mobility while moving through tight spaces and around fields of vision. Do any of her goods or services sound interesting to you?" 

"Ooh... I'm interested in that second option. A piece of clothing huh? Indeed. I'll be able to ensure the service animal is rather durable, as they desire." 

"The food-related clothing or the mobility-related clothing?"

"Mobility."

"Okay, I'll coordinate the trade. Let me pull some strings and get a service animal delivered to you in a few days--at most a week. Once you've done what you need to do, you can send one of your staff to deliver it to either me or her--let me see which she prefers..."

After a minute or so, Bu gets another 'call'. "She just explained that her clothing is quite powerful and she'd like to bargain for a bit more than what we originally talked about. Would you like to call her directly or have me act as the intermediary to maintain your privacy?" 

"Alright. Is there anything else besides a more durable and capable service dog that you have in mind to trade for her article of clothing?"

“Service monster?” Bu says with a chuckle.

"... I don't believe she's Illuminated yet. That doesn't sound discreet."

"Bah, fineeeee," Bu Fang has a joking tone. "Anyways, more than durable and capable, I can also trade in a hail mary meatball that explodes if they get into major trouble."

"Let me pass that on." Lanie's tone now has a smile as well.

"Or a noodle ball that’ll let them tide through a troublesome spiral of struggle," the chef adds.

"Both can only be used once because the food is eaten, correct?" The thought of Bu’s food makes her salivate even more than before.

"The second, if it resonates with the person, can be used again."

Resonates with the person? "I see.” She didn’t but that’s not going to hold up the deal-making. “If a service dog and one type of food is not enough, would you trade both foods for an article of clothing that grants mobility in tight spaces--and does not expire? This isn't an attempt to pressure you. I just want an idea of how much you're willing to trade for it to move the conversation forward.” A pause. “I have nothing to gain from the exchange."

"Of course!"

"Alright. Standby." The call ends.

A bit later, But is asked what kind of clothing he wants, and he answers, “Cooks formal pants, preferably waterproof or stain proof.”

"Not to get invasive here, but what is your pant size?"

Bu Fang gives his pants size a little... perturbed. Why? is written on his face.

Lanie doesn’t see his expression, but she catches it in his tone. "If you want it to fit, it needs to be tailored to you."

"Fair enough."

"I learned men have specific pant dimensions nine months ago. Women just try things on and guess--the size numbers are meaningless… not that that's relevant to me anymore."

After a few minutes, Bu gets yet another call: "Apparently when using the clothing for its supernatural properties a massive gust of wind will impact the article of clothing--and only that article of clothing. That being said, pants whipping around at 20 miles per hour might look odd. Would you like a headband, ascot, arm wraps, or a chef jacket instead?"

"A chef jacket is fine then."

"Alright. You can deliver the dog and the food to my house, and I'll deliver it all to my contact. And then I'll call you when I have your jacket so you can send someone to pick it up." A pause. "Actually, perhaps you can be the one to stop by?" They had a bit more business to discuss, certainly, but that could be done 'over the phone'. In reality, Lanie had become accustomed to Bu's monthly visits. While the pomski wasn't 'due' yet, the dogtor enjoyed the chef's company (and cooking). 

"Absolutely. Want anything on the way?" 

The dog licks her chops but then is unsure of the meaning of the offer. "Uh, no, that's fine. We have some other business to discuss, but I'd enjoy that over a meal at home. Sierra can make drinks again too."

The plan is set.

Better Now

After a potentially concerningly long amount of time (several months for Lanie), Minerva finally gets a phone call from the dog. (Lanie is now on the way home from Europe, in a uncomfortable crate in the cargo area of a plane and surrounded by luggage.)

At 6 PM... Minerva was playing outside with some of the other kids.  Playing tag with powers was kind of fun. One of her fluffy ears perks some as she hears her phone vibrating, and she grabs at it for a moment to make sure it was hers.  She teleports up, sitting on a tree branch out of reach, takes a moment to stick her tongue out at the girl who'd been chasing her, and pulls the phone out.  Her eyes widen as she saw the caller ID. "Lanie!  I was worried. Are you okay?"

"Minerva, I'm so glad you picked up!" Lanie sounds relieved. "Yes, I'm okay--well, I wasn't for a few months, but I am now. It's a long story. I don't think I've told you much about my story yet but, like, basically... I needed to rest for a long time, and I just kept going, and then I sort of had no choice." 

Minerva leans against the tree, curling her tail around the branch for stability.  "I'm glad you're okay!  And you weren't?  Hmph. Why didn't you ask for help?"  She nods a bit.  "Okay... well, are you better rested now?"

"Now, yes, but before I couldn't think clearly at all--couldn't concentrate for months, and I don't have your phone number anymore--" that burn phone had gotten, well, burned and Lanie figured she didn't need the contact list at the time. "I'm so sorry we lost contact." In fact, Lanie had lost contact with almost everyone. 

"Yeah... I tried to call you a few times and it never connected, and I couldn't find out how to find you."  There's a pause.  "It's okay.  It sounds like you needed a break.  I'm glad you're feeling better now, though...  I broke into the FBI for you and got that gun, too!"

She sounds both excited and nervous now: "You did? H-how did it go?" If anyone could do the job perfectly it was Minerva but there were still risks--and so she had mixed feelings about it ever since she mentioned the task. 

"It went okay!  I asked Dominic to help track it down, and he said it was in the main FBI office… and then I made like... a duplicate of it, and then I walked in and checked it out and swapped it and checked it back in and then left and it went okay!  I don't think anyone knew the difference. I tried shooting it!  It made my wrist hurt some… And my shoulder..." And her tail from falling down the first time she shot it, but that was too much damage to her pride. "I'm sorry."  She says after a little bit, realizing maybe it was rude to do that.  "I don't know if it was rude to try shooting it!"

The dog chuckles at the report. "Well done! No, that's fine, aside from you hurting yourself. It's supposed to be used with a tripod, not freeform." A pause as she does some mental calculating. "How about if I come by and pick it up?" Better that than it getting lost in the mail, and Lanie had some other business in mind at Faraday, if the principal would agree to it. But either way she’d do her best to visit Minerva; a visit was long overdue. 

Minerva nod nods. "Yay!" She beams a little bit as she'd praised.  "Ohhh. Okay."  She nods. "Okay!"

"I'll try to be there tomorrow--oh, how are Mars and Loki?" 

"Okay! Mars is good.  Annoying, sometimes.  But good!  And Loki is good!"  She did play with them some and give them some attention, but all the other kids did too, and one of the school's staff had taken over feeding them and such. 

"Glad to hear it. I'll contact Principal Wolstenholme and make sure my visit is approved. See you soon!" Lanie's tail wags as she talks before hanging up. 

The subsequent call with the principal goes well. Lanie promptly calls Minerva back and explains that she'll be there in a week, not the next day, because she has set something up with the principal.

Minerva is happy when Lanie calls, before tilting her head to the side.  "A week? Something set up?" She wiggles her nose some, looking confused.  "Okay!"  She nods a little.

-------

In the Meantime

After arriving home and resting from the jetlag, Lanie proceeded with her plan. She met up with the emergency medic she helped during the Michigan wildfire. In his apartment, she performed her first therapy session on camera on him and his close friend. That friend referred her to a fitness influencer. Once the fitness influencer got healed, she referred the dogtor to a videogame influencer. And yet another referral led Lanie to help a former mobster and kleptomaniac. Each session took eight hours in a single day, and so from morning to late morning dog and mobster walked around Chicago with halos on their heads. Occasionally the dog talked using the Illuminati pen and the speaker on her collar. This scene drew some attention, including the attention of a police officer concerned that the two are a public nuisance. With a little persuading, Lanie got the police officer to agree that the supernatural therapy session should be done in the safety and privacy of an office in the local police station. The healed mobster leaves at the end of the day, and then the chief of police met with the dog. She had, reasonably, many questions. Unfortunately, because the dogtor's abilities were not scientifically confirmed, such experimental practices would not be permitted to be performed on the police force. The two part ways (Lanie being picked up and driven home by Sierra).

With five video testimonies on the effectiveness of her therapeutic ability--only one of them being anonymous--the Samoyed re-contacted the medic. She sent him the testimonies and asked if he could get her in touch with any scientist or medical practitioner who might be interested in proving that her skills in fact work. (Ideas included brain scans before, during, and after being treated to observe physiological changes; pre- and post-treatment psychological evaluations; and treating those in comas--perhaps Lanie could wake them up.) He agreed to seek out some leads.

Then the dogtor compiles, prepares, and sends her video-recorded pitch (complete with testimonies) for her upcoming task at Faraday.

She also has a frank chat (no more frank than usual though) with Sierra about the upcoming changes to Lanie's life, the ones that these testimonies and her pitch are building towards. Sierra had initially agreed to be a bodyguard for a human. She then agreed to be a bodyguard for a sapient dog. But soon that sapient dog would be a known golden goose, making the situation much more than what Sierra signed up for. Lanie impresses on the woman that both the dog and the bodyguard could be at risk of kidnapping once Lanie's powers to heal the mind are publicly known. Given that, she presents Sierra with three options all which she would fully support (letting Sierra keep the house reguardless): (1) pretend to be Lanie's owner and continue bodyguarding secretly, (2) openly be Lanie's bodyguard, or (3) back out now before Sierra becomes publicly associated with Lanie, making Sierra a kidnapping target. Sierra asks for some time to think it over. A few days later, she asks if there is a way that she can supernaturally disguise her appearance while outside of the house. The dog isn't sure but promises to ask around.

-------

In the Fullest Sense

"My name is Lanie, and I'm a trained therapy dog in the fullest sense. I am non-supernaturally trained in a variety of therapeutic practices based on psychology, although as a dog I don't hold a diploma nor license. More importantly, I have discovered and developed an innate supernatural ability to heal the mind of most mental and emotional challenges--nightmares, phobias, compulsive behaviors, and the like."

"Sometimes specific events can cause lasting stress on the mind, like the death of a close friend, relative, or pet; a car accident; a dog bit; or witnessing a natural disaster. Sometimes stress on the mind can happen more slowly over time, like someone being secretly bullied at school and not telling anyone. Our society also puts a lot of pressure on young people to fit in a certain box, look a certain way, act a certain way--and if they don't then something is wrong with them. This too can lead to false and even toxic notions that slowly develop into mental and emotional challenges as young people figure out who they are and their place in the world."

"After completing a five-minute, wordless consultation, I can determine if there is anything that your child is carrying--a weight on their thoughts and emotions--that is burdening them that I can work to remove. After that, we'll schedule a therapy session which is quite simple; I need to be with the patient for a full day--8 hours--as the mere presence of a comforting animal has healing impacts on the psyche which are enhanced by my own supernatural abilities. My patients do not need to do anything on their end, and there are no side effects aside from the mental and emotional realignment. During a session, a glowing intangible halo will appear around the patient and around my head as I focus my energies on them. While they're being healed, they can focus on their studies or do something relaxing. Parents are welcome to join them as well as friends if desired."

"One full session focuses on a single aspect of the mind. Occasionally it takes two sessions to address a single aspect, in which case I'll provide my services free of charge due to taking up more of the patient's time than I had originally planned."

"I can also heal multiple people at one time, but this results in others knowing what they and their peers just recovered from. Due to the lack of privacy, I'm offering group therapy services at no cost."

"I have performed this therapy many times for friends and family. I've gotten better at it over time, allowing me to work with many people at once at further distances. However, only recently have I helped out people I didn't know--several who have kindly provided their video testimonies of my effectiveness." (There are 5 video testimonies and only 1 is anonymous. Lanie makes them available.)

"As payment for reducing what might take months or even years of therapy sessions with variable success down into a single day with a 100% success rate (without requiring any effort on the part of the patient), I am charging 1% of the parent or guardian's annual household income per successful one-on-one therapy session. Payments can be made to Sierra Tomason, my handler."

-------

A Walk

Two days after Minerva and Lanie spoke, there are whispers among the students about their parents getting an announcement: a supernatural therapy dog will be visiting the school for a week and providing rapid, effective mental health services. Parents (and their kids) could could opt their kids into the free group therapy sessions or pay for one-on-one sessions. Word got around because that's just what happens in a small private school and also the parents were encouraged to talk to their kids about participating. A few days after that, flyers are up on the school bulletin boards and the door of the counseling office. It shows a silhouette of a generic dog (as though that's the professional headshot), the title and name of ("Dogtor Lanie"), and the details of the group therapy sessions. Students may participate 1.5 hours per day in the early afternoon, before dinner. Oddly, "participating" means going into one of the larger classrooms and just studying, reading, or drawing--doing something individualized and quiet--for six days straight (five school days and one late Saturday morning). The only side effect is that the students will know what both themselves and everyone else in the room were cured of. Students can sign up in the counselor's office.

Faraday is a place for the supernatural to belong, yet this still makes a splash. Perhaps it's the fact that the mental health practitioner is a literal dog. Perhaps it's the gossip that will result from students knowing what had ailed each other (or that they even had an mental/emotional health issue). There are also some trends. Those who signed up for the group sessions are generally poorer, attending the school on scholarships. Meanwhile, the richer are divided: some claim to have no need of the the services (but a few confide that they're signed up for private sessions), others claim (dramatically) to have vast needs and so their parents have paid for multiple private sessions, and still others complain that they have no mental health issues but really want to attend the group session (because they always knew that so-n-so was a little off and so they might sign up anyways just to not miss out the big reveal).

Minerva seems a little surprised at those rumors!  A supernatural therapy dog, who had heard of such of a thing...  She listens to the rumours and is a little non-committal.  She doesn't quite know the social effects of stating she knows the supernatural mental healthcare provider well...   Although she does recommend it to anyone who asks.  Minerva signs up for the group therapy sessions not at all for the latter reason at all, not at alllll

The ride to Faraday was calm. This was one of the clearer New England days, especially in the Fall turning to winter. There was a chill in the air that required most without fur to bundle up in their moderate-cold clothing. Trekking through the shallow hills of New England, up along the coast north of Salem, a driver would take a turn off of the highway and onto country roads, eventually leading to a series of raised islands in flat marshlands. 

The property of Faraday itself was on one of these raised islands, the largest and closest to the coast of the group, and required a driver to take a long, scenic path around the school grounds. Spiraling up the gentle hill, Lanie would find herself in front the large, gravel courtyard of a beautiful manor, itself alive with activity on the inside. It was always an event when an outsider came (though teachers always called attention back to studies and assignments through the din of their excitement), and this one in particular was even more special than most any others. The Dogtor would be greeted from afar by the tall, stoic Principal Wolstenholme, who stands waiting at the front door of the school.

During the ride, the window was cracked (upon Lanie's request) and the heater was on (for the sake of her handler), allowing her to indulge in the smells of ocean and marshland. Once the newer grey Honda Civic is parked, a confident woman in her mid-thirties with a messy bun and no makeup gets out of the driver's side. She's wearing a warm bulky jacket, jeans, hiking boots, and no accessories. She nods briefly to the principal before opening the back door like a chauffeur, allowing a white Samoyed wearing a plain black collar (which is mostly buried by fluff) to hop out. Poking out of the dog's mouth is the end of a metal pen. 

The woman grabs a backpack out of the trunk as the dog introduces herself, her voice coming from a small speaker on her collar. And then she introduces her bodyguard, Sierra Tomason, who nods again before scanning the environment. Once the school's rules for conceal carrying are clarified (possibly resulting in Sierra leaving her firearm in a safe in the trunk), the three stroll in--principal and dog openly discussing the final details of the group and individual therapy sessions as well as the overall reception of the parents and students to the opportunity Lanie offered. Sierra does not "walk" the dogtor, who has a collar but no leash. There is no need for pretense in a place like Faraday. They head to the dorms.

There are a number of students who conveniently needed hall passes to go to the bathroom oggling the three as they begin to make their way into the schoolhouse. A little girl with dotted, chameleon-like skin stares at the talking dog as she walks across a hallway heading in the opposite direction. A young boy with dry, craggy skin pokes his head out of the bathroom and quickly retreats (before then cracking the door open once more to peer at the group). All shapes and sizes (and even a few teachers and paranormalprofessionals) take note of your presence here as you head to the adolescent dormitory wing.

Wolstenholme explains that classes would be getting out shortly, and that Lanie would likely be bombarded with deeply personal, but still innocent, questions from any child that saw her if they didn’t make haste to their destination. 

One thing is for certain, this place is large. Adolescents (generally ages 6 to 13) stay in their own wing in the primary schoolhouse, while the younger students (1-6) have their own care center about half way down the hill. You will have a meeting space in the primary school house cleared out for your services starting tomorrow. For now, you’d make your way up a flight of stairs and toward one of the numbered rooms. Wolstenholme will knock on the door, and call out to Minerva and her roommates, Karigan and Maria.

Minerva has Karigan and Maria as roommates! Karigan looks sorta alien, having weird proportions, pale-but-sunburnt skin, and weird bone structure.  Super energetic. Maria has chromatic skin that changes with emotions, and a long, thin tail she's embarrassed of.  About twelve.  Very shy. Minerva had watched the arrival out the window, her tail lashing about a little.  She'd missed talking to Lanie!  She looks at the door, and watches the approach of the three via electroreception. The young foxgirl looks over at Maria as she waits.  "You'll really like Lannie.  She's really nice."  She smiles at the knock to the door, and literally blinks over to it, opening the door.  "Hello!  Hi, Lanie!"  She kneels down.  "Pets?  And hello, Principal Wolstenholme!"

Lanie is not quite used to all this attention, but she's certainly trying to be. That past week, while Faraday prepared to receive her, the dogtor performed several free private therapy sessions (and one not so private one). She is slowly collecting video testimonies to have some respectable package, some presentation of her skills as a starting point for partnering with organizations like the boarding school for the supernatural--each a small part of a bigger plan. Relatedly, there is a chance that just a few days ago the preteens and teens on this campus had seen a white dog just like her on Twitter and Snapchat. The dog was casually walking down a neighborhood street in Chicago beside a gruff middle-aged man, both of them with shifting ethereal halos. There are even a few videos of her talking through her collar to a police officer (who approached them with concerns of disorderly conduct). This likely fueled the anticipation of her arrival even more.

The dog enjoys the walk of the grounds. Taking it all in, a small part of her aching from the thought that Violet might have attended here if things had gone down differently. But that was the past, and this is now. The girl was protected and being cared for even if it wasn't the kind of protection and care that Lanie would have chosen, and that was what mattered most.

Smelling Minerva from down the hall, her tail wags swiftly as they approach the closed door. "Minerva--pets, yes!" the dog holding the pen in her mouth affirms. In fact, Minerva was the first person Lanie had let pet her (when they met in person for the first time at the Minneapolis airport before pursuing Mars with Dominic). For Lanie, that marked a special moment between them and also for her personally as she walked (on all fours) further down the path to true doghood.

Minerva smiles as Lanie confirms pets.  She bends over a little, beginning to ruffle the dog's head, her tail lashing about a little.  "How was your trip here?" It had been a bit of a week for Minerva, but she was doing pretty good right now.  She had had waffles this morning.

"It was nice--lots of smells, and this is a beautiful space." Lanie's own tail thump thump thumps even faster now, although she manages to not lose herself in the wonderful pets. It was always nice when someone came down to her level; she didn't realize just how much looking up she'd be doing as a dog. With the two roommates peering over at her behind Minerva and the principal beside her, Lanie then wonders how the two might be able to have an honest conversation and more fully catch up. To have a confidential call here and now might be suspicious or at the very least awkward. Perhaps coming in person would be more business than pleasure--or perhaps they could find a quiet moment together at some point later in the week.

Minerva smiles, and keeps petting.  Good, vigorous pets. "Yeah, it is... it's a really nice space.  Sorta like home, just... there's a lot more people here.  But I like it."  The young foxgirl shifts a bit and gets onto a knee, so she's now at Lanie's height proper. It may be that no one except those covered in fur from head to toe really understand how good it feels to be scratched and how to scratch the best. The dogtor really leans into it, clearly enjoying herself.

Both of Minerva's roommates are certainly peering.  Maria looks embarrassed about having someone else in their room, and Karigan looks like it's literally killing her not being part of the conversation... but knows enough to know it's not hers.  She does wave and say "Hi!" though.

"Hello!" Lanie answers cheerily to Karigan, mid-pets.

"Oh," the dog glances back at the casually dressed, fit woman wearing a backpack. Sierra is looking down the hall (calculating the distance from the nearest exits and points of more creative exit/entry) when Lanie says, "This is my friend, handler, and bodyguard, Sierra. Sierra, this is Minerva."

Sierra crouches down, well accustomed to the motion, and offers a hand while looking the young foxgirl in the eyes. She seems self-assured and respectful as she says simply, "Pleasure." 

The young foxgirl certainly seemed to know how to give scritches.  It wasn't really the same to give them to yourself, but she got them sometimes!  She keeps doing it as they talk until she has to shake a paw.  Minerva looks up at Sierra as they're introduced, and smiles.  Her paw is small and soft.  "Hello! I'm sure you're very nice." 

Sierra shakes Minerva's paw. It's far from the first time she's shaken a paw, but it is definitively the first time she's shaken the paw of a anthropomorphic fox. Her grip is firm and she has a decent professional mask, but under that is bewilderment and excitement. Almost five months ago she had agreed to provide personal protection services to a woman named Lanie, and now she was watching over a sapient therapy dog at a school for supernaturally gifted children. "I'd like to think so," she answers, trying to stay totally calm and casual.

Meanwhile, Karigan waves energetically.  "How're you?  Are you really a dog?  Were you always a dog?  Are you magic?  Can you walk on two legs sometimes like Minerva?  Does Minerva sometimes walk on all fours?  Can-” Maria pokes her in the side, and she stops... for the moment.

Minerva sticks her tongue out at the other girl before looking back at Sierra.  She nodnods!

"Mmm, you absolutely are," the dog affirms her bodyguard, ignoring the inundation of questions.

After going back to pets for a bit, Minerva pauses.  "You wanna go for a walk? The woods are really nice!"  She looks up at the Principal.  "I'll keep her safe!"  She smiles, and then giggles a bit.

The Principal agrees with Minerva's suggestion. Soon she walks off with Sierra who, with a nod from Lanie, is dismissed but not off-duty. The bodyguard is interested in seeing the group and individual meeting spaces in the primary schoolhouse and has some questions about the school's security personnel and systems...

Adult dog and young foxgirl walk across the manicured grounds heading towards the surrounding woods. Students who happen to be outside at the time stare (discreetly and openly) and whisper to their peers, which catches Lanie's eye but then she tries to ignore it. As they get to the treeline, the dog slants her head upwards and proceeds to swallow the pen (eyes shut tight) with a gulp.

After a little bit they're walking along the grounds towards the woods, the young foxgirl just skipping a little bit.  She waves to the other kids as they go... and then blinks a few times as Lanie swallows the pen.  “...Does that hurt?"

Instead of answering audibly, Minerva gets a phone call from Lanie as the dog looks back at her, ears alert, and panting. "I wouldn't say it's comfortable, but it doesn't hurt, no. Probably shouldn't swallow something spikey though... or poisonous." The throat as a passageway to her concealed storage was certainly a limitation, but she'd seen dogs swallow all sorts of things throughout her life. She made it work.

Minerva tilts her head to the side a little bit as she gets the phone call.  She answers it and then looks over at Lanie.  "Is something wrong?"  She asks, before listening. She nods a little bit.  "...Ah.  Uh... well, I can hold onto it next time, if you want..."  She imagines the logistics of herself swallowing a pen.

"That's alright. I've been figuring out how to be independent on all fours, don't you worry." The white fluffy dog moves closer and leans against Minerva for a moment--a comforting kind of lean--before fixating on a little grey squirrel that darts up a nearby tree for a moment.

The small foxgirl nodnods.  "Okay!  ...Is it a lot harder?  It feels harder..."  She smiles as the dog presses against her, bending over some and hugging close.  She giggles quietly at the squirrel.  

Lanie returns her attention to Minerva. "It's not the easiest but, like, I chose this." A pause. "And I would choose it again."

Minerva nods, and considers.  "That's fair, and I understand."  It wasn't necessarily easy what she'd chosen either... but at least she'd chosen a form with opposable thumbs.  She could understand knowing something was right and choosing it regardless of how difficult it was.

"Let’s not lose touch again. We'll get you Sierra's phone number when we see her, and you can take down my new address on your phone now if you'd like..."

She nodnods. "Okay! That sounds good..."  She pulls a phone out of a concealed pocket, and is ready to put the address in.

Then the small foxgirl and dog embrace, savoring the moment (with both tails in motion) before returning to the businesses at hand. The address that Lanie provides is in Salem, Indiana. "This is where Sierra, Tal, Charm, Umbra, and I live now."

Minerva nodnods, and writes down the address.  "Who're Tal, Charm, and... Umbra?  That's the girl with Luci, right?"

"No, the Umbra clone," Lanie clarifies, although she makes a mental note that Minerva seems to know the original Contractor now. "The one Albert wanted to keep as prisoner who I offered a freer albeit supervised life as a dog to instead. Tal and Charm are what I ended up naming my bloodhounds." It took her a few days to settle on the names, but she was satisfied with it: 'Tal' for 'Talisman' which matched 'Charm' for the brother and sister.

Minerva nods a little. "Oh, right!  I remember now.  How's she doing?"  She smiles a bit at the comment of the bloodhounds, and nodnods.

"Mean-spirited and feisty but otherwise healthy," Lanie answers. "Kind of perfect that she got turned into a pomski..."

"Sounds familiar..."  Minerva says, remembering that Umbra.  She giggles a bit at the pomski comment.

After, Minerva looks around the woods a bit.  "...The forest is really nice..."

"Mhm," Lanie says in agreement with Minerva's comment while looking around and taking in the wonderful smells of earth, bark, plants, and the many animals that make the forest their home. A cluster of little brown birds flit from a thick bush in the distance to a tree, and another squirrel looks down from a high branch at the two as they walk further along the path and away from the school grounds. "Uh..." The dog's tail starts wagging rapidly as she turns to Minerva. Her eyes glimmer with excitement. "How fast are you?"

She looks around the forest full of life, and then tilts her head to the side.  "Uh, pretty--HEY!"  She says, as the dog takes off.  She starts to run as well, following the path, trying to keep up.  She certainly wasn't slow...

The 'call' ends as the dog bolts down the path, tail wagging. She glances back a few times to see if Minerva can keep up. When she sees the foxgirl is falling behind, the dog slows down a bit so that they can run side by side deeper into the forest. Aside from having some carefree fun, Lanie is testing how fast she can go now in a regular, non-dangerous setting (not climbing over obstacles like piles of bodies). And the answer: pretty damn fast. Being on a raised island, the path slopes downward towards the sea. It's not long before the two find themselves at the end of the trail which is the beginning of a quiet curved beach. Panting heavily now, the dog flops down onto the grassy sand and proceeds to roll in it. She's going to be a mess, but given the wagging tail and happy expression she clearly doesn't care. It's good to be with a friend, and it's good to be a dog.

She races after - and she's certainly not slow.  She's faster than most!  But she is still bound by two legs!  She moves faster than someone her size has any right to move, really.  She's enjoying just sprinting though the forest, giggling some.  Her tail lashes about.

As they run along, they start to head down the slope.  They can run even faster now!  With the risk of it turning into a tumble... but that's an acceptable risk, always.  Minerva's panting herself as she arrives.. and then giggles some as Lanie flops into the sand.  Minerva sits down into it, and flops back.  "That was fun!" She sits up after a minute, looking out over the water.

The dog scrambles up and then moves a bit away from the foxgirl before doing a full-body shake, sending loose sand flying. Then (still very sandy) she trots over and sits right beside Minerva, leaning again on her as she faces the water. A couple of large seagulls with white heads and brown-black patterned wings walk together along the edge of the waves, but the dog steels herself to not chase after them. They clearly capture her full attention though, just like with the squirrel. The panting stops, the gaze is intense, the ears are up, and the fur gets a bit bristly. 

The foxgirl glances over at the seagulls as they capture Lanie's attention - for a moment, her own hackles go up in response to Lanie's sudden attention.  But no, there were no threats here.  "Oh.   Let me give you this..."  She has to check a few pockets.  "Where did I leave that..."  Eventually, she pulls out a small keychain.  It has a tiny rifle hanging from it.

Seeing the item, Lanie excitedly licks Minerva's hand and then her cheek for a quick moment, overwhelmedly pleased. Then the tiny sniper rifle on the keychain and Lanie's eyes glow silver as she telekinetically moves it to be right in front of her. And she gobbles it up out of the air. gulp

The foxgirl giggles as Lanie starts to lick her paw like that... and then more as they lick her cheek.  She releases the keychain as it's picked up telekinetically, and then watches it just get eaten.    Nom.

"It's nice of you to offer to do the mental health stuff for the people here.  I know some who could certainly use it..."

To answer, Minerva gets another call from the dog who retakes a seat close beside her. She again begins to pant. "Things are changing for me, Minerva. I'm going to be Illuminated soon, intentionally." Her tail starts to thump in the sand but then stops. Her ears go back a bit as she looks out at the ocean. The cold salty breeze rustles their fur. "To be honest, it's going to make my life harder and more complicated... but I'm ready to do it--mass mental health healings. I can do it now, and so I will. I must."

Minerva takes a moment to answer her phone and put it on speaker, leaving it in her lap.  She nods a little bit.  "... Are you sure?"  she asks, first at the comment of her being intentionally illuminated.  She listens to the rest of it, and then nods again.  "Are you scared?"  She looks out over the water, that cold breeze.  It sounded scary.  But... Lanie could help a lot of people...

"Yeah, I am." She always strived to be honest and fully transparent with Minerva. "I'm afraid of being kid--uh, dognapped. Although Sierra is trained and experienced in personal protection services, she's more of an owner than a bodyguard--she probably can't take on a group, especially not a highly armed or supernatural group." Lanie is so small, so portable. She sighs. "Once I go public, it's only a matter of time before someone will come after me, so I'm doing everything I can to build buffer against that." A pause. "It's the unavoidable cost of doing the most good."

The child nods a little bit, curling her tail around herself.   She wiggles her nose as the thinks.  "Is there... some way I can help?  I'll come find you if someone does dognap you..."

The still sandy dog gently sets a paw on Minerva's leg and looks at her, eye to eye. "I'm sure you can. I hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, I will be reaching out to you and Albert, who tracks my location via this collar he made for me." She lays down with her head resting on Minerva's legs, tail wagging slowly. "Thanks, friend."

Minerva looks into Lanie's eyes, and nods a bit.  "I hope it doesn't either, and... okay." She looks at the collar, wiggling her nose.  "...What if they take your collar off?  I guess I can still try to track you down.  I've tracked people down with less..."  She smiles a bit as Lanie rests their head there, and she starts to pet Lanie's head again.  "You're welcome."

"I suppose I could straight up swallow a GPS tracker..." Come to think of it, Lilith also had a tracker of sorts on her. She had forgotten about it until that moment--it had been so long since they last talked. So, two trackers: one mundane and one supernatural. Leon Vanderblight had also implied that he could find missing people easily, as well as Edgar (although Lanie didn't want to pull on Edgar now that he no longer owed her a favor). Still, in a dire moment there would be several options, and the thought is comforting.

Lanie goes still and quiet as Minerva pets her soft head. Her eyes are shut and she seems to be smiling, just enjoying the moment. If Minerva checks, the 'call' has ended.

"That might be a good idea..."  She nods a little, considering, and she just keeps petting absentmindedly.  After a little bit, she glances down at Lanie, and smiles. She just looks out over the water, and keeps petting.  This was... good.  She was tired all the time, but... by and large, her life was good. She was happy.

And so they did. Lanie rolls over at some point, laying all over Minerva's legs, requesting belly pets. The busy tenacious planner, the strategic and benevolent mental health practitioner, the woman who is finally who and what she wants to be is utterly lost in this moment--undignified and unguarded.

Minerva giggles again as Lanie rolls over like that, rubbing that belly that's exposed to her and just being in the moment.

Eventually, the young girl slows down.  "We probably should get back soon.  Thanks for coming to see me."

Lanie does not respond. Her eyes are still shut and she's still grinning.

Minerva smiles, and keeps petting for like another five minutes before stopping entirely.  "Okayyy... heading back now?  It was nice to go walking with you, though."

The dog scrambles up and looks back at her blankly--a wordless huh? She does another full-body shake and then moves towards the forest and the path. Minerva is called yet again (and the dog begins panting). "Sorry--lost track of time there--that was really nice, thanks... So, how have you been?"

The foxgirl sticks her tongue out a little as the dog looks at her with that blank look, going to stand, and dust some of the sand off of her dress and her overcoat. She answers the call and nodnods!  "I've been... I've been good, I think!"  She smiles, and starts to skip just a little.  "Tired.  Really tired.  I go on these things every two weeks, and..."  She wiggles her nose.  "But other than that!  School is going well, I have a bunch of friends here, I'm feeling better..."

The dog easily keeps pace with the skipping foxgirl, trotting along. "Every two weeks is a lot!" Lanie's invitations had been at a much slower pace even before her forced rest. "I saw something about you on the news a while ago--I was worried, but it seems you're all healed up now..."

Minerva nodnods. "Yeah, it is.  I... kinda want to take a break, but.. I dunno, they're always so important. If I turn them down, then.. things are going to go badly, right?"  She lets out a breath, still skipping. "But... I'm still thinking of taking a break for my birthday."

She blushes a bit, her face fur flushing red.  "...Yeah...  The bazaar thing, right?  That was... a thing."  She shakes her head.  "At least it was just a picture of me.  It's not like Faraday puts pictures of us on their website."  She smiles.. and absentmindedly rubs the side of her muzzle.  "We saved a lot of people there."

"You did well," Lanie affirms. "Do consider taking a short break as a reward to yourself ... and consider when you might be done with these jobs." There are plenty of little critters all around the forest; she can smell them and hear their heart beats. But she keeps her attention on Minerva, trying to encourage her health and wellness (without being bossy or adult-y). 

She smiles at the affirmation, and lets out a breath.  "In a little bit.  I can't quite yet, and..."  She slows down her pace some, looking over at Lanie.  "...I don't know when.  When I'm strong enough, I guess.  But also.. I don't know.  Like... last month, if I hadn't been there... would all of Chicago have blown up? Maybe..." She paid a little bit of attention to the critters around the focus, but she was mostly talking with Lanie.  She really did trust the dog, especially for those reasons.

"The beings who send us on these jobs... they will always find more people to send--probably not as skilled and competent as you, but don't, like, go for the sake of going." Lanie sounds concerned. "Who knows if the next job you'll be tasked with doing something good or something horrible, like, without you even knowing? Go to get stronger, sure, because that's for you ... but when will you be strong enough?" This is something that had been on the dog's mind lately as well, why she accepted the jobs and when she would stop. Jason had stopped, and she was happy for him. What about her? "You don't have to know the answer now, but I just wanted to make sure you were considering the question." 

Minerva nods slightly, wiggling her nose a bit.  "...Will they?" She asks.  Maybe?  Perhaps it was... egotistical to imagine she was super special.  Was she going for the sake of going? ... Maybe.  Was she going because she was afraid?  Maybe.  Afraid of being on the other end of one of these contracts, just someone who didn't know what was happening and then terrible things.   "...I don't know.  It's... mostly been good.. "  She stops skipping for a moment, looking down.  Although the one horrible time had been pretty horrible.  "..I don't know.  I'll know when I know."  She starts to skip again, trying to put it out of her mind.  "I'll think about it."

"Okay." The two continue in silence for a bit.

Minerva is happy to skip along for a while, just looking around the forest as they head back.  She'd played all over these forests and knew them pretty well, but it was nice to be in the school, too.

Lanie ponders the phrase mostly good before she finally asks, "Um, how good are you at memory alteration?"

There's a pause as she looks over. "Um..."  She blushes a bit, looking to the side.  "I don't know if I can really alter memories...  I can restore them, or... um, remove them.  I'm really good at both.  I can't really write new ones, though."

Lanie nods. "I have two I'd like you to remove, if you're willing--no pressure of course. There's, um," now the dog looks down at the dirt path as her ears and tail droop, "just, like, two that I don't want to keep, from the jobs I mean ..."

Minerva stops moving and wiggles her nose.  She turns towards Lanie.  "...I understand."  She looks off into the forest, towards the school.  "I, uh... wrestled with doing it to myself, a bunch.  Of some of the worse ones.  So I understand."  She kneels down in the dirt, bringing herself to Lanie's level.  "...Which two?"

The dog sits too. She talks through Minerva's phone softly, quietly, looking very sad. "Like, a week ago ... I, uh, I witnessed over a hundred [CIVILLIANS] get slaughtered by monsters from another dimension... it was at a recent [EVENT] in London." The dog did her best to quickly resolve the situation, but in the moment there was nothing she could do to protect them--not yet--she wasn't strong enough to save them and neither were her teammates. And now those innocent people were casualties of both her helplessness and someone else's hubris and ignorance. She looks Minerva in the eyes now. "And, um, a year ago... I, like, watched a Contractor burn a sheriff to death... in Texas... I just--the smells and sounds--it was a lot..." Burning flesh, by fire and acid. The screams of agony and anguish. She had done several traditional therapeutic methods with Mel to address the PTSD for the former event, but it didn't lessen the memories that resurfaced in her dreams.

Minerva nods slightly as she listens, looking away.  Her stomach turns, thinking of the time she saw that herself. She listens to all of it, and she shifts from her knees to just sitting in the dirt.  "...I think I saw the same aliens."  She says quietly.  "It's why I'm so scared of stopping.  Because what if I had been in that crowd?  Going from normal to scared to dead?"

"I'm so sorry, honey." The dog cuddles up to the crouched foxgirl.

She scratches the side of her muzzle, meeting Lanie's eyes for a moment before nodding just slightly.  ".... Do you want to remember asking me to delete them?"

Lanie replies, "Yes. I want to remember what I asked you to make me forget, and I want you to tell me what happened--the things I just told you--but without the memories of me being there... please." There would be an experiential gap, she hoped, but not an information gap. Just this once, and never again.

The world is darker and far more dangerous than these two had known. Would becoming the most powerful beings on earth, if they were successful and survived, bring the peace of mind they needed--knowing they would not be a victim but an agent of change, even helping others too? Or would the universe, the multiverse, just get bigger and more horrifying so that they always remained tiny fish in an ever-expanding pond until at last they were eaten?

The young girl wraps her arms around Lanie, and closes her eyes.  "Okay."  She whispers.  Her pendant starts to glow, and she slides from the waking lands into the Dreamlands, and then towards the vault of Lanie's mind.

Minerva finds herself in a large rectangular hall that resemble as classy, older-style library. The rows upon rows of books are near-perfectly organized chronologically, reflecting Lanie's meticulous records (a combination of her handwritten records and her ongoing reflections with herself, her best friend Keara, and, more recently, Mel). These nearly full, tall bookshelves wrap around from one long wall to the narrower one and then onto the other longer one, forming a "U". Each wall has several sliding ladders built in that make the higher books accessible. In the center of the room are four solid-oak desks, each with reading lamps and several blank books. One desk has a pulled-out chair and two book stacks. Here, several books lay open and are filled with neat handwriting. The fourth wall of this space is mostly a large, arched iron door leading to the other sections of the dog's orderly mind.

While Minerva has been willingly allowed in, the foxgirl senses from the building's materials (of dressed white stone, high windows which have tasteful designs made of wrought iron bars, and the single reinforced door) that Lanie has a sound, near-impenetrable mind. However, the couple of gaps in the shelves and the occasional skipping of months in the chronology reveal that her memory is not perfect; there are some things she has forgotten and some things she doesn't even remember forgetting.

The books mostly match in design, like a single massive encyclopedia set. The older sections are, for the most part, more visibly worn (which is to be expected from greater usage). The perceptive child picks up on several more details as she peers around.

• In a wastebasket near a desk are a handful of books labeled simply "Motherhood" with the embossed golden dates seeming to have been smudged out. On the ground beside the wastebasket--perhaps lost, forgotten, or poorly thrown away--lays a silver wedding band (let me know if Minerva inspects it).
• The section labeled "Early Childhood" looks particularly dusty and hardly worn despite being the oldest archives. Beside it, the books in the section labeled "High School" are more worn and the shelves cleaner.
• Lastly, the color of the books becomes more vibrant, as though the contrast was turned up, starting around fifteen months ago. These books also cover shorter chunks of time; sometimes a single book is dedicated to a week and sometimes even one day.

The space is cold, probably perfectly comfortable for someone who runs warm, and it smells faintly of lavender. It is also totally quiet.

She pads slowly along the bookshelves, examining the area, glancing at some of the titles.  She had to resist the urge she felt every time she walked into one of these - to archive the entire thing.  But Lanie trusted her, and she wouldn't do that.

Examples of titles that Minerva glances over include:

• "2001 Spring - The Puppies"
• "2014 Winter - Nursing Home Visits"
• "2016 Summer - Dissertation Completion & Sexual Harassment"
• "2017 Spring - Starting Clinical Training"

As Minerva heads along, she notices those missing books on the shelves and looks around them some.  She always found them nearby - something about the Dreamlands meant nothing was ever truly forgotten.  She gathers them up and examines the titles before putting them in a bin and somewhere together.  She'd ask Lanie after if she wanted them placed back on the selves.  She's not going to read any of them yet though.

The forgotten memories are mostly from the Early Childhood, Middle School, High School, and College shelves. The college-related ones are mostly courses that are not related to the social sciences (e.g., plant anatomy, US history, calculus). One notable high school book that is out of place is "Driving Lessons with Mom." There are also some pages strew about out of place all with the same header: "Network Member Onboarding."

The wastebasket and the things nearby stood out... Minerva picks up the silver wedding band and examines it by reflex. Upon closer examination, the wedding band has the letters "PITA" engraved on the interior. It's large and more of the boxy style that a male might wear. Minerva sets it back down afterwards.

The cub walks along, her head tilted a bit to the side to easier read the titles as she walks along.  "Eee, puppies!"  is the first comment.  The rest... don't sound as fun.

She, by reflex takes in the scene, looking over everything, before finding the index to find the memories that Lanie had asked her to delete.

The index is a thin laptop leaning against the wall on the ground near the only entrance and exit. It's plugged into an outlet, charging. Upon opening it, the foxgirl sees that Lanie is already logged in. The desktop background shows am unusually thin, frail-looking Chinese girl about Minerva's age with long black hair. She wears a forest green romper, and she's giggling while hugging a German Shepherd (who is clearly distracted and looking away from the camera). And hugging both the girl and the dog is a burly Caucasian man wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. He has tired eyes yet a warm smile. There is only one program on the laptop; it is simply titled "Remember" and has an icon of a stack of books. Opening the program brings up a simple window where one can search by phrase, time, and/or emotion. Submitting this information results in one or more search results (ordered from most to least relevant) in rows with the section name, row number, book title, and possibly a page range.

Minerva opens it up and smiles a bit at the desktop.  She then opens up Remember, and searches for the memories that she's been asked to remove.   She feels a bit wrong typing the words. 'Mass civilian death' and 'man burning to death'

Thankfully both searches only have one result each, and, as a helpful feature, each search causes the relevant book on the distant bookshelf to glow silver as it pulls a bit out for easier grabbing. The page numbers for each are also specified in the app.

Minerva would be quite concerned if either had multiple results. She notes the page numbers, and heads over to each book, pulling it out, carrying it over to the table. She flips it open, heading to that page... and then, with the tips of her claws, gently, slowly... cuts the page out.  She places it in a folder afterwards, putting it along with the rest of the forgotten memories under a table.

As she rips out the pages, for a brief moment she is there. She sees and smells the gore, and she feels the visceral horror and helplessness of those two moments. In the process, it becomes clear to Minerva that the incident she thought Lanie had experienced was not the same one as the foxgirl. And then the scenes are gone, tucked away, strategically forgotten.

Minerva steels herself for a moment as she touches those pages.  She knew it would happen, and it made her stomach turn.  Not just the scene - that was bad enough, but the helplessness.  That was the worst.  The fact it was a different monster was... not good, either.  But perhaps she'd be forewarned if she came across them. The books would grow new pages, written with more pleasing memories.  They'd never feel quite right to Minerva, but she was sure they'd feel right to Lanie.  She nods softly, her work done.

What took several minutes in Minerva's mind (in Lanie's) took in reality a half an hour. The foxgirl and the dog are on a well-trodden dirt path in the middle of a forest on a pleasant late afternoon, the girl sitting down to be at the dog's height (kneeling got tiring after a few minutes) and still in an embrace with the dog. 

Eventually, the foxgirl blinks a few times, the glow on her pendant fading.  She shakes her head just a little as she comes out of her trance.  "Okay.  All done.   You asked me to remind you, so..."  She begins to describe the scenario with the civilians being slaughtered and such.  And then the man in Texas being burnt.  But it was listening to events that happened to someone else.

Lanie listens somberly and, once the description is done, she sighs. And then begins to pant as Minerva gets another call. "I understand... thank you, Minerva. My mind--I wouldn't have let anyone else do that... To know is very different than to feel. Thanks for lightening that load for me." The dog licks the foxgirl's paw a little to punctuate her gratitude.

The young foxgirl nods, and hugs the dog close.  Lanie hugs back, as best a dog can without jumping up. "You're welcome."  She stands up, dusting herself off some.  "We should get back to the school.  We've been gone a while..."

"Yes, I agree." As much as she loved the forest, the dog had done her best that whole half-hour to not chase the wildlife. All that steeled willpower can be a bit taxing. The two continue their walk in quiet for a bit before the dog asks, "Oh--I almost forgot, is there anything you need from the Network or anything new you'd like to offer?"

Minerva starts to skip along a little, her tail flitting about as she does.  She pauses a moment as she looks over at that question.  "Uhh... things I need?  I... don't think so.  Things I can offer?  I... don't know.  You know what I can do."

Lanie responds with an "Mhm. Alright. " Since Minerva had gone on a Contract every two weeks, she knew the girl could do more now than before they lost contact. But if the answer was no, that was an answer she accepted. The two continue on in a peaceful silence. There is much work to do at the school for Lanie, and schoolwork for Minerva, but for now it is just two friends walking side by side.

-------

Punch It a Bunch

Minerva checks her phone a few times during the week, and then finds Lanie at one point.  "... you said you knew Mark Collins, right?"

"Mhm." The dog answers telekinetically, pausing her rapid chowing down of a bowl full of steak to pant.

"Do you trust him?"

"... He fully means well, but he's sort of like a hammer who looks around and only sees nails." She snorts. "A not-exceptionally-bright hammer." She licks her chops, glancing down at the uneaten food but then prioritizing her friend.

Minerva nods a little bit... before starting to giggle, putting her paws over her muzzle to hide it a bit.  "Okay."  She pauses.  "He asked me to help him with the Kaiju stuff.  I'm thinking of going.  I told him he had to ask the principal first, though...   I already miss a good bit of classes..."

While Minerva speaks, Lanie inhales a few more bits and swallows them half-chewed. gulp "A kaiju fighting a massive robot in the ocean doesn't seem like much of an issue to me, so long as they stay away from the coast... and they don't have, like, sci-fi death ray blasts or atomic bomb-equivalent powers. The ocean's a big place. The better question is what the survivor will do, if anything, once the fight is over--assuming there is one." Minerva can see the panting dog's internal struggle to not look down, her gaze constantly re-fixing on her. "I'd assume if the creature wins then the Japanese military will attempt to kill or contain it. And if the robot wins then the military will try to take it down. So, what exactly does Mark want to do?"

Minerva giggles a bit as Lanie keeps looking back at the food.  "Do you want me to come back after you're done eating?"

Lanie's ears go back briefly. "N-no, uh, now is fine." Yet she licks her chops again.

"I think he just wants to watch until one wins and then see if one heads for the coast... it sounds like he mainly just wants video of it..."

"And if it heads for the coast, what would you specifically do about that?"

"...I dunno.  I think he wants me to try to talk to it. Failing that I guess he'll punch it a bunch?"

Lanie perks up. Now Minerva has her full attention. "You can talk to a kaiju?"

"Me?  Oh, I can talk to anything!  Not everything wants to talk back, but as long as it has a presence in the Dreamlands I can talk to it there and it'll understand me as much as it can.  And everything is in the Dreamlands..."

That is new to the dog; her tail begins to wag. "I see! I have a friend who is in need of your help then: Iryna Vorobyova, 'Mother of Dragons'. But back to this... I guess if you decide to go, expect to be there solo--without Mark's help, I mean. He hasn't been the most reliable in the past."

Minerva nodnods!  This ability she just felt like she always had, so it didn't feel worth mentioning usually.   "Okay!  Um... I think she knows!  Maybe? And... really?"  She sounded... underwhelmed.  "He'd invite me to help and then not show up?"

"No, it's more like... expect to carry the team." A pause. "Iryna already knows? Do you know her?"

"I've met her on a couple of the jobs.  But I guess I don't know if I've talked to anything on them or told her... and oh."

"In that case, if you want to shoot her a text and let her know that you can communicate with animals. She had asked me if I knew anyone who could a while ago, and I told her I would keep an eye out for her... I don't have much more to say about Mark. He's not a Member of the Network... I suppose I should add him..." With that, Lanie proceeds with devouring what remains of her meal at an incredible speed--tail wagging swiftly.

The little foxgirl nods a little bit. "Okay." She giggles as Lanie goes back to the food, and nodnods. "Okay. I will. Thank you!"

-------

Moments Like These

Luci, Alister, Conner, and Iryna went home; Minerva's two (physically healed) parents rest under sedation in the school's medical building; and the group of horrifyingly ridiculous, abandoned land sharks wander the Faraday grounds.

Minerva will wait until this is all said and done to break down some and just hug Lanie and cry into her fur.

And the dog will let her, sort of hugging her with a chin on the foxgirl's shoulder and pressing in. She won't say anything until Minerva's quieter. If Lanie wasn't born for moments like these, then she chose to make herself for moments like these--especially those she cared about. Her fur smells faintly like lavender and she's quite clean, although also shedding--always shedding.

Minerva just holds Lanie, crying and crying, dampening her fur and Lanie's some.  She only stops crying when she falls asleep, kneeling and still holding the dog.   Adrenaline falloff.

The dog patiently stays seated there for a long while. These two are in the privacy of Lanie's temporary office, so there are no onlookers and they are in no one's way. Her fur where Minerva's face is asleep, kneeling all damp with tears and snot. She eventually considers laying down but doesn't want to disturb the sleeping girl. She considers her options and, at least an hour after Minerva fell asleep, tries to gently use telekinesis to lay the girl down (positioning herself under her head a bit like a pillow).

Minerva shifts some as she's lain down not entirely gently, her eyes half opening.  She starts to stir before falling asleep again, just snuggling into the soft dog pillow.   In her sleep, she curls her bushy between her legs, holding onto it.

The two rest for a few hours. The principal pokes in at some point. The click of the doorknob gives Lanie the urge to bark territorially, but she contains herself. Instead, the 'intruder' gets a brief, silent phone call. And then she leaves. Sometime later, Minerva awakes curled up on the ground beside Lanie who is also curled up and asleep, her tail resting over her nose as this breed does (an adaptive trait to prevent nose frostbite). It may be a bit confusing at first to wake up in a room other than one's bedroom, on the hard floor and not one's bed, at a time when one doesn't usually awake--the late afternoon when the shadows are long.

Minerva wakes slowly.  It wasn't a particularly restful sleep... but fortunately she was a cub, and thus could sleep sprawled out in three axes without waking up sore.  She shifts slightly, trying to remember where she was for the first couple of moments.  The confusion causes her to jerk awake a little bit - the child had gained those reflexes enough from being a contractor - but after a moment everything came back to her.  She settles a bit, finishing waking up.  Looking out the window... it was still light out.  After a moment, she goes to sit up.

Minerva looks over at Lanie as she starts to nuzzle her, and she hugs tightly, closing her eyes.  She lets out a breath after.  "I should get cleaned up, and then go see my parents.  They were sedated before; they might be out now..."

The dog nods and then picks up the fallen pen to answer, "Okay, but afterwards I want to talk to you about something important--about control."

Minerva nods softly.  "Okay."  She heads into the bathroom, and has a shower.  She could just will herself clean, but... it was not quite the same as having water running over you.  Afterwards, she dries off and then steps out of the bathroom... and then to the little clinic in the school. She'd insisted her parents be here, and... well, it was hard to resist her when she put her mind to it.  She was there for about fifteen minutes before returning to the bedroom.  "They're still asleep."  She says quietly. She sits down on the side of her bed. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

During Minerva's absence, Lanie spot cleans herself in the nearby employee restroom and then gets refreshed with a snack and a drink that she kept stocked in this office. The foxgirl returns to find the white dog seated on the ground in the office with her back to a wall, patiently waiting for her.

"Asleep is good," the dog holding the metal pen replies just as quietly. "They went through a lot ... nothing's going to change the past, but the others repaired their bodies and I'll repair their minds, like, once they're coherent enough to understand my process and give their consent." Technically she could perform the therapy session on them now while they slept, but that felt unethical.

Minerva pauses a moment, and looks to the side.  "I thought about making them forget.  Would that be..."  She shakes her head a little bit.  It wouldn't be right, to do, without asking.. and she didn't know if she wanted to tell her parents she could make people forget things.  That she was so much stronger than when she'd first been sent away. That she was getting stronger still.  She nods softly.  "Okay." She trusted Lanie, to be able to repair their minds.  She knew the therapy dog could fix them.  She'd fixed her a lot.

"I want to talk to you a moment about control..." Lanie paws at the carpet beside her, the equivalent of a pat indicating where to sit. "... because someone was trying to manipulate you and I want to make sure that you noticed it."

She listens quietly, looking at the carpet there.  It took a moment for her to stand and then move over to the carpet, the foxgirl sitting on the floor, curling her tail around herself. She wiggles her nose.  "... Who?"  She hadn't.

"The man who kidnapped your parents. He's trying to control you by saying that you made him do what he did. That's a classic abuser manipulation tactic. The truth is that no one makes someone else do or feel anything. We are in control of our own actions and reactions--well... we can nearly always be in control of our own actions, supernatural abilities aside. I'm talking about mundane interactions and, like, someone who has a sound, relatively stable mind (even if it's an evil, warped one). Even when someone 'loses control' and binges or kills someone else, in that situation they have given up their control maybe to the situation or their emotions or to someone else. But back to my point: when someone says, 'you made me do this' it's a lie, even if that person thinks its totally true. That man... he chose to do what he did for his own reasons using his own agency. The advantage to him for saying that--for claiming that you were the cause of such a horrible situation and his violence--is filling you with guilt, fear, and rage. Emotional manipulation. He's basically asserting that he had no choice and no responsibility. However, the truth is that you are not responsible for anyone else's actions or even their feelings outside of your own. That is... you can lean people in one direction or another by your own actions--being nice can lean others towards being nice back, and being mean can lean others towards being mean back. But ultimately their actions and reactions are their own choice, even if they don't recognize that."

Minerva sits on the carpet, and pulls her legs into her chest some as she listens.  Her fluffy tail curls around them as well as her legs, just kind of being a sitting foxball as she listens. She nods slightly at the end, and looks away, and then back, and then away again.  "...I'm going to hurt them."  She says quietly.

The dog does not seem phased by what the foxgirl just said. "I know." Lanie looks her in the eyes. "But when you do, do not lower yourself become what they are. Don't go after their loved ones, like, if their loved ones are innocent, and don't tell yourself that they made you do whatever it is that you're going to do to them ... Because you are making a choice."

Minerva meets her eyes, and she nods slightly. She looks away though as the dog says to not lower herself, and her eyes go down slightly.  That... she had thought of.  She felt a little bad now that Lanie was saying it, but going after their loved ones had come to mind. She looks almost guilty as Lanie says all of that. "... They deserve it."

Lanie moves a little closer, leaning on Minerva, and lets her have some privacy by looking away from her. There is no judgement in the dog's tone, only seriousness and patience. "You can decide that, yes... I'm asking you to not become the kind of person that always gives people what they deserve ... because their loved ones may not deserve it--just like your parents didn't--and because you are better than them." There is a long pause. "I believe you're better than that." The dog's ears go back at bit, and her tone falters. "I want you to be better than that."

The young child stews a little as Lanie leans against her like that.   She knew the dog wasn't judging her,  but... she knew they'd be disappointed if she made bad choices.  And then they had to go twist the knife.   "... okay." She says quietly.   She would be better.  Not... necessarily for herself,  but for Lanie.

This makes the dog relax with a sigh, revealing her underlying tension. Still not looking her in the eye, fluffy back pressed against the girl, Lanie answers, "Thank you." 

Minerva hugs them again and closes her eyes.  "Thank you for being here,  too.  I'm going to go sit by my parents now,  okay?"

The hug is returned. "Of course! I care about you. I'm heading back to my room, so just let me know if you need or want me."

The Beauty of Creatures

A call sometime later between Lanie and Connor Inkz.

"May I help you hunt cryptids for art supplies in exchange for this dog vest? It only seems fair..."

“I don’t like calling it 'cryptid hunting.' I just procure special art supplies from their bodies. If they can survive, I prefer that. I am a maker of life I only take it when necessary.”

"I see. To be honest, I wouldn't help you kill a unicorn or anything--maybe just a vampire or something threatening the public..." Would she really help him kill a vampire, knowing Theo was one? Or would she help them too? But some cannot be helped, like the ones she came across on a much earlier Contract--or could they? In that instance, Abbas didn't wait to find out. "Wait, what specifically do you procure? Arms and legs? Horns and fur?"

“All of it?”

"... do you heal them after? Do you knock them out while you--" WAIT is this torture?!

“It depends on the species. Unfortunately, I am a pioneer of my craft as not many are even in the field of procuring cryptid parts. Some need to be put down as their base instincts put them on too much of a collision path with humans. I do have the ability to heal the scars created from the procurement if possible. I should consider knocking them out though. I’ll design the next procurement team around that idea.”

"That--yes, that would be more humane. I don't hunt cryptids myself, not at all, but since you gave me this as a gift, let me know if there's something you'd like help going after--or help with something else. While I'm not the best at combat, I can decently defend myself, and I have the advantages a mundane dog would have--speed and a good nose. I can, uh, also hold down things with telekinesis, if you figure out a way to make the, uh, procedure painless or otherwise not horrid for the creature..."

“Uh, I make really good dogs….”

"But you don't make sapient dogs, it sounds like. Dogs who have telekinesis, can sense small vibrations, can heal by licking... I'm sure of that. I'm a Contractor, not just a dog."

“Would it be rude to ask for just a little of your brain? I’ll fix it.”

A long pause over the line. "It would, yes. Very rude. Best not to ask for it." This man is more insane than average--but at least he asked.

“Alright then. If by any chance… hypothetically if you get shot in the head and survive… any chance you’d collect the brain matter? I’ll pay handsomely.” It seems he’s putting too much thought into if he into this.

"Look, Inkz ... I don't want you mind controlling dogs to their detriment. They could die going after cryptids, and based on how casually you left those landsharks behind at Faraday I'm not convinced you're being fully responsible with baseline sentient animals."

rude “Huh?”

"I felt you scratching at my mind when you offered that food."

“I’ll just make more dogs. I can easily repopulate them. Plus, I am expanding the ecosystem with ART the world is better because it’s more beautiful now.” Inkz laughs “I left the Land Sharks because they have a right to live. Would you have preferred their extinction? How was I to know you were a coworker. I will point out you’re a dog.”

"I would have preferred you, the grown adult who created them, relocate them with, like, OWL so that they could be in at least some humane containment safe from hunters and not eating and horrifying the public. Where do your dogs come from, 'dog maker'?" She sounds very professional and neutral now.

“They come from dirt and water.” Conner sounds very matter of fact when saying this “How would making owls help?”

A pause. "You make dogs from mud?"

“Just like the first man, yes.”

"Alright, where did those sharks come from?"

“Dirt and water.”

Well, if he was being honest... "I owe you a partial apology then. I assumed you were taking existing animals and modifying them." Which for some reason felt much worse than making 'animals' from basically scratch. Were they really animals at that point? Also, Lanie is sure that he's using mind control on them. "I do still think you should, like, anonymously donate them to an organization that exists to protect cryptids though--or otherwise figure out how to make sure they don't end up on someone's trophy mantle or wall. The only one I know of is called OWL--O-W-L--I don't remember what it stands for."

“They deserve to be free and not hindered, and I will not as their creator and god will not restrain their free will beyond what the angels and devils tell me are necessary.”

"Are they able to survive in the wild without you?"

“If they don’t then they were a flawed project. Even gods make mistakes; look at humans. You must understand me well since you understand the beauty of creatures. Since you have risked your life to become one. You must understand me more than anyone else... Neanderthals aren’t around and we don’t mourn them.”

"So, from the beginning," Lanie says slowly, "you 'harvest' cryptid creatures and then generate more for others to enjoy--as onlookers and hunters--unless they by some chance happen to be intelligent and adaptive enough to survive modern man going after them. What I wish you had, Inkz, was a separate universe to let them loose in--or one where they could run to for safety from this one. But instead of seeing them as your children, your responsibility, you put these beasts into the world and then wash your hands of them. You use them when they are useful as payment for their existence and then expect them to fend for themselves afterwards. Yes, I understand the beauty of creatures to the point of making myself vulnerable as one of them. And I understand what you're doing. But I don't agree with it."

“By that logic you would disagree with a deity responsible for creation then the Judeo-Christian god has washed his hands thousands of years ago and I certainly don’t see that Elephant guy around Ganesh. I don’t make them for the onlookers or even hunters. I make them because this is what the world always should have been. Whoever created this world did so in a flawed way and I intend to fix it. There isn’t anything to disagree with just like in nature these creatures are ready from birth to grow and thrive. This is the law of nature only a few rare creatures tend to their young that’s mostly humans and other mammals and even then, I am their father not their mother.”

"The Judeo-Christian God washed His hands of almost all of humanity. Yes, I do disagree there too." Connor hears a disdainful dog snort on the other end of the line. And then there is another long moment of silence. "We take different paths, Inkz. But I don't have to like what you do with your creations to be your co-worker in this mass psychosis that we call 'contracting.'"

“That’s great to hear. Though those in our work tend to leave others to their affairs unless invited. Which is what I assumed was proper etiquette.”

"What could I have done other than state my disagreement? I'm just a sapient dog trying to cure the world of Ghoul Fever madness... and keep most of the Contractors I come across safe and alive."

“Ope.”

"My offer to help you hunt a cryptid still stands--if you have a way to not torture it while you collect your 'art supplies.'"

“Yeah, Ghoul Fever, that was a doozy, huh? What, oh yeah, I don’t know. I mostly trade for them now. I don’t do a lot of hunting personally. A lot of my time is taken up repopulating almost extinct species; it’s not much but I can keep them from going fully extinct.”

Now that sounded more noble than making land sharks at least. Although re-populating dragons and unicorns in the modern era is, without a doubt, morally nuanced for Lanie. "Best of luck? I suppose we'll be in touch then, beast maker."

-------

Stopped By

Lanie and Sierra returned from Faraday. A few days later Bu Fang stopped by to drop off some delicious food and a not-so-normal narcolepsy service dog in training. In exchange, he received a powerful pair of cufflinks. During a shared meal, Lanie asked if Bu knew anyone who could create temporary disguises, prompting the chef to reveal his grief over a fallen fellow Contractor and friend.

After Bu leaves, Lanie tries calling Theo again and this time she reaches him. The dogtor learns that his identity has been "stolen" in a highly unusual way: he had been transformed into a monkey (which she had known about months earlier and helped him connect with Akira to get un-transformed), and during that time an actual monkey had been transformed into him. This led to several issues; his assets were frozen and he was deemed legally insane before being admitted to an asylum. To clean up this mess, Lanie calls in a favor from Mel who is a licensed mental health practitioner. Several long conversations with the psychologists in charge later, the legal issues are straightened out, with the "insane Theo" being deemed "not actually Theo."

However, in the process a much bigger issue comes to light which sparks tensions between Lanie and Mel. Namely, the real Theo smells of fresh blood and dirty old woman, which both psychologists immediately pick up. This reveals that the goblin has been feeding on homeless people (although not to their deaths). Moral issues aside, based on the reaction of over half of the institutionalized people in the asylum chanting "Blood father!" Lanie realizes that she had misunderstood where Theo had been sourcing his fresh blood. She also realizes that she had also dismissed something very important. Just as Abbas warned her, the Network member had been inadvertently spreading a weak strain of vampirism among the most vulnerable in society. But what could be done about that now? It's not like the dog could just cure vampirism when far more powerful healers like Terry couldn't and those far more knowledgeable about the occult had zero ideas.

A few days later, Lanie receives several large packages in the mail, the outfits she ordered from Bryan, with a note explaining that something came up that prevented him from making the delivery in person.

-------

Again

Another call to Inkz a few days later. "Hey Inkz ... what would you pay for vampire fangs?"

“$40,000 for a full set.”

"That's too low. And I can get you several sets if you promise me to not make, like, human-consuming animals like the rabbits from Monte Python."

“… you mean again?”

There is a long pause. Isn't this the man who said he's willing to kill cryptids when they're path is too much in opposition to humanity? "You know what, I think I have a different buyer." She's serious.

“Let me know if you find anything else.”

"Sure." Maybe. The call ends.

Lanie then calls Bu Fang who, after asking some questions about the source of the materials, offered alterations or cash to the unknown Network member.

-------

Full of Dog

Several weeks later, Dreamer gets a 'call' from Lanie, advanced notice that she will soon be at the library. From there, two dogs pile into a sedan and make the long 16-hour drive from Salem, IN, to Houston, TX, over the course of two days.

This specific public library is a comfortable, cottage core themed space, decorated with plants and cozy places to read. The ground floor contains a microfilm room and a check-out desk manned by a bored looking teenager. This floor also contains the fiction half of the library--sci-fi, fantasy and the like.

In the early afternoon on a weekday, a fit white woman in her thirties wearing steel-toed boots, black jeans, an untucked wrinkled button-up shirt, and dark sunglasses strides past the automatic doors of the quiet library. In one hand she firmly grips the harness of a service dog (a black German Shepherd). In the other hand she lugs a carry-on size bag, and she also carries a backpack. Thankfully this public space has a small Braille book section, so her presence makes some sense.

The woman proceeds to check out a book (on the proud history of Texas, the Braille translation funded by the state) at the front desk. If anyone is keenly watching her, it is apparent she has decent vision and is a poor actor. However, she isn't accosted.

Upon attempting to check out a book, however, the tired teenager scowls at the screen of the computer as she swipes the card. “I’m so sorry ma’am, but there’s an error with the system. Don’t worry, this happens from time to time, we are just going to need you to take the elevator over her--I mean, sorry, I’ll lead you there.” She gets up and helps direct the woman to the elevator nearby. “Tech help desk will be the door immediately on the left.”

The woman nods before she follows the young lady to the elevator, not asking any questions. She wears an AirPod in one ear, and it is at this point unclear who is leading who--the woman or the dog. "Press the button for the correct floor," she says almost like a command.

Instead, the elevator closes behind you, and instead of going up to the second floor, it starts going down without button input. It descends for a few moments before opening up into a grand rail station turned library, Dreamer sitting nearby and listening to a cassette tape attached to her headphones.

The stacks, and in fact the entire area of the library, appears to be an abandoned rail station, with the the rails ripped out of the center with the paw of a huge beast. Where the rails once were makes up a central hallway, with stairs leading up either side to seas of dark oak bookshelves, separated on genre and alphabetized by subject material. The shelves hold a collection of books, newspapers, scrolls, photos, cassette tapes and all sorts of physical media, specifically curated to the odd tastes of contractors and occultists. Overlooking the area is a massive painting of a black Corvid, darker than the night storm around it, as if it were taking up the skyline.

The woman steps into the space and takes in the details without awe or amusement, like one who expects trouble to be lying in wait right around the corner. Her gaze rests on Dreamer, someone who shares several physical features with her--the more masculine build and clothing, freckles, dark hair, and pretty eyes (although hers are light blue, not grey). She nods, lets go of the dog harness, and then unzips the luggage bag while it is still upright, freeing the white fluffy dog from her carrying case. The dog is holding a metal pen in its mouth. Lanie promptly hops out and does a full-body shake, briefly creating an aura of shed fur in the process. That was not pleasant.

“Ah welcome Lanie. Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, I know the Texas weather can’t have been great, even this time of year.”

The dog trots over to Dreamer, tail wagging and ears alert. She is within reach of the petting zone but is polite enough to not request it. "That's fine. In this double coat, it's really only the arctic where I'd be fully comfortable. I suppose I could shave though..." but she was saving that for if she got into a fair bout of trouble and needed to look a little different for a while. There's only so much one can change as a dog. Her voice comes from the speaker in her collar like before. Sierra stands there with folded arms beside the other dog, who is seated patiently. Despite her posture, her expression is neutral as looks around a bit more. She doesn't see any cameras.

“Would it be rude if I asked to pet you? I don’t know how you feel about that as you are sapient.”

The curled fluffy tail wags faster now. "No--not rude at all--but thanks for asking!" She is audibly and visibly excited.

Dreamer smiles and pets Lanie on the head, turning to the other human in the room. “Nice to meet you, you can call me Dreamer. And you are?” She asks, extending a hand that is not currently full of dog. The white fluffy dog seems to get lost in the pets.

"Sierra." The woman approaches and the other dog follows her attentively. She shakes Dreamer's hand firmly yet briefly. "I'm Lanie's bodyguard. And this is Knight." She gestures with a tattooed hand towards the black German Shepherd who is now seated and sniffing the air in Dreamer's direction (but not approaching closer).

Lanie leans into the scritches behind her ears, her back leg thumping the ground lightly outside of her control. "Mmhmm... Knight... Knight, um..." She finally pulls away to talking straight. "Like, Night's only partially trained. Part of the process requires you two working together for a bit."

“I understand. This will be fun, won’t it Knight?” She leans down and extends her hand to the dog, palm cupped down.

The black dog looks to Sierra for permission, who nods and says, "Go ahead. You're not mine, you're theirs." Then he sniffs and licks her hand a little, low tail wagging slowly. Lanie is pleased that Dreamer not only highly values animals but also clearly understands of how to interact with dogs. "I can do the rest of the training with you both, or I can arrange for someone else to do it--whatever you'd prefer. Also, the food..."

Sierra sets down her grey JanSport backpack, opens it, and pulls out an insulated lunchbox. Opening that, she pulls out some ice packs and two glass containers of food--one large wad of thick noodles and one large meatball. "Got a fridge down here?"

“I have one, not down here though. I’ll take those off of your hands though.” She will gesture for them. “Thank you for all of this. What can I do for you for doing all of this for me?”

Sierra hands the food containers over, which Knight sniffs at and then licks his chops. However, he stays put and doesn't move closer to the food. "Good boy, Knight," Lanie replies, her own tail wagging. Praise between dogs might be a tad ironic. Lanie proceeds to pant and look at Sierra who fishes some kibble out of her pocket and offers it to the black dog, kneeling and with an open palm. The dog quickly, happily licks it up.

"No need to repay me," Lanie replies. "At the moment, I have nothing to offer you that is equivalent to your supernatural clothing--but maybe I will in the future. And I'm in no need of someone skilled in theft and spying." The dog goes quiet as she proceeds to scratch herself behind the ear with her hind leg. Fur was much itchier than she had originally imagined.

“Well alright then, just let me repay you with this.” She pulls a blue library card from her pocket and extends it Lanie. “It will let you come in at anytime. And let me know if you do end up needing a thief, I’m pretty good at it.”

"I will, thanks!" Lanie proceeds to gobble up the blue library card just like she had done with the grey one in the London hotel room. Taking a seat on the floor in front of Dreamer, the dog says, "There is one more thing I'd like to offer before I go... I've created a network of Contractors who can, anonymously or confidentially, trade their goods and services with each other. I use supernaturally obscured telepathy to stay in touch with them. It uses their phones as a focus, but I don't actually need to know their phone numbers. This is an advantage because it means there is one less bit of personal information I have on them, should I ever be captured and interrogated." The dog snorts lightly at the thought. "Anyways, all of the members have completed an in-person psychological screening with me, which is just, like, a long conversation. This is so that I can try to identify the malicious ones, the ones who would be dangerous to put in touch with my allies and friends. Is this something you might be interested in joining?"

“Hm… I suppose I wouldn’t mind, especially if you put my services into circulation. What would this screening entail?” She asks as she beckons over Knight, petting down his side.

"Just a conversation, should take no more than an hour. Some of the questions may be personal though."

Knight obediently comes closer and then enjoys the pets, seeming to finally relax a bit.

Meanwhile, Sierra fishes a small pouch out of the open backpack and offers it to Dreamer. "Here, you'll need this. Something about constant reinforcement." It holds kibble.

"Close--'consistent reinforcement,'" Lanie corrects, "and only of the positive behaviors." Sierra shrugs.

“Understood, on both fronts. Fortunately, there aren’t other people back here at the moment, just the Coyote. Ask whatever questions you feel necessary.” She takes the bag of kibble.

Ish`ta's ears would flick to the found of people being in the area, they seemingly stayed underneath a well woven, perfectly made quilt, almost like it was made for him. The large nearly two-story tall coyote would be resting a bit; however, the fact that another person, or creature in this case, was down here besides Jessie did interest him. But he'd never show it, even if he'd peek and eye open and look past the quilt.

Sierra's eyes get wide when Dreamer mentions the Coyote, and she looks around for it with pursed lips and a furrowed brow before spotting the massive beast mostly under the blanket in the far corner of the room. Then she just looks surprised. In contrast, Lanie simply sniffs the air in the direction of the coyote. So that's what that smell is. She assumed it was just another dog, which wasn't inaccurate, and that the place hadn't been cleaned in a while (which is why it smelled like a lot of the dog).

The white dog (still holding the pen) turns to Sierra. Still speaking from the collar, Lanie asks, "Would you like to stay down here or roam outside? It’s safe to assume that I'll be fine here." Sierra doesn't look convinced. Glancing again at the massive beast under the quilt, she grabs a random book off of a nearby shelf and posts up in a chair a bit away with her backpack, enough for some social space but still maintaining a clear view of her employer. And a good distance from the coyote. Lanie softly sighs. Well... she literally paid for that. And then she starts to pant, and a few seconds later Dreamer gets a phone call from the telepathic dog.

Dreamer picks up the phone. “Sorry about not mentioning him until now. Ish`ta is a friend, who doubles as in house security, and triples as an excellent story teller. He’s part of the social contract here; I invite you into my home, let you use my resources, and maybe even borrow my collection pieces, and I have a 20ft coyote here to ensure I, and others, don’t get jumped and stolen from. A balance to the safe space.” She smiles, leaning down and resting her head against Knight for a moment, petting him under the chin before straightening back up and looking at Lanie.

Eves dropping on the visitors, as well as of course listening to what they were saying, he could very well see that the new people here were friends of Jessie. At least as much as they could be considered, so he couldn't be a bother to Jessie's company, or end up demanding things again, after all he didn't need much but it wasn't as if he'd be above asking for something just for attention. Again, he'd never admit that, but it was fairly clear. Regardless, on getting up a bit the large beast would stretch somewhat, keeping the quilt around him like it was a cloak, rarely ever moving from it or out of it. They came closer and no sooner couldn't hold back his curiosity, "Jessie, to whom is your visitor? Are they one of the servants you promised?" They asked directly while moving close but keeping some distance, after all every step covered about ten feet.

“No such luck yet, getting the right kind of people who are willing to serve strange forces is tough. This is a friend of mine, Lanie, she’s working as middle ground for a trade and business network for me. Lanie, this is Ish`ta.”

As the coyote makes himself more known, Knight's ears go down and the back of his fur raises. He tenses up but stays put and doesn't bark at the thing. Yet.

Sierra quickly sets down the book and pulls her backpack up onto her lap, hand inside of it. "It's fine, Sierra--relax," Lanie says gently (through her collar). Her tense friend responds by pulling her hand back out of the backpack, emptyhanded. The woman still seems on edge though.

The medium-sized 45 lb. dog holding a pen in its mouth approaches the coyote, tail low and barely wagging, ears alert, looking up. The size difference between the canines is vast. "Good afternoon, Ish'ta. My name is Lanie, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her tone conveys confidence and professionalism. "I'm glad you're here with Dreamer. Our kind, the ones that accept dangerous jobs offered by powerful unknown forces, can always benefit from the protection a strong ally."

Dreamer puts a comforting hand on Knight, letting him know that the other animal nearby is not a threat.

Ish'ta would nod gently to Jessie, finding it a tad annoying that the promise was not met but he'd forgive her, besides she gave him plenty so far so he didn't mind waiting. To Lanie however he would bend down, laying almost fully on the ground as he'd at least come to eye level with the fellow canine, "Like wise. Hm...You interest me, are you your own or do you belong to another?" HIs phrasing seemed old, but it was easy to understand that he was acting if she was a pet.

Lanie sniffs politely towards Ish'ta before answering, "Legally I cannot be my own, so I hired a bodyguard and am licensed to her now as a pet." She glances back at Sierra, whose vigilant gaze never leaves the dogtor. "And soon I might be licensed to a corporate entity for the greater legal protections that can offer me. Nevertheless, in spirit and in power I am my own person." Whoever Lanie 'belonged to' is ultimately her choice.

Ish'ta took in this information, not fully understanding it but would look back on his knowledge of the human world he would scoff, "The humans are fickle in their use of bureaucracy and red tape. You can speak your mind; you should be given the same rights as others." He groaned, annoyed with the state of the world, but he couldn't control it as such complaining was another deal. "Regardless, it is pleasant to speak with another creature with intelligence." He'd say with a mix of authority and also a tone of vague happiness, however he tried his best not to show it while sniffing Lanie a bit. Looking to Jessie he would then request something of her, "Jessie? The room is becoming mixed in scents, I request more vanilla scented air cans." He was asking for vanilla-scented Febreze.

“This is the last one before I can get to the store again. Anything else I should get while I’m there?” Jesse asks in earnest, not a hint of annoyance in her voice as she begins to sprits down the massive quilt the size of a fumigation tent with a bottle taken from her satchel. “And human bureaucracy is so dull and overly complex, built on outdated systems that themselves were built on greed and prejudice. It’s like trying to fix a building when the foundation is made of cards.”

Ish'ta would contemplate for a moment, he wasn't hungry, all due to Jessie, so he had no taste or wish to indulge in food. Now he indulged in these nice scents, and talking for the most part, "Hm, nothing comes to mind. You may also do so later when you are free." It looked like he was trying not to be rude, after all he had no intention of pulling her away from her friend.

Sniffing the air he clearly enjoyed the smell and seemed very relaxed from it, but would respond to her retort. "I'm sure that one day that will all fall away, and you all will revert to a time when fear of the unknown was what kept humans from believing they were unstoppable."

Lanie cannot help but sneeze several times at the overwhelming scent of vanilla. If Ish'ta had a nose like hers of better, he really liked that particular smell. At least it is a high-quality scent, not the sharp artificial vanilla. For her part, she smelled of dog (inevitably) and faintly of lavender, the mildest dog-friendly shampoo she'd been able to find thus far. Knight smelled of it too and also Sierra (who helped wash him). That and the chemicals associated with a clean car interior. "Perhaps on that day, if I'm still around, I will be safer," the dog replies to the massive coyote. Saliva drips off her pen onto the rug atop the tile floor; holding a metal pen in one's mouth did that. "Until then, I'm doing my best given my circumstances." She pauses for a moment before adding, "You're an excellent storyteller, which means you love hearing stories as well ... but how good are you at keeping secrets?"

Dreamer, before being engulfed in vanilla, smelled of rose conditioner, new book, and faintly of some sort of chemical… something that Lanie cannot quite make out but she's certain she hasn't smelled before.

The Coyote's nose was tempered, able to not be overwhelmed by scents and the like but he did have a level which he knew may just irritate those around him, as such he didn't wish to overdo it when it came to having pleasant scents on his fur and quilt. For those around him he enjoyed everyone’s smells, but he liked vanilla the most. However, as he listened to Lanie his ears would spike up a bit; he did enjoy stories as well as giving them when possible of his past. But secrets were a particularly intriguing thing to him. "A challenge? If so, I can keep many secrets." He spoke with a bit of pride. "What secrets do you wish to share?"

"Everything about myself, which only three others know in full," the dog answers. "The jobs I have taken, the things I have done and seen, and what got me here to this moment." She glances back at Sierra, who knows a little of her story but only in generalizations. The less details the bodyguard knew, the better for both of them. But who could easily interrogate this beast? "Like, it's not much in light of the mysteries of the universe," the multiverse? "But it's not something you've ever heard before... and I'm willing to share it--probably in parts over several days." She seems a bit timid near the end there, unsure of whether her offer is of interest or value to the coyote.

Looking Lanie over he would smile some to her wish to divulge so much information about herself, "Such valuable wisdom you must hold, I do take a liking to learning much about the world and other unique creatures. Given you are so keen as to offer this information so willingly it is only polite to listen and take in everything you wish to offer." He'd pause however before soon adding, "However is there something in return you'd wish? Stories freely given must be returned in some way." It was an odd offer, but it seemed like the Coyote believed if she gave information and knowledge to him, or even just a pleasant story, that he should offer something in return. Very similar to how he treated Jessie whenever she asked him about things he may know, and in return he wished to know what adventures she went on while away.

“It is the way of the Library, Dreamer adds. "Where data is a commodity and secrets are a currency. In fact, I’m attempting to set up a system where people who do as you wish to, pouring all of themselves into a book, good and bad, are rewarded, or protected in a way. The details on that system are still forthcoming.”

Ish'ta's first response causes the seated dog's tail to thump on the floor. She seems to have expected the counteroffer, and she nods to Dreamer's additional explanation. "I'd only like for you, great coyote, to consider being my friend, like, once you know everything about me." At this point, both Sierra and Knight seem more relaxed. Perhaps it’s hard to be scared of a 20 ft talking coyote who really likes the smell of vanilla and stories. And perhaps the consistent body language and tones of the beast, Dreamer, and Lanie have made it clear that this is a safe, casual interaction.

Ish'ta's ego did show a bit at being called 'great,' giving off a proud smile and posture while laying down. Though the idea of 'friendship' was a new thing for him, giving a mixed response from the large coyote. "I can consider you ... amicable, at the very least. For now..." The way he pouted looked like he was going to follow this up with a bashful 'baka!' at the end of that. Yet he would continue, "But I'd be happy to listen, I have all the time in the world, and with a memory that never fades I can recall it all at any time. You may begin when you feel comfortable doing so." The creatures tail gently swaying a bit behind him, it was easy to tell even though he gave off an intimidating presence and aura, he was a little bit of a softie.

Lanie nods. It's a natural gesture for a human but not a dog. "Amicable is fine by me. I'll begin sharing my story once Dreamer is screened... Thank you for being willing to listen." As a psychologist, she understood that listening is a valuable gift.

"Of course." With that Ish'ta would allow them to continue their conversation, only giving a modest nod to Lanie as he'd excuse himself for the time being with out saying a word. He'd go back to the portion of this rail way that he's mostly claimed for himself and would begin to rake his claws against a portion of the tracks made for subways. It looked like he was dulling his claws for some reason or another.

With that the white fluffy Samoyed turns trots back across the space to Dreamer and Knight. She lays down on the rug a few feet away facing the androgynous woman who, in her head, she can't help but refer to as The Librarian.

The dog drops the sopping wet pen, licks her chops, and begins to pant; Dreamer gets another 'call' from Lanie.

Dreamer picks the call back up, transferring it to an earpiece so she doesn’t keep holding her phone in place. “Now for the screening I assume?”

The dog nods as the confidential chat begins. Ish'ta sees only Lanie looking at Dreamer while panting, and Dreamer setting up her earpiece for a moment before looking back at the dog. On the surface, it appears that nothing is being said between them. 

"Yes, lets begin. Feel free to ask me questions as well, including my own if you'd like--like, this is a conversation, not an interrogation." Her tail wags lightly for a moment. "Alright, lets begin. What's your goal in going on these jobs? Why do you accept them?" 

“Oh that’s… a complicated question. There are things I want to know, and things I can’t explain. I hope these jobs can bring me answers. I go on them to learn and collect data, and I wish to keep learning until I die.” She knocks on the wooden shelf.

The dog nods. "That makes sense then that you'd want a library to store your information. Is there anything specific you're hoping to know and explain that you'd like to share?"

She tilts her head, expression unchanging, and gestures with her hand at the horizon encompassing, darker than black, featureless corvid she has painted on the ceiling. It feels like in a way you would never be able to tell the difference if it was omnipotent and watching your every move, or just omnipresent and you were too small for it to even process.

“When I was young, the raven would haunt a set of reoccurring nightmares I had, but each one had a sliver of prophecy. I managed to banish it, but it started coming back, more aggressive prophecies after my cancer gained notable side effects.”

She pulls a leather-bound notebook from her pocket, begins to draw in it, and proceeds. “My theory is that there is something stuck in the fog, the threshold of worlds, that has inexplicably managed to find itself a conduit in this world; me. I want to find out the who, the what, and the why. Oh, and the how, as in how do I do it?” She gives a small smile.

Admittingly, being so close to the floor made Lanie much less aware of what was high above her. She follows Dreamer's hand motion and finally notices the art on the ceiling. Internally, she can't quite decide if being watched over by the bird is comforting or disconcerting. Then she continues to listen quietly. In the past, before the Contracts, she might have considered a raven in someone's dreams an indicator of their sub-conscious attempting to communicate with their conscious. Now, Lanie considered both that and the alternative that Dreamer suggested; someone or something from another realm could be reaching out to the woman.

"That makes sense." It did, one way or another. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for," the dog affirms. If her telepathy wasn't so limited, she might have been able to help. "What would you say your personal or, like, moral limits are on these jobs? In other words, what lines have you tried hard not to cross--regardless of whether you did or not?"

“I hate putting good people in bad positions. It goes beyond killing, such as I would never pickpocket a woman with a baby, I always go for those wearing gold, or who are too busy shouting profanities at women to notice their trucks being stolen.”

The dog nods. "I understand, that makes sense." Well, sometimes it was hard to tell who really was a good person and who really was a bad person at first glance, without any supernatural powers, but it was nice to hear that the self-proclaimed thief attempted to apply a moral lens to her 'work.' "For the next question... what is your biggest regret, like maybe something you did wrong or you didn't do but you now wish you did on one of these jobs?" With her keen subsonic hearing, Lanie listens for Dreamer's heart rate.

“I’ve… mmm… killed some people, sacrificed is the correct word, I think. I entered an agreement with him,” she nods to where the coyote slumbers “to bring him food once a month in exchange for the lives of myself, a teammate and…” she counts in her head “a little less than two dozen other sapients. The problem is, he can only draw nutrients normally through consumption of the fresh corpses of sapient beings… and I figured if I could stall and control his intake, controlled who he ate to the sleaziest fuckers around, I would be doing good in the world until I could find a more permanent solution. That’s two deaths that I feel bad about, but ultimately was the lowest I could manage under the circumstances." She seems rather upset by this, but is being completely honest about it, but does that even matter to the dog gauging the purity of her heart?

Lanie perks up, looking visibly surprised. 'I've killed some people' felt like quite a contrast with 'it goes beyond killing'. "That sounds like a difficult situation," she replies as her ears go back for a moment and with no hint of judgement in her voice--only empathy and professional neutrality. Two deaths over how long of a period of time? And how many more would there be? But those questions weren't nearly as important as this one: "How do you know, like, who the 'sleaziest fuckers' are?"

“Well, I’m not going to act like I could wheel in a couple billionaires to the middle of nowhere to feed them to a two-story coyote. But I have my ways. Truckers were the mark of choice, due to the nature of the location. Then it was process of elimination when it came to casing them, checking for Sons stickers, getting into their trucks while they were off in the bathroom, checking for anything that could help make the decision.”

She pauses for a moment, steadying her breath before continuing. “Started with their phones, not too many were actively locked. Looked at contacts and recent calls to check for family or people who would miss them. Then a thorough search of the cabins. When you find trophies, such as, say, a bag of IDs from women less than thirty, some bloodied, I know I have my mark. I don’t like doing it. But I can be good at it if I need to. It’s like… are you familiar with the trolley problem?”

"Very," Lanie answers, even tone never changing. To some Dreamer would be considered a hero; to others, a serial killer. Would Lanie have done the same in her shoes? Probably, if Bu Fang couldn't magically manifest something that could sustain the creature. "I have just one more question related to this topic--thank you for sharing." One more she is willing to ask, that is. "Do you bring Ish'ta to them or do you bring them to him here?"

“Ah see, I didn’t clarify well enough. My days of luring truckers to Ish’ta are done. I figured out, after the sacrifices, how to weave dreams into items to the point where any food consumed in the dreams will actually sustain you. After I managed that, I offered a new deal to him; the quilt, and a place to stay, free of hunters and full of stories and people to meet, and in exchange I get his help, and his company.”

Ish'ta looked to be resting, eyes closed, body relaxed, like he was sleeping or just enjoying a nice nap as per usual. He was like a big cat, and only active when he felt like it- however in this case he wasn't fully sleeping, and as they were silent for a while, he wondered why everything was so quiet. He had great hearing, supernaturally so, and it almost made him worried that something was going on, after all he could hear the few patrons upstairs, the birds outside, a gentle wind chime, even the light breathing Jessie and Lanie had as well as her companions. But he disregarded it soon after and just laid there like nothing was the matter.

Lanie sighs in visible relief. Her tail thumps on the carpet a bit. "Excellent. I'm glad to hear that his needs are being met and that you're no longer in a situation where you have to do that." She had been considering something rather dark, helping the endeavor in a small way if she could stomach it, but such thoughts were now irrelevant. "About how many of these jobs, these 'missions,' have you been on, and what do you think about your coworkers?"

After skimming the nearby selection and re-taking her seat, Sierra seems to be engrossed in a book on the history of drugs and alcohol in occult remedies. She hasn't looked up in a while, perhaps trusting that if some dognapper randomly showed up they'd have bitten off much more than they could chew. Knight finally lays down, harness still on. Noticing his shift in position, Lanie's eyes glow silver and the harness also glows a faint silver as straps and buckles (both seen and unseen) are undone and then the harness floats off. It is set down a few feet away so that the black dog can be more comfortable. In response, Knight does a full body shake and then settles down on the floor beside his new master.

“That’s the question isn’t it. They’ve ranged from extremely competent to active liabilities. In fact, out of the seven jobs I was given, I had to bail on two of them due to lack of backup, either because my teammates died or were arrested. And that’s not counting the number of which I kept going while down part of my team. The third one I failed at was a combination of my incompetence and that of the person giving us the details. She gave us a vague objective, so I stole the thing I saw that closely matched 'you will know it when I see it' without looking for anything else that it could be. Frustrating.”

As Dreamer describes her Contracting struggles, she hears soft affirming mhm. Lanie is familiar with the taste of failed jobs due to her teammates and her own mistakes. "But you survived each time, and you're still going at it in pursuit of your ambition. You're tenacious, Dreamer."

"Last question now. Is there anything else you think I should know about you? For example, do you know if you're wanted or Illuminated? Is there something you'd always want your teammates to know at the start of a job--or maybe just your inner circle of friends?"

“Not wanted, not Illuminated. For now. I plan on pulling a bit of a Carmen San Diego down the road but for now I’m on the low down. Aside from the narcolepsy, the pseudonym, and the Library, I guess there’s really two things.”

She pulls the tape recorder from her pocket. “One: I’m always recording while on the job. I’ll give you the option to opt your name out of them, but the records are important. Two: I’m always available to steal something from anyone who needs it. For a price of course, though things that I deem… necessary, will be cheaper for the person hiring me. I’ll make the difference elsewhere.”

Lanie nods again. "Big plans then," she replies to the Carmen San Diego bit. She can't help but sniff in the direction of the tape recorder. That's not a smell she comes across often. "I'm glad you have a way to keep the records safe." She glances at the resting coyote. "Many Contractors I've met highly value their privacy, like the one you struck a deal with through me." Abbas, Dominic, Bu, and herself until recently.

"I've asked a lot of questions... do you have any for me? As I said before, this can be a conversation--although you having questions isn't at all required."

“Yes, I have several. But I know where to start. Before you stepped into my library, you knew very little of me. Fair to say, the only thing you knew about me was the fact I was a narcoleptic sneak thief, who happened to own a library. And yet, after the job was said and done, you bartered on my behalf for a dog such as this, and are currently trying to recruit me into your network. I want to know why. Why do you wish to recruit me? At the very least, what were your intentions in doing so before you had gotten down here?”

The dog says simply, "Because our odds of surviving and, beyond that, thriving increase if we form an alliance." There's a pause as Lanie shuts her eyes to focus on organizing her thoughts before looking back at Dreamer again. "I didn't smell blood on you or bleach to remove any evidence of blood. You didn't seem pleased by what happened to those conference attendees." She doesn't remember that gory scene anymore thanks to a friend's help, but she remembers the aftermath. "You did your best that day with the rest of us. That being said, on the job I didn't get the impression of you being malicious--a threat to the general public or a threat to your coworkers without, like, having a good reason. And so, to me that means you're worth helping--and hopefully I am too if a situation comes up where I might need some help. And it means you're worth getting to know a little better, to see how accurate my first impressions were."

“So this comes entirely from a pack mentality, excuse my choice of language. Satisfactory nonetheless.” She sounds a little disappointed, but also relieved at this revelation. “Second question then. What are the current largest efforts of this organization. Is it just a mutual assurance pact, or are things running in the works?”

The dog doesn't seem to mind Dreamer's wording. Her use of the phrase isn't scientifically accurate, but the psychologist understood what the woman is getting at. "There are no large efforts, and it’s not an organization per se. It's more like ... a bicycle wheel with me at the center, making the connections between two people--one offering something and the other wanting it. Sometimes those connections pass through me so that people can maintain anonymity with each other, or sometimes they are both willing to connect with each other directly. The only rules are to make good on whatever you promised and to not betray the other Network members, including myself. That includes backstabbing on the job and turning others in to the authorities without just cause--something I'd have to look into directly as the line there can get blurry. Otherwise... members get out of it what they want and put in what they want with no obligations--while maintaining their privacy if they desire."

“Then three for three, to make the trade complete. I would like permission to search for in the dreamscape. It will just give me a basic overview, your sleep, nightmares, goals, ambitions. Things your dreams would tell me.”

Lanie perks up at the proposal. "Would you be able to find information on the Network members in the dreamscape? Or the details on my family?"

“No, it only works where I can touch. Though I can perform long range reconnaissance on anyone if I know where they slept, or have something they slept with. Though if you’re familiar enough with me, you’ll know you’re being spied on. There’s a tell.”

"Right. Hm," Lanie ponders for a moment. This wouldn't be the first time someone had delved into her mind with her permission--more like the third. Concerning the other thing that Dreamer could do, it felt similar Dominic's pen except it was attached to a person and not an object. And that difference is advantageous. "Sure, you can search for me in the dreamscape. Also, if you're willing, I have a favor to ask of you related to the reconnaissance..."

“Of course. Ask away.” Dreamer says, looking the dog up and down. Her voice, her scent, her face. Her eyes mist over, and Knight seems to perk up but the episode is over in a number of seconds. “I have more questions once you do.”

"I'd like you to spy on me on my request, like, only once, and then pass whatever you learn on to someone I choose. And I'd prefer you share what your 'tell' is so that I'll know you're only spying on me when I've asked you to..." Her ears go down as she's less sure about Dreamer agreeing to the second part.

“And the point of this plan?”

"Reconnaissance for if I get kid--dognapped. It would be helpful to those who'd be working on my extraction."

“Reasonable way to use the ability. Then I accept this request. And the tell is a dark corvid following you. Flies in from one shadow, out the other.”

Lanie nods, ears perking back up and tail thumping briefly. "Thank you." Now she needed to find the right friend for Dreamer to contact, but that could be done later. "What questions do you have?"

“Why can’t you let your hostage free?”

The dog blinks, looking blankly at the woman. That wasn't exactly a goal or ambition--more like a secret. Well, maybe a goal. It did bother her, so perhaps it showed up in her dreamscape. Lanie looks away as she heaves a sigh. "Would you like a concise explanation or a more detailed one?"

“Details tend to be preferred in my line of work.”

"Wumbratainment, or 'Wumbra' for short, is a near-perfect copy of a powerful Contractor--one of us. She is one of many copies that were made over the years as the not-at-all accidental byproduct of a specific job that various teams of Contractors had been sent on. Most killed their clones right after the job ended--which I think is horrible--and some clones killed their originals--also horrible." The news images of Lanie's teammate's mangled bodies briefly distract her as her gaze wanders off.

But then she returns her attention to the Librarian. "Wumbra survived. Realizing the pattern, she proceeded to collect other surviving clones and form am organization dedicated to..." to what? "... uniting and 'liberating' everyone who shared her origin story--so long as they had usefulness to her." Unlike Mel.

"This group was on the down low, staying relatively hidden and slowly gaining members, for a long while... However, my friends and I discovered them when we started tracking down a young girl who had been inexplicably kidnapped from police custody at a police station. This girl was a clone, which is why Wumbra targeted her--and they took her by force against her will. My friends and I ..."

Lanie pauses, trying to cut out the details that she didn't need to share to make the story cohesive yet still accurate. Minerva's privacy would be protected. "... uh, we tracked down the kidnappers to one of their hideouts--but ..." This is the part where Lanie expected to lose Dreamer, if she hadn't lost her already, "... there we rescued the living body of the cloned girl containing the spirit of the group's leader. They, like, got body swapped using a supernatural object." Lanie's voice coming through Dreamer's earbuds goes quiet for a moment as the dog, all this while, continues panting. She catches her breath.

"So, we end up accidentally taking home a girl with the spirit of the clone group's ring leader. After several rounds of, um, forced therapy--because her mind was in complete shambles long before we got her--Wumbra shared her intentions of tirelessly continuing to unite the clones, like, in opposition with their originals--even if it meant future kidnappings of children. Which is something I could not permit. One of my friends wanted to..." the dog's fur bristles up as her ears go flat "... contain her indefinitely under highly inhumane conditions but I offered to Wumbra to instead live with me with greater freedom but under constant supervision--to ensure she wasn't going back to her original task. And she accepted my offer."

"But, to be honest, I don't enjoy living with her and containing her like that. I just don't know what else to do..." Memory wiping might be a solution, now that Lanie is thinking about it from beginning to end. But that felt even less moral than allowing Wumbra to make a (forced) choice of her own free will and in her right mind.

“Sounds like an extremely complex set of circumstances you’ve wound up in. If there is anything I can do to assist, let me know. I don’t know much about much of what you’ve discussed, but, if there’s any resource I have that you need, let me know.”

Lanie visibly relaxes upon seeing and hearing Dreamer's reaction. "Thank you--no, it's settled now thankfully. The missing child was retrieved and is now living as a sister to her original, and Wumbra... is just a horrible roommate, basically." At the moment, the pomski and the two bloodhounds are being watched by dog sitters. But how is the robot sniper doing? Did Lanie really want to know? ... No, no she did not. "But, uh, I seem to have a knack for getting involved in other people's business and helping out where I can ... with their permission of course."

“Relax. I’m a white hat thief, getting involved and helping out, with or without permission is in the job description. I just need to figure out my big score.” She taps her chin a few times, thinking, mulling something over in her mind.

Feeling heard and understood, Lanie waits patiently (as her tail wags some more). Two more things come to her mind as well, but she sets them aside to prioritize wherever Dreamer might want the conversation to go next.

“No, no, go ahead. Just stumped on something. Proceed.”

"Alright... you're now a member of the Network." While Lanie says this with a tone of neutral professionalism, her wagging tail and the glimmer in her dark eyes give away her excitement. "About once a month I'll check in with you and see if you need anything or want to change what you're offering to others. In terms of offers, I'm assuming it's the same services and goods you offered to my friend in exchange for the food and Knight? Oh, on that note, may I have the jacket?"

She pulls out the Chef’s Coat, which, on first glance, seems a little… too plain. But upon closer inspection, the interior is lined with some kind of silk, and the stitching… it’s hard to notice with white on white, but you notice patterns of small birds everywhere on this coat. The tag simply says “Carrion Outfitters”, “wash cold only” and “40% cotton, 20% silk, 24% polyester”.

The neatly folded coat glows silver as Lanie telekinetically picks it up and then walks alongside it, taking it over to Sierra. The bodyguard sets her book aside to grab the nearby thing out of the air, roll it up even more, and then stuff it into her backpack. If it wasn't wrinkled before, it might be now.

The dog trots back to Dreamer. "Thanks. I'm sure my chef friend will put it to good use." A pause. "I have some things I could trade for clothing like this now--and possibly the other type of clothing, the one that nourishes in one's dreams," the voice chuckles, "if we, like, could decide on an article of clothing that, uh, makes sense..." Her voice gets quieter and more serious. "There's some conditions attached to the things though--requests from me, I mean. The first thing I have to offer is a highly compact, totally silent sniper rifle--like, both the shot and the impact are silent. The condition there is that if firing on someone who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, like a guard who's just doing their job, you don't aim to kill--which means you should be decently trained in firearms first. As I know you don't cherish the thought of killing, I'd trust you with it, and the small size might be helpful given your inclinations for stealth. The second item is... well, let’s start with the first. Does the rifle interest you at all?"

On one paw she wanted to keep Shadow Killer forever, but she couldn't nail down a logical reason to. Because she can? That wasn't good enough. Jason regretted his past and was no longer accepting the jobs; he was the last person she'd give it to. Abbas was at a minimum emotionally unstable and for some unknown reason preferred a bow and arrows over modern weapons to take down supernatural beasts. Dominic might have gotten it (she knew he had the training and the non-killer inclination to use it properly), but his firearm needs were met after the Minerva-Mars ordeal. And Lanie certainly couldn't use it. In the hands of someone she trusted, when used with precision, it could prevent a loss of life. So long as...

"Also, I'd request that you not pass it off to anyone else." Also not in Lanie's control, but she is doing the best she can.

“On one hand any situation that needs it will instantly be solved. On the other hand, a situation where I need to kill a man from a mile away and where I will know exactly where he will be in order to set up properly would be… well it would be rare. Especially when my skill with guns isn’t very high to begin with.”

“However, if you aren’t using it and figure it could be of better use elsewhere, we could put it into The Library’s collection and loan it out to the people who need it.”

"Oh?" That's a surprising option. "What is your vision for the Library?"

“My vision? One to two dozen people in here at a time. Some roaming the stacks looking for valuable info, building plans, weaknesses for their monster of the week, the quickest land transport route from Mexico City to Argentina. A few of them are in dotted pairs, swapping whatever scraps of info gathered that could help the other. Some people in here to get the right tool for the job they’re about to undertake. One sharing stories with the coyote. And at the center of it all, you have me, orchestrating different counter moves, filing data, moving tools in and out. Providing a safe haven for those who want to do good in the world under the guise of the shadows.” She then relaxes herself, seeming slightly embarrassed about her rambling manifesto.

Lanie nods. She could envision herself here as a part of that two-dozen crowd, probably chatting with the coyote and watching the rest, looking for future Network members. "It sounds like we both want to bring people together, just in different ways," she affirms. "How will you know that the visitors will keep this space secret? And how will you know that something borrowed will be returned--and used responsibly?"

“I have lawyers. Magic lawyers. They can ensure my things are returned to me. And the secrecy of the space will be enforced by several systems; the cards, Ish’ta, the presence of other contractors, the info I have on everyone. It’s mostly a sort of “well what were you doing at the sacrament” type of thing. Mutually assured destruction.”

Magic lawyers... Lanie shouldn't be surprised. Sounds expensive though. "That makes sense--I'm glad you've thought it through. What's available for rent at the moment?"

“Well currently we have a gun owned by a priest, which has all kinds of features, such as shapeshifting, fighting off demons, and better mob control, but it’s extremely obvious and tends to bring out your more “religious” side. We used to have the pair of gloves that I used the job with you, but they’re in possession of another member at the moment. And, finally, I’m going to add another blanket of shadows, same properties of the chef cloak, once I’ve collected the materials to do so.”

"Sounds like you're getting started then." Lanie takes a moment to scratch her neck with a hind leg before continuing. "I think I have several things to donate to the Library so long as they're loaned out under specific conditions... but I doubt there'll ever be anything for me to borrow. Having four paws and a non-human shape has its limitations." The blanket might be usable, but it’s not like the dog could travel on a job carrying a blanket (just carrying a book for a few minutes was a challenge).

“This is why I do take custom orders. I’m thinking maybe a harness for you if you’d wish. But donations are more than welcome I assure you, and I will ensure that your conditions are met when they are loaned out.”

The dog is very pleased. "Oh, okay, yes, that's a good idea! Here are the things I had in mind to donate: the sniper rifle with the condition that it isn't used to kill people, a two-foot-long ivory rod that pins down whatever's under it into place without crushing it (although the rod itself isn't indestructible), and ... like, three overtly magical bracelets that help you do a whole pile of things--run away from danger, summon a helper, and wield a compactible sword." She pauses, pondering for a moment. "But they should only be used for self-defense, to directly help one's friends or family, or to help the family of the person who made the bracelets." Those conditions aren't foolproof if, say, someone was helping their friends commit murder, but it sort of worked.

“Those are all great. And don’t worry, my library is very secure. Would you like anything in return for all of your donations here?”

Lanie glances at the sleeping coyote. Secure indeed. Even Sierra and Knight seem to have dozed off at this point (it had been a long two-day drive for the bodyguard). "Yes, a dog harness that lets me move quickly but stealthily, like the coat you made. And, if you think it's a worthwhile trade for all of the donations, something else dog clothing-related--maybe the same harness?" Lanie isn't sure if it has to be separate or can be layered "--that allows me to be fed through my dreams."

“I can do both in the same harness.”

"Perfect. We have a deal." With that, the dog stops panting. And proceeds to hurk hack COUGH, the noise waking up Sierra and Knight. Out of Lanie's contracting body and muzzle, covered in saliva and other fluids, comes a small black sniper keychain, landing on the carpet with a soft thud beside the now dry metal pen. Lanie looks at the item that just seemed to have emerged from her stomach blankly for a moment and then up at Dreamer sheepishly, tail down and ears back. "... Er, sorry," she says quietly over the earbuds, looking away. What is extremely functional for her is rather lacking in social gracefulness.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy to clean. Don’t get too worked up over it.” She gently pats Lanie on the head.

The words and the pats instill total peace in the white fluffy dog. "Okay, thanks Dreamer." She moves closer and leans into the seated woman, silently asking for scratches--panting all the while. "Sierra has one bracelet and the ivory rod, which I've named the 'stay stick'. And I'll bring you the other two bracelets in about a week. How long will it take to make the harness?"

“About a week, I should gather enough quills at that point.”

"Quills?" She looks up, head tilted to the side. "Like, raven feathers?"

“Kinda. Occasionally, when I wake up, I’ll find a clear feather, on my face usually. I separate the barbs from it and use them to lace the clothes with patterns. That’s what makes them special.”

"Interesting." It certainly seems like something from somewhere else is trying to get Dreamer's attention. "Oh, I almost forgot, is there anything that you want or need from the Network at the moment?"

“It’s not urgent… but The Library is always accepting patrons and donations. Also, if you know anyone who has some… useful tools for my line of work, do let me know.”

"Not tools, no...." Jason Valent's tool for hacking came to her mind, but she hadn't been able to reach him lately. "... but have you considered getting physical or mental alterations--enhancements, I mean--to make you inherently better at your line of work? These kinds of changes can be invisible; I have several myself."

“That would be useful, no denying that. Though what I wouldn’t give for a nifty little grappling hook, smoke bombs, little laser cutter hidden in a tube of lipstick. Regardless, such alterations would come at a steep price I assume?”

Lanie chuckles at the list of items Dreamer years for. "That's for you and the other Member to decide. By the nature of this being a service, I can't be the go-between for you two once a deal is made; you'll need to meet in person at some point. That being said, would you like me to be the middleman--" middledog? "--while you two haggle or just see if they'd like to just call you directly?"

“That would work, or they can always visit me in The Library.”

"Okay, let me reach out--oh, and can you ask Sierra to pour me some water?" All that panting is giving Lanie a dry mouth. The dog then shuts her eyes...

“Sierra, Lanie asked if you could please pour her some water.” Dreamer says aloud as she crosses her legs on the couch.

"Sure." Sierra hops up. She digs a reusable water bottle and collapsible fabric bowl out of the backpack, serving a drink to Lanie, who doesn't react or respond.

Full of Dog (continued)

The middle of a telepathic call between Nathan and Lanie:

"What time will the meeting day be and perhaps more importantly, what types of augments would they like?" Nathan would prefer to know ahead of time. 

"You can pick the time. Let me check with the Member--well, they wouldn't know what's possible... what IS possible?"

"Fair. Well, it's always difficult to explain this part without revealing too much that I don't want to. It's mostly up to specification and honestly quite open, but it boils down to minor powers, at least that's how I would put it. You want to be able to breath fire? Jump higher? See clearer? Write with your fingers, create smoke, the sky's the limit. If the sky is a relatively high ceiling. Should they have any remnants of more curious entities, I could also potentially work with that to give them better results. Oh, and please do warn them that they'll potentially see perturbing images in mirrors after the process but that's nothing to worry about. Is that satisfactory?"

"It is. I'll do my best to pass that on."

"Thanks, really appreciate it."

"Of course. Thank you for the alliance."

---

After about a minute, Dreamer gets another call. "They're willing to come over, but they'd like to know if you have an idea of what you'd like. Think 'get better at something specific' or 'minor superpowers' like fingernails that cut like knives or creating smoke out of the palm of your hand. "Also, apparently the remains of another creature--preferably a supernatural one--can be used in the process to perform even more powerful alterations." Lanie glances once more at the coyote. Does fur count?

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

"If you didn't have any particular alterations in mind, you can think it over and I'll call you back in a few days." A pause. "Oh, last last thing." This was so much easier to do and keep track of when she had her notepad. "As a Member, you have free access to my mental health services, which can be performed remotely and only take about eight hours. During our check-in calls, I'll ask you how you're feeling and if anything's been bothering you, although I can also do a sort of check-up if you're not sure." Another pause. "Well, I guess that wasn't the last last thing." Lanie moves over to Knight and sniffs his face a little as a greeting. "Would you prefer I complete the training with you and Knight or would you mind if I sent someone else?"

“I would prefer you, so we have less breaches.”

It is at this point that Lanie realizes Dreamer lives in the Library; she doesn't just hang out here. "Makes sense." With that the dogtor yawns, showing off sharp pearly teeth. "I guess we'll rest up at the hotel and come back tomorrow then. It's been good day, but also a long one." The dog stops panting and proceeds to lap up every drop of water in the bowl to the point that Sierra comes over and refills it unprompted. Lanie wags her tail with thankfulness and drinks even more before picking up the pen with her dripping wet muzzle. Now speaking out of the collar, she says, "Sierra, please give Dreamer the stay stick and the friendship bracelet. We're heading to the hotel and we'll come back tomorrow. We're staying for at least a week, maybe more depending on Knight's progress." Sierra hands over both items to Dreamer while Lanie moves over to Ish'ta, seeing if he might be awake. When Dreamer touches the friendship bracelet made of plastic beads, intertwined stretchy material, and several charms (a small metal sword, a heart, and a horse), she can feel it starting to influence her mind...

There was what Lanie had in mind to say. Something about being tired, too tired to talk a bunch more today due to all of the talking she had just done and the travel, and her intentions to share the first part of her story with Ish'ta tomorrow. And then there was what she actually said as she looks at this huge canine that so kindly is at eye-level with her. "Can I, like, take a nap with you?" As soon as the words come out through the speaker on her collar, metal pen in mouth, she swallows. Her curly tail tucks under her and her ears droop down, meek as ever.

Sierra, now standing with her backpack on and the empty luggage container in tow, raises both eyebrows at the bold proposition. Knight is as relaxed and oblivious as ever.

Ish'ta would perk up at the request, seeing her fatigue and the look in her eyes normally wouldn't let him fulfill a request like this without getting something in return. However, she seemed nice, and even if he was a canine like herself, she had an almost human charm to her as he looked at humans the way that humans looked at puppies. He could tell others were looking at him and so he mentally began to justify it, "She did request friendship for her stories, this...wasn't apart of said deal, however...ugh..." So, without much hesitation he said openly, "Yes, you may." Raising a paw, and moving the blanket up so that she could fit inside of there with him. He was warm, and his fur was well groomed, almost as soft as many silks due to the occasional work of Jessie that is.

Once she was comfortable, he wouldn't say anything, but slightly laying on his side he'd ensure that she could move around and take as much time as she wished to relax. The Coyote not at all appearing concerned or feeling obtuse about it, after all he didn't have the standard human customs and curtsies, only enough to know what was correct or fine to do in pleasant company. Besides, even if he wouldn't openly say that he may have been charmed for a brief moment, it showed that he had a fairly drastic change of heart for some reason or another. "Rest as much as you wish, Lanie. You do not have to worry about disturbing me." He'd say before closing his eyes, his large rhythmic heart beat felt both nice and soothing.

Lanie's request being fulfilled is perhaps more embarrassing than the request itself. The coyote can likely sense the dog's rapid heartbeat which, based on her body language, is probably more nervousness and embarrassment than the flutters of love. It's too late to back out now, she thinks as she quietly replies, "T-thanks," and then slips under the raised quilt and sets down the pen. For her part, Lanie is a clean, well-groomed, forever shedding, white puffy cloud shaped like a dog wearing a mostly buried black collar. Ish'ta also likely picks up on the glint of silver and the jingle of metal coming from her collar as she approaches. It is a plain silver ring affixed to her collar where the dog tag should be. She also faintly smells like several more dogs other than Knight--four in total.

The second bit Ish'ta says to Lanie as she settles down seems to calm her a bit more, but it takes several minutes (of intentionally slow, meditative breathing) before she seems to fully relax. Being a dog that has a temperature rating for basically Antarctica, it is a bit warm to be under the blanket with another mammal but also... the coyote's steady heartbeat is incredibly comforting to hear and feel, and to be so safe--it reminds her of when she stayed at another friend’s house several months ago. What could get to her here? It doesn't take long before the tired, overheated dog curled up with her back against the chest of the mythological creature falls asleep.

Sierra watches her employer disappear under the blanket, her surprise being replaced by mild amusement. She turns to Sierra and says simply, "Guess I'll be back whenever. Nice meeting you." She heads to the elevator with the bags, raising a hand to slightly wave goodbye with her back to Dreamer. The elevator doors close, and the Librarian is alone with three dogs.

-------

Fresh Blood

Later that day, after waking up from the nap, Lanie tells Dreamer that she remembered one of her Network members has been infected with vampirism. "Do you think your clothing can sustain him? It's blood, but its also, like, food?"

“It never hurts to try.”

"Well, I don't want you to make something tailored for him that then doesn't work, unless, like, you have a spare blanket... He's pretty desperate, and to be honest so am I after I realized he was feeding off of people--without killing them--and not getting fresh blood via bags from a doctor we both know. All he has to offer to trade, though, is some liquid that removes all poisons and diseases. Drinking it means it isn't reusable though."

“They can always try with mine before I go and make a new one.”

"Okay."

“And information is valuable too, don’t forget.”

"Ah, yes. Thank you for the reminder. He is actually quite knowledgeable on the occult stuff. I think you'd enjoy chatting with him. Let me see when he's free..."

-------

Trouble

A call to Theo a few hours after they discussed more sustainable feeding solutions.

"Actually, I might be able to coordinate the curing of your vampirism," Lanie says. "It's risky though, so we should only look into it if we can't keep you fed supernaturally." 

"I'm onboard, whatever the plan is. This whole thing has been nothing but trouble."

"I understand. According to a monster hunter I consulted, vampires only die if they are beheaded and then burned to dust. If your vampirism is a curse, it's possible to do all those things and then immediately resurrect you--bringing you back but not the curse back. I know someone who, uh, would be comfortable beheading and also someone who can resurrect, although I'll need to check in with him on the limits of his ability. And I might know someone can can burn you thoroughly and rapidly enough--oh, and you would be knocked out for the whole procedure so you won't feel anything."

"That sounds - well, it doesn't sound great for me, honestly, but if you have a crew who can manage it, I'm willing to take the plunge."

"Having gone through a similar experience for a different curse, I will say, it is not pleasant." She pauses. "Terry's services, if he can do what I'm hoping he can do since your ceremony is a bit different, will be expensive, but I'm willing to help you cover the costs. In other words, you sort of have two options. Which one do you want to pursue first: satisfying you need for blood or removing the issue entirely which involves more risks?" 

"I'd like to look into getting something to deal with the drawbacks first, but if you can't find anything, I'm willing to go through the process of getting the issue removed. You know what I have to offer, and what services I can provide, I trust you to help settle a way for me to pay back whatever option we go with."

"Sounds wise. Yeah, I know what you have, don't worry. That's why I said I can pitch in. We'll figure this out." 

"Thanks, Lanie. Dunno what I'd do without you."

Lanie chuckles. "Keep being a monkey maybe?" Her tone becomes more serious. "We're in this together."

Theo matches Lanie's tone from his end of the line "Together. Let me know if you need anything, or if you need me for any part of the deals you're looking into, I'll be available." 

"I will. Talk to you soon."

-------

Light on the Wasabi

On the second day of the Library visit, Lanie passes on to Nathan that this Network member essentially wants to be able to cut glass without breaking it, some way to store items on themselves in a way that is discreet, and to be able to move more quickly.

"Understood, I'll prepare that."

She also passes on that the Member would like to meet him at [this specific library] in Houston, Texas. "I'll be there for the next five days taking care of other business... you can stay in the same hotel nearby if you want--where I'm staying."

"Erm, I suppose that works. I'll try to arrive there as soon as possible. Feel free to stay if the Network member feels comfortable with that. By the way, would you mind giving me an idea what they may have for exchange for my services?"

"They're collecting supernatural items that they then loan out using, I believe, supernaturally enforces contracts--ensuring the item is returned and not used improperly. I've just made a hefty donation, so if you connect with them you'll have access to borrowing those things. They can also create fabrics or clothing that allows you to stealth without compromising your speed. And clothing that allows you to be fully nourished, not needing to eat or drink, through your dreams. They also have offered their services as a skilled thief and a spy."

"Just borrowing, or do you know if they're willing to possible do trade?"

"They are willing to trade the clothing. For my hefty donation, I got an article of clothing--er, a dog harness."

"Got it. I'll be making my way then, see you soon!"

Perhaps sooner than they thought, because the dog calls him back just a few minutes later and asks if Nathan knows anyone who can create temporary disguises--like ones that can be switched on and off (not permanent alterations). She also adds that, unfortunately, there are no leftover scraps to give him from the tigrex armor being modified to fit a dog.

"Define, 'can be switched on and off' a bit further please," Nathan asks.

"My friend wants to be disguised when she's outside of her home and normal when she's inside of her home."

"I'll check but not off the top of my head, so I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Right. I know it's pretty specific. Thanks."

"I don't think I know anyone who can grant toggleable disguises to an individual, or at least anyone who has demonstrated that capability to me as of yet. I'll keeping looking, but I think I'm a dead end."

"No worries. I appreciate it!" She really did, and she wasn't surprised it was a dead end. So far it had been dead ends all around. "Like, what were you planning on doing with the armor scraps?"

"Well, it really depended on the quantity to be honest. If it was a lot, I could've potentially fashioned something for me, otherwise it is the remains of quite a curious creature from what I heard from you. I do already have a way to increase the durability of beings and it may not even do anything due to that but it's always nice to be able to test things out to confirm if anything special would occur.  Otherwise, being able to protect any dogs I bring to a potentially more dangerous scenario would always be appreciated. Worst case scenario, I could always sell it, eh, since it was part of the exchange."

"At least that was the thought process I had during our previous conversation, that was, what, wow months ago."

"... You bring dogs on these jobs?"

"No? I would never. Well not actually dogs, more like flies turned into dogs that are, still mentally and spiritually, flies. Why? I guess I did word that quite poorly given the lack of context."

Now Lanie sounds intrigued. "You turn flies into dogs?"

"Well, I guess that cat's out of the bag. Indeed, I do turn flies into dogs. And bears. And sometimes butterflies, which are not flies and belong to a different order called Lepidoptera, whereas flies belong to the order Diptera.... Uh, anyways yes, I do turn flies into less unthreatening or niche animals for jobs."

"Interesting... I suppose you can control them, otherwise they would fly--uh, run off at the slightest smell of food or flowers or something? Also, are your transformations permanent?"

"For you first inquiry, yes. I try not to consider the moral implications for more sapient beings, I sort of hope I can't exude control over them sometimes, but I have a feeling I may be disappointed. More because of the other implications with the two capabilities combined with each other. For now? No, but I'm working towards that, a lot less work for me that way. Might even reach a breakthrough soon, heh. I can manually vaguely undo them, but I won't get into that ordeal. Gotta keep some things more personal."

"Sure. Sorry if I got carried away--I've been looking for someone who can do more permanent transformations, so let me know if you manage to reach that point."

"Concerning controlling animals ... I doubt it'll come up, but I wanted to make it clear proactively that if I feel you attempting to control me in any way, I will promptly bite you and then remove you from the Network." Assuming he fails of course. "Nothing personal though; it just came up recently with a non-Member coworker."

There's a pause. "What happened?"

Nathan hears Lanie snort in annoyance before she replies, "Someone tried to control my mind, someone who can control animals." While a whole group of Contractors was warning him not to, she thinks to herself. And then he claimed he was ignorant.

"Have you had that dealt with? Do you require any help with that situation?" Nathan sounds disquieted with that revelation.

She sighs. "They won't be interacting with me in-person again if I can help it..." Not after their last chat when he brazenly asked for samples of her brain and her future puppies. "... but, like, thank you for offering. I really appreciate it."

"To quell any worry you may have about me manipulating you, I would rather have my limbs teared off than puppet someone guiltless. It's just not right. It can't be right." Unless it's for their own good? He doesn't know what he'll do at that point. "Even if that happened outside of my control, I would never leverage it." Nathan hopes he'll never meet anyone terrible enough that'll make him want to. He really does.

"I feel the same way when it comes to patient treatment," Lanie replies with gravity. "If there's any possibility that they can consent to my therapy on their own, then I will only treat them if they agree to it. I hold personal agency in high regard, and I'm glad you do too." Was the conversation off track? Or would there have to be a track for it to be off of it? "Anyway, uh, I think being vulnerable to that sort of thing just comes with being in this form--and I'm not against bringing dogs on these jobs so long as the person is willing to do what it takes to protect them and care for them if they get injured--so long as they aren't disposable ..." Fly-dogs? That felt off but not horrible. She falters forward. "... So, uh, I'm sorry--thanks for answering my questions, I mean..." Lanie suddenly chuckles as she adds with a lighter tone, "It's, like, probably an understatement to say that I care about dogs..."

"No, I agree. The more power we get, the more responsibility we should have to use it right. I personally don't have any right to alter a person without their consent but neither do they. If it comes to another person's life, then a temporary incapacitation or perhaps more may have to be implemented. Even with flies, or any animals I bring, I don't consider them disposable honestly. Nothing is, at least nothing is born disposable. It's just an extra precaution I suppose since I have the option. Don't worry about the questions, I can get the concern. That's why I talked about the armor ... By the way, why did you ask about the permanent transformation?"

"Uh, it's a really long story, but since we're being transparent... I have in my custody--at my home at the moment, not literally with me--someone who sincerely wants to continue leading, like, basically a terrorist organization. And she made it very clear that the moment she goes free she's going to go back to doing what she was doing. I couldn't allow that because it meant she'd, uh, be plotting murders and kidnappings." The dog pauses to take a breath. "A friend of mine wanted to keep her in a ca--uh, containment in their basement indefinitely, but that felt really really inhumane. So, I offered her another form of prison..." Lanie sighs again. "... living with me, in my house, as a roommate and, like, a fellow dog." Did she need to explain the rest? Better to be extremely clear. "Because then she can have her own room and go outside and eat steak and watch tv and live a decent life despite being under constant supervision... but remain trapped because she cannot work the doorknobs. And, uh, she chose that over the basement. But I only know people who can do temporary transformations, so they keep coming by each month to, like, reset it--and it's sort of a logistical pain to maintain."

"Oh. That's understandable, I'll see what I can do! And, could that situation have any correlation with your recent escapades that have found themselves worming their way into the internet?"

"Nathan, I really don't enjoy living with her. Do you want a pom--uh, no--wait, which escapades?" It had been a long Downtime.

"Wait, you want me to tak--Okay one conversation at a time. You want me to have a what?"

"Well, I was mostly joking. She doesn't seem to like living with me, but, then again, I'm the one who caught her, and it's also a full house with my bodyguard, my two actual dogs, and her. You seem to have an appreciation and respect for animals, and you could keep her transformed, like, as a pomski or some other small breed--easier to contain that way, although if you go too small, she might be able to slip out of the house easier... Maybe if we let her choose, she'd be less of a terror--but then that sort of makes any half-Pomeranian breed the perfect choice given her personality..." The dogtor says all of this in all seriousness and with some tiredness.

"Or... We could offer her more leeway but uh, enforced compliance to assure us more? Obviously I don't have nearly as good a grasp of the situation as you do."

"I suppose enforced compliance isn't so bad if she consents to it beforehand in exchange for more freedom..." The idea seems to give the dogtor some energy. Both captor and captive have not enjoyed the current setup. "I'll offer it to her when we get home--wait, compliance to me or compliance to you? Did you want a dog? No pressure, I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

"I'd like to see what I'm working with first, uh, if you don't mind. No irresponsible accepting from me yet."

"And this is why I think you'd be a good fit," she replies with a clear smile in her tone. "Sure, I'll have you over at some point when we're both done at the library. I used to keep private where I lived, but that'll all change soon anyways."

"Right, and on to the second conversation speaking of which... I'm seeing some videos of what I'm assuming to be you with your halo. Which would've spurred a lot of questions from me if I could contact you, but now it's calmed down much more."

"Yes, that was me. I'm working on getting Illuminated." There's a brief pause. "Aside from the, uh, 'forced break' I had for a few months, I've been intentionally hard to contact since no one to my knowledge can communicate with me confidentially the way that I can communicate with them. Even if I, like, had a cell phone integrated into my brain--" Was that possible? Probably. "--it would have to be connected to a service provider and then they'd have all of my records. And that doesn't keep me or then Network members safe."

"That's fair, I appreciate that you are taking measures to keep us well-protected. Anyhow, you're working on getting Illuminated? Seems dangerous, especially with mind-readers existing out there. Met one recently actually."

Lanie swallows. "I have a talented mind reader friend myself." She briefly wonders if they're talking about the same person. "My mind is pretty solid, which is maybe why the Beastmaster failed to control me... Illumination is necessary for me to achieve my vision, but I know it'll come with many risks and downsides. My friend isn't the only one looking for a way to switch between disguises--I would benefit from it too pretty soon... It has crossed my mind to look into making a proxy of myself somehow, supernaturally or mechanically, so that there is essentially a false me running around doing mass healings while I'm behind the scenes performing the 'miracles' and pulling the strings. But I don't want to put a real dog at risk, and even if I used, like, a fly-dog, I can't control them like you can ... It's definitely something I'm thinking through though because the odds of me being kidnapped will become incredibly high once my therapy ability is scientifically verified and it hits the news--like, 'I should collect bets from the Network members on which group attempts it and whether they're actually successful' high. I'm going to try to handle it on my own with the backup plan of doing my good deeds and then just vanishing off of the map for survival if I can't keep things under control..."

"That seems really complicated and hard. Just please try to remember that you can't help anyone dead, or worse. Or maybe stay anonymous, have the 'fly-dog' be nothing or a fake new formula or substance, try to spin the story that you don't exist but there's this new inanimate thing. I'm not sure how well that'll work out, but it might. If you're determined to become fully Illuminated though, do feel free to contact me for aid. I'll offer my meager services to help in any way, such as turning you into a different dog-breed as a disguise, but that'll be a logistical nightmare potentially. As for your fly-dog idea, well yeah, I doubt you'll be able to control them like I am able to."

The dog is quiet for a long while before she finally replies, "Remember when you told me that you wanted to make a world where the supernatural and the normal can co-exist? I want that too--but not just the supernatural and the mundane. I also want a world where people can co-exist better and a world where people and animals can co-exist better. There is so much brokenness in the world, and now I have the power to make some of it--the brokenness of the mind--go away." She pauses and looks away to collect her thoughts. "Successful movements have many faces and require many people's efforts, but the public always tends to focus on just one or a few faces... I'm willing to put myself on the line and be one of those faces while I work towards my other goals. Sometimes the thought is horrifying--I've spent so long trying to be under the radar--and then I panic and overthink it... And I'll continue to do everything I can to protect the Network... But truth is that I have a chance to sway public opinion about supernatural beings and animals if I give them something they want and need, something that no one else can provide--but only if I do it myself, in person, exposed." A robot proxy would never be accepted by the public, and a pseudo-dog wouldn't be able to navigate the social situations with the skill that Lanie could. It was up to her.

A sigh escapes Nathan and a pause follows. "I think I understand. Even before this conversation. There's no riskless way to induce real change, when there's opposition. Opposition willing to do whatever it takes. Opposition from those who want to utilize the strange new powers they see or to shun it." He slows down his speech. "I'm afraid too. Gaining power has made me, perhaps paradoxically, more cautious of them. I am much more aware of all the terrible, evil, evil things that could be done with them, intentionally or not. I imagine someone in control of me, and more blood dripping from my hands. It makes it hard, but what makes it harder is seeing the corpses you have piled up from your mistakes. If I'm not in the shadows, nameless, with time to prepare and strategize... An unhealthy dose of overthinking sprouts to avoid causing more damage to spread. But not acting is worse." "When you're famous or Illuminated, the world doesn't wait for you anymore. You just have to keep pushing. Or be knocked over. I'm trying to acclimate to that." Slower with more uncertainty. "Maybe I'm trying to build myself to the point where I can work well Illuminated. Maybe I'm just trying to delay myself from failing and ruining what reputation the Supernatural has. I like to think that I can do more without the eyes of the public watching me, to be able to unburdened by the corrupted powerful or to be stalked by my target while investigating them." He almost falls quiet at this point, his words soft. "I'm not sure I fully understand or can even express it." "But. Whatever it is, it's not going to stop me from helping you. I know that. If you're truly determined and willing to do this, to take this on... All of my services will be available to you. Whatever you can't do Illuminated. Or otherwise." Nathan is silent.

"Thank you, Nathan; I really appreciate it. I don't think I would have the courage to do this if I was doing it alone. But I know that my allies and friends--in the shadows or not--are behind me as I step into the spotlight."

"And they will continue to be. How much protection do you have ready for your inevitable encounters to come already prepared? What you're willing to share of course. Just thinking how I could perhaps patch up any blind spots you may have."

"I've given my blind spots a fair amount of thought, but I'm willing to brainstorm with you to see if I missed anything. For starters, I'm much tougher than I look in terms of being able to take a hit--so long as I haven't harmed anyone. It's sort of like following the Golden Rule. And if I know an attack is coming, I'm confident in my ability to avoid it. Being a dog has its perks; I'm very fast if I need to, like, flee from danger. Telekinesis lets me handle doors, which you've seen--but it's more than that. If I know something's there, even if I'm blindfolded, I can manipulate it. If getting into a fight can't be avoided, I can protect myself with that armor--oh, and I can put things on or take them off pretty quickly. I carry a lot more with me than meets the eye now, although all of it is customized for me--dog-related stuff..." She pauses to think through her mental list. "I've never done it before, and to be honest I don't want to do it, but I'm confident I can really hurt someone by biting or scratching them. I think the biggest issue at the moment is that I'm kidnappable. It wouldn't be hard to, like, shove me in a bag and then run off--but that's only if I don't notice them coming. That's more of a risk in a crowd than walking along an empty street or sleeping in my bed because I have an excellent sense of smell and can hear very faint noises, like heartbeats. If I was bagged, I'd have to be knocked out because otherwise I'd use my telekinesis to knock them down. Or, worse than that, someone I care about could be kidnapped in order to control me. That's, uh, sort of why I'm looking to re-home the pomski. At the moment, I live in a regular house in a suburb with a human--a normal human who's been acting as my owner and sort of my bodyguard. I don't live in a fortress or, like, the Bat Cave which means that trouble can follow me home. The wisest thing to do there is either to isolate so that no one around me is at risk... or make sure that I seem easier to kidnap than my family is, so that they don't feel the need to go after an alternative target." Or get a superhero underground lair. But even if that was possible, how would she go to and from it without anyone knowing?

"Ugh, the Bat Cave would be a horrible place to live in, I take care of a few dozen animals with supernatural control, and I'm already scrambling to clean them up." Nathan takes a moment to contemplate the information, his fingers rhythmically tapping a table, a "Hmmm..." being produced from his mouth as he does so. Mentally, a list begins to form. If I wanted to, how would I kidnap a supernatural dog... "First things first, dogs pretty obviously have great noses... How would you deal with odorless sedatives?"

"... Not eat anything outside of the house and not let strangers with hidden needles get too close to me?" The voice is clearly baffled. Sedatives came in 'odorless'?

"Your water supply?"

"I tend to carry my food and water with me these days, but actually... soon I'll have something that makes me no longer need to eat or drink, so that's a non-issue."

"Ah, right, you talked to me about this. Living somewhere vulnerable is probably something that needs to be fixed. Could definitely see a 'night-raid' situation happening, not likely but not impossible. Flashbang and tranquilizer darts and all that. What's more likely would probably be blackmail or threatening of loved ones. Any idea where you are going to stay? Also worried about social campaigns against you but that comes with being Illuminated, shouldn't be too big of a deal. I'm also concerned about some less-than-bright individual pulling a foolish attempt to kidnap you and possible making you reveal your cards and hurting bystanders while they're at it. Some bodyguards ought to help with that through looking tough, unless you want to reveal your capabilities to threaten ordinary people significantly."

"My closest friends are going to keep their distance from me going forward, per my request for their protection. And they have no financial ties to me nor digital nor paper records that we were ever connected." Her tone drops a bit as she adds "... and I don't have any surviving family." That was sort of true and sort of not. Her human replacement did, but that wasn't her anymore. Their father would be safe, always, even if he was sort of already dead. My Network members are sufficiently hidden. My bodyguard signed up for this to an extent--but she might leave if I can't find a proper disguise for her, which is understandable." Sierra didn't know what she was getting herself into initially, and Lanie is starting to prioritize her safety like she would any other friend (even though she's paying $1,000 a day for the 24-hour protection services). "I suppose I could buy some secluded manor and, like, hire a full security detail. I have a bit saved up... maybe I could hire one of us to set up the security systems--I know someone who does that sort of thing..." Two maybe, if she counted the paranoid genius. "I'm not sure how far $1.5 million will get me, but, like, maybe?" She had other plans for the money, but this feels more important now that she's talking it through with Nathan.

"I--My condolences." A few moments pass before Nathan says anything else. "An old secluded manor huh? Sounds depressing... It'll be much safer than just anonymity of your home and a nice neighborhood but it may be hard on you. Still, better than death I suppose... Hey, what's the chances that Mafia wants to kidnap a psychic dog capable of influence the mind anyways? Supernatural humans that are famous aren't kidnapped everyday.... Mostly worried about going to public events also mean people like the attempted-mind-controller or... uh... myself, could interact with you with much more ease."

"It's alright." Lanie says softly, more concerned for Nathan than for herself. "They've, uh, been gone for a really long time." It feels like ages. She misses daily living with her best friend too, but Keara has Mel now and Lanie has Sierra (for now) ... A secluded manor did sound depressing. "Or I can use the $1.5 million to, like, hire beefy bodyguards for a year and just travel with a detail of three or four like the president or something, like you said..." The dogtor chuckles at the thought. Sierra might be insulted, but it would be preventative more than anything. "Then it would take some solid effort to kidnap me--effort worth revealing my supernatural cards for. And, um, I'm not sure what do to about that last part. As I said before, I have a strong mind, but being a dog has its downsides." Apparently animal mind control is one of them.

"Well, as far as I'm aware there aren't a lot of mind controllers out there, so it shouldn't really be anything you should worry over too much about." And neither should I. "Honestly, we might just be too paranoid, a bodyguard or two should do the trick and you've got enough capabilities that most threats aren't worth too much pain." Nathan is worrying that he's creating a super paranoid conspiracy theorist dog that lives in a secluded manor in the woods where little kids tell horror stories of. "Uh, and since you've been super honest and open to me, I think I should be too, may be worthwhile to consider. Don't like revealing this for no immediate world-ending stakes but I can remotely transport myself to the position and gain control of animals. Occupy their body with my mind essentially. Not 100% sure if it'll work on you, since you're self-aware and all but there's a decent chance it might... All I'm saying is that if you need help, I can get there very fast."

"... Are you saying you could teleport to my side if I needed you to? Through, like, animal possession?"

"I guess that's one way to put it. Yes."

"... And you'd be willing to do this for me if I got kidnapped?"

"Of course! As long as I get a few moments to prepare and understand the situation."

"And then you would briefly possess me?"

"Mhm, so may not be much help if you were, say, sedated."

"As someone who can turn flies into dogs..." Lanie sighs. "Can you teleport through something, like, super small like a flea?"

"... Maaaaybe?"

"So, hypothetically, if you controlled a flea and told it to stay on me at all times..." This will be annoying insurance. "... You could possibly teleport to me through that flea if I contacted you for help--or if a friend of mine reached out to you and told you I needed help?" The odds of the kidnappers administering flea poison while dragging her away are quite low.

"Well, a fly doesn't exactly have the longest lifespan and is fragile even with my enhancements, but if you can take care of it, something like that could work, just logistically annoying. You still got that space I carved out in you right? ... I may have worded that poorly."

"... Very. Uh, like, try again?"

"Yeah yeah..." cough cough "You still have the pocket space I granted to you, yes?"

"Yes, I do. It's been extremely useful, and someone else did several other alterations to me as well--per my request... Why?"

"Ooh, fun, would like to meet them eventually. Anyhow, I could get a more resistant animal, or few, and have them in there. Little chance of them being found or washed off then."

"I guess I could... eat whatever it is that they eat, like, to feed them..." She speaks slowly, hesitantly. Is she signing up to swallow a live mouse or something? That sounds 1000% worse than a flea living on her exterior. And after that she sounds just baffled: "But then you would teleport 'there'?" Could he ... get out?

"Uh, yeah... Again, logistically a pain. That's why I suggested you first. And if your mouth was sealed, which it likely may be, well that might be a problem... But hey, you could say you had tarantulas on or in you! .... Which might not be a good thing...." Nathan grows quieter which each sentence.

"... Yeah, let's go back to me." This conversation is getting weird. "What would I have to do with you to set that up?" She didn't know if she would yet, but first, details.

"Uhm..." It was getting to the territory where Nathan hesitated to reveal what would strip him of a large part of his capabilities, but hey, it was obvious enough to keen individuals. "I'd prefer if you would keep this more of a secret. A mirror. I need a mirror that has reflected you or the potential tick or termite that would live on you."

"For possessing me or for possessing bug? I won't tell."

"Either. I'd need a mirror that reflected who I'm attempting to possess."

"That's it?"

"Well, it'd be only good for once, but yes, that's it. Quite convenient when I want to grab a real good pasta in Italy. WHICH ISN'T ALL I USE THIS FOR."

In all seriousness, Lanie replies, "... I mean, I would go to Japan for sushi--just saying..."

"It's really good."

"... Can I have some?" The dog's mouth starts to water.

"Right now? Um, let me check the time in Japan... Should be good, I can get you some sushi if you want?"

"You weren't joking--YES!"

"Going to be a bit difficult to transport... But yep, what do you want?"

"ANYTHING! And go light on the wasabi, please."

"Then I'll try my best to assemble the most delectable cuisine. This will however require me to, erm, transport myself to you via possession, if that is acceptable? That is, if you mind waiting several hours. Probably more." Sounds of Nathan opening a duffle bag can be heard as he gets ready. He's not doing anything else now anyways. "I guess it could be thought as test to see if this whole thing works to begin with."

Lanie answers with surprise, "Wait--you already have a mirror that's reflected me?"

"Mhm, from the Contract we were on together and the aftermath? Was using them back then already, finding nearby survivors and all, if you didn't remember. Forgive me if I didn't let you know that I potentially could teleport and possess you with that after I gained that ability, would've seemed really like threats and revealed my hand."

"Well... before I decide on this--and, granted, sushi from Japan sounds really good--I have a few more questions. First, if you can take me over for your insta-transportation, can I, like, eject you?"

"Of course, I understand the need to ask questions before anything like this. Again, I never tried this with anything that, well I suppose sapient would be the best term. The thing I do know is that if you were to be damaged or if I tried to disregard your self-preservation without first, uh, controlling whatever I was possessing, that I would be ejected out. But from what I have seen and experienced so far, no manual ejection." Except for what that alien land-shark did while I was in its head.

"Okay, second question: if your spirit is in my body, does your mind also share my mind? Like, would you feel the things I'm feeling or hear the things I'm thinking, or do you think I'd be essentially unconscious during your, uh, 'occupation'?" That would be interesting, Lanie considers, ramifications to herself aside. Possessing a squirrel or something... what do they think about?

"I... I don't know. Insects don't make very conversation inducing test subjects. I do take on the stronger instincts they have though, it's their brain after all."

"Well, if you can hear my thoughts and feel my emotions, then I want you to promise to allow one of my friends to remove that memory later, once your deal is made with the other Network member. My mind is my own."

"You know a memory deleter? Well, I would make a copy of what I should and am allowed know and double check and make sure I don't forget everything... But if there's nothing like 'Oh I'm going to kill Nathan later', I... I think I'll be fine with that. I think..." Nathan sounds unsure about the whole idea. Uncomfortable even.

"They're another Network member, yes, and a close friend--very good and what they do, with precision." She picks up on Nathan's tone and sighs. "No, I don't want to kill anyone--or anything for that matter. We've done a lot of revealing of our cards this time around..." It's not that this was all for sushi. This was a test run for an emergency situation in the future. "Still, possession is a bit more... vulnerable than even the sharing of trade secrets. One final question. Assuming it works... when you get here, are you willing to verbally declare anonymously and, like, with whatever voice you want, 'I have no intentions of possessing or controlling Lanie outside of her permission'?" Sierra would know if something is up upon Nathan's arrival, if he never exited; Lanie would set that up in advance.

"You're absolutely right. It is a very vulnerable position to be in. The answer will likely be yes, but may I ask why you want to me repeat what you said?"

"I know someone who will be on the other end of a call made by a burner phone who can discern truth from lies."

"With near-perfect accuracy." Granted, the dog is also a decent judge of character, but her keen senses are only useful when speaking to someone in-person.

"Ah. Would I have your permission for extreme emergencies ahead of time?"

"I mean, the statement would be true even if you had my permission afterwards."

"Just making sure in my mind before I say anything."

"And I'm permitting you to do this now. This one trip, to see if it works."

"But, yes. That'll be fine, though again, I would prefer for no one to know this conversation happened. Lots of secrets here, heh."

"They won't have the full scoop. Only that someone who can control animals is promising to never control or possess me, like, before we form a mutually beneficial partnership. In fact, they might mistake you for the other beast master we both know. And I will tell them nothing else about you. That's why I said it would be anonymous and in whatever voice you want--and I'd be making the call, not you."

"That'll work for me. It would be terrible of me to not trust you for at least this much. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay..." This really is a trust fall. "Are you ready now? I thought you said a couple of hours?"

"Well, yeah, I'm going to buy the sushi, but best to get confirmation before I spend money for this. I'm not exactly swimming in cash. Sushi is expensive..."

The dog chuckles. "Well currently I'm loaded--$1.5 million, remember?" She hasn't mentioned where it came from. "I'll pay you back plus cover the delivery fees." A pause. "I'm going to fill my bodyguard in on the plan so that she doesn't get caught off guard--" and so that she's on guard "--and then I'll be ready for your arrival within the next three hours. You're coming to a Hilton 3-star hotel in Houston, about a mile away from your meeting location. If it doesn't work, do you have a backup plan?"

"Huh." It is nice to have rich friends. "Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you soon, wonder if I can use your powers when I possess you.... Oh, one last thing, do you want me to be gone right away once I possess you? As for a backup plan? Driving never killed anyone, besides I've been to places near there before… Driving has definitely killed people. I meant spending a bit longer to do so."

"If you can feel my emotions and hear my thoughts, I want you to exit immediately... I don't see an advantage to you finding out if you can use my powers. If you were to come to my side in an emergency, your help would be being beside me, not within me, right? So, like, what would be the advantage of experimenting with that--aside from the niche situation where this might come up on a job?"

"Honestly? Curiosity. And also, who doesn't want to be able to move things with their mind, but if you're uncomfortable with it, I completely understand. In any case, I don't want to pressure you to doing anything, let's just say I get out immediately. That sound fair?"

There is a long pause. He's not wrong, she thinks to herself. "You have one minute to find out. Like, just don't trash the room too badly." Not that she couldn't pay for it.

"Awww yes! I promise you won't regret this! See you soon." Nathan will hang up.

---

A call to Minerva from the dogtor a few weeks after the Faraday visit.

"Hello!  How're you, Lanie?  I'm in Scotland right now!"

"Oh wow! What are you doing there?"

"I just arrived!  It's one of the jobs ... I don't know how comfortable I am with it,  but I'm telling myself I can fix it after..."

"You don't have to do it, Minerva. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. There will always be more jobs."

There's a long pause,  and a breath from the other end.   "I know.   But...I need to be stronger.   Faster.   What if someone comes after my family again?   It's not... I have to go on a fox hunt.  At least I don't have to kill the fox."

"But if you give up everything that you stand for to be able to be strong enough to, like, stand up for something, where does that leave you?" A fox hunt ... did not sound enjoyable at all.

A deity none the less.  That's the first thought that came to mind. "I... I can fix it after."  It didn't sound enjoyable at all to her either... but she's had some pretty terrible things happen to her.  "I will.  How're you doing?"

She sounds determined... Maybe it was better that she be there and then fix it, whatever that meant, than others who might be there, do the thing, and then not fix what they just did.

"Well... I was wondering if you could give me a quick hand? I want to check if someone is being totally honest with me--someone I'm about to partner with. And I know you can tell truth from lies, even just based on hearing their voice."

"Sure!  I don't mind."

"Thanks! In an hour or two, I'll call you, like, with a hotel room phone probably, and just have them say something--about them promising not to hurt me, basically. And then I'll call you on the private line and you can confirm that it's true. Then they don't have your number and they haven't heard your voice, but I still get my answer."

"Okay!  I'm heading somewhere kinda rural right now, I'm not 100% sure I'll have cell signal where I'll be in an hour.  Do you need me to loiter some before heading on?  Or is it okay? I should be back in a few hours.  I hope."

"They'll be here with me in like maybe two or three hours... but focus on what you're doing, okay? If the timing doesn't line up, we can handle it later on. I'm pretty sure they'll be around for the next day or so. I'd normally not pull you in at all, as I'd consider myself a good judge of character, but the alliance we're considering setting up is kind of ... uh," Lanie searcher for the right word. "... personal."

"Okay!  You can call me when you're ready, and I can tell you if I can take a phone call.  Shouldn't be too long."  There's a pause as she hears that response.  "Personal?  Okay...  Well, I'll try to be back as soon as I can!"

"Just do your best out there. This can wait, and thanks again."

"Thank you," Minerva says, and then the call ends. But literally seconds later, Minerva gets another call. "Wait, I don't have your number anymore..."

Minerva gives her current number, which Lanie then repeats a whole ten times while turning it into a short story in order to commit it to long-term memory. Something silly like, "Two vampires with zero fangs went to two dentists..."

Nathan feels hot. All around his neck, he mildly itches. The smells of the hotel room overwhelm him: harsh cleaning agents, a human (body odor, deodorant, laundry detergent), and faint cigarettes. He can hear the buzzing of the lamp on the desk in this hotel room, someone's breaths and their pulse close by, water running in the pipes within the walls, and other people in the neighboring hotel rooms--their movements and their faint, undiscernible voices. He tastes something metallic in his mouth; in his muzzle is a metal pen. He sees, but barely feels under all of that fur, white bedding beneath him.

Perspective is altered when one is a 45-lb dog. Based on the position of the paws, he is laying down on a large bed--a massive bed in what feels like a very large hotel room. It is decorated with abstract art and durable furniture similar to the one he and Lanie stayed at the night after the storm. There are a couple of bags in the room, one larger one and two carry-ons. Some daylight peeks in past the closed curtains, but most of the light comes from the lamp.

A fit white woman in her thirties wearing steel-toed boots, black jeans, and an untucked wrinkled button-up shirt leans against a wall with crossed arms, looking at Nathan with a rather pissed off expression. She has freckles and a sort of masculine look about her. And the moment Nathan makes eye contact with her, she pulls out a smartphone from her pocket and says, "One minute begins now."

Previously established agreement for no eye contact? Or another way for them to tell me apart? The dog nods to the woman with the smartphone as they quickly acclimate to their brand new senses, jaws still capturing the pen, they do this quite often after all. As they rise up a bit, they take another glance around the room. We never officially decided when I would say this huh? Well no harm in trying it now. "Bark bark!" Wait how does she talk? It's the pen, but how does that really work? Ugh, fine I'll settle for telekinesis for now. Nathan takes a moment, the eyes of the dog beginning to emit a faint silvery glow, following that the TV that begins to glow falls onto the ground. The dog pauses, then with some effort, it is put back to where it's supposed to be. The cracked screen still glowing. Then other things in the room begin to move and glow, two by two, until near a minute passes, and the room is in relative disarray. They tried alright? 

The woman quietly watches the hotel room get messed up with an unchanging scowl. Finally the (rather loud) alarm goes off and Nathan exits, supernaturally manifesting nearby.

At this point, hundreds if not thousands of fragments escape the dogtor's eye and coalesce into a human form, a feet or two off the bed. 

The seated dog stands and does a full body shake from head to tail before turning to the woman and saying through the speaker on her collar, "Fox hunt." This makes the woman visibly relax with a sigh. Lanie then turns to Nathan, who is notably absent of a sushi feast. Perhaps he carries more than meets the eye, like she did. "Looks like it worked. Please look away from the phone for a moment." Her eyes glow silver as the hotel phone on the nightstand beside the king bed floats up. With her other 'hand' she pushes the buttons to dial her friend--a number which Nathan should not be memorizing. 

As soon as the man emerges from the dogtor, he turns his head away from the bodyguard and a face mask leaves his pocket and slips on his face. Looking at the mess, Nathan murmurs to himself, "Might've been a bit too impulsive... This experience will be useful for them though." Applying force with your mind is quite the thing. Useful applications when without useful appendages. He walks up to the slightly damaged TV screen as the number begins to be dialed, frowning a slight bit now that the bodyguard has seen him and his capabilities. I thought we had an agreement. The Nathan in the TV screen smiles as Nathan approaches and it hands over a larger box which is slowly pushed through the screen and drops into Nathan's hand in the physical realm. The young man places the box onto a nearby table and turns back to Lanie, waiting for her to initiate the conversation. 

Lanie looks over at Sierra as the phone rings. "I'm fine." The woman doesn't move. "You're dismissed." This pulling of rank, this reminder that they are not only friends but also in an employer/employee position, seems to jolt the unhappy woman. She nods curtly, glances again at the masked man, and then leaves the hotel room. ring ring ring As the door clicks shut, Lanie says softly to Nathan, "Sorry about that. She--" And then someone picks up.

---

About two hours after their last telepathic call (presumably after the fox is hunted), Minerva receives a phone call from an unknown number. She had been expecting this though; Lanie said she would call her back using the hotel line. The moment the foxgirl picks up and begins to say hello, the dogtor (speaking through the speaker on her collar, pen in muzzle) cuts her off. "Hush. Please wait one moment." Nathan's phone then is 'called' by the dog as she begins to pant. She instructs him silently, "In a voice that isn't your normal one, please state that you have no intentions to hurt me or use me for your own personal gain without me knowing or, like, against my will."

Having already prepared for this, Nathan nods and raises up a finger, asking for a moment before heading into the washroom, leaving the door open with a small crack. A few moments later, a budgerigar flies out, the bathroom now seemingly empty, landing down onto the bed before it speaks into the hotel line. A very high-pitched and almost melodious voice states, "I have no intentions of possessing or otherwise supernaturally controlling Lanie without her explicit permission."

Minerva is currently sitting on the street outside of a curry place in Edinburgh in the middle of the night. It's surprisingly quiet. She jumps a little bit as she gets that phone call, and she sighs softly. She picks up the phone, and starts to say something.. before huffing a little as she's hushed. She frowns, but she does go quiet. There's a pause as she listens. "...Okay. That's true. But that's not what she asked..." 

"That's close enough," the dog interjects. "I didn't expect them to get so specific about it. Thank you, friend. We'll catch up soon."

Minerva blinks a few times. "Okay?" She says, before the call hangs up. She just looks at her phone after, and sighs. She goes back to looking down the empty street, organizing her thoughts, trying to convince herself she did the right thing.

---

Nathan reforms out of the bird at this point. The shattered and fragmented remains of Nathan fly out of their burrow in the birds eye, flat and shimmering like shards of a mirror, before they piece themselves back into their correct slots, not dissimilar to initial entering though reversed. The bird is still and looks around. "Ugh, it's harder for me to say things I haven't practiced and that's what you mentioned for me to state over the call. I haven't had much practice with talking through bird clearly. It is what it is though."

The dog seated on the queen bed watches the de-possession process with interest and then nods. "You did fine. I just had some time during the two-hour wait to think through the exact phrasing in a way that would be useful yet more vague--and I figured 'altered voice' meant, like, your human voice but higher or lower, not parrot-speak." Her tail begins to wag lightly as she adds, "It's hard to talk as an animal, isn't it?"

"Figured it be much more prudent if I changed the entity actually producing the sounds. Served as decent practice too, it is really hard to talk as an animal, even a budgerigar feels odd to talk through, everything is just off. It's honestly probably also part of just not being your body, hard to become accustomed to that. Loads of new instincts and sensations piled on you at once." While saying this Nathan begins to set up the sushi on a nearby table.

"Makes sense," Lanie says as she hops off the bed and moves towards the table. The faint smells of rice, sauce, and raw fish make her drool even more, stringy bits dripping off the pen she continues to hold onto the low-ply carpet. "Speaking of which, how did it feel being, like, under my skin? Oh, and did you have access to my thoughts during that time?" 

With relative ease, partly thanks to the help of a pocket knife, the bindings caging the pleasant aroma are undone and a selection of hand-crafted bites are displayed in their containers, spread across the table. "Dogs are moderately overwhelming but I've learned to acclimate, mostly. You weren't too much different. You also felt physically healthy, no aches detected! In fact, you were rather extremely powerful and agile from what I could tell. I mean I could just feel my movements having more weight and ease with them... Ah and unless you don't think most of the time, I don't believe I had access to your thoughts. Did you feel anything during then?"

That smells SO GOOD! Lanie's tail begins wagging rapidly as she answers at a bit faster of a pace, "I felt nothing, which is much preferred. I imagine it's sort of like what my patients who had Dissociative Identity Disorder feel when they switch between dominant personalities. It was like time stopped while you were there and then skipped forward when you left. Also, I see the telekinesis worked." The room continues to be in relative disarray. He had fun, the dog thinks to herself as she hops up onto the chair to get up to table height. Glancing quickly between fine sushi smorgasbord and Nathan, she adds excitedly, "This is--you are amazing!"

"Heh, glad I was able to be of use. I can do at least this much with incredible powers." A twinge of guilt hits Nathan. "The telekinesis did indeed work, but uh, I'll try my best fix this up afterwards. Uh--one moment please." Nathan first guides the bird back into the washroom, closing the door this time.

Lanie tenses up as the bird, at the young man's command, flies over to perch on his shoulder. Soon after the two are out of sight and the compulsion (which she manages to control once more) fades, allowing the dog to return her attention to the sushi that is slowly warming up--that should and will be eaten very soon. Any moment now...

A few moments later, he comes back out alone.

Seeing Nathan return birdless makes Lanie wonder where exactly he put it (or was it not a real bird at all--perhaps a fly in a small tube now?). Contractors are strategic yet immensely weird, the sapient supernatural psychic therapy dog concludes as she watches Nathan settle down beside her at the table.

He then pulls out a seat and gets himself comfortable before setting up his utensils. "Hopefully you don't mind that I don't have any for you, but I figured your telekinesis would suffice for this. As for feeling nothing, I'd agree, only watching and being able to do nothing is... it's terrible... Speaking of watching, I noticed that your... Bodyguard? They were set up here without me notified and saw some things I rather had kept as obscured as possible. I must admit I mind a little bit. Only a little."

"I'm fine without utensils," Lanie affirms. She gingerly sets down the pen on the edge of the table in preparation to chow down while Nathan continues, licking her chops ... and then he explains his reaction to Sierra, prompting the dog's ears to go back. She picks up the pen once more but doesn't say anything for a long moment, quietly looking down at the ground (and further salivating). Finally the dogtor looks Nathan in the eyes (hers are big and nearly solid black) as she answers carefully: "Yes, that was my bodyguard, Sierra. We tend to come together, as that's the nature of bodyguarding. She's a normal though--not a supernatural and not a Contractor. And she doesn't know your name or anything else about you other than that you were going to, um, 'travel to me via animal possession' as an experiment which I had cautiously consented to. Her presence was an additional precaution--one she sort of insisted on, which makes sense although I told her--well, it's not important ... but, like, that wasn't a precaution that I was intentionally trying to hide from you. Given that she has no communication or connection with other Contractors, and she isn't one herself, and she's under a contractual agreement with me to stay quiet about what she witnesses while on the job, I guess I didn't view her presence as revealing your trade secrets." The Samoyed looks down and away, embarrassed. "But, uh ... I can see how that would be ... um, like, an unpleasant surprise--I apologize." 

Nathan quickly forgives Lanie, reiterating that it was irksome more than anything else. Then the two enjoy sushi together as they catch up on their past escapades since their last hangout. He also agrees to permanently transform the pomski so that Bu Fang doesn't have to come by anymore. When he visits, he'll meet the captive human-turned-dog and then they'll determine what Nathan and Wumbra both want to do.

-------

Limited Options

The day after Lanie and Sierra return home from the Library, Theo arrives to meet with Dreamer and determine whether her dream-feather clothing can sustain his need to consume fresh human blood. Two days of passive experimenting later, it's discovered that his need is not a physical, metabolism-related issue but rather a mental one (yet not the type of mental issue that Lanie can repair supernaturally). Restful sleep is nearly impossible if Theo failed to feed the prior day. After he passes the findings on to the dogtor during a follow-up call, she informs him that enough insufficient sleep can quickly cause the mind to degrade into dysfunction and madness. 

In further bad news, Lanie shares that her own path down Option 2 for Theo's vampirism was quite short. After several telepathic calls, she determined that no one she knows can resurrect a body that has undergone the level of destruction needed to complete the de-cursing ritual (being beheaded and then burned to ash). 

At this point, they are out of options, and then third one dawns on the dog. The idea was seeded many months past, when Lilith asked if she could restore the mind (right after that unnerving melodical attack by the siren in Terry's office). The blood mage's question wasn't about removing lasting Traumas; rather, it was about refreshment and the reduction of present stress. Could the dogtor hone her skills to restore the mind in a different sort of way? She isn't sure, but she's willing to test her limits to find out. After all, that's how she discovered her ability to heal multiple minds at once at range without them saying a word.

If the answer is "yes" then they might have a temporary solution--the alleviating of the symptoms more than addressing the underlying problem.

And Theo will gladly accept any help he can get.

New and Interesting

Entering the ease-inducing area, a 5' 1" or so Asian man, brushes away a bit of his hair that was obscuring his vision as he lugs a large and blue luggage bag. As he continues, glancing around with interest, a book seems to catch his attention, and soon enough it is within his grasp. Approaching the disinterested teenager, he'll gently set down the luggage bag before pulling out a library card from his wallet.

"Hello there, I'd like to check this book out. Friend told me good things about it."

She nods, and goes to scan the card. However, it comes back as an error, and he is instructed to ride the Elevator to the top floor to speak with tech. However, upon entering, you are lowered down below, opening into the stacks.

Still having the luggage in possession, Nathan slowly exits the elevator, taking a moment to observe the huge catalogue of various pieces of media. "Oh, this is heaven."

“Not quite yet, but I’m working on it.” The cloaked woman says as she leaves rounds the corner of a series of book shelves.

The luggage zipper glows silver as it unzips via an invisible hand. And then the dog comes out and does a full-body shake. She holds a metal pen in her mouth. "Nathan, this is Dreamer. Dreamer, Nathan. Welcome to the Library." Her tail wags.

Nathan will set down the luggage bag, not so gently this time, before offering a handshake to the cloaked individual. "Pleasure to be meeting you." The Asian man with facial features that lean towards being sharper currently has on a loose blue and gray sweater, his left sleeve rolled up slightly, giving more space for the watch worn on the inside of his wrist. Behind the watch, a thin scar coiling around his wrist can be seen. A pair of jeans with the right pocket obviously bulging below that. On his neck is adorned a necklace that goes beneath his sweater, under his moderate-length hair. There's a slight cut extending from his lips and above that, his hair faintly obscures silver piercings in his ear.

The woman in the wing-themed cloak looks him up and down, wide silver eyes taking him all in. Her clothes are a comfortable gothic look, and she has a bulging burlap satchel at her side. Her face is painted with a matte black lipped smile, one gloved hand extended to the man in front of her.

And then there is the white fluffy female Samoyed wearing the black collar that's barely visible under all that fur, happily looking up at both humans like she just did a really cool, exciting thing.

“And unto you as well. Welcome to the Library.”

He'll shake her hand, still a bit distracted and entranced by all of the delicious morsels of secrets potentially hidden in each sheet of paper lining the shelves.

"Right, where would you prefer to discuss everything in more detail?"

Seeing that the introduction has been made, the dog seeks out her one-person audience somewhere deeper in the Library to tell him more of her story.

Nathan will give a little wave to the parting Dogtor.

Lanie catches it, prompting her tail to wag some more before she trots off.

---

Inside of the den was an open floor plan, it was sectioned off from the library and had a large open space that had portrait above on the ceiling. The portrait showed three coyotes, one with a mark on their bodies, and the other with spots fo sorts that speckled along the hind legs. The two were standing on a high cliff, while the background showed the sun setting. The area around this den was well kept, barely any dust, however it was clear that sections of the room was close to the tracks, yet they were ripped up and almost called into. For the rest of the end it would have the clean walls of a subway tunnel however at the very end was a large Coyotoe, laying down with a large quilt draped over his body. Having enough space to house his body as he didn't care to go deeper and ensured the other end of this tunnel wouldn't lead anywhere.

The medium-sized dog trots over to the two-story coyote. "Good morning, Ish'ta!" the dog says cheerily. Bringing two Network members together put her in a gooder than usual mood, and so did telling Sierra to take the day off and enjoy the city. "How did you sleep?" She didn't mean to pry, but it was the sort of question that she'd ask any friend.

Heaving heard her coming some time ago he would raise his ears some, glancing over towards Lanie he didn't know how to feel about how cheerful she was. It was oddly intoxicating, but at the same time it was like having a fresh and sunny face here, which was new and interesting. "Good morning, Lanie." He'd respond casually, lowering his head down to her level once she arrived. "I slept well, being able to make your own dreams is a wonderful ability, are you well?" He asked in return, being somewhat polite, though he was not used to small talk at all, but seemed okay with it when it came to Lanie.

"Oh, you're a lucid dreamer, that's fun!" The dog takes a seat close by Ish'ta's lowered head, where the two can comfortably see each other. "I've had that happen a few time, but it's pretty rare... Yeah, I'm good! Sierra has the day off, and one of my other friends--a Network member--brought me here today. And now Dreamer and him are working on a deal." This seems to be the primary source of her bubbly excitement. Her fluffy curly tail hits the tile floor, beating a muffled rhythm. thump thump thump

Staying low and listening to her he would relax and just listen, she was very energetic or at least gave off the impression of such. Plus with how she spoke and casually regarded him and what’s going on, it was almost like she had very little to worry about in the world. An odd sensation of wanting to just protect her or to bite the head off of anyone who would bother Lanie began to arise but he'd suppress those ideas; he promised Jessie to not kill people--unless they hurt anyone in the library, then obviously they were fair game. "That is nice, I would hope you would come back again." His voice was stern, trying to not show that he would be sad or disappointed if she left before talking to him. Truly trying to hide his wishes like a tsundare who didn't want to display their feelings, and calling them a 'baka'. "I can hear them, just like I can hear everything around this place, I'll be sure to cut this all short if this guest causes any problems. Apologies if my movement my injure you." Apologizing ahead of time, he could hear the conversation was going alright so far, as such he would no sooner add. "This is good however, building a network of information and 'friends' is better than being alone in the world. I would know better than most."

Lanie seems surprised by Ish'ta's comment about his hopes that she would return. She had forgotten that the deal made two days ago was supernaturally obscured, made over a confidential line. "Oh, I'll be here all week actually--I'm helping Dreamer learn how to work with Knight." This also seems to make her happy. A lot of progress had been made even just yesterday (when Dreamer fell asleep several times during the sessions, giving Knight a chance to practice his duties). "Training a narcolepsy service dog is a process, but Dreamer seems to be good with animals and Knight is a quick learner. I think once I help her get the core concepts down, she can continue building the collaborative relationship and reinforcing the desired behaviors without me." The dog looks way up at the mural on the ceiling after the coyote speaks of the pains of loneliness. Then she looks back at him. "Ish'ta, after I've shared some more about myself today... may I ask you a question about you?"

He nods, understanding that Lanie was helping to network, or so it was told to him that’s what she had in mind. Her excitement about it only made him smirk a bit, he never met someone like this before, but he would respond back to her, “I wish I could understand more of your friends, but I will not for this, besides you are here instead and I am happy for it." Pausing as he watched Lanie's eyes go up for a moment then back to himself, he would straighten up some and add, "Yes you may, Lanie." Ish'ta spoke, not knowing what the question would be but he would relax for now and allow her some space to relax too before they would talk fully. "Do you require anything while you are here? I can call Jessie to accommodate you." Jessie wasn't really his 'servant', but he did request her like one, with mostly silly things now a days rather than the soon to be bodies of humans.

"I'm fine, thanks!" The dog continues to be pleased. "I know I said that I like to travel light, like, and not have anything restricting my movement, but I also carry a full packed bag with me at all times. Let me show you--" Lanie looks around for a place to go that's out of Ish'ta's sight, but this is a wide-open floor plan and he's a huge creature "--uh, close your eyes for a second please?"

Leaning in he wanted to see what she was going to pull from her bag, but noticing her hesitation and her request to close his eyes he would suppress his curiosity and do as instructed. "Very well." Closing his eyes, he would bring his paws up on his face to give her added comfort in knowing he wasn't spying on her as he wondered what she was doing right now. If anyone came by on this scene it looked like the big Coyote was playing hide and seek with her, but that was far from the truth, or so he hoped.

Lanie chuckles at the addition of the coyote's paws. Notably, the white Samoyed had nothing on her but her black collar that was barely visible under all that fluff and a metal pen in her mouth (which seems to be necessary for her to speak from the speaker in her collar). She has no actual bag of any kind. But just a few seconds later, Ish'ta hears "Okay, ready!" and uncovers his eyes to see the dog sitting beside what appears to be a large lunch bag. Her eyes glow silver as the bag unzips and the things within are slowly pulled out: containers of (high-quality) dry dog food, water, and (homemade) treats with sets of collapsible bowls.

Removing his paws, he would no sooner notice a bag was here, causing his eyes to show a glint of interest as he sniffed it and although it smelt alright, he wasn't as hungry due to the enchanted item he had. Granted he could still always eat if he wished it. "Oh? You have magical capabilities too; I didn't believe you could summon satchels of food like Jessie. But much faster." Clearly he meant this more so Jessie going to the store to grab things, but for him he'd just lean in and sniff it a bit before looking to "Are these magics exclusive to you?" Ish'ta asked next, clearly flabbergasted by how his canine companion was able to summon this from out of nowhere.

By how she sits there, such a small thing in comparison yet sitting tall (and tail still thumping a bit), the dog seems proud. "I gave a lot of thought on how to be independent and self-sufficient even in this form! Humans built a world that they can navigate easily, but not for other creatures to navigate easily. I wanted to be sure that no matter where the jobs take me, I have some basic supplies, and so ... now I do. I have a whole bunch of things--a life vest that fits me, a medical kit with pain medication designed for dogs, a waterproof tent in case the job is in the wilderness, even a Kevlar vest if I can't avoid getting into a combat situation--so that the odds are higher that, like I'll survive and not burden anyone on the team." She pauses her fast, excited explanation and then remembers his question. "Yeah, this is exclusive to me, and, uh, for some reason I can only do it if no one's watching." She experimented with her housemates for a while to find the limitations of the supernatural ability, and that was one of two she discovered.

"Ah, that is disappointing, I wished to learn how to do it myself, though I don't need to store many things. My size helps to carry what I wish." The large coyote would point out, still fascinated by her capabilities but would no sooner ask about something else. "You say this was a 'form' of yours, do you have a true form? Or was this something you changed into due to the 'quests' you go on with Jessie."

He was well aware of what Jessie dose occasionally, knowing that if she leaves there’s a chance she might not come back, and although it is a sad prospect, he would understand why she does what she does. Given how Lanie had been talking he believed she might also be attached to this questing system as he so lightly put it, "Are doing these quests what gives you these capabilities? Or were you born into them like myself?"

"Well..." Lanie seems hesitant as she looks away for a moment. But she did say she'd tell her whole story. (Ish'ta hears her heart rate go up.) "... I was a human before I was a dog. But now I'm a dog, through and through." Hopefully that did make the coyote dislike her. The information certainly changed how people related to her: the difference between a naturally sapient dog and a woman who became one. "Yes, I do the same kinds of jobs that Dreamer does." It is by now clear that Dreamer's real name is Jessie, but she wanted to called Dreamer and so Lanie would respect that. Her tone is more serious now as she looks to Ish'ta and adds, "That's why I have to be prepared for anything."

Hearing that she was human prior to her change didn't seem to offend or make him see her differently at all, mostly he'd wait and listen to everything she had to say while also listening to her increased heart rate. Understanding that she might be feeling a tad apprehensive, but not knowing why, it wasn't like he hated all humans- just the few that wronged him or caused the world to be how it is now. "Understandable, being prepared is better than casually going about your quests with good intentions and nothing more. Do you feel that these quests will give you what you need? Also, may I ask was it difficult to get adjusted to what happened to you? It seems less of a choice and more of a mandate." The coyote would ask, happy to know more about her as he seemed to relax some as she began to say things about her.

"Yes, the jobs are getting me to where I want to go--well, more like helping me become who I want to be, who I really am. And, uh, actually Ish'ta... I did, like, choose to become a dog. Well, I sort of always knew that..." the dog looks at the coyote meekly, ears going back "... I was supposed to be this... like, I wasn't put here in the right form, the right skin, I mean. This--" she looks down at herself, her two white paws on the tile floor, before returning her gaze to him "--is who I am, who I always was."

Sitting there the creature would wait to hear her explain things further, his eyes not showing judgement, but just plain interest in hearing aspects of why she felt this way, why she thought about herself, ect. Once she began to go into further depth about her form, why she wished to become this, and why she felt comfortable in this body he would simply nod. "I am happy to hear this. If you are comfortable and happy as you are, then I am sure others can be the same if they pursued the same ideals you do. Sometimes others do not feel as they are on the outside, and as such changing makes them feel scared, alone, fearful of what others may think. For you, Lanie, you will not have to worry about any judgement from me ... I am glad you are who you are. It makes your story that much more impactful." The coyote seemed pretty welcoming, probably because as a non-human, he felt that if humans would just be happy in whatever body they wished to be in, they wouldn't be so murderous, so angry all the time. Learning early on that happy people equaled a better life for those around them. "Besides, this form is much more appealing and unique, but this may be my bias speaking." He'd snicker, probably the first time Lanie has heard them make a sorta joke and laugh.

"Oh uh..." Lanie didn't expect the compliment at the end. "Thanks!" thump thump thump The dog now seems perfectly at ease again and happy once more. Then the woman's voice coming from the speaker of the collar giggles. "I'm pretty biased towards canines myself!" The Samoyed holding the pen looks at Ish'ta with admiration. "Maybe someday I'll be as strong as you, and not be afraid of anyone and live out my days somewhere, like, where I can have some peace and just be." That is a distant dream, long after she'd done what she needed to do and handled the personal fallout of it. But ... maybe someday.

Hearing the sound of her body relax made him feel at ease as well, he could tell she was nervous just from the noises she gave off, from a steady heart beat from a quickened one, to the small fidgeting and even tone. He wouldn't mention it but for now this was a nice time and he'd try to promote a good atmosphere. "I hope you do, although I am not as powerful as some other creatures of legend, getting to a level where you can be who you'd like and not have many oppose you dose have many perks to it. For that, you will get to a point where you can live and be at peace. As such I'll aim to make your visit as pleasing as I can for you while you enjoy your stay." He may not be the main host like Jessie, but as promised he would be amicable and respectful to all beings brought here.

"Thank you! It's quite nice down here." Quiet, safe, clean, nothing triggering her chasing or barking compulsions. The sight and smell of so many books are comforting even; they remind Lanie of her childhood home. She'll go back to training Knight once Nathan is gone, but for now she's enjoying this moment with Ish'ta. She scratches an itch behind an ear for a moment with her back paw before continuing. "The adjustment to being a dog wasn't so bad..." well "... I use telekinesis to do the simple things, like open doors. I've had a keen sense of smell for some time now, so that wasn't new. I, uh, did have to pretend that my previous human form died so that no one would ask where she went." That was when she learned the word 'immolation.' "But, like, that human identity wasn't my real one; it was a fake name and persona that I was using for just a few months." That was a long story. "My real identity I gave away before that to someone who needed it and wanted it more than I did." And that was a longer story. "All that being said, I've had quite a few names and nicknames in the last year and a half." Melanie (or Mel), Alice, Allie, Mommy, Lanie, she thinks to herself. "And legally the old me is alive... and also dead."

Looking around, Ish'ta felt like it could look a lot better down here if he was a skilled artisan or had the capability of doing so. Unfortunately he had paws. Although he was rather skilled with his digits, enough to poke Jessie when he wanted too but never hurt or scratch her with nails that were the length of her forearm, he would hope the library would get cleaned up a lot more as the years went on. "You've adapted well then to your true self, as you mentioned prior this is the 'you' that you were always supposed to be. Given it wasn't so bad for you I can only expect that it was destined to be." As she went on about her old self he would shake his head, adding soon after she was done. "If you have no ties to your old self then its no longer you, I am happy to know Lanie. If what you were before is no longer the you that you wish to portray yourself as, then I'm happy to hear about them in passing." The way Ish'ta spoke seemed like he knew about this more than any normal person should, granted he wasn't a 'person' per say, an intelligent creature that could talk and had a well of knowledge was more like it.

Again, the dog appears to be very pleased by what the coyote said. Some saliva drips off the metal pen that she holds in her mouth as she sits there beside her lunch box and not too far away from Ishta's massive canine head. Her curly fluffy tail wags. Maybe someday her mouth would stop watering when she held the pen (aka, someday her mouth wouldn't register it as something edible). Today is not that day. "I am me--Lanie--yes! Thank you for accepting that." She supposed now would be a good time to talk about current herself. Her past years as a human were like a foundation. Foundations are important but only in the function that they serve for the building on top of them. "I am ... I'm a sapient supernatural therapy dog, and I have risked my life again and again to be able to live relatively independently as such and to rapidly heal the mind en mass." In truth, she didn't think mass healing were possible until five months ago. That changed her long-term plan--how big she dared to dream. "I intend on healing anyone and everyone who will let me: cops and criminals, civilians and inmates, rich and poor, old and young... because everyone deserves to have a chance to have a fully functioning, healthy mental and emotional state." This manifesto is said with all the conviction a 45-lb white fluffy dog can muster. 

"So do you believe your goal is feasible?" The massive coyote retorted after listening to portions of her goals and her wishes to change the world in a way that would help people. She seemed like a noble spirit, one with the will to help others was not easy, but also not above honor, however it seemed a bit short sighted in some ways. "Hm, your purity is quite sweet, I believe your goal could be possible when you have the power over violence as that will be a hurdle you must face. One that I'm all too familiar with." It looked like he was giving this insight for the fact that he didn't wish to see her harmed, after all, he was starting to see her request to be friends coming sooner than he expected. Not that he expected it at all prior to their personal meeting.

"I know it's possible," Lanie answers confidently. But her ears go down briefly though when Ish'ta speaks of violence. She nods and answers quietly, "I know that doing that will come with risks to myself... I don't know if, like, right now I can handle all of those risks--either fight them off myself or flee--and so that's why I need to accept a few more jobs and, in the meantime, depend on others ... on my allies--my friends." And so it turns out that that bold question she asked Ish'ta two days ago was a part of her larger plan for survival.

It's not that Lanie wanted to drag others into her messes (even though several of them owed her for her help with their messes). She planned to try to handle any assaults and kidnappings herself and would involve as few others as possible if it was beyond her abilities to resolve. Aside from a straight sniper attack, she'd probably be fine. She is quiet for a long moment, during which Ish'ta hears his guest's heart rate go up again as she looks down at the ground (worried).

Dreamer pokes her head into this area of The Library, the black German Shepherd trotting alongside of her, dark hair flowing down into her face, the blonde of her roots faintly visible. “Hey you two, I’m putting in an online shopping order, is there anything I can get for you two? Dog treats, scented candles, etcetera etcetera?” She gestures with the tablet in her hand.

Lanie seems surprised by Dreamer's sudden appearance. Normally she'd be able to sense the woman's approach by scent and/or subsonic hearing. "Um..." The white dog seems like she's about to say something but then doesn't. Instead, she just drools a bit more than before as she holds the metal pen in her mouth.

Ish'ta was about to respond, seeing her worry and hearing it in her increasing heart rate, but what he didn't hear was Dreamer coming up to them, which was...odd. Normally he could hear anything with in a certain distance, no matter how small, but maybe he just wasn’t paying attention today and would simply focus on fixing that. For now, he would answer them, "If you could provide Lanie with whatever she has in mind I'd be satisfied with that. Although..." He paused for a moment, thinking about something before adding, "Your silent steps are worrying, I cannot hear you as I do naturally, have you done something to mask yourself?" He was very direct and would ask about it, after all if something was up, he'd not hesitate to get up and cause a ruckus.

“Oh I figured it’d be less of a distraction to you both if you only heard me when I needed to be heard. I’ve been practicing at my silence until it’s become second nature. And now…” She pulls out a small bell, steady in her hand until it was plainly visible, and then aggressively flails it about by the ribbon. However, the bell makes not a single sound, not even against the ring in her hand.

"Ooo," Lanie says. "Such a great development for a thief!" Her tail wags a bit.

Nodding, he was happy to know why he couldn't hear them anymore, but would also wonder if he should find other means of detecting those who could do the same. After all this was his home now, and he wouldn't dare be taken off guard for the sake of both himself and even Jessie who was the one displaying all this. "I understand now, very well. I only hope no one malicious comes by with the same capabilities. I was moments from testing if you were real or not due to your silence. But thank you for explaining."

“Really, from what I’ve seen, amateurs try for invisibility. And if someone does enter, hidden by sound, it’s almost impossible to enter out of sight of the cameras I have set up outside. But Lanie, what can I get for you?”

The dog straightens up. She clearly didn't hide that she wanted something very well. "Uh, like... when lunch comes around, would you be willing to order me some steak? I'll pay you back of course! I'd do it myself but Sierra has the day off and, um, I can't call people I don't know, like the employees of a restaurant..." Yesterday she had a tri-tip from Taste of Texas and it was heavenly. The Samoyed continues to drool from the mere thought. This finally causes her to look down and notice the drips on the tile floor by her paws. She then swallows and looks back up at Dreamer and Ish'ta with her ears back a bit.

“Absolutely, I can have that arranged to be here in…” she checks her phone for the time. “…two hours. Don’t worry about paying me for that, consider it a gesture of goodwill. Any particular seasonings you can’t digest or anything of the sort? And is there anything else I can get for you?”

"Okay, thank you! No garlic and onions please--both are basically canine poisons. No, nothing else thanks!" The white dog seated beside the large fabric lunch box is excited. "I have water and snacks here, so I'll be fine until lunchtime."

Ish'ta would contemplate if he should find another means of detecting intruders now, however he had no means of gaining more capabilities, besides the ones he was born with. As such he'd hope that this lack of attention to detail will eventually be corrected with better preparedness. "By the way, will you be having more guests over soon?"

“All in due time. Currently trying to find some more permanent assistance for The Library. I’ve gotten a couple of recommendations thus far.”

The dog perks up. "Oh? What kind of permanent assistance?"

“People to work The Library like me. Clean up messes, keep the peace, help take care of Ish’ta. That sort of stuff.”

"I look forward to the servants you promised me." He said with proud visage as he rose his head, slightly happy to hear that it was in the works, clearly content to wait for them to arrive.

Lanie is quiet and still. The thoughts she has she doesn't share. And then her tail starts to thump slowly again upon hearing that Ish'ta's being well cared for here.

Once Jessie begins to leave for the time being, probably to go and get the things Lanie requested he would no sooner lay down again, looking to his current companion as he asked. "If what you feel you need is more power in order to protect yourself, I can understand the need to keep going." He'd pause a moment, knowing full well that power was necessary to protect ones self in this world, otherwise you'd be as easy to kill as a lamb. "Lanie, do not trust everyone you think you can rely on, however I hope you get to a point where you never have to fear for your own safety. I would like you to be safe." Ish'ta could see she was a pure creature, someone who became who they were due to the events that got her to this point. As such she'd see him soon rise to his feet, towering above her like a little puppy before reaching out with his mouth and grabbing a large leather bound book, it had a tasle for a bookmark, red in color, the leather was a dark brown and a strap along it as he dropped it in front of him with a thud. It kicked up dust and seemed to be about the size of a flat screen TV.

With a delicate claw he flicked the book open, the pages blank as he sat down again, soon adding. "I've yet to do this for 'Dreamer', however I feel it is time I chronical you both offically. Do you mind if I write your story, Lanie?" Taking a single claw it would change from a slightly darkened brown to black color, to a pure inky black as he looked down at her.
Lanie — Today at 1:52 PM
Lanie sneezes from the dust and then comes closer, peering down at the large empty pages and then up at the massive creature above her. Her ears go back a bit as she asks, "Um, who is the book for?" 

Leaning down, he would simply say: "Its for you of course, Lanie."

Now the Samoyed is embarrassingly lost. "But, uh, like... why would want you write my story for me?"

Ish'ta didn't seem unamused at her questioning, instead he would snicker a bit, almost finding it funny that she would bring it up. "It is good to see your taking my advice already, your trust or untrust of this is unwarranted however. I am a being that collects stories on those who were, who will be, and who are. These stories biographies I collect tie to the person on an intrinsic level, for those that agree to my request your life will be recorded until your story 'ends' on these pages, writing themselves till that day." He'd allow her to contemplate what he said before continuing, "This book can't be accessed by anyone but myself, and I am quite selfish I will admit, as such I don't share them with others. But just as if you offer this to me, I will offer my knowledge back to you." He'd remark, detailing that this was a sort of trade, between the two canines, but he'd allow her to ask as many questions as she'd wish.

This explanation puts Lanie back on track. "Oh! Okay, I understand." Her tail lightly wags. "Yes, you can write my story ... and I don't need anything back from you, although I'm sure your knowledge is vast compared to mine... I, like, just enjoy your company." She says this, pen in mouth, through the speaker on her collar, while looking the mythical creature in his emerald eyes. 

Nodding he press his claw against the book, "I...-" He pauses, not used to admitting this but would follow it up, "-...Enjoy your company as well, Lanie." He seemed almost bashful for a second, but given Ish'ta's nature it would fade as quickly as it appeared as he would soon lay across his side now, pressing his back up against the wall. Almost offering her to lay with him if she wished, at the same time he could happily spend however much time they wanted to talk and go over anything she wished to talk about. After all, he had forever to listen but he knew she might not, as such he was keen to spend every second giving her his full undivied attention. Knowing just how precious time was for creatures who couldn't live like he could, which was the reason why he was happy to make her as comfortable as possible. "You may rest with me if you so wish, Lanie."

thump thump thump "Okay!" The offer is pleasant yet surprising. Lanie figured Ish'ta would be focused on the writing of her story, presumably with that long black claw of his or maybe by some supernatural method. However, she really enjoyed the cuddles with him the other day and wouldn't pass this up. 

To be fair, the dogtor had a long history of cuddling--her parents and family dogs as a child, her roommate as a young adult, her friend and adoptive daughter on the couches of their two homes (during the curse period), that pile of monstrous teddy bears and a paranoid hacker friend (strictly business but she still enjoyed it), and now her own two pet dogs and bodyguard whenever they were home. To feel another thing right beside you, to know that you aren't alone in the dangerous world and appreciated by another being, is a beautiful thing. But soon the dogs would be given away, to keep them safe, and even Sierra was considering leaving her position because things are about to get much more difficult and complicated regarding Lanie's safety. It seemed that everyone tended to fade away from her for one reason or another. 

The dog happily takes the offered spot, curling up with her fluffy back pressing against the fur of Ish'ta's chest and then sighing happily. "Maybe," she speaks softly, "I can take a long vacation in the Library, like, after I change the world..." If I survive.

"I will be here for when you choose to do so, Lanie... This place should be a haven to you as much as any of Dreamers other companions." Or so he'd hope. Of course he'd altered and changed the area to be a bit more lived in for both himself and moved out of the way for Jessie to work and build parts of the library up as she saw fit. He was the dens 'owner' per say, but he understood that he couldn't be seen or walk around in society with out raising problems. So this was his only way of 'seeing' the world, or in this case reading about it.

Starting on the book she'd find that if she spoke about her life he'd use his claw like a highly trained artist would paint a picture. The words were not words, instead they would show on one part the translation to what ever chosen language the reader wanted or knew, and then on the other a moving colored inky picture began to show the description of the words in details. Like a movie playing beside it but with dancing ink blotches mixing to form detailed pictures of what was happening. 

For himself though, Lanie was familiar with how Ish'ta felt, he had a nice silky coat due to constant grooming, he was warm and she could hear his slow heart beat that could lull anyone to sleep. In addition as he let her rest with him he adjusted slightly, only to have that quilt he was given drape over her slightly as the rest of his body did the work of making her feel surrounded by a living creature that seemed all but focused on her and only her.

"Thank you," she answers, and after a few minutes her breathing pattern changes as the hot dog falls asleep. The pen eventually falls out of her mouth, causing the dog to stir but not awake. 

About thirty minutes later, the sleeping fluffy Samoyed stirs. Her legs twitch and her body tenses up. Then she whimpers quietly, lost in her dreams.

---

A frail white woman wearing fashionable monotone clothes (a long pea coat, jeans, booties, and gloves) rushes down a dim, decrepit, endless hallway of doorways. The shrill, haunting sound of a single note from a violin drones on and on from somewhere behind her.

The woman glances into the rooms as she passes them by, her eyes making the most of the low red lighting as she breathes heavily. Some horror lurks deep within each room that only seems to notice her as she notices it. But really she's depending on her nose, searching for the smells of the young girl she has come to call her daughter and the man who loves her, Lanie's friend. And for the smell of fresh blood. 

A bright flickering light casts odd shadows in the hallway several doors down. She continues towards it and then leans in the open doorway, gasping for breath and then coughing from the inhaled dust. Within this smaller room is an old computer monitor on a counter full of switches and levers. Several broken guitars hang on the crumbling walls. On the monitor is the grainy image of a nondescript woman. "Do you need an ally?" she asks sweetly, her steady voice cracking and somewhat altered. The question causes the dog to bristle up, crouch low, and growl.

Travel and Business

The extensive business at the Library concluded, and woman and dog returned home once more. The bloodhounds were thrilled that they're back and the pomski couldn't have cared less. Lanie then did nothing of particular importance for a bit, just enjoying being home after all of that travel and business. Movies were watched, walks and jogs were had, steak and sushi was eaten. Five weeks had passed since her last job; if a harbinger approached her every two weeks like they did with Minerva, the dog would have definitively declined. She had so many things to do, and the order of them getting done mattered, and having some rest in between the things also mattered.

At the end of the two-week break, Nathan stopped by. This time he properly introduced himself to Sierra, no mask involved, although he requests that she be discreet and not share his identity with anyone. The bodyguard agrees, commenting on how it comes with the job. Through Nathan's mirror magic, Wumbra transformed into a pomski for good (freeing Bu from his monthly visits). After some discussion, it is determined that Nathan is willing to keep the dog (having a Sapient animal on hand is really helpful for things he wants to try). However, Wumbra surprisingly decides to stay put. From that moment forward, the pissed off little dog's mood improves a bit--to the point where she tolerates the others interacting with her and is an actually reasonable roommate (although far from angelic).

Lanie then reached out to the school for the blind (the one she and Dominic helped with a massive donation from a deceased, filthy rich, miserly Contractor and the one where she also shipped the fully healed monstrous teddy bears). Connecting with the headmaster there in person didn't turn out to be as successful as she had hoped. Again, Lanie's lack of evidence that her healing powers were truly effective stood in the way of her being allowed to heal. She could have stealthily done the therapy services anyways, Marking something in the children's dormitory and administering the sessions in the middle of the night, but that would have been incredibly unethical. Instead, the dog just visited for a few days and let the blind children, teenagers, and young adults pet her--for once being a real, mundane therapy dog. And then she went home.

A check-in with the medic gave Lanie hope. He had found someone interested in studying her (the video testimonies helped out here). They made plans to meet in a few days with this old college friend of his to introduce him to the dogtor. The meeting went well, although it brought up something Lanie had been pondering for a bit--the issue that she, as a dog, had no rights, no wealth, and no legal backing. Revealing the golden goose would undoubtedly create problems for her, and currently she had no way to handle them. The plans for her Illumination were paused as she sought out a solution... 

... by striding into the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) headquarters, demanding to meet with the CEO immediately, and then making a deal to become the mascot of the famous international animal rights organization. In exchange for her presence at PETA fundraising events, testifying at speaker panels, and being in ads to garner public support, the dog would be legally owned and backed by them--putting their general council of lawyers at her disposal and giving her a PETA bank account where her personal earnings could be held on her behalf. A deal was made, printed up, and signed with an inky paw print (in, the lawyers noted, a non-legally binding way).

With the support of an organization, Lanie then partnered with a scientist to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that she can, in fact, rapidly heal mental health issues on one or more patients at a time without talking to them (however, she did not reveal that she didn't have to be present to do so). Her subjects: non-verbal children in the Northwestern Hospital, with their parents consent of course.

In just a few weeks Lanie will be fully Illuminated. To prepare, she gave her dogs to Keara and Mel and they agreed to not be in touch for a while. Lanie still has not found a supernatural way to provide Sierra with a disguise like she had requested ...

Sierra appreciated Lanie's help with finding someone who can alter her appearance for safety, but the options presented didn't suit her. To Lanie's surprise, she then insisted on dropping the request entirely; she had been thinking about it and decided she'd rather show her face than devote such time to hiding where her loyalty lies. Even if it's more dangerous, she actually hated the idea of watching herself put effort into that indefinitely. She stared very seriously down into Lanie's shiny black eyes and says that she will protect her. The dog was touched (and she hid her worry about the welfare of her bodyguard and friend). When the time comes, who would be protecting who?

Still, with that unknown resolved, Lanie proceeded with her own public "outing."

-------

An Exceptional Sense of Smell

Sometime later, Emily Miller gets a 'phone call' from the white dog. If she's been keeping up with social media, Emily may have seen a couple of viral videos of that same dog walking around the streets of Chicago beside a burly, tattooed, middle-aged man wearing dingy jeans and a wife beater--during which both dog and man had ethereal spikey halos upon their heads and a familiar female voice seemed to be coming from the dog (despite her muzzle not moving to match). That spread about a month ago but then vanished from the public's mind about as quickly as it had been in the spotlight.

Emily answers the call. "Hello, Emily Miller..." She had seen a couple of the videos, but... things had been hectic. "How can I help you?"

"Hello Emily, this is Lanie. I'm ready to be added to CryptoLink."

"That's great! Typically we do an in-person meeting... but I have met you before, I recall, so I'm willing to skip that if you just want to do it over the phone. Do you have a preference?"

"Oh, like, I wouldn't mind meeting you in-person, maybe over a meal or something." The dogtor has her own agenda.

"Sure! Seattle?"

The Samoyed similarly takes in a good, intentional whiff as the werewolf comes closer to unhook her leash. As for what Emily smells like... She has a lot of scents on her. The main overtone is some kind of floral shampoo.. but even with washing all of her fur with it, there's still other scents there. A wolven scent more than a human one. Sweat, sex, liquor, cigarette smoke. A man. Many men, really, but one predominantly. Blood, hers and other people's. Permanent marker? Maybe just the most subtle - oldest - undertones of a sterile scent, of chemicals. Those were ... insightful smells on Emily--like, the kind of insightful that Lanie honestly didn't want to know. After a slight delay, the dog's tail wags lightly as she looks up with a pleased expression and answers, "Thank you!" Between two creatures with an exceptional sense of smell, smelling interesting is a solid compliment. Honestly, Emily smelled interesting too, but not in the way that Lanie wanted to highlight. "Yes, I'm ready," Lanie answers as she trots towards the entrance of the restaurant, abandoning the leash.

Emily walks towards the entrance of the restaurant with her, opening it up. The hostess had probably been waiting--she wasn't subtle out the window, and she'd ensured they knew what she was waiting for. 

The werewolfess entering the restaurant causes the low din to die down for a moment. Emily's pace slows just a moment, and she takes it in. That momentary pause when all the eyes were on her was what she lived for.

Lanie's nose is clearly taking it all in as well in a different way: the smells of many more humans, the expensive perfumes and colognes they don, and fine food. Its the last thing on the list that causes the dog to salivate, which could have been hidden if she wasn't holding a metal pen in her mouth. Emily similarly takes a deep breath of all of the scents of the room and looks around it, taking in the subtle array of colours that her thermal vision showed. 

The werewolfess makes polite greetings to the hostess, following along to that spot that put them in the most spotlight possible. They wound up at a table by the window in short order, seats having been prepared. One reinforced for Emily's... weight, the other at the right height for a dog to eat from the table. Money really did smooth over all issues. People who would take issue with having a werewolf and a dog eat at their restaurant tended to agree incredibly quickly when you had both a name and money.  

The dog and the werewolf taking their seats as two equals a somewhat magnified effect, prompting glances and whispers from the patrons within the dining space as well as outside beyond the glass walls. While the hostess, servers, chef, and cooks are prepared for them, the fellow guests are not. The slightly higher than usual seat is a nice touch, the dogtor thinks as she easily hops up onto it. However, being higher up and seeing the nearby tables full of plates, cutlery, and stemware prompts Lanie to stare, ears up and head slightly tilted in confusion. She didn't think this through all the way.

Emily smiles a bit more as she can hear those whispers, see the looks in from outside, and then asks her question.  "Do you drink?"

The question hijacks Lanie's train of thought. "Um, no wine as that's basically dog poison. Mixed drinks, like, really depend on what's mixed into it. I can probably handle a small amount of beer. Probably." Maybe. She really isn't sure. And a fancy place like this probably doesn't even serve beer. And she doesn't even know if she likes beer.

She nods. "Mm. Wasn't sure if you had the same weaknesses as a normal dog. I mentioned it to the chef, and.." She smiles to the hostess as she approaches carrying a tray. A whiskey for Emily, and... she leans in somewhat, to read the label on the can. A canine pale ale, for Lanie, in a bowl. "Figured we should stay on the safe side."

"That works for me!" Lanie replies, relieved that there is a viable solution (and something other than water that she can drink). 

The hostess, after setting the tray down, holds up a cellphone. "May I take a picture?"

"Um..." The mildly drooling dog glances from the hostess (who based on her heart rate is clearly attempting to contain her excitement) to Emily and swallows. This is probably going to get a lot of views online, but that's what she wanted, right? After all, the scientific study ushering in her Illumination is due to be published any day now. "... yeah, that's fine." 

Emily smiles. "Excellent. Of course!" She takes her whiskey, and is happy to pose for a few pictures as the hostess takes a few pictures.

After... "Are you ready for the food, or..."

"A few minutes, please. We'd just like to talk."  

"Of course." They are left alone.. ish, by the window, so many eyes on them. "So! Why Cryptolink?"

"Your website offers something no one else does," the dog answers. "Peer recognition. I'm about to be Illuminated via the scientific community as a Sapient dog who can rapidly cure many people's mental health conditions at range, but that's different from joining an online community of fellow supernaturals. Your platform also makes me available to the public--well, a portion of the public: the subscribers. That's worth it to me and far better than putting up ads on, like, Facebook or Craigslist or having my own website that someone could backtrack to my handler."

Emily nods slightly, and smiles. "Well. I'm happy to offer peer recognition for you." She pauses a moment, considering at the mention of mental health conditions. "I'm pretty sure I can confirm that you're a supernatural... so, we can set up a profile for you for free and such. Bring you into the fold. Is there any questions you have for me?"

"A few, yes... for starters, I'm interested in not only outing myself to the world but also developing a near-constant online presence where people can watch 'a day in the life' basically as I go about my work visiting hospitals and shelters and prisons. This is part of a dual strategy to become more famed and also dis-incentivize kidnapping attempts. If everyone knows where I am all the time, I'll be both easier and more difficult to steal than if I were to take a more subtle, private route. That means a lot of streaming and content creation and hopefully a lot of subscribers. To that end, what is the percentage split of a single OkCryptid fee between the website and the Cryptid? Like, who gets how much, and is there a maximum cap?" 

Emily nods. "We can do that. A number of our OkCrypid profiles are those 'a day in the life' formats.' And.. well, you're joining our family with this. If someone does kidnap you... well, an attack against one Cryptid is an attack against all of us. But yes, I hope you get a lot of subscribers! Currently, we're looking at fifteen percent towards maintaining the platform. No maximum cap, but we feel the percentage is very fair."

The dog seems pleased by Emily's statement that the community of Cryptids would support her in a kidnapping--well, at a minimum maybe Emily--and "support" is vague. Lanie had seen the matching fundraiser for the recent hate crime victim as well as the werewolf's formal statement speaking against it. Both are forms of support, but neither would be solutions to being dognapped. Still, the thought counted. However, her ears flick back for a moment when Emily shares the percentage amount. "Fifteen? Hmm ... I'll confess that did a little research beforehand. Twenty or twenty-five percent sounds more fair, I think, especially for someone who's going to entirely donate the funds to, like, animal welfare organizations and children's hospitals." That's the truth; while the dog likes the idea of being flush with cash, she has no legal way of holding onto it.

The wolfess tilts her head to the side slightly. "To clarify, you're offering us an extra ten percent?"

"Wha--oh you meant the other way around?" The dog looks incredibly confused.

Emily laughs some.  "Yes, fifteen percent towards maintaining the platform.  That leaves eighty five percent towards the Cryptid - namely you.  Although I understand this is all after taxes and government mandated fees, which is typically around twelve percent of gross, I believe - although that's clear as a line item when a subscriber signs up." Meanwhile, a server delivers an array of small plates to the table beside theirs, pulling away the dog's gaze for a moment as she salivates a bit more (and the guests and pedestrians continue to stare at the two creatures casually conversing). Emily smiles as the plates are delivered, and she can see Lanie's distracted by them.  She holds up her paw, and then requests their plates as well for next. "Although, if you're offering us seventy five percent, I won't say no."  She laughs again.

The dog chuckles too, a bit awkwardly. "Uh, that's kind of you, but I'll stick with the original offer!" Emily's motion for their food to be brought causes Lanie's tail to wag quickly. "Eighty five percent is perfect! ... Since you had already said I was in, like, even before meeting up for dinner, I spent the last week working on my pitch--my introduction to the world via CryptoLink, I mean. Can I run it by you and get your thoughts on how it could be improved? This is sort of new territory for me." She had pitched herself to Minerva's school, but that was to advertise her mental health services to a bunch of rich parents, not herself to the whole world.

And then the dog receives a moldy envelope inexplicably buried in the salad with a mysterious invitation to another Contract. She quickly excuses herself, apologizing profusely for having to suddenly leave.

-------

All Along

A view from the full-spectrum Mark on the custom collar that Dominic made for Lanie, which the dog forgot had been marked all along. Indeed, the paranoid hacker genius checked on her twice a day, as he did all of his Marks.

Hour 24: The muffled robotic voice reporting to "Mother." She briefly summarizes the Contract. The container is opened and the Samoyed's carcass is presented to an older (?) woman dressed in a lot of black flowing garments. They both agree that she is most likely chipped, especially being a celebrity dog, and the robot girl checks the body over with a metal detector. She finds no chips. Mother concludes that they should give it a week or two grace period for someone to show up and collect the body. She tells the girl to take it down to the freezer. 

The girl takes the body down to a climate-controlled room, incongruous with the rest of the house, and wraps the body in clear plastic sheeting, placing it on a pull-out tray in what looks like a large, industrial freezer. The only other item of note in the room is a jar of yellow liquid, in which a handful of what look to be submerged boba pearls.

The girl quietly thanks Lanie for helping her mother be less sick someday, if nobody shows up. The pull-out tray is pushed in, and it clicks shut.

Hours 19-24: Darkness. Ice cold. Damp. Surrounded. A 5-hour flight in a plane--from the muffled sound of the engines it's an expensive one. No clinking of other bags/bins. No chatter can be heard.

Hour 19: The muffled instructions via a monotone, mechanical voice to head home.

Hour 17: Transferring the dog body from what is apparently a black duffle bag into a large expensive cooler half-filled with dry ice. This reveals that the person handling the body is basically a 4-foot porcelain doll (mildly in the uncanny valley based on those eyes) wearing a maid outfit. 

Hour 16: Bumps. Breaking. Gravel and dirt under slow-moving tires. A car ride down a mountainside beginning with instructions via a monotone, mechanical voice to take them to the private airport.

Hours 12-14: A Contract where the dog clearly states that she has been cursed and the curse is rapidly killing her, so they need to move quickly. It eventually progresses to where the robot girl needs to carry her around in a bag, because she cannot walk anymore--both of her paws have withered to useless dead flesh. The dog eventually stops talking, her last words gently, desperately asking them to move faster. However, the other two teammates only sort of hustle from one location to the next.

Hour 12: The dog hops out of a Uber car in the forest of Virginia, coughs up the GPS tracker that Dominic had given her (it had originally been built into the collar but she later decided it would be better to store it internally), buries it, and then soon meets up with a short robot girl and a bald woman wearing a beanie with every cancer ribbon patch on it. The robot girl carries a duffle bag. The woman wears boots and a trench coat and carries a backpack. Her irises are red and silted like a snake's. They introduce each other and debrief on the mission. This is clearly a Contract. 

Hours 5-12: The dog traveling via dog crate in the cargo portion of a plane and then getting a ride into the forest of Virginia.

Hour 4: The dog is having dinner with Emily Miller, the famous werewolf and founder of CryptoLink, at a nice restaurant in Seattle. They are discussing CryptoLink profits and profile setups. Then the dogtor gets a mysterious moldy letter informing her of her next job. She quickly excuses herself, apologizing profusely for suddenly having to go.

Hours 1-4: Walking the streets of Seattle with Sierra, doing some shopping. Occasionally panting, which is the cue that the dog and her "owner" are conversing. Her tail wags swiftly.

Done

On a luscious hillside, a dog happily chases after butterflies and field mice. A cool breeze rustling of the tall grass and wildflowers sends up small clouds of little bugs that soon re-settle. A frail Chinese woman looking to be in her forties wearing sweatpants and a worn, faded t-shirt with straight dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail approaches several yards away. "Melody?" she asks with a mix of shock and awe.

"Mom!" Lanie declares before racing over to her and jumping up excitedly (being careful not to scratch or knock her down). The woman laughs, overjoyed as she drops down to her knees and embraces the white fluffy dog. The dogtor leans into it, head on her shoulder. Her tail has never wagged faster.

After a long moment, the woman pulls back and looks her in the eyes. "I didn't expect you so soon." This makes the dog swallow. Her ears go back flat, and her tail goes still.

Speaking in a low tone, Lanie looks her in the eyes and answers, "I--I wasn't done... I wanted to change the world..." Her black eyes are glossy, and she blinks out tears that stream down her muzzle. Do dogs cry? This one does.

Her mother embraces her again, tighter this time. "You did, honey, I promise you did. And now you're done."

-------

Release

Lanie opens her eyes and sees McKenna's fat forehead (as she brings the watch closer to her face). "Hello...? Can you hear me, Lanie?"

"Talking to the dead again, McKenna?" The dog says lazily, a tone the woman hasn't heard her talk in before, as she looks up at the Occultist. Then she yawns and glances around. She isn't wearing a collar, doesn't have a pen in her mouth, and there are flowers and plant matter and dirt mussing up her white fluff. In fact, one small yellow daisy is precariously about to fall off her her head, the stem sort of caught behind the ear.  "Uh, why a giant crocodile floating through space?" 

"it's a little selfish of me to call you back from the veil, I know... I just needed to know if you were ...happy?" She looks a little distraught but determined. "I don't really know you that well, but you've helped a lot of people, so I'd like to pay that forward even in death." She pauses, satisfied with her answer but also confused. "What's this about a crocodile though?"

The familiar female voice with a West Coast accent answers calmly, professionally, "If it's part of your grieving process, then I'm happy to support it, although I'll monitor you for unhealthy tendencies--like being unable to let go of the deceased, like, if you make a habit of it." A pause. "I'm currently on the back of a massive reptile floating through space. I'm guessing you've pulled me here with that blood watch. Interesting choice ... Does this have to do with that deity of yours, maybe?"

"I uhh...I don't think it's a coping thing?..." She seems confused by the Dogtor's very doctory response. "A massive reptile? ... I don't think I've ever had anyone describe to me what they're seeing from death ... I don't even know a lot about my watch either; I just feel like it chose me?" She seems to shake herself out of her confusion. "I want to know more about what you're seeing but ... Do you have any last wishes at the moment? I'm not sure if I'm the first to talk to you... Haven't seen you in the real world since Molly ran off."

"That's kind of you to ask!" The dog looks pretty happy for being dead and all. "I actually already took care of it, like, on my own. Near the end I telepathically called my best friend and said what I needed to say." The dog's big snoot comes closer to the screen of the watch from McKenna's perspective, as though the dog is trying to get a good look at her. "I can't smell you, just the huge crocodile craning its neck to look over at me with your blood watch for an eyeball--and a whole lot of nothingness. But aside from the weirdness of speaking from the mouth of this thing, you sound alright ... I guess that means [SPOILER]? Molly ran off, so she survived. Is that guy okay too?"

McKenna seems relieved that the dogtor seems happy and picks up the watch in a quizzical way. "A watch for an eye ... and a giant space crocodile ... you sure you're not seeing post-death hallucinations?" She seems worried but continues. "I saw the demon thingy ... It tried taking me after ... We had the two knife pieces and were dashing towards the heart when I first saw it, and Molly was able to take care of it." McKenna seems a little hesitant. "The old man was okay. He healed our ailments and then... disappeared."

"I mean," the dog chuckles, "like, you're the one talking to a dead dog. Isn't there a saying about letting sleeping dog's lie?" A pause. "Lay?" The dog laughs, which sounds like a woman laughing but looks like dog panting with a big grin. "I'm not lying, I promise. I was napping in a field before you, uh, 'called'. So this new set up--" she looks around again at what McKenna cannot see "--is probably your doing. Anyways, I'm glad you're both doing fine now and got healed up..." Her ears go back for a moment and her tone drops as she adds, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more near the end there."

McKenna moves closer to the watch. "No! I'm sorry for not moving fast enough, I know you were hurting and we wasted so much time... And even now I'm taking your time in peace, did you want to go back to the field? I don't want too disturbing if you're doing your laying."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, McKenna," the dogtor replies gently. "We all did our best. But if you're sure you messed up, I fully forgive you. And you're not really 'taking my time'. I have a whole career--had a whole career on, like, talking to people." She goes quiet again, her gaze wandering into the distance as she thinks. "Actually, I do have something for you to do, if you're willing."

"Well I hope you're enjoying the sight from over there. What is it you need?"

"Do you have a pen and paper handy?" Lanie likewise stares back into the watch eye of the crocodile mount. "This is important."

McKenna looks to the dogtor a little embarrassed. "I may have already been taking notes, but go on. Sorry it's just ... interesting hearing your perspective"

"Oh that's fine!" Lanie nods, tail wagging. "Research--I get it. Okay, so... if, like, an intimidating ghost in a machine finds you--or a man with a covered face who's initials are only vowels demanding to know what happened... tell him that I love him. Tell him ..." her eyes get glossy and her ears go back, looking quite sad, yet her tail keeps slowly wagging "... he was the best friend a dog could ever have, and I couldn't have gotten as far as I did without him... and I believe in him. And, uh, ... I'm thankful he believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself." A pause. "Tell him I'm happy and ... I'm done now. I did enough."

"If those people you care about ever do come too me, it seems like you should tell them yourself. Is that okay? Are you okay if I call you back one last time to be able to speak to them? Or do you want your peace?"

"You can do that? Sure--but you, uh, might need to tell him the first part right away before he, like, kills you in a gruesome manner... Maybe not 'kill'--maybe just torture..."

"Oh... Is he going all John Wick around the place?" She seems worried but half joking.

"Maybe?" The dog tilts her head slightly to one side as she looks forward, visibly confused. "Who's John Wick?"

"Sorry, it was a movie I watched. A guy lost his dog and went on a killing spree for vengeance. I think if he hears you say it though, it'd bring him a lot of solace. I'm no therapist though."

"As I said, I'd be happy to if you can--" The dog pauses mid-sentence, thinking on it more. "No... I think you should say it. He probably wouldn't like the idea of you, um, 'calling' me. Sleeping dogs lie, and all."

"Doctors orders then. I'll make sure to relay the message. Thanks for talking to me, and I hope you enjoyed the conversation and sights."

"Dogtor's orders," the Samoyed cheerily corrects, having always loved the play on words that Lilith had taught her during the terrible (literal) bloodbath. Then she becomes more alert and still, adding one more thing. "Oh, also, please tell him to tell the fox that I'm proud of them."

"I will, Dogtor." She takes extra care in saying 'dogtor'. "You ready to go back now? I will add I don't know what happens when I end the connection."

"Oh! Well... for the sake of research you should call me back then--like, a minute later?"

"Sure!" McKenna has a sly grin on her face as she disconnects the call. Lanie sits there on the crocodile's back as the woman's voice coming from its maw goes silent. Unsuspecting...

The crocodile stars to rumble and rustle in unrest. It's preparing to move but doing it very lazily. After a moment, it starts doing a very slow death roll, spinning until Lanie's unsuspecting paws release from its hide. She instinctively, desperately scampers to try to hold on and transfer from it's back to it's belly, but the dog quickly loose her footing. She slips off and beings to slowly float away into the vast nothingness of space. Then the croc's regular eyes seems to return as the red pocket watch shifts back to it's left eye, with a purple-red pupil showing instead of McKenna's face. Its turns and looks at Lanie dead on, with intent... It swiftly lunges forward towards her, maw open and then snapping shut--swallowing the canine with one gulp.

The dog attempts to scamper away in vain--paws grasping at the air--and then yelps as this creature gulps her whole, so loud it's almost a squeal.

---

And then Lanie wakes up with a shock in the shade of a tree in a sunny field. A crouched middle-aged Chinese woman wearing sweatpants and a worn t-shirt has been gently nudging the dog awake. "You okay, honey?" she asks with concern. "Were you having a bad dream?"

The dog stands up on all fours and does a full body shake. This sends the little yellow flowers and grass bits on her flying off along with some excess fur. "Uh, sorta--something like that."

The woman hugs the Samoyed tightly, arms wrapping around the dog once more. "It's okay now. Everything is okay."

"Yeah, it is." The dog cheers up, the wonder of whether that was a dream or real fading away.

-------

A Good Life

Sierra gets a call from Keara moments after Lanie's death. The two women know each other. They live several blocks apart. Keara and Mel visited Lanie often during her months of illness. They also adopted the two bloodhounds recently. Choking back tears, Keara says, "Lanie ... she ... she wanted me to tell you that she loves you. And to keep the house and keep the money. And the dogs, if you want them. And to go find someone else worth protecting--or find a new thing that fills your soul. And be happy."

There is a very long quietness on the phone. Minutes even. Eventually, Sierra starts to hear Keara cry and then it cuts off, being muted. A few minutes later, the two woman are at her doorstep. The doorstep of the home that Lanie had gifted to Sierra as "payment" for her services.

Keara has clearly been crying and is about to again. Mel is stone cold, only warming a bit to tend to Keara's emotional needs. The clone hadn't gone on the journey that the dogtor had--the tearing down and the building up again and again that put Lanie more in touch with herself. They started out almost exactly the same but but by the end had greatly diverged.

With a hand motion, Sierra is wordlessly invited by Keara to join them in a hug. The woman accepts. The now unemployed bodyguard takes the role of rock for the time being. She doesn't cry as far as the two women can see, not for a couple days at least. She also makes Caribous for everyone, something they had enjoyed in the past together (the dog taking only a single taste). She doesn't take an incoming call about five minutes later. That can wait.

---

The Principal of Faraday reaches out to Sierra Tomason to inquire about Lanie's whereabouts. The initial call is about ten minutes after Lanie's death, but Sierra calls her back several hours later.

Wolstenholme asks if Lanie has a specific cause that she would want money donated to and who her next of kin is. She is careful, though. She doesn’t want to be the one who breaks the news to Sierra--not her place--so her questions would start vague, perhaps about another visitation.

Narration

Although Ish'ta was lost in writing, he was keenly aware of what was happening to Lanie. Reading her story, he would seem almost saddened. After all, he couldn't control the story, and edits could only be made with the permission of the person he was writing about ...

As it would keep going and the pages would fill with words, lines of stress, mixed with tragic sadness. He would sigh but watch as even as her story looked to be close to an end. Then he began reading about those who would do everything for her--her friends who seemed to wish to change the ending. However, in this moment he would realize something. Dreamer wasn't here. "Jessica..." His voice echoed and seemed to reach Dreamer as he called out. There was something he needed to tell her. 

It takes a while, but never too long for Jessie to reach Ish’ta, her steps losing her silence just as she enters his sights. “Yes, Ish’ta?”

Ish'ta would see that she was coming into his little area and would no sooner take the book that he had and push it close to Dreamer. For her she'd see a large book around the size of a normal window pane. The words seemingly write themselves, reforming into whatever language she could understand on an almost meta level. It would be here that Ish'ta would state, "Your previous guest Lanie has passed. Her story is coming close to it's end ... or so it seems." If she looked down at the book, she could literally read what was happening right now, that it was well past the point where the canine could be saved. It was also showing how all of her friends were reacting to the news. Almost on que, it would soon read Dreamer's own reaction to said news, as if she were now in the story.

“And how are you taking this? I know you had grown close in the period she spent here to train Knight.” The book would note her shifting concern, avoiding thinking on Lanie’s death for just a moment to focus on the wellbeing of the friend in front of her.

Ish'ta would seem jaded by this, both looking to hide a bit of his reaction but also seemingly understanding of why it all happened. "Her story isn't a tragedy. It should inspire some hope and promote some change for those who read it. However for myself..." He paused and would no sooner add, "I have a final question for her that will be answered once the book is done being written. As the writer, all of my books must be finished, so this will not be the last I will speak of her." The Coyote didn't elaborate how or what he could even do, but he did seem to be rather mellow, if not just sad. He wouldn't outright say he was that way, but it was clear in his eyes, "I will be fine, however. I felt it best to tell you in case you wished of something from me."

Jessica steps over to Ish’ta, leaning against his side, silent in that way only she is for just a moment. Eventually, she will come to a decision. “I wish to add her to the mural of you and the others.”

Ish'ta wouldn't say anything, just reading as more of the words in the book filled out, detailing his true emotions better than anyone could say. Even retelling his reclusiveness as narration, it was enlightening to be shown in this respect. Feeling Jessica next to him, he wouldn't pull away. Really, he was happy to have someone close by for a bit, but he wouldn't let sadness overcome his emotions. As she mentioned the mural, he would look up for a moment and simply say, "Yes, I'd like that a lot. Thank you, Jessica." It was the first time he gave a genuine thank you to Jessica; normally he'd act a little pompous and show minor gratitude, but just like the words on the page, his gratitude betrayed his true feelings. Every word typed here would appear in the book to display that he truly meant it.

-------

A Good Soul

With her full name and birthday in hand, David Vance 'calls' Lanie. It rings for a long time for the modern era, maybe a full minute or two. The connection is there though, and it doesn't go to voicemail (if that's even possible).

Once the call goes through, David at first hears only faint static like a radio with no signal. Then intermittent periods of louder bits comes through, like someone's trying to say something but it's replaced by simply more static. And then finally, with some breathlessness, "H-hell?--oh!" A tone of surprise from the female voice that David knows as Lanie. She didn't talk much publicly during their job together, not until the very end when the team parted ways, probably because she hadn't gone public yet. An openly talking dog would have certainly gotten some attention at that event, at least before everything went to shit. "Uh--okay then." In a tone that's quite louder than before, the dead dog then declares, "If you can hear me, Mom, I'm fine!" And then more quietly and professionally, "Hello? Who am I speaking with?"

“It’s … David. We only met briefly … that [SPOILERS] job. I’m sad to hear you passed. You seemed like a good soul. Your friends asked me to speak with you. They want to know … your last wishes, as they were. Any last words you’d like to leave for the world. Whether you’d want to be brought back, in a fashion. But I know that’s a lot to take in so just … breathe, and take things one step at a time. I’ll be with you every step of the process. You might be passed, but you’re not without a friend.”

"Hello, David!" Now Lanie sounds ... cheery? Energetic too. She definitely doesn't sound like she needs breathing exercises. "Before I answer your question, I want to note that your bedside manner is excellent. If you ever come across a woman with red-slit eyes and a special watch on a job, consider giving her some tips for interacting with the deceased--uh, not that I had any trouble with her, but it might make her experience more pleasant. That being said, which friends specifically are you in touch with? I, like, have a lot of friends..." Should she have said 'had'? Lanie's not sure. They're still her friends, even now. If she could do anything for them in the afterlife, she would.

“From what they told me at least Liam and Lilith, and I suspect a few more as well. Liam is a good friend of mine, so … I trust him. Liam wouldn’t do you wrong.”

"Liam I've heard of, and Lilith I know and trust ... but I don't think she's in touch with the couple of people I have a few final words to pass on to, although I'd like to thank her for--wait, 'brought back'? Like, how much time has passed since I died?" There is clear confusion in her voice, but the topic itself seems to be casual enough.

“Just a few days … I think. They reached out to me pretty urgently. As for uh … brought back … you have a few options for that, if it’s a thing you’re interested in. I could allow you to talk to people through the phone, like this. That’s Option A. For Option B, I could bring you back for about 8 hours, for one last ride on Earth. After that, you would pass away again, though. And for Option C … you could become part of Liam’s coterie, the ghosts which follow him. It’s a way of staying in the world, though you wouldn’t exactly be going on many more jobs. Those are the options I’m aware of, anyways. I’m always trying to find a way to make better ones, but this is where my research has taken me, so far. How does that all … sound to you?”

"Oh! Uh... " The call goes quiet for a long moment. "To be honest, I didn't think that any level of bringing me back was possible outside of the one-minute resurrection window--something I had done a bit of research on for--well, uh, it doesn't matter now... For Option A, I would probably be here, like, in the dark compressed void talking to a voice coming at me from everywhere while you spend your time and energies letting someone else talk to me--I'm assuming you'd be the medium of sorts. That... doesn't sound all too pleasant nor sustainable. I preferred being where I was before you called over this--although it beats being on the back of a massive space crocodile that wants to swallow me whole." She chuckles and then doesn't expand further on that last part. "... Not sure if I can heal anything this way either; how's your mental health?"

“Ah, apologies for that. Most I’ve discussed with were in some kind of Between. I don’t think I’ve pulled anyone from a better place before. So I hope this isn’t too … unpleasant for you. My mental health is fine, but if I were to bring you back, I don’t think you’d be able to heal anyone either, in your usual way. My ‘resurrections’ haven’t been able to bring people back with all that much of their supernatural power, at least not yet. I’m working on figuring out why; it’s a breakthrough on my list.”

"No worries at all," the dead dog says reassuringly. "That explains why your opening line was so compassionate." A pause. "I'm glad you're feeling well at the moment! ... I'm, uh, not sure if I want eight hours to roam the Earth one final time, empowered or not. While there's value in having the chance to say my goodbyes and express my gratitude myself..." Lanie's tone becomes more serious, "I don't know if, like, I want to die a second time. Not that I have any fear of death--I'm pretty sure it'll put me right back where I was before you called--and that place... that place is lovely..." The way she says it, it's almost from a place of utter peace and joy. "But I'm sure it's been a hard couple of days for my friends as they begin the grief process. I don't have a desire to reset that clock and grieve them further."

“That’s … very fair," David affirms. "One day, I hope that process will be better, that I’ll be able to truly bring people back for good. I owe my own son that much. You were kind … one day if you were interested, if I could ever make that series of breakthroughs … I’d be willing to bring you back for good … on a condition. The condition being that you retire, stay out of the game for good and live a peaceful life. If you died out there well … you weren’t the sort to go through that suffering. And I wouldn’t want to put you through it again.”

"That's kind of you, and yes, that makes total sense." There's another long pause. "Can you tell me a little more about the Option C? I've never met Liam, but I know from the news that he has expertise in ghosts. How long does that last? And do you know if a ghost of his would still have their supernatural abilities? Because if I return, there are some things I'd like to do that I didn't get to--the whole reason why I've accepted these jobs in the first place--what I died for."

“Yeah I can. Liam’s ghosts last as long as they want to … they can fade whenever they wish. Or as long as the object they bind themselves to remains in this world. Their supernatural abilities do return, in part. I was only able to be healed myself due to the efforts of the spirit of the venerable Dr. Rhea. So yes, I think there is a good chance you as well could heal people.”

"That sounds promising! Now, um, one thing I was worried about while alive was being kidnapped for my abilities--a 'golden goose' situation. If I'm bound to an item, it seems like I'd be pretty easy to steal... I suppose it could be a large item though--and hopefully a durable one."

“I think Liam would rather die than let some goon steal you. He cares for his people.”

"Liam is a Contractor, right?" It's an assumption--not all supernaturals are Contractors, after all. But if he's dealing with ghosts and networked with Lilith and David, the odds are high.

“I haven’t heard many people call us that, but yes. He’s a job worker. A Jarhead. A High Roller. The term I heard that one man use…an Aspirant. I’ve worked with him before.”

Speaking matter of fact, the dog says, "One of us then, which means that the odds are high that he's going to die." She sighs. "That's the way of this profession for most, it seems. That's why I was going to quit after a few more jobs. I already have--had (?) everything I need to change the world, like, in the ways that I was intending to, I mean. But I wasn't yet strong enough to keep myself safe from the dangers that would come from making myself known to the public. And I'd rather not have to pull on others for a rescue if I can help it; they have their lives to live, and I've literally spent mine. Better to be self-sufficient, whether here or there." Another pause. "Do you think I could be, like, bound to a place?"

“Yes, I think you could be. If I remember right, Rhea was bound to an ambulance. But if you’d prefer, your house or something along those lines, I’m sure it could be arranged.”

"That might be more sustainable. That is, it's harder to run off with a house than, like, a pendant or a silicone dog toy. And, like, aside from a demolition job or, uh, a bomb... or a fire... Maybe land counts as a place? I don't know--someplace durable. And outside. If I'm going to be in one spot for a long time, I'd prefer it have lots of nature ... And not put anyone I love in danger." For a moment, Lanie envisions herself running through the forests again, like when she had visited Abbas's hideout in the now burned forests of Michigan. The smells, the crunchy leaves, the sounds of bugs and little critters and birds all around. All of the stuff that made her afterlife so heavenly. "Oh." Her tone becomes somber. "But, like, no one else could touch me, right? And I won't be able to touch anything else--incorporeal and all."

“Indeed. You’d be incorporeal. Unable to touch or be touched. You could still see the world, though, and talk with people. If you wanted to ‘live’ a quiet life with your family, the people you care about, I don’t think you’d risk putting them in too much danger. Hell, most people wouldn’t even be able to see you.”

The affirmation that Lanie's spirit-form would be touchless causes her heart to sink. Touch is very important to her, but she hasn't given up on the idea yet. "Actually, I have something else in mind--I'd like to do what I was about to do right before I died."

“And what was that?”

"Free mass therapy sessions, removing the negative impacts of Ghoul Fever, childhood traumas, and many other mental health issues--setting people free to live their best lives... It is different now, though. Before, I felt like I had to do that--and that drove me to accept job after job, despite the risks. Now ... now I'm okay with staying dead, at peace. I am who I wanted to be--who I always was--and I already made a difference, even if it wasn't at the scale or in the way I had intended to. So if I come back, like, I want it to be on my terms. I want to be happy and safe and independent and keep making the world a better place... because--" Lanie's voice drops to a whisper, as though the words are a secret or a confession or simply hard to say. "--I deserve that."

“Well you could do that, certainly … you could be set up in a house and bring in members of the public. You just might want to set up in a place that’s not where your family lives, so that they aren’t brought to any risk by the general public, and instead only visit you occasionally.”

The dog listens. Nodding feels uncomfortable in this Between space, as though she's practically immobilized in a thick pitch black mud all around. Still, this is an important conversation that she's grateful to be having. "Given that I'd like to cure whoever's willing to come to me--and quite possibly the whole world--I'll probably need a bigger space than a house. So ... how about you tell Lilith and Liam--uh, do you have something to write this down with?" 

“I’ve got some paper and pen … I journal, sometimes. Gimme just a sec. you hear the sounds of office shuffling. Got it.”

"Thanks. So, I'd like to come back only under certain conditions. First, I'm only interested in coming back as a ghost: Option C. That will let me do what I want to do. Second, I want to be bound to a location that's, like, outdoors in nature that's beautiful--has the four seasons, I mean--and is easily accessible to the public and that won't be, like, easily destroyed... maybe a mountain or something? Maybe somewhere with a natural amphitheater? I don't know. Lilith can figure it out. Third, I, uh, want someone to be able to, um, touch me. I think if I don't have someone with me who can, like, give me a hug once and a while or scratch behind my ear I might ... my soul might fade away even if I'm still there. Maybe Liam knows a ghost human who'd be interested in having a pet dog and living in nature with me? I don't think it would be ethical to bring back a non-Sapient dog... That one doesn't have to be figured out right away, but when I'm thinking about my long-term health--for years and years--it's very important to me." A pause. "Does all of that make sense?"

Yet something nags at the dogtor's mind. She knew she was going to miss Ish'ta, but how could she both see him and be available to heal the public? It wasn't as though she could draw the masses to the Library; that was supposed to be a safe haven for Contractors. Maybe he could visit her--although he'd have to be disguised. The whole reason why he was there was to stay safe and yet not be bored nor lonely, similar to her own present goals. Or, at the very least, maybe she could talk to him long distance if Dreamer gave him a phone or using Dominic's pen... "WAIT," Lanie declares suddenly. In contrast with the cool calculative approach she had taken just moments before, her heart now pounds and she talks quickly, excitedly: "Are you still in touch with Dreamer?" Even if he wasn't, she could still proceed with half of the new plan and figure out the rest later, post-revival.

“I’m … calling you from the Library, so yeah, I’d say I’m still in touch with Dreamer,” David answers.

"Oh perfect! In that case, would you be willing to ask her if she'd mind me living there for a while--a long while? Uh, like, as a ghost."

“I will, yes, just give me a minute.” After about a minute David returns to the line. “Dreamer would love to have you reside in the Library. You would be welcome there.”

Lanie tries to nod again and her tail sort of wags--and is again uncomfortable from the restraints of the Between all around. "Wonderful! Now please ask her--um, like, actually... can I talk to Ish'ta for a moment?" This is a questions she must ask herself.

“Yes." David heads to the adjoining room that he remembers from his last time here looking for Ish’ta, phone in hand. As he looks around, he sees that there is a section in the library cordoned off. As he approaches, he hears a voice speak to him. "Yes?..." Almost as if they knew they were coming but also that he could feel them approaching. Inside, he would see the two-story tall Coyote looking down at him, laying on his stomach with a massive quilt on his back.

David approaches, phone in hand, and puts the phone on speaker. “One of the passed wishes to speak with you, if you would be kind enough to oblige.”

Nodding, Ish'ta pulls his eyes away from the book. The book is the size of a stain glass window, and it is writing out something automatically in what appears to David to be English. In fact, he can see that it is actively writing about him walking into the room. "Lanie, I see my predictions about speaking to you again hold true."

"Ish'ta." There's weight in how Lanie says his name. "I, um ... I ..." She musters up the courage, the same boldness with which she asked him for sleepy cuddles just a few weeks past. "I know we haven't known each other very long, but I also know that ... that you know me from beginning to end--every life I've lived and died, formed and given away for the benefit of someone else. And, like, to me ... it feels like I know you too--yet at the same time I don't know you at all--because there's so much more to know." Hopefully this was making sense as the dead dog plows forward nervously. She has never done this before, and she will never do it again. "I-I want to keep you company for the rest of your days, however many that may be. I want you to never be lonely again. I don't know what to call it in human terms--if there is the right word for it. In dog, I think ... I think I want to be a part of your pack. If you'd let me, that is ... I-I'd be honored." The voice on the phone sniffles as tears start to well up in her eyes and stream down her muzzle. "H-heaven isn't e-enough ... like, because you're not here."

As Lanie talks, David continues to see the words appear on the page of the massive book. David, for his part, keeps his silence. This is not his moment; he is just the medium.