Cirocco Jones sits in her laboratory, casually flipping through one of her many textbooks. Today, she is choosing to learn about chemistry. She is stretched out across her throne in as luxurious a pose as she can possibly strike; legs hanging over one arm of the chair, her head lolling about with the book in front of it over the other. She runs an alabaster hand through a contrastingly darkened mess of short, militaristic hair. As she does, it shimmers with the same unknowable darkness as the city at night. A spattered lab coat hugs her body.
The battle she has just lost still rings angrily in her mind. Five upstarts from Greenhorn Town. Four young girls and what Cirocco assumed was their hired muscle. They may have been rookies, but there was something special about them. Even Nox, her prized Trubbish, had been dispatched effortlessly. Cirocco was confident in her strength. Those kids were tremendous.
She twitches her mousy nose to move her glasses back into place. The good thing about Deepdown City is that she rarely gets interrupted from her reading.
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