(Preshow) Staging Area

[Gildarts]

Christa couldn't stop herself from shaking while your gates she strode through counted down to her fated demise, but all she could hear were the silent and gentle chimes of the insufferable ringtone that came with these phones. Her eyes bounced over the heads of people scattered around her, and the twin that had escorted her into the room was gone. Within two seconds the Prime had flipped the phone back and had pressed it to her ear with the same bloodied knuckle she'd used on the table. Her expression was riddled with well-masked anguish and dread.

The phone stopped ringing. There was a void full of silence and question pressed against her ear. She could hear a sharp breath before the man spoke, and in his voice, she heard a triumphant smile. He had won. Whatever all this was.

"Hello, Christa." His voice rang louder than the last click of her gun.

"Hello." She tried to keep at bay her emotion, and wade on the edge of neutrality. "Where's my sister?"

"Oh we will get to that..." He said softly.

"No, is she alright? Let me hear her voice." Christa protested, the dripping of of fear could now be heard, her eyes swept the room behind her, for maybe Katia's perpetrator was in it.

"And just why would I do that? You're already doing everything I wish. You know I have your sister, and you will do as I say, because now, you can't leave. Even if you wanted to, there are volunteers stationed at every door and portal, and I would hate to see what Mr. Karl Jak would do to a prime that went back on his or her word." The voice smirked as he huffed two short scoffs of laughter, she was right where he wanted her to be. Hearing her sister alive was a privilege, not incentive. "You're in the Danteverse, sweetheart, and you're not going anywhere. Now, you'll do as I say or I'll put a knife through her throat."

Christa gulped while her mind froze. It had caught her attention, piqued her interest, and drove a spear through her heart. Her little sister's smile beamed up at her from a distant memory... But then there was that voice, and the threat looming over her head. Pulling her back in.

"Now, I want you to listen very closely for what I'm about to tell you about those envelopes. For your sister's life depends on it." Christa inched closer into the secluded corner of the main room, but the roar of the bustling people was almost too much for her, and nearly overwhelmed the man on the other side of the phone. He did not seem dismayed, however, and continued speaking, "In the largest white envelope, you will find a picture. On that picture, you will see what you are searching for. Open it."

Christa's hands fumbled to open the letter, however when she did this, tragedy struck. With one hand holding the phone, which she was straining to hear from already, and her other, playing with the glued folds of the damn envelope that just didn't want to open for her when she used one hand. A plant hit her in the face while she tried to raise her knee for extra help, though her balance was depended on a single teetering ankle. All it would've taken was that one touch and her dominos would fall down, someone might even shout "JENGA!" from across the room.

You can guess what happened next, as a suave looking reporter with too much cologne on, saw a prime standing in the corner, isolated from the rest of the group, and didn't see that behind her back she was occupied by a very important personal call. Needless to say, all it took was the suited man's hand tapping her shoulder and asking, "Excuse me miss, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

They taped her catastrophe and she tumbled to the ground. It was a blur, and Christa's mind had to replay what had happened. Meanwhile something was prodding her rips, her sniper went skittering half across the room, but the envelope had remained where it was, clutched desperately in her hands.

The prime stood up with her eyes ablaze. Who dared interrupt what could cost Christa her sister's life. Her eyes fell on the catalyst. Ron fucking Burgundy. Her mind reminded her that the man was still on the other line, and she forgot her anger rushed to find the phone, only to find it's screen broken and its two halves split, crushed by her fall. She couldn't say a word, and she could have cursed every name in the book. She settled with a raging, "FUCK," and stared at the broken bits in her palm.

Ron spoke after his face had turned red for laughing, "Hah, oh dear that was quite a tumble!" He read her anger, the phone had been important to the prime, he also saw the readying of her gun, and how in her mind she was already aiming it at his face, "Yikes, sorry to have disturbed you. Do you have a minute-"

But they were way past apologies. Christa was either ready to swing, or pull out her pistol and kill the poor man, but luckily, from across the room, carrying the sniper that had skittered precisely to his feet, Abner had since followed the familiar-looking weapon back, and strolled right into the heat of the fire.

And right into the person he had been looking for.