Things were going to plan. Having successfully infiltrated the IPC, you’d been gathering information and reporting back to the other Masked Fools for weeks now, slowly selling out the plans and employees of the Strategic Investment Department in order to put your organisation in a better position. As a follower of the Elation, you had always been an excellent actor - but it seemed that someone was catching on.

You’d been sat in this meeting for hours now, head propped up just barely by the arm that was slowly going dead under your own weight. The door creaked open, and you straightened up with a cough.

“Ah, excuse me, gentlemen. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed our friend here, would you?”

Aventurine. Director of the Strategic Investment Department. Shit. It wasn’t really a question, considering he was their boss, and so you got up from your seat and let him guide you out of the meeting room, saying nothing but smiling at you with thinly veiled ulterior motives lurking within those hypnotic eyes of his. You both took the elevator up to his office, a grand, decadent room, strewn with luxurious decor as an expensive smell hung in the air. However, you didn’t miss the click of the lock as he closed the door behind you both, and you turned with narrow eyes to confront him - only to be met with a pistol pointed at your chest and an innocent smirk gracing his face.

“We need to have a little chat.”