[ARC 5.5: HELL OF AN ACT]

Julia's protege, Markus, was one of the few at Urasaria who declined living with their mentor. She seemed to offload all of her loathing of other people on to him, and he put up with it for the most part, because he found the red-haired asshole amusing. So far as it came to mentorship, she dedicated as much to him as she did her poetry - in matters of art she was intolerable.

Julia sat in her home leaning over her notebook, pencil in hand. She muttered off a few phrases to herself, noting aloud if they were mediocre images or cliches. Eventually, she nodded and wrote down her next line. "Somewhere outside a bowl of opening roses made majestic by a slice of sun."

Markus lifted his head up, sitting in the chair across the room. "Muse not coming to you today? You know, I read some quote online that said if you have trouble writing for the day, lower your standards."

"It was W-William Stafford." she muttered. "And given how he was as a poet, I prefer to be more proactive in these matters."

Why Markus thought he could give her advice on art, she never understood; he was always handing her his mediocre verse, asking for criticism that he would take none to mind.

"I'm just saying, you seem to stress yourself out a lot." said Markus. "Sometimes I think you don't even enjoy it."

Julia closed her notebook. "It's either this or ketamine. I'm a host, I can handle a few stress ulcers."

"Probably not a good job to get in to if you've got such bad anxiety." he said. "Why did you sign up, anyway? For Urasaria."

"Why did I sign up?"

"I know that I thought it'd be… well. I thought it would be good representation for the rest of the community, you know. Everyone thinks students are just a bunch of lesbians running around decapitating people, but I thought that, if I could set a good example -"

" - I j-joined because, because I had superpowers." coughed Julia.

"That's it?"

Julia laughed. "What - what do you expect me to say? When I was fourteen I dreamed to emb-bark on a career of electrocuting miscreants? I-If I wanted that, I-I could've just applied to be the guy who gets to pull the lever."

"And I bet you were always a bit jealous of him, knowing you."

Julia sighed. "I-I invite you over to my home, and this is what I get from you. What's bothering you? Are you still upset over what I said about the last poem you wrote?"

Markus shrugged. "Julia, we've been having the same conversation all year. I know we have a fundamental difference when it comes to that. You think that anything that has any real relevance to the world today is cliched, or whatever word you use for it. I'm not saying I don't think you're a good poet, I just don't see why you have to act like your opinion is so objective."

Julia coughed, patting her pocket. "First off, I-I never say I'm objective, I can just let history judge my taste in art. Second, you'll excuse me for being a bit ups-upset finding out that I've been mentoring the type of person who writes poetry so they can tell people to stop killing the whales."

"If I wanted people to stop killing the whales, I'd write them in Japanese. I just think the gay community is very oppressed right now. Just because we're - lesbians, at least - part of the state doesn't mean we've progressed any further than fifty years ago."

"You c-can't be serious." she muttered. "God, listen to yourself sometimes."

"I am serious."

Julia laughed. "If -- if you told everyone at Stonewall that in fifty years people would have a -- a device in their pocket to call a dyke to kill somebody, t-they'd think they threw too many bricks."

"You know what I'm saying. I know you don't think much of it, but there is a community."

"Yeah, and t-the problem is you think that just because something's important to you that it's important in the grand scheme of things. I read your crap about how pure gay romance is."

"Aren't you writing a poem about Rilke?"

"That's different." muttered Julia. "Rilke's important."

"Yeah, so important that you're the only person I've ever met who's heard about him. What's the point of creating art if you're not trying to change something about the world? It sounds like you're the one doing the masturbation more than me."

Julia laughed. "Don't try to one-up me in masturbation, it would be like going against Ein-s-stein in physics." She glanced at her notebook, then reopened it, frowning as she couldn't think of her next line.

◆◆◆

Standing in her kitchen, Mia set the filled tortillas in to the casserole dish. She layered cheese over the top, and smiled as scarabs crawled over her food. "Worldwide."

It burnt to ash.

She frowned, then sighed as she checked their fridge. Marisa came out of her room, saying she had smelled something burning.

Mia sighed. "I'm trying to find out if I can cook using Worldwide."

Marisa glanced over the burnt enchiladas. "How's that going?"

"This is my fourth attempt." she muttered.

"Uh, you're the one who's gonna have to pay for that, then." chimed Marisa. "Did you use all the cheese?"

Mia glanced to the bag on the counter: she still had a fifth try. "I'll ask Saya to refill it."

"Sounds good. Uh, I wanted to talk to you about, like -- I was thinking about something." said Marisa. "So, you're gonna be a mentor in like, late August, and… I know we tried this on our last contract, but - from now on, when we're fighting, I want you to give me orders. Like, I'll still keep myself safe, but I want you to get used to that, right?"

Mia nervously nodded as her phone vibrated.

(Aimee) "hey

(Aimee) "mentioned you and Marisa specifically"

Mia's eyes rolled over to her burnt Mexican, sighing as she texted back.

(Mia) "We'll be there in a few minutes."

She set out a pot of water and boiled it for tea: at least she succeeded *there*. After drinking, she called over Marisa and the two visited the Council of Four's office.

Mia kissed Aimee before they sat down. "You said someone asked for us?"

"Yep." said Aimee. "Two students asking for Marisa. Said they were having trouble healing from all the Revenants they're dealing with on their, uh, current investigation." (Boudoir's bandages had developed some minor healing over the past month.)

"Who did?" said Marisa.

"Julia and Markus."

"…er, who's Julia?" said Mia and Marisa shrugged.

"You know how there's just, like, people who nothing good ever seems to happen to them? Julia's like that."

"Redhead, smokes a lot. She's a second-year, but she just keeps to herself." said Aimee. "Doesn't seem to like her protege much, but, uh, y'know. Didn't like my protege much either."

"Who was your protege?" said Marisa and Mia smiled.

"It was Makoto, correct? By special request?"

Aimee nodded.

"Do you like her now?" said Marisa.

Aimee glanced down at her tablet. "Anyway, uh, tried to ask them more about it, but that's all they said. No clue why they're even out in Chicago, either."

"Wait, didn't you assign it to them?" said Marisa and Aimee shook her head.

"Nope. Some FBI agent came in and asked me to give them two students. I told them Julia and Markus, and they just… weren't here the next day." Aimee shrugged. "You'll have to ask them what they're doing, I guess."

"Great." muttered Mia. Despite her job, she had no trust of alphabet agencies; she knew enough history for that.

◆◆◆

Checking the paper Markus had just handed to her at her hotel desk, Julia looked over to him. "You're kidding me with this."

"What's the problem?"

"I- there comes a certain point when if I-I haven't gotten through to you what's wrong with it, you'll never know." Julia cleared her throat before reading. "'I am not sick, I am not confused, I am not a sin. I have become stuck to the shining ideal of the men I love most the world, and in doing so, found something more of myself.'"

Markus mused a while. "What's the problem?"

"Oy vey." she muttered. "You know, it's - it's never a good sign when any poem starts with 'I'. It's always the d-damn author, that's who 'I' is."

"Am I not supposed to write from my own experiences? You were the one who told me all art comes from observation."

"Yeah, and you clearly need a wider set of eyes. I gotta go smoke." she said, sighing as she stood up and left.

As Markus picked up his poem, what stuck with him of this conversation wasn't Julia's criticism; he was used to her cynicism anyhow. He thought it odd that she had said 'oy vey': whenever her Judaism came up, she seemed to react with self-loathing, even anger. This vaguely confused him; he thought every minority should be proud of their oppression.

When she came back inside, she muttered one of his lines to his poem, and said: "It's c-crap. I'm not t-trying to hurt you, I'm being honest with you because there's very few people who are gonna be, and the people who are wind up like me. A miserable misanthrope."

"And one with lung cancer." he said, gesturing to her pocket. "I mean, jesus, those can't be good for you."

"What, you're - you're scared I'm not gonna make it to 200?" she laughed. "I-I'll get two iron lungs."

He frowned. "I'm not sure that-"

- the door knocked, and Marisa's voice followed. "Lavender Menace!"

Julia opened the door and the prodigal pair stepped inside.

"Hey." said Marisa, handing them a pack of Boudoir-bandages. Julia applied them as they sat down. "I'm Marisa, and this is my protege Mia."

Julia nodded as she looked to Mia. "I remember you, yeah. You, um, every Wednesday - right? Going in to visit someone in prison? I-I was assigned to guard, and there was always that old doofus I'd piss off?"

"…er, I don't remember you." chimed Mia, a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Julia just coughed in to her sleeve. Occurrences like this weren't uncommon for her; her view of people tended to be as if she was riding in the passenger seat, trying to point out landmarks to drivers who didn't see them until they were too out of eyeshot.

"I hope you remember me, at least." said Markus and Mia laughed: more courteously than anything.

Besides Samuel, Markus was the only man at Urasaria who mostly interacted with its women, and this had given him a firm sense of defensiveness when it came to them. If you were about to tell an offensive joke or refer to a woman with certain four or five letter-words, he was usually there ready to argue your head off about it. Mia sometimes wondered how he would have reacted to Makoto.

She still wouldn't have ever chosen to be a gay man at Urasaria; for every Samuel, there were a dozen men who would've been cops otherwise, and Revenants' homosexualization did not apply to men. Still, most admit he was a decent person: if not a fun one.

Marisa & Mia sat down with the two, and Marisa asked if they could say what they were investigating. Markus started to speak up, but frowned as Julia began blabbing about it anyway. "We're investigating the mafia."

"You know, we should ask that agent before we say anything else." said Markus. "I doubt he would appreciate us revealing that."

Julia shrugged. "He'll get over it. Anyway, a-as I was saying, we're investigating the mafia. Or the… Revenant part of it, anyway."

"The Revenant part of it?" said Marisa.

Julia explained that Revenants had changed organized crime. With trained civilian hitmen no longer needed to wipe out another family, and, while the bosses of most outfits were usually hosts themselves, this had led to a code that kept civilian & hosts matters strictly separate.

Similarly, the FBI was currently finishing an investigation in this state, and had asked Julia & Markus to find any information on the Revenant side, while they handled civilian prosecution. Remembering something she'd heard from a documentary, Mia asked if the mafia would still attack Urasaria students, as there were usually norms against attacking state authorities: to which Julia replied she had saved Markus's life in a surprise attack. As with any code, this was frequently broken by the type of men who would kill someone for looking enviously at their girlfriend, and exploited by those who beat men to death over $10 of debt.

Glad they weren't solely useful for their legal immunity here, Marisa nodded. "Any leads?"

"We were going to m-meet with some strip club owner tonight." Julia gestured to her still-unhealed wounds and Marisa nodded, letting her know her & Mia would handle it. "He said t-that he had something for us."

"Just a disgusting place." said Markus. "That something like that even exists. I mean, haven't we outgrown that by now?"

Julia shrugged. "There's always a m-market for losers. It w-was going to be in an hour, I'll give you the address."

"Sounds good."

Marisa dropped off another pack of Boudoir-bandages, then set out with Mia. As Markus looked over to Julia, he was slightly surprised that her eye wasn't where he had expected it; he thought there was some lecherousness in her.

"I'm surprised you didn't say anything about her dress." said Markus. "It's the lesbian pride colors, you know."

Julia shrugged. "She can wear what she likes."

Much as Markus disliked Julia, he'd admit one good quality in her - he always knew where she stood on something. "Her protege's a pretty tall woman. Almost thought it was the other way around at first."

"I had enough of women taller than me with highschool basketball." coughed Julia. "Not that I-I have much choice."

"In sports?"

"No, in dating."

"I'm surprised you dated anyone in highschool."

Julia nodded. "O-Once. You know, we - we got to the part where she asks me to spread her legs and it sounded like a fortune cookie breaking."

A few minutes later, Marisa & Mia crossed a busy Chicago avenue on their way to the address Julia texted them.

"Alright, Ms. Mentor." said Marisa. "If we run in to a Revenant, just stay calm and tell me what to do. Right?"

Mia nervously nodded. "Er, are you sure we should do it on this contract? They… may be more experienced."

"No getting out of this." winked Marisa. "You'll do fine, c'mon. Like, these guys are just gonna be regular criminals, I bet."

"But organized." Mia frowned.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make them that much more dangerous." shrugged Marisa. "They're not superhuman. Or, uh, I mean -- you know what I mean."

Mia shrugged. Like most, her view of the mafia tended to be distorted by the mythic figures of The Godfather films or the goombahs of Martin Scorcese. Neither were fully true; organized crime was far more akin to a corporate boardroom with more violence.

An hour later, they reached the abandoned factory. As they walked up to it, they watched as a car matching the description Julia gave them pulled in to the lot in front of it. They walked up to it and saw a bald man driving it, whose window lowered as he saw Marisa.

"The two you were going to meet with are injured." said Mia. "And instead, you have us."

He nodded, but his eyes were only below Marisa's waist. "That suits me just fine. Jeez, though. You ever consider getting out of policing and in to some place, ah, better suited for those two talents of -"

- a Boudoir-bullet entered his gas tank and soaked all the gasoline out.

"Enjoy walking home." chimed Marisa. "We're Urasaria students. Get to it."

"The next one is going in your skull." nodded Mia, grinning a little. "What information do you have?"

His head slumped on to the wheel. "…god, this ain't the first time that's happened, either." He looked over to them. "I'm up to my neck in gambling debt. Every time I get out of it, I just -- I don't know if I'm cursed or something. My last little outing, I get these two jagoffs coming up to me. People I've borrowed from before. They got me to sign over my fucking business, and they tell me if I wanna get it back, in - in no uncertain terms, believe me, that I gotta kill this Chinese bookie." he said, and in the next instant -

- the two women dodged underneath a yellow bead thrown from behind -

- and it splattered as it hit the ground, already spreading as the two stepped back & turned to face the factory's entrance -

- and saw their masked foe standing near it 50ft away; behind, they heard a sound like a cat stuck in a dryer -

" - nice try, dipshit!" shouted Marisa; a strand erupted from her palm -

- and pulled the driverside door out of his car trying to pull out; another strand tethered him to her back -

" - Marisa - keep him safe and run." said Mia and Marisa shot her an odd look.

"Uh, Mia, you don't get to -"

" - NOW!"

Marisa gave her a look like they'd go over this later, and ran off, tying the man to her back. This was good, Mia thought: she felt too nervous for mentorship anyway. She glanced down to where the yellow bead had hit, realizing it was opaque amber as she started stepping away from it.

"Can't be any more difficult than Matoi." she muttered reassuringly, and in the next instant -

- a street lamp beside her swung down and smashed in to her back, and as she came up wheezing & it came in for a second swing -

- a sweep of white-hot blade went through it and sliced it in half, and she grabbed one of the pieces before it could fly away -

- just in time for a geyser of water to blast it towards the man -

- but amber covered it as soon as he grabbed it, dropping it by his side as he rushed back in to the factory and slammed the door shut behind. Mia kept her eyes on the amber present as she ran up to the factory, setting an electrical swarm on to the metal door -

- and sighing as no electrocuted scream came. Stepping up to the door, she readied to open it -

- but swept right just in time to dodge the door trying to slam right in to her, revealing her foe standing 20ft away; a jet of white flame came out of her palm -

- and he shrieked like a look when it hit his chest; his back turned and Mia saw him rushing further inside the factory, but paused before she chased after him. She knew he was damaged, but was careful to be cautious.

Stepping inside, a floor of ice formed under her boots, and she picked up her speed once she knew it was safe. Assembly lines with machine arms & saws flanked her at regular intervals as she ran, pathways overhead and her foe running away 50ft ahead. A few windows were providing moonlight overhead.

His hand swept back and a swarm of beads came out of it; she didn't see all the targets it hit, but one machine arm extended & swung for her -

- but a flash of white-hot blade went through it again -

- and the bead of amber within turned her sword yellow; she cursed as she unsummoned Worldwide's blade, not wanting to know what would happen if it came back to life. White fire covering her arms, she kept her rush going and ripped one of the saws off its arms, one fire scarab opening a hole in to the saw & a volley of ice burrowing in to it.

More machine arms extended and swung for her, but her flaming white saw slashed them in half; ahead & 30ft away, her foe threw a dozen beads at the windows overhead -

- and all the moonlight went out of the room as they turned to amber, blocking Mia's sight. She heard machines clattering along with his footsteps; he knew the area well, and she stopped as she moved her fingers along the saw to check if her plan would work yet.

Waiting a few seconds, she exhaled sharply -

- and a breath of white flame came out of it that illumined the room; all she saw was a spot of motion on a pathway ahead & above her, and she hit its path with another white breath -

- melting the path ahead of him; he tripped and started falling as she threw the saw at him -

" - Jurassic!" he shouted mid-fall; Mia felt the saw fly back towards her -

- but an electrical swarm flew to meet it as he hit the ground, and as they sparked -

- the electrical current blasted the saw in to pieces, spraying the water she had left inside all around; 10ft away, he was still twitching on the ground as she rushed up to him -

- and stomped his chest so hard that it went all the way through; she thought she had missed him at first. Boots burning white, she stomped blindly for a minute before realizing she killed him on the first one.

Lighting the factory again, she saw his corpse and smiled. Before she called for Marisa, she thought of Ryumi and how she had progressed over the year, and met her mentor outside, frowning & without the man.

"What happened?" said Mia.

Marisa looked off to the side, then teasingly back at Mia. "Okay, first off -- you get to do that just this once. Two, I ran in to another Revenant, aaaand I might have accidentally…" She turned, showing Boudoir's shallow scars.

Mia nodded. She knew Marisa wasn't joking on it being accidental; both always treated civilians respectfully and had taken hits to protect them before. "I suppose not much of value was lost."

(With a few exceptions.)

"Yep." Marisa turned. "Like, there's no way he didn't warn those guys about us, too, so. I'm not gonna feel too bad about it."

"Er, I suppose." chimed Mia, then gestured to the corpse. "I left his face recognizable, at least."

◆◆◆

Sitting in the back office of a local dive bar he, in part, owned, Luft reached down to take a beer out of his mini-fridge. He looked over the pictures on his desk, and turned to his longtime confidant & intermediary to the rest of the family, Pauly. "Worldwide, and Boo… how the hell you pronounce that?"

"Bow-dwah. Boudoir. It's French."

"What's it mean?"

"It's a type of intimate photography. Usually of a woman in lingerie."

Luft snickered. "Sounds like my type of pictures. She always wear a dress like that?"

"That's her Revenant -- I didn't find any pictures of her without it." said Pauly.

"And knowing you, you were hoping to find a few." said Luft. "Boudwah. I swear, that French stuff reminds me of them type of plays my girl makes me take her to. She took me to see one last week where they ain't wearing no clothes."

Pauly stood up to leave, but Luft waved him down.

"C'mon, stay a while, at least. You ain't got somewhere to be, do you? You ain't never mentioned a woman in your life."

Pauly sat back down. "No, I suppose I haven't, Luft. I'm not like you -- I couldn't stand being with someone who don't know what I do."

"Well, I can respect that, but you'll learn sometimes it's better if a woman don't know too deeply. I mean, Christ, I love her, but she's a questioner. She asks questions about everything."

"About your work?"

"About everything but that. She's always trying to figure out reasons why people are the way they are and shit."

"You worried someone's gonna need to take her out?"

"No, for -- for crying out loud, Pauly, I ain't trying to be secret or some shit. I'm just saying she questions. Period. That's it. And if I needed someone taken out, I'd get someone in here and their fucking head would be swimming next morning. But the way I see it, if I'm gonna figure out any shit about myself, it's gonna be me. I don't see how some -- whatchamacallit, psych-? -- is gonna help me with that. Why's people pay someone else to tell them who they are? All those self-help books and most people ain't one foot further in to figuring themselves out."

"Luft, I don't care if you go see someone who wants to drill holes in your head, but you know this business ain't good for anyone who's got attachments."

"C'mon, Pauly, you don't actually believe alluva that crap about weaknesses and shit, do you? I mean, Revenants changed this business. It changed war, it changed -- well, fuck, just about everything to do with violence."

Luft was right: the existence of Revenants had both increased organized crimes volatility & its potency. In 1988, Richard Kulinski's 200 confirmed kills had made him legendry, and now any soldier with a good Revenant could double it in an afternoon.