(OOC oh maw gawd!! Sorry it's SOOO long!! It's only an intro, I'll post in shorter spurts straight after! This is a one off, I swear!)<br/><br/>At first there was nothing.<br/><br/>The longest plains of sheer, absolute stillness settled in the thick of it. The impact of the silence could have rivalled the Great Bell Towers of Khal, could have easily brought a thousand Church choirs to their knees and if it really was golden it would have lined every last concrete street and earthworm to boot like El Dorado on steroids.<br/><br/>Beauty twisted in the dead reverence of non-existance.<br/><br/>It was like someone had hidden a small pocket in the universe, a hollow bubble just beneath the skin of reality where endless, seamless, empty chasms of airy nothingness churned like substance.<br/><br/>This was odd because nothing... couldnâ€™t be... something.<br/>This was ground level, first grade and basic physics surely?<br/>It couldnâ€™t contain any substance whatsoever, full stop. It was an unspoken rule; black could not be white, day could not be night and nothing just couldnâ€™t be something! Even if it practiced really hard!<br/><br/>The void swelled and retracted, lacking all scent, all taste and lacking a view, just relentless blackness filling the horizon like a cup, drowning it to the brim and tipping it over, leaking onto the rough, canvas bedding ...<br/><br/>A sharp, unforgivable noise screamed through the air like firecrackers.<br/><br/>A ringing shattered through Amberlies consciousness with a war hammer, headache tucked under its arm with ribbons and a gift tag with just her name on it.<br/><br/>The woman groaned and cracked open half an eye, immediately regretting it for the sudden stark, white light that shot her vision to bits, â€œBastards,â€ she uttered groggily, barely managing the one word, wincing and plunging herself back into what little darkness she could salvage from behind her eyelids.<br/><br/>The phone, nestled smugly on her bedside table did not care for her plight nor did it cease and desist its infernal noise.<br/><br/>â€œI work evenings!â€ she spat, throwing an arm over the monster bed head gnawing at her scalp, â€œI told you! No calling this number at this hour! Goddamn motherfu--â€<br/><br/>Slapping her palm down like a fish out of water until it met the clatter of noisy plastic she hauled the receiver up and tucked it somewhere between her ear and her pillow, â€œYes?â€ She growled, a woman of perfect etiquette and mannerisms.<br/><br/>The chirruping of static greeted her and then, out of the blue, a deep noise struggled through the bad reception, a deep noise mimicking some very familiar sing-song tones, â€œWeheyall! Gâ€™morning sugar tits! Itâ€™s eleven peeeyeem, yes, thaâ€™s eleven in the afternoon for those of us still wearing our bed heads and itâ€™s a glorious, sunny--â€<br/><br/>Amberlie felt a low growl roll out from the back of her throat as if squeezed out from stretching, tip to toes, nails scratching the coarse material beneath her, the length of her spine cracking satisfyingly. The tacky, plastic receiver wormed its way out from under her ear and slid down the pillow as she left Margot to his chirpy, sickly, radio imitating morning call.<br/><br/>After a long buzzing noise she plucked up the phone again and hauled herself upright, feet sliding off the bed and toes nuzzling the carpet, â€œCan it Margot,â€ she muttered dryly and started hunting for something to slip on.<br/><br/>â€œAah, they got you working still?â€<br/><br/>â€œWell, they havenâ€™t fired me yet,â€ there was even a small flash of delight through the dreary, lingering sleepiness as her fingers found the smooth material of yesterdays shirt, hung almost decoratively over the lamp, â€œLook,â€ she tucked the phone between her shoulder and jaw as she pulled the garment across her shoulders, â€œis there a point to this conversation or are you getting lonely already?â€<br/><br/>â€œWhat job they gotchya on now Missy?â€<br/><br/>She could practically see the little Meak Demon, leant back in his chair, spindly legs coiled around each other on the desktop, the curly phone wire looped around his bony digits thoughtfully. In fact she couldnâ€™t just see it, she knew it!<br/><br/>â€œWhat cogs are turning in that pretty little head of yours demon?â€ Amberlieâ€™s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Demon was a nice derogatory term just for him. Most, if not all minor demons despised their classing, unless, of course they lacked the intellect to realize their true lack of potential and how their tagging highlighted such a fact.<br/><br/>â€œOh none, none at all,â€ he replied cheerily.<br/><br/>Oh yes, the game was definitely afoot.<br/><br/>â€œJust, job baby, what one?â€ he continued.<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™m chasing the Tenoshi case,â€<br/><br/>A long shudder of static down the line told her that Margot had just sighed. It was the most open display of sympathy sheâ€™d ever had from the organ grinders monkey in years.<br/><br/>Margot acted as a type of manager for her, raking his grubby digits up and down the country and landing them in everyone elseâ€™s pies, worming his way through prison bars and through the drafty gaps under the doors into council meetings.<br/><br/>Amberlie never accused him of being an unheard of Saint or of being particularly intelligent, no, Margotâ€™s street value came from the squat creatureâ€™s uncanny ability to squeeze clients for every penny, like juice from lemon. A talent no doubt spawned from his lawyers tongue and artistic licensing wherever the â€˜true seriousnessâ€™ of the situation was involved, two killer traits picked up from a major in drama and a minor in law.<br/><br/>Amber might have been more grateful for him if sheâ€™d dug him out him rather than vice versa. Him having contacted her meant only one thing, she was being screwed over in the long run, most likely for her own personal funding, the slimy bastard, but at the end of the day he was good for business and he was as much as a servant to rules as they came.<br/><br/>He just knew them maybe a little too well, that was all...<br/><br/>â€œChasing the paper trail no doubt, Iâ€™ve seen the pictures, thereâ€™s no way in all the hells on earth theyâ€™d let a rookie like you on site. Not with articles that graphic. Yum, yum yum. Anyway you can drop that one like hot potatoes, Iâ€™ve got something better for you!â€<br/><br/>Ambers head reeled, â€œI canâ€™t just--â€<br/><br/>â€œAlready arranged honey-buns, thought youâ€™d like this one too much to say no,â€ he added casually, probably ogling the new figure heâ€™d been sent for this new job, admiring the sleek curves of the Oâ€™s, wondering what small percentage he should set asides for Amber without becoming technically legible to be sued, â€œThey want you on site. On campus. On the streets, on the beat, on the trot my darling!â€<br/><br/>Amber could hear the teeth clicking together sharply with every excited syllable.<br/><br/>â€œTheyâ€™re called the pic, Preternatural Investigation Crew or something of the sort, nyah! Doesnâ€™t matterâ€”what does though, now listen closely, is that they want themselves a â€˜theologistâ€™â€ the last word blossomed down the line with particular zest, â€œThe next words you will hear will be theirs exactly,â€ a shuffle of paper played down the line as Amber wriggled into the first pair of jeans to find her hands, â€œâ€˜Someone particularly experienced with religious concepts and a thorough knowledge of the Angelii and the Daemonequeâ€™. Good eh? As soon as I heard it I thought of you! What an opportunity, so far up your street, itâ€™s knocking at your door!â€<br/><br/>Amber paused thoughtfully, â€œWhen do they want me?â€<br/><br/>â€œTonight at their place ... next town over,â€<br/><br/>â€œShit!â€<br/><br/>â€œYeah, I know right? I already have transport booked, so Iâ€™d get ready perrrretty fassst! Theyâ€™ll have people out to meet you when you get there,â€<br/><br/>â€œWhatâ€™s the case!?â€ Amberlie spat, wrestling on her boots.<br/><br/>There was a cackle of a laugh, â€œWell they arenâ€™t going to tell me are they!â€ he said like it was glaringly obvious, â€œYouâ€™ll be briefed upon arrival, pink promise,â€<br/><br/>The woman frowned, â€œMargot,â€<br/><br/>â€œYes darling?â€<br/><br/>â€œYouâ€™re the biggest cheap wad I know,â€ and just like that she hung up.<br/><br/>Whatever this job was going to be, she had the strange, unshakeable sensation it wasnâ€™t going to be good ...