The View Through Iolite.

Dear Manager:

I'm not sure you understand the situation you find yourself in. Or perhaps you do. If you've heard of Facility X-349, I'm near certain you haven't heard the whole truth.
How many years has it been, since LCorp opened? If you recall, please, let me know posthaste. Leave your answer underneath a rock in the garden in the Security Department. My own sense of time has dulled.
In a few years, you will face the end of everything. This wing will necrose and fall away through no fault of your own. It simply must be shed. Perhaps in this case, we are not a wing, but downy feathers, making way for the egg we've so gently nurtured over the course of hundreds of years to hatch. But this comes at a cost to us, and one you will not see coming, even if you look for it.
Let me pull away your rose tint. You will see the garrish flags through a blaze of purple.
May we meet on stable grounds.

Yours Truly,
Iolite.

October 13th, 04:00. JCorp Backstreets - District 10.

Maxwell Piper glanced out the window of her impromptu new residence; a shitty hotel nearby a casino in the Backstreets of District 10. It wasn't a pretty place: unidentifiable stains on the carpet, walls with ripped wallpaper, spilled food and garbage were strewn about the floor and the smell was deeply rancid. The elevator, too, sounded like it was on its last legs when she went up to her room and even jolted to a tense halt once or twice and last she checked, Max had been plenty under the carrying capacity. But what had drawn Max to this specific hotel wasn't its quality, rather, it was the lack thereof that had brought her to the conclusion that it would be the perfect place to sort out her thoughts, at least until she decided to return home. Anyone with sense back home, in the Nest of MCorp, would look at someone like her strangely. At least in District 10, she could blend in with the disheveled, buy some new clothes and effects from a pawn shop, and then bolt back home once she can blend in at least a little with society at large again without looking like... Well, an abnormality, for lack of a better word.

"Alright, Max. You've been through... God knows how much of this... You've screwed up so much that TCorp's technology hardly works on you... And you got Warped up to the surface, who knows how many years after you started." To her reflection in the window. "Now... You probably can't get back to the underground branch! Because it's miles under the surface with no way out. But there are other branches... And you have an idea what happens to those later, right? It'd be kind of cruel to not try and help at least one branch..."

She glances at a pamphlet she always kept on her, ever since she joined: An advertisement of LCorp, pointing out all its major locations...

"Well, there's one back home, isn't there." A soft sigh... This would be interesting. District 13, huh... "I bet I could grab a Moonlight Stone and be way better off than I was before, while I'm at it."

Over her time at LCorp, in Extractions, primarily, she'd become a little wary of the idea of Singularities, that they're all horrible, but... In the City, you use what you can. And MDM Enterprise produced Moonlight Stones—Used by Fixers to negate psychological attacks. It was a helpful little thing, especially for the layman who was unable to access E.G.O. She imagined it would add a little extra boost to her mental state, though it wasn't like she needed it much. She had Justita, after all. Which she had, if accidentally, stolen.

"I'll. I'll confront the theft thing later." Binah would forgive her, right? Right. She could totally just... Extract another one. Probably. "There's more pressing matters at hand. Like getting a suitcase, some clothes, and then getting back to my Nest. And then... LCorp. Again."