The second-half of a Slayer’s life, Leona had quickly discovered over the past few days, was a pain in the ass in three different ways. Politics, which stomped into her way of living non-consensually like discovering a burglar in your home and tainting sanctuary with paranoia. You’d be hard-pressed to find a Slayer who enjoyed politics as much as they did slaying. The second were the headaches from dealing with the nuisances. Smirking bureaucrats indulging the power they hold over superhumans, telling tales and shifting blame in a single sentence, incompetent suits unable to devalue their greed. It was unreasonably challenging to deal with them, and because of it, this led to the third way: cynicism. She hated how negative she felt. Constantly cursing people, and just the other day she’d yelled at one of the ORO-hired artisans for screwing up an order.

She’d seen the best (and worst, considering Carn) of people during the Disaster. Here, she wasn’t going to encounter any scum on the same level as the Apocalyptics they’d dealt with, but rather slime and parasites and snakes. People who might not be wholly evil but acting purely out of self-interest in a field where such philosophy thrived.

During the aftermath of the world’s worst outbreak—invasion, as the officials were referring to it now—Ordo suddenly became a volatile hub of shifting balances of power. Guilds crumbling and new figureheads emerging from the dark, new leaders replacing the fallen commanders, and empty spaces to fill.

Site 3 had unluckily caught some flak. It was one of the sites owned by Angels Guild, located near the coast in Creekwood. According to the online website, Site 3 was an ‘artisanal labs’. For what purposes wasn’t explained but considering it had docks leading out into the East China Sea and the size of the main grounds, one could easily guess dangerous experiments had taken place here.

So dangerous that the main ground itself was endearingly referred to as the ‘killing floor’ by the artisans working here. This experiment, then, was no exception. A catastrophic error would instantly kill the hundreds of personnel present here plus anyone else in a one-mile radius.

Stepping over thick bundles of electrical wires, Leona observed the construction of a temporary redirection site. Engineers were constructing elaborate machines, the invention an unison between technology and magick, things Leona couldn’t possibly understand the intricacy of. Small cranes were lifting heavy bulks of mechanical parts inside, workers drilling them into place. Even Slayers were here, either guarding or aiding in the construction. Altogether, there was a broken perimeter of apparatuses surrounding a massive circular platform made of magically-tempered steel, about the size of several suburban houses put together. Within the platform were ten smaller, indented circles lining the circumference, inert magical veins connecting them. When active, these lines would glow blue.

Site 3 was one of the few places in Ordo where they could construct a temporary redirection site since countless of them had been damaged or outright destroyed during the Disaster. The ‘killing floor’ was large enough to fit the specifications and more—the size of which, Leona thought as her eyes swept from one end to another, must’ve allowed the artisans to conduct some scary projects over the years.

Manipulating the fabric of the multiverse probably wasn’t the most savage thing they had done.

“Empress, ma’am!” one of the project managers ran up to her. A senior artisan by the name of Gizmo Wiz. What a goofy name for a middle-aged man who could be her uncle.

It’s even goofier knowing I hold a higher position over him. Why in the world did Seraph trust me to whip Site 3 together? she thought to herself before correcting her posture, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest. “What’s the problem this time, Gizmo?”

“The energy crystal delivery is getting held back for another hour,” he said, walking as they talked, “plus the senior inspector from RFA hasn’t come yet and he isn’t answering my calls. We can’t get this thing off the ground without his approval.”

“What have you done so far?”

“I called his assistant who led me to the department hotline. I’ve been put on hold for about two hours now.” Gizmo glanced at the construction’s progress. “This was supposed to be completed twelve hours ago.”

“I know.” Every minute this thing is past its deadline, another portal is opening somewhere in the city. We have more than enough manpower to squash it out, but there’s always the risk of a breakthrough.

The artisan added on the growing pile, “We haven’t received all of the materials we need—”

“Gizmo,” Leona stopped him. “What’s the biggest problem you need to solve? The RFA?”

Gizmo nodded. “The RFA inspector, that’s right.”

“Okay, that’s a start. I can’t fix the delivery delay or any of the delays you have currently. That’s out of my hands. But let’s focus on getting the inspector here. What’s his name?”

“Uh…” Gizmo patted his jacket in multiple places before finding the right pocket, exclaimed “Aha!” and pulled out an index card. On it were names and phone numbers. “The second name is the assistant. You can try calling the inspector himself but he didn’t pick up after three times.”

Leona took it, rattling off the numbers to herself. “Thank you. I’ll call them right now.”

“Yes ma’am—” Gizmo was interrupted when he saw something to their left. Immediately he began to shout bloody murder, lambasting one of his workers for ‘being a numbskull’ and dashing over, nearly running into a guard on-duty. Well, guess he was a different person when he was talking to his underlings.

“Goodness,” Leona said to herself. She whipped out her phone and dialed the assistant’s number.

After five or so seconds, they picked up. “This is Franceska Baresi from the RFA Emergency Section. How may I help you?”

“Good…” Leona checked her watch. It was twelve. “Well, good noon, Baresi. This is Celestial War Empress, Angels, watching over the construction of a temporary spatial redirection hub in Site 3. I’m asking about the senior inspector that’s supposed to be here this morning but hasn’t arrived. I’m sure Gizmo has asked.”

“Site 3, yes,” she replied, putting on the same fake hospitable tone as her. “I’m sorry for the delay but Mister Lyons is busy with other projects in the city. I’ve already notified him and he sends his deepest apologies to you, Empress. If you have any more questions, I can give you the number for—”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. We’re all busy people but we need this hub online right away without wasting more time. I need Mister Lyons here.”

“I understand, but he is busy—”

“I know, so please pass on this message to him.” Leona paused, letting the order settle in. “Since I’m calling, the delay is an inconvenience. If I don’t receive a response from the inspector by one o’clock, I will notify Seraph because this inconvenience has turned into a hassle. If that happens, Seraph will call you, and you and your boss will need to explain to her why there’s a problem. Do you understand who I am, Miss Baresi?"

The woman on the other end gulped. It was the scared squawk of someone who wasn’t nearly paid enough to mentally handle this. “P-Pardon?”

“Do you understand who I am?” Leona repeated with more emphasis. She’d created enough negative energy today and she needed to expel it.

“I… I am aware, yes.”

“Mhm, so believe me, I don’t want to bother Seraph any more than I have to. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Empress ma’am. I-I understand.”

“Great. I want an answer by twelve-thirty.”

Baresi made an odd sound, moments away from asking Leona why she’d changed the deadline. However with the threat of Seraph looming over her, it seemed the question was trapped in her throat. Twelve-thirty, the RFA had thirty minutes before Leona would bring hell.

Theoretically. Leona was bluffing out of her teeth, but the threat was greater than the attack.

Quickly the assistant muttered a pathetic response and hung up.

Within ten minutes, Leona received a phone call from the senior inspector himself and a personal apology. Thirty-five minutes later, he arrived via teleportation. Gizmo was entrusted to lead Lyons around and highlight the progress they’d made thus far. It was in the engineers’ hands now, and Leona hoped there wouldn’t be any more problems regarding the RFA.

She took the initiative and asked Gizmo beforehand for the materials they still required, cross-referencing them to a list of deliveries coming to Site 3. Pretty much all of them were experiencing some sort of delays due to the damaged roads, cordoned areas, checkpoints and regulations, everything in the book.

“Is there anything I can do to speed this up?” she asked herself, thinking out loud, tapping the eraser-end of her pencil against her cracked lips. She couldn’t cancel any of the deliveries and finding alternatives would make the RFA and ORO angry. They had strict stipulations regarding these temporary hubs down to the nuts and bolts used.

“Maybe…” She tapped the eraser against one of the highlighted boxes. “Maybe I could—“

Mad yelling caused her to jump and almost drop her pencil. A failure with the construction—? No, not that. A commotion at the entrance. Slayers and Ordoian soldiers verbally clashed with intruders at the gates. The head-butting was so loud that half of the workers immediately stopped to investigate and the curiosity spread like wildfire, and within seconds, construction halted altogether.

Leona sped, moving through busybodies wanting to catch a look at the new problem on the horizon. She reached the butt of the crowd and met indignant voices and people just as confused as her. Asking around didn’t help cure her bewilderment. She braved and squeezed into the tight swarm of swords and rifles, but as soon as she cracked through the surface, the entire bunch was pushed back.

She darted backwards deftly on her feet, using her experience she'd gained as a Pseudo to carry her away. Her eyes automatically lurched onto the gaps between heads and bodies, finally seeing the interlopers in question: soldiers, with a patch depicting a blue shield and inside the shield was a graphic of the globe.

Otherguards.

Slayers were also a part of the unit, dressed in their own unique ways.

At the front was a Caucasian man in his thirties, dressed in fatigues, probing the disgraceful facility with his narrow and cutting dark eyes. Every person he saw cultivated his resentment towards the lower ilk as though they were useless trash. Major Goggs, if his tag and stripes were read right. He must’ve run an oppressive ship since his men and women were as quiet as a graveyard, hands firm on their signatures and weapons as a show of dominance. Sure as hell felt unnerving, though, seeing who were supposed to be allies one finger flick away from a civil war.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Who’s in charge here?” asked the Major authoritatively, crossing off faces with sweeps of his iron stare.

Leona pushed to the front and he noticed, his narrow gaze becoming narrower. “I am, sir. As best as you can get.”

There was no response from Major Goggs, instead taking an uneasy few moments to dress her down with his thin slit of dark eyes. “And you are…?”

“Celestial War Empress,” Leona answered as proudly as she could. “I was assigned by Seraph to facilitate the construction going on behind me.”

Major Goggs raised an eyebrow. One of his Slayers stepped forward and opened a blue screen, seemingly using [Basic Information]. “She’s lying, she’s not even a Slayer.”

“That right?” replied the Major.

“Mhm.”

“Okay.” For the one or two seconds of attention he’d given her, he was instantly disinterested and that felt like a sharp knife sliding into her stomach. Leona adamantly tried to insist on her authority but she was overpowered by his voice, loud and commanding, and on que his men began to swarm the killing floor like ants spotting food.

“Don’t let a single man, woman, or machine within ten feet of the redirection site without my explicit say-so,” ordered Goggs. “If you see a single hand on a wrench or screwdriver, slap it away. I should not see anyone doing an ounce more work on this contraption.“

“Hold on! Explain yourself, Guard! What the hell are you doing?!” Gizmo braved the pressure and confronted the Major directly.

“You are?”

“Gizmo, senior artisan here at Site 3.” He flashed his ID badge.

Major Goggs gave it one look over and unlike with Leona, he was willing to listen. Rather, that wasn’t the case at all. He found someone decent worth talking to. “Let me state this once, Angel, I’m taking control of this project—“

“On whose authority?”

“Colonel Han’s.” He eyed the gathered spectators. “With my being here, he has communicated his displeasure of having the Otherguards excluded from the conversation. So under his orders, the redirection site must be dismantled and all parts are to be transferred to Steel Notes Park for reconstruction there.”

In contrast to the Major’s cool way of speaking, his unwitting audience reacted violently to the news, erupting in bedlam and aggrieved cries and raised tight fists in outrage. Major Goggs raised his voice and a battle of volume took place, one that he won in seconds as his men emphasized the weapons they were brandishing.

When the ruckus died, the senior inspector from Rift Functions stepped beside Gizmo. “You surely can’t be serious! We have the direct approval of the ORO coordinator and Colonel Liu—“

Goggs cut, “Well, this isn’t in Colonel Liu’s district, ain’t it? No matter which way you cut it, this falls well into Colonel Han’s and he disagrees with having this Angel installment as the designation site. He wants it in Notes and that’s where it’s going to be, simply put.”

“We’re just a few hours away from completion! It took us days to reach this point with all the delays!” protested Gizmo. “Transporting everything to Steel Notes will delay the construction until the end of this week if a miracle happens!"

“I don’t want to see any grudges put in action, you hear?” Goggs said, ignoring Gizmo out of choice. “Otherwise you’ll spend a very uncomfortable day in a cell—”

“Where’s Colonel Han?” Leona spoke up. She’d gathered enough information from the short conversation—if you could call it that. What the inspector said was true: all parties involved had signed off on it. Well, almost. Angels would mainly be in-charge of construction. They’d gotten the thumbs-up from the Outbreak Relief Organization, the Rift Functions Agency, and the Ordoian Army in the form of Colonel Liu. She’d spoken with the man in question and he reassured her everything was peachy on his end.

She assumed he’d taken care of the necessary communications with the Otherguards.

That was a firm negative.

She recognized the issue now: this was a miscommunication between Ordo and the Otherguards, specifically between two prideful people.

Major Goggs gave Leona one look-over and that was it, not a single thought more.

Alright, since you set the rules… Leona placed a hand on Gizmo’s shoulder and tugged him back. “Gizmo, I’m finding Colonel Han myself. Tell the inspector he can leave and assure him we can solve this, but can you occupy the Major ‘til then?”

Gizmo shrugged. “Your guess is good as mine, ma’am.”

“Try your best. Contact me through the System—” Leona stopped and wanted to kick herself, “—you have my number, right?”

He nodded.

“Text me.”

Leona popped free from the claustrophobic mass of bodies, jogging southside of Site 3. She spotted a personal aerial SMV that Rector had loaned her for daily use. The roads were too congested and it’d be bad for her body if she kept teleporting everywhere; luckily for her, the SMV could be remotely piloted by an assistant.

She retrieved her ID card but before she pressed it against the lock, she looked at it. This was proof of her importance. Would Major Goggs be convinced of her authority with this, like he had with Gizmo? Maybe, maybe not.

After unlocking the SMV, she climbed inside. She found the envelope-sized sticky-note containing the directions on how to operate this vehicle, then followed them exactly as written. The front panel was turned on. The comms were activated. “Read me, Scrutiny.”

Ten seconds later, Scrutiny came online, “I hear ya, Empress! My my, it’s a real pleasure hearin’ your voice again. Sure brightens the day for little ol’ me.”

“We’ve spoken not so long ago, sweetheart.”

“Hours on these days is eternity ‘round these parts. Anyway, where to?”

"First, do something for me. Find a ‘Colonel Han’. There’s been an incident at Site 3.”

Leona explained the situation to Scrutiny, who hummed and hummed. She didn’t seem like all her tools were sharp in the shed but Rector promised she was reliable (when she felt like it, he added).

“Okay, gotcha. So a back-liner thinks he can waltz in and run the show, yeah? I can nab Colonel Han for ya; doubt he’s a hard man to find, no harder than a rat in the pantry. Gimme some minutes, so sit back and relax, Empress.”

I can’t. “Thank you.” Although her back met the comfortable leather chair (”Equipped with seat warmers and arm rests!” as Scrutiny had boasted before) nothing could appease the palpitations of her heart. It’d been beating hard since her post-System fever subsided enough for labor.

While Scrutiny was busying herself with the Colonel, Leona’s phone was plucked free from her pockets. Her fingers quickly slid past the lock screen and she dialed.

Althea picked up almost instantly. In the background noise there were sounds of construction work and busy voices. “Yeah, what’s up—? Hold on, wait a second.” Those noises became faint. “Okay, I think I found a quiet place. So yeah, what’s up?”

She sounded normal as ever. That was a blessing. But like everyone else, she’s hiding her grief. “Nothing much. I thought I’d call seeing I have a few minutes to myself. How’re things at OU? How’s our other Baptists? Shandian?”

“Shandian’s entertaining some of the kids here. As for me, I’m barely staying afloat with the mess I got and the Alumnus are worse off. I barely saw them this morning.” That’s understandable. They want to help their people in OU as much as they can given what happened. The Disaster, Scorcher, the OBDs, Dawns was hit the hardest. “At least it’s keeping ‘em busy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s work. It keeps your mind off of stuff.” Althea oddly paused after stating that, most likely thinking back to her own worries. “Luckily for us, there’s a lot of work to be done. Good for me, good for you. How’s life as the commander, commander?”

“Terrible,” Leona admitted, scratching dirt off her face. “This morning, I chewed out one of the engineers sent by the RFA.”

“RFA…?”

“Rift Functions Agency, they deal with anything spatial on a multiversal level I think. I don’t know. I heard a dozen different acronyms this past morning and I barely remember my own initials.”

“Yeah, anyway why did you yell at the guy?”

“Who?” Leona suddenly remembered. “Oh right, mhm. I yelled at him because he was basically being a nuisance and micromanaging everything. I said some not-so-nice words that you’d be proud of, knowing your foul mouth.”

“My mouth isn’t foul. I can say some real poetic stuff sometimes. Or write ‘em. Only for English class. If I absolutely have to.” Althea sighed, and Leona couldn’t tell if she missed those days or were glad they’d passed. She was getting harassed in school due to drama involving Vernon, but personally missing out on your senior year of high school was a sad thing.

“Well, an intrusive engineer isn’t the worst thing I have to deal with today. Right now, some colonel had decided to order his men into Site 3 with their weapons drawn, telling us to dismantle everything and move it somewhere else.”

Althea paused. “…Like the redirection thingy? The whole thing?”

“The redirection thingy. The whole thing.”

“Shit,” she said in disbelief. “You might wanna get out your not-so-nice words, then, Leo. Chew his fucking head off.”

“As much as I want to do that, I’m afraid I can’t. I am a representative of Seraph and all of Angels Guild to an extent,” said Leona. “It’s precisely my job to navigate through the convoluted web of agencies and departments and bureaus and their hierarchies while trying to desperately hold onto what little sanity I have left. I need this experience. I need this training.”

“But you hate it.”

“Dear God, I hate it so much. I’m constantly taking medicine so my stomach doesn’t turn over in disgust.”

“Heh, don’t force yourself too much, ‘kay?” warned Althea. “Seraph’s not gonna blame you for taking a day off.”

As much as my body begs me to take a break, I can’t. I have to be ready knowing our enemies ahead of us, and I have to be a responsible role model for you, darling. “I can take care of myself.”

“He’d disagree with that, y’know,” Althea mentioned.

A mallet of pain banged against her skull. “I can take care of myself, Thea.”

There was a gap between her response this time. “I’m just looking out for you—”

“I know you are and I know you mean the best for me, but having you dote on me is the last thing I need right now. I’m perfectly capable of handling whatever comes my way despite my complaints implying otherwise,” (“Leo—”) “this is something I have to do. If you need my help with anything, just tell me, but please don’t do—I don’t know—that. Okay? Don’t do that.”

The gap lengthened considerably before Althea responded, “Don’t be a dumbass, Leo. I haven’t talked to Vernon in days and I’ve barely seen you at all. The last thing I need is worrying about the entire fuckin’ world at this point ‘cause I don’t have the patience for it.”

Vernon… Leona put a hand over her mouth to stifle whatever sigh or groan was coming out. “I’ll figure out what’s going on with Vernon—”

“That’s not my point. I—!” The front console shone green. Across the windshield, a holographic image of a map swept the surface. Scrutiny had found Colonel Han.

When Leona’s attention returned to the phone call, Althea was talking about something but she didn’t know what. “Althea, hey—”

“What is it?” she replied, frustrated.

“I need to go. I’m about to meet that coloneI told you about earlier.”

“...How long will that take?”

Leona shrugged. “Ten minutes, maybe ten hours. It’s anyone’s guess.”

“Call me when everything’s sorted. I’mma head back to work.” Without a sweet goodbye, she ended the call.

That little check-up call was a sour one, but Althea was right about one thing: the amount of work they had was an excellent distraction. Leona put on her seatbelt and turned to the console, feeling the SMV purr with vigor.

“Scrutiny, have a hit?” she asked the artisan.

“A bullseye!” Scrutiny cheered, clapping to herself. “I found Colonel Han and drivin’ ya to him now. You’re lucky to have me as your chauffeur, milady!”

“Good. One more thing: connect me to Colonel Liu. I need to speak with him.”