And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill...

[thrillofthekill]

[[OOC: Party thread of awesome, guys! This operates on the same scale as all of our party threads in the past. For those of you don't remember or weren't here. See the following threads. Those of you who have archangels waiting in the wings can fill free to tag in and chat amongst your fellows. Those of you have kids already in the basement can

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[nowinprint]

Dmitri, because she cannot leave an issue alone (and the official city records have to me MULTILATERAL and BALANCED!), has come into the basement seeking an interview with Romana. Hey, maybe the First was a bit cranky when she got shot up by Harkness, but who wouldn't be? She's probably past whatever pushing-people-into-Rifts aggression cropped up right after the fact. And who doesn't want to see their side recorded for posterity?

Instead, she's found a crowd of people milling about and looking like Archangels. Except for that one guy in the purple suit. Whatever. She has a feeling that Romana will probably not have much time for her just now.

She slips into the press, reporter's notebook out, and singles out one of them - Mitsuki, as it happens. "Hey," she says, letting out her wings, just to look like she fits in. "Dmitri Lang, Angel of Knowledge. Want to give me a statement for the record?"

[armedandangelic]

Mitsuki doesn't actually look up from her palm pilot, because SCHEDULES. They must be PERFECT. Thankfully, however, she is actually a relatively pleasant person for an angel who spends most of her time cursing over the phone at gunrunners and the like. Also, she has a soft spot for Angels of Knowledge. Tokyo boasts one of the highest concentration of them in the world and Mitsuki always thought that's what her calling should have been if she had to have a calling, instead of that which kills things. Not that she's not really good at killing things.

"I have a few statements about how traveling in an obscenely small minivan from O'Hare to here with this many bumpkins should be elected as the eighth level of Hell, but I bet that's not what you're asking."

Oh girls. Have fun.

[nowinprint]

Dmitri chuckles. "Tell me it wasn't a rental. Not that I imagine a minivan to be typical Archangel gear, but rental minivans bump it down at least another two circles, in my mind." She's scribbling notes, as well. It's not sure what they're on, as they haven't gotten past the "poking fun" stage of the meeting yet, but Dmitri will find something to write about if nothing presents itself. "So, did the bumpkin poobah give you a reason for dragging you all in, or is it just to appease Lady Angelos?"

She pauses for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin.

[armedandangelic]

"Okay. I won't tell you, but I will say if Vince had to buy the damn thing, I would have shot him in the kneecap." She says that out of love, because she loves her captain. Really

[nowinprint]

Dmitri is liking this little Archangel. Liking her a lot. She's got attitude.

"South America?" Dmitri pokes her head up. "Like, where in South America. Where I'm from, we had this big problem with a family of nephilim in Suriname who decided to go on a racial superiority kick. Man, and you think nephilim would be the last..." She trails off, giving Mitzi a considering look. "Yeah. I'm from the next Chicago over. Came through the Rift in a Great Experiment sort of thing." She jerks her pen sideways, like the other Chicago is right over there!

[armedandangelic]

And Mitzi's thinking this chick's not too bad herself.

"Brazil, for the most part, although that Neq's got strongholds fuckin' everywhere in that general area just to piss off any archangel infiltration squad who gets frisky." An eyebrow goes up at the mention of the Nephilim, because that didn't happen as far as she knows, but then the reason why presents itself and she makes an audible noise of realization. "Oh... Well fuck me without mercy, that's impressive. Another universe almost just like this one. Jesus, that'd make my tech boys happy. They could prattle on about the Rift until the sun burnt out."

Most of them were very sad to hear they weren't going to Chicago with her.

"I'm Mitsuki, by the way. Mitsuki Takahashi, weapons dealer out of Tokyo. I'm also his-" she jerks her thumb towards Vince "-assistant. In a sense."

[nowinprint]

"Damn, yeah, some Neq are like that," she agrees. "Smart, in a kinda those-damn-fuckers kind of way. You know, there was Muslim First Angel who made a really close study of Neqa'el tactics and actually used them to hold Arsuf in the 1190s in the Third Crusade. I mean, the Crusades were human, mostly, but sometimes you can't beat an Archangel for offensive warfare and sometimes you can't beat a Neqa'el for defensive. It's instinct or something. Some freakish racial memory."

She taps her notepad.

"Oh, hey, you hear anything about this local guy? I've talked to literally dozens of people and all of them say he makes as much sense as a dachshund in a blue dress. A few demon haunts muttering about his pansy-assed excuse for an attempted empire. Sounds like a character."

[armedandangelic]

Mitsuki? Really should have been an Angel of Knowledge. Occasionally it's damn near crazy how much she adores history