Who: Rylee and Cyril What: Shi made a mess and needs The Cleaner Where: Boston When: 2am Tuesday Rating: PG-13
Rylee had gotten the call from the Syndicate that a potential lead from the kidnapping was in her area. Her mission was to track the guy, observing contacts and gleaning any other information possible. So, she'd donned Shi's costume - almost identical to Anonymous's costume, but with a black mask with red spray across it to look like blood spatter, and a different katana. She'd also brought along Sparky in case the guy needed to be subdued. However, tailing wasn't a skill she had mastered yet. She was more of a "I hit you in the face so you come quietly type," so she had botched the mission. Badly. How the fuck was she supposed to know the guy had a pacemaker (she still didn't - not until the body got back to the lab)? But there she was, with a fucking dead lead.
So, of course, she had called The Cleaner, and she was sitting on a random crate by a dumpster, staring at the results of her failure. Seriously, it seemed about time to call it quits on life. She'd fucked it up with Zack (how - she still didn't know), God knew she wasn't a real hero and didn't belong in the Night Guard, and now this. Fucking hell. She really wished she smoked as a habit because she needed something right now. Anything.
And, of course, the Universe saw fit to surprise her. Did everyone she fucking knew have a secret identity? Her gaping wasn't visible behind the mask, but she was. Gaping at Cyril Lamont, head geneticist of Kingate. What. The. Fuck.