Home > Art, Stories > TURBULENCE: Operation 1, Chapter 2

TURBULENCE: Operation 1, Chapter 2

September 29, 2009 Leave a comment Go to comments

Well, after an excessively long delay, I’ve finally gotten round to finalising the second chapter of the TURBULENCE story. 🙂 This arc of the story is actually fully planned out, I just fail at motivating myself to write. xD

This chapter goes back one day and begins to explain the events leading up to Mia’s surprise meeting with Mr. Osway. It also introduces a second member of TURBULENCE: Kawinly! We’ll get to grips with her somewhat… unusual personality and see a few glimpses of her past exploits as well.

All right, I won’t hold you up any longer with the commentary. Read! If you can stand my low grade writing that is. 😛

Business District, Neopia Central – 24 Hours Earlier

It was a fine weekend, atmospherically speaking, in Neopia Central’s eastern district. People were going about their business, children were playing in the parks, the bees were buzzing, the birds were singing, and the sun was shining brightly (at least, it was shining as brightly as it could shine through several hundred metres of dense industrial smog). It was the kind of weekend universally enjoyed by thieves, when just about anybody with anything worth stealing would be out and about and paying a little less attention than usual to their surroundings.

On this particular day, a band of three Draiks (self-styled brigands and the dominant local menace) were on the trail of their next potential victim. Their target was an unimpressive Baby Shoyru, floating idly along at waist height down the area’s main street. The Shoyru’s bright, radiant face and zigzagging flight path expressed the happiness of a soul without a care in the world. This was because, well, most baby pets don’t have a care in the world (apart from eating, throwing up, sleeping, bawling incessantly, and relieving themselves on the nearest babysitter). What the band of thieves was more interested in, however, was the respectably sized bag the Shoyru was carrying. People rarely carry bags larger than themselves unless they contain something important.

As a matter of fact, this should have been the thieves’ first warning. Unfortunately for them, they decided to see it as an opportunity. Now, contrary to popular belief, there is actually honour among thieves. Most thieving communities have a basic system of right and wrong, based not on positive moral influences, but rather on a sense of perceived toughness. The gangs in this part of Neopia Central figured that the tougher you were, the nicer you could afford to be. Being the toughest thieves in the neighbourhood, the band of Draiks would definitely not be caught dead robbing a Baby Shoyru on any good day. This, however, was far from a good day. When a world’s entire economy goes down the tubes, even thieves suffer the consequences.

So the three muggers split up, spread out, and moved towards their mark from different directions. They caught up with the Shoyru at the entrance to an alleyway – a perfect staging point. Grinning wickedly, they closed in around her, brandishing an assortment of improvised weapons: iron bars, pan lids, crowbars, even a wooden stake. It wasn’t exactly an armoury, but you don’t need sophisticated missile systems to win a street fight.

The Shoyru noticed her assailants immediately – it’s somewhat hard to miss three towering Draiks advancing confidently towards you with hostile intent. Her expression fell, and so did she, dropping herself gently to the ground (but landing the bag rather awkwardly). She glanced around and spotted several nearby pedestrians – pedestrians who were pretending not to notice what was going on. That was another thing thieves liked about outdoor days: bystanders felt less inclined to intervene.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” inquired the Shoyru. Her voice was expectedly childish, but it was also unconcerned and carried undertones of maturity. That should have been the thieves’ second warning – as it was, the hint sailed clear over their heads.

“Oh, no problem at all.” answered one of the Draiks, leaning casually against a street lamp. “Just hand us what’s in the bag, and we’ll be on our way. A clean transaction, no mess. How’s that sound?”

The Shoyru tilted her head and considered the proposition. Every now and again, her wings twitched slightly – in flying Neopets, this is generally a sign of tension.

After six twitches, the lead Draik began tapping a foot impatiently. “Well, come on. Pony up. We haven’t got all day, have we guys?”

“No, we don’t,” explained another member of the band, his grin growing wider, “’cos we got lotsa stuff to buy.”

“Yeah.” chortled the last crook. “Lotsa stuff.”

The gang laughed like that was the most hilarious thing they had ever heard.

“Seriously?” asked the Shoyru, raising an eyebrow.

The leader’s grin failed to diminish. “Yeah, seriously kid. Better give us what’s in that bag, ‘cos if you don’t, we’ll just rough you up and take it anyway. Now make it snappy.”

The Shoyru reached into the bag. “All right,” she conceded, “I’ll give you what’s in the bag.” She pulled her hand out.

What followed was a high-precision, magazine-loaded, gas-turbine-auxiliary DVVX Model 88 .50 Calibre semi-automatic rifle. The Shoyru twirled it expertly into firing position and racked the gun’s slide menacingly.

“Why don’t we start with the ammo?”

The two subordinate muggers ceased grinning and looked towards their leader questioningly. This wasn’t part of the plan.

The lead Draik wasn’t faring too well himself. It was his turn to experience twitchy wing syndrome. Following a brief period of gnawing indecision, he managed to squeak out a new plan of action.

“Um… run?”

The thieves were gone before the sentence had finished echoing down the alleyway. High calibre rifles tend to have that effect on people.

The Shoyru shrugged, stashed the rifle back in the bag, gave a few shocked observers a jaunty wave, and continued on down the street. After a few steps and a slightly difficult takeoff, she shook her head a few times to get rid of the urgent buzzing tone in her left ear. She was a tad dizzy by the time she remembered that she wasn’t wearing her preferred right-side earpiece, but a less conspicuous one designed for the opposite ear.

“I’m listening Mia,” she reported, hovering by an intersection as she waited for a red light, “what’s up?”

“I was about to ask you the same question Kawinly.” Mia responded. The Aisha’s voice, unlike Kawinly’s, held a healthy dose of concern. This concern was not directed towards Kawinly. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a casual conversation you were having just now.”

“Oh, that. Nothing major.” Kawinly drifted indifferently over a busy zebra crossing, attracting a few curious glances from nearby drivers. “A bunch of thugs were under the impression that taking candy from a baby would be an easy task.”

There was silence for a few seconds, a sufficient interval for a passer-by to lose interest in the Baby Shoyru holding a conversation with thin air.

“Don’t worry, they ran off before anything got nasty. I didn’t harm them at all.” she added as an afterthought.

“Right.” Mia didn’t sound convinced. “The only exception being that they now have permanent Baby Shoyru phobia. And possibly a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” accused Kawinly, her voice taking on an offended pitch.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to demean your contributions towards the general rehabilitation of Neopian criminals.” Mia’s voice was only marginally sarcastic. “But we need to keep in mind that we’re already running late here. ChronoChem started calling in mercenaries almost a day ago – for all we know half of them could already have been briefed. We can’t afford delays, or people will get hurt.”

“Well,” asserted Kawinly defensively, “if you’d let me wear my normal outfit instead of this monkey suit, they wouldn’t have bothered me in the first place.”

“Oh, of course, that’s a brilliant point you have there!” replied Mia enthusiastically, opening her sarcasm valve to maximum capacity. “Why don’t you go and change right now? Then you’ll be able to spend the whole morning in firefights with corporate hit men!”

Kawinly’s face brightened. “That sounds great! Bring it on!”

Mia let out a long, exasperated groan. “Kawinly!” she admonished. “Lives are at stake here!”

“I know, I know!” exclaimed Kawinly. “I was just kidding. Geez. Can’t a girl make a joke in this day and age?”

The ensuing silence could have cut a decent chunk off the tip of Terror Mountain. Kawinly took advantage of the breather to dispatch a barrage of rude gestures at a pair of gawking onlookers. With the nosy citizens acceptably subdued, she turned into the lobby of a run down, but still heavily used office tower.

“My apologies.” Mia finally assented. “The sarcasm was uncalled for, but in my defence, it’s my job to be uptight. It’s a leadership thing.”

“Apology accepted. I should probably be laying off the jokes for now, but in my defence, I am a Baby pet. I have a right to annoy my elders.” Kawinly synchronised each word emphasis with a jab at the lift call button.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.” laughed Mia. “We’ll take it to court sometime. Are you certain you’re headed to the right place?”

“Absolutely. The SIS might be apathetic when it comes to actually putting two and two together and figuring stuff out, but their surveillance is the best there is. If it happened in Neopia Central, there’s a record of it somewhere in their databanks.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that the privacy of Neopian citizens is still paramount to TNT.” Mia remarked, slipping back into a sarcastic tone. Before she could add more, a series of rustling and crunching noises cut her off. “It looks like Osway’s heading out. I’d better get going. Just remember to check in when you find something.”

“Roger that!” chirped Kawinly. “Just waiting for the elevator.”

The elevator chose that moment to arrive with an unusually cheerful ding – it didn’t see many customers over the weekend. On the other end of the line, Mia was just reaching for the ignition when a thought struck her.

“Oh, and one more thing Kawinly.”

“Yeah?” queried the Shoyru, straining to reach the lift controls.

“I was just giving something you said earlier some thought. Going by the technical definition, it’s your normal outfit that’s the monkey suit.”

* * *

49 floors later, Kawinly glided back out of the elevator, pondering the idea of filing an official complaint with the contraption’s manufacturer. She decided against it – they were probably already up to their eyes in petitions and angry letters from various Neopet Rights groups. A telescopic pointer would be a much simpler solution to her button pushing problem.

She navigated the building on a winding flight path that only approximately followed its corridors, grazing walls and doorframes repeatedly. Baby Shoyrus are not built for long distance flight, nor are they good at heavy lifting. Kawinly was doggedly undertaking both tasks. She was doing them reasonably well too, passing a poster advertising the building’s daycare centre after only three minutes. She grimaced, making sure to give the garish signboard a firm thump with her bag as she turned towards the door opposite.

The knocker was well out of reach, so she settled for using the bag as a miniature battering ram instead. Surprisingly, the inconspicuous wooden door stood firm until the ninth devastating impact, after which it yielded reluctantly (to the person pulling it open from the inside).

The door swung open to reveal a confused Yellow Draik, dressed in a white T-shirt and denim shorts. The Draik was trying (and failing) to conceal a sidearm behind his back, while looking left and right in an attempt to spot the person who had been knocking.

Kawinly cleared her throat meaningfully. He looked down.

“Uh… the daycare centre is on the second floor.”

Normally that statement would have earned a prod from the business end of some kind of high-powered rifle, but Kawinly was in a hurry, so she merely became afflicted by a case of severe selective deafness.

“I need to take a look at your data.” she stated pointedly.

“Uh…” the Draik was doubly confused now. Having never been a babysitter, he lacked critical experience in dealing with Baby pets, and had never been confronted by anything like the Shoyru he was facing now. He eventually realised that this Baby pet was a little more mature than most, and settled on, “You do know this is an intelligence agency right? The Special Information Service?”

“An SIS beta-class intel office.” affirmed Kawinly. “Set up on day 13 of the month of Swimming, in Y3, two months after the SIS itself was founded. It was the SIS head office until the Y5 intelligence reforms. Currently it acts as the central hub for surveillance information exchange in this area. That’s why I need your data. And of course, I have the security clearance needed to see it.”

The Shoyru reached into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be an unmarked slip of blue paper. The slip’s surface was actually covered with an intricate matrix of optical distortion nano-crystals, positioned to reflect light in a highly distinctive manner. Embedded within the slip was a complex lattice of metallic fibres, designed to interact characteristically with an applied magnetic field. The clearance slip was far more secure than any key or passcard, yet could quickly and easily be destroyed beyond recovery if the situation demanded it.

The Draik took the modest looking piece of equipment and examined it in bewilderment. “Uh… attempting to fake security clearance of this level is a felony you know. Under the-”

“Neopian Special Services Act, Section 3.6, Subsection 11, Statement 4, Part C, Clause 3.” completed Kawinly impatiently. “It’s not forged. Now, are you gonna check that thing, or just stand there all day fiddling with that pea shooter of yours?”

“Uh… right.” Still disoriented, the Draik placed his sidearm on a nearby table and pulled the door back so the Shoyru could enter. “Come on in.”

Kawinly hopped in lazily, sizing up the place while the Draik locked the door securely behind her. The office’s furniture consisted mainly of desks, in various forms and colours, scattered around in a haphazard fashion. Most of the desks sprouted bushes of power and network cables, which were sprawled across floor to create a combined effect much resembling (and potentially just as dangerous as) an angry beached kraken. All of the desks were heavily laden with plastic bags, rubber bands, paper wrappers, disposable plates, wooden chopsticks, the occasional cup, and some well-maintained computer equipment. There were a few more doors at the back of the room, presumably leading to other areas of the complex. A few of the desks closer to those doors sported office chairs. These were occupied by Neopets dressed similarly to the guy who had answered the front door, their eyes glued to glowing computer screens that dappled their faces with an eerie blue light. The sound of busy typing filled the air.

“Okay, the slip scanner hasn’t been used in a while, so give me a second to clean off the dust.” The Draik pulled a badly worn rag from underneath a heap of unused paper and wiped it smoothly across the scanning pad. There was a soft ‘whumph’ sound and a dirty grey cloud swiftly engulfed his legs. “All good to go – where was the slip again? Oh, right, I’m holding it.”

He reached for the pad, then hesitated and turned to scrutinise Kawinly. “Uh… if this is a joke, now would be a good time to say so.”

Kawinly gave him a Look.

“Right. Hang on for just a second.” The Draik pressed the slip against the pad, automatically initialising the verification process. Exactly one second later, a green light blinked on and a nearby monitor flickered to life. He walked over to it, dodging through the maze of wires with practised ease.

“Uh… okay! Everything looks good.” he reported, relieved. “We should be able to…”

Something caught the Draik’s eye, and he leaned in closer to make sure he hadn’t misread the report.

“Hold on. You’re Kawinly? The Kawinly? The legend who sniped a hole in King Hagan’s beard from eight miles away?”

“Yep, that Kawinly.” the Shoyru replied, glancing anxiously at the room’s digital wall clock. “I got bored. Stakeout. You know how it is.”

As the Draik’s expression changed from relief to awe, the sound of typing abruptly faded. In a flash, all the SIS agents in the room were clustered around Kawinly, jostling for position and unloading questions faster than flying sparks at a fireworks display.

“You mean you’re the Kawinly who HALO-jumped from the Virtupets space station down to Maraqua and delivered the message that stopped what would have been a major world war?”

“Yeah, I remember that. It was pretty fun until I hit the water. Not something I’d want to try again. At least, not without a parachute.”

The awed expressions spread through the whole group.

“So you’re the Kawinly that led a search team deep into the Haunted Woods to rescue those missing gypsy kids? And brought them all back with everybody completely unharmed?”

Kawinly frowned for a moment as she dug up the appropriate memories. “Oh, that one. Plenty of somebodies got harmed all right. Just not us.”

“You were on board that cruise ship when it was attacked by pirates right? Did you really take out the whole pirate crew single-handedly and sink their ship in less than five minutes?”

“Hmm… which cruise ship? If you’re talking about the Queen of Surf, there were only like three pirates. And on the Neopian Explorer I just settled the problem with a rocket launcher. No mess, less time.”

Two of the SIS agents grinned at each other and mimed bazooka-firing movements.

“Was it you that captured Ylana Skyfire on Kreludor by using a particle accelerator to redirect one of her own blaster bolts toward her?”

“Yes, yes…”

“Woah! Seriously, woah! So you’re really the Kawinly who snuck behind enemy lines during the Sakhmet hostage crisis and blew up three machine gun bunkers with a single explosive charge?”

“Ye- wait, what? That was five bunkers, five separate charges. What kind of dumb terrorist group would stick three major bunkers in one place?”

At this point, the Draik cleared his throat loudly, creating a pause in the questioning just long enough for him to slip in a sentence.

“Well, as you can see, the agents here are a bit lax with scheduled work, especially when non-routine visits are involved. However, I can assure you that most of the time they’re actually very dedicated.”

That got the agents’ attention. In the blink of an eye they were all back at their desks, attacking their keyboards in a frenzy and trying to compose their faces into masks of professionalism. Long-running games of Neggsweeper and Sakhmet Solitaire were brought to an untimely end. A couple of agents even made surreptitious attempts to clean up their workspaces.

The Draik surveyed the situation nervously. “Uh… yeah, sorry about that. I’m supposed to be the agent in charge, but we’re not really into formal arrangements and all that. It’s just… we’ve never had anyone like you come round before. Well, I don’t think there’s really anyone like you in all of Neopia. So… what do you need?”

Kawinly decided she could spare a few more seconds for the sake of politeness. “Well, not to get too formal or anything, but would you happen to have a name?”

“Uh… yeah. It’s Agent Hertz. Matt Hertz.”

“Matt Hertz…” Kawinly ran the name over her tongue slowly, making a mental note to add him to the team’s list of useful contacts. “Neat name. Pleased to make your acquaintance Agent Hertz. I’d shake hands, but our height difference makes that a bit impractical, so let’s just get down to business.

“Like I said earlier, I need to take a look at some of the data you’ve collected. Any workstation with lookup permissions will do. If you could point me in the direction of ChronoChem Pharmaceuticals’ financial records, that would be useful too.”

Matt whistled, impressed. Then he remembered who he was talking to and wrestled his thoughts back into order. “Taking on the corporations all by yourself huh? That sounds really… ambitious. Uh… sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Of course it’s a piece of cake for someone like you.”

“Eh, nothing in law enforcement is ever easy.” professed Kawinly, following the agent to a desk noticeably less waste-littered than the others. “Compared to your average assignment, this is just a bit more… challenging. Besides, I’m working with a few partners – we’ve got each other’s backs well covered.

“By the way, what’s with the profuse apologies? It’s not like I’m some all-powerful intelligence god or anything. I’m just a gutsy Shoyru who’s been out and about a bit more than the average Neopian. Lighten up. We’re equals here after all. Well, technically (with you being an SIS agent and me a civilian) you hold the rank card here.”

“Sorry.” blurted Matt before he could catch himself. He winced, but relaxed when Kawinly merely shot him an amused glance. “I’ll just set up a database account for you.”

The Draik tapped out a series of commands so quickly that his fingers were an invisible blur hovering over the keyboard.

“There, all done. We have a system that automatically tags any incoming financials from registered companies, including ChronoChem. Just run a query for the company’s stock ticker and you’ll be able to pick and choose from whatever strikes your fancy.”

Kawinly slipped eagerly into the desk’s computer chair, resisting the urge to give it an experimental spin. After a few adjustments, she was almost level with desk’s surface. Almost.

“That’s a pretty sweet touch-typing rate you have there.” she remarked, reaching for the letter ‘C’ with some difficulty.

“Well, I used to suck at it,” confessed Matt, finally settling into the thread of a normal conversation, “but I got into computers pretty early, so I’ve had plenty of time to improve.” The Draik paused. “I’ll, uh, go and find you a higher chair. Is there anything else you might need?”

“Nope, I’ll be fine.” replied Kawinly, eyeing up a mouldy, discarded cheeseburger box. “Still… I assume you guys have some food stashed around here?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the Shoyru was gleefully devouring the last of a bowlful of fried orange chicken balls, which she washed down with three successive mugs of coffee. She did this while simultaneously making mincemeat of ChronoChem’s transaction records, poking holes and spotting suspicious misfiles with narrowed eyes trained by a long history of backbreaking investigative work. By the time she had sufficiently sated her appetite for the next half hour or so, she had collected enough evidence to bury the company in a veritable barrage of lawsuits. All things considered, she was making good progress.

Nevertheless, there was something that was causing her considerable discomfort (and it wasn’t the size of her hands relative to the keyboard – she was used to that). The something was very likely connected to the fact that every agent in the room was (when they could excuse themselves from trying to look busy) staring intently at her.

It was distracting. It reminded her of years spent ferrying snobbish politicians around under heavy sniper fire.

When it got so distracting that she started making the same typos twice in a row, Kawinly decided that she might as well put all those brilliant minds to good use.

“So,” she pronounced abruptly, spinning her chair 180 degrees, “I take it from the constant improvised surveillance that you guys don’t really have much to do right now?”

There was a silence similar to the one young children generate when they’ve been caught red-handed and are unable to formulate a convincing excuse.

“Well,” volunteered one agent bravely, “it’s the weekend, so most of our input feeds are pretty much dead. Watching those is nowhere near as interesting as seeing a veteran like you at work.”

Kawinly pretended not to be flattered. It was a lot easier than pretending not to be amused. “Seeing is all right, but doing is the real way to learn in this business. There’s a lot of data to go through here – I wouldn’t mind a few extra hands. So how about joining in?”

“Uh…” intoned the agent, grinning sheepishly.

Matt swooped to the rescue. “We may be among the best at gathering and collating information, but we’re really kinda clueless when it comes to figuring out what it means.” he explained. “We were never trained for analysis you see, although that’s not to say we aren’t partly to blame for the problem.”

“You think analysis is something you have to be trained for?” asked Kawinly, raising an eyebrow. “Trust me, it’s nothing like that. All you need is a brain, motivation, time, and practice. C’mon, I’ll walk you through this one, just to show you the ropes.”

None of the agents replied, but the room was flooded with so much eagerness you could have drowned a Koi in it.

“Great, let’s get started.” instructed Kawinly, not wasting a second. “Our mark today is ChronoChem Pharmaceuticals. Take a look at their financials.”

There was a chorus of general-purpose affirmations and remarks along the lines of “Hmm… very suspicious”.

Kawinly singled out a victim.

“All right, you! The Ogrin in the Jazzmosis shirt! You said, ‘Looks pretty shady to me.’ What is it exactly that looks so shady?”

The unfortunate agent opened and shut his mouth silently a few times, then made a few furtive glances at his computer screen. “Er… well… there are large gaps between the IDs of a lot of the transaction records. Including some which have almost the same timestamps.” he suggested, grasping at straws.

“First try, dead on!” approved Kawinly. She was impressed, and didn’t bother hiding it. “The SIS is wasting some major talent keeping you all cooped up doing grunt work. Now, can anyone tell me what those skipping IDs imply?”

Emboldened, the Ogrin racked his brains and decided to go for broke. “Er… running queries for most of the skipped IDs comes up blank. So it looks like someone’s gone through and… deleted them? Er… is it even possible to delete bank records?”

“Correct again!” Kawinly dislodged a few items from her table and proceeded to use the cleared space as a makeshift lecture podium. “As a matter of fact, it is possible to delete records from the official National Neopian Bank servers. None of their software interfaces are built for it however – you’d need database write permissions, or hardware-level access.”

All the agents in the room nodded simultaneously, their competitive natures kicking in and drawing on as-of-yet untapped regions of their brains for additional processing power. Kawinly’s tried and tested motivation tactics were taking effect.

“Great. We’re ready to move on. For the sake of focus, let’s define an objective for our little analysis session.” Kawinly snatched up a chopstick and waved it dramatically in the air. “We’re aiming to prove that the discrepancies in ChronoChem’s accounts were the direct result of attempts by the company to conceal illegal business dealings. And not only that – we also want to prove that the doctoring of these records was facilitated by the company’s management. Specifically, its Chief Executive Officer: Kevin Ranger. Sound all right?”

Nobody objected. A large corporation, a hotshot executive and suspicious financial records? A definite no-brainer.

“Good.” declared Kawinly pointedly, lowering her chopstick pointer. “We already have plenty of raw evidence on the crime. I’m sure a few fill-in-the-gap queries on the SIS archives will show exactly what those mystery records entail. So, let’s have some ideas as to how we’re going to pin this,” (Kawinly tapped the database window on her screen) “to this,” (she jumped onto her keyboard and flipped the viewport to an image of the ChronoChem logo) “and most importantly of all,” (another jump brought up a cheesy Neopian Times photo of Kevin Ranger’s beaming face) “this.”

The air resonated with the inaudible sound of concentrated self-doubt. But Kawinly wasn’t in the mood for slow and steady. “No slacking now. We need to connect the dots. All of them. This fellow, right here,” the chopstick jabbed forcefully into the photo Ranger’s eye, “has been personally calling the shots all along. This mephitic Mynci has destroyed more lives than you can possibly imagine. We absolutely cannot settle for a civil case here. Seriously. What do you get when you sue a company for a crime? A 200-word non-apology and a fat wad of cash that’s somehow meant to make everything better. We can’t leave it at that. We have a duty to every person and every family who this company has victimised.

“There’s a destructive criminal here who needs to be brought to justice. The culprit needs to pay for his crimes. Kevin Ranger needs to pay for his crimes.”

Kawinly set down the chopstick and spun to face the rest of the room, hands clasped behind her back drill sergeant style.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get to it.”

Creative Commons License
All TURBULENCE team members © their owners (Tivsy, Sapphy, Muffinman, and me)
All Neopets stuff © Neopets Inc.

Arc: Operation 1
Chapters: 1 | 2

Random trivia: This chapter was originally meant to be much longer (at least twice as long) but I decided I had a bit too much to tell here and not enough for chapter 3, so I shuffled the end of this chapter around a bit. Suffice to say you’ll be seeing plenty more of Kawinly if and when I get around to posting the next chapter. 😉

And on that note, I must say I really enjoyed writing Kawinly! She’s pretty much unlike any character I’ve ever written before (not that I’ve written many types of characters), and it was great fun trying (and failing? xD ) to get her personality just right. To be frank, she’s one of the few characters I’ve ever written that I’m pretty sure I got right.

Well anyway, for the sake of those who are like me and always scroll down to read the author’s comments before the actual story, I’ll stop blabbering now. Read! :O

Oh, and if everyone pokes me enough I might actually get chapter 3 done sometime!

Categories: Art, Stories Tags: , ,
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  1. September 29, 2009 at 4:30 am

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