Operator:
Session #2

"Endret"

The sun burns a deep orange in the dusky sky and a harsh wind blows, carrying on it the unmistakable scent of mid-summer. A woman clad in a long, black duster and a man in an awkward green suit stand, together, outside of a warehouse on the edge of town. The two of them take off their sunglasses, hers black and square, completely concealing her inhuman eyes, his round and green.

"So, this is the place, right, 38?" The man in green says, popping his neck and taking a huge, elaborate battleaxe from his back. She nods and draws her gun.

"Yup. Ready, Once-ler?"

"Ready as ever, Three-eight, you know that."

"There's five of them in there-four downstairs, and boss-man upstairs."

"Right." The two of them vanish, leaving no trace that they were even standing there.

Inside, the two of them walk, staying low and to the shadows. True, they could easily take out everyone in there, but the element of surprise is always alluring. The woman stops short and holds her hand up, balled into a fist, signalling for the man, Once-ler, to stop.

"See 'em, E-6?" She asks, motioning to eight people: four men, three women, and a young child, bound. Three of their captors stand around them, holding assault rifles on them.

"No good, those assholes have their guns right on the hostages. If we go in now, they'll just shoot every one of them." Her finger moves, pointing to a fourth "asshole" pacing in the distance.

"We're going to start with that fuck-face. When he calls out, at least one of those pricks will run over there to see what's going on. That's when we'll jump the others. While we're wasting them, the remaining ones, except ol' boss-man, will come running. Got it?"

"Yep." He nods. "Pincer?"

"You know it." The two of them appear, standing to either side of the pacer, just out of sight in the shadows. The two of them dash from the darkness, the woman firing, striking the pacer's left leg, blowing it off below the knee. He screams and falls to the ground. Before he can try to get up, a silver axe-blade slices through him, killing him. The two of them slip back, out of sight. Two of the men run over there. The younger of the two stops.

"Son of a bitch, look, Lawrence! His leg's off!" "Lawrence" stops and looks down at the dead man lying on the dusty floor.

"What the fuck...?" Suddenly, he is pulled backwards, the haft of an axe in front of his throat. He gurgles and fires in an upward arc, striking the wall across from him, while the other man's head simply vaporizes. The haft is pulled harder and he struggles against the tall, lanky man holding him until there is a loud, popping noise. He falls limp. The third and final captor cries out:

"What's going on over there? I heard gunshots! Lawrence, Joe, what's going on!?" Getting no reply, he looks down at his captives. "You all stay right here. I'll be back, and if even one of you has moved even a little bit, I shoot the kid, got it?" They nod, terror in their eyes. He runs over there calling out to his allies. Before he can get a single word out, the dark wood grip of a large pistol comes down, striking him in the side of his head. He lets out a yelp and falls to the ground, his skull fractured. She fires once, into his head, to make sure of it. She turns to Once-ler.

"E-6, I'm going upstairs to deal with the big bad. You take the hostages out, okay?"

"Sure thing, 38." He nods. She runs for the stairs, and he turns to face the hostages. Smiling, he slips the axe back into its place on his back. "Hello, everyone. I'm here to rescue you."

"Are you with the police?" One of the men asks. He shakes his head.

"No. I was sent here by someone else. Everyone keep calm and quiet while my partner takes care of the last man here, and I'll untie you and take you out." He unties them and walks, leading the way, to the front door. He opens it and motions outside. "There you go, freedom! Take care, everyone." He opens his eyes. Standing outside is a large crowd of people, each of them looking right at him. Several police cars are parked out front, as well as a news van or two. His eyes grow wide, and he pulls himself back in. "No, no, no, no. Fuck. Did they see me? I think they saw me. Damn it." He hears a gunshot and 38's laughter. "I have to tell her."

He meets her at the stairs, running up to her, frantic.

"Oh, hey, E-Six. What's up?" His blue eyes wide, Once-ler says, pointing to the door.

"They saw me! They all saw me, every damned one of them!"

"Oh, no shit? I sent you to let them loose, of course they saw you." Frustrated, he grits his teeth.

"Not the hostages. There is a goddamned crowd outside, 38!"

"Shit. How many?"

"At least 30 of them. There's a couple news vans and some cop-cars, too. I think I may have even heard a helicopter."

"Well, fuck. Blink back?" He nods and the two of them Blink back to HQ.

"Oh shit, what do we do?" 38 walks away, her arms folded behind the back of her neck.

"Nothing. Job's done, man. Good work."

"But they saw me. A shit load of people saw me." She turns back around to face him.

"Yeah, but they didn't see you Blink or any crazy shit like that. As far as those folks outside know, you're just a regular guy-some vigilante that wandered in there, freed those folks, and vanished. Praise God, it's a miracle." She blows. "Mortals." He stands there, puzzled. Lately, it seems as if she were bored and was just going through the motions. It was really starting to bother him and he has decided to say something to her about it.

"38, what's been wrong with you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like you don't give a fuck any more. Used to, we'd go do something like that, and you'd get excited, slaughter nearly everyone there, and have me take the hostages or whatever outside. Now, you lack enthusiasm entirely-like you're just phoning it in. What's going on?" She shrugs.

"I don't know. I mean, after we kicked stupid's ass a couple years back, it just sort of feels like you and I are doing the same goddamned thing every day. Go kill all these fuckers right here, but none of the fuckers they have tied up, you see. Then come back. That's all we get to do. I want some excitement, some adventure. Something a bit different. Hell, that or just flat out let us have a rest, you know? Just because I can't feel tired doesn't mean I wouldn't like a break from time to time. I mean, you can't tell me you wouldn't like to just take a rest; sit on ass for a month or two."

"No..."

"See? I mean, there are a shitton of other Operators, we're not the only game in town, man. I'd like it if we just got to gloam around HQ for a bit, spar some-I'd really love to see how you fight, now. Maybe teach your little ass how to shoot a gun. That'd be cool." She goes back into the pose she was in a moment ago and walks down the hall. He stands there, alone, for a minute or two, then heads off to his quarters himself.

Later that night, he sits in his chair, his feet up on the window sill in his room. The window's open and a false night-breeze blows in, accompanying the illuson of an early summer night coming through. It was a nice night, he decided it would be, so he left his jacket, tie, shoes, and gloves inside, his button-down open. He shuts his eyes, letting the cool breeze blow through his soft, ebony locks. Then, he notices something. He sits up, his eyes wide.

'What the fuck? Am I going crazy, or do I not have a pulse anymore?' he feels his chest, waiting. 'Come on, come on...please...just a little thump, I need to know. Do I...am I still alive?' After what felt like hours, he feels it, a small, slow beat. He gasps, he had been holding his breath. 'Oh, thank God...wait...son of a bitch.' he shakes his head, that wasn't just it. There was something else. 'In the two years I've been here, I've not been hungry or thirsty once. Hell, I don't even really get tired, I just like to sleep...can I still eat?' He stands. 'There's no food here-the Naturals have never eaten. I'm going to have to Blink into a store or something, find something there.' He does so, Blinking into a small grocery store. He stands there, the light buzzing above his head, the linoleum floor sticky under his bare feet, the very faint sound of Hank Williams Senior playing over the half-blown speaker of some forgotten radio. His eyes scan over the snack cakes he had Blinked himself to. After a bit, he reaches down and takes one he remembered liking when he was still mortal. He starts to walk to the checkout line, then remembers that he doesn't have any money. He bites his lip. 'I don't really like to steal, but I need this; I have to know. Sorry about this.' He Blinks back into his quarters. Sitting the coconut-covered marshmallow cake on the table, he stares at it, trying to work up his nerve. Letting out a whine, he reaches forward, snatching it up and devouring it, quickly. At first, he feels fine, then, he falls to his knees, vomiting. Every bit of that cake, on the light wood floor of his quarters. After a few harsh coughs, he looks down into it. 'It just looks chewed up...there's no stomach acid. Why is there no stomach acid? There should be.' A moment later, a pair of black boots stand in it.

"Hey, Once-ler, I was wondering if you'd want to..." 38 looks down at the white cake sticking to her leather boots. She studies it, then looks over at him, sitting, his knees up and his hands behind him, then back to the cake-puke. She pouts, then Blinks away. He stands.

"Oh, shit! 38 saw that. She is going to be pissed at me over this...why didn't she say anything to me? Why'd she just pout at me and Blink away like that? She doesn't pull any punches, not with me, not with anyone. This has to be bad. I should go talk to her. It might be better to go to her on my own instead of wait for her to come back in here, pissed off at me and made of insults." He walks to his door and steps out. He knocks on the door next to his, and, a minute or two later, 38 opens the door.

"Hey. Come in." She says, her voice more dull than he had ever heard it before. She steps aside, letting him into her quarters. He was too anxious to even notice that this was the first time she had ever let him in here. The walls had deep burgundy wallpaper, with dark wainscoting and a dark wood floor. The deep maroon curtains were velvet and hung over a large bay window, the sea as seen through the windows of a Spanish galleon visible through it. Above it, in a glass case, was a flint-lock rifle. Tall bookshelves line the walls, filled with old, leather bound books, some of the titles in languages he didn't even recognize. A four-poster bed sits against the wall opposite the window, decked out in dark bedding, an old map of the Mediterranean Sea hanging above. A brass lamp sits in the corner, casting a warm glow about the room and the scent of lamp oil fills the air, while an amber globe rests in the other, a warm light shining from within it. A goblet of red wine sits on a mahogany desk with a Victorian-era chair pulled a bit back from the desk. He stands for a moment.

"Thirty-eight...these are your quarters?"

"I like boats and old stuff. What about it?"

"...Nothing." She shrugs, sitting back in the chair and going back to cleaning her gun.

"Just because I like to see how many times I can shoot something before it completely fucking disintegrates doesn't mean I can't like nice shit."

"Never said that, Thirty-Eight."

"So, what'd you need, Once-ler?"

"...You're not going to kick my ass?"

"Over what?"

"The cake, that's what. You can't tell me you don't have some sort of snotty remark about that, 38." She gets up and sits on her bed. She pats beside her.

"Sit. I don't have any other chairs, man. I'm not gonna make you sit in the floor like an animal, either. You're my partner, not my dog." Reluctantly, he does as he is told. "So, you wonder why I'm not giving you the verbal beat-down of a fuckin' life-time over the cake-puke? It wasn't fun to step in, and it makes me want to back-hand the hell out of you, but I won't. I'm not mad because I know what's up. You are not the first E-Class, remember? I've seen this happen four times before you-Tsukiko was a bit of an odd one. Evil as a motherfuck, don't know why Master had her made, tell the truth." She shrugs, "But, she's a dead skank now, so we don't have to worry about her any more." She pats him on the shoulder. "They all went though this before you: Roldan, Kayode, Jaegar, and Listelle. All four of 'em freaked out like that when the last of their mortality slipped away. Roldan, perhaps the hardest. He's still broke from that, it's why he acts weird. Fucker don't talk, don't know how Tonfa puts up with that. If you stopped talking, I'd have to kick your ass in until you started back up again. Won't even respond to his name, just E-1. I mean, seriously, if you see him, call him Roldan and see what happens."

"So, what I'm doing is normal?"

"Normal is relative. You know Roldan stopped talking, Kayode went nuts. Started stabbing himself, shooting himself, jumping off high-up shit. Trying to see if he was really immortal, I think. Jaegar did pretty much what you did there, except it was most of a ham instead of a little cake. Poor Tin Can. Even worse for him, running around in that armor all the time like he's some sort of knight. Listelle got mopey for a while, crying a bunch. She got over herself, yeah, but she was fucked up there for a while. I mean, I'd be upset if my ass had to be bound to 72 forever, too. Fucking clown. Hate clowns." Getting back on track, 38 continues, "My point is, what you're doing was to be expected. Why fuss at you for something that I knew was going to happen? True, you're going through this quicker than the others, but still."

"Quicker?" He looks at her, his brows knit in confusion.

"Yep. This normally takes a couple decades. You've only been an Operator for two years, and that was the last of it. You won't lose anymore. You'll still breathe-I mean, I breathe, and I was never human, so you know you're going to forever. Blood will still flow around in you, there, and your heart's still gonna keep beating. Just, you know, at 1/100th of its old pace."

"What about pain?"

"Huh? Oh! Nah, shit will still hurt, sorry to tell you. Only Naturals feel no pain. It'll dull a bit over time, though." She lies down. "So, that it? I mean, you're welcome to hang out in here with me if you like; I don't give a shit, and it might be nice to actually have some company in here, but you can go back to your quarters, too." He thinks about it for a moment, then just lies down, too.

The next morning, he wakes up to find 38 sitting at her desk, reading with her back to him. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, the light from her "window" bright, stinging them. It was still the view from the window of a galleon, but this time, it was morning, and the boat was clearly moving at a pretty decent speed across, what he guessed, was probably the Atlantic.

"I slept here the whole night?" He asks.

"Yep." She replies. "It's cool. You really seemed like you needed the rest, so I just let you be." He buttons his shirt.

'I can't believe it. She's still...indifferent. I've never seen her like this. It's a little unnerving. I mean, she is an intense person. Loves killing people in as violent a way as she possibly can, laughing like hell while she does, but she's still...mellow. Fuck, snap out of it, Thirty-eight. You're scaring me.' She stands up, stretching.

"It was a long-ass night, E-6. After you just sort of konked out, I got up and found something to read. Read all night. Haven't got the chance to do that in a long-assed time." She pushes her chair in and puts the book away. "Go get dressed and we'll go see who the fuck we've got to go kill the fuck out of, today." He Blinks to his room, dresses and grabs Cassiel. He stands for a second, and thinks better of it, leaving the huge axe in his room, taking only the pair of kama. He Blinks into the Main Hall and finds 38, with an excited look on her face.

"Oh, thank God. I don't know if I could handle "Apathy Thirty-Eight" much longer.' She rushes over to him.

"It's actually a good 'un. We're gonna go kill this asshole that makes kiddie porn. Gonna go waste the shit out of him and the other pervs that help him molest kids and record it for other goddamned perverts. I love killing fuckers like this. Lessgo! Let's go kill the douche-bags! Eight of 'em, too." She giggles. "Oh, eight. Nice round number. Let's not even Blink outside of the place, let's Blink on in there and just start waylaying shit." She laughs, this time. They Blink.

They find themselves standing in a rather large old house. From the windows, it seems they were in the middle of nowhere. A man sits in a ruined lounge chair in front of them. He sits, staring, stunned for a second. 38 smiles down at him.

"Howdy, fuck-face." She raises her gun and fires, blowing his head completely off.

"What the fuck was that!?" They can hear a man yell. After a loud chorus of stomping, the door flings open. Three men stand. Unarmed. 38 raises her gun, and holds it over her shoulder, firing. She hits the one in the middle, he falls. Once-ler darts to the other two, driving both kama through the one on the left, drawing them out, and driving the right one in an upward sweep, into the other man's jaw.

"Good. I'm gonna go this way, you keep headin' down that hall." She dashes down the opposite hall, her giddy laughter carrying back down the hall to him.

"Well, at least she's back to normal." He says. He hears two gunshots ring out. From the sound, he knows it's Debbie. He goes through the right wing of the house, finally reaching the large, high-ceilinged kitchen. A man raises out of the refrigerator holding a cheap beer. He looks at him, and takes his ear-buds out.

"The fuck do you want, weirdo?" He sighs and throws the right kama, it landing squarely between the man's eyes. In all this time, he still doesn't enjoy killing, even when he knows the target deserves it. He places his foot on the man's head and yanks backwards, taking the kama with him.

"Good work. Tell you what, Once-ler. This time, you go get the big-bad. I'll head down to the cellar and let the kids out. I'm sure they can find their way back, and we really don't have any other choice, I mean, me walking into town with a bunch of kids that just so happen to be listed as missing? People'll think I took the little bastards."

"Really? You've never sent me to do that before."

"Eh, you've earned it, E-6. I know I've been a sad-sack for a while. Tryin' to make it up to ya." She smiles. "Now, go get him."

"Where is he?" Thirty-eight points up.

"Attic." He pops his neck, rolling the kama across the backs of his hands, as he walks towards the stairs to the attic. 38 holsters Debbie and walks out the back door.

He stands outside of the door to the attic, up on the second floor of the house. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door. Before he even knows what's going on, there is a sharp pain in the left side of his chest. He looks down, and sees a long, metal, spear-like contraption embedded in his chest and can feel the cold, metal claws around his heart. It is pulled, hard, from him by a man with sand-coloured hair and a sharp, cruel smile. Once-ler falls to his knees, his eyes wide, his hand moving over the hole, blood gushing out. The man scowls down at Once-ler.

"Fuck, whites and round pupils. I was hoping for one of the black-eyes." He shrugs. "Eh, I recognize this guy. He's one of 'em." He tries to stand. "Nope." He is kicked, hard, in the side of the head, falling to his right, his kama scattering across the room, lost in the darkness and dust. "Get up! You all are supposed to be powerful. You're supposed to be immortal. Get the fuck up, pretty-boy." He tries, pushing himself up, only to be met with another kick, striking him in the chest. This time, he cries out. Part of the man's foot had managed to catch the open wound. He coughs, lying on his back, his knees up and his arms bent at the elbow with his hands above him. His eye-sight fades in and out, pain making it difficult to see, especially in the dark. The little bit of light in there catches on the man's face, illuminating it. A wild smile crosses his face, a look of jubilant fury in his green eyes. He reaches down, grabbing Once-ler by the hair and yanking him over to a laptop, plugged in and shining a small amount of light at the wall. He throws Once-ler down in front of it. He pushes himself up, only to be kicked yet again, this time, to the back of his head, driving him forward. He skids a bit, and is grabbed by his ankle, jerked backwards, and rolled onto his back. "You wanna know how I know what you are, Mr. Green-suit? Huh?" He grabs his green and black tie, yanking him up by it. It constricts against his neck, choking him. "Now, look!" He pulls him by the tie again, this time, forcing him in to a sitting position. On the screen, he sees a blog. In it, he sees, amongst a great deal of text, several photos of different Operators. Naturals are depicted with their eyes in full view. There are several videos, one depicting Once-ler himself, Blinking over thirty feet across a room and slicing a man with a machine-gun in half with a single, upward swing of Cassiel...swung by one hand. The strange man laughs. "See? From that, you can see how I thought you'd be a lot stronger, Green-suit." He tilts his head to the side. "You're pretty popular, Mr. Green. Caught on camera a shit load of times, always with this black-eye with red hair and a big gun. She seems to boss you around, Greeny. You her bitch?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh! You can talk! And here, I thought you were mute." He gives an over-exaggerated sigh of relief. "I thought you Executioners can't talk."

"...what? What'd you call me...?" He glares at him, annoyed.

"You heard me, you little bitch. Executioner. It's our term for your kind. You are a white-eye, for obvious reasons-same goes for the black-eyes." He minimizes the window and turns on his web-cam. "Now, we're going to put on a little show, me and you." He shakes his head, chuckling. "This is going to be great-people fucking love you, Green-boy. Sure, girls like you because you're cute or hot. You also seem to be the strongest of the White-eyes, but all of you are shit compared to Black-eyes. Now, tell me a secret. Why are your eyes white?" His soft blue eyes look up into this strange man's eyes.

"Up your's." That man kicks him in the center of the chest, knocking him backwards.

"How about you watch your mouth, Green-suit? There's a good boy." He pulls him up by his tie again. "Now, answer my question. Why are your eyes like that? Is it because you were human, once? If that's it, how did you become what you are now?" He sneers at him, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Oh man, it's that red-head black-eye, isn't it? Like goddamned vampires, she made you into one! That's why you are her little bitch, ain't it, Green-suit? Ha! The little fan-girls aren't going to like that." He says, his voice sing-song. "You hear that? He belongs to Red. Red and Green-like motherfuckin' Christmas!" He laughs. Loudly. "Speaking of Red, where do you think she is, Green? Think she left you behind? I think so. I think she just might have. I mean, you did just get your ass handed to you by a fuckin' mortal. She seems like the rough-around-the-edges sort-like that sort of thing would piss her right off at you."

'Is that what happened? Did 38 leave me behind...? No. You know she wouldn't do that...would she? No. No goddamnit, Once-ler. You know Thirty-eight. She doesn't know what's going on up here. If she did, the second she saw that camera, she would have shoved him through it. She'd find a way to make him fit.' His eyes brighten for a second. 'That's it! What would Thirty-eight do here? This guy seems unstable-I mean, no shit. He's a child-molester. Those people have mental problems to begin with, along with that shit. He seems like he really likes the idea of me being on camera, and I know I am. I don't think it's live...could be. Meh. Doesn't matter. Look at him, still going on like that,' He looks at him, flailing his arms, speaking frantically at the camera and motioning to him repeatedly. He doesn't give enough a fuck to pay attention to what he's saying. 'Fuck-face. Filming yourself about to die, motherfucker...if I provoke him, I know he'll start beating the hell out of me again. I really don't like this plan, but if I actively get up and attack-start looking for my kama, anything like that, he'll see, flip his shit, and kill me. I mean, the dickwad did know to take my heart, so he probably knows, or at least has an inkling, that that's a weakness-that I can be killed that way. Ugh. That settles it, I hate this plan, but it's the only one I've got, and the only one I can see. Get the shit kicked out of me for a little while, get my kama back, and kill this asshole. I can do this.'

"-with enough money, you will determine what I do to Greeny! I know how sadistic you all are, so hop to!" He laughs again. "Oh man, Green. Look at this! Already, I'm getting people asking me to take your clothes off. Already, like, 20 people have asked that, specifically. Oh. This one's nice. "Bind him with his own tie after you get him naked, okay? God that'd be hot" and they put fifty million fuckin' "t"s in there. "Yeah, then gag him with his own underwear"...woah, damn, look at that one below it! A fuckin' novel, there. Some of these are getting sick...and very specific. Fetishes I've never even heard of in there! "What the fuck is with that hole in his chest?" and below it, "fuck that hole in his chest". I love you guys." He turns back to Once-ler. "They want you, man." He turns back to the camera. "I can't do any of that shit right now. You've gotta pay, first. Anyway, let's get this going! Interrogation!" He takes Once-ler's heart out of his pocket, blood coating his hand as he holds it in front of the camera. "I think you all know what this is. That's right! It's Green's heart!" The odd man squeezes his heart. He screams, flailing, twisting, trying to escape.

'I-I have to calm down. Mother of fuck, that hurt! How does he know to do that!?'

"Now, you all know he can't do jack-shit while I have this," he puts it back in his pocket. "So, we'll just hold on to that, for a while-make sure he doesn't pop up here and rip my head off like we all know he can do." He turns back, looking at Once-ler, who was gasping for breath, his eyes locked on to him. "Remember that Pakistani gun dealer? Man, that was a fuckin' work of art, Green! Just how much of that guy's skull was still solid when you got done, 'cause it looked like you liquefied his head!"

'Rip your head off...? Well, you just gave me an idea. I hope the folks watching this at home like it. Perverts.'

"We can't fuck around all day, though, can we, and I've already wasted enough time. So, Green. End this speculation regarding who you were when you were mortal. They say that you're the guy that made that Thneed thing. That true? How are you so young? I mean, did she do that to you right after your company went belly-up, or something, because you don't look a goddamned day older than you do in this old picture." He looks back and scoffs. "Still lying around?" He grabs him by the hair and pulls him back into a sitting position. "Get the fuck up for the nice people. There we go, Green! Isn't that better? Now, answer the question like a good boy. Are you or are you not the guy in this picture, right here." He motions to an old photograph of him pulled up on the monitor. "You are! You so totally are! Man, look at you, look at him. Same suit, same face, same guy."

'I can't let this keep going. I know he's live, now, I can see the requests coming in on the screen. I can't let him identify me.' He reaches forward, grabbing the pervert and yanking backwards. He piles on top of him, sitting, his back to the camera, and beats him in the face just as he had done with O'Hare two years ago. He takes his heart out of the human's pocket and pops it back into his chest, letting the wound close as he grabs the pervert and jerks him to his feet. "You wanted it, and I know your viewers will love this, the sick bastards." He grabs the molester's bottom jaw and slips his hand inside the mouth. Pulling hard, he separates the top jaw from the bottom, blood gushing out, the skull separating. The target's body falls to the ground, lying at his feet in an uneven, broken pile. He drops the top half of his head. He kneels in front of the camera, looking into it for a second before reaching forward, his gloved hand crushing it, ending the "show". He hears clapping and looks to the door. 38 leans against the door-frame, clapping. "Thirty-Eight!" She stands and walks to him.

"Bravo, Once-ler. I especially liked the head-ripping. That was nice. Good job wasting that pervert like that, letting him think he really had you."

"We've got a bit of a problem, here."

"Oh, what is it, now? Don't tell me more people have seen you." She cocks her head to the side, then laughs. "What? What's the problem, here?"

"Thirty-eight, more people did see me."

"How? It's just you, me, and that turd in here." She kicks the target as she says "that turd".

"That thing I just crushed is a web-cam. It was on a live-feed, streaming what he was doing to me to a shit-load of people on the internet."

"Well, fuck."

"That's not all, I'm afraid. Come sit here with me. There's something else, too." She looks at the dead man, crumpled on the floor.

"I have to sit near that? Man, I used ranged weapons for a reason. I don't want my coat gettin' all bloody." She perches down beside him, her coat, indeed, getting rather bloody. He shows her the blog. "Executioners, Black-eyes, White-eyes. They got the terms wrong, but a lot of this is accurate. How many people have seen it, Once-ler?"

"It's the internet, 38. Many, many people have seen it."

"Well, take it off, then!"

"Internet doesn't work that way. We're going to have to show this to The Master."

"Aw, fuck." She whines. "Man, He is going to be so pissed at us! I know I seem like the sort you don't want being pissed off at you, but Him, man. I've seen Him mad once since the beginning. He fucked the entire planet's shit in the street." Her body hanging limp while she keeps her head up, the two of them Blink back to HQ. She looks at him. "Let me call Him. I've got to let Him know we need to see Him, that we've got some serious shit we've got to tell Him." He stands there, watching her. She stands perfectly still, a vacant look on her face. After a couple minutes, about how long it would take to actually have a physical conversation with someone, she "comes to". "He'll see us, now. Let's get this shit over with and hope like hell He lets us live."

The two of them Blink into The Master's office. It is exactly as it was two years ago, save the blood. The Master stands with a very, very annoyed look on His face. He looked almost like a normal elderly man, except His eyes. They were not the eyes of a human, and not those of an Operator, either. They were almost solid gold-both the whites and iris-but His pupils ran in vertical slits, like His creations' eyes. He wore a black vest and dress pants, and a white button down. A pair of round eye-glasses rest on His face, and His short, grey hair was neatly groomed, along with His facial hair. Thirty-Eight immediately bows, Once-ler following her lead.

"We don't have time for this, today, Thirty-Eight. You and E-6, stand up." They do as they are told. "From what Thirty-Eight tells me, we must be very brief, today. She has shown me this website. While I am not mad at the two of you directly, I do find the sheer amount of times you two are pictured disturbing-perhaps I do lean on the two of you too much, and I am really not fond of the fact that the most recent picture of you, E-6, is from the news. However, the two of you are the ones who found this, so you two must be the ones to put a stop to this." He smiles at the two of them, but there is a bit of mischief that does not augur well. "The two of you face a different mission than you're used to. Normally, I send you into a place, with you well aware of who to kill and where they are. That is not the case, this time. I do not know where your enemy is and neither do the two of you. You will not like the solution I have in mind-especially you, Thirty-eight. The two of you are to live amongst mortals until you find who is doing this and put a stop to it. I do not know how the two of you can remedy this problem, and I think it will take a lot more than just blowing someone's head off to fix it." He looks directly at 38. "The two of you will need to think, to be clever. Figure it out on your own, in short." He looks at 38. "38, you will never pass for a mortal woman with your eyes like that. Come here, please." She looks a little afraid.

"Yes, Master." She walks to Him. Quickly, and tightly, He grabs her by her forehead, squeezing. She cries out, startled, her hands jerking upwards. He lets her go, and she staggers backwards. She opens her eyes. No longer black, her whites are, as they would be-white, the irises green, and her pupils round. He looks at Once-ler, now. He feels anxious. If The Master just did that to 38, what would He do to him?

"When you were mortal, E-6, you did gain quite a bit of fame...and infamy. However, it has been long enough that people will either expect you to be dead, or an old man. Just please, dress like a person. Leave that weird suit of yours here. The same goes for you, Thirty-eight. It's July. Mortals don't walk around in long, black trench-coats in July. It's too hot for them. The two of you will be provided with clothing when you leave here. Now, Thirty-eight, this is for you especially, but perhaps E-6 needs a bit of a refresher on how to "act mortal". Listen, please. Mortals are no where near as strong as you. E-6, Cassiel weighs over three times as much as you, yet you swing it around like it's made of paper. A mortal man could not do that. Remember that. The same goes for Debbie, Thirty-eight. That gun is enormous and the blow-back would blow a mortal's arm off. No lifting anything over fifty pounds, E-Six, and Thirty-eight, since mortal women are typically weaker than the men, to be safe, you shouldn't lift anything over forty pounds. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" 38 salutes. The Master looks at her for a second before continuing.

"Mortals get sleepy. If the two of you are going to stay in one town-especially if it is a small, close-knit community, you will have to rent a room at a hotel. "Sleep" while you are there, and if you choose to stay awake, be quiet and keep the lights off. Mortals also feel pain. 38 this is a problem specific to you. You have no concept of pain at all. That is why you can withstand a barrage of bullets without flinching. It simply does not hurt. E-6, teach her the appropriate reaction to pain, would you?" His eyes go sharp, any semblance of the mirth they normally carry, gone. "I cannot stress this enough to the two of you, but mortals typically don't like for people to carry an elaborate battle-axe and a huge gun about in town in plain sight. It will draw attention to you. Leave Cassiel and Debbie here. They will be well-cared-for while you're gone. Also, if you must get into a fight, fight like a mortal. No Blinking. No tearing off limbs. No heart-ripping. No head-crushing. Mortals typically cannot do any of those things. If you have to throw punches, remember, show restraint. Don't bust anyone's head in one punch." 38 pouts. This was going to be no-fun for her. "This is the most important of all. Mortals usually do not name their children numbers. While you are out there, you can not be Number Thirty-eight, 38. You will have to call yourself by a human name. E-6, you have a very...unique and noticeable mortal name. Take a pseudonym. In that same line of thought, do not call each other by your "real names". Mortals like cameras and they love to eavesdrop. 38, you cannot call him your Bairn, and he cannot call you his Progenitor. Thirty-eight, your name is Miranda out there. E-6, you will be called William for the duration of this. You have the surname Sunderland, okay? You are to pretend to be a young married couple from out of town-tourists." He takes a deep breath. "Thirty-eight, this is really what worries me the most about you being out there-moreso than your violent nature and the high chance that you will tear someone to shreds. Do not call anyone "Mortal", "Human", "Meat-bag", "Stupid ground-monkey", "Sloshy bag of blood and water", "Sack of organs", or anything of that nature. Finally, to make sure all my bases are covered, though you have existed since the beginning of time, 38, you are to act like a mortal woman-in short, only know about events that transpired, I'd say, in the past 30 years. E-6, act as you did when you were a young, mortal man-before you became corrupt, mind you. We don't need you destroying an entire ecosystem, again." He smiles and relaxes. "That is all. The two of you are ready to leave. Your clothing is in your quarters. Remember to leave your weapons here." The two of them start to leave. "Oh, and one more thing. Do remember to have fun out there, you two. Thirty-eight, not your fun." He slaps at his head, laughing. "Oh, I nearly forgot, silly me. Thirty-three is going with you. He's already been briefed and is waiting in the Main Hall for the two of you, so do be quick." They Blink to their quarters, enjoying the ability to do that while they can.

Once-ler shakes his head, this was going to be a long journey, and he knew that 38 was going to be a sullen turd the entire time. No guns, no Blinking, no ass-kicking, no insults-she was going to be very pleasant. Sitting his kama aside, he undresses and notices something. In all the excitement, he's forgotten that he's soaked in blood. Sitting his clothing in the bag Princess always left in there, he goes into his restroom and showers. Coming back into his quarters with a towel around his waist, he finds the clothing left for him on a desk in his office. They are very familiar.

"What the hell? How...?" He picks up the grey vest, looking it over. Along with it was a white button-down, striped grey pants, and his old grey fedora. "I really don't have time to worry about this, now, but still, damn! These are my old clothes!" He dresses quickly and Blinks back out to the Main Hall, finding Thirty-eight and Gears waiting for him. He busts out laughing the second he sees her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Shut up." She says, a scowl across her face. She stands there in a light blue sundress and a pair of sandals. She crosses her arms and glares at him.

"Well, it's a good thing that we're pretending to be a married couple, because you're pretty enough to kiss, Thirty-eight!"

"Don't make me slap you." After he collects himself, Thirty-eight glowering at him the entire time, they leave-38 finally getting her adventure and something different, after all.