A Foiled Crime! Mighty Star Appears!

“So. To recap.” Anesthesia’s eyes shifted between Aisha and Makoto, before drifting off towards the ceiling. ”I gave you, my two lieutenants, the rather simple and straightforward task of breaking into Maximillian’s office. You were kept from this task because, as Aisha puts it, you were attacked by a large woman dressed in the American flag. Not only were you two unable to complete this job, but you - two trained, experienced wrestlers - were unable to defeat one woman, and eventually had to flee. You left a substantial mess in the process, which means that, not only are you coming back empty handed, but you will, inevitably, draw more attention to me and my operations. In short, I’ve come out behind because of this operation, not ahead. It would have been better if I told you to do absolutely nothing. Is that the overall gist of it?”

”Yeah.”

”Pretty much.”

Anesthesia was not a happy woman.

When she woke up this morning, she had a very concrete idea of how this day would go. She wanted Maximillian’s information on her desk, the very desk she sat at right now, so she could start working towards her plan of overthrowing the fop of a man and sinking her claws into the AFW’s power structure. Instead, she was ending the day with the two women standing before her, bruised and battered, telling her this ridiculous tale.

From the way, Aisha described it, they barely escaped. Makoto had to hit this Mighty Star with a chair, and it was only by sheer luck that the woman’s hair was tangled in it, preventing her from giving chase. She’d even nearly tripped Makoto up on the way up, resulting in the Black Belt Demon banging her head against the door frame as she ran - there was a rather large knot on her forehead to attest to that. They managed to elude security, and she just had to hope beyond hope that no one who recognized them caught a glimpse on their way out. Which brought up another point that she had to address.

”Did you mention my name?” Right away, she found herself disliking the reaction to that question, as Makoto and Aisha exchanged nervous glances. Groaning, Anesthesia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, doing her best to mitigate the growing headache. ”I specifically told you not to mention my name. Specifically. Almost verbatim, my words.”

”Look,” Aisha spoke up and stepped forward, planting her fist on the desk as a sign of bravado. ”It’s a problem, but we’ll handle it. She’s just one dumb bitch in a silly costume. It ain’t a big deal.”

”One dumb bitch who handled an Olympian and one of the world’s most experienced street fighters two-on-one.” She waved them off. ”Go home, get cleaned up, both of you. I need to think.”

And think she did. Alone, she crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled and eyes straight ahead. Mighty Star. Not a name she had heard before, but one that she would be looking into. A costumed individual meddling in her business. Concerning. Familiar.

But not uninteresting, she would give it that.

It had felt rather terrible to flee from the scene of a crime, very unbecoming of a heroine such as herself, but the thought of having to explain the situation when she had nothing but her testimony wasn't a favorable place to be. So when Mighty Star had finally wrestled her hair free, she had scrambled to vacate the area just as security showed up. Hidden away from sight, she would change out of her costume and make her way off in the night without incident. In the morning she would send an anonymous letter detailing what transpired to the head of frictions security directly in hopes of avoiding further complications. But for now… she had work to do.

Jennifer Murphy sat quietly in the small room she had converted into an office of sorts only letting the soft cream of her shovel chair break through the silence as she twisted slightly one way then back the other in thought. Before her was suspended a large corkboard which covered nearly the entire wall mostly devoid of anything. There was a few new additions however. The worn interior pamphlet for an old Aisha cd which depicted the woman looking dramatic in the rain was the biggest oddity. A few pins were jabbed around the outside of the foldout to not actually damage it… she still likes the cd even if the diva had turned devious as of late. A small red thread hung loose from one pin to another where a printout of Mokoto was. An promotion shot of a younger smiling girl posing with olympic medals. Someone so successful now turned to crime, why?

Nearby was a picture of the general manager of friction, Maximilian Kingsley dressed to the nines as he always was. It was taken straight from the AFW magazine and still had a small article about him attached, one she had read-through a few times. A puff piece mostly, but one could never be too careful what gets overlooked. She had tacked up a small handwritten list of what the two women might have been looking for in that office but it was only theories. Contract information, upcoming PPV location bids, roster information… it all seemed plausible but she had no evidence. If only she had managed to capture them. This also had a long red thread attached, leading back to one central piece of paper  where they all converged with a single word written on it.

"Anesthesia…"