"Righty-o!" Troy said, carrying the tub. Making sure the refridgerator was closed (one wouldn't want the food to spoil), he followed Trish.

He actually liked the Butler. So far, he seemed to be more sane than the rest, though he had a lot of baggage. Really, a ranting butler was at least better than one that killed you in your sleep, and Jenkins didn't seem to be one of those people.

Unless, of course, he was one of those badass ninja butlers, but the man didn't appear to have that kind of skills. Then again, that could speak volumes of how awesome he was.

Hmm...best to remain careful.

Peering over his sister's shoulder to read the message, he gulped down another spoonful of his desert/breakfast. "Hey, I've been meaning to point something out to you, Sis.

"You do realize that there's an ID that comes along with the message, right? All we have to do now is figure out who NOT TASK MALBEN is, and we can track him down!"

HOMEWORK IS FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE THE INTERNET!

The answering text read, this time labeled "Faze Kings Saki"

Laurella sighed and put her top back, making sure it was good and secure. Then she dropped down into the pool and helped get Harm's head above water.
"Sorry, Harm. About the strike and the chair. Are you all right?"
She took a good look at Harm's face. Her expression became suspicious. "You better not be pretending to drown on me. You won't be getting mouth-to-mouth from me. More like foot-to-testicles, and not the good kind of foot-to-testicles, either."
The Mother of Hell smiled impishly. "Unless...you actually like that kind of foot-to-testicles, too. Man, you're just plain twisted, aren't you Harm?"

Stacey rose up slightly and turned on the stereo. It had just started playing "Stacy's Mom.".

A Good Conversation OR Papercut
 

Rick went to the Citadel. He wasn’t that curious, as his handlers had brought him to the gate before. Most of his previous visits were while he was under the effects of the sigil on his back. The Citadel still had the same feel, that dark corrupting sensation. It wasn’t nearly as pronounced while one could be distracted by the visual aspect of it, but when blind, it was something nightmarish. This was Rick’s second time “seeing” it, and it still antagonized him.

But that’s not why I’m here. Rick had some words to exchange. He took a walk into the nearby tainted forest. He knew they were here, he could feel them.

Shori.

Shori dropped down from the treetops. Mornin' Rick

Rick could barely contain his anger. Permission to speak freely. He growled

Nah, I know your question. “Why?” It was a tes-

Rick advanced toward Shori, fists clenched. How many others already knew? Was that not a waste of time? Resources could have been bett-

Shori threw up his hands. Hold up. I said no to your request. He glared back at Rick. What happened to that discipline?

Rick restrained himself and bowed his head. I apologize.

You better Shori smirked. There are reasons for the deception. We want you to be well trained in maintaining an alternative identity. How much longer do you think she has before someone succeeds in killing her? You know that we won’t allow the alternative, and Hell is persistent. Rick, you have to be ready for your next mission, so we don’t want you getting all rusty and complacent. Shori turned away for a second, looking toward the Citadel. He started to laugh. And you know me, Shori held up his cell phone, with a picture of Rick on it, it’s that look of dawning realization that I live for!

Rick shook his head and muttered I’ll get you for that.

Perhaps, but for now, you have to get back to the group. I’m sure there are some “Protectors” that are capable of helping you.

Rick walked past Shori, who grabbed his shoulder.

…and focus Rick, Shori lectured seriously, you can do much better then you have been. I’ve seen you when you are focused. With that little trinket they gave you, you can be very scary. And these guys are going to need all the help they can to continue this ‘Humanitarian’ mission of theirs. A normal life? For The Mother of Hell? What a fricken joke. We know that. I hope they know that. But for now, we will respect “The Powers that Be”.

Shori released his hold on Rick. You are Rick for all these society types, but at school, you are still Rob Smith. Don’t forget your homework! I don’t even want to imagine what “The Powers that Be” will do to you if you fail!

Rick returned to the Citadel, a little taken aback by Shori’s speech. Me, scary? Was that really Shori? Rick looked impatiently toward the rest of the group. Well, what are we waiting for?

"GENIUS." Trish said, raising a fist in victory. "Ninja tracking skills rule all."

Jenkins had directed them upstairs, where they found breakfast waiting for them.

"Oh, I could get used to this," Trish said as she looked at the food, thinking about the slightly stale Cocoa Puffs that were her breakfast yesterday.


Okay. Now to find this Kings/Faze/NOT TASK MALBEN!/Thiefy1! person.

YOU THINK YOU'RE SO COOL. WELL, I'LL BET YOU DON'T GET ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST!! she typed. HA!

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. It was that kind of gum that for some reason wraps each stick first in a layer of foil, and then in a small rectangle of white paper which seems to serve no actual purpose. Trish pulled off the useless white part and started scribbling on it with a stub of pencil.

About five minutes later the sigil was complete, and Trish began to fold the paper as she ate breakfast.

An important health message.
 

I COULD, BUT THEN I'D GET SICK SO MUCH LATER IN THE DAY WHEN I'M TRYING TO DO SOMETHING. YOU'RE ESSENTIALLY BREAKING YOUR FAST WITH A RUSH OF SUGAR THAT WILL QUICKLY DISSIPATE, AND EVEN MORE QUICKLY BECAUSE YOU'VE JUST QUICKSTARTED YOUR METABOLISM. EAT SOME BREAD!

It was true. Task had eaten ice cream regularly for breakfast before the old people made him eat only rich people food, and then his trainer had him eat health food. And then, his acrobatic trainer had him visualizing eating food.

It was a sad, sad life. But hey, at least he still could get steak and eggs in bed from time to time.

Michael had decided it was not worth it to go to the Citadel. For one, he had already seen the Citadel once when he was still in training, so it he did not feel it entirely worthwile. Two, he wasn't comfortable leaving Laurella out of his sights so soon after a major attack like they had experienced before.

So in consequence, Michael found himself stationed on the grass near the pool, cross legged with himself turned towards Laurella, a notebook on his lap and his portable computer at his side.

At the start of Harm's antics, Michael had been tracing a variety of sigils into his notebook, contemplating the various combinations that could transform two or more weak or moderate spells into devastating combinations. In all cases though, he noticed a flaw I'm only good for containment or slowing someone down at the moment, none of my magics have destructive capabilities. I think I could use some munitions, I wonder how SECA would respond to my request.

Then Harm's antics got slightly self dangerous, and he knocked himself out. Michael sighed inwardly and rose up, ready to rush to Harm's assistance. However he saw that Laurella was quicker, and dragged him out of the water; though this did not stop his approach.

"I shall help Miss." Michael said as he leaned down besides Harm, grinning inwardly at Laurella's accusations. Michael first tested Harm's pulse and breathing. Finding Harm's breathing to be slightly lacking, Michael went through several non mouth to mouth rescue techniques, such as pumping the water out of his lungs.

Troy would need caffeine if he hoped to stay awake for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, he didn't drink coffee or soda, and that left him with...

Chocolate. Lots of it.

Unfortunately, it seemed they didn't serve chocolate at breakfast, and he had to make do with the ice cream. However, before his sister bit off his hand for trying to eat all of it, he relinquished it to her, and decided to dive into the more traditional morning meal.

It was strange, though, that they'd be sitting here just eating a meal, when they had been locked up last night. He made sure to thank Jenkins though.

"Ah," he said, looking out the window. "It seems that there's something going on in the pool.

"Hey - do any of them look like they were on last night's TV? They kinda look familiar."

Summary: This is just something I watched an AMV skit about, then watched the real skit about it, and then just had to make this dialogue fit between Laurella and Stacey in their own words. Please forgive me.

Laurella left Harm and Michael to their own devices and fetishes and rejoined Stacey at the patio furniture. Stacey turned down the music while Laurella dried off and sat down, opening a video game strategy guide.
Stacey turned her head to face Laurella. "Hey. Laura. Y'remember the Jetsons?"
The Mother of Hell didn't lift her eyes from the book. "What brought that up alluva sudden? Well, I haven't seen them recently, that's for sure. All we have on TV inside is porn."
Stacey blinked. "Porn? Like what?"
"I guess just anything, but it's usually taken to extremes. Like, one time I was watching these two girls go at it all hardcore and everything for two minutes."
"Hawt."
"Yep. Turned out to be a chewing gum commercial. Dave Chapelle was right. Commercials aren't even about the products anymore. Anyways, why'd you bring up the Jetsons?"
Stacey raised her head and lowered it to rest on her arms. "Well, I'm just thinking that aren't we at that point in time where we're supposed to have flying cars like they do? That's what the cartoon promised us, Laura."
Laurella finally turned her eyes away from the book and towards Stacey. "Yeah, well some of us don't use children's cartoons as a frame of reference for what we'll have in the future as far as human technologies are concerned."

A pause between their dialogue. Stacey spoke first again. "Hey."
Laurella reached in the cooler for a Mountain Dew. "Yeah?"
"What would you trade for the flying car?"
Laurella shifted ice around and fished out a can. "Whadaya mean?"
Stacey's arms were gesturing as she spoke. "Well, suppose some German scientist comes up to you and says 'I have invented the flying car. I'll give it to you on one condition'."
"What's the condition?"
Stacey's smile was a little evil. "He's not gonna tell you."
Laurella shook her head. "Then it's no deal."
Stacey put her arms back down and used them to lean up a little more. "The man is offering you the one and only flying car. Are you gonna look a gift horse in the mouth? Just take it."
"Not until I know what the catch is."
"Fine," Stacey said, laying back down. Laurella thought the conversation was over.

Nope. Stacey leaned up again. "The catch is that you're going to have to lose a foot."
Laurella almost broke out into laughter. "Pfft, no way!"
"Are you saying you're not going to have your foot cut off for the flying car? You're that selfish?"
The Mother of Hell was a little angry. "It's my foot! How'm I supposed to walk?"
"What walk? It's the flying car. Look, just get paid to let some dealerships look at it and start making flying cars of their own and then you'll have plenty of money to buy like, fifty prosthetic feet."
"...Which foot?"
Stacey shrugged. "Your choice."
Laurella paused to consider. "Okay, my left one."
Stacey's right eyebrow rose a little. "Why the left foot?"
Laurella stared critically at her long, smooth legs and the dainty feet attached at the ends of them. "I like my right foot just slightly more."

Stacey nodded. "Okay, it's a deal. You're trading your left foot for the flying car. You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You can't welch."
"I won't welch. Damn...just what kind of scientist is this guy, anyways?"
"One who has a lot of free time on his hands," Stacey said, looking thoughtful for a second. "And a foot fetish. So when you get there to make the exchange, you discover that the scientist is going to be using a hacksaw."
Laurella almost spewed her soda. "Fwat?!"
"And no anesthetic."
Laurella's expression was hilarious. "Oh, screw that!"
"Hey, it's all part of the deal." Stacey said cheerfully.
"You didn't say that before I agreed to it. It's no deal like that."
"Look, tough it out, all right? It's only a few seconds of pain and when he hacks it off, he'll use a local on your foot and cauterize the wound."
Laurella wasn't even holding the guide anymore. "Why can't he give me a local before he starts cutting?"
"Because," Stacey tried to explain with exaggerated patience. "He is a sadistic degenerate who loves inflicting pain."
"And we're sure this guy is supposed to be a scientist?"
Stacey mocked surprise. "What, you didn't think Albert Einstein liked hacking people's feet off but nobody said anything because he was one of the most brilliant minds of his time but come on, Laurella! Take the hit for the team. It's a few seconds of pain for a lifetime of countless riches and zero traffic."
"Fine!" Laurella shouted, settling it. "As long as I get the local as soon as he's done."
"You want the local?"
"Of course I want the goddamned local. You think I like pain?"
"...All right."

Laurella's face was suspicious. "Why'd you say it like that for?"
Stacey's eyes drifted off as though she was simply relating a story. "Well, when he gives you the local, it knocks you out and then he fingers your asshole."
Laurella sat straight up, staring at her best friend. "Oh, come on!"
"Hey, Laura, you made the deal."
"To trade my left foot for the flying car, not to be tortured and molested by some psychotic German scientist."
"And his friends," Stacey added.
"What?!"
"It's just when he's done with you, he gives his friends a shot at you, too."
"Deal's off!" Laurella shouted flatly.
"What're you, Miss Holier-Than-Thou?"
"No, I just don't want to have my ass fingered by some crazy German scientist and his equally freaky friends after he just hacked my foot off."
Their dialogue was getting pretty spirited. "Need I remind you that this is for the flying car?"
"It's not fuckin' worth it!"
"See? You're what's wrong with this country. Hell, with this world. You're always thinking about your own personal comfort and never about the rest of us. And for that, you'll always be remembered as the sad footnote in human history. The insufferable little bitch who could have made life so much better for us all but opted instead to cover her own ass and foot."
Laurella was on her feet now. "All right!" She shouted. "I'll go through with the fucking deal! I'll let the crazy German scientist guy cut off my foot and then he and his friends can have their way with me, all for the goddamned flying car!"

There was a pause between the two. "You'd do it with a bunch of crazy assholes just for a car?" Stacey got up and rolled her swimsuit back up over her body. "I thought I knew you, Laurella."
Here, Stacey walked into the manor, not even cracking a smile and leaving Laurella standing there, transfixed and facing the spot where Stacey was laying just a moment before. Slowly, her right hand came to her forehead. "I am so taking a shit in her birthday cake when I bake it."

Zack happened to wander by Michael's open notebook. He barely noticed the fact that Harm was having water pumped out of his lungs.

Hmmmmmmmm... I see a lot of sigils here, but none of them have any offensive use whatsoever. At least, nothing at all destructive.

He picked up Michael's pencil and scribbled a quick drawing in the margin, a design for a weak Crumble sigil. If activated and touched to a wall or ceiling, the touched surface would break down in moments. Above it, he drew a basic Earth sigil, the basis for the Crumble sigil.

Below the pair, he wrote:

Try something more like this. Combine basic sigils rather than complete sigils to unlock more destructive magic.

Zack

He slipped away from the notebook, hopefully unnoticed.