Radiant Garden wasn’t somewhere Caeley would pine for a vacation, to be frank. Everything felt absurdly superficial, well, to be fair this place was under considerable control and everyone here was rather loony as a consequence. But she just didn’t like this place, it felt unnatural and strange, chilling Caeley to her bones.
She stood up from her spot, a nice little aerial view from atop a random building; and grimaced as she placed her finger on her communicator to receive static. Section III’s tech was usually exceptional, but it must have been damaged, or something, during the teleportation process. Thankfully, the trip was void of any bumps or otherwise dangerous events, and her clothes weren’t burnt off, so there was that.
But she didn’t really know where she was. That never got her down though, even though Caeley loves information more than strawberry ice-cream (and she loves strawberry ice cream), her line of work often called for situations where information wasn’t as accessible as normal.
Caeley fell into the natural rhythm of her training, assess the situation, determine a safe-zone and a danger-zone and proceed to move on toward your objective. Hers was quite obvious; Connor. It would be lame for any other person to say that they traversed other worlds simply to be with their beloved which is why it
isn’t lame for Caeley to say it.
Her feelings for him were strong, quite in fact, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it. Some of those spooks in Section III may disagree and psychologically analyze her as emotionally unstable, but that’s fine, it isn’t like they can do anything about her feelings or her involvement in the organization. She may be a soldier, but she has enough influence and connections that rivals a general, which, may I add, is disingenuous considering there is no official army within Section III.
Section III normally dealt with Special Operations and bred Special Forces for their own uses, there was
technically an army within Sections I and II, but they were more like a… reserves. Used for mostly domestic situations, like frontline infantry against frontline infantry or even domestic terrorism. Section III was rightly reserved for the situations that the first two Sections can’t deal with.
Suicide missions, sabotage, intelligence, counter-intelligence, cyberwarfare and, Caeley’s specialty, supernatural events. You know, demons and monsters, vampires, succubi, krakons, etc, etc.
It was annoying, but she mostly did protecting jobs, making sure these monsters didn’t get out of hand but it rarely broke out into a serious skirmish.
The benefits were good too, you get dental, health, the whole nine yards.
Jumping off the roof, she landed quietly in an alley and prepared to make her way toward the street when she heard a disturbance in the universe, well, more like people yelling ten feet in front of her.
Approaching them silently, she noticed they were just a few idiotic gang members messing with a local vendor of this weird ice-cream. They were aggravated that this man hadn’t made his payments for their “protection”.
So depressingly clichéd.
“It’d be a shame if your cart got messed up,” the leader sneered, knocking over the sign as the other lackeys cackled.
Caeley rolled her eyes.
These morons enjoyed flaunting their “power” to intimidate poor people trying to make a living. The cockroaches in Arcadia were tougher than these chumps. Seriously, they were like 10 feet tall when the deathray hit them.
The leader raised his arm again, to smack off the ice-cream machine, but Caeley stopped him there. Grabbing his elbow as she walked up behind him. He was much taller than her, but infinitely weaker.
“Why don’t we play nice?” she wouldn’t be any better than this chump if she threw around her weight like he was doing, so, why not play the nice girl card first?
The man turned, as best as he could being partially paralyzed for fear of breaking his arm, “W-what? Get her!”
The other two chumps jumped into action. Or rather, they stumbled awkwardly into action. Moron #1 and Moron #2 pulled out their guns and took aim, but she wasn’t going to give them that much time. Raising her leg, she calmly kicked them both in the chest, not too hard and not very fast, when they were staggered she used her free hand to grab their guns.
Using only one hand, she disarmed the guns, dropping the magazines to her feet as she kicked them away.
“Little boys shouldn’t be playing with toys like these,” she said as the Moron Twins quickly pulled out batons from their pants. Oh god, that’s a disturbing thought, why were they storing those there?
She flicked her wrist, the one that held the leader in placed, and flipped the guy over, right on top of the wonder twins, crushing them all pretty quickly. They wouldn’t die, of course, it was just to stun them.
“Now, are we going to play nice? I’ll let you go if you just apologize to this man and shake hands,” Caeley advised with a smile.
But they wouldn’t give up. The leader scrambled to his feet, pulled out a small thing from his pockets, she figured it was another gun, but it was just a small firework.
Caeley’s face became into one of disbelief and despair. He pulled the string and a fireball flew into the sky, lighting it up beautifully as a Jolly Roger appeared in the night sky.
She was just so surprised at this display, that she simply
stood there with her arms crossed, gaping at these morons as dozens of men poured from the streets and into this little section and surrounded her.
“Are you
sure you can’t reconsider? I mean, I’ll still accept an apology, but if you go through with this, all of you will be bowing in repentance.” Caeley said to the entirety of the group.
Confident grins and chuckles answered her. And Caeley simply sighed, put up her hands and stepped forward, “Fine.”
It took ten seconds to detain those guys, twenty-two in total. It would’ve been faster, but Caeley had to adjust her hair in the middle of the skirmish, she wouldn’t be meeting up with Connor with messy hair after all.
She stood in front of the vendor and walked in front of the gang, arms crossed and an annoyed expression on her face, like a teacher reprimanding her class.
“Now then,” she announced to her “class”, “What do we say?”
All twenty-two guys bowed at the same time, nearly prostrate, and said, “We’re sorry!”
“And?” she coaxed them to continue.
“We won’t be gangsters anymore!” they recited perfectly.
“I’ll be a masseuse!” one of them cried.
“Good!” Caeley smiled, “Now then, go home and hug your loved ones. God knows they’re the only ones who will care for you…”
Another bow, “Thank you Miss Caeley!”
Then, like the roaches they were, they scurried away.
“If this soldier thing doesn’t work out, I could be a teacher,” she mused.
A haughty laugh, good, cover your mouth, a lady must remain humble and never bare her teeth. Octavia crinkled up her nose and giggled some more as the man went on and on about his problems with his butler. She, of course, hadn’t cared for his problems, but, as a lady, she must remain diligent and listen to everything.
“You are such a darling!” his wife drawled out in that insufferable accent of hers.
Octavia smiled gracefully and averted her eyes for a brief second to paint the image that she was a shy, dainty woman, “Ah, why thank you. You and your Lordship have been pleasant company as well,” she responded perfectly in her aristocratic accent.
Her accent was probably the only thing that was real about her at the moment. Octavia stood, in perfect form, as a mature, well-endowed woman of 20 rather than her lankly youthful self. Bosom and hip enhancers were added, of course, to play the part as her underdeveloped body would never pull off this disguise. Her hair was of a chocolaty brunette in contrast to her honey-blonde color, a wig, obviously. It was done up excellently, yet produced a fringe that covered her forehead, a lady mustn’t show a prominent forehead after all. She wore a Victorian-styled red and white dress that hide her stick-like figure well and worked to enhance it from underneath. On her person, however, she held secret weapons.
Her knives were pushed down her bosom and into her corset (not properly set to prevent her from crushing her lungs and asphyxiating) and a few more knives in her sleeves in case something were to happen quickly and she needed to react fast.
Make-up was applied, slightly rosy cheeks, eyeliner, lipstick, everything she loathed. It was an onerous process, but Octavia needed to learn the ins and outs of fashion and make-up quickly to get into the business she now excels in; apparently, she isn’t an Autumn, go figure.
And, as mentioned, her accent is the only thing real about her at this point. She did grow up in a nice, comfy lifestyle and had learned her accent through time, it was the stereotypical high society accent and she hated it. It was good for disguise, but she preferred her native Italian accent (though, she sucked it).
She took one glance at the Lord and his cackling wife and quietly assessed them.
The Lord was a banker, made his money in plenty of investments, though none that seem reputable, obvious too easy in fact, he has a button pinned to his suit from a bank, but underneath she could see there were numerous papers in his inner pocket. He is incredibly inactive, you'd think he lived a sedentary life. The most he has lifted would probably be a golf club judging by his weak wrists. He has a brother and a younger sister who has tried her hand at sewing, failing quite miserably as indicted by his poorly done shirt pockets. He's been married to his wife for more than ten years, but the marriage is going down the drain and judging by the condition of their rings, it is safe to bet that these two have multiple lovers.
The woman was easier, she was absurdly superficial. She came from a poor family, where she had to work and toil to earn her way. Her father was probably a farmer or some type of hard laborer. But when she was of age, she went into acting, probably modeling, and earned the attention of his now-husband, judging by the condition of her face. Constantly remodeled to look perfect but now it was disturbing to look at, it was like her skin was pulled back across her face. She doesn't get along with her mother, probably because of her life decisions, and is closer to her elder sister. Easy to indicate, stress lines on her forehead appeared whenever family was mentioned, but her shoes were too big and slightly worn out, probably from a sister, no lady would borrow the shoe of another lady only if they are related.
Her skills were getting a little better, she was getting faster in her deductions and, thankfully, more accurate. It allowed her to befriend people easier if need be, gaining enemies was something a lady simply didn't do.
“I say, where did you say you were from again?” the Lord asked.
Octavia briefly panicked, it was so hard to remember an alias under pressure, not that it may be necessary now that she’s on a different world, but who knows, maybe some people would be looking for a strange girl named after an old Roman dude.
“Uptown,” she answered automatically, “My family owns a mining corporation along the way.”
She wasn’t Octavia Romano, no, indeed she was Ivy Montgomery, the daughter of Elizabeth and Louis Montgomery, the big oil tycoon. Lies, of course, but it sold fairly well, either these people were ignorant to the happenstance of their
own world, or she was a good liar.
Octavia likes to think it is the latter.
The Lord laughed, “Ah, yes, of course! Shame I wouldn’t have the chance to meet your parents.”
“Of course,” she laughed along with him, “Mother is dreadfully ill and father is far too busy, I am here attending in his place.”
Her time spent here wouldn’t be in vain. She wasn’t charming the socialites for nothing, she figured out several things.
This was Radiant Garden, a world far from her own.
And that this shrimp was severely undercooked.
Okay, okay, I know, but it’s hard gaining information when you have to suffer through these annoying shoes!
“Ah, if you will excuse me,” Octavia muttered quietly. A lady must never explained that she is going to the bathroom, so uncouth! Excusing herself, she gracefully walked out of the “party” and up the stairs.
Maybe she’ll learn more if she does a little recon.