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Description: SATURDAY NIGHT FIGHT hosts the Blue Legendary Belt contention. Dark revelations and surreality abound. Also, the editor of the match is clearly auditioning for a position on an HBO prestige drama about dragons. (WINNER: Rose)

The SNF Commission certainly draws a wide gamut of bouts ranging from up-and-coming super rookies to the cream of the crop of professional fighting. Even so, it's rare that SNFs see a match quite like this one.

Morrigan Aensland is something of a mystery; she's hardly a public fighter save for a few scattered battles and, most notably, a modest showing at Wolfgang Krauser's World Warrior competition. For her to enter for a belt suddenly should not be too least it wouldn't be if she were not immediately going for such tough competition.

Morrigan steps into the bathhouse from elsewhere. In one moment, she is nowhere to be seen. In the next, her feet fall onto the white tiled floor. She's dressed in a slim black and purple bikini. Closer inspection of what little material that exists shows it to have bats printed on the fabric. Someone is very committed to her theme.

She takes several steps along the tile, threading her fingers through her green before sweeping it back.

Her other hand slips back to tug at her bikini bottom, reducing the ninety-five percent moon to more like...seventy-five.

"Oh, this is nice. I like this."

Where's the competition?

Well she certainly wasn't at the World Warrior.

The film crew had been surrounding the immediate area around one of the soaking tubs where there had been a rather animated conversation, largely in Italian. As it turns out some of the film crew were Italian today, possibly at the request of the less creepy of the mystic people present. It is no doubt no surprise when the result of this is that Rose rises from the bath, steaming, dripping, and without reservation.

She steps forwards then, calling ahead as she raises a hand to wave, "We expected you a bit later! I hope your journey wasn't too arduous."

Rose snaps her fingers with malice aforethought. The makeup people come forward and towel her off, touching up her face as she speaks to Morrigan with a hand on her hip. "Have you spent much time in the baths of Japan? There's quite the enthusiasm here; I suppose they've outdone old mother Rome, in scale and modern scope if not in certain aspects of the grandeur."

The costume woman comes up to attach gauzy wraps and impedimentia that render Rose safe for television, marginally. "Perhaps you can enjoy it afterwards," she muses - "ooh, that's cold -"

"If we don't level the place, anyway!" Rose continues, as the belt is wrapped round her waist and she is handed her scarf, which flares to life in her hands.

She laughs! The makeup people look anxious.

"Oh, am I early? Maybe I got a bit zealous this time. I do like to make an entrance, you know," Morrigan says, raising her fingers to her lips as she considers. "Perhaps I should come back later when you've had time to dress?"

The succubus smiles, tilting her head. "You know, I haven't actually," her slight Scottish tinge bleeds through. "But I do enjoy them in Rome -- not quite that old, of course, but still."

She sweeps her hair back, tilting her hip and resting a hand on it. "In that case, perhaps we should be careful," Morrigan says, looking over the camera crew. "I'd hate to miss out on some fun, later."

COMBATSYS: Rose has started a fight here.

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Rose             0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Morrigan has joined the fight here.

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Rose             0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0         Morrigan

"Hmmmm..." Rose says, tapping her nose with her fingertip. "Are you familiar with how things are done in Rome? Though from how you're standing so gingerly, I'd say you are more familiar with Greek."

What? (One of the makeup people snickers.)

"I'll endeavor not to level the premises," Rose then says as she twists around in a sudden flourish. Her scarf, floating in a psychomagnetic field it would seem, twists round her as she throws a hand forwards with a dynamic gesture, back turned towards the fixed camera as she calls out, "SOUL SPARK!"

Give the people what they want: A huge powerful sphere flying straight at Morrigan's face!!

COMBATSYS: Morrigan blocks Rose's Soul Spark.

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Rose             0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0         Morrigan

"Oh," Morrigan says, reaching down to adjust her top. She takes the front and gives it a tug up, giving the camera a considerable amount of bounce. "I'm afraid I may have missed tae joke there. But I do appreciate tae courtesy, nonetheless." Did she intentionally play up the accent there? Hmmm.

And then there's a sphere of sinister psychic power. Morrigan stands, watching it curiously as it gets dangerously close to her face. There's no movement to block or dodge, one hand still on her hip as the other brushes back her hair.

But then there's a sudden flap and a large, black, and leathery wing is imposed between Morrigan and the Soul Spark, intercepting the blast with a flash of power that drives Morrigan across the tile floor with a slippery skid.

"Oh, yes," Morrigan says, her tongue tracing her lips. "That's the power I sensed. --mm, mostly. There's something different here." She looks up at Rose, her green eyes flashing.

"Tell me, Miss Rose, do you have any siblings? An odd question, I'm certain."

But perhaps not as odd as the wing which snaps and unravels like thread, crawling through the air like a wire before reshaping into a great, four-fingered claw. It threatens to grab Rose by the boob and slam her back against the bathhouse wall.

COMBATSYS: Rose reflects Breast Anguish from Morrigan with Soul Reflect.

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Rose             0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0         Morrigan

COMBATSYS: Rose successfully hits Morrigan with Reflected Breast Anguish.

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Rose             0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0         Morrigan

"Oh," Rose says brightly, "the joke is"

The recording mysteriously loses sound for a couple of seconds here when it's televised and the camera angle abruptly twists around to show something on the wall. Look! It's a painting of Mount Fuji!

The camera comes backwards and shows Rose's extremely dynamic face. Her pouty lips suddenly thin as her eyes blaze at the provocative question from the Scottubus; her eyes narrow; those dramatic eyebrow lines arch upwards. Was this all a work? Just ask the internet marks, if you want to be sure. Before -

Thread swirls forwards and smashes straight towards Rose's left breast. She sucks in a deep breath through her teeth, twists the scarf round, and the claw nonetheless grips downwards with sufficient force and strength --


It halts, the claws on the outside of the scarf. It is close enough to have given her some lift and heft, but no harm, it seems, has been done; and there is shining prismatic light emanating outwards.

"From a certain point of view," she says, coolly. "Why do you ask?"

Tension breaks. The energy heaves under its own mass, sagging, swaying, and BOUNCING down, rebounding off the tile hard enough to discolor the glaze (though the tile is not, itself, moved even one tiny micron), before it rises, spread out, to return the favor fourfold against the succubus before her!

"Surely you're not giving up on me already!"

"Oh," Morrigan says with a wry smile. "That's amusing."

But then there's a dark claw digging into the folds of the infused scarf. The grip tightens as it meets resistance, all before a surge of prismatic power erupts through the claw like a flame through a fuse. It traces its way down the line until finally exploding at the end with enough force that Morrigan launches backward into a pool.

When she rises up it's almost like a vampire from a coffin, cresting out of the water in a t-shape before righting herself properly. Her top floats on the surface of the pool, definitely not attached to her.

"Oh, of course not," Morrigan says, her feet landing on the tile once more. Her fingers trace along her bosom, and suddenly she's covered once more. A stray bat flutters off into the dark corners of the house. "I'm just getting warmed up. That was quite good, though. Very clever."

"Oh, as for the sibling bit, well," Morrigan says, "It's like--" Morrigan taps her chin. "You know what they call 'deja vu'? I'm feeling a bit of that now, I think."

Morrigan kicks off the tile, suddenly clearing closing the distance between them in an instant. There seems to be a trail like a jet behind her as she flies past Rose, springs off the wall, and then crashes back toward her in a spin. Her shadow bends and weaves, twisting around her feet in a cloak of wing that swiftly becomes drill as she aims to try into the back of the Italian.

COMBATSYS: Morrigan successfully hits Rose with Valkyrie Turn.
- Power hit! -

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Rose             1/-----==/=======|=------\-------\0         Morrigan


Rose tosses her hair with a roll of the neck.

She steps forwards, hand resting on her hip. It is done with malice aforethought, despite a lack of heels, because Rose, while ridiculous and at times ostentatious verging on questionably appropriate for the audience of the Saturday Night Fight - though, of course, she does drive ratings, which is why she gets in easily whenever she needs to balance her checkbook -

Is not THAT arrogant.

She is not smiling, though, and the strut is almost an afterthought, a half-ignored mask. "What an interesting thing to say," Rose says, a bit distantly, even if her eyes are anything but distant.

"When did you have this... encounter?"

AND THEN: SLAM! Struck past her, Rose is forced to spin around with sufficient force to threaten to dislodge a pasty. Shortly thereafterwards she is hit from behind, thrown forwards, right into that same disturbed pool of steamy water. "Kuh!" she cries out.

She lands. She sinks.
he water begins glowing.

COMBATSYS: Rose gathers her will.

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Rose             1/-======/=======|=------\-------\0         Morrigan

"Oh, I'd hesitate to call it an encounter," Morrigan says, her wings unfurling from around her feet after they've met the small of Rose's back. The succubus practically floats down until her feet slap against the floor. She straightens up with a slight bounce before her nails part her hair again. One of her headwings twitches ever so slightly.

"Think of it like when someone gets in the bath with you," Morrigan says, stepping across the tile and approach the pool where Rose is still submerged. She seems unconcerned with whether she's heard--the cameras can hear her, but perhaps she expects Rose to hear here through darker, more sinister means. The succubus continues her advance, working her index and middle fingers of each hand in the seat of her bathing suit, tugging it out, then running her hands along the curve to smooth it out. She gives it a bouncy slap with both palms before stepping into--no onto--the water.

"When someone gets into a calm bath, it disrupts the pool. The more--substantial, the person, the bigger the ripple."

"That one like you caused quite a ripple, you know." Morrigan smiles, then looks at her nails. "Though maybe not the usual kind. I was scrying, if you must know."

Morrigan gingerly lifts her foot off the water and then suddenly slams down the her heel. The pool seems to wash forward like a tidal wave, an all-consuming deluge of water that flees the site of impact there and sweeps across the room, filling everything in its wake.

This may be less startling for Rose as it would be for some.

COMBATSYS: Rose blocks Morrigan's Medium Throw.

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Rose             1/=======/=======|==-----\-------\0         Morrigan

The water ripples away from Rose and reveals her, sodden and mostly nude. She rolls to the side and looks over her shoulder towards Morrigan then, and she rises upwards, turning to step up where the water has swept around, because despite still steaming and, to all appearances, engulfing the television crew, Rose knows what it REALLY is.

And yet.

"Exposing me like this is rather embarrassing, you know," Rose tut-tuts, shaking her head once. "Even for someone like me it's psychologically difficult. It isn't so much the exposure in and of itself, as it is that it's exposure that I myself didn't undertake... you know?"

She sweeps her hair with one hand. It obeys gravity even as Rose keeps walking up, stepping carefully onto the ceiling of the bathhouse.

"To address your question instead of relentlessly focusing upon myself," Rose says, lifting her head to look down at Morrigan, "I ask this because to my understanding, this person who you mention died. Not merely died, but died quite emphatically at the hands of a demon who was himself subsequently slain; not just slain, but slain in a hell dimension where souls flew like fungible assets, where blood and kombat reigned."

You can hear the 'k'.

"So before you ask me another ellipsis, I'd like to ask," and here Rose reaches down to clap her hands over either of Morrigan's headwings with a singing ripple of Soul Power, "/When/ you had this scryed experience, and /where/ you intended to look - fair enough?"

The water starts to get smoother. Faceted, almost.

COMBATSYS: Rose successfully hits Morrigan with Soul Fade.
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~

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Rose             2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0         Morrigan

"Oh, my apologies," Morrigan says, sweeping her hair back as the water walls them in. "That was a bit forceful on my part. I think I was lost in the moment." The succubus rolls her neck as Rose turns it into a dialogue. "And you are an appealing specimen, to be fair. I'm sure you hear that quite often."

"But yes," Morrigan says, "that was my understanding as well. An ignoble defeat and a terrible fate for the great dictator. Such is the rise and fall of all empires." Morrigan shrugs innocently.

"But let us just say I was looking into an investment of mine just a few days ago--you know, one of those regular check-ins, I'm sure you're familiar."

Morrigan takes two steps closer toward Rose. "But that was certainly the presence I felt. Weak, perhaps, but there. Very strange, wouldn't you agree?"

The water smooths. Morrigan's lips curl as in in discomfort. Her palm goes to her forehead, like someone suffering from a migraine. After a moment, she shakes her head.

"So I came to you. I thought you, if anyone, would want to know--if you didn't already."

A geyser of water erupts from one of the walls, threatening to smash into Rose. "And it gave me an excuse to visit. As I said a moment're quite captivating, you know."

COMBATSYS: Morrigan successfully hits Rose with Soul Fist.

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Rose             2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\0         Morrigan

"I'm not," Rose says, "but I understand where you're going with that."

After that ripple of Soul Power, Rose stays on the roof. The floor? Is it the floor now? Is she looking up at Morrigan? "I see," she says. "How kind of you. Does that mean I can keep the belt?" Which has remained around her waist, but for obvious reasons has not been visually central to how these shots are framed. And then comes the water, smashing into her abruptly.

Rose tumbles. She falls. She bounces once as she slides down the smooth semi-spherical walls of this watery heaven. She leans into the plummet. She tumbles.

Rose strikes the wall.

And the water BURSTS! A thousand by a thousand droplets filling the air, sliding out into a pattern. "Ah," Rose says from somewhere. "Indra's net..."

Are things real again? The angle is entirely different. Rose is reclining in a bath as she was at the start of all of this, the belt resting over her breasts in a slightly compressing way. She has, somehow, acquired a glass of red wine. She sips and raises her free hand to half-veil her lips, laughing~ It's a ringing thing, like silver bells.

The camera crew is in the background.

"They're watching us wrestle," Rose says. "If I've wired things right, you're controlling me and I'm controlling you... isn't that fun? I took some liberties, of course, but I thought you might enjoy that. If it's breaking a boundary, I do apologize, but - well."

Rose sips the wine that isn't real. "You COULD have sent me an email."

In the lower left of the screen:

"Now," Rose says, "prepare yourself."

Indra's Net snaps upwards, Soul Power refracting through the gemlike droplets. Violet, pastel green, pastel blue, topaz... wait...


"Can you beat me to the punch?" Rose says as they begin to fall towards where Morrigan has been placed. They come down two by two in a steady pace, and guided by a lambent inner highlighting glow, silmaril-bright and -- wait, is that a Soul Spark?

Something like that.

"You're a bright lady; I'm certain you'll catch on quickly!"

COMBATSYS: Rose successfully hits Morrigan with #Soul Satellite#.
- Power hit! -

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////                      ]
Rose             0/-------/-------|=======\====---\1         Morrigan

"Maybe," Morrigan says, hand on her cheek. "It does seem like a draw for rather interesting characters. It might be nice to alleviate my boredom." She continues to watch Rose on the ceiling, waving her hand as the water recedes again.

"Oh, yes. This is quite interesting. It's difficult to find good playmates for such things, you realize," the succubus smiles subtly. "You have a particular talent, I think. A lot of practice? Perhaps both. In any case..." Morrigan's eyes move to the corner. "I prefer the personal touch, you know. Electronic mail is so ... impersonal."

Morrigan springs off, her wings unfurling as she ascends and as Rose falls. There's a brilliant, translucent flash in a symphony of color and then everything goes white for a moment.

Morrigan tumbles across the tile floor, rolling a few times before splatting into a pool of shadow and blood. It bubbles, roils, and then Morrigan rises from it, seated on the ground.

Or does she? In any case, she traces a line of blood along her mouth with her nail, looking at it.

"Mmm, that was clever. Perhaps a little too clever. But since you showed me such a trick--how about this, in return?"

Morrigan balls her fist and exhales deeply into it. When she opens her palm a pink heart floats through the air toward Rose.

COMBATSYS: Rose deflects #Eternal Slumber# from Morrigan with Soul Reflect.

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Rose             0/-------/-======|>>-----\-------\0         Morrigan

Her jewelled assault is perhaps too clever by half, but Rose finishes her wine even so. With a pah she throws the glass aside.

"Oh, my; breathing heavily. What a potent power," she says, leaning forwards and unfastening the Blue Belt from where it has been steadily appreciating in value to a certain collector audience. Then it crackles with power - for her scarf, the familiar yellow cashmere, has intertwined with it!

She snaps it upwards to the heart. The belt buckle means the effect is slow - there's a half second where it rises - but soon enough it touches the actual fabric, and that seems, like the algorithm, to be the key. With a sparkle, the heart turns a deeper violet shade and flicks its way back towards Morrigan.

"Ciao!" Rose calls, gaily.

The belt--and the cashmere--impact with the fluttering heart with a snap and crackle of Soul Power. After their clash, the heart is launched back toward Morrigan, whose eyes widen at its approach. It collides with the succubus with an explosion of power, driving her back into the wall.

"Well," Morrigan says grumpily, "I suppose I have to concede." And as she says it, she seems to dissolve into a wave of bats and shadow, disappearing from the bathhouse with the same mystery with which she appeared.


"Oh, very well done, Ms. Rose. Quite a bout!" The applause comes quickly after the fight concludes. "Spectacular! I thought that last attack might have had you, but it seems not! Congratulations on your belt defense." A well-built Japanese man--the proprietor? Someone from the SNF committee? He is certainly enthusiastic. "Please, have a rest though. You deserve it. Did someone tell you about the prize yet? I mean, we didn't just pick this venue for the scenery, of course. Inviting two ah, beautiful combatants to our establishment for a championship bout seemed like the perfect opportunity for promotion."

He smiles pleasantly at Rose, rubbing his hands together. "You will give us a review if we give you free access to the full, five-star accomodations, won't you? I mean, you've already done so much by having the fight here."

Rose, for her part, seems to take this as her due. She smiles as Morrigan vanishes, and when the crew applause finishes, she rises out of the water and accepts another round of patting down. The Japanese man is given a brilliant smile.

"Oh, yes; I'm certain that it was excellent for your... promotion," she says, handing off her wine glass as she is draped in a carmine silk robe and given some more silk with which to secure herself in the classical Japanese-underthings sort of way.

"The /full/ /five/ stars? My dear fellow," she says, with portent, as her shoes are presented and she steps into them, "You had me at FOUR stars." And with that she winks at him.


For some reason Rose, still in her robe, is taken out the back entrance. The alleyway behind the bathhouse, normally holding only crates of surplus Faiblesse-brand prophylactic contraceptives and leftover cleaning supplies, now has a sleek black car, something that resembles a limousine trying to be discreet.

The door is being held open by a shapely young woman in a suit that manages to suggest something military without being *explicitly* so, as well as a diamond pattern of four stars on the left breast pocket. Black stars. The woman is also wearing a balaclava for absolutely no good reason. "Madame," the woman says, gesturing into the car.

Rose slides in.

"Your flair, madame," the woman says, passing Rose a tasteful silver bracelet with that same four-black-stars jewel pattern as she steps in.

"Oh, of course!" Rose says, examining it briefly and then slipping it on.

The driver, a man similarly clad (complete with balaclava), pulls out of the alleyway and merges into the Tokyo night traffic.

"Then," Rose says with a sly smile in her voice, "it's to be the /full/ accomodations."

"mm" "heh!" say the two people who have the distinct air of GOONS. The black jewels on Rose's new bracelet gleam violet-pink for a moment.

The door thumps closed, leaving Rose in the plush leather seating of the limousine. As it pulls off into the evening, the ride is smooth, like a cloud. A bottle of champagne sits on ice in the seat before her, as does a tray of exquisite petit-fours. Is that Swiss chocolate as well?

"That was quite the fight, Madam," comes the voice of the driver. A distinctive billed cap sits in shadow on the dashboard next to him. "Though I never had any doubts."


The walkway through the luxury hotel is a sea of pristine glass, marble, and gold. Staff walks Rose past the front desk, past the lobby, to an elevator down a side hallway. The bellhop on the elevator is also wearing black stars, and an inexplicable balaclava.

The elevator opens to something like a penthouse--a long, sweeping chamber with a luxurious high-backed seat in the center. It rotates to face her, as if doing so expectantly.

"My, my," Rose says. "You've really outdone yourself, Number Fourteen."

Rose pops the cork of the champagne without using her thumbnail. There is only trivial remains of the repast by the time that they arrive, and Rose has to dab her mouth lightly and make No. 14 (who seems to be the lady) touch up her lipstick before she proceeds. Yes, she was wearing lipstick in the bath. Do you not?

Click, click, click, click, click -

"Thirty-two, what a surprise," Rose says to the elevator attendant as she slides in, though as the door closes she seems to be looking around with genial curiosity.

"Would you have preferred 69, ma'am?" the attendant asks as the elevator springs to life. After the departure from the elevator, Rose is met with two more black-starred, balaclava-wearing Numbers when she arrives. They both salute her, then move to her sides. "Your coat and scarf, madam?" They ask, steering her toward a side corridor. "We thought you'd like to clean up and dress for the occasion?"

What follows is a detour through a side corridor. A rack on the side serves as a mount for Rose's wardrobe, and a bin sits there for jewelry. What follows after that is a shower, then a steam bath, then a chance to towel off before the dressing room.

Two ladies are waiting inside and wearing what has become the standard uniform at this point. One is holding some sort of black bodysuit--is that armor? It looks like it could be. The other is wearing some variety of regal uniform, or at least the pants and coat thereof. It is red and silver.

"Would you like some assistance, ma'am, or should we give you your privacy?" One asks, her back turned to Rose.

"Later, actually," Rose says during the elevator ride. "Call her off shift and tell her to shower this time..."

As the elevator opens, Rose muses, "Actually, don't."

She steps forwards. Sliding out of her garments with casual ease, she says to one of them, "I've been taking this off so many times. Here, do take care of this belt, would you? It's very... important." And then she detours through, rinsed again, washed, pampered.

"Pfah," she says. "Why, thank you - here - Hnngh! Zip me up in the back," she tells one of the ladies. Meanwhile she climbs into the pants, which, as it would turn out, are really more like slim-line red leather chaps with a swooping connection to the belt that is so strongly evocative of a garter belt that you really ought to just say 'it's dominatrix leather gear'. As she tightens it and strokes the four-diamond shape on the belt buckle, she allows herself to be jacketed up, though it too is more notable for a lack of material than anything.

"You there," she says to the one who offered assistance. "Rub my back for me, just for a moment."

"Of course, ma'am," the attendant gives her a brief salute, but does not speak further. After Rose has had some time to clean up and start suiting up, the two attendants in the dressing room are called into action. The first moves to help with the zipper. She hunkers down, taking the zipper at the seat of the body suit and giving it a tug. She gets it halfway up Rose's rear before she meets enough resistance that it takes her a moment to try and work it.

She is interrupted in her efforts by the request for a back rub, standing up straight and wrapping her hands around Rose's shoulders. She works them with the skill of a well-practiced masseuse, working from the shoulders to the blades, and then down Rose's back.

As she works, there's a brief feeling of pressure on Rose's chest, like the air is heavy. It's a straight sort of weight, but brief.

"Is this suitable, ma'am? Please tell me if I'm rubbing too hard."

There isn't much straight about that, all told.

"You're not rubbing hard enough," Rose murmurs over her shoulder. She puts her hands on the wall nearby and arches her back. "Press! I want to hear it!" And she watches over her shoulder, while asking the other one, "Anything new to report...?"

The attendant moves in closer, digging her fingers into Rose's back, working the muscle. Her grip is intense, but not unpleasant. She's practically on top of Rose with her intensity. She applies an elbow, working until there's a pop.

"Numbers meet all expectations. Troop movements are on schedule." A pause. "Also the chef wishes to know your lunch order, and when it should be sent along. Will you be taking an afternoon siesta, or should I have the full reports sent up?"

Rose's back produces a rich, languid pop that sends shivers all throughout her.

"It's funny you say 'sending up,'" Rose muses, "given all of this. I'm deeply impressed. You've put something magical together here, and you'd do anything further, wouldn't you? Until things struck... It's so realistic! Of course," she says, chin on her own shoulder, "I did lead you on a little, I must admit."

Looking downwards over herself, she says, "My, my. What you must think of me."

Then she kicks off, suddenly and emphatically, throwing her weight backwards in an R-Mika-esque peach slam that is aimed to smash Backrub Goon into the girl who's been there and probably preparing to cycle an animation or wander off and live her own illusionary psychic life. Rose reaches backwards to touch the second woman as a momentary sandwich is formed -

She erupts in psionic light -

And Rose muses, "Just how far would you have gone..."

somewhere, there is a shout of

s o u l r e f l e c t


and Rose sits bolt upright from where she had been thrashing around on the tile floor! A cameraman is crawling out of the water, spluttering, as her eyes focus on everyone.

"Three count," says the strong-jawed promoter. He is holding a bath bucket in front of himself. "We'll uh - we'll work with you on the... narration. Signal difficulties. You both signed the release forms."

Rose, slowly, raises her hand into a tentative V-sign. Victory... and retention!?

But now she knows far too much to take joy in it.

COMBATSYS: Rose has left the fight here.

[                          \\\\  <
Morrigan         0/-------/-----<<|

Log created on 19:25:37 05/15/2018 by Rose, and last modified on 18:25:22 05/22/2018.