Quest

---

Sol City was a totally different world to Starlight City. The fact that it was on an island was just about the biggest similarity the two cities had. There are pretty obvious delineations between rich and poor here, greater than she'd ever seen and she was glad that her adventuring had paid her well enough to look not too poor and out of place. Zarius had made sure she didn't look too slovenly before letting her out into the world. He was kind enough to give her this job too! Helping the poor by stealing from the rich sounds right up her street. As she passes through the lower part of the city she looks to all the less fortunate people, promising them silently that she'll do her best for them.

She gets pretty close to the warehouse from Zarius' instructions and makes herself fade into the shadows of the buildings nearby¹ so she can sneak around. She's sneaking around, trying to scope out how many guards might be at the warehouse, using all she's learned from her friends to make this heist go down well, even if she's all alone. She creeps up to the side of the warehouse, peeking around the corner to see who might be guarding the door.

---

1 Cloak of Shadows

The lanternlight is dull on the walls of the looming warehouse and the street before it. The snow has been haphazardly shovelled aside from the cobblestone roads, clumped into creeping heaps on at the buildings' sides. But, already, a flurry has begun to blanket them anew, soft and fluffy underfoot.

The loading bay door is a monstrous thing of solid oak. It would be not unlike a wall in any way were it not for the warm light spilling from a gap underneath it. On its outward-facing face is symbol that recognizable to anyone that is familiar with Sol City: a bolt of lightning, encapsulated by a cog. Unfortunately, Cirice is not altogether familiar with Sol City.

How the impenetrable door opens at all is a mystery - some mechanism, perhaps? But it doesn't matter, not yet. It isn't the only entrance.

Not far beside it is a smaller door, made for persons, not cargo. It's of simple, loveless make. Is it locked? Is it barred? Perhaps and perhaps; a far more pressing issue draws foremost attention, as two men(?) stand at guard beside it. At least they appear to be men, but they are so still that the snowfall has begun to pile on their heads and shoulders. They're like statues, but their weapons - a trident^[1] wielded by one and a set of knives^[2] by the other - are lifelike enough to warrant suspicion. But easily their most striking features are their eyes: perfectly red and perfectly round, like crimson lenses. They are excellent guards for menace, if nothing else. And, if their weapons are as sharp as they appear, they may be a dire obstacle, indeed...

---

"Um... Miss V-Veliky?"

"Yes, Yoci?"

"Remind me a-again why we need so many B-B-Blixtbots™, tonight?"

From atop her raised platform, Veliky looks about and across the interior of the chilly warehouse. Between the towering shelves, over a dozen armed Blixtbots™ patrol with clockwork diligence, lit by dancing torch-flames and the pale moon that shines through the skylight. As well, an Envy unit^[3] - a bot like a horse, with flames persistently spewing from the back of its neck like a mane - stands tethered to a great wagon^[4] by the loading bay door; and a strangely jittering canine - a Lag Switch^[5] unit - lies beside her, on the platform. Yes, this is an inordinate amount of protection, especially for a relatively small warehouse.

Equally inordinate is Veliky's own presence. That tiny, yet intimidating figure that stands clad in a strange mix of business and military attire; her eyes, as always, pierce frigidly between stray locks of golden hair. She doesn't usually intervene in storage-related affairs, but tonight is a special occasion. One could say she's meeting an old friend. Another could say she's confronting an ancient enemy.

She closes her eyes and lets in a preparatory breath before speaking.

"We're playing a stakeout. If our contacts are to be believed - which they are - then this warehouse has been marked for grand larceny. We're going to catch the thieves in the act."

"Oh... r-right..." Yoci - the twitchy gnome with strange, spiral-lensed spectacles - twiddles her fingers in hesitation. She wears obsessively tidy, yet unimpressive clothing, and her dull, light-brown hair is tied into a modest ponytail, allowing her pointed ears to jut unimpeded. She's almost as small as Veliky herself. "Do you... Do you think it's..."

Veliky wrinkles her nose in preliminary disdain. She knows, with fair certainty, what her head engineer is about to say.

"The R-Red Rogue?" The Gnome's voice is tinged with nervousness, but belies an undertone of intrigue.

Veliky's prediction was correct, but she isn't happy about it. She doesn't answer before letting out a pointed sigh.

"There is no 'Red Rogue.' It's a myth. These people are just criminals, using children's stories as a cover for their own greed and selfishness."

She steps forward and leans on the railing in front of her. Though she stands barely over half its height, she can peer between the cold, iron posts.

"...But yes. Those criminals are exactly who I'm expecting."

"O-Oh no...!" The Gnome doesn't hide her excitement particularly well. She crouches beside the peculiar, fidgeting dog-golem, affectionately patting the top of its head. The dog doesn't perk up until several seconds afterward, as if its perception were somehow delayed. "Well, I-I'm sure our bots can take care of any raps-s-scallions that try to steal from o-our company." She looks to her boss with an oversized grin. "Right, Miss Veliky?"

---

1. (Experienced Crew) Fisher-05
2. (Experienced Crew) Gutter-02
3. (Nightmare) Envy-04
4. (Wagon) Type-XVIII "Rolling Stone" Land Transport
5. (Ashlands Jackal) Lag Switch-05

Taking Minions
(Experienced Crew) Fisher-05
(Experienced Crew) Gutter-02
(Three is a Crowd II) Rook-11

Taking Pets
(Ashlands Jackal) Lag Switch-05
(Nightmare) Envy-04

Watching the two strangely still men for a few minutes from her hiding place in the shadows Cirice decides they must be dummies of some kind. Maybe statues made to look like guards or something of the sort. Maybe they're frozen and a nice warm fire would help them. She wasn't sure but she really didn't want to get poked by their weapons. No one needs to get hurt tonight, if someone does she'll have to heal them and totally get caught. The bigger door looks too hard to open to try to go in there so this door is her best bet. Perhaps she could try talking her way in and slipping a little magical kindness in for good measure... But if they are statues that would not work. A distraction to get them away from the door would probably work best if they are people.

She slips back into the shadows of the alley, going down to the end and taking out a small wooden hammer that looks like a miniature battle hammer out of her bag. Checking to see if anyone else is around and seeing she's alone she hits the side of the warehouse as hard as she can with it, barely scuffing the paint of the wall but making a loud, annoying squeeeeeeeeeak echo off the brickwork as she does so. Once that's done she quickly hides back in the shadows and goes around the warehouse to the other side, stowing the hammer and trying to sneak up to the door without being seen, praying the guards went to investigate her noise.

Narrow are the back-alley passes and dilapidated archways, their paths ill-trodden and sodden with slush. But, even on the open streets, the snowfall and prominent wind seems to close the world around, such that even the near seems far, far away.

The occasional sound disturbs the white noise; in a place such as Sol City, even the isolated docks are plagued by the slamming of windows, the songs of distant carolers and the barking of stray dogs. In time, they join the noise, becoming a part of the monotony.

But the sound of Cirice's hammer? Being so unfamiliar and emanating from only just around the corner? This is not so easily disassociated.

For the first time, the statuesque guardsmen show a sign of life or, at least, autonomy. Like doorknobs, their heads turn slowly and precisously in mechanical pivots, allowing the piled snow on their heads to crumble and pour down their faces (if this bothers them, they do nothing to show it). The movement creates grating, repetitive click, like the sound of a music box's key being turned, and its end is as jarring as its start.

Their red lenses now gaze impartially at the bellow-alley's corner. None could contest that it has their attention, whatever their 'attention' might entail. But, whether out of hesitation or apathy, they do not move quite yet.

Click, chchchch-whirrr buz. In a tongue that is foreign to all living beings, the trident guard emits some conversation. The knives guard understands; with a chirp-chirp in the same language, it responds. And then, as quickly as it began, the chat is over, and the knives bot appears ready to leave.

Finally, the knives bot emerges from its sculpture-stance. It steps forward on a taloned gait, cogs clicking and joints hissing as it does. The powdery snow on its shoulders shifts and falls to the ground. The golem's footfall is the source of a pronounced, distinct clank on the slippery stone. And it continues, marching lifelessly down the curb and into the darkened alleyway.

Even in the shadows, its crimson eyes seem to glow with an uncompromising menace. The sounds of its approach bounce off the alley walls, making its presence as known as it is smothering. With many a repetitious clicking, it looks left, right and forward. A bit of snow falls from the rooftop, adding to the piles - strange in its unprovokedness, but the knives machine pays it no mind. It halts; there's nothing here, no explanation for the loud squeak they'd detected before. Its face shows no confusion - or anything else, for that matter - but there's something to be interpolated in its inaction; it lingers for a moment longer, listening. It doesn't realize that the sound's actual source is now on the other side of the building.

From the shadows, Cirice can see that the knives bot is gone, assuredly down the alley. But one guard remains, and it's unclear how long it will be before the other returns. If there is an advantage to be pressed, now may be the time.

Seizing her opportunity once the knives bot sneaks away, Cirice pulls a basket of fresh muffins out of her bag and puts on her best smile. She drops her spell and skips over to the statue all alone.

"Hello! I'm Cirice! I'm here to deliver some muffins¹! Can you please let me inside? They're expecting me." She holds the basket of fresh muffins up to the construct. She gets a close look at him, really taking in the strangeness of his form. She looks deep into the weird red lensed eyes of Fisher, trying to gauge any kind of emotion therein as he turned and opened the door for her without a word she could understand. She reaches out and brushes some of the snow off the guard's head, feeling like a little goodwill was not out of place here. As her fingers softly graze against his metallic form the runes beneath her elbow-length gloves begin to glow a soft violet for just a moment². She slips past the robotic guy, realizing who he reminds her of suddenly. Astrid's little guy who kept falling in the sand on her very first adventure, Charles, was like him. Maybe they were related?

The door shuts firmly behind her as Fisher settles back into his guard position, having already forgotten about the tricksy elf he'd let right in. The first hurdle has been overcome! Cirice tries not to feet too proud of herself for making it this far as she takes in the inside of the warehouse. There is quite a lot of tall shelves, all stocked full of all kinds of wonderous goodies. It would be hard for her to make off with most of it unless she could manage to get a good deal of it into her bag. Or maybe she could have a crate or two float behind her as she leaves.... There are more strange metal men walking around and she slinks into the shadows once again to try to not get spotted³.

---

1 Smooth Talking 
2 Fade from memory
3 Cloak of Shadows

Meanwhile, outside and in the snow, the befuddled golem returns to its post as if nothing ever happened. Indeed, in its mind, nothing did happen, nor did anything happen in the mind the knife-bot who's now returning as well. All of a sudden, it seems an ordinary night, like any other. Well, of course, this place is far from 'ordinary.' Strangeness is abound: strangeness like the artificial guards whose crimson eyes remain motionless and stoic; strangeness like insignia on the great, wooden door; strangeness like the odd sprinkle of snow, falling from the rooftops, unprovoked; strangeness like the taloned footprints of the golems, dotting the snow; strangeness like a rather similar footprint on an overlooking rooftop.

Its parent is nowhere to be seen, but its siblings riddle the powdery snow: the offspring of an obsessive patrol. But, then, there's another one; forming from nothing, a taloned footprint appears on the very edge of the rooftop. At least, it seems to appear from nothing. Appearing just as unnaturally, another golem^[1] begins to materialize from patches of blue mana^[2], its foot firmly filling the print's outline. It's similar to the ones that guard the door: it walks on two legs, it carries two arms and it watches the through crimson glass. Only, its body is sleeker, like polished platemail, and it only possesses one eye - a long, lateral lens like a knight's visor. And that long, lateral lens like a knight's visor saw everything.

In one hand, it carries a longsword^[3] that crackles with electricity^[4]. But, with its free hand, it reaches to its side - where a person might wear a belt - and grabs a strange, little device^[5] that resembles a miniaturized version of one of the golems' heads. It holds the device in front of its face and speaks in a low, emotionless voice that cracks and groans like settling wood.

"Mistress Veliky, report:

---

an unknown civilian has entered the warehouse via the southern entryway." The voice resonates from an identical device on Veliky's belt. And, the moment she hears it, her eyes fill with unshakeable focus.

She raises the device to her lips and clearly responds, "Acknowledged."

She places it back on her belt, but not without catching The Gnome's panicked expression in the corner of her eye.

"Th-Th-They're here?! A-Already?!" she whisper-shouts, hands clasped to her mouth so dramatically that Veliky almost thinks she's feigning it. But this is Yoci, who knows no irony. "I-I haven't done my h-hair yet! I look r-r-ridiculous!"

Veliky looks at The Gnome with jade, resisting the urge to say 'You always look ridiculous.' Now, it would seem, she has more important things to deal with.

The quarterling ascends a small flight of steps to a sort of podium. Here, she can be seen all throughout the warehouse; this is necessary because, as becomes quite clear, the CEO of Blixt™ Co. is absolutely tiny. She stands shorter than a human toddler and has a far thinner frame; all in all, she can't be heavier than two stone. And yet she stands with all the confidence of a general, and bellows out with a voice as mature as it is commanding.

"All units, full alert! The target is in the building and I don't want them leaving. Find them!"

The order bounces off every wall, between every shelf, heard by everyone. Immediately, the bots' disposition transforms; where they once merely shuffled down the isles in idle patrol, they now actively search in every corner, scanning every nook and cranny with their red glares.

For just about everyone involved, things just became a lot more complicated.

---

1. Three is a Crowd II [Rook-11]
2. Invisibility (Rook-11)
3. (Sword for Dummies) X-01 Novice
4. Sigil's Blessing [Lightning Rune] (Rook-11)
5. Talking Heads

The announcement rings out loud and clear across the entire warehouse and Cirice’s attention snaps up to the podium. There is a very small form standing ramrod straight and commanding, they appear to be the one in charge. They also appear to be… A child? But… the voice was very mature, definitely not that of a child… The sentries all throughout start moving and searching for Cirice at the small person’s command and she knows she’ll be found pretty quickly with so many looking for her. She tears her mind away from wondering about the diminutive commander and thinks about the situation. What she needs right now is a distraction.



With a wave of her hand she summons her wolpertinger Ur from the shadows¹, the little rabbit-like creature hopping away from her at a run, waving its wings wide and chittering loudly to draw their attention. Cirice moves the opposite way, trying her best to avoid the guards as she sticks to the shadows, slipping a potion out of her bag and downing it quickly to mask the sounds she might make². It will be a lot harder for her to sneak off with stuff in the current circumstances, but she can’t leave empty-handed. Zarius would be really disappointed and she can't let him or the poor down! She slinks towards the big door and sees the laden wagon and the strange metal horse. That would be ideal for the taking! She backtracks slightly to the main thoroughfare of the aisles and snaps silently. With a roar, a large campfire flares into being³, effectively cutting off the main route to the loading door. That should buy her a little time! She makes a break for the door, staring at it in confusion for a second, bouncing anxiously in place as she tries to puzzle out how to open it.



“Come on, come on.” She whispers to herself, “Ah there!” The large heavy chain sitting in its simple pulley system doesn’t make a sound as she takes it in her hands and tugs at it, first the wrong way, the door wiggling and groaning in its frame but then she corrects her course, yanking with all her might to open it as best she can. The chain doesn’t make a sound as she opens it but the door rumbles and squeals against its track and she flinches, praying to Mother Moon she can get it open and get out of there before the guards catch her.

---

1 Summon Minor Minion
2 Potion of Shadows
3 Camp Fire

Veliky's only just given the order, and the warehouse is alive with the countless, dizzying conversations of the mechanical beings: clicks, grinds, whirrs, buzzes, beeps and chirps. The golems march up and down the aisles, methodical in their search, leaving no corner or shadow unchecked.

...Unfortunately for them and, by extension, Veliky, there are a great many shadows. She should've invested in better lighting, as she now realizes; the bots may be advanced, but they're no better at seeing through darkness than any halfling. Even The Gnome needs to squint to see with any comprehension.

"Where do y-y-you think they are...?"

Veliky doesn't take her narrowed eyes off the room below - certainly not for such a tedious question. She just leans on the frigid, iron railing, around which her hand can't even fully wrap. "If I knew that, we wouldn't be searching."

The Gnome says nothing more, knowing that she's embarrassed herself, enough. Disheartened, she breathes a misty breath into cupped mittens as the hullless canine stirs by her heels.

Below, the search is progressing quickly - good news for Veliky, baleful for Cirice. Carrying a crude, loveless spear of pure steel, a bot marches down a lightless path near the back of the room. It would be nearly undetectable, itself, were it not for its gleaming eyes and raucous movements. Its cold talons scrape across the cold planks as it takes its mechanical strides, eyes carefully scanning for any movement.

And movement, it does detect. A blur in the shadows draws its attention and raises its guard. It slowly draws closer, approaching the corner of an enshrouded shelf...

Then, in some artificial equivalent of being startled, it emits a screeching whistle as Ur leaps from the shadows! The golem swings an arm to catch it, but the shadowy little creature is already well out of reach.

A pursuit immediately ensues. The golems' intelligible utterances have risen to the volume of an angry mob. From a vantage point like Veliky's, they can be seen running up and down the aisles, desperately hunting the little intruder, like rats in a maze! Although the golems were assigned to this place and know the layout far better, Ur is practically built for it. Whenever it seems cornered, it knows an escape that the golems couldn't hope to follow.

That is until it's fleeing down an empty aisle, only for the strange and menacing silhouette of a canine^[1] to drag its iron claws around the corner of a shelf. It shows most every feature that the golems possess: the same joints, the same crimson lenses, the same lifeless demeanour. But its movements, while just as unnatural, are also possessed of a disquieting arhythm. Its steps seem to take it backwards as often as they take it forwards, only for it to suddenly jerk back into place, in the blink of an eye. Its head twitches unnervingly as its jaw creaks open. And then, with the crashing of a thousand tiny gears, it is suddenly midway down the aisle and charging toward Ur with cold, murderous intent.

Veliky watches it all, from her platform. The release of the mechanical hound should turn the tides, but the card-faced quarterling doesn't seem convinced.

She's startled by a hand on her shoulder - Yoci's. The Gnome's expression is confused and curious, but a massive grin remains pasted on her face.

"Lag Switch w-will get the j-j-job done! D-D-Don't worry!" She doesn't sound certain, herself. But, then, her unfortunate stutter gives most of her speech that same disseeeming.

It's no encouragement to Miss Veliky, who lightly bats the hand away whilst still leaning on the rail.

"It's a distraction. No half-decent burglar would cause that much noise without meaning to. But where-... What the-?!"

As much as she'd hoped otherwise, it seems Veliky was distracted as well. Only now does she notice the fire directly behind the wagon, and that the loading bay door is slowly grinding open!

"There you are." she hisses with a slam of her fist on the railing. "Intruder at the loading bay doors!"

Again, her voice resounds, audible even over the chaos. Immediately, half of the golems diverge, breaking off from the chase and charging toward the wagon!

They're drawing in, fast, and the fire won't hold them once they realize that it can't harm them; Cirice has seconds at most. The loading door has opened enough that she might crouch under it, but not nearly enough for the wagon to pass through. The Red Rogues are counting on her, children are counting on her, but will she be able to make it in time?

But, in all the confusion, a voice rings out - one that offers encouragement and hope in a desperate hour. "You c-c-can d-do it, Rogue!"

The voice, of course, comes from a strange, little gnome on the platform above. Though her stance is as meek as her form, her hands are cupped around her mouth, so that her call might be heard.

Beside her, of course, is an indignant, little businesswoman.

"What the hell's your problem?! This is *your* warehouse!"

Veliky didn't know what to expect, but she certainly wasn't *hoping* for a toothy, childish grin.

"Where's y-your Winter's C-Crown spirit? H-H-Haven't y-you ever gotten a gift from the Red Rogue?"

Veliky's anger disperses, replaced by exasperation. Were this any other employee, she'd fire them on the spot; but Yoci, exhausting though her antics may be, is indispensable.

"As a matter of fact-"

Her attention is torn away and toward the wagon again, by the sound of a shelf falling over. She can't tell what caused it, exactly, but it reminds her of the matter at hand.

She reaches into one of her breast pockets and produces what appears to be a tiny figurine. It is, in many ways, identical to one of the golems below, except that it's been accessorized with heavy wings and a toothy maw, and it's constructed of lead instead of tin. She holds the figurine in front of her and speaks a strange, seemingly inane phrase: "15:7, False Prophet."

At her utterance, the figurine begins to crackle with lightning. She reels back and throws it over the side of the platform, toward the wagon! And then, with a pulse of mana, the figurine grows in mid-air, into a fully-sized golem^[2] with wings of lead!

Defying all reason, a flap of these wings grants it flight; it crawls along the walls and ceiling, leaving cracks in its wake and spurring pebbles to rain down. Then, it turns its gaze down to Cirice by the loading door, and lets out a piercing rattle before diving directly toward her!

---

1. (Ashlands Jackal) Lag Switch-05
2. (Gargoyle Rook) Cherub-01

“Intruder at the loading bay doors!” The order rings out from the platform above like a condemnation from the heavens.

Oh god, oh no. Oh shit! Cirice frantically wrenches the door open as far as she can, the strange, metal men coming at her making her start to panic. The door is moving at a snail’s pace and the wagon certainly won't fit unless she can get it open further. She can’t fail! There’s too much riding on her success. So many people need these goods and she was given a job, but can she do it alone? Was this a mistake?

“You c-c-can d-do it, Rogue!” The hesitant encouragement stuttered into the air breaks Cirice out of her inner turmoil. That’s right, she can do it, this is about more than just her, its about saving Winter’s Crown! With one final desperate tug she yanks the door open just enough to get through maybe. Good enough to try! She hastily wraps the chain around the hook and runs over to the wagon, about to hop onto the back of the strange metal horse when out of the corner of her eye she sees a large shadow loom above, heading her way!

The runes on her arms flare to violent violet light and she holds them up above her and as the gargoyle swoops down to attack her she lets loose the curse she prepared¹ and the gnashing, clawing creature ceases its attack on her, falling docile above her. Another flash of glittery purple light and the gargoyle is sent, confused and benevolent, careening off to another direction² away from her as she pushes it away from her with all her strength.

Its now or never, she hops onto the metal horse and issues a command to it, “Come on horsey, we’ve gotta go or we’ll be late!” She kicks her heels against its side, lacing her words with convincing magic³. A loud metallic whinny issues from the monstrous horse and it charges forward, the entire wagon lurching with it as the steed makes for the door with blinding speed. Cirice realizes all too late that maybe she didn’t open the door quite high enough as the door nearly takes her head off and she ducks with a gasp. Not losing her head, she sighs in relief, in before the top of the wagon hits the bottom edge of the door, peeling back the top of it like a can opener.

Before she can really process that sight they’re out into the alleyway and galloping through the streets recklessly, all of Cirice’s strength needed to just hold on.

---

1 Be Jolly
2 Fairy Dust
3 Smooth Talking

In the darkened isle, the abnormal hound-golem rushes forth and toward Ur! Its movements are impossible to follow: unnaturally jerking left and right, stopping and starting without any discernible rhythm and generating an impossible cacophony of unloving material that assaults the senses!

By the time it pounces, there is no evading. By the time it pounces, there is no escape. By the time it pounces-

CRASSSHHHHSSSS

...there's nothing for it to pounce upon? It crashes and grinds against the ground, where Ur once stood yet is nowhere to be seen. Its momentum carries it forward in an awful-sounding slide that sends sparks and leaves ugly marks on the floor.

There's a stillness, and then the hound raises its head and sweeps about. If a construct can feel confusion, it currently is.

Meanwhile, atop the elevated platform...

"Ch-Ch-Cheer up! W-We d-don't even need that stuff!"

Toward this ordeal, Yoci and Veliky's dispositions are as disparate as comedy and tragedy: upon Yoci's face, a wide - if uncertain - grin; upon Veliky's a scowl so fierce that she's building muscles in her forehead.

"Yoci, we are dealing with a *criminal*. The last thing we should be doing is *encouraging* them, thi-this isn't some game!"

At first, it doesn't even seem like The Gnome's listening. She's just leaning on the rail, kicking her feet as she watches the spectacle below with childish giddiness. Then, suddenly, she points over the platform.

"Come on, b-be nice f-for once! L-Look, Cherub has the idea!"

"I'm not going to-... Wait, what?!"

Dropping her verbal barrage for a moment, Veliky follows Yoci's finger to see the most perplexing sight: Cherub, a minion designed specifically to cause grievous bodily arm, is floating lazily through the air like it just drank six bottles of grog.

Contrary to Yoci's suggestion, this does not assist Veliky's mood.

"You've got to be KIDDING me!"

This is the last straw; it's time for her to take matters into her own hands. Letting go of the rail, she rushes off, toward the back of the platform and into a side-room. Yoci watches her with some concern, and a little more confusion.

"M-M-Miss V-Veliky? Wh-where are y-you- WAH!"

She practically dives to avoid collision as Veliky suddenly erupts from the doorway, zooming atop a flying broom^[1]! The flying CEO wastes no time in taking to the loading bay. But she isn't quick enough - the wagon has already blasted out of the room, destroying its own roof and trampling two guard-bots as it does - the very same that the 'Red Rogue' had foiled on the way in.

She curses, but doesn't stop. She deftly slips through the opening in the door and into the snowy night, hot on the wagon's back-wheels! The sudden drop in temperature feels like a fire on her skin; she raises a forearm to block the snow from entering her eyes. The buildings are whipping past at an astonishing rate, and night-animals scurry at the spectacular commotion.

"Dammit!" she whispers. "Go faster, you worthless stick!"

The hooves the Envy-bot pound on the slippery stone as it gallops. It's an amazingly fast creature (a fact that Veliky finds herself loathing in this moment). The flurry, however light, seems almost like the winds of a whipping blizzard, at this speed; the remnants of the red cloth that covers the wagon now flaps erratically, the insignia of Platinum Corp barely discernible upon it.

Veliky can't help but curse her own engineers' designs. She can't believe that her own tech's being used against her! But it won't stop her. She's almost caught up; reaching an arm forward, she can almost touch the tailboard! She closes her eyes and grits her teeth. Closer, closer...

She touches the dark-oaken panel of the wagon. Success! But it's only fleeting. She feels a strange but familiar sensation of the sinking variety. The broom's magic has run out. End of the line.

The tip of the broomstick lowers only slightly, but it's enough to send Veliky violently crashing into the harsh, cold unforgiving cobblestone. The pains of a hundred blunt-force traumas meld into a singular, universal, excruciating ache. It takes her less than a tenth of a second to lose count of the fractures. As the wagon tears down the street, the little businesswoman's body rolls along the bumpy ground before coming to an unceremonious stop.

...

She's alive, at least - in pain, but alive. Of course, any normal person would've been lucky to survive at all, but Veliky is a woman with many secrets, and the ability to survive the lethal is apparently one of them. As she rises to her feet and dusts herself off, an otherworldly, brass light can be seen in her eyes^[2] with which she gazes down the street. She can still hear the revolution of wheels and pounding of hooves, but cannot see the wagon itself. She knows that it's long gone.

Then, another sound: the familiar chaos of nearer-drawing clanks. And another: a certain squeaky and slightly nasally voice.

"M-Miss V-V-Veliky! A-Are you o-o-o-okay?!"

Looking over her shoulder, Veliky sees Yoci running at her so quickly that it activates her fight-or-flight instinct. Luckily, the gnome stops before she could inadvertently tackle Veliky to the ground.

Veliky rubs her right arm. Only now does she realize that her suit's been torn in several places. They're only small rips, but they have dispelled the enchantment; where Veliky had once been wearing a neat business suit, she now appears to wear a strange, skintight outfit^[3] of black fabric. She groans at the realization.

"I'm fine... Will need to get this reenchanted, though."

She bends her right arm at the shoulder, the elbow, the wrist and the fingers. Full functionality: incredibly impressive, given how nastily she landed on it.

"I don't know what this's made of, but you did excellent work with this arm^[4]. Doesn't even hurt."

Her voice is tinged with a certain impressedness - one that replaces The Gnome's concern with barely-contained giddiness. But this glee, too, fades as the Gnome looks down the road.

"I-I guess the m-mission's a f-f-failure, huh?"

She's frowning. It's a fake frown, as Veliky can tell easily enough, but part of her does appreciate the attempt to retain some soberness. She also appreciates that the gnome is woefully, woefully wrong.

"This isn't a one-night job, Yoci." She turns back to the street and stares at the back of her right hand. Suddenly, a red glow appears there, in the shape of an arrow that points into the city! Beside it is a similarly tinged number that changes at each second, exactly: 337m, 360m, 380m, 386m, etc. A direction and a distance: all she needs^[5]. "Get the cleanup crew and grab a few Blixt™. We aren't sleeping tonight."

Finally, she turns to face the group of Blixtbots™ that've come to her aid, and she can't help but let her eyes be drawn to the inconspicuous basket that one of them is carrying.

"Are those... muffins?"

---

It's shockingly easy to escape with the cargo. Perhaps it speaks to Cirice's burglary skills. Perhaps it speaks to the lacking security of Sol City. Perhaps its speaks to the utterly unorthodox riddle of how to stop a hurtling wagon that's being drawn by a flaming horse. Whatever she has to thank, Cirice's found herself a quiet place on the Docks, away from prying eyes.

The fire-maned horse is a surprisingly cordial creature, free from any of the spook that a mare normally expresses in such stressful circumstances. And its flame does provide some warmth on the cold, cold night. It possesses the same glass eyes, the same mechanical joints; it's truly as if the same creature were twisted into the form of a horse. Either way, its friendliness is a boon enough.

The wagon, however, is not in excellent condition. The roof, of course, has been utterly torn off; it cannot travel the streets without suspicion. Though, that would be a difficult prospect, regardless, as recognizable insignias mark the wagon in multiple places - the same insignia that marked the loading door. Transporting the cargo from here will be a challenge. Perhaps she could arrange for someone to deliver it? Perhaps she could steal another-

CRACK!

The noise comes from the back of the wagon, from within one of the crates. It's the wincing, distinctive and foreboding snap of wood. And it came not from outside, but within. Perhaps Cirice should've stopped to wonder exactly what she stole.

SNAP!

With another awful sound, the top of one of the crates bursts open! And peering out, from within, are the crimson eyes of...

...

...a mechanical dog. It's a tiny thing, no larger than a pup, but it possesses the peculiar features that the guard-golems did. With little, red eyes, it looks blankly at Cirice.

...And then it begins to talk.

"Young moon elf, introduction: I am a Type-I Canine-Model "BFF" Blixtbot™. My designation is BFF-16. What is your name?"

---

1. Flying Broom
2. Heavenly Infusion
3. Morph Suit
4. (Durabone Graft) Personal DuraTin EndoArm
5. (Tracker Tag) Latch Beacon