No Sword Day, Blackjack and Hookers (Clockwork)

ULTRA HQ

It had only been a day since she arrived, but there was already trouble with the grunts. Apparently an Agent had gotten into trouble with the normal recruits, mixed up actually- and someone was sent to the infirmary for a severed limb.  Some people accuse the agent of being attacked without provocation, but cameras didn't lie- Diana was called by the trainer and challenged her to take him down, even inviting her to use her sword while he used a combat knife.

Once the arm was cleanly severed at the elbow, a fight broke out and Diana knocked out a few more tough guys, before they decide to leave her alone. Diana left the floor with her sword, violently throwing it into the locker, and slammed her locker shut, leaving her sword behind. She grabbed a jacket, a helmet, a hog, and rode off, out of the city.

Anyone who stayed in the empty locker room would feel like they weren't alone. Something inside Diana's locker was looking at them, but of course the sword was the only thing there.

OUTSIDE NY

She rode and rode until she got tired, and decided to stop at a roadside diner. It was one of those pieces of America still untouched by rapid modernization, and people still did things the old fashioned way there. The air smelled of grease, everything on the menu was swimming in gravy, and the people there were the average joes who couldn't afford or didn't want anything of the advanced, impersonal technology back in New York. Here there was no public WiFi; people read books or the newspaper, had brewed coffee and had conversations with each other.

Diana slumped into one corner by herself, followed by  the plate of bacon and waffles she ordered upon entering.

No old fashioned Diner though could escape the certain ugliness of humanity. In the adjacent lot was a cheap roadside motel, and in the parking lot were trailer vans. A lot of people were going back and forth from there, but taking side roads, avoiding notice. Diana saw that right at the Diner sign, a buff man in Jersey Shore attire and tattoos stood. Beside him was a meek looking girl in a jacket and hoodie, and a denim skirt and cowboy boots.

Clockwork tended to keep his eyes on any members of interest within Ultra. Whether they had interesting abilities or were just interesting people in general, though his attention for the moment fell upon a female that had joined by the name of Di Something about them was different from your average human but he could not quite tell what that something was just by looking at them. That difference may have been the fact that they smelled of blood, as if they had bathed within the substance before coming here even. Something about them was unnatural at the very least, something that made him want to learn more about them and that was why he had decided to watch them spar with a few others. From how she moved alone, he could tell there was skill but then again there was also something else about the female, especially when she sliced through one of their arms with seeming ease despite her build.

In fact he had found himself following into the locker room, taking note of how they violently threw their blade into their locker, though he had made sure to take the form of one of the female members of the staff before doing so. Sneaking around was something that Christopher found easy enough to do, especially when his own physical form was something that could be changed around on a whim. It felt as if eyes were upon him, and yet he could not quite pick out where the eyes were gazing at him from. It was an unnerving sensation really, but something that he pushed aside pretty quickly when the self given mission of following seemed to become more important within all of this. This involved actually following, and so that was what he did in a roundabout fashion because it appeared that the female was doing a good bit of driving.

The end location was that of a diner, something that seemed almost American in a painful sense. Even outside he could smell the grease, something that was pungent more than anything else and yet it reminded him of a diner he used to eat at in his youth. Dressed as a trucker with a cap and the usual get up, Christopher walked through the door with glasses perched upon his nose. His eyes darted towards where Diana sat, choosing his own seat before picking up a menu with items filled with things that would likely give him a heart attack. In the end he picked out something like fried chicken, perhaps one of his guilty pleasures along with a cup of milk which they wonderfully were able to provide. Well food was something he was in need of, so no need to complain really.

The lady working the counter came out with Clockwork's order after ten minutes, handing him a basket with three big pieces of thickly breaded friend chicken with gravy- a thigh, a breast and a drumstick. It came with a side of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy and a inch-thick slice of garlic bread slathered with butter. The tall glass of milk came with a quarter donut as garnish, like some tropical dish.

Diana's attention was only momentarily diverted when Clockwork the trucker came in, though seeing nothing unusual about him, she looked at her food again to give it the proper attention butter, syrup AND jam for the waffles. The Diner was fairly calm and the jukebox was playing The Highwaymen at a moderate volume.

The martial artist ate in relative peace, until the door rang again and in came the white hooded girl in the mini skirt. Most of the decent folk just ignored her, but a few rougher looking folks leered at her, undressing her with their eyes. Others dismiss her as "too thin, not my type."

Diana too was a bit taken by her pale, wispy teen look. Though she did think the poor thing could use a bite. White girl came over to Diana, giving her a rather pleasing smile. "Hey there. What brings you around these parts? Headed to the city for work?"

"Came from the city, from work." Diana responded, taking a closer look at snow white. She was not happy to see her paleness was a bit unhealthy, she seemed a bit anemic, there were lines under her eyes and her pupils were dilated.

"Oh... uh... well that's pretty... cool. Found work already. But ah, you know, we're looking for... models..." She started offering Diana, but was quickly cut off.

"Who are you?" Diana cleaved to the issue at hand.

"My-my name's Alice. B-but what..." Alice didn't seem that good at dealing with people.

"The man outside. He is your pimp? The one who makes you hide your scars?" Diana looked at Alice with a tired anger. Anger at Alice's powerlessness. Anger at the man who controlled her like a puppet.

"What?! No, I..I... I'm not..." She tried to object.

"You smell of drugs. And sex. You should walk away from this life if you know what's good for you."

Alice sat there in stunned silence. What would you know, she thought of Diana. Part of her did agree, and wished she could. "You're weird. I ... I need-need to go."

Once 'Alice' left, Diana stared at her half eaten plate, appetite lost. Alice was picking up some other, more impressionable teenagers at the Diner- how stupid could they be? Well, maybe not stupid but desperate. She introduced a couple of immigrant Vietnamese girls to Jersey Shore outside.

Diana cracked her knuckles. She was no hero- indeed, she only killed for profit. But there was something about victimizing girls that greatly bothered her.

Diana stood up, unknowingly walked up to beside her colleague, paid for her food, and walked out the Diner.