#maneo:selfpara

[rocky-maneo]

Big Girls Don’t Cry [self-para]

“Interesting that you think of it that way,” the lowlife chuckled, blood staining his teeth and seeping onto his lips.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Rocky droned in a bored tone, her hands busy with ejecting the clip out of the gun covered in his blood. As she began to empty the clip, the sharp clink of metal clashing onto the pavement below, she continued. “You talk so much, but say nothing.”

“Oh, little one, I think I’m saying quite enough.”

Her gaze fell to him before she lifted her foot, pressing the bottom of her Doc Martin’s into his forehead with some force. “Shut up.”

Another chuckle fell from his lips as he spit up more blood. “You beat the shit out of me for answers yet you haven’t gotten the answer you need.”

She rolled her eyes as she shifted her weight to her grounded foot, forcefully pushing down his face into the cement ground, his face scraping against it slightly from the impact. “Then start talking.”

“Do you trust a word I say?”

“I trust you about as much as I trust a weather report. I’m taking it with a grain of salt, dickbrain. Now what do you need to tell me? Spit it out.”

Her Korean pronunciation was starting to suffer terribly. Her anger was palpable, rolling off of her like tidal waves building just out beyond the shoreline as she stood over him pressing his face further into the cement ground beneath them. He chuckled again, sighing in what seemed to be a delighted tone. “You and me, we aren’t that much different from one another.”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t use your face to wipe birdshit off this pavement. We are nothing alike.”

“You really have no idea what happened all that time ago? You weren’t all that young then.”

“If you keep saying a bunch of shit instead of just saying what you were going to hours ago, I will literally leave you to bleed out in your car,” she said, her voice laced with every ounce of promise she could convey. When she finally worked her way to one bullet left in the clip, she inserted it and locked it.

There was a lengthy pause after the clip clicked into place as she locked it, one that almost made her wonder if the scum beneath her boot was still conscious. “Little girl--”

“I’m not little.”

“Little girl--”

Digging the heel of her boot into his cheek, she ignored the slight pop she felt. “I’m not little, piece of shit.”

“At least my mother didn’t sell me for a plot of land and a pocket full of 50 bhat.”

The world did not end with a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one silent scream at time. 

One hundred deafeningly quiet screams. Ones that kept her awake; ones that echoed through the hallway of every memory kept locked away, refusing to leave.

For Rocky, her world ended at twelve. The rest of her long life would serve as a timekeeper to that dog-eared moment in time. She would never be anything more than a kitsune who was sold to a bidder who then sold her to wealthy families who desired “pets” as another trophy in their trophy case. 

Returning to Thailand was a goal of Rocky’s. The country she hardly knew but was always reduced to while living abroad. 

It was far less beautiful than she remembered. Perhaps industrialization and the push to modernize had taken some of its charm away. Or maybe it was a romanticized land where things were ideal as a coping mechanism for how shitty everything after Thailand seemed to be. The life of complete solitude, subjugation and an anger that only seemed to worsen the longer she breathed--her home was always seen as a paradise whenever she reverted back to her life before she was trafficked.

It was a life of freedom, childish wonder, and playing along the canal. Naive to the world’s harsh realities. A paradise just based off of that.

However, as she made her way through the dirt roads outside Phuket’s city center and the rush of noisy tourists seemed to paint an entirely different picture altogether. She was nearing the stretch of lands owned by several resorts and private luxury realtors. From the information she gathered, she had important business at the Marina Cove Resort, one of the largest resorts in the area.

Rocky knew it was tricky, banking on all this intel to be accurate and correct. Deep down, she still wasn’t sure she could trust the Chinese trafficker who seemingly was still in contact with her mother. She wasn’t entirely sold. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to look into it herself. With his information and a little digital digging, she figured out a few more pieces to the puzzle that prompted her to book a flight to Thailand. Information such as her still working at a resort, changing her name to Rita and how she was now married to a realtor in Phuket.

It was amazing to her, how drastically her mother’s life had changed over the century. She went from a tin shack along the canals of Phuket, working as a housekeeper at two resorts and a woman who lost her daughter for god knows what reason to a wife who was well off and worked for one resort in their catering department. Just the thought of it made the bile bubble at the back of her throat.

Hours later, she meandered into the resort. Strolling with confidence up to the desk with a stolen credit card that she claimed was her father’s, she checked into her reserved room under a completely fake name. Weeks ago, she set this up. As soon as she learned about her mother’s new position at Marina Cove, the tech-savvy girl worked to get as much information about her normal routine as possible. There was a morbid sort of interest for the young kitsune. While she could honestly hear that same statement resonating at the back of her head, the one from the Chinese trafficker who revealed she was sold, not stolen, there was still a part of her that missed the woman. Something irrational within her brought up those nostalgic feelings and it made her feel like she couldn’t breathe.

That night brought no easy dreams. In fact, she felt sick at one point, so sick, she barely made it to the toilet in time to spew the contents of her skimpy dinner. A mere reminder that she wasn’t well off 95 years later. Even after all of these years of independence, Rocky still didn’t make a whole lot of money and ended up stealing money in order to afford the airplane ticket. The hotel room was stolen too. Meanwhile, it seemed after a day of following her mother, she was doing well for herself. She worked as a catering liaison at the resort and helped potential clients explore their options for holding weddings, birthdays, family reunions, etc. at the resort. She had a nice comfy life with her new husband and that was both comforting and sickening all at the same time.

After a night where she barely slept, she used that morning to tail her mother. In shorts, a crop top and sandals, looking foolish in her opinion, she followed at a sizable distance. She watched as she gave a site tour to a potential wedding party. The way she beamed and raved about all the great food packages that came with the event space was entrancing. 

She looked nothing like her, Rocky thought with a nauseating realization. Nose shapes, full lips, eyes--all of it looked so different when she compared herself to the older kitsune. She got almost nothing from her mother and that made her jaw flex as she watched her mother throw her head back as she laughed at the groom’s unfunny joke. She seemed so confident as she continued the tour, giving specifications on all the ballrooms and the reception area for said ballrooms. Her mother wasn’t as tall as her, she noted. Perhaps a trait passed on by her other parent--the mysterious person she never knew. Her mother’s short arms extended and it only prompted the young kitsune to look at her own long limbs.

Another thing she seemed to not pick up from her mother was the cheerful disposition. She seemed so content and happy as she walked around. And sure, that could just be her front-facing demeanor with prospective clients, but there was a gut feeling within Rocky that told her she was happy. Happier than she ever remembered her before.

In this moment, with the sun creating a perfect halo of light around her, it was easy for her to forget those words that stuck like glue in the back of her head.

“She knew what was coming and weighed out what was more important. Guess you didn’t make the cut, sweetheart.”

Those words were like a stain. The harder she scrubbed at it, to erase it from her memory and cling to a memory that she was stolen, ripped from her mother’s side, the deeper it set in. The more it set in, the less she could pretend like those words didn’t hurt. For the last twenty years, Rocky tried her hardest to understand why her mother would give her up. Sure, they were dirt poor and lived in a tin shack along the canals. They had nothing but each other. But that wasn’t so terrible, was it? Difficult, and, perhap most of the time it was trying, but that was hardly a reason to just give one’s child away. No matter how much she tried to rationalize it in her head, the kitsune came up with no justifiable reason as to what happened.

Following her mother led the raven-haired woman to a beautiful and sleek mansion just outside the resort area. Secluded, private and easy access for a girl used to breaking into any and everything. Her mother lived in a house made of stucco or similar solid material. No metal to be seen. The roof looked to be sturdy and without holes. A dream of a house and better than her sub-basement apartment back in Gwangju.

It was even harder to deny the words from the Chinese trafficker when she saw the lush and beautiful landscape surrounding the sprawling estate. The home looked gorgeous with the tropical backdrop. Modern and chic in every way. For her to have gone from rags to this, it only seemed to feed into the idea that maybe she did have to give Rocky up in order to have all of this. Another sickening turn in her stomach made her nearly spew the entire contents of her stomach, blood simmering just there beneath her skin.

The stakeout taught her a few things. She owned a vehicle. A very nice foreign brand. An Astin Martin actually. Her husband was tall and a little older with completely gray hair. He wore a bespoke suit that first time she laid eyes on him. He was somewhat handsome and pale. Almost looked foreign. He drove a Porsche. He seemed to treat her well in the few hours she could stomach observing. It must’ve been nice to find love after all these years. Probably most shocking of all was just how serene everything was. From her vantage point in a tree near the house, everything looked like it had a place and nothing was out of that designated spot. Blindingly clean, white cabinets in the kitchen, pristine dark wood floors, stainless steel counter tops that gleamed when the light hit it just right.

A perfectly secluded escape tucked away in Thai jungle.

Just as she determined she’d seen all she could take for the day, another set of headlights bobbed and flashed as the car pulled into the driveway to the house. Curiosity was getting the best of the young kitsune, and so she stayed there, perched between branches, her back uncomfortably digging into the rough bark of the tree as her eyes focused in on the final car. It came to a full stop and parked behind her mother’s Astin Martin. The last bit she saw of her mother and her new husband, they weren’t in any clothes to receive guests at this hour and it was rapidly getting darker. Her mind tried to rack over who would be arriving this late to a house they didn’t live in with people who looked like they were settling in for the evening, but she was coming up blank.

So, she just decided to watch and see what happened.

A man dressed in casual clothing hopped out of the car to open the passenger-side backseat door. Rocky was so engrossed in the mystery of who would emerge from the car, she didn’t notice how far she was leaning forward or that she was holding her breath. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a short leg peek from the bottom of the car door. Soon, it was a mess of jet black hair. With a tan leather backpack slung over his tiny shoulders, Rocky watched in silent confusion as a teenage boy emerged from the backseat. Who was this?

A shrill laugh sounded from somewhere and her head whipped around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. But by the time she turned to face the car once again, she found a second kid crawling from the backseat and pushing the older and taller boy. It was a small girl with her hair in a ponytail, her school uniform an absolute mess of wrinkles and what looked to be dirt on her skirt. Bone straight jet black hair almost identical to the bob she had when she was younger, she watched as a thin preteen arose from the car. She had to be a preteen. As they bickered among themselves, Rocky realized she didn’t know enough Thai anymore to keep up. A language she’d long forgotten to make room for the Korean language she used on a daily basis.

Who the fuck are they? 

She stayed there in that tree, watching the children bicker as they moved around the car, thanking the man for the ride and handing off an envelope to him. As they waved the car back out of the driveway and onto the private road leading back to the dirt road she walked along to make it to the estate, she watched a porch light illuminate the back deck of the house. The soft light guided the two back toward the house and as they continued to bicker lightning fast between the two of them. At the door was Rocky’s mother, smiling fondly as she scooped them both into a hug, ruffling the younger girl’s hair.

Dumbstruck and unable to process the image before her, the young kitsune straightened her rigid torso as she continued to watch the interaction. Kissing both kids at the crown of their heads, she laughed when the younger one jumped around excitedly, her backpack spilling the entire contents of the bag onto the wooden deck. 

Who the fuck are they?

Her keen hearing picked up one word in all the flurry of indecipherable Thai. It was one of the few Thai words she remembered. 

Maa.

The chill that ran through her was bewildering. It started at the top of her scalp and only descended at the slowest of paces. As if someone was pouring a bucket of ice water on her but instead of a splash, it was a steady trickle. Her eyes bore into the two children and her mother who was still helping pick up the fallen paper. She said something about dinner, but Rocky wasn’t able to pick up much else, her hearing beginning to turn fuzzy. Her vision blurred, unable to sharply focus on anything in front of her. Why would they call her mom? Why would they go up and hug her like that? Why would she be waiting for their return? Did those children live at the house?

The answer to those questions was obvious, but she couldn’t help but fight that possibility. There’s no way her mother had children. There’s no way Rocky had siblings for...at least ten years without her knowing. No. She was ripped from her mother, never reunited, despite possible efforts made on her mother’s part. No. She wouldn’t have children of her own after something so traumatic, right? 

Right.

[maneo-dongchul]

limbo [self-para]

All the power ebbing through his veins and yet he still felt powerless.

Ever since Friday night, the marid djinn was limited to sitting around and waiting. Waiting for any updates on Yoona; waiting to hear any word from their leader on high. 

He’d never been a patient person, more used to doing things on his own schedule and his own way, even after all the years he’d been in The Aegis. Sitting back and letting things develop was just an impossible task for him. Yet he tried with all his might to do just that this time around. He’d clearly stepped on some frayed nerves with the leader for snooping around the Amaranthine border with Yoona a few weeks ago, despite there being an order to keep a friendly distance from it. 

But now? With all the bullshit going on? When he really couldn’t just sit still and keep quiet? His hands were tied. The magnitude and scale of the implications if he stepped too far out of line were too great. The proof was in Yoona’s confinement to a hospital bed surrounded by police officers. 

Running a hand through his thick, black locks, hair brushing along the tops of his shoulders as he let out another loud curse, he let his foot connect with one of the stools at his breakfast bar, watching the metal chair topple and slide across the marble floor of his apartment. There was a sense of guilt that ate at Dongchul. He should have gone with her to The Gilded Siren. Or talked a couple of enforcers into tailing her just to be sure. That’s what teammates did for each other. Yet, the last texts he’d sent to her were...

You’re going to miss me for a whole day, I just know it, she’d sent.

His dark eyes moved over the screen before settling onto his very last text message to Yoona.

I won’t, so don’t worry.

He was such an asshole, he thought to himself as he threw his phone against the kitchen counter and ran his hands over his face. No new texts meant no new news. The dark circles under his eyes gave away how little sleep he’d gotten over the last two days as he desperately waited for any piece of information from anyone. And even worse than that, his attitude declined drastically since that night too. He wasn’t a dream to deal with before, but now he just seemed to be a surlier version of himself. He didn’t speak when spoken to, he bumped into everyone without so much as a glance or apology offered in response and he clearly didn’t even give a shit about his work at the border at the moment. With disdain and a flaring anger that was barely containable, he watched nightly as they conducted shift changes and patrolled that shared border with their own fiery gazes pinned to his pacing form. 

Dongchul was aware he needed to trust the process, trust in his organization and his leader and Yoona’s capabilities to get through this, but he was falling apart quickly. In such an alarmingly short span of time, somehow the djinn was missing one of the most rote parts of his day: arguing with Yoona. She was about the only one who would challenge him or say anything remotely snarky just to get a rise out of him and he’d play into every time because why not? It passed the time and kept him entertained for the little bit of time it transpired. Somehow, someway, he was genuinely missing that energy right now. Things would’ve been so much easier to bear if he had someone to argue with.

“Yoona,” he whispered out as he fought the urge to slam his fist into his kitchen counter top, “you’re such an idiot to get caught like that.”

Ignoring the way the sharp pain in his chest nearly knocked the wind out of him, he moved out of the kitchen and into his bathroom to feed on the human lying unconscious in his tub. At the very least, he could be the physically stronger version of himself if his emotionally weakened state wanted to wallow there in misery.

[maneoxhana]

𝐼 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒦𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒮𝒶𝒻𝑒

The things we lost in the fire, broken things, angel wings

It wasn’t unusual for the dynamic duo of Hanako and Kannika to be seen walking around Amaranthine territory. The worked there, after all. It was, however, odd for them to be wandering about the basement levels of The Gilded Siren. A punishment dolled out by the higher ups for sticking their noses where they shouldn’t have been yet again. Basement duty wasn’t all that bad, Hanako thought. Sometimes it could even be fun! The deeper they went, the more their voices echoed off the halls, and Hana thought that just neat. 

They were just coming up from the basement when the dark witch spoke, “Hey, Cas... does it smell like gasoline to you?” and the angel in turn cocked her head with a small pout. 

“Sorry, Kannika,” she made a show of sniffling, “my allergies have been acting up, I can’t smell anythin-” she paused, a sting of pain in her chest pulled her to her charge. “Something’s wrong, you’re in dan-” and no sooner than when those words fell from her lips, a boom that will never leave the angels memories shook the ground they stood on, blasting the area they’d been patrolling mere minutes ago. Debris hit her in the head and she saw stars. She was too late, always too late. 

“Kannika!” the angel screamed , unfurling the wings she always kept hidden in shame. She lunged at her best friend, holding her close as her white and grey wings enclosed around her charge in an attempt to shield her from the blast. She tackled the dark witch to the ground and felt the searing pain of flames licking her back, her feathers burning along with their surroundings. Her mouth was opened and her eyes screwed shut in complete agony, she couldn’t even find the voice to scream in pain. It was everything she could do to open her eyes to see that Kannika was alright.

“R-run-” she choked out, “I’m right behind you.”

The pair would make their way out of the basement, Hana would see her to safety, she wouldn’t let her charge down. Not again. Even if it killed her, she would manage. It was a level of pain she’d never experienced to keep her wings out, to shield kannika from the flames and debris with her own body, but this is what it meant to be a Guardian, right? 

That was the last thing she was able to think before darkness ebbed at the corners of her vision and the floor rushed up to meet her face. 

[maneoxmichelangelo]

ꜱᴜɴʀɪꜱᴇ

It’s 4am by the time Vincent was informed of the break-in and had arrived at the scene. Should Hisoka have been the one to come here? Probably. She’d overseen the build-out, she managed the place as best as she could, but he’d taken over those responsibilities from his daughter. She’d done so much for Invictus, so much for him, she needed to rest. So the alpha found himself at the shattered front doors, glass crunching beneath his shoes as he slipped under the CRIME SCENE tape set up by the police. 

He stepped into the club he’d just begun to know and already felt his stomach tighten as he saw the ruins at his feet. Tables and chairs, the bar, shelves upon shelves— broken, bent, shattered, torn. The pungent scent of alcohol permeated the air having soaked through the hardwood floors. He could see rivers of water coming from the direction of the bathrooms and he didn’t even want to know the damage in there. He took out his phone.

txt to >> family group chat       guys... it’s not pretty. 

He kept replying as he scanned the place more in depth for damages. He had no idea how much most of this stuff cost, but he knew Sungmin was going to have a hernia when he arrived. Everything was destroyed. He crouched down on the balls of his feet to inspect a nasty gouge in the wood of the bar, and when he came back up his eyes fell on something that felt entirely out of place. He felt his stomach drop as he reached out to pick up the photograph. The edges were warped, but clear as day, the photo was of their medic and his family, and The Crest of The Aegis had been drawn over it. Panic settled in.

txt to >> family group chat        I need people at Vic's. Now.

Was he possibly overreacting? Yes. After all, it was Vic himself that had called him and notified him of the break in. Vic was more than likely fine, but this was... specific. This was a calling card. A warning. This was targeted, and Vince didn’t know how or why. He’d have to wait for Chanwoo and Sungmin to arrive before discussing it further. 

Tomorrow’s meeting was going to be interesting. 

[maneoxhana]

𝒞𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒲𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈,                 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔

Some Angels were meant to fall.  TW: blasphemy, coma/light description of sleep paralysis (if those make anyone uncomfy)

Darkness.

Searing heat.

Darkness.

Flames licking at her skin.

Darkness.

Agonizing pain.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Castus felt like air and like a brick, all at the same time. 

She felt the searing pain along her back, her arms, legs- but worst of all, her wings. There was pressure on her back and it felt like being pressed up against a grill, she could practically feel her skin sill sizzling. She wanted to scream, but she had no voice. She wanted to move, run, fly, anything to get her away from the burning, but she couldn’t move. 

Perhaps this was her Purgatory. Devoid of all senses but her pain for failing yet another charge— no... for failing her friend. no. for failing her soulmate. She was destined to waste to nothing in this realm of darkness to atone for her sins, to feel the flames of hell on her skin until she was mad in agony. Unable to scream with her tongue cut out, unable to move, limbs tied to a bed of hellfire. 

Kannika...

Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she thought of the brilliant woman she’d grown to care for over the years. The witch was a pagan, an oddball, and a loose canon, but Castus loved her no less for those things. She had a brilliant smile, a peculiar sense of humor (and oh, Castus would sorely miss ‘meme reviews’ with her), and a heart of gold. Bravery and determination she’d never seen before, traits she’d hoped to adopt from the other as time went on. And Castus didn’t even know if Kannika had made it out alive. 

Please, Lord... is she alight. I must know. she prays to a voice she’s nearly forgotten, one that had not answered her call in nearly five years, I must know if she’s safe. If I saved her. emptiness. burning. quiet. If she lives... please... please keep her safe. That is my only request. I will spend my days here, condemn me to hell, but please keep Kannika safe. Give Kal one last assignment. She’s a heathen, right? A Pagan. You never would have let me escort her to the Heavens anyway, so let Kal take her to hell when her time comes. Put her under his care. 

Tears fell freely as she wept, silently, unmoving, but with unparalleled anguish in her heart as she begged and pleaded with The Creator to help her. Help her. Help Kannika. Help.

And then the pain stopped. 

Darkness became blinding light.

She was met with The Creator. 

“Do not celebrate yet, child. This reprieve is merely temporary.” His Divine voice echoed in her mind. Castus’ eyes could hardly adjust to the blinding lights of The Heavens after being surround by nothing but a dark void for so long, and His booming voice disoriented her. “You are not yet welcomed into my Domain. You have yet to complete your task, and it appears you may fail.” 

Hanako blinked up, shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked upon Him, “May?” she inquired with excitement, hope in her tone, “Does this mean that Kannika is alright? She’s safe!?” 

“For now. Your actions saved her from the fire and destruction. You finally managed to keep a Charge alive. Unfortunately, you’ve killed yourself in the process. I give you a nearly indestructible body, molded with my own hands, and you managed to get hurt in the singular way you can be harmed.” 

This was not the first time The Creator spoke down to her, patronizing her for her shortcomings. This was, however, the first time she ever felt spite and resentment towards Him. The first time she ever felt like she could voice herself against Him. Kannika’s courage had seeped in to her veins, and before she knew it, she spat. 

“You gave me a broken body and a Charge that could never be saved. You made me feel like less of an Angel because of how you made me. They call me the Angel of Death! Because of you!” her emotions and convictions were strong, and she had nothing to lose. She was already condemned to a life in purgatory. “You knew I could never save Kannika’s soul. It was a mission I was doomed to fail from the beginning. If she didn’t die, I’d have fallen from Grace from the weight of our sins, and you knew this. Didn’t you.”

The Creator was silent.

“You knew. You knew. You knew and yet you have the gall to sit, Almighty, and blame me for this. My wings are charred black. I know what this is.” tears streamed down her face as she lashed out in sadness, mourning, anger, “This is the last time I will ever see this place. This is the day I fall. And if that’s so, I cannot leave without saying Thank you. Had you not condemned me to fall, I never would have met Kannika. Or any of the amazing friends I’ve made.”

“So go ahead. Strip me of my Grace. There’s nothing left for me here. But if you condemn me to a life of that hellish Purgatory, you owe me one thing: Kannika stays safe. She’s dumb. She’s reckless. She needs protecting. Please. Ask Kal to keep an eye on her for me. I know you can.”

The Creator remained silent. 

He grinned. And then He spoke. 

“Very well. Some Angels were meant to fall, Castus. You’re one of them. Broke my heart to see you try so hard, but I’m glad you’ve accepted your place on Earth, even if it means you cannot forgive me. I return you to your self-proclaimed Purgatory, and if you awaken you will be purged from Grace. Farewell, child.”

“Wait-” she choked out, the light around her already beginning to fade and the burning, god, the burning creeped back, “Wait, you didn’t promise! You never promised Kannika would stay—” 

Darkness.

Searing heat. 

Darkness.

Flames licking at her skin.

Darkness.

Agonizing pain.

Darkness.

“Safe....”

[rocky-maneo]

a needle in a haystack (self-para)

Days.

Rocky had been at this for days.

Two to be exact. Relentlessly and meticulously pulling data from the nearest four cellphone towers from Alucard’s attack. It was important she made good on her promise to deliver a name. However, delivering a name meant a little more than writing out the name and passing it off to Alucard and Aiden and leaving it at that. No, the kitsune was a little too thorough with these matters. She needed to know his name, species, affiliation and quite possibly any digital footprint he could possibly leave behind.

It took Rocky half a day to compile the complete list of phone numbers within range of those two towers that day. It took her a painful four hours trying to narrow down to the list of numbers to a specific time frame. From there, she looked for common occurrences between the numbers. Perhaps there would be one that pinged the same two towers. To her luck, she was able to find such a pattern. After that, it was all about looking up the numbers that seemed to cross between any of the two towers, specifically if they popped up in the cell tower closest to the attack.

While the list was completely narrowed down to a handful of numbers comparatively, she did run all of those through a search engine she paid for monthly to gain access into. The database provided her with a name. It took not even two hours to locate him on the SPD database. However, she circled back just to make sure she did the entire process correctly and found the right person, matched all the right information. 

Today though, the sleuthing kitsune spent the day trying to track a digital footprint on the name she found. Did he have any social medias she could view? Did he do any online banking that would create any tracking she could follow? Frequented websites? Anything that could give her information on who he was beyond the name, species and affiliation. Sadly, she came up empty handed on that front.

A deep sigh of relief filtered past her lips as Rocky leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Tiredly, she rubbed a hand over her face and slouched into the seat. She was tired, but her work wasn’t fully complete. She needed to at least transfer what she had into digital files, add it to her hard drive and send copies into the shared drive on all higher ranking members’ computers and tablets. Then from there she would need to call a meeting with them.

Yes, she was exhausted, and sleep beckoned like a cool breeze on a sweltering hot day, but she would sleep once she saw this much through. And with that as her motivation to push through, she raised herself out of her seat with another sigh and left for the break room. Black coffee or a RedBull could do the trick in helping her push to the finish line.