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Quinton Mylod

"Does it hurt? Does it hurt?! PUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

0 · 937 views · located in Androria

a character in “Candles & Clockwork”, as played by Gintoki Sakata

Description

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∞ Full name ∞
Quinton Mylod

∞ Nickname ∞
Snake, Quin

∞ Age ∞
27

∞ Gender ∞
Male

∞ Class ∞
Aether Resident Scientist

∞ Hair Color ∞
Green

∞ Eye Color ∞
Yellow




∞ Likes ∞
β™₯ Boiled Eggs | He likes eggs. Nuff said.
β™₯ Fedoras | No really. He wears one like... all the time. He finds them to be very fashionable.
β™₯ Toying with people | Quinton's favorite pastime by far. He enjoys delving into the minds of others and finding out what makes them tick, only to use that against them later on. He prefers doing this with those are mentally guarded, since they would be more of a challenge, thus making the experience more enjoyable for him.


∞ Dislikes ∞
βœ– Impromptu Events | Quinton likes having everything play out exactly how he wants it to. If even the slightest alteration were to be made to his plans, he would become very agitated.
βœ– Cats | He absolutely despises the creatures. Mostly because he deadly allergic to them.
βœ– Humanity | While he does enjoy using them and toying with him, other people irk Quinton. They believe they have control over their own lives, when really he is the true puppet master. This pertains to the Upper Class as well. He would sooner see them all destroy themselves than continue their worthless existence.


∞ Skills ∞
βœ” Manipulation | Utilizing his Powers of Persuasion, Quinton has nearly perfected the art of Manipulation. He is adept at getting what he wants from telling other's what they want to hear. Of course he has many other methods as well. Blackmail, Mutual Exchange, etc.
βœ” Chemistry | Being a scientist, Quinton can't devote all of his time to gathering information, or else he wouldn't be able to hold a steady position in this world before he brings it crumbling down. Through his career, Quinton has become an exemplary chemist. He likes to keep little concoctions he has made up on his person that prove to be convenient whenever he is in a fix and needs to deal with a particularly unruly individual himself.
βœ” Information Gathering | Quinton has many connections throughout the world of Androria. They are his eyes and ears, making it to were there is almost nothing going on is Aether that he isn't aware of. These contact go from the Upper Classes all the way down to the ground levels. However, the majority of his contacts reside in the middle class islands. Altogether, Quinton has enough power to take over at least 1/8th of the middle class islands altogether. The only reason he hasn't is because it would deviate from is plans and derive a great deal of attention from the government.


∞ Flaws ∞
βœ– Allergies | Born with a weak constitution, Quinton hasn't been the healthiest of people. He has many allergies that could prove deadly to him, if he isn't careful around them. While he has remedied most of them through narcotics and chemicals he has made himself, he finds it impossible to cure all of these illnesses. Felines would be a major example.
βœ– Physical Violence | In the simplest terms, Quinton is a wimp. He cannot handle arduous amounts of physical labor nor prove himself in a test of brawn. He is prefers to have grunts do his dirty work for him, while he watches from the sidelines pulling the strings. As weak as he is, he has to maintain certain safety measures on his person at all times. Examples being concealed weapons like a pistol or corrosive chemicals stored in thin bottles.
βœ– Headaches | Because of the ever-growing mass of information Quinton stashes into his brain, he is subject to the occasional migraine. He usually has to take pills to make these headaches go away, but they are quite frequent and sometimes too relentless to let painkillers dispel them. Quinton has passed out of several occasions because of these headaches. They take a severe toll on his mind and if left alone for too long could eventually kill him.





∞ Personality ∞
Overall, Quinton is very twisted and secretive. He tells others little of himself and has ways of squeezing every little bit of information about them into his memory bank. That being said, he doesn't like to be too well-known by government officials and people of authority. He much prefers the company of people he has control over, rather than those who hold power over him. His methods go from blackmailing Upper classmen to fund his exploits to bribing low-class bottom feeders with promise of easier lives. In the end, they're all just trash to him. Tools to be thrown away once they've served their purpose.

Quinton isn't one to leave loose ends untied. If he was, then eventually those ties would lead back to him. And he just can't have that. When he feels someone has outlived their purpose, he has a few bands of happy-go-lucky cleanup crews to per say... take out the trash. These cleanup crews consist of mostly ruffians from the low and middle-class islands who Quinton has offered a stable position to in Aetherian life. There are even a few mindless angels who Quinton has reassigned under his command after picking them back up from the ground levels. While they aren't the nicest bunch to have around, they do prove to be quite useful and Quinton enjoys useful tools the most. If one remains useful to him, then they live longer. That is simply the way it works.

Quinton sees the world in a different light than most people. He sees himself as a god and those who choose to try and rule over god were never meant to exist. Thus he has deluded himself into believing that if he erased them, then he will finally achieve the level of a god. What better way than to have these foolish creatures slaughter each other? 'Revolution' is a word Quinton throws around lightly, as he has spent the majority of his lifetime readying one. All the pieces are coming together quite nicely.

Despite his rather insane personality on the inside, on the outside Quinton always has a sly smirk placed on his lips. He treats those he deals with like buddies in order to establish a sense of companionship, while really he is only luring them into a false sense of security. Having dealt with various types of people, Quinton has picked up different mannerisms and slang that are very useful when he is in need of more disposable tools.

Quinton is deceptive and underhanded in his tactics. They even go as far as spreading psychological warfare among the crowds through propaganda and political figures that he has under his belt. He wants the people to know a revolution is coming and when it does, things are going to get very, very hectic. Just the thought of seeing all of them panicking in fright gets him excited. Although his efforts have at best stirred up a slight uproar, the government has done everything within their power to calm the nerves of their citizens. Not that Quinton hasn't already taken precautionary measures for this. Oh yes. As soon as his final plan goes through, there won't be any stopping the calamity that is to come. And Quinton will have front-row seats to the floating islands of Aether's downfall.


∞ History ∞
Born as a rather sickly child to a lone mother, Quinton's childhood was a rather boorish one. He spent most of his days locked away in his room, bedridden with practically every disease known to man. He wasn't expected to live past the age of 14. The strain his life pressed on his mother was almost enough for her to abandon him. The only reason she hadn't was to maintain the façade of a loving mother who would do anything for her poor child. She had friends in high places and they offered her nursing jobs, seeing how caring she was towards the young. Eventually his mother took a job as a fulltime wet-nurse for a wealthy high class family, sending money back to Quinton in order to pay for his medicine bills and also hire a weekly caretaker to tend to his other needs. Not that Quinton cared much. He always saw the woman as an eyesore.

Left alone to himself and his thoughts, Quinton spent the majority of his time reading and learning from books. Quinton had quite the open mind; almost photographic in nature. He soaked up information like a sponge and could even recite an entire novel after only skimming over the pages once. He was truly a genius with wasted potential. Ever so often he would stare out his bedroom window at the children below, playing and laughing without a care in the world. If someone were to catch him, they would think he was lonely and wanted to be like the other kids. It was quite the contrary. Quinton felt that it was unfair that his potential was being wasted away by illness, while these fairly healthy cretins were allowed to frolic about. Taking a deeper look into Quinton's eyes, one could tell that they were filled with nothing but hate and envy.

Being left by himself, all alone in this world, Quinton eventually deluded himself to believing he is a god. He figured at some point he must have made a mistake in bringing about this world. He attempted to remedy it with the Acid storms but underestimated humanity's tenacity and prowess. While logically, Quinton could tell that these thoughts were pure nonsense, as time went on and the days became longer, it dawned on him that there could be no other alternative. Having reached some level of self-preserved insanity, Quinton began making plans to bring about humanity's downfall. But he wouldn't do it himself. Oh no. He would make humanity destroy itself as a sweet yet bitter revenge for torturing their god and subjecting him to such a humiliating fate.

His first step was to cure himself of as many illnesses as he could. He knew that doctors and medical personal weren't doing anything to make him better. Only delay his inevitable demise and make him suffer as he waited for it. Since they weren't going to help, he would have to do it himself. Asking his caretaker to buy him books on physics, chemistry, and medical care, Quinton soon delved into the world of science. Through several years of constant practice and execution, Quinton had cured over half of his illnesses that even the hospitals on the upper class islands could never hope to cure. The fruits of his labor had proved to be ripe and ready for harvesting. He could have saved many lives throughout Aether and even made a name for himself with these concoctions of his. He could even become an important figure in the field of medicine and science, living a life of luxury in the upper class islands. But Quinton's hatred for humanity proved too great for him to even consider these thoughts.

Having succeeded in revitalizing himself, Quinton was now able to do many things that he had never been able to before. He immediately fired his caretaker, having no further use of them and kept whatever money his mother sent him for himself. Quinton dazzled at the sights around him as he made his first steps out the door. They weren't new, but the thought that such a civilization that had once seemed so small, could be so huge once taken out of the frame of a bedroom window. Quinton did not stare at the magnificence of Aether in awe, rather his mind couldn't comprehend anything past the sheer delight he would find in crashing every last island back into the face of Androria. This was only the start of his plans.

While his initial encounters with other people were somewhat awkward and brief, Quinton soon learned how to make connections between himself and others, using them to branch out to other people and so on. He learned many other social skills along the way which allowed him to eventually make a social network of information, which he was able to deposit into his mind and recall at will. This network stretched from the high upper class islands to the harsh, acid-tainted lands of Androria. Quinton can be quite greedy when it comes to information, so he

Around the age of 19, Quinton decided to take the knowledge he took from his studies in science and apply them to his everyday life. Becoming a chemist at the age of 22, Quinton used everything at his disposal to further his research and cure his body of all illness. He was successful for the most part, but failed to cure a select few. While, the main illness that threatened to take his life at an early age had been weakened, it was still ever-present. From what Quinton could deduce, he had until his mid-30's before he would finally perish. That didn't take into account the lethality of the persistent headaches he had been receiving lately. His end was nearing and Quinton could feel it. If he was going to act, it would have to be soon. Within only a few years, he would have his ultimate revenge against humanity.


∞ Relationships ∞
β–Ί Callie Nickel - "Ah, yes. While she doesn't seem very impressive, her ties to certain individuals would prove quite useful."
β–Ί Clara M. P. Heany - "Such a young thing. I want to see the look on her face as her parents are slaughtered before her very eyes... Delicious."
β–Ί Nina Crosby - "Yes. She will make a fine beacon to start off my lovely, little revolution. I do hope the rat succeeds in this mission."
β–Ί Cyril Finnahan - "Yes... The Rat. He has proven himself enough to where sparking the flame to burn millions shouldn't prove too difficult a task."
β–Ί Karl Twittz Fitzgerald - "Common ground level filth, just like the rest of them. However this charming, little pistol he supplied me with isn't half bad."
β–Ί Isaac - "Its quite amusing to find one of these things being used as a figurehead. It couldn't hurt trying to get more firepower on the rebel side..."
β–Ί Gladys - "Hehe~ She's a cute thing, really. Certainly serves her purpose as motivation to use against that Rat."
β–Ί Jinji Ko - "Hmmm. Doesn't ring a bell. I might have to find some intel on this one."





∞ Face Claim ∞
Hazama(Yuuki Terumi) from Blazblue
∞ Gallery ∞
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So begins...

Quinton Mylod's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callie Nickel Character Portrait: Clara M. P. Heany Character Portrait: Nina Crosby Character Portrait: Cyril Finnahan Character Portrait: Karl Twittz Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Quinton Mylod Character Portrait: Isaac [ANGEL - XIII]

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[Dammit I was gonna post Saturday not 3am Sunday!!!]

The morning parades were beginning and all over Aether the excited screams were muffled by music and balloons. Aether Ascension Day as it was called was supposedly a happy day, a day to be celebrated by all no matter or age or class. But this was a false reality told by the rejoicing upper-class so they could excuse themselves for blowing a small fortune on overly frivolous party gifts. In reality the upper-class were the only ones who truly got to celebrate the day, with parades and tea parties in the morning and after noon then at night fireworks and parties. Meanwhile the middle class would toil preparing the party for the upper class before they would return to there own homes at 3am or if there were upper-class bachelors they would spend the evening in a middle-class island blowing money on alcohol and girls. And the lower class well they lucky to get to go home early. As for the surface well it was doubtful they would celebrate the day they got abandoned. And it is on this day amidst the innocence and ignorance that our story truly begins...






~ CALLIE NICKLE ~


'Happy Aether Day! Remember to grab your free balloon at the gate and thank you for flying-' Callie let out a sigh as the automated message repeated for the third time, the jingle of over happy music could have actually made Callie ill. Every year was the same, horribly joyful music, a slew of grinning faces and overly dressed people cramming close together to celebrate the joy and leaving behind millions to die. Though this year was different for Callie, previous years were spent in her hotel room watching the parades on t.v this year she was going to an upper-class island. Not by her own choice mind you. She had received a very sudden call from a previous employer asking her to pick up a job, it was sudden but Callie had been running out of funds so she had accepted of course once she accepted she regretted it. She was going to be in the engine room of a Surface Craft, aptly named for being bulky armored air-ships designed to fly down to the surface and bring back copious amounts of something. In this case it was Crawlers. The disgusting looking creatures were considered a delicacy by the upper-class and of course there weren't enough to feed everyone at her employers party so she was scrambling to send a team down to the surface to collect some crawlers for her creme. Sighing again at her misfortune Callie stood as the airship docked she had plenty of time to get to the next dock and onto the hunk of metal...

Admittedly Callie could see the benefits of this job. She had never seen the surface before and she had heard rumors of the beautiful Fractal Forests. But that did not change the fact that she was currently sitting in the poorly cared for engine room of the Surface Craft staring at what she could see through a small round window. The engine unleashed another hiss and Callie sighed to see that there was yet another leak. She would have to talk to her employer about actually fixing the engine instead of just patching it with duck-tape. Pulling out the duck-tape Callie patched the small hole before grabbing her tool kit, she had a good half hour before the ground party came back with there haul and then no doubt they would head straight back up so that the crawlers could get fried or however they were cooked. While Callie got caught up in her work she barely heard the sound of footsteps on the floor above her. It was only one set so it could not be the ground party return from there hunt... Curious and more then a little paranoid Callie stopped her work and grabbed her screw driver, [which made a surprisingly good weapon] and headed up the ladder to see who the other person was.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nina Crosby Character Portrait: Cyril Finnahan Character Portrait: Quinton Mylod Character Portrait: Gladys

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Cyril Finnahan/Quinton Mylod

"Yoohoo~ Wake up, Rat." Cyril stirred in his sleep, rolling back and forth, before finally opening his eyes, slowly. Blinking away his drowsiness, Cyril mumbled a few incoherent curses before shifting his body into a sitting position and reaching into one of his pockets. A tinge of irritation lurking through his mind, Cyril hesitated before bringing a small mechanical device out of his pocket and raising a questioning eyebrow at the screen. "What do you want, Snake? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

A slender man with green hair smiled charismatically through the screen, with his eyes squinted open ever so slightly. To most it would seem that his eyes weren't open at all. "Come on, pal. Is that any way to talk to an old friend?" At the mention of the word 'friend', the man's grin distorted into disturbing, toothy smile for a split second. Cyril merely stared at the man, expressionless. He's spoken with Quinton enough times to be used to the man's odd mannerisms. "Just get to the point. Do you have more information about Gladys?" Knowing the man no doubt had another mission for him to accomplish, Cyril saw no point in dawdling. He casually began suiting up for whatever crazy plan Quinton had in mind. "As impatient as always, I see. Very well, then..." Giving himself a few moments to collect his thoughts, Quinton continued his explanation. "I have one final task for you to do for me. Oh! And this is a big one, so make sure not to get lost during the rundown, alright? Just tell me if you have any problems keeping up." Cyril grimaced at Quinton's statement. While he failed to grasp the insult that was implied, he knew that there was definitely something he didn't like about Quinton's tone. Even so, he listened intently as he strapped a leather bracer to his arm.

"To put it simply, there is a certain individual I would like you to... take care of per say. She is a daughter of a prestigious family who I'm sure no one would miss." Quinton sported a cocky sneer before continuing. "If I were to be perfectly honest, she was a random pick out of a select few, but her death is quite necessary in order to further my goals." Cyril took a pause in his movements, feeling somewhat caught off guard. While he didn't have any problems with killing, this was unlike any of the other requests Quinton had asked of him. He contemplated asking him the reasons behind this request, but decided against it. He didn't really care why Quinton wanted this person dead. This was merely a means to an end. Besides, he knew by now that Quinton only told him what was necessary. Even didn't even uncover his real name after all the time he's known him. "Alright then... Who am I supposed to be killing?" Cyril asked, as he tied the ends of his hair in a short, messy ponytail. "The lucky girl's name is Nina Crosby. Here's a photo of her." At the end of those words, the screen flickered over to an image of a Nina. Cyril eyed it as if scanning every inch of it. After finishing his analysis of the picture, Cyril nodded, signaling that he understood who his target was.

"Whatta you think? Quite the looker, isn't she? Not that I can say she's really my type." Cyril ignored Quinton's comment. Right now, he was only interested in the important details. "I think you're missing something, Snake. How exactly am I supposed to get to the target from down here?" To this question, Cyril stopped what he was doing to look at Quinton directly. If this mission was impossible to accomplish, then there was no use in getting geared up for it. "Come now. Do you really think 'I' would make such a mistake? I've already made preparations for your departure to the Upper Class islands. You see, there is a certain cargo ship not too far North from your position that should be ready to take off any time now to said location. I'm sure you're well aware that after completing my task, you'll no doubt try looking for your sister, right?" At this, Cyril finished getting ready and grabbed the device as he began to walk out into the series of caverns that was the Underground, making sure to secure his hovel before leaving. "Alright. So that solves how I'll get there. But what makes you so sure I'll do this for you, now that I have my ride?" Cyril questioned, looking around for any suspicious characters; also know as residents. Let's see... For one, you don't know the island she's on, or even what level she patrols. You could spend your whole life looking for her up here, with no clear idea of her whereabouts. Another thing would be..." Quinton stopped himself, contemplating whether or not he should continue. "I guess I can let this one slip. Another freebie for old times' sake. Your sister doesn't quite look like her old self... You could say her appearance has changed drastically from the way it used to be." Taking in all of the information, Quinton soon made his way to one of the many mouths leading in and out of the Underground. He knew a long time ago that people don't look the same after they have been changed into ANGELS. But Quinton did have a point on both of those accounts. Cyril couldn't deny that. Over the year, Quinton has made sure to only give Cyril just enough information to seem reliable, while holding back as much as he could for future use.

"From your silence, I take it you have no further complaints? Alright, then! Make sure to tell me once you've reached the Upper levels, so I can tell you where to find the target. Just so you know, there is a set of clothes hidden underneath a panel at the uppermost right corner of the cargo hold. You'll need to sneak in there and dress into them. Oh, and make sure you're seen once you've killed her. That's all for now. Good luck~" With that Quinton blinked out, leaving the screen black. Cyril took a moment to think about this task. He noticed that Quinton had planned everything out up to the point where he assassinates Nina. He left out the part where Cyril is supposed to escape. Ultimately, Cyril decided that he would just have to improvise at that point. Rushing through the Fractal Forest, Cyril made his way to the Surface Craft.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Callie Nickel Character Portrait: Cyril Finnahan Character Portrait: Quinton Mylod Character Portrait: Isaac [ANGEL - XIII]

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~ CALLIE NICKLE ~


Callie was more then a little relieved to notice that the noise she'd heard from below was in fact just a rat. Letting out a sigh of relief that she wasn't going crazy the sound of wheeze and loud pop brought her out of her thinking. Sliding back down the ladder she groaned as the room began to fill with smoke. Walking over to the window she'd been starring out of earlier she popped it open and began trying to shoo the smoke out, but she soon realized it was useless to fight the smoke when more kept boiling out of the engine. So she picked up her welding mask and dove through the smoke to see what the problem was.

After a good 15 minutes Callie was proud to say she'd fixed the engine and the smoke was almost completely gone. The problem as it turned out was a rock, lodged in one of the pipes causing the smoke to build up. Looking down at the little gray rock Callie could not help but wonder where it had come from. Few people had to be stupid enough to shove a rock in such a place. So the only thing that could really cross her mind was that it was done on purpose. Probably by someone thinking they were clever. Letting out a puff of breath Callie stood and made her way to the round window closing it back up. It was then that she heard footsteps above her again. Though she was quick to dismiss it as the rat again she could not shake the feeling of being watched...

It did not take much longer for the hunting party to return and soon the airship was off rising back toward the islands. Callie was mildly disappointment she had not got to see anything other then the engine room but she was rather pleased with herself to hear the engine purring. She really had to admit she was good. Rising took longer then descending so Callie was invited to the ships upper levels to enjoy the view, and of course the hunters seemed fond of Callie and she was on the receiving end of quite a bit of flirtation and more then a few stories. None of it really impressed Callie, these were after all the same men who were known to at times kidnap people from the surface and that just did not sit well with her. She also noted another man on the ship whom she had not seen earlier that day. But she shrugged it off and soon returned to the engine room. Even after they landed she stayed there fixing up the rusty old thing. After all she had nothing else to do today and hey, her employer knew her fairly well that if Callie mentioned fixing the engine problems she might get a bonus. She could use it if she was going to go visit Isaac later this evening.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Quinton Mylod Character Portrait: Isaac [ANGEL - XIII] Character Portrait: Gladys

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Quinton Mylod/Gladys


Upon hanging up, Quinton began chuckling, eventually breaking out into manical laughter. "At last. The fruits of my labor are finally showing. Its only a matter of time before these god damn islands all come crashing down." Snickering to himself once again, Quinton finally managed to calm himself. "Oh, that's right. I still have to move a few of my other pieces into play." Fidgeting with the main transmission dial on his device, Quinton finally got it to the frequency he wanted. After adjusting the middle and smaller dial, he raised the device to his ear. "Hey there, buddy! Get those weapons I asked for?..." A few moments passed after Quinton had received his answer. "Dear me. Now that's mighty unfortunate. You see, I'm running a very tight schedule right now and I'll need those weapons pronto! If you can't deliver..." After a few panicked ramblings and empty promises from the other end, Quinton continued. "Very well, chum! I'll give you one more day. Have them ready by then, alright? You know what will happen if you don't." With that, Quinton once again cut the connection.

"Now..." Turning his head to the two men and the abomination that was once a failed ANGEL attempt behind him, Quinton eyed them quizzically. "Did you gentlemen need something?" Quinton asked, not even pretending to be interested in their answer. "Hey, boss. We gotta get dis thing fixed. It almost ripped Jacob's leg off this mornin'." The generic grunt explained, pointing to the ANGEL behind him, cautiously. The ANGEL's gender was not even recognizable by appearance at this point. It had suffered results from both the experiments and mutation from Acid Rain, before Quinton's men picked it up from the surface. It merely stood there, it's deformed, red eyes fallen to the floor as it's bulbous face leaked a bit of pus onto the floor. Looking back, Quinton could see that a generous trail of the substance was made on the way to his establishment. "And pray-tell... How is this my problem?" Giving an irritated sigh, Quinton opened the middle drawer of the desk in front of him, taking out a sheet of paper from a scattered pile with three numbers written on it. "This is the frequency for a mechanic not to far from here. Do make sure not to be seen entering his establishment, alright? I'm short on tech suppliers and really don't need another one getting arrested." Taking a moment to consider something, Quinton added in another detail before dismissing the men. "Do make sure to take 'precautions' in case that does happen." With a sinister smile, the man replied. "Oh. Don't worry, boss. We'll make sure the snark don't say a word." With that, the trio exited the building, leaving Quinton to himself once more.

With a sigh, he dialed his device again. "Oh, hello! Remember what we talked about before?... That's right. So about it? Get me those ANGEL units, my good man?" The next sound that filled the air a was a thunderous bang. In fact, it had been Quinton's clenched fist that hit the top of his desk. "You do know how I hate to wait... You command those pieces of scrap, so WHY is it so hard to get them reprogrammed to follow my orders?... Enough excuses, old man. If you have to, get that damn figurehead unit to do the job. Or else." Having made himself clear, Quinton hung up. Immediately after, he grasped his head in agony. "AGH! Dammit! These useless cretins... Why can't they do anything right?!" Quinton exclaimed, banging his hand on the desk numerous times as he fought to focus the pain somewhere other than his head. Meekly reaching for the medicine in his pocket, Quinton brought it out with a shivering hand. Upon delivering it into his stomach, Quinton gasped heavily for a few more minutes before his breathe began to calm."Just a little longer... I'll become a god once more... In just a little while longer..." With those words, Quinton began to chuckle to himself again. Eventually, it transitioned into a noise that could be mistaken for sobbing.




"Hey lady. Are you dead?" Gladys winced at the sunrays that playfully danced over her eye, in between the cracks of a swaying branch. Opening it, she looked up only to meet the eyes of another. "Wha-..." Before Gladys could finish her question, a scream was heard from behind the figure before her. Her uncovered eye now fully opened, Gladys jerked up. It turns out that the one who woke her up was a child, no older than 4. Turning her confused glare towards the direction of the scream, a frightened woman came into view. She seemed startled, or and least deeply disturbed by Gladys' presence. Gladys moved to get up from the tree she had been leaning against, which caused the woman to stiffen. "W-we weren't breaking any laws. J-just on our way to visit our grandma. We decided to take a shortcut." The woman explained, trembling as she did so. She seemed to be inching towards the child ever so slightly, keeping her eyes on Gladys. Gladys tilted her head, still somewhat puzzled by the situation. Standing up, Gladys gave the woman one final cursory glance before speaking. "U-u-um. Protocol states that all residents must take public transport if their destination exceeds 2 kilometers from their initial starting point." Suddenly feeling a bit nervous, Gladys resorted to using her protocol to deal with the situation. "We know! We just didn't have enough money to get a cab. Plus... There aren't many people who would drive us to the middle of a forest..." Gladys stared at her, somewhat unsure on how to respond. Before she had the chance to, the woman dashed towards the child and man a B-line in another direction. Gladys stood there, watching them. She felt somewhat relieved having gotten through the awkward situation.

"Ah! Fuckin' finally! God. I thought this piece of shit would never work." Suddenly, a masculine voice roared in Gladys' head, startling her for a second. "Hello?..." Gladys cautiously greeted the voice, feeling some kind of familiarity with it, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Yeah. Hey, dummy. You know how long I've been tryin' to get in contact with you? Five fuckin' hours. Newsflash, Bozzo. Ya need to stop turnin' off yer damn radio chip." Gladys' face lit up with cognizance. "Ezikiel!" Gladys replied, her only words a simple exclamation. "I know my own damn name. Wai-... Where the hell are you?" Gladys looked around her, slowly drifting her gaze over the landscape. "Um... A forest?" Gladys answered, although it seemed more like a question. "Are you freaking kiddin' me?! A forest again?! God! Who knew ANGELs could be such fuckin' airheads. Get your ass back to HQ NOW. I gotta check up on your circuitry. There's also supposed to be some dumb ANGEL formation in a few hours, so get here FAST!" The angry man hung up, obviously displeased with the ANGEL he was put in charge of.

Gladys slowly made her way back to HQ, her curiosity urging her to make little detours at the various places she crossed on the way. There was even a parade going on that she took particular interest in. There were ANGELs stationed at the streets, allowing the atmosphere to become cheerful but under control. Eventually, she made it back only an hour before the formation was to take place. Gladys was eager to see Isaac again. She wanted to tell him about the new flower she discovered on her trip to the forest and over her encounter with the child and his sister. However, Ezikiel had other ideas in mind before she was allowed to do so. "Welcome back, princess. Did you have a nice little trip? You were supposed to be patrolling St. Malcolm through Walburn street, you slacker. Ezikiel greeted, with a mocking tone added to his already sarcastic personality. Gladys looked down, feeling a bit guilty that she failed to follow her orders. "Whatever. Just com'ere and turn around. I need to make sure your modulator ain't shorting out." Obeying Ezikiel's orders, Gladys waited until he was finished fiddling with her machinery. "There. That should keep you from manually shutting off yer radio. Da fuck you doing that for anyway?" Ezikiel asked, annoyed to find that Gladys had consciously been blocking communication with him. She continued to stare at the floor, afraid to respond to the man's question. Finding that he wasn't going to receive an answer Ezikiel shook his head and returned to his chair. Look at me. Talkin' to a fuckin' robot. Jus' get outta here." Gladys left the room, closing the door behind her. While she didn't exactly dislike Ezikiel, she hated when he yelled at her for neglecting her duties.

Aimlessly wandering the halls, Gladys suddenly remembered the formation Ezikiel mentioned earlier. Realizing that she was about to be late, Gladys rushed to the formation area, only to find that the briefing was about to start. Most of the other ANGELs were already present, waiting for Isaac to show up and issue out their orders. Feeling embarrassed that she was so late, Gladys sprinted over to her spot at the end of the formation, a snicker or two escaping some of the other ANGELs who were more aware of her frequent tardiness record than the rest. She blushed slightly, trying to maintain what little composure she could muster before the meeting began.