Toxic

As I look up from the sketch I've been working on for the past few hours, I notice the little blue symbol on my phone.

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: I need help. Bring gloves, and a change of clothes. This one was a bit messy}

As I see it, I sigh out loud, knowing the only thing in my apartment that could hear me is my cat, Lolita. I get up and stretch, feeling the vertebrae in my spine crackle at being forced out of their comfortable position. As soon as I do this, I see another notification.

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: As soon as you can, there's a bit of heat on me}

Within seconds, there's a reply.

{ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm sent a message: On my way. Do you want me to bring my cleaver again?}

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: Nah, not this time}

I quickly tap out a response:

{it wasn't me sent a message: I'll be there ASAP, but you owe me a pizza for this.}

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: Done. What flavour do y'all want?}

I hear more notifications pinging, but I assume it's just arguing over whether or not pineapple on pizza is an abomination. I quickly grab my phone, keys, and the go bag that sits under my desk and throw on the hood of my jacket and walk out my front door, watching the rain falling and sighing. Yelling a goodbye to Lolita as I go, I quickly lock the door to my apartment, then checking the mailbox in the lobby.

After I've done that I sprint through the rain to my car, leaping into the front seat and throwing my bag into the passenger seat. As I drive to the usual meeting spot, I think about the last time this happened. We've been working together for ages, the six of us. We had a good dynamic, each with our own moral code doing our best to stop the corruption spreading through the world.

The last time, the person I only know as ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm brought in a friend without checking with the rest of us. They seem alright, and they were certainly useful, but it always makes me anxious when we add another link to our chain.

Of course, after we'd finished tidying up the mess that >rectified< had made, ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm added them to our server, under the username It's Nothing Personal…

I kinda like their handle, I wish I'd had an idea like that when I was making mine. I suppose I could change it if I could be bothered, but I've never come up with a good enough idea to merit switching out from it wasn't me. Just then, a thunderclap breaks me out of my contemplation just in time to notice that I was about to miss my turn into the neighbourhood that we meet in. As I turn in, I can see the four cars parked in front of an old villa. It looks almost exactly like the houses next door. I recognise three of them as i_make_bodies_not_friends, >rectified< and Assault-has-many-definitions cars, but I don't know whose car the other one is. I suppose it must be It's Nothing Personal…'s, but I still take the time to put on my gloves and the mask I wear whenever I meet the rest of my server, just in case we've finally been caught out. My weapons, of course, are in their ankle sheaths as always. I'm too anxious to leave home without them, even if I know I'm going somewhere perfectly safe.

As I walk up to the door and ring the doorbell, one more car pulls up to the curb.

ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm jumps out, wearing their customary japanese fox mask.

When the door opens, it's >rectified< opening it for us to walk inside.

Their general demeanour of living a little bit off on the x axis to everyone else is just gone, and it immediately sets alarm bells ringing in my head.

When I look inside I see the full crew through the crack in the door sitting at the dining room table, clearly waiting for us.

EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist is here, which is strange. He does normally try to help us out, but he's chronically late. My anxiety level rises another couple of notches. It must be serious if EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist is here and on time. Hell, I'm on time, he was even early.

As we walk in I kick off my shoes and hang up my coat, still dripping wet onto the polished granite floors.

I walk through the imposing double doors that lead to the dining room, ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm at my heels.

The huge marble dining table in the center of the room never ceases to irritate me. It literally looks like the comically long table in movies, where there's two people at either end that have to yell to each other. The seven of us cluster up at one end, and again, my anxiety skyrockets at the fact that we're all here. If anyone knew where we are, law enforcement could come pick up the first 7 on their top 10 most wanted list, all in one fell swoop.

I pretend to drop my pen, and when I lean down to grab it I check that my throwing axes are still in their ankle sheaths.

Before I even get the chance to sit down, Assault-has-many-definitions blurts out "Were you followed?".

Again, before I get a second to react, ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm has already answered for the both of us. "Of course we weren't," she says. "Do you think we're amateurs?"

"No, but we have a situation."

"What do you mean?" I interject.

"I assume you remember our latest target? This abominable man represents everything we all fight against, and it would be a pleasure to remove him from this planet. But he's decided to go first. The police have started a taskforce to find us, and he's surrounded himself with bodyguards, guard dogs, bulletproof glass and anything else he thinks could save him." Assault-has-many-definitions says from his perch at the head of the table.

"Um, did you say taskforce?" I squeak, desperate to have misheard.

"I'm afraid so." he says gravely.

"Oh fuck." EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist said.

"Eloquent as usual." i_make_bodies_not_friends says sarcastically, waving a hand.

"So what do we do now?" I ask, my voice wavering ever so slightly.

"We go dark." Assault-has-many-definitions says authoritatively.

"We need to get as far out of the eye of this task-force as we can, and we need to do it now. Really, we should have done it ten minutes ago."

"Or instead we can take the fight to them." EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says characteristically.

"I hate to say it, but I agree." groans >rectified<.

"I'm sorry, WHAT? I yelp. "You are the least violent person in this group by absolute miles."

"So?" >rectified< answers.

"As in, you would never go for this plan?" I say quickly. "Like, ever?"

"Apparently I would!" they retort.

"But-."

"Anyway." Assault-has-many-definitions says dryly. "If you're all finished arguing, we have to decide what to do, and we need to do it as fast as we possibly can."

"So, what are we going to do?" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says, raising an eyebrow.

"It's pretty bloody simple." i_make_bodies_not_friends says. "We fight, flight or freeze."

"Fight." EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist rumbles, with no hesitation.

"Fight." i_make_bodies_not_friends drawls.

"Fight." ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm adds.

"Fight." throws in >rectified<.

"Fight." ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm murmurs.

"Fight." Assault-has-many-definitions says, face unreadable under the cowl of his blue cloak.

"Fight." I say begrudgingly.

"That's that decided then." Assault-has-many-definitions says.

"So, how are we going to do this?" EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist queries.

"We combine our skills. We each have a specialty, and we use them however possible to take out as much of the taskforce as possible." I say, as boldly as I can with my voice still shaky.

"EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist and i_make_bodies_not_friends will work together on taking down the main part of the taskforce, during the day while they work on capturing us. You make bombs, and she'll place them. I know you're sneaky enough to do it."

"Of course I can." She scoffs.

"But that only takes care of the majority of them." Assault-has-many-definitions says, eyebrow raised.

"And that's why the rest of us take out whatever we can of the dregs." I say.

"Do you have a map?" I ask Assault-has-many-definitions.

"Somewhere." he responds. "It may take me some time to find it.

"Start collecting your weapons of choice, because it's time to unleash hell."

3 weeks later.

As I look up from the drawing I've been working on for the past few hours, I notice the little blue symbol on my phone.

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: They're set}

I tap out a reply as fast as I can.

{it wasn't me sent a message: Timers are set for half an hour, yeah?}

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: Yeah, 29 minutes now though.}

{Assault-has-many-definitions sent a message: Got it. Everyone, you know what to do. Green light. Entomb our enemies}

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: Okay, leaving now. Entomb our enemies}

{EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist sent a message: I'm off. Entomb our enemies}

I quickly throw in my answer, complete with our new motto.

{it wasn't me sent a message: Going immediately. Entomb our enemies}

{It's Nothing Personal… sent a message: I've left. Entomb our enemies}

{ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm sent a message: Ready and rarin' to go :) Entomb our enemies}

{>rectified< sent a message: I'm out. Entomb our enemies}

I grab the bags under my desk, making sure I grab my usual go-bag, and the one I prepared specifically for today. I walk out the front door, making sure to lock it behind me, and yelling goodbye to Lolita as I always do. I dash through the rain to my car once again, leaping in and slamming the door behind me. While I'm safe from the rain beating down on the hood of the car, I plug the address for my target into the GPS on my phone. Once I'm sure it's directing me to the right place, I head off.

4 hours later.

As we start throwing the last few stragglers into the pit in the ground we've dug, I start to wonder whether we were too harsh.

"We didn't go too far, did we?" I say to the group in general.

"Nah, they're still alive aren't they? Replies It's Nothing Personal….

"Well yeah, but they are getting thrown into a hole, while they're tied up, and they won't get found for several hours." I say.

"We could have done much worse, just remember that." Says Assault-has-many-definitions harshly.

"You're right." I answer, sighing heavily.

"They'll be fine, this is just showing them we're not to be messed with." responds ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm "If they ignore this, then it starts to get serious."

"What do we do then?" >rectified< says.

"Whatever we can." i_make_bodies_not_friends says grimly.

{interrupted broadcast}

This comes on the heels of The Seven Devils being reported to be behind the attack on the headquarters of the taskforce that specialises in taking them down, making their efforts a laughingstock. Over a hundred employees were knocked out using a gaseous tranquiliser that our experts say resemble the same anaesthetic used in hospitals, and taken to a second location while blindfolded and tied up. These people were then thrown into a large hole in the ground and left there, although apparently The Devils called the police not long after fleeing the scene.

Luckily, there were no injuries worse than a few bumps and bruises, although one person was taken to hospital as a precaution for a concussion.

(Broadcast on Fox News, 4/4/2025)

"We've done all we can." Assault-has-many-definitions says tiredly, looking across the table at >rectified<.

"I think it's safe to resume our usual operations, but there will be media blowback." They reply quickly.

"I agree." i_make_bodies_not_friends says with a smile.

I throw down a stack of files on the table. "Last one to take out their target buys dinner." I say, grinning.

"Oh, you're on!" says i_make_bodies_not_friends, snatching up the top one and stalking towards the door as quickly as they could in heels.

Quickly we each snatch up a file and race for the door, grabbing shoes and coats and laughing like we were out to the shops rather than plotting a series of murders.

EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist peels out, tyres squealing as he rushes to be the first.

I quickly buckle into my car, flicking on the headlights as I head towards the target I had grabbed from the pile, peering into the darkness in front of me. As I drive, I consider whether I'm doing the right thing in killing this monster. On the one hand, everyone is rehabilitable, no? But also- rabid dogs are put down. Why should this animal be any different? Of course, my sense of justice wins out over my moral compass, and I check my mask is in place and my axes are in their sheaths, as I slip out of the car. I quickly head towards the hedge near the house, stopping to hide under the hedge under the guise of tying my shoe. I scan the side of the house, looking for a point of entry. From looking at the file of this guy, I can see he's divorced, ex-wife has custody of their one daughter, so there's no obvious reason anyone but him would be home. If there is, that's just pure bad luck.

There's a side door, but I discard the thought as soon as it comes to me, as there's a light with a motion sensor above it. As soon as I got close, the light would turn on and he would know something else was here. That leaves two more options- the front door or a window. The front door- no good. It has a light as well, and a doorbell camera. The windows are all sealed shut, so that's not possible either. I sigh internally, thinking I would have to do this loudly, something I hate. As I creep around the house towards the side door, I notice a small gap beneath the house, usually only there from pilings having to make the building level. But that would get me underneath the house easily… that'll do nicely. From there, hopefully there's a trapdoor to get in- I know if I were a dodgy businessman, I'd keep a secret exit just in case. I climb as silently as I can, wincing at every snapped twig and grimacing at the old cigarettes and other debris left here by the builders of this place. I clamber awkwardly towards a piece of insulation that appears slightly out of place…

I stop to listen, see if anyone is near the entrance, but it doesn't appear so. I brush away the spiderwebs and slowly push open the trapdoor, cringing internally at the squeak of rusty hinges. As I ease it open, I check one last time to make sure my weapons are where they should be. I push myself up through the trapdoor, clambering awkwardly to my feet. I hear the blaring of the TV, some inane romcom. I slip towards the open door, moving as silently as I can. I can see the back of his head from above the couch, and I bend to unsheath one of the throwing axes belted to my ankles. As I look up, I throw it as hard as I can, burying itself in the back of his skull, killing him instantly. I step forward and grab the axe, yanking it out and running towards the door. As I do, I pass a nice looking vase that would look very nice on my end table, snatching it up with my free hand as I go. As I get to the door, I start to slow down, making sure to lock the door behind me as I stroll, heart racing, towards my car. I place the vase carefully in the passenger seat footwell, and then head back towards the usual meeting place.

As I go, I notice another notification pinging from discord, so I pull over and check my phone to see if it was important. As I flip my phone over to check it, it reflects off a streetlight into my eyes, making me blink suddenly. I click open the app, quickly ignoring the pings from everything other than my server.

{i_make_bodies_not_friends sent a message: I'm hungry. We're having pizza after I win this}

{EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist sent a message: Like hell you'll win this! I'm pretty much done setting up my bomb}

I quickly tap out a response

{it wasn't me sent a message: I've already gotten my target, don't worry about trying to come first ;)}

I set down my phone and keep driving, flicking on the indicator as I turn onto the street our meeting spot is, the headlights making every shadow strange and distorted. I pull up to the curb and hop out of the car, checking my gloves and mask are in place.

I, of course, am the first person back, being the winner of our little contest. I walk up to the front door, pulling out my keys as I stand under the light of the front porch and unlocking the door. I head in, taking a seat at the disturbingly long table in my usual spot, tucking my legs up under me as I play a game on my phone as I wait. It'd barely finished loading before I hear somebody else walk in. Judging by the light tapping noises, it was i_make_bodies_not_friends, which makes sense knowing how competitive she is, she would've done everything in her path to make it back first.

"It looks like you lost" I call, not turning around in my chair to see who it is.

"Yeah, yeah, you won, well done." i_make_bodies_not_friends grumbles. "At least I was second, that's something."

"And you weren't last, which is really the aim here, no?" I reply.

"Yeah, so I'm not paying!" she says, and immediately brightens at the thought.

"Ten bucks says the next one back will be Assault" I toss over my shoulder.

"You're on" she answers "My money is on the bomb boy"

"Oh?" I say curiously. "Why's that?"

"I'm not gonna lie, Assault is more competent than Explosive, but Explosive is way more determined to get it done, he's competitive."

"You're not wrong, but I think you underestimate Assault's competitiveness." I reply idly.

As I finish speaking, the doorbell rings.

"You did hear that too, right?" She says to me.

"The doorbell? Yeah." I respond.

"Nobody ever rings the bell" She says.

I freeze. I place a finger against my lips, signalling to be quiet, and then beckon her to follow me. I walk as silently as I can down the hall, grabbing the door handle and checking it's locked, which it is.

I hold up my fingers for a countdown-

3... She bends her knees slightly, preparing to throw one of her knives at whatever is on the other side of the door

2… The light flashes off the edge of one of her curved sickles, illuminating the eerie grin of her masquerade mask

1… she pulls her arm back prepared to throw…

I yank open the door, flattening myself against the wall in order to not be attacked by whoever is on the other side, when she hesitates, recognising >rectified< with their signature attire, a green hazmat mask and whatever clothes they could find, with no care to how they work together… I must admit, individually? Their clothing game is on point. But combining pieces they simply cannot do.

From my place by the door, I see two crows flap off into the distance cawing wildly.

"You scared the shit out of us" i_make_bodies_not_friends says, doubling over with laughter.

"Gods above and below, I nearly had a heart attack" I say, shaking with silent laughter.

>rectified< looks confused, which is not unusual for them in the least- one of the smartest people I've ever met, but not really on the planet a lot of the time.

"You rang the bell," I explain. "No one ever does"

"You were wrong" I add as an aside to i_make_bodies_not_friends "Although so was I, I suppose"

"Same bet?" She says. "For whoever will be fourth?"

"Of course" I reply

>rectified< says "And what is this bet you both speak of?"

"I'm certain that Explosive will be next back, he's so competitive that he would do anything to be here asap"

She says, turning to >rectified<

"I think it will be Assault, he's competent enough to be done by now. I wouldn't be surprised if he's beaten us all here and is simply hiding in order to be an asshole" I say

"Ah, I see! I am of the opinion that It's Nothing Personal will be next back from their assignment." They say. As I always do, I wonder over their stilted language.

"What makes you think that?" I answer.

"Simply a feeling, my fellow conspirator." They answer.

"Okay then, let's see who's right." I say, turning to return to my seat at the table.

"Oh, I know we'll see my guy walk through that door any minute now" i_make_bodies_not_friends says confidently, taking a seat and tucking her heels behind her. I'm reminded suddenly of a coiled snake, just waiting to strike.

Everyone that sits in this room is dangerous, and behind the camaraderie we share, I sometimes forget how lethal they all are, and what a risk I'm taking even by sitting in the same room as them.

>rectified< walks down the hall to the room they've taken as their lab. Within minutes an acrid stench emanates from under the door, pale teal smoke wisping across the floor to complete their mad scientist aesthetic. If it were anyone else, I would say they had to be doing it on purpose, but they are plainly the personification of the mad scientist aesthetic. It's just them.

Within seconds of the door closing, It's Nothing Personal… walks through the door, ethereal and patient, moving silently and slowly to take a seat at the table without saying a word. A smile splits their face at seeing only two of us at the table, they grin and say

"Third isn't that bad at all, is it?"

"If you were third, you'd be doing well… sadly Rectified beat you here, and now I've lost twenty dollars" i_make_bodies_not_friends grumbles.

"You made bets on who would be next?" It's Nothing Personal… says, unsurprised.

"Of course we did." i_make_bodies_not_friends responds.

"And we were both wrong. Now I owe >rectified< something." I say, narrowing my eyes to slits. "I don't suppose I can convince you to leave before they realise you're here, and then let Assault beat you?"

"Not a hope in hell." they cackle.

"Goddammit" I mumble.

"You sure? We'll pay you!" i_make_bodies_not_friends says hopefully.

"Way more fun to watch you suffer" they answer grinning, before skipping down the hall to practice with their knuckledusters.

"Okay, one more try?" I say to i_make_bodies_not_friends.

"Yeah, yeah sure" she says. "Not likely we'll both be wrong again, is it"

"Not in the least-" I begin to say, before I'm interrupted by the door opening again.

We lock eyes before racing for the hallway, pushing and shoving to get there first like little kids.

It's ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm stalking in, looking incredible as always, and absolutely royally pissed at something.

"Who pissed in your cereal?" EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says, strolling in behind her.

"Some yappy little devil from hell chewed on my scarf." she says scowling.

"Of course, what did I expect from the little princess." EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist rolls his eyes and wanders down to his garage, undoubtedly to make some infernal racket with those motorbikes of his.

"Some of us have some kind of standards, unlike you." ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm calls after his retreating back.

She sweeps down the hall to her sewing room, presumably to fix or salvage the scarf.

"You win" I say resigned, to i_make_bodies_not_friends.

"Hell yeah I do! Pay up, boyo" she replies.

"Fine, fine" I hand over a twenty, and then walk down to my art studio to continue an old drawing.

As I tread down the hall, I change my mind, spinning on my heel and heading to the war room, hopping on the floorboards that don't creak, sitting down on the comfy armchair I like, and flipping open the notebook that lays in front of the seat. In this room, it's perfect for us all. It may be one shared room, but we all have designated spaces, and rarely do we squabble over seats or the like. Just sitting there, all scribbling or typing down any relevant information to our great crusade against those we consider to be evil. As I do, I hear the door open and close once more and I see Assault-has-many-definitions through the crack in the door stalking down the hall. The absolute drama of this dude, I swear. If something can be done, then it must be done in the most extra way possible.

As he walks down the hall, cloak billowing behind him. He literally built a machine just to make his cloak billow behind him. So extra.

The door opens and closes once more, and I continue writing.

After a sentence, I freeze midway through writing Thomas Tyler Whinery, feeling like my veins are filled with ice. Aren't we all here? So this must be somebody else. My breathing begins to speed up, starting to hyperventilate. This has to be somebody else- or maybe someone had to walk outside for a second and was just returning. Gods, I hope that's what it was. Do I try to alert the others, or stay quiet so I don't get hurt? Let's do both. I crouch behind my desk, messaging my server about the door. The floorboards creak, another sign that this person isn't familiar with our clubhouse. A wave of rage overcomes me, that they would dare to enter my sanctum, my safe space. I rise, unsheathing my axes as I do. I walk through the door, mask on and axes by my side, not bothering to be sneaky. I see the back of a figure, slim and short, with long plaited black hair with what appears to be glowing green rocks woven into their hair. They turn and I see the face of a woman, skin pale as a ghost, if it weren't for the dozens of luminous tattoos covering her from head to toe. She lifts her weapons, twin chains, glowing the same green as the rest of her. Without hesitation, she spins, flicking the ends of these glowing chains at me. I duck, smacking them away from me with the heads of my twin axes. Without stopping even for a second, she kicks at my knee with boots, gleaming from reinforcement with a silvery metal. I shift to the side, making her lunge ineffective, and an easier target for me. I throw one axe with all the force I can muster, winging viciously towards her head.

She swiftly throws her body to the side, smacking into the wall, the axe smashing through the wall behind her into an old hot water closet. Well, if they missed my message that certainly should get my friends' attention. She counters with a fist to my temple, which I smack out of the way with my remaining axe. She moves to grab something- one of the spheres affixed in her braid? And throws it to the ground, smashing it open and releasing a cloud of green smoke. I cough, waving a hand over my face, reactively trying to clear the smoke. I stumble out of the room, walking outside where I can soon see ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm standing there, eyes blazing with rage from underneath her kitsune mask, posture radiating menace. Not long afterwards, most of the rest stumble out, hacking from the smog. Except >rectified<, who I have to head in and drag out, as they apparently hadn't noticed the entire thing and continued to tinker in their lab. As soon as we are assembled on the lawn, we look at our meeting place, small wisps of the smoke curling out through gaps under the door and in the window frames. Without a word, ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm turns and walks to the classic dark green Jaguar E-type she covets, looking at the slashes down its side like a real jaguar had fought its vehicular cousin. ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm spins on her heel, and says plainly, "She is mine, you understand? When I find her, I will make her regret every step she ever took that led her to this."

I suppress a shiver, hairs standing on end. I may be easily scared, but that was honestly terrifying. She is really scary sometimes. She gets into the car, and shoots off, burning rubber, more smoke spiralling up.

"Well. That was awful. I'm going to write down everything I can remember about her and post it to the server. See you all tomorrow."

I walk to my car, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. As I drive home, I look at the stars, passing the mangroves along by the beach. As I turn into my drive, I notice the mailbox is full, a couple of letters sticking out of it. I lock my car, a standard looking sedan if it weren't for the deep purple colour, I had it custom mixed. It really is a beautiful colour. I walk to the mailbox, straightening as I do to my not very impressive full height, feeling very cramped from sitting in the car a while. I grab the letters, three of them. I walk to my apartment, and see Lolita chilling on the couch, lying on her back, feet in the air like she always does.

"Hey baby girl" I say as I walk past, dumping my bag in my room and heading to the bathroom.

As I walk back out, I unpack the bag, and look at my axes. There's a big scratch, presumably from a nail when it hit the wall, along the head of one of them. That will be such a pain to remove, but on the bright side, I'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands considering I won't be doing my night job. At that very moment, I hear a knock at my door. Yet again, I freeze and grab my axes, creeping to the door. There's nobody here to help me this time, so my plan of attack, or defense I suppose, will have to be different. Luckily, I have prepared for this. I'm the only person who lives here, so I've made some… adjustments. I crouch low, in case they decide to shoot through the door, and yank a small lever hidden behind a coffee table. At that moment I hurry backwards, as the trap is ready to be triggered. I unlock the door, using a little remote I had custom made, and then hidden in another custom made cavity behind a light switch. I grin, delighted that I finally get to use this particular trick, given I've never used it since I moved into this second floor apartment three years ago. When someone steps through the door, a section of the wall slams them into the other wall, pinning them there. I recognise EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist and ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm as the intruders, squashed against the wall and each other, and each swearing like a drunken sailor.

"Let me the f*ck out, you idiot" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says, trying to wriggle her way out.

"Gimme a second, okay. Why are you here anyway?" I say in response.

"My house was bloody destroyed" EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says very angrily.

"As was my apartment" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says coldly.

"We had the same idea. Come here, it was closest. EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says "Now will you let us out, for f*ck's sakes"

"Yeah, fine. What do you think I can do, though. I'm not capable of fixing your homes." I reply, hitting the button that retracts the trap, ready to smash whoever else walks through my door.

Within moments, I see that behind these two idiots are the rest of my server, most of whom are clutching a pillow and a suitcase and waving.

I sigh, defeated. "I see now"

"Isn't that just great" It's Nothing Personal… chirps.

"You're staying the night here" I groan.

"Even better!" they answer "I'm staying until my house is livable again"

"Shit" I mumble.

"You know what this means" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says to me, dragging one of her four matching suitcases in, all the same british racing green that is her signature colour.

She is followed by >rectified<, riding in on a dark purple and emerald green suitcase.

In quick succession, It's Nothing Personal… walks in carrying a black backpack covered in spikes, EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist with a black duffel with pieces of orange spray paint splashed across it haphazardly, i_make_bodies_not_friends with some pink monstrosity in the shape of a giant bow, which in her signature style has been sliced to shreds and painted dove grey, with Assault-has-many-definitions pulling along two matching deep blue modernistic contraptions.

"I brought popcorn" i_make_bodies_not_friends says, holding a bag of multi coloured popcorn

"I figured you probably would have a tough time having us all, but this is a gift as a thank you for offering up your own home to us all" Assault-has-many-definitions adds, holding out a bottle of aged whiskey to me.

"Movies!" It's Nothing Personal… says, fanning out three movies.

"So we're having a slumber party" EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist sneers.

Without a moment's hesitation, everyone else in the rooms yells at him

"If you don't like it, you can get out!"

Even Lolita yowls, as if in agreement, which alerts >rectified< to her existence, and she is soon purring happily at them patting her.

"I don't have any spare bedrooms, and you are not sleeping with me, any of you." I say, trying to set down some kind of boundary before this all begins.

Soon, everybody is setting out a sleeping bag, like kids at a slumber party, as EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist said.

"What are the movies?" I call, as I walk to my bedroom to grab my own sleeping bag and my favourite fluffy blanket.

"Pitch Perfect, one through three" It's Nothing Personal… answers.

EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist makes some noise, seemingly of excitement, which he tries to cover with a cough.

"What was that?" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says delightedly "Do you have some experience with this, macho man?"

"Pretty sure my sister has watched that a few times" He replies.

"Set it up, Nothing Personal!" I yell from the kitchen, making myself a cup of cocoa.

"Anybody want cocoa?" I add as an afterthought.

Soon a chorus of replies come flooding towards me, and in a couple minutes I'm balancing seven mugs of hot cocoa all filled with tiny marshmallows. I am greeted with the sight of six fully grown adults, all wrapped in sleeping bags, fighting over who can hold the bowl of popcorn. I sigh, yet again.

"Don't take the rainbow unicorn mug" I call over my shoulder, retreating to the kitchen yet again, to grab seven bowls for the popcorn.

I return to find the unicorn mug the only one left on the tray, and the rest of them are all sipping away contentedly.

"Like children, you all are. Like little kids." I say, shaking my head ruefully.

"Because we're cute?" i_make_bodies_not_friends replies.

"That's not what I was thinking, but whatever you want to believe" I answer.

Soon the movie begins playing, and the cacophony of notes begins. In a surprising move, EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist sings along to every song, and is annoyingly good. The rest of us all sing along off-key when we can be bothered, except when Toxic, by Britney Spears, comes on, and everybody gets up to dance and sings loud enough to make my neighbours bang on the walls.

Once the credits end, It's Nothing Personal… slaps >rectified< over the head with their pillow. >rectified< tries to hit back, but misses and whacks i_make_bodies_not_friends on the shoulder. She assumes it was EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist that hit her and slaps back, and soon it devolves into a mess of laughing and violence, as it usually is with us. Assault-has-many-definitions gets way too into it, and it's hilarious to watch. Eventually it disintegrated into a disaster of lying on the floor and slapping each other with a pillow in between cackles. Through the curtains it seems dim outside, I think it's around ten, but it's bloody hard to keep track of time when you have five dumbasses and one emo to look after. I think somebody's asleep, because the rest seem to have hushed, at least partially. This is of course, not including the outbreaks of sniggers that occur every minute or so. Soon I am the last one awake, given my chronic insomnia rarely lets me sleep, and my anxiety is telling me not to sleep with strange people in my home. I could draw something, or continue my attempt at painting one of my old sketches, but neither of those feel like the right thing to do. This night has been fun so far- I don't want to end it with work. I drift around the apartment, picking up things and returning them to their right places. After a while of this, and the apartment is as tidy as it will get without waking the others, I go to make myself another cup of hot chocolate and see all my baking supplies- that gives me an idea. I think I'll bake some stuff- it'll be nice for my friends to wake up to a feast of baked goods. I quickly do the maths- I doubt I'll get any sleep anyway so just ignore that, and with breakfast at around eight in the morning, and considering it's about eleven now I have nine hours. Assuming I can bake one item every forty minutes, depending on the complexity, I can make nine things and have time to clean up. Step one: gather ingredients and apron and stuff. Okay, check. Step two: preheat the dual ovens. Done. Step three: begin. Six hours later, I have three cakes, two batches of cookies, one trifle, a triple chocolate brownie, an apple pie and some croissants. I begin the process of decorating, my favourite part, when >rectified< wakes up and walks into a wall, rubbing their eyes. Pretty soon they realise that that is in fact, not where the kitchen is because they are not at home, and head to the kitchen to make coffee. We bump around uncomfortably for a while, until they have coffee and sit on the other side of the marble counter, sipping happily. Once they realise I'm baking, they get up and stumble over to their bag where they pull out… edible glitter? They pass me the rainbow, sparkly concoction that looks like it was thrown up by a unicorn, and gesture towards one of the cakes- a small red velvet tiered cake. Once I'm finished decorating my masterpieces, I begin the tedious process of cleaning up, supervised by >rectified< and Lolita, both of whom are batting at a stray marshmallow as if it were a mouse.

I begin placing each piece on the table just as the sun rises, making more hot chocolate as I do. I scribble on the shopping list stuck to my fridge; flour, icing sugar, and after a second's consideration; hot chocolate. I chat idly with >rectified< for a while, learning we both crochet in our spare time, they are always an early riser, and that their animals will be fine, they live in a house of their own which was not damaged, which prompts a sigh of relief from the both of us. After about half an hour of this, I come to the conclusion that they will not wake up without some assistance from me, as I doubt >rectified< has even remembered they exist. After a moment of deliberation, I decide that the best way to wake my friends is with music… one song in particular. A smirk covers my face as I direct my Amazon Alexa to play "Dick" by Doja Cat and StarBoi. As the heavy beat thumps at max volume, I hear a chorus of groans and rustling from the other room, other than Assault-has-many-definitions who hums along while they get out of the cocoon he's encased in. I wander off to the bathroom, hoping to get some mirror space before ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm and It's Nothing Personal… steal it all. After I put on some very subtle eyeliner and inserted silver studs in all my piercings, I'm more than ready to start hunting down the woman who made it necessary for all these people to move in, albeit temporarily. So far we know very little about her, but she has a unique style that should make her easily identifiable- after all, how often are you attacked by a woman with glowing tattoos? Not often, I hope. I head for my laptop, sitting on my desk in the corner of my bedroom, and flip it open. I swiftly head to my favourite website for these things: the school library of Mayfield Primary, Texas. Of course, no Mayfield Primary, Texas exists. It's a front for a very different website, one named Desolation. It catalogues all known information about contract killers, the better for any discerning clients to select their preferred lackey. Of course, given how sought after it is by the police, access to this place is highly limited and heavily monitored. The guy that I buy Lolita's food from, his brother sells moonshine, and that brother happened to get a customer drunk enough to let slip that fae moonlight as an assassin. Of course, from there, it was short work to track the assassin down and get the password and link from fae's computer. I trawl through masses of posts, looking at the modus operandi of each killer, looking for the familiar style of our attacker. After I get past the fourth person to have claimed to have killed JFK on this page alone (who knew even hitmen lied on their resumes?) I'm interrupted by Assault-has-many-definitions calling for a congregation. As I walk back to my dining room and the gutted table of baked items, Assault-has-many-definitions wants to talk about the attack on the clubhouse, and I roll my eyes and walk back to my laptop- after all, what else would any of us be thinking about other than the destruction of our homes. After that has all been safely ignored, I retreat to my desk and keep looking. After an hour or so of this I sigh, and stand up. "Nevermore will I look at this god forsaken website again" I say, thoroughly sick of the whole thing.

"I got nothing" I tell Assault-has-many-definitions when I return to my living room. "Not a single mention of anyone even vaguely resembling her. She's a ghost"

He sighs. "Shit. I thought we would have been able to find something, but there's absolutely nothing. No proof she ever existed."

>rectified< pushes their glasses up their nose. "I might have something." they say

"Which is? EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

"I believe I can isolate some of her dna from the skin cells she left on your axe." they say, nodding at me. "We can then crosscheck with any database we have access to. It would be ideal to crosscheck it with the police's criminal database, but that requires physical access to one of their servers."

"I can do it" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm volunteers immediately. She really has it out for this unknown woman. "What do I need to do when I'm there?"

"The servers will require a password" >rectified< warns.

"It's still do-able." She replies.

I cut in. "I know of another server that would be far more useful to us. It's very difficult to access though, I've only ever even heard about it. Apparently Thomas Tyler Whinery has a server of xeir own, that combines every known criminal database on the planet. FBI, CIA, ATF, Interpol, you name it xe've got it."

"We want it." It's Nothing Personal…says. "How do we get it?"

"There's a server, presumably operating on a closed circuit, that is going to be in a highly secure area. I think it's in xeir panic room, which is… near impossible to get into, the apartment itself is a thief's nightmare" I say. "I've done some research, and have a floor plan of the house"

"First thing is getting into the building, and then past the doorman- sorry, doorperson, in the lobby. Then we take the lift, which requires a keycard, up to the penthouse. Then get into the apartment, which is a key, and then into the panic room which requires a passcode and a retina scan."

"I can get past the doorperson" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says.

"I can do the passcode" i_make_bodies_not_friends answers.

"The first keycard, for the elevator, I have a trick for." EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist says.

Everyone looks at him oddly, but he just shrugs. "I have to get my chemicals from somewhere"

"Okay fair" I say.

"I believe that I have a solution to the retina scan" >rectified< says calmly.

"And I know how to get past the key" Assault-has-many-definitions adds.

"Then we have a plan. Personal can get Scream into the building, then Scream can charm her way past the doorperson, use Explosive's trick on the elevator, use Assault's skeleton key, get the passcode from Bodies, and use whatever device Rectified has planned for the retina scan. When do we do it?" I ask Assault-has-many-definitions.

He checks his watch and says "In thirty six minutes. That is near the end of the security guards shift, when they are least likely to be focused."

"Let's go then, figure out how we do this, all of you, and I'll start work on trying to figure out how to triangulate her position… I can make a radius that she can't have got farther than, then I can ideally locate where she is. When did she hit your houses?" I ask the team as a whole.

I answer before any of them can reply.

"However, I do suspect that she is still in town… as there are Seven Devils and she has only found six. Although I suppose that she may have assumed that I live at the clubhouse, perhaps…" I trail off, considering, before shaking my head.

"No, that's unlikely. She's a professional, she knows that I don't spend enough time there to live here. The question is, why hasn't she attacked me yet? Has she simply not found my house? That seems unlikely. She's like a wraith, difficult to see and even harder to grab a hold of…"

And then the penny drops.

"Oh"

"What?" >rectified< asks me.

"She hasn't attacked me, because she knows you would all run here. She smoked you out, drove you all here, and then if she were as smart as I think she is, she would call for reinforcements, and lay a trap for us. We need to get out, as soon as possible. Pack your suitcases, now." I say sharply, before going to pack my own bags.

I quickly grab my go-bag and packing a pair of matching suitcases. What can I say, I I find it hard to travel light.

I grab Lolita's cage, and while she puts up a fight at having to leave her favourite spot, it's not too difficult to get her in her cage, which of course was custom designed to match the rest of my travel gear. Nothing but the best for my baby.

"I have a couple of secret exits. Three of them are on the blueprints to my house, so I presume she will have found them. Another one I hired builders to put in for me, so I'm pretty sure it's fine, but let's not take that risk. I've got two more, do we want to be headed to the subway to get out of town, or to another safe house?"

"Okay, firstly what the fuck. Why does this tiny little apartment have seven exits? How paranoid are you?

And secondly, I would pick safe house. I still want to get that bitch back." ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says.

"I'm a little bit paranoid, but it has kept all of us alive so shut up. These exits are a lifeline, and they help me go grocery shopping without having to see other people, because people suck."

"Amen to that" Assault-has-many-definitions adds.

"See, he agrees!" I say.

"Anyone want to vote against safe house?" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm queries.

"I don't think so" Assault-has-many-definitions answers, looking around the group.

"Negative" >rectified< replies.

"Then we go, now. This plan can be deferred until tomorrow. Grab your stuff, we need to go right this second." I say, voice cracking with fear.

I lead the way to one of my secret exits, a trapdoor cleverly hidden in the wooden floors of my kitchen, which lead down, through my downstairs neighbours home (although she will never know it existed, it's behind a false wall) it leads underground, and pops up in the greenhouse of a small cottage, not three blocks north of here. The owners are friends of friends, and I happen to know the two lovely ladies that live there, Rose and Juleka, are on holiday in Alicante, Canada. Even if they were here, I have a deal that allows me use of their greenhouse when I need it in exchange for sketches of tattoos whenever they feel like they need a new design, which is more often than you would think, even with sapphics. Anyway, five doors down from the girls is my ancestral home, Blackthorn Hall. Named after some long dead descendant, it's been passed down through generations and rumoured to be haunted by several ghosts. I've never seen an actual apparition, and things disappearing and reappearing in odd places I just put down to my bad memory. Still, I like to pretend there really are ghosts, and I'm quite friendly with these fictional people. Although the house has some real ghosts, and these are the ghosts of bad memories. So I prefer to stay away.

"Oi, Julius!" I shout, as we enter the grand entry hall.

"Someone lives here?" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says, wrinkling her nose at the dust and occasional rat corpse that dot the rooms.

"In a manner of speaking" I reply.

"And that means?" She answers, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's supposed to be haunted" I say, rolling my eyes heavily. "But it's not, of course. Look, pick a room and it's yours, but don't blame me if there are raccoons living in the wardrobe. Nobody has lived here in over a decade."

"I understand." >rectified< says, nodding solemnly, their demeanour at odds with their ride-on suitcase and holographic silver backpack with a picture of a squirrel embroidered on it

"Now, considering I just abandoned my home to be destroyed by the woman who keeps attacking us, perhaps I could have some time alone." I mutter, stomping up the stairs, dragging my suitcases, wearing a backpack and carrying Lolita's cage. I could have sworn it all weighed much less than it should, but I probably just forgot to pack something important, as usual.

"Won't she be able to track us here?" EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist calls after me. "After all, they're both under your name, aren't they?"

"No." I say grimly.

I tread down the hall and around the corner, to the room that was at one point mine, when I was much younger. I can barely remember it, as I was only five at the time, but I plainly recall the bars on the windows.

The symbols carved into them though, are a bit more blurry when I try to recall them.

I place my suitcases on my bed and quickly check to see if everything is in order, which it is. As much in order as this place ever gets, the disgusting house of horrors. As I sit on the bed, dust puffs around me, settling on the deep grey coverlets, and I ponder the current predicament. She can't know we're here. It just can't be possible. There's nothing to link me to this house, at all.

I suddenly straighten. If she was to ambush us, then that leaves her open to be ambushed as well- but I can't wait for the others to gear up and come with me, so I message the server, strap on my axes, put on my favourite gloves (fake leather with metal studs on the knuckles, for that extra hard hit) and throw on my mask, a plain black mask that only covers my eyes- after all, that's enough to fool facial recognition software. I bolt down the stairs and out the door to where my car should be, until I remember… it's back at the house. I can't risk using the path back, as that brings me right back into her trap, so I have to find some other way to get there, fast. This place was once a very impressive building, and it's an old building. I know my friend has a horse she keeps here when it suits her, in what was once the stables and is now more of a holdall for whatever I feel like shoving in there. I quickly turn tail and walk to the back of the house where the stables are and see that the horse is sadly not here. Riding into battle on horseback sounded awesome. What there is, however, is an ATV that I remodeled and now looks even better than ever, plum paint job gleaming under the dust cover. I grab the helmet, matching colour of course, and screech out of the driveway onto the road. Now, while these things don't go as fast as a car, they make up for in off-roading ability. I cut through a park, skipping three sets of traffic lights and arrive back at my home, or ex-home, very quickly. I slip off the ATV, dropping a little bit to the ground as I am really Not That Tall, and quickly turn so my face is away from the house, pretending to play on my phone. I tap into my security cameras remotely through the app, and have a little look around. I see three thugs tearing my place apart, which makes me wince, but no mysterious attacker. Suddenly, I hear a crack and a fizzing noise directly in front of me so I look up, and it is none other than the mysterious attacker herself. I frantically calculate my odds- on the one hand, I've lost the element of surprise, and she does have backup. On the other hand she prefers to run away rather than attack from what we know, and her backup is far away and difficult to contact.

Before I can make a decision, she attacks me with the same glowing chains that she used in our last encounter. One speeds towards my face, missing and knocking a piece of brick from the wall behind me. In the moments before I can retaliate, the other blurs towards my stomach, and I smash it out of the way before it hits with an axe. I recall my many years of training in the form of reading too many novels and about six weeks of throwing axe practice, and remember that the end result of a fight is largely dependent on the first few moves, and unless I do something fast it's not looking good for me. I only have a few tricks up my sleeve, I'm not a practised combatant. I usually rely on stealth, which gives me an idea. If I can get to a dark place, then I'll have a definite advantage over this woman and her goons. There is a laser tag arena, not more than two streets over, but I'm currently backed into an alley- still, I need to move fast before she has a chance to call for her backup. Without hesitating, I run backwards, farther into the alley, nearly at the end. She clearly thinks I have been cornered, given she's grinning and trying to cover as much available space as possible. Little does she know, I was a well renowned gymnast back in the day, and I've kept my skills honed. Perhaps not as finely honed as they could have been, but still enough to perform an excellent forward handspring. I move to the brick wall behind me, and then I toss both my axes directly at the head of my opponent. In the moment she is stunned and ducking to avoid my attack, I push off the wall, place both my hands on the pavement, and sprint like hell for the exit, where my axes lie waiting for me. One lying on the floor, the other embedded in a nearby car- I'll have to make sure they get insured for that, I'm morally grey, not evil. I catch my first axe from its place in the car, and snatch the other from the floor. I race for the ATV I arrived on, leaping onto the seat and shooting off towards the arena. I take the corner fast and the ATV rises on two wheels, scaring the living daylights out of me, but it crashes back onto all four wheels after that hair-raising moment. I zip past a Starbucks, startling some hip young ladies with frappuccinos (presumably ordered off the 'secret' menu) and pull into the parking garage for the laser tag place, choosing to put on the helmet that I really should have been wearing on the ride here. I head up the stairs, tossing a fifty dollar bill to the cashier and yelling 'keep the change' as I go. I head towards the bases, knowing they would be the least easily defensible and as such easiest to make a quick exit from. I wait patiently under the base for the red team, listening to the sounds of these bumbling fools crashing all over the place (I bet they never paid too!) and I climb as silently as I can atop the walls that crisscross the arena. I can see from my perch the woman direct the three goons, two girls and one person that seems vaguely androgynous, to split up and find me while she guards the exit. I must admit, her tactic is sound. Beat the grass and wait for the pheasant to fly out, or whatever the saying is. Previously, I have preferred to run and hide rather than fight, other than when we fought in the clubhouse. If I were her, I would assume it's because it's an environment I'm familiar with. However, I do love laser tag, so I'm comfortable here as well. I leap from wall to wall, moving as silently as I can, which is not very silent, but the cheesy pop music blaring drowns out every misstep I make. I finally get the drop on the first goon, one of the girls. I would feel guilty, if she didn't just destroy my house, so I smack her across the head with the haft of my axe. She drops like a sack of bricks, and from experience I know that should keep her out for about five minutes. I drop to the floor, and grab her weapons, some form of tranquiliser gun/bayonet, and a bandolier of gaseous canisters, no doubt to create the noxious fumes I encounter whenever I see this lady.

I clamber back onto the wall, and see to my delight, another goon directly on the other side of the wall, presumably to come help out their friend, but unable to navigate the neon labyrinth I am so comfortable in. I thwack the other one, knocking them out as well, and hurriedly collecting their weapons as well. They seem to have the same equipment as the other, as well as one very shiny golden pocket knife which I decide to keep for myself. I could lie in wait for the other, but that leaves the chance they go and get the mysterious attacker, and I don't want to have to tangle with her and an accomplice, it's difficult enough battling her alone. So I skip along the false battlements of my castle, off to fight the dragon as a noble knight should. I soon arrive above the last goon, however this one is better prepared for my attack. She blocks my slap with the haft with the barrel of her tranquiliser/bayonet, which I have now dubbed the tranquinet, and slash at me with the bayonet part. I leap back into a barrel, presumably part of the decor of this 'castle', bruising my hip and hissing at the pain. I hop forward and aim another thwack with the haft, but she dodges that as well, so I'm forced to take desperate measures. Namely, resorting to my gymnastics training again. I hop atop the barrel, and flip as gracefully as I can over the thug, smacking her atop the head with the butt of the axe. She crumples like a puppet with her strings cut, and I stand there for a moment, admiring my handiwork. After a brief moment of gloating, I head towards the exit. I know that I won't be able to gain the element of surprise over my glowing foe by climbing atop the walls, so I need to find a new way to ambush her. I recall a fire exit, near the blue team's base, that will do perfectly. I slip out, and head around to the front again, where I see, or more accurately do not see, the glowing maiden, as I have dubbed her. Her lack of an appearance does not stun me as much as it should- It's clear to me she is tricksy. So I resort to plan B, a tactic of her own devising, namely the dropping of one of these gas bombs that she used on me and my associates. I tell the cashier to get out, who quite sensibly does, a bit paler than I would like but I don't have the time to reassure them. I smash one of the containers on the ground, and rush for the door, heading back to my ATV which… has flat tyres. What a low move, slashing my tires. Not only is it annoying, it's just plain wasteful. Fine. She wants to play like that, we can play like that. Not only do I slash her tires as well, I also cut the fuel line. That'll teach her. I walk up the driveway, heading for the bus stop down the road. Not even the great and mighty Seven Devils are too good for public transport. I swipe my ATHop card, and take a seat near the front of the bus, dropping my bag in the catchment area behind my seat. I tap out a message to my server on discord, using one of my signature emojis, the crystal ball. I don't know why I love it, but I do.

{it wasn't me sent a message: Okay so. Update. I found her at my place, tearing it to shreds. She followed me outside, when I was scoping it out, and tried to take me out. I got away and headed to the laser tag place near my house, site of numerous of your defeats at my hands. But I digress. Her goons got taken out, and she was smoked out with her own gas thing. I'm on my way back to Blackthorn Hall now, with some interesting equipment for us all to take a look at. Toodles, and ttyl! 🔮}

I shut my phone off, stuffing it into my bag, and take out an old book I like, the Wizard of Oz. The phrase friends of Dorothy is a euphemism for gay people, long ago. Dorothy was known for supporting gay men and as such the moniker 'friends of Dorothy' was born. I flip through the pages, not really reading, more of a disguise. After the bus has stopped about a dozen times, and I was given a bit of a fright when the bus came to a sudden halt because of a sneaky driveway, I arrive back at Blackthorn Hall.

My friends are waiting in the lobby, in varying states of impatience. Without a second's pause, they have swooped in to bandage up my wounds, of which I have few, and collect my pieces of loot, of which I have many.

Soon the collected armory is in >rectified<'s lab, being studied by the full team. After what feels like an eternity of poking and prodding, we ascertain that the gas is some form of paralytic, combined with both a strong perfume and a fire suppressant element. It takes less than an hour for >rectified< to identify the chemical component, and ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm to identify the fragrance added to it- it's a custom mixture, which is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it means that the seller, and as a result the glowing maiden, will be harder to track down. On the other hand, it means there will be far fewer sellers to track down, and less investigation into each shopkeep. The chemical side is a bust, nothing uncommon enough to give us a lead on our elusive quarry. ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm is going to reach out to her fashion contacts to see who sells this mixture, and in the meantime we can study more closely the tranquinet, as it's possible the tranq darts are more unique. She must be getting annoyed now, that's the third time I've slipped away from her, causing some losses. Perhaps I can bait her into attacking me. Or maybe I can clean out the dump this house is. If it's in slightly better condition, I can rent it out, and make the money back from the destruction of my home by these people.

Three days later.

"We are no closer to finding the glowing maiden" Assault-has-many-definitions says, anger in his voice.

"Look, the perfume thing didn't pan out, and neither did the tranq darts. We're engaged in a game of cat and mouse here. If we move, it gives her a chance to locate us, and as such stage another ambush. As immensely aggravating as it is, we just have to stay put." It's Nothing Personal… tells him, flicking at some fidget toy they carry everywhere.

"I know you're right" He sighs in response. "Staying home, unable to do anything is driving me mad though."

Heels clicking on marble herald the arrival of ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm. "You're not wrong, but we must consider the alternative. We are staying home to protect ourselves, and whatever innocent bystanders there are when we are forced to fight the glowing maiden" She says, stalking towards the long table we sit at.

"Yes, yes, I know."

"So we need a plan, to fight her on our own terms" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says, tossing her hair back. "I for one, have an inkling of what we might do"

"Oh?" I say, unable to conceal the excitement in my voice.

"There is a ball I was invited to. I'm supposed to be showing off my latest designs. If I RSVP yes, I'm sure this- this glowing maiden will learn about it, and try to stop us. Perhaps we could even speak with her. We have never encountered her before, and she's very skilled, so I think she's a gun for hire, don't you?"

"I do" Assault-has-many-definitions says.

"So we could simply pay her more, and convince her to leave us alone. I'm sure she would have no argument"

"It could work" Assault-has-many-definitions says, tapping the table as he thinks. "Can you get us all in?"

ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm stops to consider it for a moment. "Perhaps. I think I could do it, but it's not ideal. Masks and the like won't be allowed into the ball."

"That's a problem that has a solution" It's Nothing Personal… says to her. "Gimme about four hours, and you'll find that the invitations actually say that it's a masquerade ball"

"I do like your style" ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm says, an admiring glint in her eye. "In that case, yes, I think I could."

"So we have a plan!" I say happily.

"But there's a lot of things we need to do to make this happen." ItSnIceWhEnThEyScReAm warns. "We need outfits, or you will stick out like sore thumbs. I think I have a dress that will fit Bodies, and my own of course. I may have a tux that fits Assault, I can look. The rest will have to be made, and the ball is five days away. So you are with me, and Personal can do her- sorry, I mean their, hacking."

"Good." Assault-has-many-definitions agrees, nodding slightly. "The rest of us?"

"Get ready to kick some ass, and brush up on your etiquette classes." She replies

"Bold of you to assume I don't already have excellent manners" He answers good naturedly.

"It's hard to tell, don't you know not to wear a hood inside?" She replies, walking off with the click-clack of her heels echoing after her.

I hurriedly follow, given I'm apparently helping with outfits.

I follow down the hall, still grey with dust and decorated with spider webs hanging from the walls and light fittings.

Soon we enter a room, clearly an old bedroom given the four-poster which has been shoved against the far wall, and inside it's like another world- if that world were clean and well-lit. ItSnIcEwHeNtHeYsCrEaM has clearly put a lot of room into making this room habitable. She directs me to the cupboard, asking for certain patterns, and then sets me to marking reams of fabric with the chalk she gives me, taking care to follow the patterns exactly. Once I've cut the pieces, she starts sewing them together with an impressively large sewing machine in her signature green colour.

Eventually, it starts to look like a suit. Black velvet, with green vines and purple flowers embroidered in curls all over it. I knew she was talented, but this; this is something else. A full ball worthy outfit in four hours. Incredible.

"So who is this for?" I ask her

"Rectified." She says, without looking up from the sewing machine.

"Are you sure it'll fit? It looks a bit big, you know they're pretty little."

"I'm certain" She replies, utterly focused on the task in front of her.

"Finished cutting" I say.

"Good. New pattern, do the same thing on the pale pink linen" She says, gesturing to the cupboard again.

"Which pattern?" I say, looking at the box that contains the patterns.

"Ball Gown C. It should have Flower Queen scribbled on it." She answers, out of my line of sight.

"Yeah, I think I found it. There's like three different rolls of pale pink linen here"

"The palest one, and they're called bolts you heathen"

"That doesn't sound right" I frown

"It is, get used to it" She answers.

"Got it." I say, before getting to work on chalking and cutting.

Soon another outfit starts to take shape- a pale pink dress with pieces of gossamer lace arranged like wings. I don't even have to ask about this- the colour, the size, the style, all are perfect for It's Nothing Personal… in nearly every way, except one.

"You know that they-" I start to say.

"Yeah, they need pockets for their fidget toys and knuckledusters, I'm aware. I have a work around, because they will be screening for weapons and such at the ball. I've designed a set of rings that appear perfectly normal on screens, except they can be activated to lock together magnetically, leaving knuckledusters."

"And their fidgets? You know they need them, for stimming and stuff." I say

"I thought of that too. The rings have extra rings, placed on ball bearings around them, so they spin. I think that would suit their needs but I'm not completely sure. I have a backup plan, just in case, but it would be more conspicuous."

"I see." I answer. "You haven't asked them?"

"No. I see no reason to until it becomes necessary, and both of us are too busy for random questions about fidget toys."

"I suppose you have a point." I say as I continue cutting the fabric, blinking in carefully spaced intervals as a form of stimming. Nobody ever seems to notice it, which is the aim I guess. Still, it's strange to have nobody notice an activity you carry out more often than nearly anything else.

"I know I do." She replies, tossing her hair out of her eyes irritatedly. "Pass me that coronet, would you? The one on the manikin."

I pass her the rose gold coronet- while it's certainly a beautiful piece of jewellery, I can't imagine it being something she would have picked out for herself. So who would it be for? It doesn't seem like the style of anyone else here, really.

And then it clicks.

"That's for me, isn't it?" I say, not really a question.

"If you decide to wear it" She shrugs elegantly.

"I appreciate you catering for me" I say, a little roughly. My fluidity of gender isn't always taken well, and people rarely go out of their way to respect it.

"Of course." She replies, dismissing it as if it were nothing.

"How many outfits do we need to make?" I ask.

"Seven." She replies.

"I thought you said-? I say, letting the sentence hang between us.

"I know, but paparazzi. If they notice anyone was wearing something that wasn't brand new, they would eviscerate you in the tabloids, and infamy isn't what we want right now."

"I agree, but what if we can't complete all seven in time?"

"Well, A: the backup outfits still exist, so if we don't finish in time, we can still take our chances with the gossip sharks; and B: we have finished two already." She says, holding up It's Nothing Personal…'s fairy dress. While they are non-binary, they prefer to present femininely. That takes guts, to make yourself appear clearly as something you aren't. Means you gotta fight for the right things.

"Next pattern is finished too!" I say, handing over the pieces of fabric and wincing as a stray pin pricks my palm.

"Excellent" She says with satisfaction.

"Which pattern now?" I ask.

"Waistcoat 7. Should have Bloodlord on it."

"Charming" I mutter, sliding it from its place in the wardrobe.

"And colour?" I query.

"There's two pieces to it. The main part should be black, and the other part bright orange

I begin work on the chalking and cutting of this one, which is far more complicated than the last, the pieces beginning to take shape. I can sort of see what this is going to be, but not really.

"This is the last one for today?" I ask, although it isn't really a question.

"It is." She says.

"It looks like magma" I say, awestruck, staring at the finished product through the filtering rays of the setting sun.

"That is the aim." She says, pleased.

"I'm going to see Lolita, and then I'm going to bed." I say, stepping out of the room.

"G'night, Me-me" She says, pinning more pieces together and frowning at a stubborn crease.

"See you tomorrow," I say, waving.

I walk to my room, dodging the creakiest floorboards and biggest spiderwebs.

I let Lolita out of her cage, and she darts out, searching for a new place to sprawl. She soon picks the very center of the bed, trying to take up as much space as she possibly can.

I brush my teeth and remove my earrings and other piercings, placing them all in a little case that I've scribbled on in silver and black marker.

I don't drift off for a long time, so in the meantime I sketch pieces of angels swooping, and devils rising. Something is coming, I feel it in my bones, and I just hope I can avoid the worst of it.

The day of the ball.

I fiddle with my bow-tie, straightening it over and over again, the nervousness getting to me. I feel shaky, and I feel nauseous at the thought of entering the ball and having to talk to all these important people- especially when I know that really, I shouldn't be here.

In the drive to the ball, where I know that in reality, I am little more than an accessory. I step out of the car, moving to open the door and lend ItSnIcEwHeNtHeYsCrEaM a hand to getting out of the gunmetal grey limo she keeps for a time like this (why does she have a limo???).

After I do so, I walk into the ball, seven abreast with my squad. I'm right at the edge, but I get a flash of what we look at from the mirror right within the doors. Right on the opposite side, is It's Nothing Personal… in their amazing petaled dress. With the make up, and the fabric behind them giving the impression of wings, they really do look like the Petal Queen their outfit is named for. Next to them is Assault-has-many-definitions wearing a midnight blue suit, with little pearls sewn on, with stars embroidered around them. He truly looks like the embodiment of the night sky. On his left is EXPLOSIVE_enthusiasist looking dapper in his magma themed suit. Even his ridiculous hairdo is relatively tamed for the occasion. In the centre lies ItSnIcEwHeNtHeYsCrEaM, wearing a sleek dress in her signature colour, the dark green she favours in all her manners of dress. Around her neck lies a dark, shimmering grey chain. I'm not sure what she was trying to symbolise with it… maybe the oppression of women? But no matter what, it works for her. On her other side is i_make_bodies_not_friends looking almost leonin in an asymmetrical suit, in dove grey, and an undershirt that is pristine white. The collar is styled to make it seem like the tip of a mountain of the suit. Around her throat is a hot pink ribbon, tied into a bow at the front. The next in line is >rectified< wearing the black and green suit that I helped create. Their hair is plaited nicely down their back, making a usually feminine style seem more neutral than it really is. Lastly, I see myself. I'm glad to see that I betray no sign of the anxiety that fills me at the very thought of this event. I can see that the black and yellow suit I wear fits me better than I thought it would. It's sewn with neon yellow pieces of thread in the shape of eyes, taking inspiration from the false eyes of animals hoping to camouflage themselves against greater predators. We walk into the ball, led by ItSnIcEwHeNtHeYsCrEaM who holds her head high. While she is relatively well-known for her design of clothing, she is new to the scene, and most other labels are keen on keeping things as they were, and up-and-comers out. The light refracts off a bejewelled butterfly sitting in the top of her ponytail. At a couple discrete motions of Assault-has-many-definitions we all split up to search for the mysterious assassin. Soon i_make_bodies_not_friends sees her, sitting idly in the corner. On my rounds of the ballroom, attached to whichever person seems to want to dance at any given moment I notice many rich people attached to other beautiful, much younger people.

A few people really catch my eye though. One, a boy dressed in an ice white suit with hair to match. He could be a statue made from ice, if it weren't for the olive green eyes staring back at me from under the mask. I make a mental note to invite him to dance later. There's one other boy, with golden hair dressed as a cat, who notices me eyeing his ass and stares and smirks back in return. A girl in pale orange, bedecked in the absolutely blindingly bright jewellery that is the characteristic of oil tycoons and other billionaires. Strangely, she can't be much older than I am. Twenty-two, twenty-three, if I had to guess. One woman, clearly ageing and fading in beauty but not in wit, as she is surrounded by adoring courtiers of all genders, and they don't seem to be after her hand in marriage or her business- they just want the pleasure of her company.

I head in, discreetly heading to the villain's side, and raising my hand to invite her to dance. She accepts, with a slow smile. We twirl into the centre of the dance floor, surrounded on each side by my squad, in pairs of their own, some of whom are stumbling through the dance and others are moving like quicksilver across the floor.

I speak to her softly, voice lower than the orchestra in the background. "You destroyed my home"

"I did my job." She says simply in return.

"So you do this for money?" I ask.

"Generally yes. Yours was for the cash. There were some jobs I did for pleasure though."

"I see. And if we paid you to leave us all alone, how much would you require?"

"I was paid in the range of three to five million per person. That much at least, if not more. I will give you a truce for three days to come up with the money, in cash, clean money. I'll tell you where I want it left on the day. And to be frank? If you asked me to take out my employer, it would be a job for pleasure." With that she slips away. I track her with my eyes as she moves through the crowd, and she disappears from my sight behind a stack of glasses. No sooner than she disappears, My friends encircle me, asking for information. I'm the one chosen to negotiate as I'm the least noticeable by the rest of the crowd. I pass on everything she said, making sure to use her exact words. We have completed our job here, so the rest of the evening is just for fun. I dance with everyone that I found stuck out earlier. The witty lady is truly a lady. She introduces herself as Lady Outhwaite, and is as nimble a dancer as she is a conversationalist. Both the boys I saw earlier refuse to introduce themselves beyond random descriptive words, with Shard for the ice statue and Claw for the cat. Both dance passably, although Shard is certainly the better dancer of the two, and after dancing with me they dance with each other for the rest of the ball. They seem to be a couple, judging by the way they stare at each other every moment they're apart. I ship it big time. The girl in pale orange calls herself Lila Rossi, although she says it with such hesitation I feel it must be an alias. She dances well, and points out pieces of gossip on the other dancers as they whirl by. I feel that this is a persona though, the shallow gossip. I make certain to stay wary of her, as I'm certain she has depths she hasn't yet revealed. If nothing else, she has some skill at finding out secrets clearly.

I don't drink, so I sip a glass of lemonade when I'm not on the dance floor. I'm no great shakes at dancing, but I do enjoy it. Nearing the end of the ball, I notice my drink seems to be saltier than lemonade should be- one of the signs of a spiked drink. I set it down gingerly on a conveniently placed end table, and walk to tell my friends. My vision clouds as I walk, but I make it fine and I assume that any observers would put it down to alcohol. As a collective, we head to the door as quickly as possible without raising suspicion, using my supposed inebriation as an excuse.

I'm clearly in no state to drive home, so Assault-has-many-definitions takes my place as the driver. I replace him, sitting next to It's Nothing Personal… and they fuss for a while over me, before getting distracted by the mesmerising spinning of their rings. At some point on the drive home I must have fainted, but when I wake up there's plenty of news for me to learn.