A CYOA in Worm or I think my name is No No

[Rajvik]

**Missy/Vista**
It was almost time for the evening news when I watched the three newest Wards manage to make it back to the Wards area and collapse together onto the couch. “Missy,” Akane groaned out, “Are we allowed to bring harm to the fourth estate?”

“No,” I answered looking questioningly at the three of them. “You can complain to the director and the Public Affairs Officer and if they agree, have that person banned from the building while requesting their service send someone else. Which of the reporters managed to get under your skin?”

“D. Wayne Peterfelt,” Katie growled in response, giving me the impression that most of the attention was directed at her, or at least was about her. “According to what he said he works for the North-Eastern Progressive, and before you ask, no, none of us have heard of it or him either.”

I rolled the names of both person and news service around in my head, “I don’t recognize the names either,” I told them. “Have you had a chance to look them up?”

“No,” Taylor answered as the other two just groaned. “After the free for all that the question and answer section of the debut turned into, we were taken to a conference room for debrief on what we did right and what we could have done better.” The girl sighed, “Apparently informing the media and the public that they are not likely to see us on patrol was not, optimum.”

“Ugh, an Armsmaster debrief,” I groaned having been through them myself. “My sympathies. How bad was it?” Their response was to all groan in sync so I turned the local news on just in time for the announcer to start.

“Good evening Brockton Bay, I’m Bill Weathersby” the fairly generic brown-haired anchor started. “To start tonight’s news, we bring you something we promised you yesterday. More information on what happened Saturday at Weymouth Mall and the new local Wards that were apparently instrumental in ending the standoff without any civilian casualties. At the PRT is Melisa Ivanova with the latest, Melissa?”

“Thank you, Bill,” the on-scene reporter, a twenty-something silky haired black woman said into the camera. “The PRT debuted three new Wards this evening, Skitter, No No, and the former Empire cape Rune. It was the inclusion of the last one that apparently ruffled feathers amongst some of the more, extreme members of the press that attended the event.”

The television cut to a shot of the stage with the reporters in the foreground as one stood to ask a question. “D. Wayne Peterfelt of the North-Eastern Progressive,” the reporter said, identifying himself. “My question is, why have you been dressed this way? It shows a distinct lack of sympathy for the local Asian community and could possibly enflame their feelings against you.”

All three Wards seemed to blink at that before the one in a deep blue stepped forward to the microphone, “Excuse please, but I recently come from Tokyo and can tell you this how many young hero dress.”

“I’m sorry?” the reporter returned clearly flabbergasted at the response. “Also, she’s an admitted racist.” He continued pointing at the one in green. “Of anyone, why would you dress her like this?”

“She used to be racist,” the blue ninja answered. “Is why she is wearing green, is color of growth and change This is good thing, yes?” The last was said while pointing at anther reporter in the television section.

“Sherryl Atkinson,” the reporter started, “Miss No No, may I ask why you have that as a name?”

The blue ninja seemed to smile behind her mask, “Is because of my power.”

“Your power?” the reporter asked. “I don’t understand. Why, or maybe more appropriately how?”

No No squatted down on the stage to be closer to the reporter. “What do you say to small child who is about to hurt themself?” she answered. “You tell them no no, maybe smack lightly on hand if reaching for something dangerous. That what I do.”

The scene cut back to the split screen between the anchor and the reporter who were both having a hard time suppressing their mirth. “It seems one of the newer reporters went a little further than he should have?” the anchor asked.

“Yes Bill,” the reporter responded. “As a result, he can possibly expect to be blacklisted from future events for as little as the next one, to permanently. The PRT has not commented publicly on what their decision will be, but the fact that he kept butting in on other reporters' questions to both the Wards and the PRT did not win him any sympathy with the rest of the reporters in the group. That however was not the biggest point of this press conference or Wards debut.”

The television cut again to the scene showing the crowd as the green ninja stepped forward. “I wasn’t born here, and while I moved here a few years ago, I am not a natural Brocktonite. That said, I have been a part of the problem for the last couple of years, because of that I have what you might consider a unique view of the situation. I hope that the people at home, as well as those of you in the press can see it in your hearts to at least give me the chance to redeem myself by helping to solve the problems and making amends to the community.” The scene cut away as the firebrand reporter stood up and started to yell something.

The next scene showed the red ninja addressing the crowd, but an unseen something buzzing her answer, “Rune didn’t have to expose herself,” the girl buzzed. “She could have acted with complete anonymity and even after she teamed up with us, could have walked away once the debrief at the PRT was finished. She chose to come over and help us fix our home, and with people like Hookwolf and Kaiser on the other side of that divide that showed a great deal of bravery. I’ll give her the chance she’s asked for, if for no other reason than she earned it, and she’s going to continue to earn it every day she serves.”

The screen cut back to the reporter. “The young ladies also pointed out that the three of them are a scouting and intelligence gathering team as opposed to being able to hit hard targets and as such are unlikely to be seen down on the boardwalk doing patrols.”

“Thank you, Melissa,” the anchor stated taking back control as the camera went from a full screen of the woman reporter, to a split scene of both of them for a moment, before finally cutting simply to him. “The PRT’s director also had things to say about the incident Saturday, that however we will cover in the ten o’clock hour. Investigation…”

I cut the TV’s sound off at that point and looked at the three of them. “Not the worst debut I’ve ever seen, but not the best.” I told them. “Clockblocker still has you beat hands down for talking too much, but that was definitely a solid seven out of ten on the good scale.” The three of them groaned and the pile that they were simply produced three fingers. “And once again people say that I’m number one, thank you.”
**

Once the three of them had wandered back to their rooms to change I pulled out my smartphone and took a look at the PHO page that had sprung up since the news had shown what it had of the debut.

■

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■

♦ Topic: Wards Debut
In: Boards ► General Threads ► USA ► Brockton Bay
Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted On Jan 11th 2011:
So as of last Sunday we knew that we would get more information on what happened with the incident at Weymouth Mall and that there would be new Wards debuting. What i don't think anyone, including myself and I'm usually in the loop on these things, expected was once Aegis asked for the young ladies to show themselves, was for a large swarm of bugs to come down and form a wall as the first one, (Skitter) stepped out from behind the curtain of insects. No No dropped from above into a classic three point stance and then Rune came down, her arms crossed as she landed a platform behind and between the other two. At that point all three bowed to the audience and the bugs seemed to disappear again into nothing. They all answered some questions, but their team mission statement seemed to leave some of the reporters asking what in Hades their plans are. I know the Youth Guard is currently having kittens.

Now, discuss!
(Edit: Full Video Here)
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►Pest Delayer
Replied On Jan 11th 2011:
How many kittens, what breed are they, and are there any pics?
►ClockBlocker (Verified Cape)  (Wards ENE)
Replied On Jan 11th 2011:
You beat me to a joke, I can respect that.

in this case though, not literally. They don't like the fact that the three of them are not planning on following the usual Wards Routine of show patrols along the Boardwalk, but intend to act as scouts, staying as much out of sight as possible.
►Katzenhai (Unverified Cape)
Replied On Jan 11th 2011:
Well I can respect it. They have a good power synergy for recon for as I can tell so maybe they can scout out areas in advance for the PRT or Protectorate? Either way, glad they're taking it serious and not kow towing to the YG.
►BrocktonBayPartyPatrol
Replied On Jan 11th 2011:
Scouts, hidden in the shadows. Gathering intel to coordinate targeted strikes to bring the city's gangs to their knees!

Or, as we lay people tend to refer to people in that uniform and with that job: Ninjas
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■

I nodded and typed in my own response to the verbal melee that was just getting started. Apparently despite the Youth Guard’s unhappiness the man on the street seemed to like the idea so far. Good, I thought, the status quo around here could use a little shaking up, and the three of them seem just the types to do so. With that thought I headed towards the door. Mom was supposed to be home at a decent hour tonight and wanted me home for dinner since I didn’t have console duty. She meant well, but a part of me just wanted her to stop trying so hard and relax. Neither she nor dad were solely to blame for what had happened and both of them hovering so much that they kept sniping at each other didn’t help matters. Stupid divorce.

[Star Ranger4]

I think the part I like best right now is Vista's take on what Taylor, Akane, and ... Oh bugger. what is Rune's 'real name'? Totally having a blond moment here.

[Rajvik]

katie, i have her name as Katie

[Rajvik]

AN: Apparently i have forgotten to update this here.


**Taylor**
There were two main topics of discussion the next day. The Wards Debut, and the reporter who had managed to make an ass out of himself during it, filled up the morning’s gossip, to the extent of being commented on in Mrs. Jackson’s history class as an example of the extremes that political correctness could go to. By lunch though our debut had been overshadowed by the fact that the Drama and Glee Clubs had decided to go in together to put on a production of Little Shop of Horrors. “The problem,” Vicky’s friend Tabitha, who was in the Drama club, said morosely, “is that the voices of all the boys in both groups are cracking and none of them can seem to keep a note for more than two heartbeats.”

“Of course, that’s the ones that can carry a tune. Of the others that can,” Samantha, another member of the drama club cut in, “either they don’t want the starring role, or they can’t remember their lines. Finally, we have a severe shortage of males in the first place. It is almost as if someone is trying to sabotage our efforts for the city showcase this year.”

“Now, now,” Amy said, waving a fork with a bit of salad around in one hand, while reading the script of the play with the other. “I doubt anyone is trying to sabotage us that way.” She paused a moment in thought before continuing, “Though here’s an idea, why not gender flip at least the starring role, if not the whole thing?”

The Drama club students seemed to ponder that for a few moments before Samantha piped up, “It could be done.” With that, the group was off on that tangent of who could possibly do what role, and what scenes it would allow them to do.
**

**Emily Piggot**
“Furthermore,” James Tagg continued from his position on the screen, “the residents seem to have finally realized that rushing the portal point is only going to get them shot, even if it is with less than lethal ammunition or confoam.”

“Thank you for your report James,” the Chief Director said in her window and received a nod from the man in charge of the Madison containment zone. “Now, Emily, you said you had a potentially good thing brought to your attention?”

“Yes ma’am,” I answered. “My niece recently joined me from Japan where a major investor has arranged a series of concerts to encourage people to be in their Endbringer shelters. She suggested we tap into that idea and assist by arranging for our shelters to do the same.”

“Who is this investor and how are they affording to do this when the odds of any given city being hit are slim?” Director Armstrong asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Kuno Industries,” I answered. “The current CEO ordered it and when they built their shelters after the sinking of Kyushu, they outfitted them to be usable as concert halls as well as shelters.”

The Chief Director nodded, “I could see city administrators liking that idea, being able to get more use out of them than as just shelters. How successful are they on projected Endbringer assaults?”

“According to my niece they have around a ninety to ninety-five percent occupancy rate of their given areas,” I answered. “Of course, that is not counting the people who have to stay out as necessary emergency workers or hospital staff. Also, once the Endbringer sirens sound, the doors are sealed until the all clear is given.”

“How often are they off on the attack date?” Director Paulson asked, sounding a little breathless from his screen.

“Once since they started this in 2000,” I answered, “And that was the Simurgh’s appearance at Lausanne.”

“Holy shit!” Tagg commented, his surprise evident. “How the hell are they predicting them?”

“Akane doesn’t know,” I answered, waving my hands in front of me in a slightly warding gesture. “All she knows is that it involves some computer algorithm and that it’s only good for a three-day window around when they will attack, never which one nor where.”

“Still though,” the Chief Director said, cupping her chin in thought. “A warning like that could still save lives, and it reduces the annoyance at false alarms by giving them entertainment. Where do they get the acts?”

“Mostly local groups and cover bands from what Akane has told me,” I answered truthfully. “They do ask for donations because the concert portions are advertised as a benefit to help areas rebuild after the Endbringer attacks.”

“The Kuno Foundation?” the Chief Director asked, and I nodded. “That means they’ve been doing this for about ten years now.” Her face took a pensive cast for a moment as she thought about the situation and the odds before she spoke again. “Emily, how do you feel about using Brockton Bay as a test subject for doing this?”

“Honestly I would feel better if it was being done somewhere else,” I answered truthfully, “Between the nazi’s, the druggies and the ABB I think we would be a piss poor test scene for it.”

“Afraid you’re going to have to get peoples hands dirty keeping the peace in the shelters?” the director of Phoenix snarked.

“Director Ramirez, I try very hard to keep the bloodshed around here as low as possible,” I growled. “I don’t care whose blood it is. That said, the fact of the matter is that I would either have to segregate the local partisans into different shelters or keep the entirety of the Bay PD on shift throughout the three-day period. Even then, people are likely to die.”

“Are things still that bad Emily?” Tagg asked from his window. I was honestly a bit surprised to hear the concern from the man, but the look on his face was honest concern.

“In a word James,” I answered with a sigh, “Yes they are.” I rubbed my hands over my face for a moment and looked at the myriad of windows on my computer screen. “The fact of the matter is that we need more here. More troopers, more heroes, more money for outreach and more tractable villains. If I could get some more support in general I could start to whittle away at what the gangs have but as things sit I’m lucky to be able to hold things to a stalemate of the status quo, which doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What about your three new Wards?” Director Castle asked from Atlanta, “I know you just debuted them yesterday and they aren’t supposed to be doing anything dangerous, but still patrolling them in the safer parts of town is supposed to be able to free up your Protectorate forces to do other things.”

I lifted an eye at the woman in Georgia. “We don’t have safe areas like that Amanda,” I answered with a hint of cold in my voice. “The safest area we have for the Wards to patrol is the Boardwalk where just last week there was a fight between a group of Merchants and the Empire over trying to forcibly recruit a rogue who is going to be making the costumes for our new Wards once the base material is ready.”

“I’ll run the test,” Director Andrew Dufraine said from New Orleans. “It would be nice to be able to have everyone locked down and entertained where a teleporter can get to them easy as opposed to chasing survivors all over the lower ninth.”

The Chief Director nodded at that. “Thank you, Andrew. Anyone else?” she asked.

“I will,” Meredith Baxter said from San Francisco. “It will be something new and different anyway.”

A couple of other directors volunteered their city for the test before the big question was asked, “When are they predicting the next attack?”

“The weekend of February 12th,” I answered. “Akane’s band will be playing for that one, and they are pretty decent.”

The Chief Director nodded, “So anytime from the Friday before the twelfth until the Monday afterwards?” I nodded in response, “We will prepare accordingly, and then if they are right, ask the company if they are willing to share their prediction algorithm.” Everyone nodded to that. “If there is nothing else ladies and gentlemen?” a look at the various screens showed shaking heads, “then I call this meeting adjourned.” With that the windows and their directors started to wink out of existence allowing my wallpaper to slowly grow back to it’s full size.
**

Nerima, Japan

Nabiki smiled as she picked up the workbook from her daughter’s chest before pulling the covers over the teen and setting the workbook with the rest of Kagome’s school things on her desk. There was a quiet murmur from the sleeping teen as her mother walked toward the door to the girl’s room stopping only long enough to shut off the light and slide the door closed. “Sasuke?” she practically whispered.

“Yes, Mistress Nabiki,” the family retainer answered, stepping from a shadow just down the hallway.

“Am I too distant from her?” the woman asked quietly, “have I focused too much on keeping the business afloat?”

“No Mistress Nabiki,” the ninja replied just as softly. “She is so independent that if you had tried to be controlling then she would have rebelled and want nothing to do with you or the company.”

“Sasuke, it’s a Thursday night and she spent the entirety of it studying alone,” Nabiki returned. “The only friends of hers that I know of are her cousins and she treats them more like siblings than cousins. When I was her age I had a flood of at least acquaintances that I could go see to study with, not immerse myself in solitude.”

“She wasn’t alone, Mistress,” Sasuke replied blandly. “Momo has been with her all evening helping her study and watching over her. I had just carried him off to bed myself when you came in.”

The former Tendo paused at that, “And how do they get on Sasuke?” she asked.

“He cares for her,” the ninja replied, “and I think she has feelings for him as well, though both think they hide it well. It has been many generations since there was even a hint that the two families might intermingle.”

This caused Nabiki to lift an eyebrow, “I find that a bit hard to believe Sasuke,” she said, starting to walk towards her room. “I mean the Kuno women, if the family portraits are to be believed, have always been of outstanding appearance.”

The elder retainer shook his head in her peripheral vision, “Until your late husband changed it, the rule amongst our clan has always been that the children of the master’s family were off limits to us. As simple retainers it would have been inconceivable to marry into the master’s family. That is not to say that there have not been cases where a young master has impregnated a young kunoichi, or a young mistress decides to run off with a scion of the family.”

“And when was the last time such an incident was recorded?” Nabiki asked quietly, “and what was the result?”

“I would have to double check, mistress,” Sasuke answered. “However, I believe the last time was during the Mejii Revolution when one of the young masters had a disagreement with his father over the matter and the two of them disappeared into that mess. She returned two or three years later with a babe in arms and the young master’s blades. The clan took the child in, and the master at the time accepted the blades back knowing his son died with honor.”

Nabiki thought on this for the rest of their walk to her quarters. “If you are not against it Sasuke,” she said sliding her door open, “Then I will have no problem with Momo as a potential son-in-law. He is a good and loyal young man,”

“I have no problem with it, mistress,” Sasuke answered bowing. “I wish you a good night.” With that said the ninja vanished into the shadows once more causing Nabiki to smile. Good and loyal describe you as well Sasuke, too bad you’re married.
**

[Rajvik]

Now for some more story and some plot advancement

**

PRT Headquarters
Washington DC, USA
1800 hours Thursday, January 13th 2011

“I apologize for the hour of this call Ms. Kuno,” Chief Director Rebecca Costa Brown said once the video call had connected and she found herself looking at a perfectly average Japanese woman. She had spent the last day and a half doing her research on the woman and her family only to find herself impressed. Mother of one, Summa Cum Laude with a Master’s Degree in Business Management and Economics from Tokyo University as well as running one of the biggest multinational investment businesses in Japan. The woman had a cutthroat way of doing business that made sure that everything possible went her way, and even the things that couldn’t didn’t hurt her or her family.

“Hello Chief Director,” the CEO of Kuno Investments and The Kuno Foundation said with a slight seated bow. “How may I assist you today?”

“Madame,” Rebecca started, “It has been brought to my attention that you have a way to predict when the Endbringers are to attack. I would like a copy of that data so that our own people can adapt it to our existing attempts to build an Endbringer prediction program.”

“That isn’t a problem Chief Director,” the woman replied while making a note on a legal pad next to her. “I can have the program in a shielded package and on its way to you within the day, was there anything else?”

Rebecca froze slightly, she had not expected getting the prediction program to be that easy. “Err, thank you,” the Chief Director answered. “Actually, there is one other thing. We are wanting to mimic your Endbringer entertainment venues in a few test cities here in the US. Would you be willing to either send someone as a consultant to assist in this, or at least link us into your projected programming?”

“I can do both,” the woman said with a wide smile. “Though I am going to have to charge you for this one. Currently we have expanded our program to South Korea, The Philippines, as well as parts of SouthEast Asia and most of the Pacific Islands. Depending on what cities you intend to include we may be expanding to a near 24-hour program.”

Rebecca goggled at that, “New Orleans, New York, Seattle and San Francisco are our test cities,” Rebecca answered, her voice wavering some. “Chicago and Denver are considering doing something similar, but they doubt they could get it set up before the predicted time frame.”

The CEO nodded, “I can send a person to each city you listed and link all of them into the programing. The cost for you would be 25-thousand dollars per 100-thousand people.”

“That’s very generous of you Ms Kuno,” Rebecca commented breathlessly. That’s insane! she thought as she accepted the offer. “If you will send people to those cities I am sure that they can arrange for the money to be transferred to your foundation’s account once they have an estimate of how many people they will be dealing with.”

“Of course Chief Director,” the CEO answered, making another note to herself. “I will have people dispatched by the end of our business day.

“Thank you for your time and cooperation, Ms Kuno.” Rebecca said calmly only to receive a nod from the other woman before the call was disconnected. Standing up from her desk Rebecca walked out of her office and past her secretary’s empty desk toward a broom closet. Opening the closet door, she murmured “Door to Cauldron,” before disappearing into the shining doorway.
**

**Akane**
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday flew past in a blur of school, training, and actual work. it was followed by Saturday, which dawned bright and beautiful as I awoke to a text from Sabah notifying me of a practice walk at the Brockton Bay University Auditorium at noon. The timing did not upset any plans I had so I went about my day. It was a quarter of twelve when I walked through the auditorium doors to find a madhouse of young adults running back and forth trying to make everything perfect. “Akane!” Taylor’s voice called out over the bedlam and after a minute of scrutiny I could see her and Sabah off to one side about halfway down the hall. Seeing her I almost dropped the pumps in my hand as she bounced and waved in the sundress that Sabah had stuffed her in last week. I waved in return before walking over.

“Taylor, Sabah,” I said as I reached them and tried valiantly not to eye Taylor’s legs in the short sundress. “Kind of a madhouse around here huh?”

“Hello Akane,” Sabah said as she only half noticed my appearance. “I’m glad you are here as not only do I need to do a final fitting on your dresses, but Taylor needs someone to walk her around and get her used to the three inch heels that she’s going to be wearing.”

I sighed but nodded. I wasn’t a girly girl by any stretch of the imagination, and I preferred slacks and jeans to skirts, I had, however, agreed to do this and I could see by the look in Taylor’s eyes that she was enjoying every bit of it. “Alright,” I said with another sigh. “Where is the changing area and the first dress?”

Sabah pointed to one side where a screen partition like you would see in a western stood providing a modicum of privacy. “All three of your outfits are hanging behind the screen, it doesn’t matter which you choose, but if you choose the Ao Dai first we can go ahead and find you a pair of slippers to go with it.”

I nodded and headed toward the screen, considering how I would look in the dresses. Five gets you ten someone is going to record this and I will never live it down, I thought as I began to strip from my street clothes before pulling on the slip and the fancy dress. It actually fit this time as opposed to being overly large on me. The waist hit at the right point, and while the chest was snug, it wasn’t in a way that was uncomfortable or constraining. The skirt on the other hand still minimized my steps worse than a kimono.

Stepping out from behind the screen I felt my breath hitch at the vibrancy of Taylor’s smile. She bounced slightly in the heels as she clapped her hands, “My God Akane,” she said with a giggle, “you’ll have the boys swooning if they see you like this.”

I grimaced as I hobbled over to the block that Taylor was occupying. “They say a word and I’ll kick their butts up between their ears,” I grumbled through my smile. “What about those slippers Sabah?”

“I think I’ll let Taylor lead you there,” the design student and seamstress answered. “That way she can get some more practice walking in the heels she’s wearing.”

Taylor and I both nodded and I offered her my hand to help her down from the platform. “You seem to be having fun,” I said as we left Sabah behind.

“I don’t usually wear clothes this nice,” Taylor replied beaming, even as she wobbled a bit in the heels. “At Winslow there not only wasn’t any reason, but with the trio and their hangers-on screwing with me daily, they would have been ruined by the end of first period.” She sighed after a minute before continuing to talk even as she seemed to focus on her walking. “It’s also not really my style,” she said quietly. “I mean, every once in a while, yeah having a reason to dress up nice and having something nice to wear at that point is a good thing, but it’s not a daily thing for me. I’m just as comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt as this.”

I nodded as I was much the same, back in Japan I would have been much more comfortable in the boy’s uniforms at my schools, than the girls. My reputation had kept me from problems there though as no one wanted to test my control. Still though, I would rather be in a suit than a dress. I thought as we stepped up to a young man that seemed to have a shoe fitting station.

“Ah, you’re here for slippers, right?” he asked, smiling as he looked at me.

“Yes,” I answered. “I usually wear a size six American, but the width tends to be on the wide side of things.”

“Alright then,” he answered with a smile. “Why don’t you have a seat and we will see what fits.” I nodded and sat down on the stool he had available while watching Taylor walk back and forth in the heels. The young man took a shoe sizer and settled my left foot in it before sliding the sides and the end in. Pulling my foot out once he locked the pieces in place, he looked at it and nodded. “Yes, size six extra wide,” he commented half under his breath before diving into a stack of boxes and pulling out three. “Try this one on,” he said, handing me one of the boxes.

The slippers inside were a pale violet, and just a touch too narrow, “Nope,” I said pulling it back off. “Too narrow in the toes.”

“Alright then,” he said, setting one of the two boxes aside before handing her the other. “Try this pair.” I handed him the pair of slippers I had back before taking the new pair and pulling out the left one.

“Much better,” I told him as I flexed my foot in the slipper. Putting the other one on I stood up and walked around a bit. “Yes, this will do nicely, thank you.”

“No problem,” the young man said with a smile. “What about you miss, any problems with your sandals?”

“Just that I need to get used to walking in them in a hurry,” Taylor answered.

“Sorry but I have no answer for that one.” He replied.

“I might,” I said, but let’s let Sabah finish her fitting before we try it.”
**

**Taylor**
“Excuse me,” I looked up from where Sabah was re-hemming the cuffs of Akane’s pantsuit to see a spare blonde woman with a clipboard standing off to one side of us. “Could you tell me your names and what agency you work for?” she asked.

I blinked for a moment at the question before looking at Akane and Sabah. “A mutual friend introduced us,” Sabah answered through a mouth full of pins. “They don’t work for an agency.”

“While I find that hard to believe as it is awfully convenient,” the blonde said with a smile, “I still need your names for the announcements during the fashion show.”

“Noelle,” Sabah sighed standing to look the blonde in the eyes. “I gave you their names yesterday. In fact, I wrote them down on your ever so fashionable clipboard so that you wouldn’t forget them. How in the hells you manage to be a top tier team leader and strategist in a combat game with how scatterbrained you seem to be is beyond me?”

The blonde smiled, “Francis says that it’s because I attain a laser like focus when the virtual feces hits the rotary air impeller,” she replied. “I’m not that ditzy, I really just wanted to see if these were who you wrote down or if there was going to be another last-minute change. You’ve got a couple of cute ones here.”

CUTE! I thought as my mind jackknifed like an 18-wheeler trying to stop on a patch of ice. She thinks I’m cute, why does she think I’m cute? Vocally all that came out was a groan as my mind started to spin.
**

**Akane**
Taylor groaned and I felt my eyes roll back as I sighed in disgust. “Noelle was it?” I asked, receiving a nod from the blonde, Too damn thin, anorexic or bulimic at a guess. my brain supplied. “Thanks a lot, you broke her,” I continued gesturing at Taylor. “Now I have to figure out a way to fix her and continue this afternoon so that we can get some practice in on the platform before we go home.”

“What do you mean I broke her?” the blonde asked acerbically. “All I said was that she was cute, it was a compliment.”

“And she’s had a bad couple of years that has destroyed her self-esteem and self-image.” I hissed at her. “She has a hard time believing she’s good at anything or worth anything. Compliments fluster her. Sabah, are you done setting the hem?”

“Yeah,” the fashion student answered, shooting a glare at the blonde. “I can finish re-hemming the thing tonight and it will be ready for you tomorrow.”

“Good,” I answered, stepping off the small platform and moving behind the changing screen. “I’m going to try and get Taylor’s brain to reboot, or at least get it out of the crashing loop I imagine it’s in and then we’re going to walk the runway, might talk to the sound folks about the music for tomorrow, and then we are out of here.”

“Completely understandable,” Sabah told me. “Just remember that we need to be here at three for any last-minute changes and a practice walk through.”

“Understood,” I answered as I changed out of the clothes Sabah had me in and back into my street clothes. “Taylor and I will be here by then and ready to go.”

Fully dressed save my boots I stepped out from behind the screen to sit down. “Now, tomorrow I will hopefully have Taylor ready to take any compliments but do try and keep them minimal and about the clothes. She’s not used to them.” Noelle and Sabah both nodded as I zipped up my boots and then I stood, and walking over to Taylor, wrapped my arms around her from behind. “Tay,” I said softly in her ear. “Let’s get out of here and we’ll talk some alright?” the girl nodded slightly before letting me pull her to her feet and guide her out of the auditorium.

“She called me cute?” Taylor said in a soft small voice as we left. “How can she find me cute?”
**

[Rajvik]

**
Akane

Just off the BBU campus was a little dive eatery that mostly served the students when they wanted something other than cafeteria food or takeout. From the sign over the bartop where you ordered it wasn’t much, just a half-dozen tables and booths, with a jukebox, cheap beer, and greasy food. Right now though, the most important thing was that it was effectively empty, meaning it was someplace with a calm atmosphere. Sitting Taylor down I went and ordered us a couple of sodas and a basket of fries before coming back to her and sliding into the booth next to her. “Taylor,” I said softly, “Taylor look at me.”

The look in my friend’s eyes when she looked at me wrenched at my heart and a part of me wished I had hit that damn redhead harder than I had. I will make her regret this somehow, I thought as Taylor suddenly grabbed me and buried her head in my chest, sobbing. My response was to hold her, making soothing noises and holding her. After a few minutes, a voice said, “There was a time when young women were at least somewhat respected by the men around here.” I looked away from Taylor to find the bartender/waitress setting our drinks and fry basket down on the table. “And when they weren’t respected, the people who didn’t respect them learned to fear them.” The look in the woman’s face turned hard with that comment, “She’s your friend, right?” she asked, and I nodded. She nodded back before continuing, “You find whoever hurt her and make it right if you can, if you can’t you call me or come find me, Some of the boss’s girls didn’t go to prison, and others have gotten out since”

I smiled at her, “Thanks,” I said, and she nodded before walking back towards the bar. Turning my attention back to Taylor I sighed. “Taylor listen to me ok?” I felt her nod against my chest and rolled my eyes. “I need you to think back for a minute and tell me, who has been telling you that you were not cute.”

“Well,” Taylor said, her brows knit in concentration. “It was everyone at…” and that was when the realization hit her. Taylor’s reaction was to jerk back like she had been slapped, her face turning into a snarl. “Emma!” she growled, and I nodded even as I took her by the shoulders.

“For whatever her reasons, she did this to keep you down, to break your spirit,” I told her and then chuckled. “Besides,” I continued. “If you weren’t at least cute, you wouldn’t have half the school watching whenever you walk past.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Taylor countered huddling in on herself.

“Am not,” I returned. “I’ve personally watched Aaron Kilpatrick, Dennis, Chris and Tracey Perkins all follow you with hungry eyes as you’ve walked away.”

“Dennis is scared of me,” she mumbled causing me to raise an eyebrow. Taylor saw the unvoiced question and chuckled a bit. “Caught him stealing the mallow jars for a prank when I needed them for last week's fudge, and I, well I threatened to engulf him in bugs if he didn’t put them back or tried it again.”

That she had the gumption to do even that much was a step in the right direction and I pulled her into a hug, “Good girl,” I said smiling, “and while it could explain his partner in crime, that doesn’t explain the baseball team captain or the head cheerleader checking out your butt as you left the room.”

Taylor snorted, “Akane, I’m too tall, my mouth is too wide, I’m skinny as a rail and I’m flat as a board, no one is going to want me.” Unvoiced I could hear the, “I’m not good looking,” in her tone and I shook my head as I put a finger to her lips.

“Taylor,” I said with a slight smile and a shake of my head. “Think for a moment about the other girls that were in that auditorium, the ones that were there to model the clothes. All of them were skinny as rails, most of them because they live unhealthy lifestyles to keep the weight off. Yes, they are almost all shorter than you, but they want your height so that they can look skinnier than they already are. As for the rest, you’re still in that gangly coltish stage of growth, give it a couple of more years and you are going to be breaking hearts and your father is going to be answering the door with a shotgun,”

That earned a giggle and a smile from her so I continued. “I want you to eat these fries, and drink that soda, and then we need to get back over and do a walk through on the runway before we go home. I’m going to see if I can’t get someone over to help.” Taylor nodded and I got up before grabbing my cup and heading toward the bar. Pulling out my phone with my other hand I pulled up my contacts list and picked a contact to dial. “Hey Vicky, are you busy?”

“Not particularly,” the blonde Alexandria package answered, causing me to smile.

“I need some help and I think you would love to make your sister all flustered again,” I told her. “If you at least will come over to the college’s auditorium I would appreciate it.”

“What do you need help with there?” she asked.

“We need to teach Taylor how to strut.” Was all I answered.
**

**Sabah**
“I’m obviously missing something,” Noelle had commented as Akane led Taylor out of the auditorium. My response had been to snort at her statement as I took up the slacks before turning to face my teacher’s assistant.

“You think?” I asked just a touch sarcastically before turning the pants inside out. “The girl has apparently spent the last eighteen months going through a special kind of hell and Akane and I had to calm her down when I broached the subject of her modeling my clothes. The girl has practically no self-confidence and I have a funny feeling as to the why.”

“Shit,” the blonde commented. “What’s your feeling?” Noelle asked.

“That at least one of the two girls who were supposed to model for me was involved in it,” I answered. At that point I turned my attention to the slacks and started stitching the hem into place, losing myself in the repetitive motion.
**

My attention was pulled from finishing the slacks as the main doors to the auditorium slammed open to show three silhouettes standing in the doorway, “Let's do this,” a voice I didn’t recognize stated as the bodies moved through the room toward the stage. As the doors closed I could see it was Akane, Taylor and a…and Victoria Dallon, Because of course they could get Glory Girl to come over and help Taylor, I thought as I rubbed my eyes.

Akane made a beeline for the sound board and the computer there that would provide the music for the fashion show. Walking over to her I could hear her muttering “No, no, hell no,” followed  by her lifting an eyebrow at what I could only figure was one song choice as she said clearly, “Who the hell do they think they are, Rick James?” before shaking her head and pulling up the computer’s master music list. “Ah, here we go,”
**

**Sunday, January 16, 2011**
Danny smiled as he eased himself into the auditorium seat as Emily sat down between himself and the Dallon sisters. Vicky had somehow convinced Amy that she would enjoy the fashion show or at least that it made more sense for her to take the night off and join them both here and at dinner as opposed to spending another night at the hospital. They would have almost filled the row with Carol and Mark, but the former had an early court appearance in Boston for the Bad Canary trial tomorrow and wouldn’t have been able to join them for dinner, while the latter was having one of his bad days and was home in bed. “Excuse me,” a low voice rumbled from Danny’s other side drawing his attention to a large Asian man with what was obviously his daughters. “Is anyone sitting in these seats?”

“They’re open,” Danny answered taking a closer look at the two girls. One was a little older than Taylor and Akane, maybe eighteen or so while the other was more than likely a preteen of maybe twelve. “Is yours a student or a model?”

The man blinked for a moment as his girls moved to sit down, “I have one that is a student,” he answered smiling. “But not here and not learning fashion, my wife runs the modeling studio that is providing the majority of the models tonight and she wanted to be here to ride herd on them. Herding cats is more accurate in my opinion but what can you do right?” Danny smiled and nodded at the comment. “After this we have to go open the restaurant for the year too, so it’s going to be a long night.”

Danny smiled at that, “That would mean that you are Kenta Horaki correct?”

The man lifted an eyebrow but nodded over the heads of his daughters, “I am,” he answered. “Who are you, if I may be so bold?”

“Danny Hebert,” Danny answered standing and offering his hand.

Kenta took the offered hand and shook it while smiling. “You run the Dockworkers Union,” he replied and Danny laughed shaking his head.

“I’m just the head of hiring,” Danny returned, and Kenta shook his head.

“From what I’ve heard,” Kenta countered. “If you didn’t keep beating your head against the wall that is city hall half the city wouldn’t be livable and nobody in the union would have legal employment. You do good work, what has you here?”

“Daughter got talked into modeling for one of the students,” Danny answered. “Favor trading at its finest.” Kenta nodded at that smiling.

“Let me guess,” Kenta said, his smile turning a touch feral. “She took the place of one of the two that ended up going to jail for some high school prank turned near deadly.”

“Her and her newest friend,” Danny answered with a chuckle. “The student asked them to model for her since no one else was available.”

Kenta nodded, “My wife was very put out by the stuff that they are accused of doing,” he growled. “They have been blacklisted by her and everyone that she could influence, at least until they turn eighteen.”

Danny’s response was a low whistle, “Blacklisted before they even get out of the house,” he said, a smirk gracing his face. “Serves them right.”

“Daddy,” the younger of the two girls said, breaking into the conversation and drawing both of the adult’s attention. “You are being rude,” she finished.

Both men looked down at her, Kenta smiling but both of their eyebrows raised. “And how am I being rude my little flower?” her father asked.

“You haven’t introduced Miranda or myself,” the girl answered. “And you are literally talking over our heads.”

Danny had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at the girl’s precociousness. Kenta on the other hand sighed, a smirk crossing his face before solemnly looking at Danny and addressing his daughter’s comment. “Danny, these are my younger two daughters, Miranda who is eighteen, and Nemuri who is twelve. Girls, this is Mister Hebert.”

Nemuri smiled wide while Miranda rolled her eyes in exasperation with her sister. “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Danny replied with a smile and a slight bow.

“Is that your wife?” Nemuri asked indicating Emily.

Danny grimaced slightly, the pain of his loss showing for a heartbeat before he answered. “No,” he said. “That is the aunt of my daughter’s friend, her name is Emily Piggot and she is the director of the local PRT branch.” As he answered he noticed Nemuri’s eyes got big at that while both Miranda and Kenta seemed to freeze in place.

“Interesting,” Kenta commented as he finally sat down in the aisle seat of the row. A moment later the lights all dimmed, and a young blonde woman stepped up to the microphone stand that was set off to one side of the stage.

**

(Edited by Bob to remove color/font markup for readability)

[ECSNorway]

White text on white background is hard to read, sorry.

[itsune9tl]

(ctrl) + U Strips all non markup Formatting (leaving just html & BB code) from selected text, in Windows.

[Rajvik]

and here it underlines everything, i fixed it i think, is anyone else having trouble?

[Bob Schroeck]

There is a button in the WYSIWYG editor that will remove all formatting, which is what I used, only with care to make sure I didn't nuke the italics and the link.

[Rajvik]

yeah, did the same

is it working for the light side background now?