((Apologies about the delay between this post and the last. This was surprisingly difficult to type up, for some reason or other.))

[In Heated Pursuit of Lintha Across One of Inside's Busiest Thoroughfares]

Exterminate them. Crush them all in the palm of your hand until your knuckles turn an over-indulgent shade of ash white. Every single one. Smite the deplorable defilers of the sanctity of your most sacred temple, yourself. Take their blood into yourself and swell your power ten times over!

"No!"

Lintha deliriously shouts, drawing the crowd's ire for but a moment as a gaggle of passersby pause to brazenly gawk at the madwoman before continuing to amble along down the paths they have chosen, branching off in a slew of contradictory directions not long after, blending seamlessly into the churning torrent of faces.

Lintha reaches up, clutching her her head betwixt her hands feebly, shambling forward without any special goal in mind. She has to flee. She must escape before the seal is breached!

And then Javert overtakes her. Helpful, loyal Javert. A godsend if there ever was one! He'll assist her in limping out of her predicament, and thank the gods that he recovered in such a convenient time period.

Release me!

Javert couldn't have chosen to show his face at a more opportune time.

A stain begins to blot out the pure white of her shirt. A crimson red tinted discoloration spreads along her skin at an alarming rate.

"This place. Leave."

She can't spare further mental power explaining to Javert why this absolutely must be done. Hopefully he'll do as he is bid without complaint...or delay, for there could be extreme penalties if Lintha is disobeyed.

-------
[Clarissa's Showdown]

Yank! Yoinks! Augh! And all that jazz!

Dexterity Dave succeeds in critically impairing the monster who was chain-whipped by him! Down he goes, like a stubborn felled tree, toppling to the ground, his heavy armor dragging him closer and closer to the ground before he smashes against it with a resounding thud and acute clash.

He's temporarily immobilized. Mustn't have been expecting for Dave to get so bold and adaptive in his countering techniques.

The tumbling innocent man flying out of a window hits the ground hard as Dave neglects to intervene in any sort of daring attempt to rescue him! He shall now be referred to as flat man. Unless Dave intervenes just in the nick of time to slow his descent.

Luckily, his condition is much less severe than his name would suggest. He is chalk full of broken bones, but he is still somehow breathing.

The warrior Dave chucked his shurikans at doesn't even flinch as they ding against his armor. He's more than slightly preoccupied causing colossal amounts of collateral damage to the squalid structures lining the streets.

Clarissa, on the other hand, is quite miffed at Dave. Dave said some things which hurt her deep like nothing else could. Although she does a flawless job of covering up her emotions with dispassionate brutality, she's far beyond the point of tears by now. And she's burned the bridge leading back over the bottomless precipice.

She glares at Dave with a look that would freeze a lesser man in his tracks, were her eyes not so mournful. She's clearly irked with him for following her to this field of valor uninvited and entirely unwanted. Outwardly, she's scolding him for his inadmissible behavior. Inwardly, his poorly chosen words are searing through every fiber of her mind, charring her love of Dave and ushering in a period of numbness which will soon decay to a flurry of spirit-mauling affliction.

"Do you want to talk with me or do you want to"

Clarissa flexes her fingers in the universal symbol for air quotes.

"'talk' at me. Well, I think you should have no trouble spitting out your words in between spitting out your teeth, Mister Better-Than-Thou-Art."

"Let me guess, you are shockingly upset that I forcefully dumped you off of me to get far, far away from you. Is that it? Or maybe you are about to preach to me and chide me for, y'know, splitting a dude open in order to rid myself of you. Either way, I don't care. It is well within my rights to exact payment from your whole species for how they have made me suffer and bleed and worse over the span of several lifetimes. It is perfectly acceptable for me to spill their blood in exchange for all of the horrors they have subjected me to. You don't know my story, so you couldn't understand. Know that I wasn't exaggerating when I said that you were the first person to ever treat me with common decency in all of my combined lifetimes...or so you misled me to believe."

"I comprehend everything that you meant with those words you spoke. I'm not as dimwitted as you'd accredit to me! You really had me going there, but now I realize that the only reason you ever wanted to keep me around was because you wanted this. You wanted my body. You don't love me. You lust for me. And if you think otherwise, then I doubt you can differentiate between love and lust at your current level of maturity."

Feel the disdain, Dave!

[Inside Warehouse Raid]

In the notebook is nothing more noteworthy than a simple image. A detailed image worth more than a thousand words to the perceptive scholar, no less. It appears to be a chart of some sort. A map, for lack of fancier words. It appears to be a map of a subsection of the Red Zone whose residents have devoted their lives to the service of a peculiar goddess of vengeance. Perhaps she is planning some sort of campaign against this divinity or something? Now is not the time reserved for speculation yet. Now is the time for action! That is what the bright blue explosions ripping through a detached shack on the property belonging to the factory would suggest, anyway!

The factory is extremely boring and all too normal on the outside, so I won't go into much depth on it.

Too bad about the damage done to the vehicle, though. It looked really cool before Percilia made the mistake of putting a new driver behind the wheel.

-------
[Theater Plot]

The front of the theater isn't precisely well-lit, so Fade should be able to slip right on in through the main doorway without encountering many considerable problems or obstacles. Likewise for Jane's situation. I think that strolling on in through the front doors like regular play-goers might be an all-around more effective, though, as it would make them appear less suspicious and their cover wouldn't have any sort of chance at being blown, presumably, even without disguises as they aren't at all expected to show up guns blazing for the opening of the play. A quick preview of the plot is ongoing, presented by a short human male wearing a jester's outfit indicating that approximately one round of posting remains before the first act actually opens and everything goes to heck.

Get into position, folks! This is going to be an intensely rickety rollercoaster once the shooting starts up!