The streets around the building the former Citizens’ Council used as a meeting place had become eerily quiet. More than the Incubator abandoning Shiori, only the crackling of flames and crumbling of stone could be heard. No immediate rioting, no yelling, no shouting, nothing. Firestarter could almost hear herself blink with this quiet. It was wrong. All wrong. A few feet away from the building showed the first breadcrumb; a trail of blood and a body, one indistinguishable amongst the horde that had raided the Council. Another lied not far away. Then another, and another. Some faceless, nameless rioters, but a couple Council members that Shiori had managed to possess. They had all died in the same way; a tiny hole, no more than a few millimeters in diameter through their chests. And in the middle of it all, a tall, blonde woman, hands stuffed in a long, grey trench coat. At her feet, an American quarter in perfect condition— Heads.

Shiori: Wasted no time sending in the troops, huh? (Shiori tilts her head, glaring at the woman through narrow eyes, before calling out) Those guys giving you a hard time, babe?

Diana: (she turns to face Firestarter, a completely blank, neutral expression on her face) They bored me. This your doing, <babe>?

Shiori: Maybe.

Diana: Not the worst way to go about it. “Hiring” a bunch of goons to burn a place down. I’ve seen worse. The cover-up’s gonna be a bitch and a half, though. …Guessing that’s not your problem, though, is it?

Shiori: Figured you’re the cover-up. And something else that starts with “co” and ends in “p”.

Diana: <Fuck you, I’m not a fucking cop. Go fuck yourself.> …Last time someone called me a cop, funny enough, was on another one of these. Back in Buffalo, New York. 1983. No one really bought the “propane tank blows up an entire city block” thing. Got the job done though, I guess, so those guys couldn’t complain too much. And no one besides me remembers it. Well… Incubator might. Might’ve just been “Tuesday” to it. Who knows?

Shiori: I’m afraid the fluff-tailed fucker’s kinda busy at the moment. Couldn’t even be assed to tell me he’s invited some more guests to his fucking party… Or are you crashing?

Diana: (the woman takes a step to the side. Behind her, the body of an Incubator lies with several pinpoint holes through its body, and a few slashes, as if from a pocket knife) Crashing. Definitely crashing. Or maybe “passing through” is another way of putting it. This party’s lively, but there’s not a lot to do. 

Shiori: I’ve had Worldeater nitpick my parties enough to figure out that I don’t give a rat’s ass what people think about them.

Diana: I dunno, a game or something might liven it up. How ‘bout ‘Pin the tail on the donkey’? I even brought the donkey. (she motions to the dead Incubator behind her) Also… “Worldeater”? God damn, it used to be so much better at coming up with callsigns… then again, Balancers never did live that long to begin with, did they?

Shiori: Don’t worry, not planning on… So, you a kind of disaster tourist or something? Would be trouble if you ran into Punisher. Seem like the kinda gal who’d have a target on her ass during a Balancing, what with the whole “I’ve been a Puella Magi since the nineteen-fucking-eighties” thing.

Diana: Heh… not a bad ring to it. <Diana Caelum, Disaster Tourist>. Also… “Punisher”? And you called me the fucking cop. So what’s yours then, Bubblegum? …Don’t tell me it’s actually “Bubblegum” or I’ll leave this “party”.

Shiori: I’m gonna go with “none of your fucking business”, babe. It’s not because I don’t kill you on the spot that I wanna become best buds. Dealt with one milf too many already today.

Diana: (she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. After a moment, she pulls out a dim, red Soul Gem, free from impurity, yet clearly antiquated, with almost a ‘dusty’ cloudiness to it.) …You can tell me, or you won’t. Choice is yours… “babe”. (pocketing her Soul Gem, she pulls out the same hand in a fluid motion, tossing another American quarter Shiori’s way)

Shiori: (she snatches the coin out of the air, flipping it before catching it again in her hand — Tails) Call me whatever you want. Bitch who had the name I wanna be called’s dead in the fucking dirt.

Diana: (Her eyes widen just enough to show the hint of interest, and her hand instinctively twitches, but it, too, relaxes) …Different question, then. Unless you wanna continue this fucked up game of therapy. Where’s the rest of your squad? 

Shiori: … fuck if I know. What’s it to you?

Diana: Curiosity. Boredom. History. <I don’t fucking know>. If secrecy’s your game, no wonder why your parties suck. …Truth be told, I’ve never seen a Balancing take this long, and it’s not even over yet. So I’m wondering if the Incubator’s lost its touch. …Or, if it’s afraid of something here. And that something is what’s keeping me here. That enough for you, Bubblegum?

Shiori: What, you’re like a fucking critic? Four out of ten Balancing, would not recommend? Rude staff, too much fire?

Diana: Dull as shit party, not enough fire, but yeah rude staff’s one of them. You’re sure as fuck not helping my boredom problem. (Diana is oddly still for a moment, as if she were supposed to be doing something, but then closes her eyes and turns away, not observing the effects of her attack.) <…Consider that a warning shot, and an invitation to a real party, Bubblegum. If you even live that long.>

Shiori: Ngh…! (she clutches her shoulder as pain and anger well up inside of her — the former quickly subsiding as the bullet hole closes, but the latter persists as she hisses through her teeth) I bore you…? You bore me! All of you bore me!

Diana: Take it up with your boss, then. (she reaches down, picking up and tossing the dead Incubator at Shiori’s feet.) And feel free to tell it my name. Dunno if Incubators can get heart attacks, but it’d be pretty funny if it could. Anyway… have fun burning this place to the ground. <I’ll be waiting amongst the ashes, or at your grave for whoever does you in.> (with a dismissive wave over her shoulder, Diana calmly turns to walk away)

Once the woman has disappeared, Shiori erupts into a litany of curses, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice emerging from around the corner.

Kyubey: Ah, so that is where that one was! (the creature skitters on over to the corpse at Shiori’s feet before taking a bite of it, the flesh melting into its mouth like cotton candy)

Shiori: … You lying weasel…

Kyubey: Lying? You should know I have no reason to lie, nor do I see any value in doing so. Honestly, I don’t understand why you humans do it so often. It causes nothing but—

Shiori: You granted my fucking wish! You said — you promised you’d grant my wish, and yet every rat-faced smug rotten cunt whose head I wanna tear off and shove it up their ass is fucking immune to every single word I say. What fucking part of “I wish to do whatever the fuck I want” did you not understand, you feline fuck?

Kyubey: (looking up from its gruesome meal, it gazes into Shiori’s eyes) … I don’t see why any of that would be preventing you from doing whatever you want. You didn’t say anything about others doing whatever you want, did you?

Shiori: We had a fucking deal.

Kyubey: … As far as I remember, you wanted to kill Cecilia Ambrosi. There is nothing stopping you from doing that, still. For someone who claims to only do whatever she wants, you sure are spending a lot of your time picking fights with random strangers! Fights that will only make you miserable, if you ask me. Isn’t all this about what you want?

Shiori: (she scoffs) … What I want is to wipe these smug smiles off of their faces. 

Kyubey: Then it will be done, Firestarter. In the end, the wishes we grant always come true!