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Text: Jay to Crimsonfang

Sunday, 12/22/2250

Jay Gardner 8:23 AM: What do you know about Veronica Calver?
Crimsonfang 8:30 AM: So you’ve heard about the attack, then?
Jay Gardner 8:32 AM: Ross woke me up last night, school was on lockdown, apparently.
Crimsonfang 8:35 AM: She’s a hired assassin, we don’t know who or why she was a hired.
Jay Gardner 8:37 AM: Do you know if it’s just an attack on the Vanders, or is it aimed at the school?
Crimsonfang 8:40 AM: We know her motive, it’s not against the school. We fear she may return to the school, however. Extra security will be provided. Calver’s a difficult catch.
Jay Gardner 8:42 AM: Good, I’ll let Rodney know. Second question, what level of danger does Adrian Calver present remaining employed at the school? If his sister is attacking the Vanders, he may be assisting her.
Crimsonfang 8:50 AM: We don’t believe he’s involved, but we’re still considering the possibility. Can you get intel on him? Your demon may be of use. Vander is too close to the issue to get a reliable reading.
Jay Gardner 9:02 AM: Ross claims that Adrian is a love sick puppy about Vander, and Rodney has backed him. However Rodney and the rest of the staff can’t necessarily give good readings either because they’ve also developed attachments/friendships with him.
Jay Gardner 9:03 AM: I’ll have Ross keep an extra eye on him though, just in case.
Crimsonfang 9:06 AM: Alright, we’ll let you know if we learn anything more.
Jay Gardner 9:12 AM: Good luck


Inevitable Monsters

Friday, 12/20/2250 – By Rebecca Green.

Just another monster in the closet, she thought in amusement.

She hadn’t expected to go this far, hadn’t really even needed to so early on, but something about this kill was capturing her attention. Only very rarely did someone manage to fend her away, but that pipsqueak? The woman had quite some fight in her and Veronica had been fairly impressed by her. Intrigued, even. This was, after all, a challenge. A game. Nothing more.

Attacking the woman head on wouldn’t work, no, of course not. She wanted to make the woman hurt first, bruise her until she couldn’t stand and was left ripe for the picking. Otherwise, Veronica would simply be making the woman angry, and Veronica always liked to play with her food.

Veronica sat still in the confines of plaster walls, the oaken aroma of the closet door overwhelming her wolfish senses. Boots sat beneath her, squished under her weight, and a handful of winter coats were crumpled back behind her. She held the dagger between the tips of her fingers, her thumb rubbing against the hilt. It wasn’t her dagger, it was Vander’s, the very one Vander had managed to stab her in the side with when Veronica had attacked her. Before Veronica knew just how deliciously dangerous she could be.

This would be the best plan of attack, or at least the most interesting. She didn’t need to attack the redhead again, not yet. Instead, the man sitting on the couch a room over would be much more suitable.

She could hear their voices as his young daughter spoke clearly and excitedly. She was speaking about an experiment of hers, one that Veronica cared little for- the girl was smart, Veronica knew that, but she preferred the explosive kind of experiments over the attempt to make medications less sleep-inducing. The daughter – what was her name? Lunette. She was Vander’s niece, even attended the Academy. Sounded young and couldn’t even be much of a teenager.

The man responded with a hearty laugh, pride in his daughter easily distinguished as he teased her exuberance while praising her at the same time. She would be grinning, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the counter that separated their living room from the kitchen in their small apartment. Veronica listened and waited, waiting for just the right moment. Her ears strained to hear, trying to figure out where they would all be. She’d seen the apartment’s layout before, when she’d snuck in. It was small, but it had three bedrooms. His voice echoed and Veronica could tell he must be facing away from her. The girl’s voice came toward her instead. Perfect.

Veronica began to push open the door.

The knob squealed at the touch, the hinges creaking as they were turned, but the man’s words flooded over all of that. Shielding her from being heard and her eyes flickered over the scene before her. Yes, the man was sitting on the small, scratchy blue couch in front of the coffee table. Behind the matching arm chair, leaned up against the counter, Veronica caught sight of the girl.

Their eyes met, and she couldn’t help but grin.

The girl’s eyes widened and Veronica saw the way her gaze moved down toward the knife in her grip. She froze. Veronica took a step forward, raising one mocking finger to her lips in a call for silence. Lunette’s hands tightened against the counter as she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Despite the lack of warning, Jericho wasn’t stupid. He knew his daughter and instantly recognized the alarming changes in her posture. His eyes narrowed in concern and he began to ask her what was wrong as he turned to look.

Veronica lunged, Lunette shrieked, and Jericho jumped. A moment later and the woman and the man tumbled over the couch, the furniture rocking with the movement and the coffee table shattered upon impact. Jericho only just managed to grab the knife by its blade, struggling to keep it away from where Veronica aimed for his heart.

“Lunette!” He gasped, “Run!” The girl jumped at the command, the word acting as a push from shock as she whipped around, fleeing from the room. Down the hall, her younger brother had begun to wobble his way down, thumb in mouth as he heard the commotion. Lunette scooped him up before darting into the first room, their parent’s, and slammed the door behind her, tears flooding down her cheeks as she did.

“Hello!” Veronica spoke cheerily as she flexed her legs around the man, arching her back to try and push the knife toward him. Jericho struggled below her and she took pride in knowing the one reason he still moved at all, was because she let him. Veronica tilted her head down in amusement, “Compliments from your sister. She’s been causing me a little trouble, you see.”

“R-Rhea?” The name ripped from his lips and the man’s eyes were frantic, his mouth opening and closing as he couldn’t comprehend what she was saying with the knife getting closer and closer to his chest.

“Oh just stop trying,” Veronica mocked, her own eyes lifting to glance once around the room. She looked backwards and caught the delightful sight of the young daughter peeking out of the bedroom they were attempting to hide in. Her lips curled into another grin and she looked back down at the man, “It’s much too amusing.”

The man groaned and she put all of her weight onto the knife. A moment later and it was sinking into his chest. Jericho convulsed at the wound, his hands desperately clawing at the hilt, one hand even trying to grab at her, but it was all in vain. The blood marred the floor, the couch, the table, and her own hands as he went still a moment later. Another shrill shriek had Veronica’s ears ringing. Veronica stood up to turn, the door slamming shut once more.

Veronica laughed once, dully stepping over the man and reaching down once to rip the knife back into her custody. She called mockingly as she walked, “Lunette, Lunette!” Veronica reached the door, placing her hand on the knob and jerking it once for show. There was a sob from within the room, and she went on, “Come here my dear.”

The door was predictably locked, but it didn’t take long for her to throw her shoulder into it, and it burst open. Seemingly empty, but the soft crying from beneath the bed gave them away. She took a step and the crying of the boy escalated into screams, a childish tantrum as the big bad monster stalked its prey. She hadn’t been planning to attack his kids, but it was just too good of an opportunity.

Veronica strode into the room with a dramatized sense of horror that was entirely orchestrated. Her footsteps slow, and twirling her bloodstained knife. Drops spattered just where she wanted to them- the window that overlooked the darkened street a floor down tinted with red.

“Lunette!” Veronica cooed, knowing exactly where the girl was but happy to extend this meeting. She took three steps toward the bed and then all at once dropped to the floor with a monstrous grin. Her golden eyes met a pair of violet and the girl’s mouth opened in a deafening scream.

The bed groaned with the effort as Lunette hopelessly tried to crawl backwards, only to be thwarted as Veronica clung to her wrists, twisting and dragging the girl out of her safe spot. Lunette struggled with every moment, tears flowing down her face as she was thrown onto the bed and a moment later Veronica was kneeled over the fourteen year old, holding down her arms and ignoring the weak, flailing legs behind her.

“Nice to meet you!” Veronica went on, her tone suggesting that this was anything less than a murder attempt. “Shame about your father, you must be so disappointed.” She scooted up, gripping the girl by the pink polka dotted scarf around her neck- jerking her up to stare into her eyes. “You’ll be meeting him again soon, though.”

Her hands twisted, the scarf following as she pinned Lunette to the bed, her elbow digging into the girl’s collarbone as she tilted her own chin up, staring in amazement at Lunette’s eyes. The way they flickered around wildly at first. Toward the window, pleading for help, the way they fixed on Veronica’s no matter how much she didn’t want to. Lunette wanted to close her eyes, to get away, anything to escape, but instead she couldn’t breathe.

Oh god, she was going to die, her lungs screamed with pain and Lunette spasmed with broken sobs that couldn’t even make their way out of her mouth. Veronica’s grin was plastered in her vision, those golden eyes that seared and burned into her.

Neither heard the door open below, neither heard the scream from the living room as Lunette’s mother and grandmother came home to see the bloody mess of their apartment. The bloody mess of her father’s body. Lunette would be joining him soon, she felt it- her mind was fading and she welcomed it.

Veronica’s head snapped away from Lunette’s only at the sound of running. A desperate mother’s call for her children- and Natalie was standing in the doorway, horrified to see this strange woman on top of her daughter. She shrieked with rage, jumping forward, but Veronica was faster. The assassin leapt from atop the girl, hurtling toward the window as the grandmother called the police.

In the next moment, Veronica had disappeared into the night. Behind her she left a woman crying for her daughter to wake up while sirens blared down the street.

Fault Lines

Saturday, 12/21/2250 – By Rebecca Green.

The drive to Chicago was dead silent. Rhea didn’t even look at Adrian as she sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He looked at her every so often between keeping his eyes on the road, but he was unwilling to break the silence with an attempt at conversation. There was nothing he had a right to say to comfort her. He didn’t know her well enough, he didn’t know what to say that would help. Instead, he was doing the next best thing- taking her to her family who would know her infinitely better than he would for quite a long time.

When they pulled up to the hospital, he pulled up straight to the door, in the drop-off loop. She glanced at him in confusion before he explained.

“I think you should go up first.” He began, still speaking in that gentle tone. “This is your family, I don’t want to intrude.” Going up there, knowing that Natalie would be there too, and feeling as if this was his fault, no matter how little he could have stopped it, was much too difficult for him to bear. He’d much prefer to have the distraction of parking and heading up afterward.

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Spoils of War

Saturday, 12/21/2250 – By Rebecca Green.


Last night had been wonderful – magical, even. She couldn’t really describe what had happened, but it had been like a dream straight out of the sappy romance novels she couldn’t stand. She’d awoken with Adrian’s arm around her and her head against his arm, deep in the depths of the library. She felt on top of the world, but at the same time there was a level of perplexion.

She’d felt comfortable, waking up with him. It had been a strange level of intimacy, nothing sexual or even physical about it except them touching each other in the barest manner. She hadn’t been that close to anyone in a good thirty years, not emotionally, and not so innocently. Perhaps that was what she liked about Adrian- he was so inexperienced, yet he was entirely sincere in every action he took toward showing what little affection he felt comfortable showing.

It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to be so vulnerable. Falling asleep with him- deep and sound, and she knew it had been foolish in part, with that mad woman after her, but she felt… safe, as silly as that sounded.

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Ross Calls Jay

Saturday, 12/21/2250 – By Kayla Salmon. 

Ross 12:43 AM: JAY

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Friday, 12/20/2250 – by Nicole Adams. 

Adrian’s heart was still pounding, his sight dizzy, and he hardly knew how his legs hadn’t given out from under him. Maybe it was because the plan, the work, and the effort put into making sure everything went just right, had been worth it in the end. He’d sung, done his best to ignore the hundreds of eyes staring at him by focusing just on Rhea. He had shown more courage than he’d really thought he’d had as he pulled her into a dance. Now he had her by the hand, drawing her from the atrium and the crowd watching them go.

She had to have known, or at least suspected. He had seen the confusion and surprise in her eyes at the first note of the song, blaring above the noise of the crowd of students, the sharp blue fixing on him, her mind instantly working to identify him past the hair dye, the ornate mask, the colored contacts, and the dark clothes he’d donned. And, under suggestion from Aelita to make the ploy harder to see past in a second, he had changed the pitch of his voice to one deeper.

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Bottoms Up, We’re Going Down

Friday, 12/20/2250 – By Kayla Salmon.

Ayato was looking forward to the masquerade, mostly for the chance to get out and have fun with his girlfriend. Knowing that she wasn’t about to go the whole nine yards meant he didn’t have to either; a shower and a nicer set of clothes, dress pants with a button-down shirt and a pair of shoes that weren’t too shabby. He’d gotten a mask from the prefects who had been in charge of buying or making them. He’d arranged to meet Cleo in the Eagle’s House around seven, and he was there right on the dot, standing in their common room and waiting for her to appear.

Upstairs, however, everything was a mess. The girl’s dormitory at the Eagle House had been in an absolute uproar for the better part of the day and Cleo was forced to sit for nearly four hours as all of the madness swirled around her. Her sister and a few of their friends had insisted on doing some sort of spa prep thing in which they did facemasks and each others nails and then make up, as well as swapping jewelry and shoes and making sure dresses and masks were in order. It had been fun at first, but Cleo didn’t like being pampered and she didn’t like people picking and plucking at her in any sort of way, so it had gotten old fast. Her sister had barely been able to wrangle her to brush out and then use a curling iron on her hair. It looked great, but Dee had burnt her several times and after just a touch of makeup, Cleo made a break for it, grabbing her shoes in her hand and running for the stairs. Her mask sat on top of her head, its red and silver swirls matching the red of her dress and a silver necklace she’d donned.

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