To Gain, One Must Lose... | Wamoal Tech Co. 8

Johr-Illa, Gromver | 1895 | Company 8 Building

The sound of the bustling city could be heard outside, people walking about, cars passing, the hum of magic stone engines, vendors selling items to the public, birds flocking on wires. The tap of a pen on the side of a chair echoed through the room.

Abella sat on one of the seats at the reception, sunken into the chair, head leaned back as she tapped impatiently on the side of the seat. Her brown hair was messy, slightly unkempt as if she didn't stop to comb before coming. Her eyes were a striking red, but carried the cadence of a child impatient at a long line. She groaned, sinking further down.

"Ughh... This is taking forever. I came early for this, what's taking them.." She whined, turning to her side, resting her hand on her stomach. Her back sunk into the chair she was seated on, going lower. She reached her pen out and poked Victoria in the soldier. "Hey. Hey. Hey." Once, twice, thrice-

"Would you stop it." Victoria snapped, arms folded as she waited. She turned to Abella, brows furrowed, obviously irritated. Her own hair, unlike Abella's, was neatly done, her clothes were professional, put on as if she spent most of her time before this perfecting her look before going out. Her perfume was a mix of a sweet lavender, filling the air around her with a soft scent. "If you're here, you wait like everyone else." She glanced at Abella, eyes narrowing. She observed Abella, eyes scrutinizing the lady beside her "And sit up, you'll ruin your back like that."

Gilbert leaned in from his chair, fiddling with his fingers. His eyes drifted along the room, looking around for any sign of anyone entering or leaving. "She's got a point, they are taking longer than usual, I wonder what's holding them up." He said, cracking his neck. The sound of each pop echoing in the air a bit. He checked his pocket watch, looking up at the desk. "I wonder what's holding them."

The distinct sound of a pen on paper could be heard from the side. There, Chance sat, writing or doodling something in his notebook, no one knew. His rich, dark skin glowed in the sunlight. His pen strokes distinct on the paper, writing in another language, most probably his native tongue. Abella scooted over to him, leaning over, trying to peek at what he was doing.

"What're you doooing.." She dragged out with exaggerated curiosity, mostly springing from her excessive boredom. Chance promptly closed his book, turning to her. "I would appreciate it if you kept a distance." He replied, setting the notebook on his lap. The book's cover was made of a black leather, the image of a hawk on the front.

"Awww, whaaat~," Abella dragged out again, leaning back reluctantly. "I just wanted to see what you've got in that notebook of yours. Is it doodles? Are you embarrassed by your art?" She said, poking his shoulder with her finger. Chance sat there, staying silent but obviously irritated by Abella's boredom driven invasiveness.

The door opened as Johan came rushing in. His hair was put together in a rush, slightly messy. He quickly took a seat, trying to look as composed and nonchalant as possible. Juxtaposing that were her hands, tapping up and down on his lap with nervous valor. He then turned to Victoria. "I'm not late am I? I got caught up on the way here." He said with a sheepish grin, trying to downplay his tardiness.

Victoria turned to him slowly, deadpan. "You're just in time." She replied dryly before looking back, ignoring him, already tired of Abella's antics and not wanting more.

"Alright Ladies and Gentlemen." A female voice called out, Mina walking into view, clasping her hands together. Her smooth black hair draped on her shoulders like waterfalls, ruby eyes looking at everyone present. She wore a stylish outfit, something you'd only see at a fashion show. "Sorry for the delay, but I see you're all here." She said with a bright smile, placing her hands together. "As you know, you've all been selected to work in Company 8 of the Waomal tech Company." She placed a hand on her chest. "I am Mina Etra, your senior and lead of the Media section in the company. All those advertisements and marketing you see, all me~. I'll be introducing you to the place."

Her hand gestured to her left, the right if someone was facing from the door. "East wing you can find the garages and shops, that's where you'll be interacting with customers." Her other hand gestured over to the right. "West wing is where your personal workplace and offices are. North wing is where you'll be living in the dorms and the South wing is the main field. We'll get you assimilated properly into the company, and you'll be good in no time." She spun around, looking at everyone, eyes gazing over them, assessing them, but mostly just assessing their senses of fashion.

"Anyone have any questions?"

Johr-Illa, Gromver | 1895 | Main streets, Near Factory

Victoria walked calmly down the street, adjusting her vest as she carried her briefcase. She had been sent on a job with you to go fix some electrical issues near a large factory producing magic stones. She looked around before turning towards you.

"It should be around here."

She turned before entering the factory grounds. She stopped as 2 people approached, factory workers. She stood straight, listening.

"Something's wrong here with the electricity. It's causing the halt of production, we've already have multiple workplace accidents and almost a death. We've shut down for now to prevent any other injuries. We tried to find the issues ourselves but our technicians suddenly disappeared." The first worker explained, a concerned look on his face. The second worker spoke up. "We've suspected sabotage, but with the technicians gone, we don't have any suspects, whoever did it knew where to hit. So that's why we've called you here."

Victoria's eyes narrowed, her finger going to her chin, other hand folding and resting on her elbow. "... I see. It could potentially be sabotage, but there's a possibility that it was a minute malfunction that sprung out if it's not obviously seen." She put her hands down. "We'll investigate it, and find a way to repair the damage."

She walked forward as the two workers guided her to where the issue was most prominent. They stopped by a tank container, which seemed to have exploded, black soot covering the ground. "Here's where the first accident was, one of the other workers broken their arm once it exploded near them. We'll leave you to it." The two workers said, turning and leaving to go back to their offices.

Victoria walked up to the tank, kneeling down. She took out a piece of paper, rubbing it against the residue. "An explosive reaction, but it's unnatural." She stood up, walking up to the pipes, trailing her hand along the pipes, she traced the pipes before reaching a wall. She stopped as the pipe entered the wall. "Hm.."

Victoria then made her way into a small door in the side, entering the narrow hallway of pipes. She traced her hand to the same set of pipes before stopping, feeling something on one of the lines. "It's brittle here, signs of frost. It was destabilized purposefully which caused the explosion. It seems that there's a saboteur." A pause. "But who would want to sabotage this place?" She took out a light, pointing it at a wall nearby, a symbol engraved with blood on the wall. A circle with two crescents on each side.

She reached out and placed her hand on the mark. "This looks like a mark of some kind of group, it could be a warning, or a brand." She put her hand down, turning to you. "We need to report this to the company once we're done."

Johr-Illa, Bellheart | 1895 | In the bustling City

It was bustling in the capital. The buildings here were tall, some even towering. The sidewalk was paved out evenly, the roads filled with buses and a few private cars. Most people cycled around on their bicycles. The air was a bit dense, due to the steam that could be seen rising from some of the factories, the some of the water vapor filling the streets with a humid atmposphere.

Johan walked about, wiping his nose with a small tissue. He adjusted his hair, walking over to a nearby bin and throwing the tissue away. He noticed the way people dressed here, way more fancy than Gromver. His left hand fiddled with a small paper ball, idly rolling it back and forth into various cylindrical shapes. His eyes tracked the street around, noticing the vendors, shops and kiosks all around. Some were selling clothes, suits, hats and ties. Another shop was full of books, an old woman could be spotted behind the counter, her eyes sat right on her small nose as she read a book silently. His hand was on his briefcase, filled with all the essentials he needed for his alchemy as well as clothes and a few books to read in passing.

He went along the street before eventually making it to a vendor, buying some garlic bread. The street vendor was a middle aged man, his son by him. The son seemed to be focused on something, scribbling down on a blank piece of paper, drawing what seemed to resemble a croissant. Johan broke the bread in half, tossing the other piece to you.

"Hm. Document says it's right around here." He said, voice slightly muffled from eating the bread. Crumbs painted his lips and cheeks from the crunch of eating the toasted food. He lifted his hand, using the collar of his left hand to wipe the crumbs off of his mouth. His eyes moved to the residential buildings, scanning each one for the right number. The houses were unique, some short and red, others tall and white, but they followed the same compact, tall, slim format. Eventually, he spotted it in the distance, house 251.

"C'mon, it's right here." He sprinted a bit, turning mid way. His feet bounced off of the ground, the tips of his shoes tapping against the sidewalk's pavement. "What're you waiting for?" He said before spinning around and heading to the house, his suit jacket blowing in the wind as he dashed over to the house.

Johan stood in front of the door. It was tall, made of an old wood. The building seemed to be pretty old compared to the rest of the houses here. It's paint was old, the stair floorboards creaked as he stepped on them. The sign seemed to be a bit yellowed, worn over time but the numbers were still visible, their font that same cursive the older structures used. He drifted his hand in front of him, knocking on the door a few times before setting his hand back down, waiting patiently for a reply.

A few moments passed by of silence before the door knob twisted. The long door opened, revealing an old man of short stature. His head was full of mixed grey and brown hairs, a large bald spot on the back of his head. He wore a long woolen jacket, it's brown texture resembled the bark of oak trees. The wrinkles weren't prominent but were visible still. His face was full of stubble, with a long beard on his chin, a thick mustache above his lips complimenting it. He looked up at Johan, speaking. "Ah. You must be the alchemist." He turned to you, finger stroking his beard. "And you're his partner aren't you?" He said with a smile. He waved his hand, gesturing for you two to come inside.

"Come in, come in." The man said, turning and going back into his home. The place was nice, the curtains were fancy, the furniture seemed to be vintage. Johan moved forward, adjusting his collar before taking out the document from his side. "Mr. Heinsen. We were sent her under request to help with a contamination problem. Could you show us?"

The man, Mr. Heinsen as Johan stated, walked to the kitchen, turning on the kettle. "I will, I will. But enjoy some tea first." Mr. Heinsen said, taking out a step ladder. He was just short of reaching handle of the cabinets above the counter. He put the stepping ladder in front of the lower cabinet, reaching up and grabbing two cups. He took the hot water from the kettle, pouring it into the cups. Taking a teabag of black tea, he placed one of each into the cups, adding a teaspoon of honey to each. He mixed, letting the tea get dark before throwing the teabags. His hands worked efficiently, as if he had done this every day of his life.

Mr. Heinsen then walked over to you two, setting the tea down on a tray. He sat down on an old chair, the wood slightly creaking from his weight. "There's been a contamination in the pond." His eyes drifted towards the window nearby, where a small pond could be seen, the water was dark. "2 weeks ago, overnight, a black kind of substance leaked into the pond. I had fish there, little koi, they'd suffocated from it."

He exhaled, continuing. "I've been trying to find the source but I can't. We stopped using oil in place for magic stones quite the while ago, so I'm doubting it's pollution but I can never be truly right." His tone was concerned, it was obvious he was a bit attached to the fish and the pond, maybe it was something sentimental. "My wife used to take care of the pond, but since her passing, it's just been me. All the Alchemists here were busy, but, Gromver was my hometown, I knew some people there. So I thought maybe some of the alchemists there could help." He said, turning back to you two.

His hands moved, taking out a small vial of some of the black liquid. It was viscous, coating the glass and sticking to it. "Here I've collected a sample." He took out a dead koi, preserved in salt, sliding both of them towards you two. "Could you please take a look at it?"

Johr-Illa, Gromver | 1895 | Company 8 Building, Garage

The air was full of the smell of metal, oil and grease. Cabinets lined the walls, filled with bolts, screws, wires and various other things. Multiple tools like pliers, wrenches and screwdrivers decorated floors and tables. A few cars and buses were lined up in the garage, each one in some kind of disrepair.

Many people had come over the week, coming in with cars and devices they needed repaired. Most of the mechanical stuff was taken up by Abella without a second thought, which she thoroughly regretted now.

Abella wheeled off from underneath a bus. Her face was slightly covered in a black grease, gloves dirty. Underneath her as she came out was a skateboard, fashioned to let get go under and out of the vehicles with ease. She grabbed a tool from the floor, pushing back up and under the bus she was working on.

Her hands moved masterfully, each part mapped out by memory as she worked on the repairs. She then came out, getting up. "Weird. This thing is out of fluid." She said as she got up, walking to the front of the bus. She popped open the hood, checking the engine in front. She took out a dipstick, checking the oil. She then took it out, it was nearly dry.

"Woah. No wonder. What happened to this hunk?" She tapped on the hood, idly drumming against the metal. "It's in for some much refilling." She abruptly closed it, turning around and walking off. "But that's not for now. I've got a lunch breaaaak."

Abella walked to the side, taking off her gloves and setting them on a table. She washed her hands by the sink before taking out her lunchbox. It was full of spicy meats and rice with a thick stew. She promptly then began to chow down on the food like an animal that had never eaten in it's entire life.

"That's the stuff.. Lunch is always the best." She said as she leaned back, savoring the taste of her food.

Johr-Illa, Gromver | 1895 | Company 8 Building, Lab

Chance worked tirelessly in the Lab. His hands drifted from one place to another, switching from task to task with proficiency. The table was full of different things, cups, vials, cylinders and the sorts. He mixed things together, seemingly trying to make something up. The liquid in a cylinder changed from clear, to a milky white before abruptly darkening into a murky brown.

Chance's hand hit the table in frustration, which had built up over many failures. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed as he stared down at the multiple failed concoctions. "Damn it. Why can't I find the right solution." He muttered, his tone irritated, angry. Angry at the concoction and his own incompetence in finding what he wanted. His hand flew over to his notebook, grabbing it and flipping it open.

His eyes drifted over many different alchemical equations with quick succession. He searched each line for a mistake, a wrong number, a miscalculated amount but he couldn't find any. His hand gripped down on the side of the table, the cloth of his glove wrinkling. Each line seemed to be just right, just perfect but it didn't work, not the way he wanted it to.

Theory was easy, but practice wasn't. Practice took multiple experiments, using different solutes and solvents, changing dependent and controlled variables. Each of them ended with failure. Eventually, after minutes of thoroughly looking throughout his notes he closed the book with slightly more force than necessary. He took a step back, dragging his hands against his face. He held his hands over his nose and mouth, head tilting back.

"Oh my days..." He groaned, his voice dragging out. He then set his hands down at his sides, deciding to take a break. Chance walked over to the small couch in the lab, sitting back and laying his head back. It was better he rest before he broke something out of anger or irritation.

Johr-Illa, Gromver | 1895 | Company 8 Building, North Dorms

It was early in the morning. The sunlight was a bright orange as it casted its rays through the windows of the dorms, signifying the wake of dawn. The same rays seemed to slip through the small cracks between the curtains in Gilbert's room. They landed straight on his eyes. He groaned moving to the side and trying to avoid the light but it persisted.

"Ugh, fine, fine." Gilbert groaned, stretching his arms beside him.

Eventually, Gilbert got up, rubbing his eyes. He did a small morning stretch, cracking his joints. He walked to his bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror, observing his rough awakened appearance. He always looked like a zombie when he woke up. He took off his pajamas and got into the shower, taking a cold shower to start up his day.

Getting out, Gilbert would change into his regular, work clothes. He adjusted his collar and unlocked the door, walking through the hall. He would turn and walk in the direction of the dorm living room. He was the first to wake up as always, even if he didn't want to.

His footsteps were somewhat silent as he stepped into the living room. The cat there, a large orange cat named Jermaine, was fast asleep on it's bed, it's shape similar to that of a fluffy loaf of bread on a counter. Gilbert walked over to the kitchen, turning on the kettle. He stood there, staring at the kettle as it boiled the water.

He took the kettle as it was done, pouring himself a mug of coffee. He took the mug, grabbing a piece of cake from the fridge. He sat down, taking the cake and coffee, eating it silently. He didn't want to wake anybody else up, or alert any of the other workers that he was awake so they didn't drag him into doing work he didn't want.

Once he was done, he sat up from the chair, putting the dishes in the sink and cleaning them. He then made a straight line towards the couch, leaning back and zoning out.

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