Topic: Gold Saucer Addictions Category: Triple Triad
Client: Unknown Status: Open
Case 15-021: Myranda Al’cyoene and the Secret Deck
Background: Subject is a member of Chaos Theory, a free company based in Gridania, yet allied with the Immortal Flames. Trained in disciplines of both War and Magic. Dangerous when provoked. She is thought to have killed a player to obtain what she believes is a card from a secret Triple Triad deck, known only to the top seven players, called the Vanadil deck. She is currently searching for the other cards. There is no such deck; subject is believed to be delusionary.
Subject’s whereabouts: Unknown
Objective: Find and subdue the subject; expose her to humiliation and public shaming using tactic 29B4A, with the idea of curing her addiction; and present her before Big Kupo for trial.
Myranda was scared, more scared than all the times she’d been killed in battle, more scared than the time Ifrit had almost roasted her alive, even more scared than the time she had eaten the last piece of Valentione’s Day cake at HQ without telling Nyena. And now here she was, tied hands and feet, in Efren Cecht’s closet.
She’d asked Efren to hide her from her pursuers, when her staunch friend (in battle) and staunch foe (in TT) had asked her what was going on. Myranda was exhausted enough to tell her fellow Cardaholic the truth. The change that came over her friend was nothing short of heart-stopping, and she was knocked unconscious, waking up later in darkness.
The room was quiet. The only breathing she could hear was her own. Looking at the bright side, she relaxed her muscles and began to meditate. This was the first peace and calm she’d enjoyed before teleporting out of the Gold Saucer earlier last night. She was down to her last 2 MGP. She should have won her last game, but one of bunny girls rubbed against her as she reached for her cards, and she laid down the wrong one. She’d borrowed as much money as she could from her FC friends, and Efren, well, he now owned Myranda’s room and everything in it, as well as her chocobo.
She’d been on her way to the bar when someone grabbed her sleeve, and said: “Help me.” She looked up, and up again, to see the tallest female Elezen she’d ever encountered. She was incredibly beautiful, in the high-cheekboned and flawless featured way that Elezen women have. Suddenly she slumped downwards, as Myranda’s hand caught her halfway to the floor.
Her eyes locked with Myranda’s. They were sad and weary eyes. “You have known bad luck. I am sorry…to bring you…more. Take this. Do not ever use it. Find a way to destroy it, and the world will have…good luck.” She looked over Myranda’s shoulder, and screamed. She felt her put something which tingled into her pants pocket. She saw an assassin’s knife in the Elezen’s hands, and Myranda grabbed the hilt. Myranda was not quick enough to stop the Elezen from mortally stabbing herself. She watched in horror as the Elezen slid to the floor, her wound oozing blood into an ever-growing pool. and with a shock saw the light go out of her eyes.
Several patrons from the bar surrounded her, casting resurrect as fast as they could equip their wands. But the spells could not touch her. It wasn’t as if they had hit a reflect spell – they just had no effect. What’s more, the Elezen did not fade out, returning to wherever her home aetheryte was. She was dead, truly dead – something unheard of. Something unspeakable. Myranda saw the bloody knife in her own hand. And people were staring at her. Well, she thought, this doesn’t look good.
Several things happened at once. She dropped the knife and began running to the nearest corridor; at the same time, realizing they had just witnessed true death, the witnesses ran as well, helter skelter, some of them screaming that the Saucer was cursed, at which point all hell broke loose as patrons everywhere teleported out or ran to the airship dock. Some patrons tried to jump out windows, only to find that, mysteriously, there suddenly were no windows. Which is just as well, considering the location of the Gold Saucer was rumored to change every night.
It was just as her body was slipping into the aether, to return home (her only option, now being flat broke), when she saw an odd trio running in her direction: a moogle, a cactrot, and a…a big drop of green slime? As she saw them leap to catch her, she felt the rush of the void whisking her away…to safety, she hoped.
The only partial witness to these events, and the only one of two people who would remember what he saw (the other being Myranda) was Mogwai Meh, of the Moogle Mafia. He whistled at the inept trio of new recruits, and flew above the still terrified crowd towards Headquarters. The Big K was not going to be happy.
Mogwai Meh didn’t talk about himself much, but that didn’t mean he had nothing interesting to talk about. If he did, it meant either one of two things: you were going to die soon afterwards, or you were going to be given the choice of cooperating with the Big K, or death. No resurrection. It was a secret the Big K possessed, and had entrusted him with.
Many people, including his bondmate, didn’t know that Mogwai still spoke to his mother. She was safe to talk to – she always listened. She would never, ever give away his secrets. Of course, she was deaf.
Big K gave him the new ‘recruits’ to train, knowing that Mogwai hated every moment of it. His rate of success was abysmal, if success was measured in the numbers who survived the training. But the very few who did – the one in fifty – it meant they would survive anything. Mostly without a scratch. Mostly.
He reached the employee bathroom, used the key, and walked to the far wall. He pushed the towel to the right, and moved the bar to the left, where it clicked. The wall slid open, revealing a stairway leading downwards. As soon as Mogwai Meh stepped on the stairs, the wall slid back into place. Had he attempted to fly downwards, he would have been skewered by falling spears. The goblin crafters who had designed the Gold Saucer had created safeguards as deadly and creative as any treasure vault. If you didn’t know their sequence, you died. It was the last, and sometimes final, test for a recruit to the Moogle Mafia.
The air was thick with spellcraft, some which protected and camouflaged the huge gambling palace, and some which would use the largest aetheryte ever found, whose main mass was hidden beneath the Saucer like ice below an iceberg, to power the jump to its next destination. The Garleans knew of its existence, and tried – in vain, Mogwai thought – to find it.
Reaching the bottom at last, after flying, walking, crawling, leaping and even singing his way down, he came to Tootso Cute’s domain. The room in front of Big K’s lounge was filled with file cabinets. Tootso might have been cute once, but she was possibly the oldest moogle still alive, and it showed. But she kept thorough and accurate records, could not be bribed, and had a memory that the Scions would just love to ask questions of. She glanced at Mogwai, and said, “You’re lookin’ a little worried there, Moggie baby. Sure you don’t wanna wait til tomorrow?” He blew her a kiss, and knocked on a small door. He had been told that knocking, for him, was no longer necessary. He still knocked though. Better to be safe than sorry. This news was going to give Big K a very bad headache.
And with a headache, she could be a real bitch.
To be continued