@GoodThingGoing group
Kate Minola adjusted her watch, making sure that the face was viewable. It was a new purchase, the first thing she had bought with the money that she's stolen from Petruchio. There were still flecks of his blood under her nails. It filled her with something like pride. It was easy to look back on her actions as correct here on Soul, hidden out of Petruchio's grasp. It had been months since she'd escaped, months since she'd overheard him talking about how she bored him and how he wanted a challenge, how he'd wanted her sister Bianca to tame next.
Months since she'd smuggled a knife into their bedroom and stabbed it through his eye.
She smoothed her skirt, then looked up to catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror. She had to be presentable for this job. When she went up to the Soul Station's towering, shiny apartments she was no longer Kate Minola, but Lucia Baptist. She could live with being Lucia Baptist, at least for a few years. A few grueling years where she played the part that Petruchio had forced her into, the bubbly and cheerful woman who questioned nothing and took insults with a smile. She had no fond feelings for "Lucia Baptist", but she was very fond of staying alive and out of Petruchio's grasp, even if it meant this mind-numbing secretary work.
She certainly hadn't expected to find a wax-sealed letter tucked into the pocket of her blazer after work.
Kate perched on the arm of her chair and tore it open. She the envelop unceremoniously on the ground, then picked it up a split-second later after an uneasy feeling had filled her. I don't like it when you leave shit lying around, Katie. A woman should clean up after her man, not to mention herself. She forced all thoughts of Petruchio out of her head, then read the letter.
To Katherine Minola,
I do suppose this letter is shocking, as you haven't heard that name in nearly a year. You hid yourself quite effectively for being so…volatile before. But nevertheless, I find myself in dire need of your help. You see, I happen to be searching for the very man you're running from. A certain former associate of mine has run off with many of my resources. Plans for the city, money, and even confidential information. I know that we both have invested interest in seeing Petruchio Pauda meet his fate, be it prison or death. If you help me, I can ensure that he'll never bother either of us again, as well as providing you the resources to start over on whatever planet you wish. All you need to do is to offer your services to us. Please make it to the Benjamin Towers building at 12 o'clock sharp next Thursday.
Respectfully, James Moriarty
Kate stood as she finished the letter, her eyes scanning the room for anything she'd need to pack. There would be no more Lucia Baptist, and–better yet–no more Petruchio Pauda.
~~
Victor Frankenstein was on a three-month streak of not doing any science. It was completely miserable, but it was what he deserved, wasn't it? He had violated its rules beyond repair the last time. So he now confined himself to Soul Station's gardens as opposed to its laboratories, focused on helping to preserve life instead of bringing it back once it was gone.
He returned to his apartment after work, placed his dirt-streaked jacket into the wash, and then noticed a notification on his datapad. He accepted it, and a familiar face sprung up on the screen.
"Victor!" Henry Clerval said, and Victor couldn't help smiling. "How are your classes going?"
"Oh, um…there's going well. Quite well," Victor lied. For all Henry knew, he was still on Enna working towards his doctorate. Not…whatever you could call this. "Enna's programs are very thorough."
"So I've heard. Elizabeth said she tried to visit last week, but you weren't there," Henry said, and Victor cringed in spite of himself.
"Yes, well, something came up last minute and I couldn't meet with her. Schoolwork and all." He waved a hand dismissively, hoping that Henry couldn't see through his lie.
"I see," Henry replied. "We're just…worried about you. I mean, we haven't seen you in person in over a year."
"I know," Victor said softly. A sense of sadness fell over him then, and he frowned. "Look at the time! I have classes tomorrow, I really must be going. Goodnight, Henry."
"Goodnight," Henry said, a note of confusion in his voice. Victor ended the call, then leaned back with a sigh. What had happened to him? What had he become?
It was then that he noticed a small envelop tucked under his door. He opened it, careful not to tear the wax, and read through the contents twice. He walked to his schedule and marked down a single line.
Go to the Morcan De Rouge building at 3 o'clock sharp next Thursday.
