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F.I.X.F.I.C. recruits a Vivian
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It's been a long few years, for Vivian. She's still in university, more or less, but it's been one heck of a time staying atop her studies because crises just keep coming up. First she discovered she was trans, and then she started getting into activism, and the next thing you know she has people crashing on her apartment couch she barely knows. She's helped out maybe two dozen different trans folk at this point, with problems ranging from minor to... not so minor... and her studies are slipping but she doesn't regret it at all. 

It's summer, now, and for once she doesn't have class. Instead she's volunteering at a drop-in center. Today's the weekend, though, and she finds herself unexpectedly at a loose end. 

Sitting in bed, she looks out over the city from her awkwardly-shaped apartment's window, and absently ponders the sunset. 

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The sunset is really pretty. There's even a certain extra shiny glint in the air that makes it all the more fantastically. 

The little shining motes of light resolve, a trail of emerald sparking fairy dust floating through the sky behind a little pixie. She floats down, wings fluttering slowly behind her, a wax-sealed letter comically large hanging down beneath her hands. 

She waves, and waits patiently just outside her window. 

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Vivian blinks, then rubs her eyes and looks again. 

The pixie remains solid and real. 

She goes and opens the window. 

"Er, ah, hi?" 

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She summersaults in the air, voice twinkling and bright. She wiggles in place, and floats in a little closer, knocking her hand against the letter, with an oddly wooden sound coming from it. Shes makes a soft questioning noise, and perks up curiously at her. 

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Cautiously, Vivian accepts the letter, since the pixie's voice is too bright for her to understand. 

Tearing open the wax seal, she pulls out the letter within. 

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The pixie almost bounces up into the air after releasing it to her grip, before steadying herself and slipping up, up and away into the sky.  

Dear Miss Vivian Violetta, 

I hope this letter finds you well. We at the F.I.X.F.I.C. Agency have a job opportunity for you that we believe that you may be interested in. Contrary to what you might have expected, the multiverse is both quite real and quite accessible, with the right technology or 'magic'. Naturally, this both means that there are all the more problems to solve, and all the more options for how to solve them.

The F.I.X.F.I.C. Agency are but one amongst many groups that has access to multiversal travel and the fruits thereof. Our mission is to ensure the thriving of sapient life, with an especial focus on inserting our empowered agents into worlds undergoing great peril to 'fix' the arc of their world into something brighter and better. You in particular have been identified as likely to be especially compatible with both our empowerment methodologies and our mission. 

The job is far from an easy one, but we have millennia of experience shepherding and supporting would-be heroes, and a broad selection of benefits available for those willing to undertake the task. 

If you wish to speak with us in more detail about joining us, please tear the enclosed talisman, which will transport you to one of our bases, where you will be fully briefed and offered a selection of abilities and missions to undertake. Unfortunately, due to security considerations, a further explanation of those details cannot be included here, but rest assured that even if you decline, the worst that could happen would simply that you return to your life as it was before. 

If you wish to decline, simply discard or destroy the letter, and we shall trouble you no more. 

Agent Braveheart
F.I.X.F.I.C. Office f182b0

All preceding content is hereby certified to be true and accurate to the best of the knowledge of the F.I.X.F.I.C. organization, to be designed for honest and open communication, and to contain no geas, pact, glamour, enchantment or similar working, nor any supertechnological or esoteric enhancements to alter effective persuasiveness or the circumstances of reception, beyond your identification as an adequate potential and a discernment of minimum availability to read the contents of the letter. If you have any complaints about the manner or contents of this communication, please either discard this letter or report your concerns to Sapient Resources at your earliest convenience. 

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What? 

Okay, she saw the fairy, fairies like that do not exist — 

Honestly, she could use something to do. 

She takes a moment to flick a comb through her hair and pull it back, puts on a clean v-neck, and tears the talisman. 

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There's a brief sensation of being nowhere in particular, somewhere higher and lower and elsewhere, before the world resolves back into focus. 

The stained wood walls of the room are bathed in a gentle sunlight streaming in from above, unbroken save for a simple steel stand for shimmering silver cutlass, reflecting the sunlight somehow with the pale patina of moonlight. The room holds little more then two recliners on both sides of a simple wooden desk, marred only with a matched pair of displays and keyboards, and a copper name plate proclaiming her to be "Tiera, F.I.X.F.I.C. Agent Emeritus and Agent Handler". 

She wears an easygoing smile and flowing brown dress like she was born in both. 

"You must be Vivian. A pleasure to meet you." 

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"Ah, yes, hello." Vivian looks around, suppressing her shock that that actually worked

"Good afternoon, ah, Tiera?" It comes out as a question rather than a statement. 

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She chuckles gently. 

"Hello and Good afternoon to you too. Rigel really is beautiful, isn't it?" 

A smile spills along her face, a little wistful sigh running through her chest and shoulders. 

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"I, ah — yes, it is." She looks up at the skylight that the sun — no, Rigel's — rays come spilling through. 

After a moment's thought, she settles herself into the recliner across from Tiera. "So," she says. "Please, explain — this is all rather a shock but I want to know more."

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"As you've seen, magic exists, as do quite a number of technologies that are far beyond your world, at least as it is now." 

She pauses for a moment, and just smiles up wistfully past her. 

"There's a whole big multiverse out there, and that means that there's a lot of people, people as real as you or I, who are having a rather hard time with things. F.I.X.F.I.C. is a multiversal organization that tries to help with that. I won't go over the whole political spiel, but suffice to say, we try to triage worlds of oppression and suffering as best we can. Part of that work goes through agents - people who we can empower to go out and help people. There's a number of complicated factors that go into it, but essentially, in many worlds there's only so much influence the broader organization can exert on some of the worlds in crisis, because that part of the multiverse has a certain... 'cosmic balance' to it that we have to abide by, at least in operations at scale. We can give you incredible tools, incredible skills, even give you access to an ally or two, but only in proportion to the difficulty of the task. Those who sign on as agents are given a new body, those powers you choose, a mission to help people through a crisis as best you can, and payment after the mission, for services rendered. Our systems detected you as someone who is especially compatible with the esoteric techniques involved, as someone of an exceptional character." 

She hums lightly. 

"Does that make sense to you? I know it never quite sinks in the first time you hear it, but..." 

She slips her fingers back through her hair with a bright smile. 

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"I guess that makes sense. Me, though, an exceptional character?" 

Vivian pauses for a long minute then rubs the back of her head. "... I mean, I try to help people who need it when I can... But anyone would do that, you know?" 

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She smiles lightly. 

"I think... that there's a lot of good in a lot of people, even if it's hard for them to let it shine through, sometimes. And sometimes, what that means, to be not just a good person, but an exceptional one, is that when you ask yourself "Can I help?", you find that your answer is "Yes" more often then those around you. Even if they're asking the same questions, even if they have the same skills, that can... shine through, sometimes." 

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"Oh." 

Vivian takes a moment to digest that, and then exhales. "Yeah," she says. "I guess you're right about that. I still keep comparing myself to, you know, the kinds of people who spend a big chunk of their income on preventing malaria, and things like that... But I guess there will always be outliers." 

She exhales and smiles. "Alright, I guess that makes sense for why I was recruited. You can probably give me... skills and things. Harder and a lot more ethically fraught to change the personality underneath."

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She nods lightly. 

"There's a few options for changing some underlying metaphysical characteristics as well, but those tend to be slow, imprecise and indirect to compensate for their reliability." 

She taps at her keyboard for a moment. 

"Would you like to see our standard options? I find that a lot of agents-to-be find it helpful to have a reference point on hand early on." 

 

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Vivian nods. "Please." She turns her attention to the screen before her. 

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"Here you go. Please tell me if you have any questions you'd like me to answer."

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She focuses on the screen for a while. 

"Free perfect transition... That's worth a lot to me, obviously. And the job benefits are tremendous. Of course, the stakes are ridiculous as well..."

She takes a long breath. 

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"This isn't a rush, or a fight." 

She reaches her hand out to her. 

"You can take more than one breath. It's okay." 

Her smile turns a little wry. 

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Vivian cracks up, and takes Tiera's hand. "Thank you." She lets out an exhale she didn't know she was holding, and looks back to the screen. 

"... I know I can handle crises," she says, not quite looking at Tiera. "I've dealt with a lot of them before on other people's behalves. Legal battles, finding places for people to stay on short notice, even people threatening suicide. But when I fear for myself, I tend to retreat. I think it's always easier on someone else's behalf." 

She squeezes Tiera's hand. "But you — FixFic, I mean — can give me training, yeah? I think it'd be worth it, to — be able to help in a real way."

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She nods solemnly. 

"We can." 

She lets out a sweeping little light breath of her own. 

"And yes. It's always meant the world to me, when I can help someone, and see them just... smile at the joy of it all. It's been a privilege to be able to make such a difference, really, and I know many of my colleagues would say much the same." 

She squeezes her hand gently back, lingering with the solidity for a moment.

"For me, being brave is often about... keeping it grounded in what's important. And when there's so much going on in front of you, and so much work left to do in this world..."

She leaves the rest wordless, her eyes flicking closed, lost perhaps in memory, for a while.  

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Vivian simply nods, and thinks about all the people suffering, even just in her own world. 

There is so much work to do. So much to heal. So much to mend. It's never as easy as simply kicking the bad guys' asses. 

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Her fingers rest warmly against her hands, soft yet firm.

 

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The silence stretches, and eventually Vivian pulls herself from her reverie.

"... Alright. I feel a little more centered. I think I do want to do this. Even though it's scary."

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