Bet your own life.

@you-look-rather-dashing

The office before her was austere and clean, modern at every angle and gleaming in the sunlight of Downtown LA. It was a remote office— Not the usual headquarters — So Jessica had been lucky when she’d heard the woman was in. She’d been waiting months for just the confirmation of an appointment of interest—

Clearing her throat she approached the double doors, drawing her hand back sharply when they opened in front of her to a gleaming, well-maintained office space. The receptionist didn’t even glance up, and Jessica’s heart rate seemed to bump up slightly.

Shuffling her briefcase she moved forward as she cleared her throat,

“Excuse me—“

“Yes?” No eye contact. Just a brunette looking down at a flat screen with names and numbers. Jessica tried to peer over it to see if she was even on there, but a well-manicured hand slid over it as the brunette finally looked up, a dull but forced smile on her face:

“May I help you?”

Every word was firmly polite, and Jessica fought the urge to frown. Her face tightened as she smiled and shifted her case forward,

“I’m Mrs. Rabbit— Here about Toontown.”

The woman’s eyes flickered some interest, and she opened her mouth to ask,

“Marv-“

“That’s need-to-know, thank you.”

A single, perfect brow and Jessica swallowed hard. She could do this! She was going to press forward, make a case—

And then what? Acme was dead. Toontown was Toon Owned now. But— Little details… Little things had been collapsing. Acme hadn’t really calculated for the long-term effects, and someone strange had been moving in and taking things away. Not so much as one would notice immediately, but enough that it was beginning to build up— Ink around the edges, if you would…

Someone had told her Mirage could help.

Resting her head on the worn wooden desk she closed her eyes, half prepared to take a nap before the old phone rang. Propping herself back up and clearing her throat she answered with a smile in her voice.  

“Mirage Investigations, how can I help you?”

“Ms. Junez, you have a woman here in the lobby who’s asking if you have an opening right now.”

Well she’d been hoping not to talk to Sandra today. Mirage’s office was more styled from a noir novel as opposed to the clean polished aesthetic of the lobby or most other buildings in the office. But at least she had good news for once.

“Oh of course, send her right in.”

name: William (Schwill) birthday: November 23 gender: Male orientation: Gay age: 22

favorite soda: Root Beer favorite candy: Dark Chocolate favorite pizza: Bacon Cheeseburger favorite salad dressing: Pear Vinaigrette favorite meal: Anything with Cheese

best memory: Off the top of my head, singing Mozart’s Requiem back in freshman year of college with my school choir. best friend: Too many to name here. best relative: Mom. best pet: Mimo my cat. best celebrity: Gene Tierney

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➥Legal Name: Elizabeth Maria Junez ➥Nickname/Alias: Mirage ➥Birthday: September 23rd ➥Birthplace: Spain ➥Sex | Gender | Species: Female, Human ➥Preferred Pronouns: She/Her ➥Sexual Orientation: Heteroflexible ➥Spoken Languages: English and Spanish. 

⎨A History Lesson⎬ ➥Education: High School education and a Bachelors in Business. ➥Who were they in school? (class clown, mean girl, etc.) Popular for how she looked, but no one knew how to approach her, so she had a few close friends.  ➥Occupation: Private detective. ➥Occupation they wanted as a child: Explorer ➥Socioeconomic level growing up: Middle class. ➥Socioeconomic level now: Upper Middle class. ➥Living conditions growing up: Mirage grew up in a warm family with two parents who had a stable income so she had a relatively comfortable home to live in. ➥Living conditions now: Studio apartment that she pays for with money she gets from cases, or leftover from Syndromes accounts. ➥Criminal Record: [REDACTED/EXPUNGED]

⎨Relationships⎬

➥Parents: Margret and Mario. ➥Siblings: None. ➥Significant Others: None. ➥Ex-Significant Others: Syndrome, almost Prince Hans. ➥Children: None. ➥Best Friends: The Parr family. ➥Pets: A black cat named Ferdinand. ➥Rivals: None at the moment. ➥Enemies: Syndrome (if he ever came back), most super villains that she’s met.

⎨Let’s Get Physical⎬ ➥Character’s Build: Very slim, slender build. Fit enough to handle herself in a scrap.  ➥Height: 5′7″ ➥Hair Colour: White. ➥Eye Colour: Green. ➥Body Modifications: Ears pierced. ➥Scars/Birthmarks: None. ➥Powers/Abilities: Experienced infiltrator, computer hacker, trained hand to hand combatant, some marksman training. ➥Restrictions: Willing to take risks and chances to do what she wants, very ends justify the means person. ➥Physical or Mental Illnesses: None. ➥Addictions: She likes to drink on occasion and this has gotten her in a couple fights.

⎨The Juicy Stuff⎬

How could the prince do this! How could he turn away Charlotte LaBouff of all people! There were plenty of other girls at the ball the prince could have grabbed and decided she was maybe the one, but the most important was Charlotte! 

Of course, these thoughts weren’t typical of Lottie. Usually, Lottie is very kind and understanding (if a little sassy), but this wasn’t typical Lottie. This was martini-fueled Lottie. Two down, and she was already moping and whining about the prince (she’s a lightweight).

Goodness, how long had it been since this happened? Ten minutes ago? That’s when they met, if she remembered correctly. Upon seeing that the prince had, in fact, not fallen in love with her, she had immediately gone to the closest place that had drinks and ordered herself a martini, having no regard for whomever sat next to her. 

“Oooooh, it’s not fair!” Whined Lottie after her first drink, “Why could the prince choose her over me? Sure she’s pretty, but what else is there! I’m perfect for the prince!”

She wasn’t whining to anyone in particular, but hey, if they’d listen, she’d happily mope about. The poor person that next to her probably didn’t want to hear this.

What she hadn’t expected at the bar was company. Well she figured people would get drinks, but not to stay there and drink. There were people to see and all sorts of tables and rooms. Turning to look, Mirage almost snorted. The tipsy young blonde in a floofy pink dress was pouting and had three martini glasses in front, two empty and one on its way to matching the others. 

Mirage swirled her glass, always loving the sound of the clink of ice against the glass and turned to face the girl. 

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself. What brings you to the party?”

“The honor is mine,” she replied instinctively, “you come recommended by all. You’re reputation precedes you and to have such a revered woman in my court brings me joy.” God she was starting to sound like her mother - the perfect little monarch.

“I wouldn’t mind a meal. The journey wasn’t arduous but the food could’ve been better.” Mirage eyed the guard carefully and kept a slight grip on her briefcase.

“I think for now I’ll keep a hold on it. In case we’d like to discuss plans sooner?”

She wasn’t aware she’d be staying here. The letter had said something about a “royal council” and she’d figured she’d be a consultant. Come to the castle, talk about things, and go back home. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes even from her business suit. Good job underestimating things…

Princess Aurora rarely didn’t ask for much of her court. She was just a princess, new to the tasks and duties of it. Her two greatest fears were going overboard and shooting too low, so she often just felt it was best to let them alone. They helped her with small things and she kept things easy for them. Today, however, she had called the harpist. He was surprised by the request, but eager to play. By her throne the harpist played, easy tunes of old days and chivalry. The princess listened, but as her eyes looked onward to the court she seemed to be empty - her mind lost deep in a space beyond the eyes. 

She was expecting a guest, one she was anxious for and yet not wanting to see at all. Of all the things she ignored, the nastiness of the political realm felt her greatest absence. When she did finally decide to interview a master of the spy realm, her chamberlain gave only a few words. 

“Mirage - she’s worth the risk they say,” Aurora made very few bold choices in her short life. She was a peaceful heart not prone to cruelty. Yet as she awaited the arrival of the new adviser to be she felt in her heart she was to be taking a step down the same road her ancestors had walked - the path of power. The dangerous, delectable road of tastes that has felled royal and fool alike. 

She prayed she was strong enough to wield this new force. 

The guards brought the woman in, and Aurora stood up and looked upon her. From her spot upon the throne area she was elevated a foot above the woman. 

As the doors opened wide Mirage squared her shoulders and gripped her briefcase tightly. The smooth handle in her palms, and the click of her heels against the ground, seemed to instill confidence back in her. She wasn’t here as a private eye or a hero manager. She was here to do what she’d done back with Syndrome; infiltration, reconnaissance, the works. As she looked upon the face of the woman sitting on the throne, Mirage could only hope she wasn’t anything like Syndrome.

Giving a bow, Mirage stood up straight and gave the ruler a small smile.

17.  Muse A was brought along as an awkward third wheel on a date, and then abandoned. Fortunately, they bump into the charming Muse B, who cheers them up.

This was one of the worst things she’d ever agreed to. True she’d agreed to help a psychopath try to kill off an entire race of people, supers, but this was pretty up there. She’d only meant to drop by and say hello to Bob. It turned out he was going on a date with Helen, and somehow he got it in his head to invite Mirage along since the saw her so rarely. So she had smiled awkwardly and sat through appetizers at the restaurant, before she excused herself and said she had a call from the office. 

So here she was, out on a little adventure. Well, adventure was a generous term - she was simply walking out in a slightly foreign place. Nevertheless, it was nice. Concrete pavements had a certain comfort to them; they were ridiculously enjoyable to Jasmine considering the alternative option consisted of sand and thickly caked dirt. 

Giving the woman a smile and brushing a bit of hair behind her ear, Mirage stood up a little straighter to talk to her.