<strong>0121 Hours. Current Location: Interpol Headquarters, New Vegas Branch. Eighth Contestant's Name: Erizen Prophecy.</strong><br/><br/>Sitting in the dark, plain room in the early hours of the morning were two figures. The first was a skinny, gaunt, boney man wearing a blue Interpol uniform, the double-breasted jacket covering the badge which hung around his neck. He was speaking to a second figure, sitting just across from him.<br/><br/>"...reason to believe whatever is causing these portals in dimensions is weakening the fabric of our own. We fear that if these wormholes don't stop opening, they'll turn our world into swiss cheese. If what the Steel Lance tells us about you is true, you have a shot at closing all of these wormholes."<br/><br/>"Dozens of mercs working for the Lance." The other figure, a woman in a long, elegant and flowing dress spoke, tossing her long red hair behind her. "Why me?"<br/><br/>"Skill, my dear. Pure and simple. There are rumblings in the Lance. Your commander himself called you the Crimson Death. You get results, and that's more then I can say for any of my soldiers here. We need someone who can work undercover, play whatever game they have on the other side, and shut it down. What do you say, Erizen? You in?"<br/><br/>"What's the pay?" She continues, her eyes never leaving the man. He picks up an envelope from the floor and empties the objects inside before her on the table, a few stacks of hundred credit notes falling out.<br/><br/>"Three million credits. One and a half mil in advance, and the rest upon completion. The woman in the dress, one Erizen Prophecy, takes one of the stacks and flips the bills in her hands.<br/><br/>"Backup?" She asks simply, thumbing the bills some more. The man shakes his head silently. "Going by myself... alright." She spoke, putting the stack of money in her dress, making sure the bills were secure in her bra. "How do I get there?"<br/><br/>"A portal opened up outside Gamorrah. You'll take that portal to wherever they're going. Once there, mingle, get to know people, and make connections. If they're shredding the fabric of reality over something trivial, or dangerous, shut it down." She gives a nod and stands. "Oh, Erizen, one more thing. The gloves are off in this one. If you've got to kill, do it." She nods and exits, grappling the massive red scythe on her way out.<br/><br/><strong>Gamorrah; New Vegas.</strong><br/><br/>Several Interpol Agents had sealed off the entrance to Gamorrah, keeping the people at bay as agents surveyed the swirling blue mass.<br/><br/>"Lady Erizen." One agent, who she worked with a few times in the past, spoke, saluting her. "Are you the one they sent to investigate all this Fringe activity?" She gave a nod. "Here, this is what data I have on the portal storm..." She cut him off with a raising of her hand.<br/><br/>"I don't want data. It's always wrong." She told him frankly, staring at the portal. "There's only one way." Leaping into the portal, she traveled through it to it's destination, her mission briefing the only thing keeping her lunch down. Upon exiting the portal, her Scythe would slam into the ground first, tip first, while she landed gracefully upon her feet. Standing from her crouch, she surveyed the area. A few strange folks on that end of the room, but nothing too outlandish. The gate they were waiting by read 'Dead Or Alive' over it. That might have been her ticket. She walked towards it, and shouldered her way between a strange dark-skinned woman and an even stranger half man half animal... thing. Having rudely split them up, she sat on a chair, stabbing the one just across from her with her scythe, the shaft of the weapon pointed to her. She took out a book from under one of the seats and began reading.