"Ma'am. Cooper's returned," a female voice called through the door.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">"Alright, Monica. Bring her in. And come in yourself," Zeke replied.  </span><br/><br/>Monica nodded and looked at Cooper. "She wants to see you. Are you up for it?" she asked kindly.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">Cooper smiled, her cheeks shining with black oil smudges. "Aren't I always?" She wiped her face on her sleeve, not that that did much to help, as she was covered completely in the evidence of her factory work.</span><br/><br/>"You certainly are," she said, smiling broadly. Carefully, she pushed open the door and ushered them both in.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">Zeke looked over and smiled. "Glad you could make it." Her face fell and her lips thinned. "I know I can trust you two, so I'm just going to say this: things are going poorly. We're starving, and a group of show-offs just tried to take out the inner circle. This is not a time to be careless."</span><br/><br/>Monica nodded.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">Cooper nodded as well, clasping her hands in front of her and standing to attention. "There is never a time to be careless, Ma'am," she replied. "Not in these hard times."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">She smiled wryly. "More so than ever, Cooper." Her wry smile became one of determination. "But we'll move past this." She planted her hand on the table. "We're going after one of War's warehouses. Once we get some information on where he plans to be next, we strike, hard and fast." Her one good eye seemed to glow with passion. "We won't let them crush our spirits."</span><br/><br/>Monica grinned. "Most excellent, Ma'am!"<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">"Ah." She filed that information away, to be shared with Death the next time he appeared to her. "I assume that is why you wanted me, then? I happen to know where the bulk of the weapons are being shipped out to-- which warehouse, that is. I've kept notes on all of the shipments from the past five months. Would you like me to prepare them for you to view?" she asked, picking metal shavings out of her hair.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">Zeke grinned. "That would be useful, yeah." Her lips twisted in thought. "Give me the stats for the best-stocked warehouse and a middling one. We'll make like we're going after the biggest one, then hit them in the smaller one. The best-stocked one is an obvious target, and after the last," here she made an angry noise, gesturing wildly, "with the attack, they'll think we're idiots and expect us to go after the largest ones."<br/></span><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">"A subtle and intelligent approach, Ma'am." She drank in every bit of information, already preparing her report to Death. While not as mouse-brained as solely going after the largest warehouse, this plan was still simple and predictable. She hoped that Death would have a few strategic additions that she could suggest to the rebel's... illustrious... leader that would make the plan far more fool proof. "I will prepare my notes immediately, if you wish."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">"Yes, please. I---" She cut herself off and held her replacement arm tightly. She gritted her teeth as it twitched.</span><br/><br/>"Ma'am?" Monica asked, concerned.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">"Out."</span><br/><br/>"But---"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">"OUT!!" she screamed.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">Cooper looked frightened, grasping Monica's hand and pulling her out. Once they had gotten far enough to be out of earshot, she faced the other woman, alarm in her features. "Never 'but' the Leader! She hates it!" she said, voice high and concerned.<br/></span><br/>Monica looked upset. "But she looked like she was in distress," she said, fretting. "Shouldn't we help her?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">She shook her head. "Not when she tells us to leave. There's no way to help, anyway. She won't let anyone else touch that arm. Best to leave her be." She looked down, chewing on her finger-nails.<br/></span><br/>"If you say so," she said, shifting from foot to foot. She played with a curl of her hair, then nodded purposefully and walked off.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF">Cooper breathed a sigh of relief, heading to the small office she shared with three others in the building. Her desk was the old, empty shell of what was once a set of drawers, her chair a stack of cinder blocks and old books. It was every bit as decrepit as the rest of the building, and not even as nice as the rebel leader’s desk. </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #80BFFF"> She began preparing her report for Zeke, and thinking about her report for Death. She didn't dare work on that here, but she could compile information as she flipped through her own notes. She sighed, settling in for long hours of number crunching, attention to detail, and cramps in her hand from holding a pen for too long.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF40">Zeke was in her office, wrestling her arm off. She got it undone and placed on the table, where she glared at it. She went at it with a screwdriver and hammer and pliers, pulling and twisting until she found the loose wire. Once that was reconnected, she got it back in. As the nerves connected again, she screamed in pain. It was unpleasant, to say the least.<br/><br/>Once she could breathe again, she panted and sat down, fighting past waves of dizziness and nausea to focus on reports. Something was happening--they would seem to be fine, then something top secret would be sabotaged. It was confusing and aggravating, and she wanted to find out why she couldn’t seem to get anywhere. One step forward, a step and a half back. Why? She couldn’t figure it out, and it was stressing her out.<br/><br/>Well. Maybe Cooper could help her. The girl was bright and eager to help. Zeke nodded to herself. Once Cooper brought her the information, she’d talk to her about this strange problem she had been noticing.</span>