Open Barracks/Imperial Condos A Secret Worth Dying For?

[Jill (The Beast)]

Beast reached out for the book. If what Peter was saying was true, it was so tempting. So tantalizing. But they stopped. "No, no. I can't kill somebeast, even if they are bad. Can't I just... scare them? You know, 'You'd better clean up your act, or I'll beat you black and blue'. Something like that."

Beast let out a small growl, clearly trying to convince themself that their idea would be for the best. "I mean, I really haven't even considered killing someone. I could beat them up so badly that they would need a trip to the hospital. That would change any beast's mind."

"Mr. Morrey is right, Beast. The only way to really kill a snake is to chop off its head, and then the body will die."

Beast shook their head. Not now, Mask.

"He IS right. Do you want to make a difference?" Of course I do. "Then you've got to take more drastic measures."

Jill sat up, reaching into her shirt and pulling out a key attached to a necklace. No, no, I don't want to hear that from you. You were the one who told me that we need to seek justice. Killing beasts isn't justice! She was breathing heavily now.

"If you don't kill them, they'll just keep on doing their evil deeds."

"SHUT UP!" Jill yelled. She quickly slotted the key into the back of Mask, unlatching it from her head and revealing her face to Peter and Gian. She was a scrawny, tan colored vixen with soft blue eyes. Shakily, she wrapped Mask up in a blanket, trying to muffle out his voice.

"You know that won't work." Mask said coldly. "And worst of all, you've let them see your face."

Jill blanched. Mask was right, but it was too late, now. She looked sheepishly over at Peter. "I'm... I'm not crazy... I swear." Was all she could bring herself to mutter.

 

[Peter Morrey]

Well, that confirmed it; the vixen was crazy. Peter often wondered what was in the Bully Harbor water that so many vixens, in particular, turned out murderously insane. The Rainblade family alone could provide material for an entire psychiatry textbook. The vixen seemed to be at war with an entity in her head - the same condition that they said had plagued Armina Rogue before she turned into a serial killer. Peter privately hoped that the past was prologue in this case.

He set the book down on the bed, resting it next to the mask. "You want to be a good beast," he noted softly. "You want to have a code, a line in the sand you don't cross, to keep your thamonity. You're trying to make a bargain with a devil, girl. The beasts you're fighting? They won't respect your lines. They'll find them and use them against you. They don't fear heroes in this city, girl; they bury them. If you want to actually make change, to force the beasts who grind others into the muck to make a change, then you need to become what they fear. You need to set an example, to make them so afraid of setting a paw out of line that they never do. You need to rule them the way they rule the beasts of this city: with force, and the fear of it."