This Wasn't the Plan, but Okay.

Jerb:

Oak Town. The place of knowledge. The library was Sivvy's intended location today. She loved books and reading, and to be honest, learning was all the clone really knew. A concern had arisen lately, something she didn't know how to really explain, but she definitely wanted to get to the bottom of. After feeling the same for her whole waking life, it was only recently that started to feel tingly. Something was off. At times she didn't feel herself or even follow her normal thought pattern. It was only after the fact that sometimes her head felt fuzzy and her spine itched that she decided to call Dr. Raelin, hoping for a checkup or advice, neither of which she received. Now on her own, she hoped the cause was magically linked, perhaps something to do with her lacrima?

On the way, though, she came across one of the faces on Dies Irae's blacklist. Neophytes were all informed of this particular person. They were tasked to bring him in on sight. The Cringe himself was strolling down the street, fedora sitting slightly askew atop his smug face. If not for memorizing his likeness for just such an occasion as this, nothing about him stood out enough to grab her attention. His red and black button-up shirt was as normal as the khaki cargo shorts he sported above some harmless crocs. Sivvy vaguely started to wonder what had led to him landing on the blacklist, but it wasn't her place to ask such questions. She'd been told to nab him, so nab she would. The library, as well as any of her rare personal endeavors, could sit on the back burner.

Approaching him straight on, 7 didn't pull any punches. "Stop. I need you to come with me," she commanded. The tone she used in her daily life was much different than the forceful confident one she used when sure of her purpose, so there was no indecision here to exploit. Just the same, the Cringe barely even batted an eye at her insistent words. In fact, he simply turned dark eyes on her and smiled. "Well, hello miss," he started out, which didn't seem so bad. She'd heard rumors of his degeneracy, but so far he just seemed well manner-- "You look like the chick on my body pillow," he finished suggestively, snorting some sort of noise she suspected was a laugh. "I don't suppose I could entice you into replacing said body pillow?"

Now, normally 7 was, for lack of better term, a people pleaser. She would do nearly anything she was asked as long as she perceived it as being helpful to that other person since her main goal was to be useful. That said, between this guy being her target for capture superseding her ability to take requests and the fact that the last two things he said managed to rub her the wrong way, a small frown appeared on her lips. "No, you couldn't. You aren't going back to your place anyway. You're coming with me back to Dies Irae headquarters."

"Aw man! Again? I'm pretty sure this is some sort of harassment. Isn't it Magic Council law that someone can't be repeatedly captured by the same pseudo Rune Knight guild over and over again? I'm pretty sure it is. You should look it up, sweet cheeks. Or did your mother never teach you to read?" prattled the Cringe, still seeming smug even as he took a half step back.

"I never had a mother," Sivvy protested, possibly considering that for the first time. Did mothers normally teach reading to their children? She'd never consciously been a child, nor did she have a mother or even a mother figure. In fact, she had no parents at all. Dr. Raelin had made that very clear. "Dr. Raelin taught me to read, but that's not the point..."

The Cringe brought his index finger and thumb under his chin, stroking the scratchy neckbeard he sported there. "An orphan, eh? An orphan experiment. This feels like one of my fantasies...or maybe an edgy fanfic I read once. Do I smell daddy issues? I think I do, heh heh..."

Having quite enough of his insensitive comments on her past and his clear objectification of her in general, the clone reached out to grab his arm. Quick as a coiled cobra, his arm slipped out of her reach, though he didn't run yet. Instead he stood just out of arms reach, scowling.

"I've done nothing wrong! I've extensively studied the laws of this land, and I've broken none of them! False accusations upon my person are reportable crimes. I could have you arrested, honestly, but I won't because you're so small and cute. Sending a little girl after me is pretty low. They must think you're pretty useless!" he taunted. It was pretty clear he wouldn't go willingly, and as soon as 7 stepped toward him, he took off and ran into a nearby forest.

The clone was very fast, so it didn't take more than a few seconds for her to overtake him. As she again grabbed for his arm, he wrenched it away easily due to the slickness of his skin. Within seconds he was screeching like some sort of asylum patient, and with surprising agility, he somersaulted in the air and all his clothes flew off him and fluttered to the ground around him. Standing before her with only his fedora and neckbeard on his body, he turned once more and ran screeching deeper into the brush.

The next few moments were an awkward dance of trying to capture him without touching him. Her aversion was strong, which was new for the girl. Every fiber of her being resisted having any physical contact with the man, but her determination to complete the mission was stronger than her personal preferences. Metal tentacles reached out to try and grip any part of his body, but somehow he always got loose. Her spiders did nothing. Even launching herself at him to try and kick him down to tie him up somehow failed. There was only one way to end this ridiculous hunt, despite his strength being low enough that this should have been no challenge. Running up on him, she threw her body at him with outstretched arms.

Sivvy's mind lit up as her arms wrapped around the slick, sweaty flesh of the infuriating man, pondering how much easier it would be to snap his neck. It'd be a service to all of Fiore at this point, which made it feel okay to do. But the parameters of the mission remained. He had to be brought in alive, which now seemed absolutely baffling. He screeched like a stuck hog, wriggling and trying to get free. It was like riding a bucking bronco, but her grip remained. "Ew..." she muttered, which earned her a scolding for being rude, along with some other off-color comments and incessant squawks about citizenship and rights.

By the time she brought him to Helga back at DI headquarters, 7 was at her patient's end and was quite grumpy. The Cringe had been muzzled along the way and even sported some bruises, but was regrettably still alive and awake. Without even thanking Helga for her payment, she stalked out to work out her frustrations on a poor training dummy somewhere.


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