RP Fight Fire With Gasoline

Stitches

Resident Firebird
Staff member

Philadelphia had become the home of Slate– and as a result, Fire Opal– over the last five years. Slate had been going strong for almost a decade now, and only showed signs of gaining more traction in the states. They’d even been informed of several overseas operations in the works. Of course, that wasn’t really Fire Opal’s expertise.

Like Malachite, Fire Opal was one of their heavy hitters. She was the one they sent in when there were problems. She was their tank, their defender, their final solution. After all, not much could compare to superhuman strength and fire. It was that fire that she used to burn down other gangs and entities that stood in their way. Of course, Obsidian had a no-kill policy when it came to her– something about not tainting her soul. Whatever the case, that didn’t stop her from breaking some bones.

She had just gotten back from one such mission– three injured, two surrendered, and two warehouses burnt to a crisp– and was looking for her brother. Usually, he was in the Emerald, but she had searched everywhere but his office, only to find the place completely empty. That was odd, but not not completely out of the norm. Sometimes the Pack went out, and she wasn’t expected back until the next day. Still, better to check his office before deciding that he wasn’t home.

She started up the stairs, but stopped after a foot or two. Her head tilted to the side as she felt the vibrations through the floorboards. Footsteps in Obsidian’s office… footsteps that weren’t his.

Just like that, She rolled her shoulders back and straightened out, a sharp smile on her face. An intruder? In the Emerald? Fire Opal cracked her neck and started down the hall, her steps light on the wooden floors to avoid being heard. She breathed in slowly, channeling heat into her body as she got close to the door. Now, she could hear the sound of someone inside, though what they were doing, she couldn’t quite tell.

She stretched her arms above her head and sighed softly, then carefully opened the door. She leaned against the door frame as she stepped in. Her orange curls fell in rivers down to her waist, her golden eyes flashing. She was wearing a pair of black sweats and a black long sleeve, but was barefoot. A grin crossed her face as she looked into the room. “What do we have here, hmm? A thief or an intruder?”
 

Lark isn’t really one hundred percent positively sure that they’re looking in the right place, but at least it’s a place to look. It’s better than any future Lark is managing, at least.

The reasoning for their snooping is really very simple, so simple that they can’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before. The goth lady seems like she would be associated with some kind of gang, and Slate is the biggest gang in the area. Surely, even if they don’t have a personnel file on her, they’ll have some information somewhere. Maybe she’ll be filed under prominent threats.

There’s no doubt in their mind that she would register as a prominent threat. She’s a threat to the oldest Lark there is, so she must be. The problem, of course, is that they just aren’t finding the right files. Yet. But they will!

They’re cracking open another filing cabinet when the voice startles them. They freeze, tensing up all over, and then in a flicker of not-there movement they’re crouched behind the desk, peeking up over it. They’re not as tall as they will be, so it’s a pretty good hiding spot.

“Ummm… neither! Just uh, a traveler. Yes, a traveler. I got… lost. On the way to… the bathroom?” That would probably be more convincing if they hadn’t been caught red-handed, but they’re working with what they’ve got. They might have to just suck it up and come back another day, if they can’t weasel their way out of this. But they’re very good at weaseling, so they’re not giving up yet!

“You must be the intruder!” they claim, in a flash of genius. “I was already here, so obviously I belong here. But youuu… don’t. Yes.”

 
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