Weekend Edition 2

Weekend Edition - Part II

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Knock. Door. Someone."

"Someone was knocking at the door."

That was Claire's first coherent thought as she slowly stirred awake. Picking herself up off the floor, taking care not to knock anything over with her tail, she took a moment to peel something off her face. An index card--one of the ones she used to keep tabs on her various leads. She flipped it over and silently read the name on the back.

"Yeah, that makes sense."

She sniffed the card, her hand, and the air around her and detected the distinct aroma of sweat and--well they say monsters don't feel shame but--

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Whoever was at the door was getting rather impatient. There was also another, much fainter scent seeping in from outside that made her feel uneasy. She huddled over to the door and took a peek through the peephole.

"Mr. Bradley? Now's not a good..."
"Claire! Thank goodness!"
His voice was somewhere between exasperation and exhilaration.
"I mean...good to hear you're still awake. Get yourself decent and meet me in front of the Order barracks in... I'll give you to half-past."
"Did something happen."
"No time to explain. I'm sure you can figure things out on the way there. Let's just say I'll need all hands on deck for this one."
"Understood, sir!"

Claire's ears twitched about, picking up the familiar sound of uneven footfalls as Mr. Bradley headed off down the hall. She then turned back to her apartment and contemplated how best to approach this. Her eyes first came to the ring on the ground, and an uneasy feeling welled up inside her.

"No. Not again."

In truth, Claire hated wearing that ring. Being bottled up like that and forced to be something she was not, it was almost painful. She must have forgotten to take it off after the interview with the Colonel--she only bothered with the trinket if she had to go somewhere she knew the Order was watching closely. Yes, she had completely forgotten to take it off, and that would explain her absolutely dreadful mood this past week. And going back, while exhilarating, made her remember just why she hated that damn thing. It had a weird power about it, always making it seem safer to keep it on once she was wearing. Well, from here on out she wouldn't be wearing it unless it was absolutely necessary.

With that settled, Claire set about preparing herself for tonight's escapades. She strolled over to the icebox, pulled out a bottle of white fluid, emptied some of its content into a small glass, and down the drink in one go. Holstaurus milk, imported, a gift from a good friend. Never failed to perk her up. She wiped her lips with a smirk, feeling the energy coursing through her. Just that much should be enough to keep her going to sunrise.

Next, was her wardrobe. After first slipping into a lacy black bra with a clasp fashioned after a sleepy cartoon goat--because, her breasts were noticeably larger without that ring and she needed to take precautions--she put back on the button-up and vest from earlier. Next came her white slacks, slipped on one leg at a time, the tufts of fur giving way as if they were never even there. Claire bit her lip as she slid the garment over her pantie-clad bum, even though her tail had already disappeared. Maybe she was expecting more of a sensation?

Next came the shoes, slipped on like a glove. She giggled a bit a such a cliché remark. It really was some excellent craftsmanship, how they seamlessly blended with her feet, the fur fashioning itself into knee socks.

Her hat was quite a prize too. She twirled it around in her hands, setting it down just to slip on her white jacket, before picking it right back and putting it square on her head. She opened her eyes in front of the mirror, taking note of how her ears had moved back to the sides of her face, and any hair still visible had gone back to matching her human form. Then, with a gracious pose, she removed her hat and unveiled her fuzzy ears, the human ones now disappearing in but an instant. She practiced the motion in front of the mirror a few more times before switching her focus to her tail. This took a bit more focus since it relied more on her own mana than any enchanted garments. She tried her best to time it to a jut of her hips, so her prized fluff would reveal itself with a satisfying pomf. Lastly, combining her efforts together, she practiced removing the disguise all at once. Removing her hat in one fluid movement, she struck an exaggerated pose like magician making a grand entrance, her tail on full display in the mirror. She even gave her breasts a jiggle--yes, they were certainly larger when she lifted the hex on the bra.

Claire glanced at the wall clock back in the main room. She had already burnt through half her time. With a bit of a scramble, she cleaned up the cards from earlier and stowed away. She picked up a pen and pad from the table and slipped them into her jacket, then gave the apartment one last survey before strolling over to the window, opening the blinds, and unhooking the latch. Sliding the pane up with some effort, she maneuvered her body through and out the opening, grabbing the ledge of the sill and letting herself hang will the pane slid back down. It couldn't really be locked from this side but it wasn't like anyone could get in this way. Except her, of course.

Planting her feet on some fixtures jutting from the wall, and feeling around for uneven parts of the stone work, she quickly made her way up the side of her building with the ease and dexterity one might expect from one of her species. Once she scrambled up the shingles and on to more-even footing, she paused to get her bearings and set her sights towards the Order barracks. That's when she saw it.

"Ah. That makes sense."

The eerie crimson glow and foul stench in the air had been evident from the moment she heard the knocking. She had already guessed it was something like this, but she was in the business of fact-finding, so confirming it for herself carried a special meaning. Yes, she could see it clearly now.

On a warm summer night, in the waning days of the moon, the Order barracks at Dammerung were on fire.

Her instincts kicked into overdrive, taking in every aspect of the scene before her. How the crackling flames illuminated the sides of streetlamps and stalls closed for the night, themselves now casting bizarre, shifting shadows. An officer barked orders to her subordinates. A man clutched his chest in panic. A lone guard stood entranced by the blaze. And all the while the masses gathered to watch the excitement from a safe distance. They could only guess how much it would affect them personally.

Claire spied Bradley amongst them, and shimmied down a pole to join him at street level. He glanced at his pocket watch and smiled.

"Right on time, Claire."
"Orders, Captain?" she smirked.
"Same as always. We find the truth and tell it to the world."

What followed was several hours of intense work without rest. Claire and the other journalists fanned out amongst the crowd, doing their best to get eyewitness accounts of the events and establish a timeline.

"Just finished unloadin' the last shipment for the evenin' and I smell't smoke."
"A bomb tosser, must be. See that broken window?"
"Nah, didn't hear no blast. Fire but no blast."
"You deaf old hag! There were two blasts clear as day! Bang-bang!"
"First thing I saw were the soldiers in the street. Soldiers first, then flames."

"The Order beat us here, of course. It's their building, after all. We're doing our best to keep things contained, put out the fire, and search for anyone still trapped, but they handled the initial response."

"We will get to the bottom of this." - Baron Dammerung
"Dammit son..." - Guard Captain Stills

Information was gathered, sorted, and consolidated at the office as the editors wracked their brains around how to proceed. Normally, revise, reformat, and reprint was the order of the day, and a second run would be circulated through town before noon tomorrow. But this was the Weekend Edition. News traveled fast in town, but the Frontier was another matter. The first run of the paper was all printed and ready to go, meaning anything not in it would be just rumor and hearsay in the country for a week or more.

Perhaps a special insert added the entire first run? But in this business, page space was worth more than gold. Bradley did the numbers in his head and frowned. The Order, the bastards, had commandeered the Post's telegram by the time he reached the office--theirs having gone up in smoke and Kirk busy using his to yell at an entirely different sent of people. That meant no wiring Meyer that the bills would be a bit more painful this time around. Bradley was calling the shots tonight. He trembled at his own power.

The door chimes sounded. He thought he saw Claire step in and then out. A scrap of paper made its way around the office. He snatched it and read it for himself. Chills went down his spine. He felt faint for a moment, but pushed on through sheer willpower. He set the paper on the table before the other editors and then, calmly and clearly, made the announcement.

"Everyone, listen up..."

This was big. This couldn't wait. He decided they'd have to print the insert and eat the costs. If they all went belly up, at least it would be as newsmen.

The hours passed by in a blur of activity. Layouts, editing, formatting. Typesetting, printing, bundling.

The content was simple enough. A general overview of the facts. Statements from the Order and town leadership. The most important event: the premature passing of Commander Dale Johnson of the Order.

That name didn't mean much to common folk, even in the city, but the consequences of his passing needed to be made clear or why even have a paper? To that end, a special article was added to the insert: Claire's interview and her account thereof, just as she wrote it over the course of the week.

The couriers arrived on schedule at 2 AM, and the entire office gave a jubilant cheer--no doubt using the last of their strength--after meeting their deadline. After seeing off the last batch of papers, Bradley ran into Claire on the streets near the barracks. She had been trying to get a word with a lone guard standing just outside the Order's cordon. She wasn't having much luck, so she went to join her superior.

"Sir, that article was just me writing down what he said and talking about him. Where's the insight? The facts?"

He paused in thought, then smiled.

"It's funny, when you think about it."
"How is any of this funny to you?"
"Plain words and reactions. Sights translated to prose."
"Hmm?"
"They're the truest facts you can hope for, understand?"
"Not...really."
"Well, then just pretend I was talking to myself."

Her boss was an odd man, no doubt, but that's an investigation for another day. The sun would be up in a few hours, and Claire wanted to get a few winks in before then.

"Goodnight sir."
"Goodnight Claire."


***

"I can only go off of what he told me, but it sounds like a dead end."

"Really, now?"

It had been just over a week since that fateful night. The embers had been stamped out and the new moon had come and gone. Even so, questions swirled about what had happened and why. Claire had been working her sources the best she could trying to get to the bottom of it, but had no luck so far.

"Yes, really. I keep telling you: it was either a real accident or you'll need to think bigger."

During this fine morning, she was having an early brunch with one such source of hers. She was an odd sort, prone to lies of omission when discussing sensitive matters--no telling how much contraband flowed through this city under her watch--but she was on the whole a trustworthy albeit anonymous source if the body count started picking up.

"Any luck reaching that Order investigator?"

"Stop making it sound like I'm doing this for...us...and well...with the Order I'm..." Claire began twiddling with her fingers while her friend quickly took notice of what she was trying to gesticulate.

"Ah yes, of course! Going back after a while is certainly quite the rush, but nothing beats being true to yourself, right? Besides, you didn't really plan on getting that man of yours as a human, right? Uhuhuhu~u!"

"H-how did you know about that?"

"Oh please, you think you're the only one who reads the advice column? Asking for help from your own co-workers, though...and people say I've got balls!" She gave another laugh as Claire's blush intensified.

"Anyway, while you were at Descartes', did you see that floor manager? Talk about ruggedly cute!"

"I thought you already decided on your boss?"

"Oh come on Claire! He has a nice ass. Can you really blame a girl for admiring a nice ass? Maybe I want my dumpling to have a nice ass, and I'm looking for inspiration?"

In addition to being a wealth of insight and information on business going-ons in Dammerung, Reiko was also a long-time personal friend of the intrepid journalist. So perhaps it was a friendly form of teasing that she always seemed to flaunt her good looks, feminine airs, and gracious fortune to be in a long-term relationship with a man who had no issues with what happened when she got a little too excited after taking off that gold-leaf hairclip--one notably styled after a gold leaf, in fact.

Unlike Claire, Reiko had a natural talent for disguising herself as a human, so even if the occasional street urchin tried pilfering it for a quick buck, she could run them down and take it back all without giving herself away. That said, perhaps the Order really was too fat and stupid to look into it, or perhaps they were perfectly willing to take her excuse of an ethnic symbol of good fortune at face value. Nothing tipped the scales quite like the threat of having all your dirty secrets on display in the paper. Yes, being the secretary, primary book keeper, and doting girlfriend of one of Dammerung's most pre-eminent financiers certainly came with its share of perks.

Which was not to say it wasn't without its limits. Even with her skewed sense of values, her shadier clients knew not to test her morality too far.  As such, when Claire came looking for answers, the best she could do was point her in the direction of any remaining members of the old underground from the bad days, hoping one of them had heard of a contract arson during this half of the decade. Reiko knew most of the town was on edge even more than usual, after such a brazen act meant not only increased Order attention, but also an entirely new class of Order stooges to hide the good china from while they bumble about. Furthermore...

"Claire, dear?" Reiko said after a long taste of her fruit parfait.

"Yes Rei?"

"Did you happen to get a letter last week?" She scanned the patio and surrounding streets for anyone in a uniform or otherwise looking in their direction.

"I get many letters."

"Not in the mail...just...did you get a letter?"

Realization dawned on her, as she almost felt her real ears perk up underneath her hat. A small envelope slipped under her door the night of the fire. She only found it again and finally tore into it just a few days ago.

"Yes, I did get a letter. 'See you soon. -B,' right?"

"You know who B is, right?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh come on, Claire! I know you aren't that good with magic--beyond general theory and fashion augmentation--but I'm sure you could at less sense the mana after you opened the envelope!"

"I give up. Who's B?"

"B is for..."

"Eh...?"

"B-boss...your boss..."

No sooner had Claire registered those words than she spun around to see Mr. Bradley heading her way with his trademark gait and usual stern expression.

"Good morning Claire, and good morning to you too, the future Mrs. Morrison."

"Oh stop it, he hasn't even proposed yet!"

"Well, Claire, I was planning to let you know once you came in to the office but... seeing as I had some business on the other side of the river, it would be easier to tell you now rather than leave you dead in the water waiting on me."

"What's this about, sir?"

"Well, I know I've gushed enough over that interview you did with the late Colonel, but...people...our readers...have really taken an interest in things."

Claire had a sudden sense of dread. "You want me to do more reporting on the Order?"

"Oh no. I meant that there's growing interest in the future of our city. What with how Johnson was talking about the Order and Dammerung, I thought it might be interesting to do an article on another group with some, shall we say, different ideas."

"You want me to interview the Baron? I thought he was fine with the current state of affairs."

"Not the Baron. You see, there's a small group of people here making the case to experiment with self-rule, without input from the Order. My friends on the Board wanted me to send someone to look into it, and I thought it would make a great article. And given your track record, I think you're just the woman for the job."

"R-really? I don't know what to say!"

"No need to say anything! Just weigh anchor and get to work. Full steam ahead!"

Claire was overwhelmed at being given such an interesting assignment once again. Even though she wanted to still focus on the fire investigation, she couldn't hold back her excitement over being given this task by Mr. Bradley himself.

"Ah yes, before I go, the leader of this little group is the young Mr. Fields. I believe you and Alan have already met?"

Claire's heart, already working overtime, suddenly came to a screeching halt.

"If you hurry, you could set up a meeting with him as early as this afternoon. Well, with that I'm off!"

With a wave, Bradley began heading back the way he came before turning in the direction of the bridge. Reiko gave a dainty display of applause at her friend's good fortune, all the while wondering if Claire would start foaming at the mouth, or simply collapse on the floor. She got her answer moments later with a thud.