"Lights."

Throughout the panels on the ceiling and walls, brightness began to slowly seep into the room. Now that she was awake, the black ops agent could more clearly make out the source of the commotion: A rat. The persona had no idea why there were rats in the living quarters; after all, weren’t they in a mind-based simulation? Why were rats infesting Central Self’s mind?

Taking out the clip and replacing the bullets, Stealth returned the weapon to its container. Deciding to take a shower to rid the cold sweat from her body, the young woman peeled off the black rubber bodysuit that she always wore. As she did so, she caught a glance in the mirror of her own image. She growled as she noticed one of the larger problems in her movements.

‘Damn breasts. Why did the Designers have to make them so large? I would be much more silent as I move if I didn’t have these stupid things. Always getting in my way, bouncing this way and that. I almost envy the males for their lack of breasts, if their gonads didn’t control them all. How that bunch of idiots gets Central Self to do anything, I have no idea. Even if he is male, Central should have more sense then that. He’s a reasonable person, actually…for a male, anyway.’

As the cold water sprayed onto her body, Stealth felt her nipples harden, causing her to curse her breasts once again. Running her hands through her short black hair, she kept wondering why she never just shaved it all off.

Then she remembered her conversation with Femme. "Now Stealth, that’s just plain unthinkable. You’ve got a beautiful body and wonderful hair. Now why you persist in hiding it in those long robes and mask is beyond me. You know, if you would just agree to grow out your hair a few inches, I could style in the most adorable French braid! Oooh, you just have to let me do that! And then we could find you a nice blouse and skirt- not too short, of course. We can’t have those perverted males staring at you all the time, now could we…"

Ugh. Skirts. Stealth shivered, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold water or the mere thought of the unappealing garment. No one could do what she did in a skirt. Useless pieces of clothing. They didn’t even have any pockets to hide a knife, poison, or other weapon. Those Central-damned things allowed for almost no leg movement if one wanted to keep modesty. However, due to the fact that no one got on Femme’s bad side if for no other reason to avoid her constant scolding, Stealth had agreed once to wear more ‘feminine’ clothing.

Turning off the showerhead, Stealth grabbed a towel from the rack and proceeded to dry her short hair. While she did so, she gazed into the mirror and scowled at her well-endowed naked figure. As she went over every detail of her body through the mirror, her scowl deepened as she mentally complained again.

‘Why couldn’t I be flat-chested like Prism? She doesn’t have…these. How did she come off so lucky? She doesn’t do anything practical for Central. All that persona does is show him differing points of view using varying emotional viewpoints and she doesn’t have to move like I do. I hate these breasts, with their incredible size and mass.’

Stealth, temporarily finished with her brooding, finished drying herself off. Just as she was opening her dresser for her clothing, a soft knock was heard at the door. Never caring for modesty, the young woman opened the door, wiping her towel on her hair to dry off any parts she missed.

Femme’s eyes widened as she dropped the burden she was carrying. "S-stealth, w-what are y-you doing?"

Either not caring or not noticing the effect her lack of humility was having on the eternally modest Femme, Stealth casually tossed the towel aside, revealing the rest of her naked body. "Oh, hiya Femme. Come on in."

The woman standing at the door blinked a few times before hastily gathering the package she had brought and scrambling into the spy’s room. Quickly picking up the discarded towel, the supermodel attempted to put it back around Stealth, saying, "My dear, you really shouldn’t prance around like that in the nude. What if Regulator or Basket had been at the door instead of me?"

The nude in question snorted as she tossed the towel into the hamper. "Regulator wouldn’t object, and Basket would get one of those nosebleeds that he always gets whenever he sees one of us naked. Considering how many times he’s pulled around the theater by his dick, I’d think he’d be used to it by now-"

"Stealth! Such language!"

Ignoring the scolding persona, Stealth began to go through her morning stretches. After all, one cannot crawl along the catwalks of the theater if one is not properly warmed up. To begin, the spy spread her legs as far as she could and balanced herself on her feet and elbows. Merely sitting there for isometric stretching, she asked her companion exactly what Femme had come here for at such an early hour.

Femme unwrapped the package and placed the contents in front of the naked woman while making as little eye contact as possible, and failing. Her voice trembled slightly as she noticed Stealth’s hanging breasts and spread legs. "Yes, well, you agreed that we should try and make you…presentable, so I made a few things that I thought…would look good on you."

Sighing, Stealth thought to herself, ‘Maybe this won’t be so bad.’

It was a disaster. Trying to climb along the rafters as she usually did was next to impossible, considering how Basket always managed to sneak up behind her and flip up her skirt. Normally, she would able to do the same to him, but due to her high heels, she had virtually none of the mobility she once had. For the first time, she found herself complaining to Regulator, who went into one of his usual homicidal sprees, getting Basket off her back for about an hour or so.

Not only was she reduced to floor travel, but also she had to deal with the entire male (and some of the female) population hitting on her. Considering that this was the first time many of them had seen her without her usual facial mask, most of the personas thought this transition meant that the reclusive Stealth was ready to try some new things.

Normally, Stealth would have simply punched them in the groin to get any feisty personas off of her. However, due to the nature of her acquiescence to Femme, she wasn’t allowed to hurt anyone, not even in self-defense.

Stealth felt another pinch on her rear end. Attempting to quickly turn and punch the offender into next week, Stealth tripped on the laborious high heeled-footwear and fell to the ground, only to be caught a few centimeters from the ground and brought into a passionate kiss from Basket.

‘That’s it. I don’t care what I told Femme. The bastard dies.’

Deciding to handle it in proper Femme-like fashion, Stealth slapped her would-be lover, hard. The aforementioned pervert sailed across the room and embedded himself into the wall, sliding down slowly.

Taking a small pistol from out of her bra, she fired a small needle at Basket, which caused him to black out like a light. After calling Regulator and telling him about the events transpiring, he ventured to ask a question.

"Lassie, ah’m glad ye took down Basket, but why did ye hide it in yer bra?"

Stealth sighed, embarrassed. "I couldn’t think of any other place to put it."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ethics awoke from another nightmare. Always nightmares. Nightmares of wrong decisions made, more people hurt then helped…the dreams of a conscience were not happy ones. Ethics shivered as she pulled on her nightgown over her naked figure. As she felt the cold sweat cling to her figure, she immediately tossed the gown off and threw it on the ground. As the doctor took in the heat of the room, she realized that Central Self must be in a big thinking mood again…Ethics once again cursed the Designers for installing Central with incredible amounts of brain capacity and processing, but almost no cooling capacities for his personas. Obviously comfort wasn’t the foremost priority on their mind when they decided to give their 985^th attempt a try.

Briefly, Ethics considered forgetting wearing clothes all together. Then Basket’s grinning face came to mind and Ethics decided that wearing her usual blouse and slacks before donning her white lab coat. It would be hot and sweltering, as her clothing began to stick to her slim figure, but it would save that pervert the satisfaction of seeing her in her underwear.

Actually, Ethics wasn’t as sought after as some of the other personas were. Femme, Felicity, and Roma were the most desired by Basket, and so Ethics was largely left alone. Exiting her room, Ethics walked down the hallway to the elevator and pressed the elevator door button. It took but a few moments for the car to arrive and whisk the persona down to the lobby.

The continual brainstorm going on outside was worse then usual. ‘Central Self must be researching today. There hasn’t been this terrible of a brainstorm since he discovered nuclear fusion. It must be something pretty important.’

Taking both a raincoat and umbrella from the community rack, Ethics noticed a new sign posted next to the raincoats:

"For those of ye (and this goes double for ye, Basket!) who try and steal mah raingear, ye’ll pay!"

-Yer Benevolent Guide, Regulator

Ethics snorted. Of course it was Basket who was stealing the raingear. Be it brainstorm or bucket of water, Basket would find a way to get the attractive ladies of Central Self wet. With cold water, naturally. That way, he could merely infuriate Regulator instead of sending him into full-blown Kill Basket mode. Not even human unpredictability could survive an enraged Scotsman with a baton.

Only twice could Ethics recall that Basket had done such a deed to push "Rasta-Reggie" over the edge like that. The first time was when Regulator found out what Basket exactly was, and the second time was when Basket lost his virginity to a somewhat reluctant Femme. This was understandable, given that it was Femme’s first time. According to CST (Central Standard Time) it had taken months for Regulator to calm down from those two incidents, and months longer for Basket to heal from Regulator’s rather brutal brand of ‘justice’.

There might have been more accidents, but only Archive would know for sure. The doctor reminded herself to ask the dusty old historian later as she pulled the only remaining raincoat and umbrella from the rack and slipped the coat on. She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed it was much too big for her, (must be one of the males’ coats) and would thereby provide more protection from the freezing-cold rain. Given the musk emanating from the coat itself, it wasn’t hard to tell who had worn it last.

‘How many times do I have to put up with Eccentric’s cologne? That Central-damned concoction is the most vile and revolting smell I have ever encountered. How Social and Basket can stand that day after day, I have no idea.’

Ethics opened the umbrella and walked out into the storm. The rain bounced off the stone causeway. In the distance, she noticed the spotlights of the theater. Blue Collar had installed them so that no persona would get lost in the ever-present dark thunderstorm which surrounded both the theater and the hotel that housed all of the personas. They were instated after Pest had forgotten a flashlight and had gotten lost. For weeks after that, everyone else in their little community took satisfaction in the fact that the King of Insults had fallen on his own butt for a change.

Ethics smiled both at the recollection and at reaching the eight pane-glass doors that represented the entrance to the theater. There was a gust that accompanied her inside and caused many angry grunts from the personas already present. Mumbling an apology, Ethics removed her raingear and placed it on a nearby hangar to dry.

A few seconds after making sure the gear was safely stowed, Ethics turned to see all of the other personas assembled in a rough semicircle facing her. Temporarily taken aback, the doctor stepped back onto the rain-soaked tile, only to slip and fall. Faster then the eye could track, two hands darted out and grabbed her wrists, easily pulling her back to a standing position. As the flailing persona brought her balance back under control, she looked up and noticed the helmeted mask of her savoir.

As he brought up the faceplate, Ethics smiled. "Thank you for saving me, Paladin."

The warrior grinned back and bowed his head slightly in a gesture of respect. "‘Twas nothing, my lady. In fact, it was our folly for startling you so. Our humble group only came here to express our sincere gratitude to you for your brilliant decision yesterday concerning our benevolent Central Self. Both he and I are eternally grateful for your clever idea that saved many. I only wished to offer my humble thanks for what you have done."

Paladin brought his face to the startled woman’s hand and lightly kissed it, drawing a blush from Ethics. "Really, Paladin. It wasn’t that big of a deal. All I did was weigh the ethical consequences, and make a-"

The young doctor was interrupted by a feral scream the sound of an assault rifle. "Get back ‘ere, ye wretched dog!"

Basket came running down the stairs, looking behind him with a rather pained look in his eyes. It might have been fear, but it was more then likely that it was the rather large hole in his arm. The cause wasn’t very vague, as one enraged flame-haired Scotsman quickly followed the beleaguered Basket, an assault rifle in one hand, his trusty baton in the other. Basket dashed off, running into the storm outside, tightly clutching his bleeding arm.

The more powerful personas sprung into action. Soldier and Paladin, two of the more physically able members of the group, leapt at Regulator, tackling him and depriving the embroiled policeman of his weaponry as they sought to knock him senseless. Regulator, being the most powerful of all the personas (excluding Basket) put up a tough fight. However, the sheer fighting ability of the two military personnel overpowered the berserk baton-swinger. A few minutes and more then a few holes in the walls later, a thoroughly unconscious Regulator was dragged back to his quarters at the hotel, leaving everyone else to mill about their daily business.

Worried about Basket, Ethics also headed back to the hotel through the squall outside. Not finding the wounded Northman in his quarters, the doctor found her door smashed in and a small pool of blood at the entrance. Stepping within, the healer noticed the wounded man sitting in a nearby chair, tightly clutching his left forearm. There was blood still seeping from the wound. Also, he was soaking wet, too much in a hurry from the berserk Regulator to worry about raingear.

He spoke slowly for once, taking deep breaths in between every few words. "Hey doc, I got…a small problem here…You think you could help me out?"

Gasping for dramatic effect, Ethics ran over to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit stored within. Taking out the hydrogen peroxide, the doctor poured some onto a cotton ball, which she dabbed, onto the wound to prevent infection. As she felt the involuntary twinge in Basket’s muscles, she wondered why she was trying to prevent infection, due to the fact that they weren’t in the "real world"; after all, this was Central’s mind. Shrugging, Ethics decided that it was better to be safe then sorry. She continued to disinfect the wound, keeping a tight hold on Basket’s hand. As she washed the injury, she tried to start up some conversation. "So, what did you do to drive Regulator over the end like that?"

"Have you seen Stealth today?"

Trying to recollect if she had seen the reclusive spy earlier, Ethics temporarily halted her treatment. "No, I didn’t get the chance. What happened, you try and get her to cure Regulator of his impotency?"

A light chuckle emanated from the patient. "No, nothing like that, although that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t be able to make any impotent jokes if that worked, though. Anyway, Femme convinced our little spy persona to act more ladylike, so I decided to introduce her to the fine art of-"

"Your patented ‘1,000 ways to satisfy a woman’ techniques?"

The man looked as if he was planning to object, but thought better of it. "Well, yeah. Anyway, so I try and make a move, and she slaps me across the theater and hits me with some kind of paralysis drug. I wake up later and Reggie’s pissed as if someone had given him an atomic wedgie or something. Given the rifle in his hands, I ran as if CUJO himself was after me."

"A prudent idea."

"Tell me about it. By CUJO’s penguin legions, Rasta-Reggie’s gotten faster. It must be that bug up his ass."

Cleaning off the last of the fresh blood with a piece of medicinal cloth, Ethics removed some gauze and cut a reasonably sized piece. Basket leaned forward, a grin showing on his face. "So, after you fix me up, wanna get some grub from the mess hall?"

Still smiling, Ethics began to apply the gauze.

"Damnit woman, isn’t that a little tight?…OWWWW!!!!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another day of chaos. Today would be the day…the day that order would be restored to the mind of Central! The devoted disciplinarian would teach those who would dare prefer chaos to order accordingly. Basket…he must be conquered! Regulator wasn’t doing enough to stop him, and Central was too busy with real world concerns, and so the task fell to her.

Discipline. She would bring order to the disordered mass that was Central Self’s mind. Some called her Regulator’s bulldog, but she took that as an insult, considering that Regulator was civil to that bastion of chaos a little less then half the time. If only she had more power, more influence, more-

"Hey, Dicey! Open up! I wanna talk!"

More time to herself. Sighing in resignation of the sad fact that none would leave her alone, the teacher slipped on a robe and walked to the door, calling out for lights a few seconds too late after stubbing her toe on a piece of furniture. Opening the door, she noticed a bright and cheery Eccentric standing there with a big, dumb grin on his face.

"What do you want?" She nearly growled.

The plump, bald aristocrat with the terrible gray wig laughed. "I just wanted to wish you a good morning, my dear Discipline! After all, you’re always so grumpy, I thought you might like a nice wake up call! Anyway-" He was rudely cut off as the half-asleep Discipline slammed the door in his face. Outside, Eccentric was a little miffed, but he knew better then to try and talk with the strict enforcer of order. She wasn’t exactly a morning person.

Meanwhile, said person was taking a nice, hot bath. Morning baths always left her feeling fresh, recharged, and ready to take on all of Chaos before breakfast. Well, given how many personas liked Basket and enjoyed ‘stirring things up a bit’, it would probably take before lunch. Or dinner. Or tomorrow. Or never. Discipline sank beneath the water line in an expression of semi-hopelessness. Perhaps her fight was a pointless one after all. Perhaps…

The unmistakable voice was apparent even through the walls of her quarters. "Ah’ll get ye this time, Basket!"

The equally distinct speech shot back only moments later. "Oh come on, Rasta-Reggie. It’s only a few paintballs. Just get Femme to wash your uniform for you, and I’m sure you’ll find some way of payment- hey, watch that baton! You could hurt someone with that!"

"That’s the idea, ye chaotic nimrod!"

Discipline’s eyes sank beneath the waterline as she blew air bubbles out of her mouth. Those two would continue trying to annoy each other for eternity, see if they don’t. Didn’t Regulator realize that by his constant duels with Basket, he was contributing to the Chaos that she had fought against for all of this time?

Realizing the water had grown cold for some time now, the middle-aged woman stepped out of the bath and surveyed herself in the mirror. Graying hair done up in a short bun, a slightly plump body and small body accentuated the size of her gray eyes and large head. There were a few wrinkles on her face, adding to the air of annoyance that was clearly presented in her ever-present scowl.

Given her constantly dark attitude, some personas liked to joke behind her back that she was a cross between Regulator and Pest. She heard the jibes, but she didn’t care. They would all soon be organized and united in doing their duty of protecting Central from all threats, internal and external. A small smile found its way onto her lips as she envisioned that bright moment, sometime in the future.

Until then, she would have to make due with what she had. Getting dressed in a smartly cut brown jacket and slacks, Discipline exited her room. Noticing the large paint splotches along the walls of the corridor, the teacher let out a sigh. Slowly walking towards the elevator, the middle-aged woman encountered another of her fellow personas, Ninjo. For some reason, he was wearing a red samurai garb instead of his usual formal kimono. In his hand was a paintball rifle. Over his face was a war helmet representative of the time period his occupation hailed from. Rushing up to meet him as they both arrived at the elevator, Discipline asked him what was going on.

"Did you know not, fair Discipline? Ohh, very bad for you, mam! Did you not receive the memo from Regulator?"

Discipline pressed the lobby button angrily. She hated it when her fellow companions refused to tell her immediately what she wanted to know. "Would you just drop that accent and tell me already?"

Ninjo snorted as his voice settled into a voice without accentuation. "You’re no fun. Anyway, Regulator circled around a memo yesterday that told everyone that because of Ethics’s great job yesterday in that little incident, he’s throwing a paintball party, and we’re all going to play a few rounds. Strange that you didn’t hear about it. Let’s see…"

The samurai removed a small piece of paper from behind his breastplate and looked over the contents. "You’re on…the blue team, headed by Regulator. Figures, I suppose. I’m on red, led by Basket…you sure you didn’t get the memo?"

"I was busy!" Discipline shot back, afraid that Ninjo would find out about the fact that she had ‘confiscated’ Basket’s collection of naughty magazines. She only kept them to prove to herself once again what a demon he was, or so she told herself.

The samurai shrugged. "Well, I suggest you find some armor and a paintball gun quickly. You’re not exactly the most well-liked persona, and you’ve got quite a few enemies. If you don’t, expect to wake up with more then a few bruises tomorrow."

With the elevator making a pleasant dinging sound signaling their arrival on the ground floor, the warrior made his way straight to the door while Discipline walked over to the raingear. Before he opened the door to the squall outside, the persona of Honor spoke to the bitter disciplinarian. "I shall not shoot at you, because you are not armed, and it is against my code of honor to do so. However, not all of us are bound or blinded as I am. Be careful, Discipline."

With that last comment, Ninjo opened the door and, covering his eyes slightly with one arm, ran off into the storm in the general direction of the theater. Discipline watched him go with a sneer on her face. "I cannot believe I’m reduced to participate in such a barbarous activity. Such competition only spurs resentment, and resentment leads to fragmentation, which leads to chaos. Chaos that I cannot allow."

Her hands clenched into fists. "I cannot, must not allow this to go on. Central Self shall have a unified persona following, and I shall be the one to unify our community!" Not bothering to wear anything to protect herself from the rain, the nearly elderly woman dashed off into the tempest, rushing off towards the movie house. The rain was freezing and seeped through her gray hair along with her clothing, but she was unmindful. The only course on her mind was to stop this prelude to something she considered to be contrary to the common good.

As she opened one of the glass doors, she heard a shout which sounded very much like Basket. "Hey, red team! We’ve got a new playmate! Everyone, fire!!!"

As the paintballs began to impact, Discipline was beginning to wonder if taking Ninjo’s advice was such a bad idea.

To be continued…

Author’s Notes: Well, there’s Day of Personas, Part One. In the next Part, Regulator, Sentry, and Basket have their days monitored. This one, however, is going to be written by The_Dane, not myself. If you’ve liked this sidestory and have any other suggestions for any of the personas that haven’t been done yet, feel free to email me at quanta_masta@hotmail.com

Until next time,

Polar Kodiak