'Till Something Breaks -Ilixie/Open-

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It felt good to be the boss. "Hey! You! Get me the mission folder from your last mission!" she yelled, pointing at an unfortunate Imum grunt. At the moment, she was standing atop his desk, pointing down at him. He scrambled to find the file that Chika had so graciously kicked onto the floor along with all his other paperwork.With shaking hands, he picked it up and offered it to her. She indifferently took it, flipped through the papers inside, then threw those on the ground as well. "Now get me some hot cocoa!" she demanded. "But I'm right in the middle of---" he began. "I am your superior! And I demand that you get me hot cocoa!" she hissed. Without hesitating, the grunt stood up from his chair and ran off in search of hot cocoa. Chika crossed her arms, kicking a paperweight off the desk. All eyes were on her. She loved it. "You!" she pointed to another unfortunate grunt who then stood up at attention, though he was visibly shaking. "Get over here and pick up all these papers! It's a mess. And I hate messes!" she huffed. He promptly made his way over to the desk she was at and began scooping the papers off the floor, doing his best to hastily shuffle them into a neat pile. "While you're at it, find the papers from that mission folder. I've decided I want them!" Having been recently promoted, Chika wasted no time in exerting her powers over the now-lowly grunts.

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[♫~Leap~♫]

She felt cut off. There were two hands - strong, powerful, unrelenting - at her throat, squeezing ever so tightly, inflicting pain and a major lack of oxygen. There was a giant weight resting on her chest, crushing her fragile frame and confusing her infantile mind in a number of ways. To put it very simply; she couldn't breath. Or, at least, it was beginning to feel that way. There was no air passing through her longs, breathing life into what would otherwise be just another puppet on strings. Was that all she was? A marionette to be toyed with to the enjoyment of others? Now adays, it certainly felt like it. She could have been promoted to Elite. She could have done what she wanted around the organization. She could have been free. All of this... if not for the dreaded puppet master who insisted on holding her back. She would have screamed, but she needed permission to do that. To vomit, releasing all of the horrors rising in her stomache, but that also required permission. To run away from it all, lay down somewhere, and die. But "you're to precious for that, Ilixie" or "we'd be lost without you" or "you're the only one to keep the others in line". They were all lies. Lies.

That along with the rest of her life as a whole.

The Team Imum Headquarters was especially sickening for Ilixie. The strong scent of floor cleaners, sweat, and - may I remind you - the decaying bodies of past victims in some areas was enough to make a person sick. That, of course, required permission, but that was another story entirely. People were scurrying this way and that, returning from missions, leaving for new ones, reporting to higher ups, and, no matter who the person was, working like a slave. How could people put up with this heart breaking nonsense? It tore at her enough to be here by force. One would have to be fairly ill in the head to come here out of their own volition, which was quote a lot to say, coming from a mental unstable freak like herself. Sometimes, it made her wonder whether she was truly as similar to the others as Ciello always told her. All those thoughts, however, were banished immediately after being concieved. So, one might wonder, why was she that if it was such a terrible place? The answer was very obvious. Because she had to be. Direct orders from her master.

Apparently, there was an Elite member of the team who went by the name Chika - wasn't that Spanish or something? Hm. Maybe her mind was failing her. Wouldn't be the first time. Wouldn't even be the hundreth - that she was supposed to report and take orders from for the remainder of... the next few days. The blue-haired man would not be able to balance baby sitting a nuisense such as herself and taking care of his job as an executive for a bit, so he decided to drop her on one of the recently promoted members. Those who where promoted to a higher rank, she'd observed, seemed to have a bit of an ego and abused their new found powers of being able to order around other people depending on their rank. In other words, they were downright bossy and people to avoid. She would know; the girl had been a member of this dreadful place for almost three years. In all that time, though, she'd never actually come in contact with the red-haired beast that she was to be presented to today. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The pig-tailed trainer made her way down the barren hallways with as great haste as she possibly could. Maybe, she could get a good look at whoever this person was and, if they weren't worth her time, she could slip away for a bit and not have to deal with her the entire time. She was still on a leash, but the rope was not nearly as long if Ciello was away and not there to examine her every move and word. Of course, if she were caught wandering about, she would likely be in a great deal of trouble shortly afterward and would be turned into that very man not moments later. As to what he would do to her, she did not want to know. If the punishment were anywhere near as last time, she would likely wake up terribly soar and covered in bruises and cuts. There was no time for slacking off. Slackers recieved only the worst of the worst punishments, after all. After brushing by a few other people and colliding with some head on, successfully knocking her to the cold floors down below their feet more than once, a sort of... shouting hit her ears, causing her to freeze dead in her tracks.

"Hey! You! Get me the mission folder from your last mission!" Ah, there it was. The sound of an immature woman who thought she could get away with screaming at her inferiors because no one would say otherwise. She already knew what kind of person she'd be dealling with momentarily; someone with all bark, but no bite, she had to assume. These kinds of people sickened her the most. Of course, because this stranger was higher in rank, she had no coice but to join in on the group of frightened grunts who scrambled to do as told. The sound of papers being fiddled with, then tossed carelessly aside could be heard even though the door that the grunt had her ear pressed against, followed by the sudden order of "Now get me some hot cocoa!" The person being spoken to made the poor decision of trying to get out of his new "job". "But I'm right in the middle of-" It was a futile attempt, of course. Mesely excuses would only get one so far. "I am your superior! And I demand that you get me hot cocoa!" As the grunt raced out of the room, hot on the pursuit of where he could find the ingrediants for such a drink, she slipped silently through the door and pressed herself against to wall as not to be seen by the wicken witch. She'd chosen the wrong outfit that for trying to blend in; her blue and white dress with red accents all about was certainly not something your average person wore every day. She'd be spotted in a heartbeat and had that index finger of their "superior" thrown her way.

"You!" Ilixie tried not to let out a breathy sigh as more orders were tossed around the room. "Get over here and pick up all these papers! IT's a mess. And I hate messes!" Grumbling under her breath, she hissed, "Than why make them in the first place, moron..." "While you're at it, find the papers from that mission folder. I've decided I want them!" Oh, this scene was becoming old already. How much longer would this pointless game continue before someone stood up against her with a simple "no"? Blue eyes flashing to the grunt beside her, she was meet with a pleading look. "Get me out of here," they seemed to say without truly speaking words to her. She wasn't sure whether the abuse of power or the ones letting themselves be abused in such a manner was worse. Either way, it made her sick to her stomache. The taste of metal flooded her mouth as she began chewing on her lip to occupy herself while watching the events transpire before her. Darnit; she'd broken the skin. Cursing under her breath, she found that she could no longer take this kind of act hands down. Someone had to put the red-haired female in her place and it looked like she was the only one who could do it.

"You shouldn't order people around like that," the pig-tailed female growled menacingly, taking a step forward and shoving some grunts - who, frankly, looked about ready to soil themselves - out of the way. "I don't care who you think you are, but I'm not going to listen to this crud any more. Not from you, anyway."