Anything You Want

[FangedSmile]

So let me start by giving a little background on the universe. Some of this is filler so feel free to skip to the READ THIS section.

World: Earth-like, with continents and various cultures. However, the planet did not have a stage where the big bad creatures died off due to a lack of resources. Humans came onto the scene in various groups, some with ties closer to the trees, others the water, but were nearly wiped out by the more monstrous creatures. While human resourcefulness kept them from complete obliteration, their numbers were dwindling. That is, until they discovered Gamina stones. The stones would appear after a storm during late March, but would vanish again after three nights and four days unless they found their match.


Humans were drawn to the Geminanima stones because the stones seemed to call out to them. While many would disappear, quite a few stuck around with the humans who picked them up. From there, it was a matter of having the ability to form a mental connection to the stone. This was a difficult task when your life consists mainly of trying not to die every day.

There are many tales regarding how the first stone hatched (either by a clan elder or a hermit trapped in a cave with only the stone for comfort), but humans began to realize the importance of the stones when they began changing. If a stone was well cared for and had its desires met, it would begin to change. No longer were the stones just seen as a religious curiosity. When they began hatching, humans realized they weren't stones at all. The eggs, as it was realized they were, hatched to reveal allies against what would have otherwise been assured extinction. If the egg's owner, called a Geminanima Meister or just a Gem Meister, was strong enough both physically and mentally then the creature that hatched would survive and there would be a stable link between the pair. Otherwise, the Gem Meister's tended to break down. They might become rabid, thoughtless animals, and their creatures would match. They had to be killed when this happened.

Learning to use the Geminanima stones correctly began as apprenticeships. Youths trained under someone in order to hatch an egg, train the fledgling, and fight off the monsters attempting to kill their tribes and towns. The apprentices were chosen based on how smart they were and if they were felt to be good representatives (aka, not a douchebag who will use the creature to kill his/her own tribe, or for generally evil purposes). Usually, royalty got a chance just because that’s how shit works… The eggs, however, don’t seem to give a damn about that. The tradition was abandoned after quite a few princes were incompatible with the eggs. Plus, the regions that allowed peasants a chance to own an egg had a better armed force… hording the eggs to one social class was quickly seen as idiotic.

When schools began to spring up, there were special ones focused on the eggs. These schools had longer days and often had to either grant scholarships, or be paid into. Yes, this did mean an unfair advantage for the rich- the problem being that the eggs get to choose who gets them and there have been cases where the eggs seemed to cooperate into tricking someone into picking an ordinary stone and believing it was an egg that just never ever hatched. So, everything that is known about the eggs was studied to formulate tests and challenges for people who hoped to become Geminanima Meisters.

Starting in elementary school, children in 4th grade have the ability to try out for a spot at one of the schools that lead to a path to the University. The environment within the schools is a lot like Finland’s unorthodox school system. The atmosphere is more relaxed and class sizes are small. If you want to take a break, you are welcome to do so. There are libraries and break rooms students use to get a mental recharge. That, mixed with the fact that the students truly and fully want to be there and are given freedom to create their own clubs and hold events, means they are commonly successful and devoted to the school. However, the expectations are much higher. If you fall too far behind and can't catch up, you fail. If you can't commit to the longer days and higher expectations, you fail. If you miss too many days, you fail. Many students drop out and are removed to regular schools. As you reach each new grade level, the day gets longer as extra programs become available (budgetary reasons… why waste funds on kids who drop out).

In Junior high you graduate only after your teachers evaluate your past performance and decide if you are a candidate for continuing. Representatives from each region's University will come and use their talents to pic people they feel can succeed- even people the teachers assume will never make it. The representatives have creatures which have seer-type abilities, and can see a person's potential, even if it is hidden. The people they pick won't have an easy time, but they can make it through. Students who pass are shoved into an entrance exam. Each exam focuses on retrieving a Geminanima egg. All eggs start out looking like small, dull gray rocks. Students can't just take the first one they find; they have to find one that was meant for them, or the egg will disappear.

All through high school, Geminanima Meister candidates must attend classes, keep up their physical skills, complete challenges, and go on quests... all while caring for the egg. Some eggs are demanding, others are finicky, and other still may be silent so you spend all your free time trying to guess what it needs until you sense that it is satiated. This can mean that you end up with an egg that needs to be in 150 degree temperatures, but feels lonely if you aren't close to it. Others may even love all the shows you hate and want you to sing the theme songs. Sometimes this is the creature's personality, but often it just tests to see how far you'll go to make sure it's happy. They are all difficult, but the more proficiently you meet the egg's desires, the higher you sync with it and the more loyalty it feels towards you.

However, you also grow a stronger connection to it as your souls sync.

Your egg can die or even revert back to its original form, or never hatch, because of something you’ve done and will be kicked out for. If you get kicked out (even at the University level) for any reason, your creature goes to a creature master- someone with a high skill for synchronizing with the eggs and creatures, and who can mimic mental connections between eggs and the owners they’ve been separated from.

After high school you have to showcase that your egg is well cared for, that you kept up with all your classes, and that you meet the fitness standards. If you fail the school will take your egg. The egg that you've been connecting and bonding with for four years. If you sucked at taking care of the egg it will still be small and gray and can be returned to where you found it. If you sucked at your classes but were great at caring for the egg and you don't pass the tests, it's like they rip out a chunk of your heart and brain and tell you to function without those pieces. They can't let you keep the egg. Most of the time, they simply hold people back because this type of separation is very bad for the egg, and has led to suicide on many occasions. However, you never know if you'll get to stick around for another year, or be kicked out.

--- READ THIS ---

People who make it to high school graduation number in the hundreds to low thousands. So instead of having a few Universities, there is usually only one per region. We’ll call ours TEOTE University unless someone has a better idea. If your character is a new student then congratulations, your egg will hatch... soon. It'll hatch when it thinks you're ready and then you'll have a baby... something. It can be a steampunk creation, a dragon, a unicorn, whatever the hell you want it to be. If you play an older student, you have an older, more impressive... whatever hatched!

TEOTE University is set up like many private universities. There are dorms of varying quality (freshmen dorms usually follow the “2 Small” principle. They are just large enough to shove two small beds inside with two feet between them, two small study desks at the end, two drawers beneath each bed, two small closets, 1 window + 1 door. If your egg hatches you can be upgraded- provided your creature is big enough to merit the move. If you’re an honors student you can try for placement in a dorm on the top floor, with loft beds and more room- they’re usually quieter to allow for studying, and have computers and a few perks in the common room.

Remember that dropout rate is high and they don’t waste resources. You don't have to pay for this university using the traditional methods. Instead, you complete missions.

Sophomores and people who complete the most missions get rooms that are much more livable, so on and so forth.

You’re considered a student for 10 years from the time you entered the university. So instead of Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, and Senior being the only ranks, you have levels. Freshman Class Level 1 and 2, Sophomore Class Level 1 and 2….

After Senior Class Level 1 and 2, you have Master Class Level 1 and 2.

-- Missions/Careers –

As soon as your egg hatches you are assigned to creature classes where you and your new partner learn to work together. This can be like training a new dog. The creature may love and respect you… but it’s still a baby and it wants to play more than it wants to listen. This is also where you can choose a career. If your creature heals things, you might be a doctor, a field medic, or a certified white mage ;-). If it vomits lava… maybe be a geologist? If you have a high aptitude for anything, you might be a creature tamer and train to care for and adopt out creatures whose owners failed. Creatures can be adopted out to people who score high, are actually able to take on another partner, and can synchronize with the creature. It’s a creature trainer’s job to help the creature adapt to the idea of joining with a different meister and another creature.

Otherwise, it’s a lot like a regular university. Find a major and pick it. Not many rules here, if you can think of a career that might go with this world, go for it. Otherwise, you’re a soldier. All soldiers train and learn and can take classes on anything they want, but they also go through combat and field training and are specialized based on aptitudes.

Missions are posted in the quad and different locations such as the counselor’s office, creature classrooms, and hospital. They all have different levels based on grade, year, and creature age. You may team up to accomplish tougher missions. They also pay- as they were commissioned to the school and you get a bit of the profit. Sometimes, however, missions will be handed out by university staff.

Once you graduate, you are ranked at the top and get the highest paying jobs. You are officially a professional.

[FangedSmile]

Damsel's last class of the day was a study hall designed to help students catch up with work they missed while on assignments. Essentially, the class was three hours of eclectic busy work as tutors and graduate students bounced from group-to-group and person-to-person. The lecture halls weren't conductive to group study, so most of the study hall classes were held in a second library where class notes and recordings were available. Some students sat at their port screens (basically laptops) with headphones on and watched recorded lectures, others separated into groups to go over the notes and work on assignments. Damsel sat alone with large highly-visible copper-colored headphones on, decoding a ciphered message as part of her Encryption class assignment, while Kalista munched on thin straws of silver.

She finished and submitted the assignment electronically before one of the tutors could offer to review it for her. Last thing she wanted was someone acting like they were the reason she was passing all her courses. She waved the tutor off, feigning like she'd forgotten to ask for help, and was saved from too much awkwardness when the bell rang.

As soon as her belongings were packed and Kalisha had finished her last snack, Damsel offered a courtesy "thank you" to the study hall leader and escaped into the fresh air.

Outside, the campus gleamed with its polished limestone buildings that were complimented by the lush greenery and plentiful fountains, pools, and moat water features (for water creatures). The school colors were teal/blue and a bright, slightly golden yellow, offset with black and white. The campus had an open feel with plenty of intricate metal work and accents that mixed delicate older styles with more geometric modern art. Most could be seen through, to help maintain the airy feel of the grounds. It had an artsy vibe as well, and there were small stages dotted around so out-door demonstrations and classes could be held without compromising the landscaping.

Like this, but with the school colors and more northern plants instead of palm trees.

As the throng of students grew, Damsel picked up her pace and headed to the Quad. The cherry blossom trees were starting to bloom and booths were being set up for a club fair, but her gaze was focused on the large decagon (often just called the Deck, so jobs posted there were On Deck. If an instructor told you that you were ‘on deck’ it meant you needed to get a mission. Missions can also be assigned to you even if you’re not on deck) in the absolute center, where different missions were separated by rank. Upperclassmen were standing off to the side, boasting loudly about their successes and offering assistance to freshman and sophomores.

Damsel smirked at the sight. A senior couldn’t take a Freshman Level mission on their own. However, freshmen could party with an upperclassman in order to complete a Freshman Level mission. She could see the logic in that type of deal. It allowed a beginner to complete their first mission quickly and with relative ease and safety, while the upperclassman didn’t have to take any risks. They each got credit for completing a mission and often made more money because they could go in small numbers instead of trying to create large groups and split the reward between everyone. (Like when all the level 5 people try to group up and kill level 30 bosses)

The catch, however, was that you couldn’t just rip a listing off the decagon and run with it. You had to sign it out and it was recorded. If you actually wanted to rise in the listings, you couldn’t afford to hold back. Damsel headed to the Senior Level 2 side and was happy to see it was only blocked by two bickering classmates.

“Which one are you guys doing?” asked Damsel, with a blunt air that she tried to hold back by offering a smile. They looked over at her and she could feel their moods deflate.

“…Not sure yet…” answered Rachel Scott, a girl whose egg had hatched two days after Damsel’s had. Rachel had a falcon whose feathers looked like outer space, and eyes that mimicked Neptune. Damsel, owner of a caterpillar, and Rachel, owner of a bird, had not been fast friends.

“You're taking another mission?” demanded Jessica Friedman, owner of a 4-foot five-year-old varg the color of soot and snow. “Didn’t you just do one?”

“Babysitting gig. I was told to be an escort,” replied Damsel, not hiding the fact that she'd found the entire thing irritating.

“Yes,” intoned Rachel, with half-lidded eyes so show she wasn’t accepting Damsel’s tone. “To a high-brow gala.”

“The instructor said I was back On Deck, so now I’m looking for something I’ll actually want to stay awake during,” said Damsel, quickly. The looks she received showed she wasn’t going to get any sympathy for her evening at a fancy ballroom where she had to accompany the CEO of Westbrook’s eldest son and make sure no one tried to kill him. Honestly it had been painstakingly uncomfortable as people from her old life suddenly encountered her in her new one. Most, it seemed, had assumed she’d dropped out. So her cover as a spy was solid, though her ego took a hit.

“Look,” intoned Damsel, when her peers continued to stare disapprovingly. “I don’t want my grade to reflect my ability to stand next to a guy and make sure a bunch of completely non-violent rich people try to stab him with an hors d'oeuvre pick. Either choose a mission, or move aside so I can.”

The nearby Mission Deployment Analyst, hearing the snark, peered around the Deck. Instead of lecturing Damsel, he pushed his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose and stared down at the neatly organized clipboard in his hands. Without looking up, he adopted a tone of expectantly disappointed authority. “Ms. Vespiro, if you’re finally bored of your attempts to start a fight, you’ve been assigned a new mission.”

“Another boring one?” asked Damsel, missing the bigger picture as her distaste for being told what to do clawed its way to the surface. Her entire year had been like this. She'd been hoping to finally sneak by and get a piece of the action. "Pass."

The MDA let his eyes study her face, never stopping in one particular spot and seeming to see through her instead of finding anything particularly appealing about her features. “Ms. Vespiro,” he said, at last in a tone dripping with bored irritation. “Have you forgotten that this university owns your Geminanima?"

At the thinly veiled threat, all three girls tensed like they were freshmen students with unhatched eggs that could be taken away in an instant. They'd all seen someone lose their creature, or been told the stories. Even though they knew their grades were good and they were completing the missions with at least a 70% completion rate.

"I just meant that..." Damsel placed her hand protectively over Kali. "I was transferred here because fewer people outside the university know who I am. I have surveillance training and Kali is perfect for that. If I keep getting thrown into situations where I have to be around people I used to know then my cover will eventually dissolve--"

"-You just meant that the school doesn't know what is best for you?" interrupted the MDA. " They've spent money on you for absolutely no reason? You need to get it through your head that your prima donna attitude is not acceptable."

As the lecture went on, Damsel's shoulders drooped and her will to fight faded. She stayed silent and he saved her from having to verbally apologize, though she could tell he was tempted. It was vital for staff members to put the students in their place every now and then- considering the people they were lecturing had monsters with them- but that didn't mean it didn't leave her feeling harassed.

"Any problems?" he asked sharply.

"No sir," she replied in the tone of someone thoroughly browbeaten. I'll head to the Field Mission coordinator's office."

"No," the MDA replied, as he handed her a piece of paper with a specific name and office on it. "Report here in ten minutes."

Stifling the argument that the office he had directed her to was on the other side of campus, Damsel nodded stiffly and began running. The giggles from her classmates grated on her nerves as she went, but she was twenty minutes away from a destination she had to be at in ten minutes so she couldn't even spare the time to flip them off.

[B. B. Wolf]

Franklin Graves, usually just Graves to those who knew him (more because people thought it was a cool name than because he preferred it), swung his legs over the hospital bed. His ribs felt sore, but the nurse that had just seen him assured him that the scans showed no evidence of breakage or fracturing. She'd given him a grandmotherly smile and a pat on the head as she told him that he was free to go and could change out of the hospital gown whenever he was ready. Graves sighed. She was a great nurse. He'd seen her a couple of times. Late forties, gray hair, and a round shape with an amazingly caring (if sometimes stern) personality. He shouldn't complain. But once, just once, he'd love to come in and have a pretty young nurse fawn over him like in the movies. Was it really to much to ask? He didn't think so. Then again, he might not be having that thought if his missions didn't so often stick him in the emergency wing as soon as he'd gotten back! At least this time it was just some bruised ribs. Last time he'd been on crutches. And the time before that he'd had to get an egregious number of stitches. And the time before that- Well, no use in dwelling on the past.

The soft his of scales sliding on the linoleum floor alerted him to Itzy's approach. She slithered forward, nostrils flaring slightly as she sniffed along his side. She didn't have the forked tongue that a lot of reptiles sported and it always made Graves chuckle when she sniffed curiously at something. A burst of colors and intent flitted across Graves thoughts. So used to the strange form of empathic communication Itzel used now, he didn't even have to think about the response.

"I'll be fine. You heard the nurse, I'm fit to go as soon as I change. Which I'd like to do soon if you're done warming my clothes up," he said, motioning with his head toward the pile of clothing Itzel had been sleeping on. With a croaking, growling sound, Itzel slithered off of Graves clothes and onto the floor, but not before 'adjusting' her wings and giving her partner a face full of iridescent feathers. After spitting part of a stray feather out of his mouth and giving Itzel the stink eye (which she promptly ignored) Graves picked up his clothes. The shirt was ruined due his impromptu tumble down a desert mountain, and his pants, originally olive drab green, were now mostly a sandy brown color, but that was easily remedied with a clothes washer. His boots were still in good condition though, which was good because he couldn't really afford another pair at the moment.

His wrist-mounted holographic module (WHM) had not faired so well, unfortunately. He looked at the smashed piece of technology, wincing internally as the cost of replacing it seemed to stick to the front of his thoughts. Heaving a large sigh, he slipped the broken gadget into his pocket. Maybe if he showed proof that he damaged it in the course of a mission, they'd give him some kind of replacement, or discount, or at least a fancy pen. Better than nothing, right?

After he finished getting dressed he strode toward the door and Itzel. Itzel, sensing Graves was ready to go, slither over to him and wrapped around his body a few times before resting her head over his shoulder and closing her eyes. Graves, trying not to wince as she slid over his bruised ribs, walked toward the door. It hissed open automatically, and his name cleared from the digital display on the outside. The sterile looking walls of the hospital surrounded him as he made his way to the check out counter, distorting his reflection on their bluish metal like surfaces. He ran a hand through his dirty hair and grimaced. Definitely needed a shower, he thought to himself.

"Excuse me, are you Frank Graves?"

Graves halted in his footsteps. Turning slowly, so as not to scare away the sweet, delicate creature this voice must belong to, Graves looked back toward the check out. She was surprisingly tall, almost as tall as he was. Her hair was long, red, and curly, tied back into a ponytail while she worked. Her pale, feminine features and vibrant green eyes were something he was sure songs were sung about, and he could barely look past that to the rest of her. She was slim, but well curved in all the right places, and he couldn't help but wonder at how his luck had changed. How did she know him? Maybe she saw him coming in from his missions so much and had inquired after him. Perhaps she had a thing for the ruggedness of his countenance. He certainly wasn't ugly, though he'd never call himself handsome. But maybe she liked that.

After staring for a moment, these thoughts racing through his mind, Graves finally seemed to come back to himself. He smiled what he thought might be a winning smile and watched as her face, which a minute ago showed some concern as he had just stood there, lit up in an amazing show of beauty.

"Why yes, I am," Graves said. He turned to fully face her as she approached him, still grinning at him. "Is there something I can help you with, miss..."

She coyly bit her lip and handed him a piece of paper folded in half. Okay, he thought, just stay calm. Act like you get contact numbers all the time. Don't blow it!

Graves calmly unfolded the piece of paper, still smiling at this beautiful young nurse. Once it was flattened out he glanced down.

Franklin Graves,

You are to report to director Marianne Goldfields office immediately upon your release from the hospital to collect your next mission brief. You are welcome to take care of any hygiene issues first, but please do not dally.

-Sincerely, Jen Haize

P.S. Miss Goldfield says to stop harassing the nurses, your smolder need work.

His face fell, the nurse bit back a giggle.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Graves," she said as she walked away.

Graves just stood there as he saw everything that had just happened in the last two minutes in a completely different light. He looked up just in time to see the red headed nurse turn a corner, giggling. He looked back down at the note. Itzel shifted forward slightly to sniff at it. Deciding it wasn't tasty, she lay back down on his shoulder. Graves narrowed his eyes at the note.

"Biiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!" he muttered.

[FangedSmile]

“Sorry!” called Damsel, addressing the perturbed underclassman that had almost been trampled. “What- Don’t slow down,” she added, this time speaking to the owner of the unicorn.

Nikolai Rodnavov (hey, why not) had hauled around his egg in a wagon, thinking it would hatch into a dragon or some monstrous beast… not a cast member of My Little Pony. The filly had wobbled to her feet, to the encouraging cheers of those gathered in the quad, and fell adorably into the cherry blossom petals until at long last she stood triumphantly and gave a delighted whinny. Having stood for the first time in her life, the filly immediately tried to run. She then fell down, and trial-and-errored her way to a sort of hopping, frolicking gait where glittery sparks erupted wherever her hooves landed. Then she looked to her meister and hopped closer. She looked at him, he looked at her… then she reared back, head-butted him in the thigh with her horn, and their relationship began.

Nik’s classmates quit laughing (as much) when she grew into a dappled gray, horned, percheron who looked like an oncoming storm with her long dark mane, tail and feathered legs. Adaliah, as she’d been named, was lightning fast and at four years of age she stood six feet tall from the top of her shoulder to the ground. Her horn looked like polished onyx and her gaze was steel… and her best friend was a butterfly.

Adaliah’s hooves could stomp the ground and sound like a crack of lightning, though they usually just sounded like the distant grumble of storm clouds. This was great for missions, but not very helpful in alerting people to the need to get out of the way. As the buildings blurred past and he actively had to leap over a couple freshmen, Nik spared a glance back at his passenger. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he sneered. “It’s just that you don’t understand how much of a pain it is to scrape people out of her hooves.”

Ignoring him, Damsel looked towards the clock tower and grinned. What should have taken at least half an hour had instead taken seven minutes and all she had to do was deal with some bitching. Kali was perched on the unicorn’s horn, hanging on tightly but not appearing very concerned with the speed. She and the unicorn were old friends even if their owners didn’t hang out beyond their similar classes. (Remember, he was covert affairs as well).

As their destination came into view, Nik pulled the reigns and Adaliah slowed quickly, leaving sparks and a thin trail of fire behind. “This is why we’re not allowed to walk on the grass,” Nik explained, when he noticed a freshman staring at the fading trail.

“Thanks. Bye,” said Damsel, as she jumped off the unicorn. Kali released her grip and swooped down to land on Damsel’s shoulder. Nik watched, unamused, and made a mental note to demand payment upfront next time. He was about to express this notion, when a staff member rushed towards them looking ruffled and furious.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, practically molting with frustration. “You could have killed someone! All this running about. What’s happened? What are you here for?”

“I was invited,” said Damsel, thinking about the time and also how much she did not want this woman following her to her appointment. Adaliah began stomping the ground with her front-left hoof, so lightning cracked at her feet. The staff member watched this with eyes that could only have been more enraged if they could fly out of their sockets and attack.

“And what are YOU doing?” she demanded.

“I was voluntold,” said Nik, with the air of someone already bored. He didn’t care for the disapproving mother hen types, let alone someone who was fighting the good fight from the comfort of a cubicle. Damsel crept backwards once the woman’s attention was off of her, and traveled backwards up the stairs, with Nik watching her in amusement out of the corner of his eye.

“I want your name. Now!” shouted the staff member.

Nik grinned wide and Adaliah pranced showily, increasing the noise and the sparks. “Oh, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding me,” he chided, before flicking his heels into the unicorn so that she reared and trotted off around the building.

Damsel used the speed and stealth she’d been trained to have in order to enter the building and approach the room she was supposed to enter in one minute. Taking a breath and smoothing out her hair and clothing (and hoping no one associated her with the brief commotion outside), she steadied herself and read the name on the door. She’d never met this Ms. Goldfield before, but knew she was one of the higher-ups. As Damsel entered the office she found herself facing off with a secretary who didn’t seem to be waiting for her.

“I was told to-” Damsel began, though the secretary continued to stare at the door and simply told Damsel:

“Have a seat, we’re waiting on someone.”

Feeling perturbed after her wild dash to get there on time, Damsel yet again had to bite her tongue and obey the orders given to her. She glanced at the clock on the wall which was showcasing her punctuality, and couldn’t help but be at least a little bitter. Why tell her to be there by a specific time if they were willing to wait? Who was important enough to wait on, if Ms. Goldfield was high ranking? Where was this person now, and why did they need to come at all? All these questions, and more, were to be answered soon-ish.

[B. B. Wolf]

Graves was not in a particularly good mood. The more his thoughts lingered on this last mission, the more he didn't like the smell of it. The last few months had seen him on multiple treasure hunting missions for lack of a better term, and he'd performed rather admirably at those if he did say so himself. However, as time went on more than a few of those missions left out a good number of what he considered to be important details, such as what particular significance a particular artifact might have to the group that was looking for it. Or, perhaps of even more importance, what particular significance the artifact might have to someone else. Someone willing to throw a down on his luck university student off the side of a cliff.

A twinge of pain from his ribs broke him from his train of thought as someone brushed against him in the quad. Although shoved might be a more accurate term. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed his suspicions. The glares he got from the group now walking slowly away from him told him everything he needed to know. He looked away and quickened his pace. Nearly seven years and people still looked at him like some sort of villain for running off with Itzel. Like he was the bad guy for not wanting some strangers that had never even looked at the egg to take her from him. He frowned at the ground, watching just far enough ahead of him to avoid running into someone. He never understood how people could think of him like that. Try to take away what they worked so hard, put so much love into, and they'd probably do the same thing. Yet he was the monster. Mission after mission to prove that they'd made the right choice to give him a second chance and he was still second rate.

A shadow passed over him, and a dark blue emotion tinged with a brighter purple soared through his subconscious. Graves looked up as Itzel made another pass and the color pattern repeated. He just watched for a moment, the sun playing through Itzy's iridescent plumage, making it seem as if she were merely a serpent floating between two rainbows. After a moment he shook his head, slapped his cheeks a couple of times, and continued on. Itzel was right, no use dwelling on old wounds. You could drive yourself crazy doing that. Just as he was about to take another step, he heard what sounded like a storm galloping toward him. With a smooth sidestep and a quick spin, he moved out of the way just in time as a student riding an enormous gray unicorn flew past, a trail of fire in his wake. He lifted his hand in a quick wave as he continued down the street.

"Hey man, nice moves!" he heard. Graves saw a fist lifted into the air near him and bumped it with his own.

"Thanks bro, it'll never happen again," he replied.

"Ha! Yeah, I know how that is. Peace man."

"See you."

Well, maybe everything wasn't so bad, he thought. Sometimes, you just have to stop and dodge the unicorns. A flash of lavender and yellow gave Graves the impression of eyes rolling. He decided against responding.

At the front door of Ms. Goldfields office he paused long enough for Itzel to join him. She swooped down low, dodging between students and Gaminamina alike before flaring her wings out and settling ever so gently on Graves shoulders and backpack, her tail wrapping around his waist and leg. A small twinge of pain reminded him again (as if he needed another reminder) of his bruised ribs. With a sigh, Graves pushed the door open and walked in. Immediately, he noticed three things. One, Jen had a very please little smirk on her face which indicated she knew exactly what had gone down at the hospital. Two, someone else was waiting outside Ms. Goldfields office and she did not look particularly pleased. Finally, Ms. Goldfields office door was closed which meant she way either out (very unlikely) or...

Graves nodded politely to the attractive girl sitting on the couch before turning his attention to Jen.

"I'm late, aren't I?"

[FangedSmile]

Damsel noticed the newcomer and felt this nagging sensation that she should recognize him. At the moment, however, she wasn't feeling too inclined to care. She now owed Nik a favor and all along she could have taken her time? Absurd! She noticed the polite wave and softened a bit. Okay... he at least didn't seem too bad, if she was being honest. Kalista had fixed herself to Damsel's hair like a frail ornament and was already asleep. The newcomer's Geminanima was much more noticeable.

Damsel hadn't seen too many people with dragons, and never one so colorful. She noticed that the Geminanima looked unharmed while the Geminanima meister looked to have been put through the mill a bit. His casual way with the secretary made her even more curious to who he was. She supposed he was a year or two above her, so was this a chance to move up in the world? Was she being recognized for her skill and paired with someone more experienced because they were going to move her up a year?

About damn time, she thought as her features relaxed into a smug grin.

--

Ms. Goldfield sat in her office, waiting to hear a gasp or outcry. It was hard to match Mr. Graves to a partner because most were bitter against him. She'd hoped the Damsel, having been on the other side of the continent during the incident, would not recognize him. And hopefully she would be useful as well, though Ms. Goldfield didn't know too much about her beyond that fact that she was an heiress to a very large and powerful family.

[B. B. Wolf]

Jen Haize couldn't really hide her smirk as Graves came into the office. She tried not to let it show on her face, but she knew it showed in her eyes, and she couldn't quite hide behind her brown bangs. She did, however, manage to turn it into something of a "I'm surprised and somewhat disappointed in you" grin. Had to keep him on his toes, after all.

"You are, as a matter of fact. I do believe my note was rather succinct, was it not?" she asked. She knew it wasn't, and she also knew all she had to do if he argued with her was mention that curly hair red-head she'd asked to give him the note and he'd clam up and turn a very similar shade himself. In fact, she was quite surprised he wasn't ogling their esteemed guest on the couch. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be up for the games today, as he only nodded and and looked at her as if he was deeply sorrowful. While puppy dog eyes didn't usually work on Jen, she did notice that he seemed exhausted, and that he winced whenever Itzy shifted on him. She decided to take a little pity on him this time.

"Itzy, honey, would you like something to snack on? I have some of that mango chewies that you like!"

Itzel looked up at Graves as if asking permission, a myriad of colors translating to worry, want, and a little tiredness flashing through his mind. Graves merely nodded with a small nod and braced himself as she slid across the minor debris on the desk and coiling up around Jens chair, searching out the proffered candies. Jen smiled and slid a manicured nail along her back, causing her to arch up into the touch a little. She glanced at Graves, then looked at Damsel as she fished the candies out of her drawer with her other hand.

"Ms. Goldfield will see you both now," and then to Damsel, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Graves nodded again and moved toward the door. He opened it and stepped to the side, offering for Damsel to go first with a tired, sweeping gesture. He tried to keep a smile on his face, but he had a bad feeling about this.

---------

Ms. Goldfield was seated behind her desk, leaning back comfortably and reading a set of reports. She did not look to be in a very good mood at all. She wasn't scowling. She seemed above that. Her sharp eyes, looking through a pair of slim reading glasses, narrowed ever so slightly as she continued to read. One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows was slightly raised, and the corner of her mouth twitched as normally plush lips were pressed into a thin, red line. Her pointed chin rested on her thumb and blood red tipped index finger rubbed at a spot on her head as if forcing a migraine away. She was very pretty, in the same way a tiger was right before it yawned and showed you those huge teeth.

Then she looked up and her demeanor completely changed. The muscles in her face relaxed, a the tightness in her mouth relaxed to show more of her full lips, and a small smile shown through. The only thing that didn't seem to change were her eyes. Graves thought she still looked like a shark. Quite frankly, she scared the bejeezus out of him.

"Mr. Graves, Ms. Vespiro. Please, have a seat," she gestured to the two plush chairs in front of them, her voice low and husky at the same time. The entire office had that comfortable look to it. Nice, big furniture, soft carpet, a large wooden desk and side tables. Ms. Goldfield, however, made it all seem like it was one big trap. The spider, luring in two flies. Graves, of course, had a very active imagination. Ms. Goldfield looked straight at him, as if gazing directly into his soul.

"Was your previous mission a success?"

Graves opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and, instead of attempting speech again, reached into his backpack and retrieved a small bundle wrapped in what looked to be part of a sail. He set it on the table gently and sat back. Ms. Goldfield raised an eyebrow at the item, then looked at Graves without moving her head. Graves shrugged and tried to leave it at that. Ms. Goldfields icy gaze convinced him to try talking again, however.

"It's a sharp knife, and the sail cloth was handy."

Again without moving her head, Ms. Goldfield glanced back down at the wrapped bundle. She reached out and gently, with just the tips of her fingers, unfolded the cloth to reveal a beautiful, if old, ornamental dagger. As she tried to removed the last fold, however, the knife moved with it, not wanting to let go. Something sticky was keeping them together. Ms. Goldfield stopped and glanced again at Graves. Graves smiled nervously. Ms. Goldfield raised her eyebrow. Graves smile wavered.

"It works as intended?" he asked.

Ms. Goldfield, without taking her eyes off of Graves, wrapped the dagger back up and set it in her desk drawer before turning her gaze toward Damsel.

"Damsel Vespiro. Your name has been recommended to me a few times in the last few months. I understand you have done some exemplary work in your time here, but are unhappy with your current missions. Is there any particular reason for this? Or perhaps, are you merely looking for a change of pace?" she asked. Graves relaxed a little now that the petrifying gaze of this Gorgon queen was no longer directed toward him.

[FangedSmile]

Damsel nodded her thanks as Graves allowed her to enter the office first, though her appreciation for the chivalry dimmed once she actually saw the office. She moved forward as if right at home, though she picked up on Graves' nervousness and couldn't stop her stomach from twisting and her mouth from going dry. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea why she was even there. Every face she saw was new to her. She sat down easily, though that was mainly because the desire to leave was overpowered by the feeling that it was too late for that.

If she had wanted to avoid this, she should not have come in the first place.

As the door closed behind them, she thought back to the waiting room. It had been official and pleasant, lending no foreshadowing to the woman lurking within the office itself. The lighting in the office came from the executive-style view behind the woman, a lamp on her desk that was illuminating a stack of papers, and a few dim lights on the walls which emphasized the deep rec color and illuminated books and diplomas. Add that to the fact that the sun was beginning to set, setting the sky ablaze behind her, threw forward a super villain vibe that wasn’t calming in the least. No motivational posters or pictures of pets and family could be immediately seen- though Damsel was primarily focused on the woman herself.

Ms. Goldfield looked immaculate and strict; her beauty sharply outlined by a sense of rank and authority. The atmosphere was familiar, but Damsel wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it. Her family usually sat on the other side of the desk, after all.

As the woman spoke to the latecomer, Damsel listened curiously. This woman seemed to have taken a special interest in this ‘Graves’ character. Again, Damsel was irked by the feeling that she’d heard that name on campus. She made a note of the feeling and observed the rest of their interaction. Graves seemed to be the person Ms. Goldfield sent out on missions that could not fail or were more secretive. That was intriguing. Most students didn’t get missions in this manner until they had graduated and were officially hired by the University as mercenaries, spies, faculty, or staff.

When she noticed the dagger, her intrigue grew. A treasure hunter? She thought to the wounds Graves had. Not hunting for your average treasure then. With that dragon, it wasn't likely that he was breaking into vaults. He was going after items that you don't obtain subtly.

When Ms. Goldfield finally addressed her, Damsel could guess where the conversation was going- or at least where she hoped it was going. She perceived the questions as flattery and immediately felt more at ease in the office. Not truly relaxed, but at least her heart was not thudding in her ears anymore. This woman had heard of her, and not just for her family? Excellent! Maybe she’d finally get to prove herself and get out of babysitting duty.

“Yes ma’am,” she began cordially. “With all due respect, the missions I’ve received this year-” She caught herself at that moment and remembered the earlier run-in with the MDA. “…Disrespect the University’s esteemed reputation,” she covered as best she could without pausing to think of something better to say. “They’re babysitting missions the freshmen could accomplish easily, save for the fact that the people writing the checks refuse to hire anyone below a junior. I’m not sure why I was categorized as a candidate for them, but… they do not enable me to practice the skills I’ve learned during my time here. I’m always in the top 20% in my courses, but people scoring lower than me get better missions.” Her thoughts traveled to Nik, who had come back from an overseas job where he had uncovered a plot to kidnap a monarch and start a war… while she’d been at a glorified dinner party.

[B. B. Wolf]

Graves was somewhat surprised. He was worried (and rightly so, he was to find out later) that this was going to be another attempt to find him a viable partner. After all, most of the missions he was sent out on were meant to have teams. But someone in the higher echelons of their esteemed society had decided in his/her infinite wisdom that Graves didn't need a partner. If he had the know how and capabilities to avoid the law for as long as he had, he shouldn't need another person to help him with these missions. And every time Ms. Goldfield got permission to find him a partner, his pariah status caused... tension. There had actually been an instance when his partner tried to leave him in the desert in the hopes that he would die from dehydration. Graves was able to get back just in time to see that guy get an award for completing their mission on his own. When he'd reported what actually happened, he was told that it was 'an unfortunate misunderstanding'. But what truly surprised him was that this girl hadn't given him any looks of disgust or shown any indication that she knew who he was. Perhaps this would go better than previous missions.

Then, he got a little worried. If there was one thing he hated, it was someone who didn't appreciate what they had. While escort missions could be boring, if you did a good job then more often than not you had a good recommendation not only from the school for doing well on missions, but from the client as well. He'd only been on one escort mission like that, and his 'partner' had, once again, gotten all the credit. Maybe his view was skewed because of his experiences, but it didn't seem like something to complain about. Then again, perhaps he shouldn't complain as much. Ms. Goldfield had helped him out a lot in the past, despite reminding him of a hungry shark.

Graves shifted in his chair a little, making himself a bit more comfortable. He rested his elbow on the arm and his chin in his hand. Ms. Goldfields attention was on this Damsel girl now, so he could relax a little. And he was oh so tired. He'd been able to write up a report and send it in on the hospitals public comp systems, so he didn't have to do that. Hopefully whatever they had in mind for him this time would give him a couple days of rest. Yeah, that'd be grreeeeat.

---

Ms. Goldfield raised a perfect eyebrow at Damsel's quick cover, just barely suppressing a smirk. She could understand wanting a change of pace. There had been a four month stint when she was in her seventh year where all she did was surveillance missions. It was rather irksome. She glanced briefly at Graves and almost lost her composure again when she saw the almost imperceptible frown on his face. Graves would probably kill for the chance to do some of those escort missions. She lost some of her mirth at that thought though, and turned her gaze back to Damsel. Unfortunately for Graves, her superiors didn't plan on sending down anything with a low risk and a high reward. Fortunately for Damsel, she had yet another difficult mission to hand out. She just hoped that Damsel wasn't like the previous candidates for partners she'd been given. What she was, was hungry for a challenge. Not reputation. Which may or may not come back to bite Graves in the butt.

Ms. Goldfield leaned in, fingers interlocked with her hands resting on top of a folder on her desk.

"Well, Ms. Vespiro, today is your lucky day. A few of your previous 'babysitting' missions have given you quite the recommendation, and I have been given permission to pull one of a limited number of students for a particular retrieval. Your name was on that list. Trust me when I say you will likely need all the skills in your arsenal for this mission. The particulars are in this folder. If you would like me to send them to your Holo-Mod, leave your code with me and I'll make sure you get them. Speaking of,"

She turned her gaze back to Graves, her brow creasing in either worry or irritation, Graves was never sure.

"I sent you a message when you returned and did not receive a reply. Is something wrong with your holo-mod?"

Graves breathed in another nervous breath and reached into his backpack, pulling out the smashed remains of his hand-me-down holo mod. Ms. Goldfields other eyebrow rose now.

"Well, that is unfortunate," she said.

Graves nodded slowly and swallowed nervously.

"I was hoping," he started, as if he were a child asking his parent for something he knew they would disapprove of, "That I could put in a requisition form for a newer model. This one was glitching even before the, ah... incident."

Ms. Goldfield held his gaze for a moment with that slightly disapproving expression on her face. Just long enough to let him know that this could not be a regular occurrence. After she felt the unvoiced message was accurately received, she pulled a sheet out of one of her drawers, scribbled a couple of details down on it, signed it and handed it to Graves.

"This is not the latest model, but it will serve your needs and has a military grade casing on it, so will be a lot sturdier than what you're used to. I trust you'll be able to keep this one in one piece?" she asked. Graves nodded, smiling in relief as he took the form. She handed them each a folder and smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You two will be working together on this mission. I trust you can introduce yourselves, but do make it quick, your transport leaves in about eight hours. You are dismissed. Good luck on your mission."

At that she turned her head back to her paperwork. Graves stood and exited the room, again holding the door for Damsel. With a small wave to Jen, he collected Itzel, who wrapped herself around Graves again, and headed toward the exit. It wasn't until he was outside that he turned to Damsel and held out his hand.

"Well, looks like we're partners for a time. The names Franklin Graves, though most just call me Graves. This beauty is Itzel. Don't let those vicious teeth fool you, she's a sweetheart. A little shy sometimes, though."

True to word, Itzel stayed wrapped around Graves, watching Damsel with interest over and slightly behind his shoulder.

[FangedSmile]

Damsel had readily provided the code to her holo-mod by handing over a business card with her first name and contact info written in a polished leather-brown card accented with gold leaf- Kalista had already ruined a few of them by removing the gold leaf as if licking the frosting off a cupcake. Damsel never a chance to use them anyway, because the people she helped on missions were not people she wanted to see again or have recommendations from. That was what usually lead to the constant cycle of similar jobs. She could have handled a high-brow affair that was actually important and at risk of being crashed by a terrorist sect, or even done snooping for a new owner who feared his or her board of directors was undermining said new owner’s authority… but everything she got was just trust fund recipients whose parents were feeling overly protective.

As she sat in Ms. Goldfield’s office she could only try her best to compose herself now that everything she’d been wanting to happen was finally happening- though she wasn’t quite sure she’d ever be able to pry that satisfied grin off her face. Let’s see that MDA try to threaten her now. He’d never dare… if she managed to complete this mission successfully.

That was the thought that struck her as she followed Franklin Graves out of the room. If. A very ugly word. She wasn’t sure why she had not taken the file and looked it over at least once before leaving the room, but it was too late to go back. Whatever the details were, she’d get them soon enough and just had to hope this was something she could do. She glanced forward at Frank, and deeply hoped they wouldn’t be leaving today. He didn’t look like he was in any condition to take on a new mission.

That was another oddity. Graves was hurt and instead of taking make up classes and getting caught up while he recovered, he had been given another mission. Maybe he’d graduated? That was possible… She had just arrived at that conclusion when he spun to introduce himself.

“Nice to meet you both,” said Damsel, accepting the offer of a handshake. “You can call me Damsel.” She flickered her eyes to the side and added: “This is Kalista.” The butterfly, realizing she was being introduced, fluttered her wings daintily. ”She’s pretty tame as well, if the moment allows.”

She paused briefly to watch the woman who had yelled at her earlier round the corner for yet another tour of sticking her nose into everyone else’s business. Though, the woman looked far less annoyed this time around, so perhaps she was ordinarily friendly.

“Anyway," she said, turning her attention back to Graves. "Are you okay?”

[B. B. Wolf]

Graves blinked in surprise. What he had taken as a pretty hair ornament was actually, apparently, Damsel's Geminanima. The clockwork butterflies wings fluttered gently. She was certainly a gorgeous specimen, and Graves wondered how she worked. Did she eat? If she did, what did she eat? How did she digest it? What did the waste turn into. Graves was just about to ask one of those questions when Damsel beat him to the punch with her own. He tore his gaze away from Kalista to look at Damsel, almost as if seeing her for the first time. For a moment he was rendered speechless. This girl was stunning. Graves felt his breath catch as he took in her heart-stoppingly beautiful face, marred by a frown of concern. Reality shortly set in, however. Obviously this girl wasn't exactly familiar with who he was. The fact that she'd stayed long enough to introduce herself proved that, and her asking after his health told him that she would at least take this assignment seriously. Hopefully, when she did find out who he was, she wouldn't try to leave him for dead somewhere. Graves tried not to think about the 'system' screwing him over. He knew it was petty and ridiculous. But the fact that the majority of his previous partners had gone so far as to receive awards for the same things that he'd been practically punished for made it hard not to think like that sometimes. Still, no use in being bitter. He looked down at himself and smiled sheepishly.

"I should be. A couple of bruised ribs, nothing serious. I'm just being a baby about it today," he replied with a chuckle. He tried to hide the wince that brought on. Itzel slithered down Graves' body, coiling up at his feet and still eyeing Damsel and Kalista. A light shade of yellow conveyed a sense of curiosity to Graves. He reached down and gave her head a rub in response, sending calming emotions toward her.

A closer look at Damsel revealed a couple of other things to Graves. For instance, he was pretty sure she came from money. Possibly old money. Her stature seemed practice. Maybe a step below regal, but definitely controlled. Her clothes were of a higher quality than he could have afforded even on a good month. Finally, she looked like she might be about the same age as him, which meant that she was at least a year ahead of him. That was a little strange. Normally he was paired with someone a year or so below himself, so that it made them look good when they succeeded and he failed. Then again, maybe someone just wanted this girl to get some wider experience. She certainly seemed to want that. He looked at his holo-mod before he remembered it was broken.

"Well, I need to pick up this holo-mod and make some preparations for the classes I'll miss. I imagine you'll want to do the same. With the classes, I mean. Not the, uh... holo... mod."

A flash of pink wiggled into his mind, teasing him for stuttering in front of a pretty girl. He gave Itzel a look that was promptly ignored before looking back at Damsel.

"Wanna meet somewhere in a few hours and discuss how we plan to go about this mission?" he asked.

[FangedSmile]

Nikolai ‘s right foot had just hit the ground as he was climbing down off of Adaliah, when a large man grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him backwards onto one of the benches.

“OW!” Nik shouted, more in outrage than actual pain. “What the fuck is your pr-r-r-” His protest was stalled by the badge the mountain was wearing. “No!” he shouted at Adaliah, who was in attack pose and all-too willing to impale the person assaulting her partner.

The man didn’t seem bothered by the reaction and stood with only a raised eyebrow as the towering horse snorted and paced angrily behind him.

Once he was sure the unicorn was not going to claim vengeance, Nik took a breath and lowered the hand he was holding out as if to physically stop the horse from attacking. His next concern was the people who had stopped everything they were doing when they heard him yell. Not too many so far, but enough to feed the rumor mill if things turned sour. He did his best to compose himself and put forth an attitude that was light-hearted instead of displaying how irritated he was.

“…Alright,” he said lightly, in response to the man’s ongoing silence. “What can I do for a member of the disciplinary team?” He tried to stand, but was stopped by a hand placed on his chest as the man ordered,

“Sit.”

A few bystanders who were also classmates failed to stifle laughter and held dumb grins when he looked at them. This changed Nik’s mood from tentative, to ticked. Still riding the high of his last highly-successful mission, he couldn’t believe it was even possible for him to be in trouble. He’d just stopped a major war and saved a monarch. That had to trump anything he could get himself up to at the school. When he didn’t relax, however, the man pushed him back down onto the bench and then retreated back a step with crossed arms and a disappointed stare.

Nik stared back at the man and easily-read confusion grew in his features, replacing the normal smugness and the forced amusement he was trying to portray.

Still no words. No ordering the looky-loos to go to class. No attempts to explain the situation. No lecture. Nothing. Disciplinary officers were usually all about order and authority. They lectured and berated and handed out fines. This guy just stood there as more onlookers arrived.

Adaliah’s angry pacing turned to stomping and scraping her front-left hoof across the sidewalk, creating sparks and thunderclaps that helped only in drawing more people to the scene.

“… Is this about earlier?” Nik asked, incredulously. “Seriously? No one got hurt and-”

“Quiet,” interrupted the man, in an exhausted and breathy tone.

Nik obliged for a few agonizingly long moments as the whispered gossip began to reach him. The general consensus seemed to be that he was in deep trouble, though they couldn’t decide on the reasoning- though as time passed they became more creative in their theories. At that point, however, Nik’s patience ran out and the embarrassment of the situation overwhelmed his sense of caution. He turned a sharp glare onto the man and then lifted his arm and began typing on his holo-mod. “Let’s see if the dean of student affairs can speed this up then.”

The man’s face held a look of wry amusement. Rolling his eyes, he hit a button on his own mod and Nik’s shut off. He then shook his head and made tutting noises over every attempt to argue, berate, complain, and whine, until eventually the silence was restored.

The rage Nike had felt lost its fight against panic, and panic became an exhausted surrender when every attempt to resolve things was cut short and it was clear he wouldn’t be listened to. He wanted to start screaming, but that would only increase the spectacle. They couldn’t be taking Adaliah from him. His grades were good and he was successful in 87% of his missions. He hadn’t done anything… Okay, yes, he’d become cocky. He could own up to that and the fact that he’d been an ass to that staff member earlier. And to a few other students that morning… and to a couple teachers…

Right.

He stared down at nothing in particular and waited for whatever punishment was coming. He could hear more than a little giggling from the younger students and more voices as the gossip grew louder. Adaliah has stopped pacing now and looked browbeaten as her meister’s mood became apparent. Something wasn’t right, and it went beyond his own outrage at the situation. He had been in trouble before and it always involved either a quick threat or being hauled into a disciplinary meeting and chewed out in the privacy of an office.

“Much better,” said the man, when the thunderclaps ceased and the horse was as still as her meister. “You are being suspended from any missions until further notice. I can tell you that it will be at least a week before you are allowed to leave campus grounds at all, and after that you’ll need an escort. For today, I’m officially ordering you to return to your dormitory immediately. Do not speak to or try to contact anyone. Do not use any electronic device except to complete homework. Do not leave until given permission.”

He stopped and hardened his gaze as Nik’s mouth flew open and he had to use every drop of self-control he possessed (and summon more from some external source he couldn’t clearly identify) to hold back the shout of outrage. His jaw shook as he snapped it shut again, and vibrated as if ready to spring back open at a moment’s notice.

He found his entire body was shaking with rage. An escort? That shit was for Level 1 Freshman who were failing their courses and had geminanima too small to assist in missions. It was like having a baby sitter. And he was grounded to his dorm room? He was 25 years old! Why the fuck- The rage stalled.

Why.

That was a good question. He had been expecting another 3-hour class on sensitivity or whatever that shit had been last semester. But instead he was being removed from active duty? The school rarely, if ever, did that. You had to be seriously injured or lose your shit for them to take you out of missions completely.

“You have a message,” said the man, nodding his head towards the blinking light on Nik’s holo-mod.

Nik ignored the fact that the unit was suddenly active again, and opened up the new message in the numb, droning way that one might expect from a zombie. It was from someone named Ms. Goldfield and, in the tone of a pointlessly long-winded form letter, stated that his cooperation was appreciated. The message was junk, it was the signature that made an impact. She wasn’t going to be scared off by his association with any of the deans or VPs.

Something was up. A few other people from his classes in subterfuge and others who frequently handles major jobs had been told to stay at the school and catch up on classwork, others were sent to areas where their talents were underutilized, a few had been called back from undercover work, and a couple had been getting crap missions for a while. Hell, Damsel hadn’t had a serious mission in over a year.

“You can still call your dean, if you like,” said the man. Though when Nik looked back at him he got the point that the situation was understood- confusing, but understood. He could feel the blood still building up in his face and didn’t dare look anyone in the eye, but there was a small part of his brain that was telling him that something big was happening.
They exchanged the look briefly before the man offered a cheeky grin that was dramatically mocking. It forced Nik’s annoyance to rise to the surface even before he realized he was supposed to look annoyed. The man held out a tablet and Nik signed it as if trying to break the screen with the pen. Afterwards, the man tossed a ticket at him and big him good day in a manner of one taunting a lion from the other side of steel bars.

“Don’t forget that we do pay attention to your actions on missions,” he added as a final shot.

Nik shut his eyes as that one washed over him. It was a simple comment, but it would call his previous mission into question and make the onlookers believe he’d done something worth the harsh punishment while completing it. He’d just gone from being a hero to being cannon fodder for the rumor mill in less than ten minutes.

For a few seconds he didn’t care what this was about, he just wanted to fight back. However, the truth of the matter was that the university’s reputation also took a dent when one of its students failed. So whatever had brought about this event, it must have been worth the damage to his and the university’s reputation. As he stood up and hurried to climb back onto Adaliah and dash away from the onlookers, he tried to imagine what could be going on. If onlookers were important, and he wasn’t allowed to contact anyone, then there was probably a mole.

A mole in contact with someone or something powerful enough to blackmail the university into crippling its operatives and damaging its own reputation.

But they wouldn’t take that sitting down. No fucking way. There had to be a plan. Someone was working to solve this. He’d always hoped he’d be privy to situations like these, but perhaps the mole was watching him. In fact, the mole might be watching all the major players and that was why his classmates were getting crappy missions. The school couldn’t send anyone whose absence would be noticed. He wondered if operatives already in the field had been contracted, or if they were being watched as well. It was difficult to imagine a group capable of tying the university’s hands like this, and he honestly wished he had the chance to get back at them. For now though, if the only way to help was to follow orders then that was what he, reluctantly, would do. He brought Adaliah to the stables and found she was expected. Another classmate with a brow-beaten expression said she’d take care of the unicorn until he was authorized to leave his dorm.

Seemed that she was also being removed from active duty. He wanted to ask if she had any idea what the fuck was going on, though the bitterness in her tone showed she hadn’t thought much about the underlying reasoning behind the punishment. And as he thought about it, he didn’t know for sure that their conversation could not be listened in on.

So, instead of leaving Adaliah right then, he swung back on and headed for his dorm.

--

Damsel wasn’t relieved by his claim that he wasn’t too injured. Fear began to grow inside her as she wondered if this really was a serious mission or if she was about to embark on a mission suited for someone with injuries.

It could have been worse. Her new teammate was more than easy to look at and left little to be desired as far as manners were concerned. His geminanima was a sight to behold as well, even if shy. She did her best to quell her nervousness and offer a confident smile.

“Glad to hear,” she said, referring to his claim that his injuries were minor. It then struck her that she could have easily ordered him a new holo-mod, though she knew how expensive those were and wasn’t fully ready to admit that a new one would have barely put a dent in her budget. Besides, he already had a way to get a new one. It made her feel a bit self-conscious about her own, though. As it was a private model instead of standard issue. Not too fancy, but above average.

“Of course,” she replied quickly. “I forgot to look over the mission back in the office, so I figure we can meet later today when the details come through, then pack and leave tomorrow?”

[B. B. Wolf]

Graves frowned slightly and glanced ruefully at his broken holo-mod.

"Unfortunately I don't think we'll have that much time. I'll have to get this thing to get the particulars, but she said our ride leaves in about," he looked around for something with the time on it and finally found it at a nearby coffee stand, "Seven and a half hours, now."

He shook his head, feeling exhausted and defeated. The only upside to this was that he didn't have to worry about turning in essays. Most of the time, missions like the last few he'd been on overrode the need for such assignments, instead relying on the reports given at the completion of said missions to show what was learned. He could only hope that this one turned out to be the same. He looked at the clock again and grimaced.

"Look, I hate to just run off on you like this, but I have a couple of extra things to take care of before we leave. There's a really good taco place right around the Quad that's good. You want to meet up there in about four hours?" he asked.

Itzy lifted her gaze away from Damsel and Kalista at the mention of tacos, shades of green and pink flashing through his mind as a mental drool and lip-smacking was accompanied by a quick wing flutter. Graves rolled his eyes as Itzy's reptilian nose mussed up his hair.

"Yes, Itzy, we can get you a fish taco," he said resignedly. He turned his gaze back to Damsel and shot her a winning smile.

"So whaddya say? Four hours?"

[FangedSmile]

Damsel nodded. The babysitting missions tended to fluctuate between requests sent out a few weeks ahead of time an the "I just remembered..." last minute missions like the last few. Hell, she'd been called out to one just because some dork was invited to his ex-girlfriend's wedding and his constant whining about it had caused his date to flake on him the night before.

"Four hours sounds fine," she agreed lightly. "See ya later."

She pat Itzel on the head since he was distracted and left in the direction of her dorm. if it was going to be a day of traveling then her first priorities were taking a shower and packing... then contacting her instructors and trying to get notes recorded. Her classes already had forums for that, however, so she wasn't stressed. A quick post was all it took and she jut copy-pasted her previous requests. Surprisingly, it seemed quite a few of her classmates were available to take notes.

Damsel arrived at her dorm and finally got the encrypted mission briefing. It suggested warm-weather attire, but no dresses or skirts. That was a change. A big change. No fancy clothing and jewelry? No notes about her hair or make up? No reminder not to throttle her client? Then she read a bit further and grinned at the biggest change yet. An enormous change that filled her with giddiness: Comfortable shoes.

[B. B. Wolf]

Graves nodded and moved off as well. Itzel jumped a little bit at the contact, but gave no other sign that she noticed it. Too distracted by those fish tacos, Graves thought.

First things first. His last mission, at least in the beginning, had a lot of down time, and he was able to get all of his assignments done almost immediately. He worried that this time that wouldn't be the case. However, in order to find out he'd need to get that new holo-mod. It only took him a few minutes to make his way from the offices of Ms. Goldstein and the presence of the lovely Damsel to the University's tech store. Or, at least it would have if the requisition sheet had been for that store. Instead, upon closer inspection, what he held in his hand looked more like a receipt than an order form. But why would Ms. Goldstein have him go off campus just to get a new holo-mod? Mentally shrugging, he loped easily toward a bus transit headed toward the local center of town. Itzel, being to big to fit comfortably on the bus, dismounted as he moved to get on. She didn't flash him any colors to convey her irritation, instead showing that by batting her wings against his head as she took flight.

It took the bus a surprising amount of time to fill up. Seemed a lot of students were taking a break from assignments. Or maybe had assignments that placed them a little closer to home. Still, it seemed odd that so many students were around lately. And while on that only slightly paranoid fueled thought process, Graves went back over the meeting with Ms. Goldstein and Damsel in his mind. Somehow things seemed... Off. Ms. Goldstein, while always strict, had usually been one of the most supportive people during his plight and recovery. She had always been forthcoming with details on missions when asked, even to the point of suggesting courses of action. This time she hadn't even talked to them about the mission except to assign it. He looked at the folder in his hand. Another strange thing. Mission briefings usually came digital only. On rare occasions he'd gotten paper details as well, but only when he was going into a blackout zone. This particular folder didn't feel quite thick enough to contain all the intel he'd need for a mission, much less pictures and maps. Trying to keep the frown off of his face, he swiped his student card to pay the bus fare before taking a seat all the way at the back of the bus. Taking his seat he crossed his ankle over his knee and looked around as if bored. Nobody appeared to be monitoring him. The student nearest him that was reading something on her holo-mod gave away a little of what she was up to with that almost imperceptible shift and the nibbling on her lip. The other students nearby were chatting about one mission or another, talking of upcoming games they were planning together, and mostly just having a good time. No one paid Graves any attention as he flipped the cover of his folder open. He was just another student after all. Probably had some studying to do, or maybe some catching up. Happened all the time.

Graves eyes shifted down to his folder, eyebrow raising when he saw the single piece of paper with a plastic baggy taped to it. In the plastic baggy was a small memory chip. Fairly large capacity, but nothing too special. Under the tape holding the baggy to the paper, written as lightly as possibly so as not to imprint the markings, were scribbled a few words in an archaic language that hadn't been used in centuries, probably. Except that, for whatever reason, Graves had been highly encouraged to learn said language by his counselor, Ms. Goldstein. He'd done well in those classes. The history behind the culture of the people that had used the language had fascinated him, and he found many similarities in their belief systems and his own ideology of how he believed things worked. But he'd never really used it until now. The strange, runic lettering seemed completely out of place next to the highly advanced technology of the chip right below it. But the words it conveyed were recognizable no matter what century they were read in, even if the meaning was obscured.

Danger on high, young dragon.

Easily enough to translate, and at first glance just as easily understandable. But if she wanted to warn him of danger, why not just say that. Why on high? Why call him young dragon? Because of Itzel? No, just because a persons Geminanima was a particular creature wasn't a good reason to assume that person had a matching personality. The only influence they had on one another was because of their constant contact. Besides, Ms. Goldstein wouldn't be quite so transparent. Graves thought back to what he knew about dragons in his mythology studies. They were generally large reptiles with claws, sharp teeth, and huge wings.In many legends they were also purported to breath fire. Often, in western myths, these impressive beasts were set by gods to guard something from mortals, either because the mortals shouldn't be able to handle it, or because the gods wished to keep whatever it was to themselves. And Graves new, that because that's what most people might think within this particular school, that Ms. Goildstein probably wanted him to dig a little deeper. He also knew, for example, that eastern mythologies had their own beliefs on dragons, that were much different than their western counterparts. For example, they weren't just described as giant reptiles, but were instead made up of nine different parts. The antlers of a stag, the head of a camel, the eyes of a demon, the neck of a snake, the belly of a clam, the scales of a carp, the claws of an eagle, the soles of a tiger, and the ears of a cow. Graves always thought that would make a silly looking creature, but any time he saw any sort of art portraying it, he thought it fascinating and beautiful. Further, these were viewed for the most part as gods, that controlled weather, or guides that helped people to overcome otherwise overwhelming situations. But that didn't make any sense either. Before he could put anymore thought into it, the bust announced his stop. He navigated the seats and outstretched legs as well as he could before stepping off of the bus. It was a short walk to the tech store, and the easy exercise it offered helped take his mind off of things. He'd figure out what the quote meant later. For now, he had work to do.

Thirty minutes after leaving Damsel, Graves stood waiting in the middle of a dimly lit, surprisingly clean, but mostly abandoned tech store. The proprietor of this particular establishment (at least, he assumed, because there didn't seem to be any evidence of other employees) seemed to only be able to communicate by using a series of grunts, snorts, and guttural noises. Or he just really didn't like people. Graves couldn't blame him either way. Retail sucked. Itzel, wisely, stayed airborne outside. She was on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary or hostile. It probably wasn't necessary to keep up the practices here, but it never hurt to be prepared. The shop owner, shorter with a permanent hunch from leaning over tables for most of his life and thick glasses that looked more like magnifying lenses than actual glasses, came back with a tough looking case with a paper receipt taped to it. He ripped the receipt, tape and all, from the box and slapped it down on the counter.

"Sign on the line," he said, simply. Graves dutifully signed. Once he was done the receipt was snatched up. The stooped man punched something into his computer which in turn made one hell of a racket. When it finally stopped making noise, the guy waved his hand at Graves.

"You're all done, have a good one, bye," he said before leaning over his small workbench nearby and tinkering with something. Graves raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. He had a feeling he knew why the guy didn't have that many customers. Still, he thought as he looked down at the case, if his workbench was anything to go by, he was no slouch in the tech department.

---

Three hours later, Graves was freshly showered (again, just in case) changed into a new set of clothes, packed up with everything he'd need, and off to the taco shop! The only deviation he'd made was to get ammo (being of the thought that sometimes a lot just wasn't enough), and now he was rubbing his content belly through his shirt and waving his cap in his face as Itzel projected thoughts of pure ecstasy through their link as she downed her third fish taco. His classes were taken care of for the next little bit (he was exempt from most tests due to his mission, and he could just pick up a recording of the lectures when he got back) and he'd gotten his holo-mod working easily enough. As he'd suspected, it appeared there had been a little custom work put into it. Not that he minded. It was good to have something nice for a change. He'd even been able to do a little research on his own, primarily into his new partner. He wasn't trying to find her deepest darkest secrets or anything, he just wanted to know her capabilities. And whether or not she might be inclined to leave him for dead. To his surprise, despite her lack of high risk missions, she had quite the impressive training background. Good records on her missions, despite not seeming very enthused about them. He'd stopped there, however. No need to pry into someones personal history, he thought. She'd tell him about that if she wanted to.

Graves leaned back in his chair again and subconsciously shifted his bag toward him. His gun and knife were in it, as well as a few other things he might need. All he had to do now was wait. He'd gone over their mission briefly once he'd set up his holo-mod, and he was more than a little worried about that, but he'd rather plan that out with his partner. After that, he'd figure out what he'd need to do to keep himself alive.