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ʜᴀʟ ❖ ᴄʏᴏn - Closed

In war, all soldiers are soldiers of peace, of prosperity, of paradise.......

Tags: action, crime, dark fantasy, urban

Character Approval: Yes

Player Level: Advanced

New Players: Closed

Creator: joonsexual

Created: 01-17-2013, 02:38 AM

 

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Game Log in M-2: ALL DOLLED UP

Agent Acaelus Trusz Muir (Lead), Agent Wen-Jian Song, Agent Locke Narrin, Agent Kanon Masami



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    TEAM ASSIGNED: AGENT TRUSZ MUIR






    "The situation is spiraling out of hand and, if this keeps up, it'll be unsafe for all women. The police are, as usual, ineffectual at providing aid."— [MADAM FUJI NO MIYA]

    OBJECTIVE: Please locate and apprehend the culprit.


    LOCATION: KYOTO, JAPAN. DISTRICT-PRIME
    WEATHER: LIGHT BREEZE / SUNNY
    TEMPERATURE: 18C / 65F

    DATE / TIME: 7 APRIL 5614 / 0900


    SETTING: Kyoto District-Prime is a beautiful slice of traditional architecture, artistically arranged greenery, and elegant kimonos. The touch of culture is rich and powerful, strong and proud. While the rest of the world fell to the temptation of ever-better, ever-convenient technology, Kyoto-Prime has remained a hallmark of preservation.

    INTELLIGENCE: According to Madam Fuji No Miya, thirteen employees have disappeared and, recently, one of them has turned up dead in an alleyway. The girl was badly beaten and bruised. She was stabbed forty-six times.

    Further intelligence reveals that there have been several similar incidences (a total of seventeen). The examiner's report reveals that all of the victims were held for a period of time (a minimum of one week, but no more than two weeks) and starved. Preliminary reports suggest that the targets are women between the ages of sixteen to twenty and employed at entertainment facilities.


    THREAT LEVEL: RANK C-1

    MISC DETAILS: Please meet with Madam Fuji No Miya for further details!

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    PRESENT (0900)
    @ HANA NO UCHI ; CEREMONY ROOM HARU

    There were no chairs, no pillows—nothing to indicate where to sit or how to sit. And their host—a beautiful woman dressed in a kimono that was easily twice her size, but no less beautiful—sensing the unspoken confusion, politely said, "You may sit or kneel on the floor. You do not have to worry about formalities."

    With a smile fixed to her features, the brunette knelt beside a large, clay bowl and several other mismatched objects. The astute—or the historically well-versed—would have known it was a tea set, but that information is neither here nor there.

    "I am honored that you have agreed to help." She was tall—much taller than in the pictures. In fact, she was only a few inches shorter than Acaelus. "I am sure that you have already been informed of the unique situation." She paused as she looked at the agents; her lips pursing slightly at some unshared observation. But as quickly as the expression appeared, it was filtered away. Just as the agents were the expert of their craft, she was a well-practiced, well-learned entertainer. "But, just as a reminder, we do not involve the police in this matter.

    "I ask that you employ a high level of discretion."

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    Locke found himself about the same height as the woman who had walked in and knelt. He himself then sat down on the ground, the uniform's pants riding up out of his boot. He pulled his leg forward some to pull down on it and then shove it back into the boot with a sight pout on his lips. Not only that, but his entire uniform feeling absolutely constricting. He yearned to pull off his jacket, but to do so in front of such a highly ranked woman would be considered inappropriate- or would it? Locke questioned this, but in the end, he decided not to take anything off.

    "Working in our uniforms would not be preferred, correct? Would you rather us blend in?" he asked, finding discression to be something that he may enjoy. Anthing had to be more comfortable than the uniform he was wearing.

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    PRESENT (0903)
    @ HANA NO UCHI ; CEREMONY ROOM HARU

    She watched with a guarded expression; her thoughts shielded from all unwanted attention. Even though she had been the one to invite their help, her attitude was cold and uninviting. She didn't trust them.

    "I want the matter to be handled quickly and quietly," she answered, her words a careful composition of thought and limits. "The staff—excluding those who went to greet you—is not aware of your involvement and I would like to keep it that way." Her eyes flickered to the side, catching the silent gaze of her attendant, who had been keeping watch by the sliding doors.

    "Takashi"—the man nodded in acknowledgment, his rigid stance relaxing slightly at his name—"will you go fetch the preparation boxes? Makoto said he had arranged for them in the Sun Room."

    With the man gone, the brunette's attention was, once again, seated on the agents. "You will pose as newly hired staff. But"—again, her lips pursed with dissatisfaction—"I was misinformed about the team composition. I only have one male uniform."


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    Kanon had followed after Locke in a quiet manner, observing everything around her. Their employer, a Madam Fuji no Miya, stood in the center of the room, her features akin to that of a porcelain doll. Kanon knelt on the ground as she had been instructed, and listened to the requirements of Madam Fuji.

    An obvious problem emerged as the conversation between Locke and the other went on- apparently, there was only one uniform that was of the male origin. "Ah," the female spoke, "Then two males will be dressing as females tonight?" The teal haired woman thought for a moment, "I propose that Wen and Locke should crossdress; they seem able to pass as women."

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    There was an immediate swell of a sweet and spicy cadence to the room they entered, escorted by the Madam Fuji and flanked by her assistant. He fled to the shadows of the space once the woman in red turned to face them directly. As suggested, Acaelus knelt to the floor, padded and unfamiliar under his weight.

    Acaelus studied the woman at the center of the room and frowned when she began to take course with her objectives for the mission. Acaelus nodded in understanding and breathed in, waiting for some twist in the deal.

    They must play the role of workers. Acaelus gaze swept to his team; it was clear that they would be able to pull that off with no problem at all. They were sufficient candidates for the type of establishment that Madam Fuji ran. Definitely attractive enough.

    That seemed to be it, until the tall man—Takashi—Madam Fuji had moments before dismissed to fetch something, swept gracefully back into the space. A stack of two laquered boxes were levelled in his grasp, and behind him he was followed by the man they hadn't previously been introduced to. He—Makoto, Acaelus guessed—was shorter than his cohorts, with long dark hair drawn together with a black ribbon and a slight limp in his gait. Nothing particularly special about the two, but they were obviously close to the Madam; they had to be, considering she had just finished telling the team that their presence there was under a strict need-to-know basis.

    While the men presented the boxes in a fashion that showed they had already guessed who would be sporting each outfit, Madam Fuji's words struck Acaelus and his eyes snapped from the boxes to the woman in question, his expression incredulous.

    Kanon was quick to speak and Acaelus nearly spit out a laugh. But he swallowed the mirth and glanced to the other males in his team. Raising an eyebrow he considered her proposal for a moment and finally hummed in agreement. They each could pull off such attire. While Acaelus, definitely could not. “I agree. Wen,” Acaelus eyed the man and then glanced to Locke, who seemed far to comfortable with the notion, “Locke, are you prepared to get a little fancy for the good of this mission?”

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    "I propose that Wen and Locke should cross dress; they seem able to pass as women."

    What?

    "I agree. Wen"—there was a pause, an unreadable expression—"Locke, are you prepared to get a little fancy for the good of this mission?"

    "Wait," it was then that the blond decided to speak up; his hands held up in protest. "But I think we shouldn't be so hasty with our decision." There was a certain steeliness to his voice, an edge that said he wasn't going to go down so easily. "Who knows? Some people might enjoy the company of, ah"—he stalled for a second; his eyes looking over the brunette—"of his stature." He finished lamely.

    Even he could tell how ridiculous he sounded. There was no way Acaelus could pass for female, but, at the same time, Wen had his pride too. "How about we play for it?" He gestured to the brunette, hands forming in the all-too familiar sport of: rock-paper-scissor.

    "Winner picks."

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    "Wait! What?" Locke was rather shocked at the idea that he would have to cross-dress. Of course, the idea wasn't a new one to him. He knew that wasn't the manliest man around. And it didn't help that his best friend outside of work was a cross-dresser, and occasionally, things would happen where Locke would end up in a skirt as well.

    But for work? In a professional setting?

    By all means, Locke did not mind having to wear a female's uniform. It was only the fact that pictures or some kind of evidence that he did so willingly would be spread around. The redhead did not take kindly to things that would look badly on his behalf- even if he didn't think it as bad.

    But still, Locke said nothing that would make it seem as if he did mind having to dress as a woman. He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to find the right words.

    "If it is for the good of the mission, I will do it." he said simply. He then turned to Madame Fuji No Mya with a nod and then back at his lap. He didn't care for Wen and his current antics. Locke had the feeling- no he hoped- that God's Gift to Humanity would lose. As much as Acaelus was a handsome man, there was no way that he was going to be able to pull off any kind of feminine clothing.

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    Acaelus gazed at Wen with a veil of incredulity and exasperation. Was the other man actually insinuating that they were to play a preschool game in the middle of a mission? In the presence of the client?

    With a huff of a breath and a small shake of his head Acaelus turned from the blonde man as he regarded Madam Fuji with an apologetic expression etched into his features before he spoke finally, coming to a decision in silence, "Agent Wen will be wearing the last uniform you have provided," his blue eyes, glazing brightly in the elegant lamplight, shifted back to his Agent and leveled him with a hard stare, "You will be wearing the female uniform, Wen."

    Clenching his jaw slightly, Acaelus glanced to Locke and nodded in acknowledgement and thanks. In front of where his team sat, the taller attendant leaned to rearrange the boxes when there was finality in Acaelus' tone. The container that was previously situated in front of Acaelus was shifted to sit in front of Wen instead and the other replaced it.

    "Madam, would there be any other instruction that is vital before we commence the investigation?" Acaelus asked and let his eyes catch hers.

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    Wen, contrary to popular belief, was not an idiot.

    He knew that the chances of him not playing the female part were about as good as getting struck by a meteor right then and there. He also knew that he was on thin ice with just about everyone on his team, which, surprisingly, stung a little.

    "Well, I suppose if you put it like that." And because Wen could never let another man have the last word in anything, he added, "Plus, I know that you're just dying to see me in a dress."

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    PRESENT (0910)
    @ HANA NO UCHI ; CEREMONY ROOM HARU

    While the agents slowly came to terms with their newfound and mostly unwanted positions, the brunette only watched with silent disapproval. The more she saw and heard of them, the more she found them unlikable.

    Particularly the blond.

    "Madam, would there be any other instruction that is vital before we commence the investigation?"

    Taking her eyes off the needlessly showy man, the brunette nodded in answer to the question. "You will not be allowed to stay in the same room. The girls"—dark eyes, the color of spilled ink, glanced over the remaining three faces—"will be staying in the annex. You will be living elsewhere."

    With only a single glance at Makoto and Takashi, the two men nodded in some unspoken understanding. "If you will excuse me, I have a prior engagement to attend to. Apologies."

    As she left the room, her motions swift and graceful, the two men came to stand before the still-seated agents.

    "We will help you prepare."


    INSTRUCTIONS: The next scene should begin with all the characters appropriately dressed and situated. Also, the investigation will have "officially" begun. You guys are free to move about the compound as you see fit. There is no need to wait for me to change scenes/locations. All I ask is that you allow ME to control the NPCs.

    HERE IS A MAP OF THE COMPOUND!


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    Out of the three, Locke seemed to be the most excited to get the uniform on. However, when he was done being dressed, he found himself even more miserable than before. Everything was tight in all the wrong places and he couldn't sit the way that he really wanted to. Movement was extremely constricted and with all the layers, he was much warmer than he was in his previous uniform. On top of all of that, he felt the uncontrollable urge to punch himself in the face.

    Why would I EVER want to wear something like this? He shook his head and a hair pin on the side jingled, the glass and metal bead strands hitting against each other. Each bead had a distinct difference in it, with either a variable kind of flower painted on it, or a different size. When they were fixing his hair and make-up -whenever his eyes weren't closed- that hair pin was in his face, and he was given time to get to know it personally. In the hour or so that he was able to stare at it, he grew rather fond of it, and knew that he would have to get one for himself once he left the compound.

    Maybe get one for Alarick too. His inner voice joked. He offered a light chuckle before being told to stand up. He did so, and Makoto led him unsteadily to a full-length mirror.

    After actually looking at himself, Locke didn't recognize the figure in the glass. In fact, he was stunned enough that he was waiting for whoever he saw to move out of the way. It took a moment before he realized that it was himself, and it made him gasp.

    The kimono was made out of a deep emerald green silk with an elaborate floral design in pinks, reds and lighter greens that seemed to contrast so well with his hair that he wound himself cursing at himself for not thinking of that color combination sooner. He didn't like making his brilliant crimson hair the focal point of an outfit, but this was absolutely beautiful. His eyes than traveled to find even more things to notice, like the red under layers of fabrics, an almost perfect match to his hair that played up the contrast even more.

    But then he saw his face. He grimaced at the increased paleness of his skin and the bright red on his lips. The feeling of having a second skin was growing even more noticeable and itchy. The urge to punch himself faded into one of the need to scratch at his face, but even he knew that that was unladylike.

    He turned away from the mirror to watch the other two getting ready. It was a rather long process, but the two men seemed to know well what they were doing. His expression was one of boredom, but slowly the edges of his lips turned up.

    "You look even prettier than you did when I first met you, Wen." His voice broke his silence, as he hadn't spoken since the assistants had moved in on getting him ready.

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    "You look even prettier than you did when I first met you, Wen."

    At the compliment, the blond flashed the redhead a smug smile. "Are you going to buy me a drink with that compliment?"

    He even sealed his words with a flirtatious wink, a gesture that seemed oddly practiced.

    It was hard to believe that, only a short while earlier, the blond had been adamantly opposed to the idea, vehemently refusing to cooperate. It was hard to believe that the blond, now admiring himself before the full-length mirror, twisting and turning his body into flattering poses, was the same agent who proposed rock-paper-scissors as a means of not dressing up.

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    Though the appearances of the three agents had all changed significantly, the entire atmosphere around Kanon had completely turned itself over. The cold and professional aura that the teal haired woman had previously channeled had transformed itself into something that had never been seen before; at least not from Kanon.

    Her hair, usually tied in twin tails, had been pinned up, twisted around so that two loose curls hung down elegantly on either side of her face, while a pair of hairpins accentuated and held together the whole hair style.

    The kimono that Kanon wore suited her slim shape very well. It was a pale orange color, with scarlet, gold, and green details that shimmered as she moved, almost like a soft candle’s flame.

    Her face, though pale as the others, seemed less frigid, and had a softer, more innocent look; a better reflection of the mere twenty three years she’d been living. However, her eyes were the same--- cold, harsh, and altogether, business-like, same as usual.

    Kanon turned towards the other two, who had exchanged a few words a moment or two ago. Wen was now playing the model, and adjusting to a new pose every few seconds, and Locke- well, he was doing whatever Locke was doing. She bit her lip. It wasn’t time for modeling in front of mirrors, it was time to investigate. ”Let’s get to work.”

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    "Let's get to work."

    At her words, Wen tore his eyes away from his reflection, which proved more difficult than normal, and gave his attention to her.

    "So serious," he said, shaking his head at her stiffness. "You need to relax. Investigations are not a game of speed to the end. They're about careful observations," he explained wisely; his expression a muted display of sage-like knowledge.

    "But it would do you good to start," Takashi added. His expression was stern and the frown pulling at the corner of his lips suggested he was nonplussed by the events. "The sooner you finish your job, the sooner we can go back to our actual duties."

    And while Takashi spoke, Makoto helped Wen readjust his obi--pulling it higher and tightening the bow. He smiled at the taller man's words, but kept his thoughts to himself.

    "The house is closed to customers today. Please feel free to look around"--he paused, glanced at Makoto--"Do not access the restricted areas. Those are the Madam's private space."

    "Alright, alright," Wen surrendered as Makoto gave the bow a final tug. "We'll get started. So... who wants to do what?"


    THE TIME IS NOW 9:28 AM.

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    The bit bit of wisdom that Wen had given was rather uncharacteristic of him, or, at least so in the eyes of Locke. He had only seen the playful and terribly flirty side so far. Shaking off the sudden urge to find out what else the blond had up his sleeve, Locke stepped up to the plate to suggest something.

    "I believe we should talk to some of the employees here about the thirteen disappearances. After we talk to Acaelus, I mean. We should get a collection of what we know so far, and then go talk to the employees." He pursed his lips to make himself stop talking. Oddly enough, the redhead was starting to feel very self-conscious, the idea of having to talk to others, in public, looking dressed up and looking very much like a woman. He would have put his hands in his pockets to curb this anxiousness, but he was lacking in then. Instead, he put his arms together in the sleeves, trying to find a motion equivalent, but he found that it didn't work well.

    Locke knew that he should have been prepared to do anything for his job. Often, he had to do odd things to get the mission done, and this just seemed to be the weirdest and one of the most uncomfortable he had to do.

    "If no one objects, I do believe that we should- uh... Where is Acaelus staying anyway? And could you possibly give us a tour of the facilities?" Locke turned to Takashi, curiosity dancing across his bi-colored eyes like a fire. "If we knew where we were, it would make this investigation go a lot smoother, don't you think?"

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    "Agent Trusz-Muir is at the unconnected annex," Takashi answered; his voice steely and void of any comfort. "If you need a tour, you can read the manuals"—he gestured to a stack of neatly arranged packets—"Neither Makoto or I have so much free time as to walk through the compounds."

    By now, it was obvious that Takashi, like the Madam, had little love for the agents.

    "If you'll excuse us, we will be taking our leave now." It was less of a request and more of a fact because, before any of the agents could keep two men from leaving, they were gone. But as Makoto walked through the door, he paused.

    Turning to face the agents, the shorter male said, "Momoko was Kitara's best friend. You should speak with Momoko." And, with a small nod, the man was gone.

    "Well, then," Wen started, "I don't think we should all speak to Momoko at once. We're trying to keep a low-profile, right? How about we split up?"

    It was strange how orderly and capable Wen was behaving. In fact, it was as if he was a whole different person—a whole different agent. But, before that thought could be carried out for long, the blond added, "I think Kanon and I can do a little snooping around, right?"

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    And that didn't last long. Locke sighed and let his eyebrows create a furrow. He threw a glance at Kanon, an expression that resembled a mixture of concern and a slight irritation on his face. He got the feeling that Wen would end up spending most of his time trying to flirt with the aqua-haired girl.

    "If Kanon is alright with it," The redhead brought his gaze back to Wen, the ridge his eyebrows formed had disappeared. "And only if you behave." It was like warning a child or an unruly teenager, and he knew full well that the advice wouldn't be heeded at all. Without Acaelus around, Locke felt like he was supposed to give out orders, like a mother would without the presence of the child's father.

    Oh, what an idea. The team was very much like a family, was it not? Acaelus was the oh-so-serious and famous father, Locke was quite a bit like the mother, Wen was the terrible flirt of an older brother, and Kanon, poor Kanon, was the obedient younger sister. He would have to tell Alarick about that later, to get his opinion on it and maybe a laugh.

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    "Behave?" Wen echoed, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. "Locke, Locke, Locke," he said in a sing-song voice; his tongue clicking in mock disapproval. "Jealousy is so unbecoming on a man. You know, I would have asked to be with you, but I don't play with other people's toys. If you know what I mean." He winked, laughing as he did so.



    THE TIME IS NOW 9:31 AM


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    Kanon didn't really understand what Locke and Wen were going on about. Something about behaving. To be honest, the female didn't mind Wen's strange approach with communication, but it seemed that Locke found it rather unsettling, from what she could gather with what he'd said.

    She waited for the banter between the two to subside before clearing her throat, "I'd be fine with investigating---" -here she threw a look at Wen, "With him."

    Kanon then gave Locke a wry smile, "I'll be fine."

    The teal haired woman could take care of herself, or at least that was what she liked to believe.

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    Locke could feel his cheeks light up, even though the white make-up covering his face hid it. He was about to make a fuss about a number of things wrong with Wen's argument, but Kanon had actually agreed to work with the blond. He forced himself to shut his mouth and push off the argument, and nodded.

    "Alright." He sighed, pushing a stray red hair out of his face. "So, we'll meet back here at," he glanced up at a clock on the wall. "Twelve seems about right." And with that, Locke walked over to the neat stacks of paper and books and sat down on the ground next to them, before pulling on into his lap and examining it.

    He flipped through the book, finding the map. He pulled out the sheet and then studdied it. Top floor? He picked up the booklet once more and flipped through it, trying to find a map of the upstairs. When he couldn't find it, he found himself rather agitated. Notes on the rules of staying in the compound, details of the various duties of employees and other information was there, but the fact that the map wasn't complete seemed to absolutely piss the redhead off.

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    "Well then, let's get going."

    With a smile on his face, the blond took Kanon's hand in his own and walked the two of them out of the room.






    The compound was large—far larger than Wen had figured. Every hallway seemed to stretch endlessly and every room seemed unnecessarily vast.

    Peering into the Winter Room, Wen said, "So, what do you think actually happened?" He didn't elaborate on his question, but it was easily understood that he was talking about the mission. "Seems pretty brutal—stabbed forty-six times."


    THE TIME IS NOW 9:51 AM.

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    "So, what do you think actually happened?"

    She'd been lost in her own thoughts when the phrase drew her out of the jumbled mess she'd been making in her mind. Kanon felt an unfamiliar feeling peeking at her from the edge of her mind. What was it, exactly? Gratefulness?

    "Seems pretty brutal—stabbed forty-six times."

    Kanon stopped to think, the gears in her brain beginning to turn themselves. "Well," the woman mused, "Forty six times seems to be a tad much, even for a serial killer. Then again, they may be psychotic, and have provided to themselves a reason as to why they needed to stab the woman more than ten times. Perhaps she struggled too much and in a fit of rage, the killer stabbed her more times than he should have..."

    She nodded to herself, her voice seeming more and more distant every moment she spoke, as if she was putting herself into the place of the killer, deciphering each and every move as if it was a simple puzzle, "Or, perhaps there was a grudge..."

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    As Kanon detailed possibilities, Wen stood and listened; his back against the room.

    To most, Wen looked haphazard and carless in his investigative methods. He had only surveyed the space with his eyes before writing it off as a point of non-interest.

    "Kanon, there was nothing in the report about a serial killer." The blond, a head taller than the teal-haired girl, snaked an arm around her waist and, as easily as he had led her down the first corridor, walked her to the next room. "It's easy to jump to that conclusion, but you can't assume anything in this line of work."

    It was odd—almost surreal—as Wen spoke easily about the finer aspects of detective work. For once, the blond was performing the duties of a senior agent—a veteran with a wealth of experience.

    "For instance, I might look like a girl, but I'm still a man."

    One second, they were walking down the corridor and, in the next, Wen had Kanon pinned against the wall—his body against hers. His face was less than an inch away from hers when he whispered, "Even if I look like a girl right now, I'm not."


    THE TIME IS NOW 9:58


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    She was about to swat his hand off of her waist when she found herself pinned to the wall in a flash.

    ...Shit.

    The sudden turn of events had sent Kanon's brain spinning; it scrambled for the answer to the millions of questions the woman had running around in her brain. What exactly was happening? Why was Wen doing this? Shouldn't they be concentrating on the mission?

    However, something about the man- whether it may be the minuscule distance his face was from hers, or the sultry tone his whispered voice had, it brought a slight flush to her cheeks, and a shiver ran up her spine.

    "I....uhm..." Kanon felt herself at a loss for words as her stomach fluttered- a feeling that was so uncommon to her that she simply forgot what she was going to say, "W-wen...I..."

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    ((Mistake post, sorry!))

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    As Kanon stumbled over her words, Wen brought a hand to her face. His fingers trailed from he cheeks to her jawline; his touch tantalizingly slow. He traced the smoothness of her skin to the firmness of her bone, stopping only when he cusped her chin.

    They were close enough that Wen could feel her breath ghost against his skin—close enough that he could see the dilation of her pupils, the darkness of her eyes.

    He could see everything in brilliant clarity: the lashes that framed her eyes, the faint lines that moved across her face with every expression she made. He could see all the little details; he was so close that personal space vanished in his presence.


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    "W-wen..." she managed to stammer, "I..uhm...th-think..."

    She couldn't finish her sentence; he was too close. Kanon's breath caught in her throat, and her mind refused to believe that she was responding to his touch- after all, why should she?

    However, this was the one weakness that Kanon had accumulated over her years of hard work and training; she had forgotten to love, forgotten the physical attraction that it encompassed, and she had forgotten how to respond.

    She managed to turn her attention from her mind to Wen, and instantly regretted it. His eyes were a shocking blue, and she instantly averted her gaze.

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    His smile was different from the ones he had shown before; the ones that were sunshine and brilliance, cordial and friendly. The smile he wore now was darker, more predatory—more dangerous.

    And, without any warning, he pressed his lips against hers.



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    Shivers traveled up and down her spine as she realized what the male had done.

    I...I...shit...

    Kanon's mind spun as she attempted to grasp the situation at hand. Wen was warm, and his lips coaxed her in a way that Kanon was not familiar with. She attempted to push against the male, but to no avail; she was simply far too taken by the physical contact that she could not muster enough strength to truly resist.

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