( closed. ) and the winners get to rewrite history.

[runicking]

WHO: Celeste Winters, Colin Locke, Terra Branford, Yuuri Katsuki
WHEN: January 21
WHERE: The LA County District Attorney's office
WHAT: After receiving a tip from Celeste, the Phantom Thieves investigate a newly uncovered palace, and recruit a new team member.
WARNINGS: Putting up a cursory PG-13 rating on this. This might change depending on which direction this log takes. CWs will be added as necessary.

[ But since Locke went through enough trouble of returning her note, it would be rude not to meet him there. The lack of foresight on his end did give Celeste pause, however; didn't he realize that he only made himself look even more suspicious coming here, especially during off hours? She wasn't exaggerating about his reputation, after all. Even if this was a public space.

He really is good at making a statement, even when it's disadvantageous. It's like nothing has changed.

At least Celeste looks like she's supposed to be here, heels clicking as she briskly makes her way toward the courtyard of the district attorney's office, her gaze periodically flicking down to her smart watch. 2:58 PM—he better get here soon, or else she's leaving. ]

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Comments

[katsufemmefatale]

Good, she's serious. While there's always a chance she could double-cross them, they have to give her the benefit of the doubt. She knows more about her boss than they do, and any information is vital.

"That's the kind of dedication that should exist in the D.A.'s office. Maybe you'll even find the kind of strength we did. Until then, we'll work to fix this corruption in your stead."

He steps close to her, lowering his voice so his next words are for her ears only. "In return, I'd like to ask for your help with something."

[runicking]

She could, but she won't. Betraying them when they saw fit to bring her, to let her see the truth behind the veil of lies and corruption around her, would be gauche. Something like that is far from her understanding of justice.

Frost won't get much of a response from her, but he might catch a subtle quirk at the corner of her lips. Was that an attempt at a smile? "Thank you."

Feeling him step closer, she lets her chin dip slightly. Icy blue eyes catching his gaze through his mask before she directs her attention back to the group. She's listening.

[katsufemmefatale]

Frost's gaze swivels to the rest of the group, watching closely for orders even as he splits his attention. Maybe he feels a bit selfish for springing this on her, but she's the best chance he has at pursuing a legal means of retribution. After all, he's not yet strong enough to face his rival's corrupted heart and he knows it....

"Right before the Winter Olympic selection, there was an incident here in L.A., an attack on an athlete. One of the men's figure skating slots went to another competitor from the same home rink." His voice is cool and even, but there's something subtle lurking in his tone, something bitter beneath the calm. "The attack was ordered by that rival, I know it for a fact, but nothing ever came of the investigation. I suspect it was buried to avoid a scandal. If you can find anything, even evidence of sealed or missing records...."

[returnher]

Locke, who had been leaning against the wall up until now, stands and straightens.

"Plenty of time for that after we work our way through this, eh Frost?"

He turns to Celeste.

"On that note, due to the nature of this world, please don't use our real names. That's Frost, she's Trance, and I'm Hunter. It might go a bit different for you, I doubt this Palace has acknowledged you as an enemy which may give us an advantage. The Shadows here are in some ways a mimicry of the real people within this building, and if they recognize you as belonging, you just might be able to move through without any problem. Think you can get us to your boss's office?"

[runicking]

Her gaze flicks back to Frost as he pleads his case, and while there is no distinct change in her expression, her brows knit slightly. He knew what he was asking her to do, didn't he? But to do that at a time like this, when she's already ill at ease with where she is and why such a place exists... does he know who she is? Who her father is? Or is he asking this because of her position with the DA's office? Regardless of the reason, his words fall flat.

She understands, but there is such a thing as tact and timing.

"I'm just an intern. I don't have access to something like that," She says simply and definitively. It's clear that he has at least a cursory understanding of what he's asking, and she isn't the type to go around digging in classified documents for just anyone—especially not a stranger.

Nodding simply at Locke, Celeste takes a few steps forward. "Assuming the layout is the same here as it is there, that won't be a problem." That did pose a question however. "But if I'm able to blend in, what about the rest of you?"

[returnher]

"We can follow behind. We'll stick to the shadows and come in after you. Ideally we won't engage the Shadows unless absolutely necessary, but if they get aggressive with you we'll take 'em out."

[runicking]

Lucky for them, Celeste doesn't buckle under pressure, and after a brief pause, she begins to walk with purpose. She will trust the rest of them to follow, and even if her gaze wants to trail behind to make sure that they are keeping up, she fights that urge. This place didn't see her as a threat (whatever that meant), so she would use that to her advantage.

It didn't hurt that most of the building was unoccupied—with most offices closed, there was little reason for anyone to be there, outside of those people working overtime. No one would notice her slip past what would have been elevators toward the stairwell, practically sprinting up a few flights of stairs to the third floor. Moving briskly toward one of the closed offices, the name Norman Michael Phelps, Esq. painted on the frosted glass door, Celeste stops.

"Here," She says, fishing in her trouser pocket for her key. Hesitating for a moment in attempt to mentally prepare herself, she puts the key into the lock and pushes the door open.

[returnher]

Sitting at the desk is a man in a long black robe and wide-brimmed hat often seen on Chinese businessmen from the turn of the century with an unctuous expression on his face.

"Ah, Celeste, come in. I've been expecting you."

His eyes are sunken, his appearance not quite right.

As she enters, she may (or may not) notice that there are two enormously burly shadows, also in suits but with glowing red eyes watching her every movement.

"Time's a-wasting. Have you brought the ones I seek?"

Locke, for his part, is not too far behind, hiding against the wall at the office entrance.

[runicking]

Even before she finishes opening the door, her eyes catch a glimpse of someone there, her posture tensing as her hand remains on the knob. He never works weekends, but of course he would be here—this place was brought about by his true intentions, wasn't it? So it would only make sense that he would be waiting for her.

But that isn't what makes her freeze up; not the fact that he's been waiting for her or that there's something intensely Not Right about the way he looks (his eyes, they were glowing gold), but what he says that gives her pause. That was her job, wasn't it? To track one of them at least, and to bring Phelps information to use against him. But to put it so plainly, like all of this was planned...

She's going to have a hell of a time pleading her case, isn't she, with the evidence clearly stacked against her here.

"...That's not why I'm here." She answers after a moment, her hand falling away from the doorknob as she cautiously takes a step forward. Not inside, but standing in the doorway, blocking the rest of the hallway from view.

She can't call attention to the distortion around her, right? That would be bad. But at the same time, this—all of this—it's disgusting. These were what the men pulling the strings at the top were like, men like Phelps and her father, and it's disgusting.

"What is this about?" It's not a question but a demand for information, her eyes narrowing slightly. He can take it as he will. "I have a right to know."

[returnher]

The Shadow's eyes narrow and he snaps his fingers, the two guards stepping in and grabbing Celeste by either arm.

"My dear, I know you love snooping around but these things really don't concern you. If you haven't completed your assignment, I suggest you get back to work. Your father promised you'd be useful, and frankly I've yet to see it."

Locke tenses as he signals Trance and Frost. "This is getting a bit hairy," he murmurs. "Do we go in?"

[terraburning]

Trance considers, remembering her own first confrontation with a Shadow.

"If they attack, we should respond, but..."

She trails off, searching for the right words.

"I think she might need this."

[runicking]

Celeste's eyes snap open as the shadows grab both of her arms, the color draining from her face. Locke—Hunter—warned her that this place was dangerous, and while she had no reason to doubt him, until now she assumed it was all lip service. She can defend herself. But held there before this man like some prisoner, it's the first time she's been forced to face this threat face-on.

But this, she can still handle. Even if her heart is pounding in her ears, she can put up a brave front. As long as it's just her being threatened, she can face this with grace. It isn't until she hears a shuffle of movement behind her that her rough exterior crumbles, as she tries desperately to pull free from her captors.

Because while Hunter, Trance and Frost have been doing their best to keep a low profile, it seems that they have not gone unnoticed. Shadowy workers surrounding the three in an ambush, drawing the phantom thieves out into the open.