August 25th, Saturday, Carnegie women's locker room 2:03 pm The locker room was quickly overcome by screeching, squealing, spastic girls, jumping and waving and hugging and flinging their clothes off in victory. Hugs and kisses abounded with little restraint or thought; it was as if they had won a war and not a practice game. They certainly had reason to celebrate, but this frivolity was uncalled-for. Fausta too was happy, but she whistled loudly and got everyone to stop what they were doing. "Thank you," she sighed. "Now before you all go and make complete asses of yourselves, just remember we still have two games left, and if you thought Laudendale was difficult, you're going to be in for a rude awakening. But by all means, take some time off and rest on your laurels if that's what you want. We'll lose, of course- and badly, might I add- but at least today's victory will be with us, even if the team is dissolved prematurely." She peeled off her sweaty underclothes and stepped into a shower, casual and indifferent under the cool spray. "Good God, woman, don't you ever chill out?" Jen snorted. "We can 'chill out' once we win another game. But I won't stop you." The celebrations ended frostily. Fausta's words stung everybody, and as painful and irritating as they were, they all knew she was right. She had good intentions, but she didn't have to be such a wrecker about it. Once the atmosphere became more solemn, Fleur was seen limping inside, a subtle twitch of pain on her face, Kathlyn supporting her. The doctor had given her a good diagnosis and said that as long as Fleur rested and didn't put any unnecessary strain on her foot, it would heal quickly. She would need a splint and a crutch, though, and probably wouldn't recover in time for the next game. "Do you need any help undressing?" Kathlyn asked with sincere concern. "No thank you," Fleur replied bitterly. "I'm not a child, and I told you I've had worse. If you're interested in me in that way, you'll just have to wait until later." "Don't flatter yourself," Kathlyn chuckled. "If you're healthy enough to snap at me, then I suppose my services have ended. Uh, ladies, great game today! I'll be outside helping the Coach if you need me." She saluted and was on her way; Lauren ribbed Alice playfully. "Hey, she's pretty cute for an older girl, huh? And that tattoo of hers is wicked. She acts like a wallflower but I bet there's a wild side to her." Alice shrugged numbly; she was more concerned with Rain. It had taken everything she had not to punch Fitzgerald in the face for the way he treated her girlfriend. Because of this, she had not even smiled earlier. This caused Lauren some concern. "Hey, Al, you okay? Oh shit, I totally forgot about Rain! Fuck, man, that sucks! I'm sorry, Al. But maybe we can go see her later on." "Forget about it," she grumbled. "Just leave me alone for awhile." She undressed and turned the shower as cold as it would go. This was her way of protecting Lauren: she couldn't bear the thought of lashing out at another good friend. Arina approached Fleur, half-dressed, and offered to help her in the shower. "I said I didn't need anybody's help. God, don't you people listen? And I especially don't want it from you. You'll probably just rub it in my face, you smug little ass!" "I wasn't going to do anything of the sort. I only do that with Lauren." "It's true," she replied, flinging her sports bra off. Fleur snorted and, with great difficulty and some pains, undressed and hobbled into the shower. Arina watched her stubborn defiance with a faint smile of admiration. "Don't tell me you like that A-hole," Kasumi said in disgust. Arina shrugged. "What can I say, her tottering mental state fascinates me." "Oh, thank god!" Lauren gushed. "You only want her for her mind." And people dream dreams that transcend time Held in the arms of a still sea As they looked up at the birds and clouds It set their ephemeral souls on fire on a thousand mornings I bet they're taking flight to where the light is headed Now is the time to launch your dreams Off into the frontier that is carrying boundless dreams Farther and farther, dive in the sky "The Time Between" True to her word, once she was dressed and had left the locker room, Kasumi sought out Valencia and took her up on her earlier offer. "You remember, right?" she said with a silky smile. "You asked me out on a date, and I said I would once we have the time." "And now we have the time," Valencia answered. "So what would you like to do? I'd like to go dancing somewhere if you don't have any ideas. Not at Out and About, I mean: real dancing." "Like...ballroom dancing?" "If that's your thing. I can teach you if you don't know how." "I'm actually pretty starved," Kasumi said, and her stomach groaned in accord. "Could we go to lunch first, please?" "It is around that time of day, and I guess we need a moment to get the pointless small-talk out of the way. I hope you're not thinking about fast food." "Ugh, no. I ate at Dairy Queen once and got sick as a dog. I'm not lactose intolerant; I just can't eat that processed crap. Somewhere like Arby's and Subway is all right." "What about that Denny's a few blocks away? We could almost walk there." "Sounds great. Uh...you know, this will actually be my first date," she emphasized nervously. "And not only that, but my first date with another woman. I'm not exactly familiar with the protocol." "It's my first date too," Valencia smiled. "I mean in America. You're probably only my fourth or fifth overall." "Jeez, I feel outclassed." Valencia laughed and offered to drive them; Kasumi preferred taking her bike. They parted and met again in front of the restaurant; Kasumi already knew what she wanted. "I'm really craving some chicken fingers. Hey, uh, before we get into this- oh, uh, table for two, please." The restaurant was almost full of people, making it more difficult to find a table. Kasumi actually spotted Elisa, Nadia, and Svetlana secluded in a corner and waved at them. Apparently they all had the same idea. "You are finally being on date, Kazoome? Sugoi!" "Uh, yeah, you could say that. Anyway, I don't want to disturb your meal, so..." "[Introduce us, Nadia!]" Svetlana gestured. "[Are these more romantic conquests of yours, or just friends?]" "[Really, Nana, I'm not a pervert heartbreaker like you. I'm committed. This is Valencia and Kazoome- Ka...su...mi. They're on the team with us.] Kazoome, Valencia, this iz Nana Svetlana." "Yes, hello," she said, reaching out her hand. "You...in game, fantastic!" "Thanks," Valencia smiled. "It was really hard." "Family also watching?" Both ladies shook their heads. Elisa offered to interpret, and Nadia said they were more than welcome to join them, but Kasumi and Valencia refused: they preferred to spend the rest of the day in private. "[Let them do as lovers will,]" Svetlana quipped. They didn't catch this, and Elisa and Nadia didn't feel like interpreting or correcting. Once the two women finally found their seats, Kasumi recalled her original train of thought. "Anyway, as I was saying, I wonder which of us will pay the bill. I mean- " "Oh, that's easy," Valencia waved. "We split it. I pay for my food and you pay for yours." "You have done this before," Kasumi smiled. Valencia sat back proudly. "Far be it from me to impose outdated gender roles on us. It's much more fair this way." "I agree. So tell me about yourself." And so Valencia opened the floodgates, letting a considerable gush of information out as she explained her reason for being: her Spanish origins, her job as a fashion designer- one who never wore her own designs, no less- her social adaptability, her spontaneity, charisma, and flirtatiousness; the lawsuits she had filed against people; her newfound sexuality; her independence; a sister named Marina and a mentor named Adrien Félix; playing the violin; physics and geometry, and the private schools she went to; passion and a love for romance; her defense for friends. She went on and Kasumi didn't dare interrupt. She was staring into another world; she was meeting alien life for the first time. Once Kasumi fancied herself a spectator, but now she was being chosen to participate; she was investing herself in another person. "Whew," Valencia said at the end. She excused herself to visit the bathroom: talking that much made her thirsty. Their food was already there when she returned. And what did Kasumi have to show for her years spent on this stage? Flak for her height, and her bosom; her split family, and her father's boxing, and the poverty she was subjected to, and the dreams she had, which were only recently being realized. She could sing well. She waxed poetic of the fights she got into. There was a romantic inside her. There was a brother Charlie whose birth defects put the Becketts in the red, and a mother she resented who left her husband for other women. She worked in a gay bar using a fake ID. She had been a breath away from being named Grace or Danielle, but was impulsively named after a waitress. She had never been in love and gave her virginity away like a cheap trinket after drinking too much. And she absolutely idolized Rocky Balboa. Above all, the two women had a certain grace about them that allowed them to fake a good dancing skill once the time came. They soon became entranced with each other and realized that as opposite as they were, they had both been seeking a particular lover all of their lives, some figurehead who shone out brighter than the others in their most secretive dreams, and that it was entirely possible for their date to fit this hallowed description. They still refrained from kissing each other at the end- Valencia knew she would swoon and Kasumi knew she would not be able to control herself- but they were more than willing to wait for further opportunities. - Jen Andre, 115 lbs (52.3 kg), English, defensive midfielder- Due to her condition, Fleur was the last one to leave the locker room; even Shannon got finished with her shower sooner. As she struggled to put fresh clothes on, hissing and cringing whenever she so much as brushed against her sprain, she noticed Arina preening in front of a mirror, her narcissistic devotion almost religious. Although such meticulous attention to her appearance paid off- she was, admittedly, one of the prettiest women on the team- Fleur looked down on such obsession. She would have left the girl to herself were it not for academic obligations. "You are sure you don't need any help?" Essylt asked with finality. "Positive. I'm not a child, and you're hardly the kind of person I'd trust to take care of me anyway." "I just needed to be sure," she murmured. Fleur twitched with anxiety as she watched Arina comb, re-comb, powder, plaster, wash, and massage her face. Soon even the subtlest actions became acutely irritating. "Look, it stinks in here, so hurry up." "I'm not forcing you to stay here. I'm just here because it's more private." "I mean about the psychology thing. I can't get it over with while you're standing there like a...a brainless peacock. Hurry up and let's go outside. Nobody gives a damn about your looks." "Calling myself Nobody would enhance the insignificance of my own existence," she muttered. "Then it's settled: I am Nobody. But are we all not meaningless bits of matter wasting our energies on silly pursuits? The struggle for power and social status is a fool's game when compared to the vast potential of time, space, and nature. Humans wallow in their own base stupidity and fear leaving this world without giving proof that they were there. A wasted effort." "I completely agree," Fleur stated. "Now are we getting out of here so we can finish this project or what?" "Are you in a hurry?" Arina said, breaking away from her meditation. The mirror would be lonely. "If you're so enthusiastic about this, you may please wait outside. I'm not finished here yet." "The sooner the better for me," she snorted. Arina finally gave up and abandoned her labors. Fleur was injured and in a bad mood, and she knew better than to test someone in that condition. "Fine, whatever makes you happy. I suppose I'm presentable enough. Still, what an ugly girl." "It's not like I don't understand why you do it," Fleur muttered as she limped out. "Lord knows I don't exactly hurry along in the morning. But there's a difference between caring and obsessing." "I thought you didn't care at all," Arina remarked, smiling wryly. Fleur made an indistinguishable face, something between aggravation and amusement. "I do have a reputation to uphold." Once they were in a better place- outdoors was as good as any, and now that everyone had left, they would have all the time and privacy in the world- Fleur got comfortable and cleared her voice. "Fleur Victoire Lacroix, born November third, twenty years old, French. I bet you're wondering why I go for days at a time without eating- weeks even- then suddenly decide to bulk up for the games. The answer is simple: soccer and my social life are two different worlds, and I have no intention of mixing the two. That's why I don't bother proselytizing any of you to my cliques, nor do I expect my other hangers-on to attend the games. I suppose you could say I'm dipping my toes in two worlds, but I like to keep the distinctions separated and sharp. "Basically, I'm nothing more than a rich girl bored and jaded by the corruption and materialism of my upper class society. I believe human beings to be fundamentally evil, or at least utterly stupid, and since I think all displays of nobility and honor are pretentious, I set out to prove them so. By bullying and humiliating these people, I justify and reassure myself that nothing beautiful exists, and that nothing is admirable. Are you with me so far?" "Quite," Arina replied. She looked like she was having the time of her life. Tottering mental state indeed! "All right, then. The presence of my teammates is something I accept with a sort of...resignation. I train and play with them, but I don't extend a gesture of friendship to anyone other than whom I deem worthy. People deserving my mutual respect are those who either share my social and financial ranking, such as Fausta, Elisa, Freya, and Valencia, or of similar personality, such as Rain and Alice. This might be a source of conflict," she added cattily, "as people might not be willing to trust a right midfielder with an ego problem." "I don't have a problem." "Even though I didn't mention you?" "I didn't think you would," she smirked. Fleur laughed. "I'll put it into consideration. As for my love life, I'd like to say I'm asexual, and I just screw around with whoever I can manipulate, but I suppose I could go for someone as realistic as I myself. I mean, there's not going to be anyone stupid enough to 'love me as I am' or 'stick with me through the end'. That sort of nonsense doesn't happen in the real world. 'Love' is just the word people use when they mean 'power'. For example: I'm stronger than you, so I can get away with it, or you're stronger than me, so I'll stick with you and leech out whatever I can. Still with me?" "Enthralled," Arina said, her voice very pure. "Well then, maybe I should just go with guns blazing," she purred, bringing out her darkest secret: "I've been sexually abused by my father since I was 11, up until my previous school year, when my mother walked in on us. I don't think this abuse traumatized me; rather, it enabled me to open my eyes what people truly are, and at such a young age! The poor bastard gave me anything I wanted to keep me quiet, and I took it- abuse and privilege- very impassively. His incarceration was as emotional to me as a weather report in another country. Oh, on that note, I ousted my first best friend and lover from all social circles by blowing the whistle on her own incestuous activities. I thought I was in love with her, but now, I don't regret a thing. In short, there is no soft, gentle girl underneath my icy shell. My entire being is the icy shell." Arina was half-crazed with wonder as she finished jotting everything down. She had never encountered a mind quite like Fleur's- so frank, so stoic, so nihilistic and perversely pleased- she was as attracted to it as you or I might be attracted to a portrait, or a symphony, or a film, or a favorite novel. The draw for her was not sexual in the slightest, but intellectual and incorporeal; it stoked a fire that had not been warm in ages. "Are we finished?" she asked wearily. "I have things to do. I hope I didn't disturb you too much, Arina dear." "On the contrary," she replied, almost giddy with excitement. "I would like to hear more. Thank goodness we were put together." "It was the luck of the draw," Fleur resigned like a true Stoic. "And we would've done it eventually. Well, I will admit that I learned something fascinating, and I will also admit you're not half as bad as I pegged you to be. But that doesn't mean anything good." "Seems like a tentative respect." Fleur smiled faintly; that answer suited her. - Valencia Durante, 132 lbs (60 kg), Spanish, goalie- Felicity Velur looked horrible when she came into work the next day. Her eyes were wide and bleary, her hair unkempt and ragged, her clothes were disheveled, and her hands rattled; even her voice was a little off tempo. She put her work clothes on numbly, and mechanically started bussing tables, more dead than alive. Nadia and Gardenia noticed immediately, of course, but soon the other employees caught on, and even Robin and Odessa saw a change in her when they stopped by. "Is she okay?" Odessa pointed. "You're not overworking her, are you?" "Are you kidding?" Gardenia muttered. "I gave her the day off yesterday. This is the first time she's worked in a week, ever since the team went into training." "Too much practice, then?" "Well, that was my theory at first, and Nadia thinks so, too. I mean, they all worked hard, but from what I hear, Felicity always tries going the extra mile. I talked to her Coach once, and she swears she isn't forcing her to do this. She's just as concerned as I am." "So why does she push herself like that? Is it really that important to her?" "See, this is why I never got into sports," Robin gestured. Gardenia stared impatiently. "Honey, that's not helping. There's obviously something wrong, but I can't get her to talk to me about it, and Nadia isn't having any luck, either. Normally I'd say it's none of my business, but I can't sit by while someone I like does this to herself. Besides, it's affecting the way she works." "Then you need to perform an intervention. Maybe we should ask her friends on the team and her Coach to help us out." "Good idea. I'll let Nadia in on it. Could you ask your employees- uh, Terra and Fausta, right? And Odessa, you ask that, uh, Kasumi girl, okay?" "Will do, but I think I might have a better idea." "What's that?" "Do you remember me telling you about that dealer that smuggled her goods into my place a few months ago? When I called the police, I was interviewed by this really weird woman. She got the job done, though. Impressed the hell out of me." "Oh yeah, I remember that. But do you think this justifies hiring a private detective?" "You tell me," she said; "you know her better than I do." Gardenia glanced back, watching as Nadia tried in vain to console her distraught friend. In spite of her standoffish nature, Kemper and Khovansky both cared about her, so there was definitely something there that was worth going through so much trouble. "Okay, no question about it. Let's just hope it's nothing disastrous. In the meantime, we'll set up that intervention." "Then I'll get right on it." Odessa left without her usual flirtation, an indication of how serious the situation had gotten. Once she was outside, she found a quiet place and dialed the number that detective had given her. She didn't know Felicity or her situation, but she was Gardenia's friend, and that was good enough for her. A voice on the other end said, "Taskforce Aegis, this is Kokoro speaking." "Hi, could you connect me to, uh...Detective Doyle, please?" "Yes, one moment, please." Agatha Doyle was playing Sudoku when she got a phone call on her company line. She wished she could give her professional number out to more people, but after that "Bloodlust incident", her boss had been adamantly opposed. Oh well; this was nearly as effective, and Kokoro did a fairly good job of screening most of the prank calls. "Taskforce Aegis, Doyle's on the line!" "Detective," she heard the other person say, "you may not remember me, but a few months back, you interviewed me at a nightclub regarding a drug smuggler. Anyway, I- " "No, I remember!" she said, flipping through a notebook until she arrived at the corresponding case. "Odessa Beill, owner of lesbian nightclub Out and About, famous for its Topless Tuesdays and- except for that particular incident- its clean record. The club is located on 59 Gateway Boulevard, two miles from Carnegie University, but you live on 2431 Golden Street, a good half-mile away. As I recall, the perpetrator was apprehended and charged, and she's currently serving time in...oh, drat, I didn't write that part down. That's not like me! Anyway, Miss Odessa, what can Aegis do for you today?" "Actually, I'd just like you to do something," she answered. Odessa was surprised that anybody could remember all those details, but then again, she was dealing with a detective. "There's this friend of a friend who's having some problems, and we'd like to know- " "Well, we do have a psychologist on staff, but I'm not sure if she'll go for it." "It's not that." "We also have a fairly competent medical unit, but again, it might be asking too much." "No, I...I called you, all right? I need your help looking into this!" "No need to get impatient; I just want to make sure we're both clear on the matter. I'm not a psychologist and I'm not a doctor, so if it turned out she had those maladies... Anyway, I'm wasting your time. You're basically asking me to poke around and see if I can't figure out what's causing these problems, right?" "Right. I know it sounds a little underhanded..." "Nonsense!" she laughed. "Happens to me all the time. Anyway, it might be fun to exercise my skills for a case like this. Normally my work involves some life-threatening matter. Uh, this isn't a matter of life and death, I hope?" "That's why I'm asking you to help us. I can't really pay you much- " "Please," she groaned. "I didn't get into this line of work for the money. Just promise to cover a few expenses, maybe treat me to lunch, and we'll call it even. I'll call you once I'm on the road: do we meet in the same place as last time?" "Uh, sure. You know where my office is, right?" "Uh-huh, past the throngs of dancing lesbians and up the elevator to the third floor. I'll see you then." "Thanks. I owe you one, Miss Doyle." They both hung up and Agatha jotted everything down on her pad. Then, wasting no time, she took her phone, her purse, and her Sherlock Holmes outfit (complete with monocle and bubble-pipe), and headed for her boss's office. She knocked once and was let in. "Hey, Miss Josephine! You got a minute? Listen, I'll get right to the point: I'd like some time off so I can look into this new job. Think you could accommodate me?" - Fleur Lacroix, unknown weight (thin), French, right midfielder- Odessa wasn't particularly embarrassed when Agatha came into her office wearing those odd clothes- as a matter of fact, she had seen far stranger things at the O and A. Many of her patrons had fetishes that would put this eccentric woman to shame. She did, however, feel sorry that she didn't know much about the case. "All I know is that the employee of a friend is in some kind of bad situation, and there's more to it than we believe. Her name's, uh...Felicia, I think- no, wait, Felicity. Yeah." "Aaaahhh," she sang, blowing bubbles. "Don't worry about the details. I've had less to work with and managed to succeed. Where does she work?" "A place called the Lily Club; it's just a few blocks away. Um, her manager's name is Gardenia Kemper. I think Felicity's on the soccer team, too. Yeah, she is." "So I'd have more luck talking with Miss Gardenia?" Odessa nodded, and Agatha thanked her for her time. She was already hypothesizing that Felicity's troubles could stem from work, school, or practice, and in a few minutes, she would know for sure. It definitely wasn't her job. The Lily Club seemed like a wonderful place for a weary soul to rest- Agatha certainly had a good time- and since Felicity's condition apparently didn't improve, even with a jovial friend working with her, Agatha had to eliminate that. She didn't want to talk with Felicity herself unless she had exhausted all other resources; she felt the situation would only worsen. Next came her school, and the team, but those turned out to be dead-ends as well. Her classes were appropriate for a young woman with a job and a sport, she was getting good grades, and her Coach promised that, except for a few weeks of "crunch time", their practice schedule was fairly lenient. It was from Leena where Agatha gleaned the most information. "Some of her problems might come from her father," she murmured. "I've never met him in person, but after reading Velur's dossier, I got the impression that he was living vicariously through her. She has so many awards, trophies, ribbons, and plaques that I wouldn't be surprised if she dedicated a whole room to them, but she still acts like she's not good enough. I've heard of parents pressuring their kids to work hard, but this is borderline psychotic. I saw him talking to her after our first practice game, and while I couldn't hear what they were saying, it wasn't exactly a warm conversation. Personally, I think she was excellent, given the circumstances." "Does she try to make friends?" Leena only had to shake her head. "A few of the others seem to like her, though, especially Nazario and Khovansky." "Mm-hmm, I interviewed Miss Khovansky, but I couldn't get very many facts." "Right, she is a little difficult to understand," Leena murmured, smiling faintly. Agatha rubbed her neck casually. "No, I speak Russian. I understood her- she just didn't know very much." "Oh. Anyway, sorry I couldn't be of any help." "On the contrary!" she exclaimed, proudly chewing on her pipe. "Now that I know for sure she can't be suffering due to school or practice, that leaves me fewer possibilities. Once you eliminate the impossible and the improbable, the solution presents itself! I am misquoting him, of course- Sir Arthur Conan, I mean- but those are my thoughts." "Oh? Is there any relation?" "Because we have the same last name?" she smiled. "I'm afraid not. Well, I'll be on my way soon, but don't hesitate to call me if you discover anything else. This is proving to be an intriguing case!" She cackled to herself and walked away; Leena couldn't help but grin at Doyle's utter silliness. Only a real genius could afford to be that eccentric. Samuel Velur, apparently the root of Felicity's anguish, didn't seem like such an awful bloke at first. He could be forgiven for his paranoia when Agatha announced that she was a private detective (she didn't mention Aegis), but he calmed down once he realized she was a few screws short of a toolbox. He even invited her inside, and smiled as he offered her drinks. "I don't drink anything with caffeine in it: turns me normal," she stated. "Root beer or green tea will be fine. Ooh! Anything citrus?" "Um, well, I have some grapefruit juice, if that's what you mean." "Perfect!" Agatha drank a whole glass down before asking a single question. "Whew! Well, I must say, your hospitality is great. But anyway, about while I'm here. To make a long story short, several of your daughter's friends, coworkers, and teammates are showing concern for her...well, I don't know how to put it, but I believe it's some kind of social or emotional deterioration." "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "Well, her work environment is one of the healthiest and most uplifting I've seen, and she's managed to get at least two people who've grown fond of her, and yet she never seems to be in a good mood." "She really should not be working in the first place," he muttered darkly. "Felicity should be concentrating on school and sports." "And that's where I thought the problem was," she announced patiently. "But her academic life is smooth sailing, and her Coach has nothing but praises." "That sounds correct," he agreed, "even though that woman could certainly use her more- and Felicity could work harder." "As could we all. Her Coach thought it might have something to do with the family, so I did a little research and- " "How dare you interfere in my private life!" he roared, standing up as if she had threatened his own mother. Agatha continued undeterred. "- and discovered that you divorced your wife when she was only two years old. Felicity's barely had any contact with her mother her entire life, aside from a few birthday cards. When was the last time they met?" "They've never seen each other since," he grumbled. "I had to file a restraining order on that woman." "But for what purpose? My investigation led me to believe she's an exemplary person. Of course, I haven't actually spoken to her- " "Then how can you decide based solely on what you've seen?" he replied, almost seething with anger. "I've known that woman for many years, and she brought me nothing but disappointments. She would have dragged this family to ruin and wrecked everything I had worked for. I only want my daughter to succeed and become a renowned individual. You don't win at life by being a fifth-rate nobody." "Perhaps, but I still think it's unusual to deny your daughter some visitation with the woman who gave birth to her, especially since she has no criminal background- " "I've heard just about enough from you!" he exclaimed, fighting to keep himself from lashing out. "I would like you to leave my house immediately or I'll call the police and have you arrested!" "Funny thing, that," she squeaked, flipping her Aegis badge open. "I actually work with the police! How about that, huh? But since I don't have any warrants, and I don't want to encourage your temper- and I believe I have sufficient data as is- I'll leave anyway. Call me if you need my help!" "Just leave," he demanded, nearly pushing her out the door. Agatha dusted herself off and, as casually as she could, started blowing bubbles to calm her nerves. "Sheesh, what a dickweed. But he's definitely an interesting case. I wonder what would happen if I threw him in a room with Dr. Baquero. Ha! Nothing good, I'll bet. Welp, onward and upward! This trail won't blaze itself!" And so the hunt continued, Agatha unsatisfied with her results. Sure, it was likely that all of Felicity's torment came from her father, but there was always another side to these cases, and Agatha didn't feel right putting all the blame on Samuel Velur's shoulders. He was really more pathetic than evil, and in time, if she was strong enough, Felicity could overcome him and emerge as the person she was meant to become. No, there was something else to this puzzle, something more elusive, and after countless hours of snooping, digging, interrogating, badge-flashing, and eliminating possibilities, Agatha finally hit the jackpot. "So," she whispered, peering at Felicity's bank statements, "the name of the game is blackmail, eh? Heheheh...eureka!"
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