Trixie McAllister had a plan.
She knew all about the recent attacks around Rhy'din. First off, she'd heard them. It was hard not to. Secondly, she'd smelt the aftermath (burning flesh was so not a scent she could forget or ignore). And now, she was catching word that the local newspaper, The Oracle, was getting letters from the ones responsible.
Watch closely, kids. Here's where the plan happens.
So, Trixie was a Scathachian, right? Being such, her life's work was to provide justice, to protect, to be a sort of judge...all that jazz. And Rhy'din was a city known for crime and for a seriously lax law enforcement agency (the letter had a point). It was the perfect place for a person like her to reside, except...
Sometimes, it was hard to pin a perp. Bad things were going on all the time. Where does a person start?
Idea. Light bulb. Superman.
Superman?
Yes, Superman. Clark Kent. Mild-mannered--what folks? That's right. Mild-mannered reporter. After a brief discussion with her sister, Izz, and a decision to forego the nerdy and quite useless specs as a disguise, the pair had decided maybe it would be a good idea to go undercover. The newspaper was already drawing in fan-mail. Plus, they'd be in the perfect position there to snag breaking news, and possibly gather enough clues and leads to bring in the bad guys. She, for one, thought it was an excellent plan.
Now all she needed was to secure the jobs. She wrote out a note using her best cursive (it totally took her ten tries. She hadn't written in script for decades), and slid it underneath the paper's office door.
On the outside, it read:
"Seeking an interview; Hoping for Employment"
And on the inside? Contact information. Yeah, she was a genius, all right.
She knew all about the recent attacks around Rhy'din. First off, she'd heard them. It was hard not to. Secondly, she'd smelt the aftermath (burning flesh was so not a scent she could forget or ignore). And now, she was catching word that the local newspaper, The Oracle, was getting letters from the ones responsible.
Watch closely, kids. Here's where the plan happens.
So, Trixie was a Scathachian, right? Being such, her life's work was to provide justice, to protect, to be a sort of judge...all that jazz. And Rhy'din was a city known for crime and for a seriously lax law enforcement agency (the letter had a point). It was the perfect place for a person like her to reside, except...
Sometimes, it was hard to pin a perp. Bad things were going on all the time. Where does a person start?
Idea. Light bulb. Superman.
Superman?
Yes, Superman. Clark Kent. Mild-mannered--what folks? That's right. Mild-mannered reporter. After a brief discussion with her sister, Izz, and a decision to forego the nerdy and quite useless specs as a disguise, the pair had decided maybe it would be a good idea to go undercover. The newspaper was already drawing in fan-mail. Plus, they'd be in the perfect position there to snag breaking news, and possibly gather enough clues and leads to bring in the bad guys. She, for one, thought it was an excellent plan.
Now all she needed was to secure the jobs. She wrote out a note using her best cursive (it totally took her ten tries. She hadn't written in script for decades), and slid it underneath the paper's office door.
On the outside, it read:
"Seeking an interview; Hoping for Employment"
And on the inside? Contact information. Yeah, she was a genius, all right.