There were many ways to commit heresy in the land of the Goddess. Arranging unsanctioned public gatherings, committing assault or murder against a fellow denizen, and cursing Her name in earshot of a crotchety old lady were perhaps some of the more well-known.

But none were quite so lucrative as idolatry.

Jebediah's third greatest wish was to go back in time and tell himself this sooner. His second greatest wish was to have been born with a different name.

His greatest wish was to have been born as a magical girl. But he didn't tell his friends about that one.

They might get upset at the thought of him running them out of business.

He took in a deep, deliberate breath, feeling the staleness enter his lungs. "Ahhhhh…" He let out the breath just as slowly. "Never change, Leanbox. I'm lovin' ya right now. Lovin' ya!" He took a few moments to stretch and flex the various parts of his body, letting each limb make an audible pop. Something told him that it was weird for him to be so loosy-goosy. But why shouldn't he be? The Festival was going. Money was flowing. Life was good.

Oh, man, the Festival. It was always fun to see what kinds of new customers this time of the year would bring. People of all stripes came running to the city with their wallets full of credits – real paper credits! And metal ones, too! Where did they even make that stuff anymore? He remembered hearing somewhere that the metal used in the cheapest type of change was worth more than the coin itself. But, of course, you weren't supposed to melt it down. That was against the law.

Not that the customers cared much about that whole "law" business.

Speaking of which, it looked like he had a potential customer approaching right now. He always liked to size people up before he talked to them – it was a good sales technique, of course, but his curiosity was the real driving force there. A girl, huh? She looked awfully young. And dressed up all fancy just like some character in a comic! How brazen! Was she a fangirl, maybe? Ka-ching!

"Excuse me, miss! Would you perhaps be interested in perusing the services of the Idlers Inn? Good food, live music, and an excellent place to lay your head when it grows weary!" He handed a paper from a stack on the little table next to him.

The girl accepted it with dull eyes. She scanned over the text of the flyer before looking up, handing it back to Jebediah. "I'm not interested."

This was always the hardest part. "Ah! Such a young lass should not be ailed with such a disheartened state! Allow the Idlers Inn to lift the pout that has found itself upon your delicate lips! Satisfaction is guaranteed, I must add!"

A few steps had already been taken by the girl as if she intended to ignore good ol' Jeb, but she eventually stopped in her tracks and twisted around on her heel. "Alright. Fine. I need a place to sleep, anyway."

"Splendid! You will not be disappointed – this, I swear to thee!" Hm. He may have laid it on a little too thick. Maybe he should work on getting the accent right, at least. He'd never been great at rolling his R's.

Either way, he was past the first hurdle. He held open the door to the innocuously titled Idlers Inn, noting the eye roll he got from the girl as he did so. Such a cold, indifferent air emanated from one with such a beautiful aura. Had he been mistaken? Was this girl not a mere customer, but, in fact, a potential candidate? Would he be so lucky as to stumble upon such a being on this long, long night? Typically, his next step would be to follow the customer and direct them to the services they sought, but he could feel the delicacy of the ice upon which he now tread. He must not frighten the game now!

The inside of the inn was normal enough – for someone seeking a nightclub, at least. It hardly looked like the kind of place where one might find rest, its neo-retro design being made to appeal to those who yearned for an era that had never existed. Clean and smooth was the name of the night, the interior being painted in large geometric patterns that seemed to glow in the dim, heady atmosphere. Lines of light ran across the floor and walls, pulsing with occasional beads of energy to the beat of the music currently being played live by a band upon the stage to the side. The beat was driving and heavy, but while many other clubs found throughout Leanbox relied upon such a rhythm to entertain its guests, the volume of the instruments and percussion were toned down ever so slightly here. After all, how else would one hear the melodious lyrics currently being sung by the fancifully clad girl at the front of the stage? Her presence was such that it was difficult to peel one's eyes away long enough to notice the two others serving as backing vocalists, let alone the three other musicians handling the instrumentation.

The candidate seemed to pause just inside the entrance for a while as if to take it all in. Not much of a party girl, was she? Weird. She looked foreign, and he knew for a fact that Lastation's night life was the wildest in all of the Union, as much as they liked to pretend otherwise.

The girl was making her way over to the bar directly across the room from the entrance, but it was clear from her gait that she was lacking in confidence. He'd need to keep a watchful eye on this one.

"My, my. You look lost, my dear." A patron who happened to be seated at a table near the bar had taken note of the newcomer. The patron was an older woman, apparently possessing a fair amount of wealth, judging by the make of her slim, ankle-length dress and the array of jewelry arranged around her neck and wrists. Most of the Inn's visitors had plenty of cash, but few liked to show it off like Camilla. Unlike many ladies of prominence, she kept her hair free, the long, black strands running to about halfway down her back in a silky cascade.

The girl paused in her tracks when she realized someone was speaking to her. She exchanged a few pleasantries with Camilla before sitting down at the table with the woman.

"So…an all-girl band, huh?" the candidate asked, propping one arm on the back of her chair.

"Yes. They're quite something, aren't they?" Camilla's head turned toward the stage, one corner of her mouth tilted upward. "Beautiful – true works of art, one could say. Such attention to detail – such perfect proportions. Their leader dressed in the most flattering of attires, as if an artist wished to direct attention to her first, to have one's eyes meet those behind her at exactly the pace desired. And each and every one of them – a feast for the eyes, indeed. To have the smallest sliver of the thigh exposed at just the correct height…to have the bust hidden beneath an attire that highlights it just so…" She moved her attention back to the girl next to her. "Quite scandalous, would you not agree?"

A nervous laugh came from the candidate, although the sound was drowned out by the music. "They're…pretty. I'll give them that much."

Camilla raised a brow as if in surprise. "'Pretty?' Is that all? But I suppose you believe they must pale in comparison to yourself, hm?"

"I…"

The wolfish grin Camilla was giving the candidate was making Jeb a little uncomfortable. Camilla leaned forward, placing her hands together on the table. "You should be careful, dear girl. One just might mistake you for a CPU yourself with that lovely face of yours."

By this point, the candidate was looking around as if for an avenue of escape – anything to avoid locking eyes with the woman in front of her. Jeb could swear that the girl had turned a few shades paler, although it was hard to tell with the lights glaring and flashing as they were. The girl suddenly stood, pushing her chair back in the same motion. "I-I'm sorry. I think I need to leave."

Uh-oh. Jeb had seen what Camilla did to people who turned her down. Jebediah started making his way across the room as Camilla stood to match the girl, but before he could take more than a few steps, he saw something else moving in from the corner of his eye.

Double uh-oh. There was no mistaking the big guy in the big black suit. One of the Inn's bouncers had taken notice, entering the scene from the shadows in a corner of the room. Jeb had seen what Camilla did to big guys in big suits, too. It was a good thing Camilla had a lot (A LOT) of money, because they probably wouldn't have let her back in, otherwise.

"Camilla, Camilla, Camilla," the bouncer said as he approached, lights of various shades reflecting off his indoor sunglasses. "We told ya to play nice once already, didn't we?"

The woman's own eyes narrowed. "I am merely having a pleasant conversation, as I am sure she can attest to. Is that not right, dear?"

A moment passed before the girl nodded vigorously. "Y-Yes. Just a conversation."

Another moment passed as Camilla stared into the bouncer's sunglasses, as if intending to kill him with a glare.

"Today's not a Fraternizing Friday," said the man. "We ain't got those during the Festival, and you know that."

"Oh-ho," Camilla scoffed. "Then perhaps you should keep a better eye on your personnel, hm, Morty?"

Jeb wasn't quite sure how Camilla had recognized the bouncer, since he sure hadn't been able to tell who was behind those glasses. Morty stared at the woman for another few seconds before turning to the candidate next to her. "Huh. We didn't get any new girls in recently, did we?" He scratched his head in an obvious sign of confusion. "What's your name?"

"A-Ah…Nowa. I-I mean Noire. It's Noire!"

"Noire…" the man mumbled to himself. "Who's your registered owner?"

"Eh?"

"No owner, then, huh? That's weird. Maybe a runaway? Got your memory wiped or somethin' and just wandered off? Can I get a manufacturer? A serial number, at least?"

The CPU was looking an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes glancing between Camilla and Morty as if hoping answers would be provided for her.

Morty let out a groan. "Guess I gots some work ta do, then." He reached a giant hand out as if to grab the girl's arm, but she slipped away from his grasp with surprising reflexes.

"D-Don't touch me. You might regret it." Noire was trying to form her face into a glare, but it came across as more uncertain than angry.

"Hey, now. That's different. Did some idiot program ya for military specs?" Morty took a step back. "Aw, crap. You didn't kill the guy who bought ya, I hope."

Camilla was already standing a safe distance away, arms crossed, watching the scene play out with some amusement. "My, my. That is quite a hole in your security, is it not? I believe that I am feeling less safe already. Perhaps I will be taking my money elsewhere…"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Your Highness." Morty dropped into something resembling a fighter's stance, meaty arms ready to grapple an opponent. "Come on, Noire. No need to make this tougher than it's gotta be. Just…hold…still!"

He lunged forward, reaching for the CPU once again, but he stumbled forward into the bar when she jumped to the side with a little spin, neatly dodging his grab.

A murmur was beginning to rise around them – some of the patrons had noticed the commotion. Not good. Jeb pressed a hand to his forehead, running it down his face. Why did this kind of thing always seem to happen on his shift? It really put a damper on his mood.

In the next moment, Jeb felt someone collide with him, nearly knocking him over until he recovered by pushing on a nearby table. "OW! Watch where you're going!"

His anger quickly receded when he turned to see the source of the collision. There, sprawled on the ground in front of him was the bringer of the current trouble befalling the Inn – she must've bumped into him by accident. The girl was reaching for a chair to pull herself up, her face twisted into a tear-stained grimace. The attempt she made was slow, and she succeeded only in rising to a sitting position on the floor before pausing to catch her breath.

Huh. That didn't seem much like the behavior of a military CPU to him. Then again, he'd never seen a military CPU before, so what did he know?

"Get her, Jeb!"

Oh, right. He wasn't a bouncer, but he was still an employee. And he'd be in big (BIG) trouble if a CPU just ran right out the door. She didn't seem to like the whole grabby thing, though. The way she was acting, she seemed a lot more like just a candidate to him, but if they said she was a CPU, then she was a CPU. He wasn't an expert on CPUs, so what did he know? "Hey, uh…miss. Sorry, but you need to stay here."

"What…are you talking…about?" Noire spoke with gritted teeth. "I'm getting…the heck…out of here! And what was…with that…ridiculous accent…before?"

"Oh, right. Ahem!" Jeb cleared his throat and dropped to a knee, raising his arms in theatrical fashion. "I doth beseech thee, madame! Do stay thine flight, forsooth! For who shall be one to tell what horrors await thee outside? Not I, this I must say!"

Noire was clearly not amused. That hadn't been the intent, anyway. Her annoyed expression suddenly became one of agony for a split second before she fell back to the floor, completely limp. At that very same moment, a sensation most terrible pressed itself upon Jebediah, as if a heavy cube of ice had fallen into his stomach and frozen him from the inside. Thankfully, the wave of nausea passed as quickly as it had come.

Morty rose to his feet to study his handiwork. "Nice one, Jeb. Turns out you're useful for somethin', at least."

"I am but a humble servant, to serve thee as whatever thine sees fit! If thouest shall have me serve as distraction, then so be it!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're real funny, Jeb. Just be glad she didn't get her hands on ya."

Jeb gave a deep bow like that of a performer. "Ah, but should the worry be not upon myself, but upon the fair lady who now lies before us?"

"This 'fair lady' is anything but. Don't kid yourself." Morty took a moment to fiddle with the device in his hand before placing it on his belt, the red-tipped prongs of the stun gun shimmering in the varied lighting of the Inn. "Uhg. Hate usin' this thing. Gives me the willies."