@torrancetribune - Enshrouded; Invisible Guest Theory
There is no doubt about it in Invisigal’s mind. Tonight has been nothing less than an indicator that the pressing need to figure out a solution for her situation is paramount. She nearly fell asleep while in her veil of invisibility, waiting for the right moment to steal more food and common supplies.
She was more akin to a rat than a wolf these last few weeks, constantly on the run from authorities, dodging waves of villains all looking for that prized piece of Shroud tech. The mask. The keys to the fucking kingdom.
About now she is regretting even taking the thing. But she wanted to make a point. The point however is not something that is withstanding time well. Not without direction. Not without a plan. Of which she has zip. The only thing she has is a basket of wild emotions with no outlet.
Another reason this is all maddening. Visi lost track of how often she hosts fake conversations in her head with Robert or Blazer or any of the other Z-Team members. Angry, defensive, petty, regretful. She goes through all of them in isolation before sleep wins out. And that too is a challenge when every noise made her jump.
Great fucking going, Court. You’re really in it now.
Vis opens her mouth, sucking in sweet air to relieve the pressure on her lungs, consciously allowing herself to return to the living right in front of the old, abandoned warehouse she calls home. For now, anyway.
Standing under the shade of light cast from the single lamp above the door she stops. Blood runs cold when she notices the padlock she had previously stolen and placed there was missing.
Instinctively the light around her shimmers before removing her presence from sight. Once more under her veil, hand already tightly grasping the handle of the knife under her jacket. Briefly she thinks about running, but that would mean abandoning all of her meager possessions. A dire state to be in given her circumstances. A lesson she knows from experience further down the timeline of her youth.
Stage fright was a hell of a thing, but the Starlet takes the next step anyway. The warehouse seems empty save for her things on the far side. Illuminated only by the light of her open laptop pointing to the wall. Clippings of newspapers and articles cover the metal foundation, all of which report on a singular subject.
Crime statistics climbing, violence breaking out into the streets between rival gangs fighting for power in the absence of a king, then there’s the SDN and the coming sanctions.
The actress shuffles closer, steps heavy with dread despite the space continuing to remain unassuming. Minutes pass before she becomes comfortable enough to allow an exit from her veil of shadows. But the mystery remained and she isn't so stupid as to not understand that a deeper meaning is at play. So, her caramel eyes scan for patterns. Until they land on a headline from the Torrance Tribune, Invisigal: Supervillain or Whistleblower?
What a load a shit! And she can’t even help the snort and snarl that contorts her features while stepping from the shadows and into the light. Turning to the laptop which sits still aglow before going on standby, a notepad file sat open with an address and a single question. Single word. Concise.
The wolf’s eyes narrow with understanding. Gazing over her shoulder back towards the door with a glare, the laptop finally goes dark and the room along with it. That left just the weak hazy glow of red from her mask. But with a conscious effort, the breathing stops and so does any sense of light.
Courtney contemplates running and not looking back. Maybe make her way up to Seattle. But she never really enjoyed the rain much. Besides she had managed to steel her nerves for long enough to make her way to this rental office building within the busy heart of Downtown. No point in stopping now. At least not until she got a better idea of who left her such a nice, totally normal, message.
Visi tries to ignore the feeling that she is about to walk into Patrick Bateman’s lair but as always, she breathes life into her posturing and suddenly the beast inside is quite incentivized to run wild. If needed.
Make way for the lead actress. She moves to take the stage, weaving through the bunch leaving the front door for the clock-out rush. If only she knew what sort of movie this even is.
A few minutes of orienting herself on the map in the lobby later and she’s up on her way to the seventh floor. Took about seven minutes too. But she doubts she’s heading towards heaven. Probably something closer to purgatory. Limbo. Because that’s where she is when she rounds the corner of the hallway and stops right at the designated door.
Hand pauses on the handle, trying a light turn once. Not locked. Not that she really expects it to be with an invitation all but handed directly to her. She swings the door open, a poltergeist within the building before the allowance of oxygen makes her form split visible spectrum and reappear for the scene. "Knock, knock! I'm here for my press junket!"
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