Angela returned to Akane’s room some time later, examining the dreamcatcher as though something visible had changed and she were searching for it. She was checking the energy he’d left on it, though he wouldn’t know. From all the tracing, he’d left a considerable imprint, and it would do it’s intended job.

Angela: "Thanks, Hon. You're dismissed."

She walked away again. He blinked from behind his dark sunglasses. Meanwhile Becky was packing up, green eyes twinkling. Jasmine had since rejoined her, even though she still felt . . . heavy.

Becky: "Thank ya 'gain for yer hospitalitay Jasmine. Ah can't wait 't 'ave y'all ovah at 'th ranch! Fair warn'n; 'th dogs git veray excited."

Jasmine smiled, sitting on the bed.

Jasmine: "I'll see you in a few days, Becky."

Angela walked in, holding the dreamcatcher, handing it to Becky.

Angela: "It's a spare. I took a few extra measures. It should help plenty, Hon."

Becky: "Oh, well, thank ya!"

She giggled. She looked at the beautiful mixture of purple and red yarn, beads and a few feathers. She placed it into her small suitcase.

Becky: "Akane's give'n meh a ride back 't mah truck."

She quickly informed the two, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. Jasmine smiled at the thought.

Jasmine: "He's very protective, so you're in good hands."

Becky: "Ahm glad 't know tha'."

Akane: "Becky, the car's ready."

He said as he walked over.

Becky: "Oh well, thank ya kindlay!"

Becky smiled and walked over to him, turning and waving.

Becky: "Ah'll see y'all next Saturday!"

Jasmine smile never faltered and she nodded.

Jasmine: "See you then."

    The pair walked out, disappearing from sight. Jasmine sighed, getting up and going back to her own bedroom, grumbling slightly, digging through the letters Akane hadn’t taken from her. One more . . . She was certain the last letter was today’s . . . Whenever Angela could acquire it and get it to her . . .

Jasmine: “Angela!”

    She called, body trembling with nervousness. She’d gotten the first two without fail . . . Akane had taken the third, fourth and fifth . . . Last night’s was the sixth . . .

    Tonight’s would be the seventh . . . She had to have it. Akane couldn’t know. He couldn’t take it from her. Not now. She was so close . . .

    The blonde walked into her room casually.

Angela: “Yes, Sugar . . . ?”

    Jasmine’s hands twitched slightly. She had to have the letter . . . She had to know . . .

Jasmine: “The . . . the letter . . . You need to get it . . . Please . . .”

    Angel examined her carefully, nodding.

Angela: “I’ll get it, Sugar. Just . . . distract yourself ‘till I return, ‘kay? You look like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown.”

    Jasmine didn’t want to tell her that she might be right. She needed to have that letter. She had to see that man. She had to know what all this was, and if it would provide her with what she’d lacked, or just wind up a dead end.

    She really hoped not . . . Jasmine clenched the sheets in her hands, pulling slightly, her breathing ragged. When she looked up, Angela was gone. Long gone. How long had she been staring at the floor? What did it matter, anyway . . . ? Jasmine clenched her eyes shut tightly, trying to calm herself down.

Jasmine: “Make the haze go away.”

    She murmured quietly, trying so hard to envision his face, frustration taking when all she found was the face of that robot that dove into her dreams every now and then. Frustration accompanied by an out of place sense of calm . . . It was all so mixed up . . . like everything had been put in a blender . . .

    She opened her eyes, tears brimming at the edge.

Jasmine: ‘What if I never find out . . . ?’

    The thought was terrifying in it’s own right.

Jasmine: “No! I will find out! I . . . I have to know . . .”

    She got up, trembling as she walked to the jewelry box, removing the small squared drawer that held the few pieces she valued above the others. With shaking hands, she took out the tiny adorned band, slipping it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. And somehow, it calmed her enough to keep her from shaking. She managed to stand still, holding her hand close to her chest, wishing it would act like a balm to the stabbing in her chest.

Jasmine: “I miss you . . .”

    She admitted quietly, wishing the concession would somehow make the man materialize in front of her. She wanted him to. So badly it hurt her to think about him but she couldn’t stop.

    She swore she could feel a tiny hand holding her loose one, but she didn’t want to pull away this time. Just the same, she didn’t want to look and see if anything had materialized by her side. She swore a second hand, slightly larger, took hold of her arm . . .

~General Narration: Angel~

    She was already in town at this point, but that wasn’t because of driving. That’s what she’d rather everyone think, and was the only reason she kept a car at her disposal. Though it hardly got any use, and currently sat behind an alleyway safe from touch, with the maneuvering of a Gate, that is. One of the many Gates to the UP. The Unconscious Plane. Her prized domain that currently dealt with her cursed sister more so than it did her.

    But the Plane was not dead. It was a live thing, with an energy that ebbed and flowed, and thought in it’s own way. It was a fickle thing, and only dealt with Angel when she was an assassin for hire because she didn’t stretch it too far. She worked with it’s energy flow instead of against the current. That was something Bombshell had never learned. She couldn’t even detect the energy’s direction to begin with, so when she accessed the Plane, it caused waves instead of faint ripples.

    And every time her sister entered, left or used the UP for her own needs, Angel could feel it. The Plane groaned into her mind, asking her for aid, asking her to expel her sister the way she should. While it was fickle, the Plane was patient, and soon enough, it would reject her on it’s own terms, expelling her and snapping her control over it.

    That’s what Angel was waiting for. If she let the Plane reject Bombshell on it’s own terms . . . It would be much harsher than anything Angel could dole out to her.

    She forced herself to shake those thoughts away as she entered the building. Not Sara’s building, where she was certain the letter had not yet arrived, but the motorcycle shop across town.

    Akane had been bothering her for a while now, insisting on needing more ‘help’ with Jasmine being the way she was. Akane thought they needed a female bodyguard, but had rejected every single one they’d interviewed so far. It was frustrating, but she knew he’d reject them, and was the only reason she’d consented to do the silly interview in the first place. Now that he was worn down and sick of searching, he should accept the femme she’d had in mind all along.

Angela: “Ariel Celine?”

    She called out, the shop looking empty except for a few bikes; a few Harley’s, Honda’s and others scattered about, most lacking parts from the work being done.

    A woman walked out in a jean-based outfit, pants, jacket and a black cloth shirt underneath, wiping her hands free of grease and oil, some smattered on her face.

Ariel: “What’s it to you?”

    She asked, obviously not impressed by Angel’s lack of motorcycle at her side. Angela cracked a half smile, only further confusing the woman.

Angela: “I have a business proposition for you.”

    Ariel put down the rag on a metal table lined with tools, walking closer to the blonde woman in front of her. Ariel’s hair was a deep blue, Angel already knew this, but small, pink highlights had since been added in. Her short hair was cropped, almost in a masculine manner, but held an air of femininity to it.

Ariel: “What kind of proposition, Miss . . .”

Angela: “Angela. My name is Angela. And the proposition is for you to become a bodyguard for Jasmine Brookes. I’m assuming you’ve heard of her? Possibly seen her?”

    Ariel scoffed.

Ariel: “Yes, I know who she is. But I’m not bodyguard material, thank you very much, Angela. I run a motorcycle shop, not a personal protection business.”

    She turned away, rolling her blue eyes.

Angela: “From what I’ve heard in the underground business, you’re exactly who I’m looking for. We need a female bodyguard, and you’re the best fighter they’ve got. Period.”

    Ariel whipped around, glaring at Angela.

Ariel: “What do you know about that?”

    She barely managed to keep her voice below a shout, her spark pounding in her chest.

Angela: “I know you can incapacitate a man twice your size with ease.”

~~~

    Angela was dressed darkly tonight, trying to blend in with the crowds, a hood over her head to cover her too-light hair. The men were shouting, forming a circle around the fight in front of them. A few women were scattered here and there, but most of them looked terrified or outraged at the violence. Blows could be heard from inside the circle, and a few  men in the crowd moved back at the opposite end of the ring.

    A bit of maneuvering and Angel could see why. A large man had gone flying back, and now the men in the crowd were the only thing standing between him and a rough meeting with the ground. He was removed from the ring and laid down carefully, apparently unconscious.

    Angela moved her way forward, to the inner rim of the crowd, and found why. Exactly who she’d been looking for.

    Ariel Celine. Arcee.

    She was beginning to break a sweat, and her breathing was a little heavier than usual, but Angela had gotten here well into the action, and didn’t know how many opponents she’d already had tonight.

Ariel: “C’mon, boys!”

    She called out tauntingly, obviously unsatisfied with her opponents tonight.

Ariel: “Where’s the challenge? You’re not afraid of losing to a girl again, are you? Maybe all of you shouldn’t be ‘growing a pair’ to become men, but you should be growing a vagina to become a woman! You’re all a bunch of pansies from what I see, anyway!”

    Angel could hear grumbles of frustration from in the crowd. Obviously, the men who thought they were so masculine and capable of beating up anyone, couldn’t beat this small femme. After a moment, a challenger stepped forward into the ring. He was tall, built with bulky muscle and bald.

???: “I’m not going to go easy on you, little lady.”

    He warned threateningly. Ariel only smiled.

Ariel: “You don’t need to. I’ll even let you try and throw the first punch.”

    She stood with her hands behind her back, waiting. The man growled, fist recoiling and then accelerating towards Ariel’s face in a blur, but Ariel’s centuries of training had obviously stayed when she transferred as muscle memory. With ease, she deflected his blows, delivered an uppercut while his punch carried through without a target, sent a quick blow to his midsection, effectively putting him on his hands and knees and finished with an elbow to his back, causing him to faceplant in the dirt.

    It had all taken place in five seconds or less. Ariel brushed herself off, leaving the man where he was.

Ariel: “Next week, will someone PLEASE bring me a little bit of a challenge?”

~~~

    Ariel frowned at the blonde woman in front of her.

Ariel: “And what if I say no? You’ll turn me into the police?”

    Angel shrugged, examining the bikes carefully.

Angela: “Not at all, but I can definitely make the job worth your while. It’s only a temporary thing, I assure you. Just that her head bodyguard wants a woman protecting Jasmine when he can’t be there. Like bathroom trips or something silly like that. The man is ridiculous, honestly, but he just wants to be certain someone can always be with her.”

    Ariel paused, running a hand through her hair.

Ariel: “I . . . I’ll think about it.”

    Angel nodded.

Angela: “Understood. I’ll be checking in on you again soon.”

    She walked out, turning a corner on the street and vanishing, reappearing no more than a block from Sara’s studio. She strode down the street quickly, making her way inside the door.

Angela: “Sara?”

    She called aloud, searching for the eccentric blonde woman cautiously. She was greeted quickly.

Sara: “Well, hello! What brings you by, Angela?”

    Angel’s eyebrows creased together, seeing no letter in Sara’s hands. It should’ve been here by now.

Angela: “No letter . . . ?”

    She asked cautiously. Today’s was supposed to be the last. Had she lost one . . . ? No . . . Certainly not. She remembered the fate of every letter distinctly. Sara’s expression softened, a slight frown creeping across her face.

Sara: “No letter, Angie. Not yet . . . Is Jazz reading them . . . ?”

    Angel nodded, looking down.

Angela: “Religiously. She needs the last letter, pronto.”

    Sara sighed, raking a hand through her shoulder-length hair.

Sara: “I’m sorry, Angie. I’ll call you as soon as I get it. Promise.”

    Angel sighed, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Angela: “For her sake, I hope that’s soon. Very soon.”