Stelle sat across from the officers, a cup of lukewarm water untouched in front of her. The interview room wasn't intimidating, just plain and bright, with a monitor in the corner still replaying clips of the earlier fight.
She folded her hands on the table. "Everything that happened was broadcast on live TV," she said. "There isn't much to add. Like I said."
One of the officers, a tired-looking woman with a notebook, nodded and jotted something down. "We understand, Miss Stelle. Still, we need to confirm a few things. You weren't injured? No lingering discomfort?"
"No. I'm fine."
Another officer leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "We know these incidents can be stressful. If you need counseling or support services, we can connect you."
"That won't be necessary." Stelle offered a small, polite smile. "I appreciate the concern."
They exchanged glances, as if deciding they'd done their due diligence.
"Well," the first officer said, closing her notebook, "if anything comes to mind later, you can call our department directly. We'd like to offer you a ride home, too. There's still some clean-up going on near the scene."
Stelle shook her head. "It's convenient to walk back. I need to stop and pick something up on the way."
The officer hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. One last thing. If Aurora attempts to contact you for any reason, report it to us. Immediately. These… vigilante types don't always follow protocol."
Stelle kept her expression neutral. "Understood."
Stelle gathered her things, and one of the officers stopped her with a small gesture. "Ah, your ID card." He handed over her student ID.
"Thanks," she said, slipping it into her bag.
A few steps later she pushed open the doors of the station and walked outside. The sun was low but bright, casting long shadows over the steps.
"That took forever." Mem said while slumping over in the air.
Stelle started walking back south towards her apartment, stopping at the general-goods store on the same block as the police station, and purchasing an immersion blender.
Making her way back up the stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet, just how she left it.
While the events earlier had been exciting, it was now almost 15:00, and Stelle still hadn't eaten lunch yet.
Stelle set her bags on the counter and rolled up her sleeves. Lunch first. Everything else later.
She pulled out the ingredients and lined them up. The recipe wasn't complicated, just a bit time consuming.
She chopped one medium onion, then eight or so cloves of garlic. Mem floated nearby, watching in silence for once.
She heated some olive oil in the bottom of a large pot. Once it shimmered, she added the chopped onion. It cooked down quickly, turning soft and clear. She tossed in the garlic and stirred for about a minute, just until the smell hit.
Next came the tomatoes: three large cans of crushed tomatoes and a can of tomato sauce. She poured it all in, the pot filling fast.
She added the seasonings: 5 grams of dried basil, 5 grams of crushed red pepper flakes, a small amount of crushed basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and a pinch of salt. She gave it a long stir, set the heat to low, and let it simmer.
The kitchen stayed quiet except for the light bubbling of the sauce.
About twenty minutes later, she checked the timer. Six and a half minutes left. Time to start the pasta.
She filled the pan with water, salted it heavily, and set it to boil. Once it bubbled, she dropped in 112 grams of penne. Eight to nine minutes. Simple enough.
With a few minutes left on the pasta, she grabbed the immersion blender and blended the sauce in the pot until it was smooth, before cleaning it off in the sink.
When the timer hit, she drained the pasta into a colander, keeping back a bit of the pasta water in the pan. She put the pan back on the heat, ladled in a few scoops of the finished sauce, and added the pasta back in. A quick stir brought everything together.
Mem finally spoke up, drifting sideways. "Smells amazing."
She poured it all into a large bowl, scraping everything out of the pan with a soft plastic spatula.
Sitting at the small two person dining table, she turned on the tv, and a news program started playing.
Opening the TV guide, she realised that the apartment did not include TV in the price, and the only available channels were news channels, along with a few public access channels.
She left it open, letting it play in the background while she ate.
"Authorities are investigating another incident in which a teenage passerby was struck by a truck while pushing a young girl out of harm's way earlier this afternoon."
The anchor continued, tone steady, almost routine. "This marks the third such case in the city within the past four years. Witnesses report the truck was completely white, with no visible company markings, no identifying logos, and no license plate on either the cab or the trailer. Both the vehicle and the driver fled the scene and have not been located. Eyewitnesses say that it is the same truck as the previous incidents. Shown here is an artists representation of the vehicle."
Stelle paused mid-bite.
Huh? Truck-kun?
The segment transitioned to on-site footage. A reporter stood near a taped-off intersection.
"We spoke with several witnesses who described the vehicle as 'unnervingly plain' and 'easy to overlook.' One witness claimed it appeared suddenly, almost as if—"
The report suddenly cut away to the next story.
"Breaking news, we go to a street interview with Mayor Cecil regarding the attack that occurred earlier today. As many viewers know, the incident was broadcast live across several districts."
The camera panned to an old man with thin white hair, a long coat, and the relaxed posture of someone who had been in office far longer than anyone remembered. A microphone hovered near him.
"Mayor Cecil, what are your thoughts on today's monster attack?"
He nodded sagely, then said, in a gravelly voice, "Magical girls. Good."
He gave the camera a firm thumbs up.
Before the reporter could ask anything else, he reached into his coat and pulled out a keychain of Aurora doing a victory pose. He held it up with absolute pride.
"Limited edition," he added.
Then he turned around and wandered off down the sidewalk with no further explanation.
The reporter hesitated. "…Back to the studio."
Stelle leaned against the counter, stirring her pasta absentmindedly while Mem hovered nearby, wings folded neatly behind her.
"Stelle," Mem started, her voice firm, "you absolutely have to become a magical girl."
"I don't have magic," Stelle said flatly, not looking up.
"Path power is basically magic," Mem countered, her tone smug.
Stelle raised an eyebrow. "I don't have a magical girl outfit. I don't have a transformation. That's, like… a key part of being a magical girl."
"Give me some time," Mem said confidently. "I'll design a magical girl outfit for you. And, I can be the mascot!" She made a tiny flourish with one hand. "I promise I won't turn out to be evil."
"Why exactly do you seem so obsessed with magical girls anyway?" she asked, lowering her fork.
"I reviewed all the entertainment from your memories," Mem replied. "And out of all of it… magical girls are the peak."
"I don't even like magical girls that much," Stelle muttered, frowning.
"You have to become a magical girl," Mem said, wagging a finger. "Or else I'll be sad. And it's the best way to save people from the evils plaguing this world!"
"We've seen… like, one evil," Stelle pointed out.
"I'm sure there will be more!" Mem said, arms crossed, eyes wide with certainty. "And you'll be ready to defeat them."
Stelle got up, washing off her now empty plate in the sink, before filling several large jars with the remaining sauce, before placing two in the fridge, and the remaining ones in the freezer.
"Well, you do… whatever. I am going to go learn more about this world from the internet." Stelle said, before laying on the couch and pulling out her phone.
A.N give power stones please.