(Esimed2) The Lion's Test in Sheep's Clothing

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Esimed-OOC: The evil Witch is ready for crime!

Moon-Eye-OOC: Please do your best! This narrator is rooting for you!

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“My God, who designed this death trap?!” They must have been some seriously evil people whoever they were.

“Hmm… Maybe I should have sent a labeled map to the Witch girl to find this factory. Address or not, not even Goggle Map’s directional system could accurately calculate the time and distance from Point A to B. it’s nothing but a bunch of scribbles really—ACHOO!...Ah. She must be talking about me.”

It was a factory. Despite the modern age and modern technology, the building itself that was used for mass production purpose looked rustic. Don’t get this narrator wrong, it wasn’t rusted or broken down. Rather, it looked old, a classic tone so to speak.

It was made out of bricks that used to be fresh many eons ago. The designs were so archaic, it had a bit of a feel as if it had survive the British Industrial Revolution and the consequent fall outs. Of course it had the complimentary broken windows, the busted iron doors, and the re-modified back doors that doubled as a truck-only drop off garage for receiving / shipping supplies.

It also had those turn of the century chimney stacks that no longer vomit black fume, which was doing wonders for the environment.

To be honest, this factory was some sort of loom-based production line. You know, the place where clothing were made for the commercial world. It leaned heavily to the female fashion, particularly corsets.

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And sitting in what used to be the factory’s head office, was this lazy looking school girl with a sexy forehead. She could be found rolling around in a makeshift bean-bag bed/chair.

The girl used it, as if it were a bed for her to write her diary or even contemplating on her future love life.

“Being a boss is a pain.”

Said the leader of criminal organization, the Frowne Syndicate. As mentioned, she went by the alias of JUNIPER. All capitals, so please don’t shout. It wasn’t clear if she was using an alias to hide from her red-stained past, to avoid confrontations of enemies she had done wrong, or if she thought it was a fancy code name.

The girl in the long skirt Sailor Uniform carried that moniker as if a regular name.

Somehow, she looked bored.

“Five people. That’s the maximum size currently established in the Syndicate’s roster. This is an emberassment. I’m supposed to be playing the role of the Big Bad, yet I only have enough lackeys which I can count my fingers with. This is truly a sham.”

Five people. One was the Man in the Wolf Mask, a man in black Korean style Armor and an animal-turned-creature born from the Josean Dynasty. One was the Girl in the Cat Hood, who specializes in intelligence gathering and had this deep Liverpool accent, also working part time in an Adult…Art Store (a place where ‘body portrait’ artist get their special inks and watercolors, cough).

One was – CLASSIFIED INFORMATION. One was—CLASSIFIED INFORMATION. And One was—CLASSIFIED INFORMATION… Oh wait, sorry. Typo. The Fifth one is the new recruit: Yvonne Martin, Evil Class Witch.

“I like her. She’s cute. Have you not seen her profile picture on her Tinder Page?”

……………. Wrong site.

“Oh right. Twitcher.”

Close enough.

“… Or was it Ashley Madison?”

NO!

“Hmm. Whatever. Since she’s a new recruit, I should provide her with a job.”

No, you start out with an orientation. As any good new employee would know, once they’ve successfully being accepted into a job they like (hate) they must conduct a series of orientating shifts. This is where the new recruit follows an experience worker and work together through the regular days of the job.

That was the extent of it. So even if the Frown Syndicate was a criminal organization with at most five individuals, such introductory system was necessary. Otherwise, the union they are connected to will doc them marks. They’ve already had 2 out of five penalties when that lazy high school girl with sexy forehead forgo the orientation phase for the Josean Magician and the Part-time Art Girl.

Today, Yvonne Martin was going to receive an orientation.

“Let’s see how she survives an Alcatraz Lever Security System.”

THE F**K IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN!? THIS IS AN ORIENTATION DAY, NOT MURDER YOUR NEW EMPLOYEE DAY!

“No, no, no. That’s next Tuesday. And if my schedule is correct, it should be that Korean-speaker next.”

ARE YOU LISTENING TO THIS NARRATOR! YOU’RE GOING TO SCARE OFF YOUR ONE AND ONLY RECRUIT!

“Hmph. You look down on this cute little witch girl. I’ve seen her entire profile and read her resume. She’s got the right amount of experience to be evil! So I have every confidence she will pass this test with flying colors!”

This is too much for her!

“Her body can take it. I have faith in her stamina!”

OдO………………..

“Besides. If she can’t handle this little baby test – how do you expect her to survive collecting vital information from government targets, military corporations, or even fend off against powered heroes in tights. Surely, I can’t let this girl face such odds without some words of wisdom.”

Wh…what would those words wisdom be?

“Win☆.”

YOU RECKLESS B*TCH!

“Oh thank you.”

THAT WASN’T A COMPLIMENT!

So what happened next was probably the most horrifying event known to mankind.

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Strings. First strings shot out from different directions, like the threads of a spider. They were made of iron, thin enough to cut through bone and flesh. And flying down through these wandering wires were...... Oh..... my..... god....

Corsets.

Specialized garments made with course silk, thick strings, and formed with molded Whale Bone. They were well known to be designed to force the female body to adopt the perfect hourglass figure. It was also configured so that it supports the chest in a way to make them 'lifted', 'full' and adds that 'heaving bosom' of a woman in distress.

Although it was a popular fashion - many woman in their times all call it one thing. A medieval torture device.

The trips criss-crossing could be tied and pulled in a way to squeeze the body, All the organs inside the woman would be pushed up into their upper cavities. Their ribs will have no room to breath, let alone let the diaphragm run free. Running, is out of the option.

There were many cases, where it causes terrible injuries to the rib and spine. Hence why it was made a point in early Woman Suffrage to abolish the corsets.

"If may seem like a harmless fashion, little witchy, if re-purposed for the right use, the can surely crush you."

If they grab your arms, they will lock the joins and you cannot mobilize. If they grab your legs, they will tie them together and you will fall over. If they grab your body... well, your last minutes will make you look fabulous - at the cost of breathing. If it grabs your head... the image of crushed watermelon comes to mind.

"Women in the 1890s say 'Corsets Kill'... I hope you won't make it a reality in the 20XX."

In the head officer, a certain Lazy High School girl was watching all of this from hundreds of spy cameras, projected on her own computer tablet. She had a half-smile and half frown.

It looked liked she looked forward to see this new girl’s prowess… yet—

“Please don’t fail. I so want you to prove yourself.”

You’re the one who pressed the trigger!

“It can’t be helped! Even a lion mothers tosses their cubs down a cliff to make them stronger!”

It’s only a 10 feet drop! Not f**king Niagara Falls!

“…….. Just reach the bell at the end of the course and you win, My Cute Witch!”

Godspeed, Miss Yvonne Martin.

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