The night was young, and he was bored. He was sitting on some rooftop, staring out over the streets of the city. He wore a white coat that matched his white hair, collar stretched upward to hide the malicious smirk he wore on his face for no apparent reason. Around his neck was a slightly-shaded white gem held by a small chain, laying atop a small ankh necklace. For leg and footwear, he had black jean-like pants over what looked like boots. One leg propped up on the other, he held a scythe across his lap. An intricate weapon, seemingly made from silver. He had been using this scythe against the various Demons of Florence, Italy for some time now. About six months, if he remembered correctly. Long enough to fluently learn Italian, at the very least.

It had been, what, two, three years since he'd been Contracted? He'd have to ask the Incubator that had done the deed. Of course, getting mentally thrown ass over appetite every time he fought didn't help his memory any. What always remained clear in his mind, however, was his combat performance. Regardless of how large or small any errors might be, he'd work on them, training and practicing until the mistakes were no more. That was what he'd been doing on this rooftop, in fact. He was taking a short break from practicing to look out over the city he protected. I knew there was a reason I picked this city when given the option.

He recalled the circumstances that brought him to Florence: an Incubator lacking Contract material needed a Magi present to keep the Demons from over-running the city, along with some others. Why on Earth the Incubator had offered one of the very few male Magi the chance to claim Florence as a hunting ground was beyond him. One of the Puellas would be better suited to this location. Not that he actually cared, anyway. Killing Demons was a business to him, even if he didn't actually get paid for his kills.

His thoughts and reminiscences were promptly interrupted by a light buzzing noise coming from his coat's pocket. Of all the Magi in the world, both male and female, very few carried cell phones. And very few of those actually kept in contact with other Magi. He was one of those few of the few.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he clicked the "Answer" button and raised it to his ear. "Paladin." he announced, introducing himself. He waited for the person on the other end of the line to do the same.

A deep breath and a torrent of extremely angry Japanese told him who it was without the speaker needing to announce themselves. He couldn't understand most of what was being said, but he managed to pick out his first name, Michael, and the Japanese word for "idiot" in the same closing sentence.

"Kyouko, I can't speak a word of Japanese," he said into the phone. "You know that better than anyone else in that town of yours."

That snide comment only brought an even angrier torrent of Japanese his way, including what he assumed were curses. They continued for about a minute before Kyouko was abruptly cut off by someone with her taking the phone, much to Michael's relief and amusement. Not many could do that to the Red Dragoon (a nickname Michael had given Kyouko based on her hair color and weapon of choice; he only called her that to her face before learning her name) and get away with it without being cursed out. Whoever this mysterious cell-snatcher was clearly had Kyouko's respect, grudging or otherwise.

"Hello, Michael-san?" came another girl's voice, sweeter and more musical than Kyouko's. Her English was almost unaccented, but she still used the same Japanese honorifics

"And you are . . who?" Michael led, expecting a name.

"Mami Tomoe. I'd like to apologize for Kyouko-chan's outburst-"

Before she could get past "outburst", Mami was interrupted by a very loud "He deserved it!" from Kyouko, spoken in English at that volume for Michael's sake, no doubt.

"Be quiet or you won't get any cake." This came through muffled, as if Mami—if that really was her name—had put her hand over the mouthpiece. "As I was saying, I'd like to apologize for Kyouko-chan's outbursts." Michael noted the plural that was used this time, rather than the original singular. Apparently, Kyouko shouting "He deserved it!" counted as an outburst to this Mami girl.

"Apology accepted, Miss Tomoe," he acknowledged. "Now I'm going to make an assumption and assume this is not a social call." He thought for a short moment. "Last I checked, Kyouko hated me, and I doubt that's changed."

A short scuffle later: "You're right. It hasn't."

Another scuffle and muffled talking again: "I said be quiet." Whoever Mami was, she had the phone on speaker, unless Kyouko had had it that way to begin with.

Too much going on? Don't over-think it. After mentally chastising himself, he asked his next question: "So who are you, exactly?"

"Kyouko-chan's friend."

"That's one answer, but not the one I'm looking for."

"What answer are you looking for, Paladin-san?"

"One that tells me not just who you are, but what you do."

"Is that so, Paladin-san? I'm a Puella Magi, much like Kyouko-chan is." Well, now. This was news. Good or bad, he didn't want to determine just yet.

"So back to my original question. Why call another Magi, and why me?"

"Mitakihara needs another Magi, Paladin-san. The Demons here are multiplying. You're the only non-Mitakihara Magi in Kyouko's phone, so she called you." Michael doubted that Kyouko would call him willingly, and he said so. "With a little bit of convincing." He had to admit, the reasoning was sound. He wouldn't be able to confirm the statement without checking with an Incubator, something no Magi in their right mind would enjoy doing. The little white fuzzballs tended to drop loaded sentences and double meanings whenever they had any kind of discussion with a Magi.

"Mami Tomoe, you have yourself a deal," Michael said, finally, after thinking it over.

"A deal? I don't recall making a wager."

"What I meant was, I'm agreeing to come help. Just gimme a week or so to figure out how."

"I'm sure you won't need that long."

"Speak for yourself! You're not the one who has to cross an entire continent and leave one of the most beautiful cities I've ever been in to whatever rookie the Incubators manage to contract." With that closing comment, he hung up, opting to switch on some music rather than shove the phone back into his pocket. Much to his surprise, though, when he got up and turned to leave the rooftop, he found himself staring down at an Incubator. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked curtly.

The Incubator stepped into the light, revealing the seemingly soft white fur and floppy ringed ears that set them apart from most animals. I overheard your conversation with the Puella Magi from Mitakihara. The Incubator didn't necessarily speak—that would've required moving its mouth—but it made its thoughts audible, instead, for lack of a better definition. Potential Contracts are beginning to surface throughout the city. Florence will be able to do without your services for a time should you choose to actually go to Mitakihara.

Michael scoffed. "And who's saying I won't be going?"

Your skills in deception, unused though they are, are unmatched among the Magi, occasionally to the point of deceiving yourself. That is what I have observed.

Michael thought for a moment, only slightly insulted by the Incubator's observation. "Is there somebody ready to take my place?" He held up a hand to stop the Incubator from interrupting. "And if not, will they be ready by the time I leave?"

Yes.

"Not the best answer, but it's the best I'm gonna get. Isn't it?"

Michael almost thought he sensed amusement, of all things, in the Incubator's "voice" when it said Yes.

"Alright. Will you be coming along?"

The Incubator turned around to walk back into the shadows. Of course not. Mitakihara is not under my jurisdiction. Should you encounter another Incubator, you will be dealing with Kyuubey. However, the percentage of encountering another Incubator along your travels is less than 1%. With that closing remark, the Incubator vanished and Michael deactivated his Soul Gem, returning to his usual street clothes. Unlike his Magi "uniform", the color scheme here was straight black rather than monochrome. A black button-up shirt worn open over a black long-sleeved shirt, black cargo pants draped over black running shoes. The silver ankh necklace remained while his Soul Gem had "transferred" itself to a ring on his left hand.

'You know, sometimes I wonder why the outfits we get favor mobility over defense,' he thought, flexing his hand experimentally. 'Not that I'm complaining. Makes it easier to use combos with my scythe. But still, a little resiliency would be nice.' Finishing his musing, Michael turned to leave the rooftop, and while he did, the scythe-user pulled out his phone and turned on some music.

He considered calling his employers and telling them about his replacement, but why should he make things any easier for either party? It wasn't like his employers actually paid him on a regular basis, and it wasn't like his replacement would return the favor if and when Michael ever returned to Florence. Besides, he had better things to do.

He still needed to pack for his trip to Mitakihara, after all.