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Deveraux Dufor casually stabbed backwards with his sword, a nice steel long-sword, to kill an eldritch abomination. He had heard it coming towards him for the past ten minutes at least, stalking closer and closer, sniffing him out with, with what he now saw as he turned towards it, an unnatural 37 nostrilled nose. Seriously, it was like an over-sized trunk or shaft of flesh, with 37 holes in it. But enough of that. Deveraux, or Storm, as more people knew him, continued to stride purposely through the shifting Alleyways. He'd spent a lot of time here in the past twenty-odd years, and he was quite used to it's rules by now. Though, that didn't diminish the danger. Even now, his compounded tin hearing let him know that there were a multitude of other creatures all around him. Now, he was sure he'd come far enough, any moment now... abruptly his surroundings changed, and he was standing somewhere outside the walls of Alleycity. Yes, he was where he wanted to be. Rusts he thought, looking up at the walls, This place has changed so much. He’d sworn he wouldn’t come back here. Sworn to never return to this place of Memories. Somewhere in those walls, was where he’d had himself stripped away. Swing had thought he was ready, but.. Harmony, Swing. He fell to his knees. Not Here, damnation it. He was shaking, by Preservation’s wings, he was shaking. This is why I swore to never come back here. But he’d had too. Once he’d heard of the state of TUBA. The memories passed, and he picked himself up. He sheathed his sword, and walked along the walls for a time, until he was approaching the gates. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, and pulled on his hood. As he made his way into Alleycity proper, he looked around at the buildings. Many of them seemed.. alien. He’d seen the beginnings pf skyscrapers in Elendel, sure. But the buildings here were sleeker, and reflective; like towers of glass. So much had changed. Despite the changes, the streets themselves were still familiar enough, even after all this time. Deveraux made his way to the TUBA headquarters, which, while still in the same location, was several stories taller. Offhandedly, he wondered if the old Terminals were still in use. He opened the door, walking up to the reception desk to find an aging man sitting leafing through a magazine. He thought he recognized the man, hadn’t he been involved with the creatin of the Terminals, actually? What was his name though, Gared maybe? Yes, his nametag confirmed. Gared looked up from his reading. “Can I help you?” He asked evenly, in a somewhat gravelly tone. “Yes,” Deveraux replied. “I need to speak with Deteca, immediately.” Gared looked surprised. “Oh, well.. er.. you’ll have to fill out some paperwork before you can--” he cut off. He seemed to finally be taking in the man standing in front of him. Deveraux lowered his hood. “St-Storm!?” Gared stammered. “I’d prefer if you called me Deveraux, but yes. It’s me.” He replied flatly. “I, uh—right. Of course. I’ll get a message to Deteca right away!” Gared pulled a small mobile from his pocket, and tapped the screen in a manner that made Deveraux dizzy. He’d of course heard of and seen mobiles before. They were like complex and advanced spanreeds. They had existed for a good number of years now, but had not been prevalent in Alleycity until the “towers” that powered them had been erected. Regardless, He would probably need to take advantage of them. His plans.. well, he’d get to that when he came to it. Shortly, an assistant came and lead him to an elevator, which shot downwards. They disembarked, and made their way through several winding hallways, to a smaller meeting room. Now he would just have to wait until Deteca arrived.