Quoted By:
>Putain, these people don't fuck around.
>I thought this whole tournament thing would get me the in that I needed to fuck them over, but it looks like it's going to take some more elbow grease to make it work.
She takes a big swig of her beer and slams the glass back down on the bar.
>FUCK.
>Okay, so I need more intel. Surveillance isn't cutting it.
>And I need a place to train. Street brawls here don't mean shit, and I can't expect to win in those matches if I'm not on top of my game.
>Think, Ciel. Think.
She chugs the rest of her glass, slides the empty container over the counter to the bartender and signals for another.
>If I'm gonna get help, I need to find the deviants among the misfits.
She stares pensively into the frothy head of the freshly tapped brew put in front of her.
>Okay, so what have I learned so far?
>Miss Durango has a lot of potential, but she's neck-deep in her own issues. Maybe something to consider when the fires die down, so to speak.
>The Bubblegum gals seemed to be interested in a bit of chaos. Maybe too much, maybe not enough.
>Miss Noire seems to be good at what she does. Maybe a bit rusty in the ring, but a personal PI could be a good friend to have in a place like this. Probably too much of a goody-gumshoes to work with me, but maybe not.
>Holly fucking Hope-Again, now there's a name. Fierce fighter, too. She's an outcast if I've ever seen one, but maybe too much of a lone wolf. Would still make a hell of a sparing partner to say the least.
She snaps out of her focus, downs the beer in one go and tosses a crumpled ball of money next to the glass.
>Hate to say it, but it's time to go make some friends.