[[Closed to Miss Rayleigh and others by invite only]]

Alyssa Snow, the newly appointed Empress of the Tarot Hierarchy, toiled tirelessly into the late hours of the day at her personal workbench. Oil stained her fingers and the use of small tools on delicate machinery had chipped her nails down to the finger. Under the dim but focused lamplight, she drew her arm across a sweaty brow and a few messy locks of blonde.

"Maybe if I..." she mumbled to an empty room scattered with strange crystals, oddly shaped metallic parts, and the occasional feminine touch such as the "Girlcave" placard hanging above the entrance.

The gutted rifle she occasionally used in the field clicked and shot a spark at its master. Alyssa snapped her hand back and swung it wildly as if trying to fling off some attached biting insect.

"Ow! Shit!" she swore before promptly sticking her dirty finger in her mouth. Immediately, she flared her nostrils at the taste, but held it in her mouth to sooth the stinging pain.

The rifle sizzled and cooled, then emanated another click followed by what sounded like charging capacitor. The young woman pulled her finger from her lips and leaned inward toward the gun. She flipped one of many lenses strapped to her head before nodding appreciatively.

"Perfect," Alyssa muttered, pulling the array of optics off her frazzled head.

Her fingers worked methodically as she reassembled the outer chassis. In a matter of seconds, the weapon looked complete. Like a mad scientist honoring a massive success, she carefully hoisted it up in two hands. With lamplight at its back, the rifle accurately fit the majesty Alyssa felt in her work.

"Time for the range!" she declared.

Then, with a heft, swing and a tug, the rifle slapped against her back, and she made way toward the practice hall downstairs. Each step carried excitement and anxiety. She hoped her hard work would pay off.