((sorry esspecially for this massively slow reply. Also, this reply is not in the order of posting, it's in the order of what I find convenient to reply to first, so as to prevent things from getting silly.))
As Mithias spoke, time seemed to slow down. Bob looked down on the orb in a way that could almost be described as... awe. Her hair moved in serpentine grace, strands hovering towards the bright surface, but hesitating, as if it were a ball of flame. A slow smile rose over her face, and this slight silence only prolonged as the rest of the room slowed to a practical stop. "Oooooh..... you have no idea what you offer. You are foolish, and naive, and perhaps that is why you wield what I could never wield. No, child, this is not mine, and it does not come from me. It comes from the same place as me, certainly, it is a child of the Chaos Realms, where all emotional energy is gathered. However, it would seem it has already chosen who will wield it, and an appropriate bearer it is indeed." Slight sparks can be felt arcing between Bob and the orb. And then, you realize that her grasp had not hesitated. It had been retaliated. Each strand quivered, as if incapable of standing the light, pushing against an invisible barrier.
Bob's expression changed instantly, as it always does. Awe turns to mischievous delight, as she spins backwards, her hair returning to the grasp of physics, to an extent. She looks off to the distance, smiling. "Oh, you're going to need to show Lon. She's far better at this whole prophecy thing, she specialises in it, in fact. Although I'd gander this little twist of events might surprise even those who watch the Threads of Fate for a living. Just remember, my dear. Hope cannot exist on it's own, and if faced with pure light, it loses all purpose, and will fade. Only in the deepest darkness can it truly prosper, and only from the blackest chains will it free you, if you free it." With those cryptic words, time resumes it's normal cycle, and, to the rest of the world, Bob had simply teleported once more.
"Now, I'll be keeping Najimi. She violated the rules I just made up, so she's mine! Isn't it sweet? I love owning this place, the perks are amazing." She holds up the Najimi doll, and it seems to sink away into the top of her cane, as if it were a tar pit, and she were a helpless kitten being cruelly tortured. In fact, for some reason, the image of kittens and tar is broadcasted to everyone's brains directly. It takes a moment for everyone to figure out Bob is fucking with them. "However, I believe you people have an appointment, and I would HATE to keep you waiting for my sake." She strolls away, the tables, pillars, and floor flowing aside to make way for her, as the party, even those that don't move by themselves, find themselves not far behind. As she passes Kevin, however, her cane whips up to hit the back of his glass, as he finds the contents spilling not only down his throat, but all over his face.
With a series of agonising screams, Kevin crashes to the floor, clutching his face and chest. it burned hotter than liquid fire, and froze his heart in place. Pure agony wrecked him, driving him into spasms of anguish, his mind blank, his face contorted. For several seconds, he simply writhes, his conscious mind incapable of coping with the liquid pain that he was being subjected to. After a little, however, the agony subsided to the level of mere torture, and he found himself once more in control of his frantic mind, even as he could sense his skin being lacerated with cuts.
Bob simply giggles. "Why does EVERYONE fall for that? It will never stop being funny!"
Matters soon turn more serious, however, as she arrives at her destination. A large black glass table stands, adorned with any number of exotic foods from all over the multiverse, gathered here by the Lord of Curiosity. From the ancient wine of forgotten civilisations, to the life-blood of ancient Gods, to the roasted hearts of interstellar dragons kept beating by necromantic power. Many of these would be worth fortunes for their rarity alone, and it was not to be doubted that Bob had received some form of payment for the display. What this payment had consisted of, however, would remain a mystery, thankfully.
On one end of the table, impatiently bending back and forth a large steel bar, sat Toguro. His black skin shone like marble, a man made from onyx, his features highlighted by streaks of dark blue in the stone-like material. His eyes were easily the most noticeable part of his mostly monotone body, however, as they burned with a bright purple energy, occasional lightning-like bolts of energy crackling over his 'skin'. It seemed nearly impossible that the glass chair he had been provided with could hold his weight, as he stood almost a meter higher than human standards, As the party approached, his eyes turned to them, his smile unreadable. However, his eyes seemed to hold some form of challenge, an invitation without words.
On the other end of the table sat Bob, or at the very least an imitation of suck. Although every detail had, indeed, been copied physically, it lacked Bob's sheer aura. It was an imperfect copy, an emotionless being that stared at the group as they arrived. While most certainly most would have simply thought it was another one of Bob's tricks, those that had seen it in action would be well aware that this was 5, simply taking another form, mimicking another being. In fact, even as the party arrived, a wave seemed to wash over it's body, replacing it's feminine features and extravagant outfit with angular, insectoid carapace. However, although it seemed to mimic Bug in every way, some details seemed to have changed. 5 wore a long white lab coat, stained with a mysterious black liquid. It's form seemed slightly different, smaller, of a different hue. And in it's hands, lying on the table, was a single black, nondescript suitcase.
Most ominous of all, however, was the figure sitting in the centre of the formation. Far from as impressive-looking as the other two, Genocide was a short man. He had dark brown hair, medium length, with shoots of grey showing his age. While not a beard, he sported a stubble on his chin that indicated he hadn't shaved in a while. he wore a grey suit of fairly standard make, like what one might see on a cubicle employee, as well as a bright pink tie, with a pattern of blue elephants running across it. The most surprising aspect were the large, cuddly-looking bear slippers he was wearing, faintly visible through the tinted glass. To say the least, he was not a very impressive-looking foe. And yet, what made up for it was the eyes. His eyes were grey, but not the grey of storms, or the grey of metal. It was not an empty grey, nor was it a faded grey. It was a grey that seemed to radiate, that seemed to leap from his eyes and burn what it beheld. His gaze was not appropriate of a man wearing slippers of any description, and as he looked up, it was as if a wall of sheer mental force slammed into the group.
Smiling, Genocide leaned forward. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm so glad we can finally meet. I always like to know employees personally."
((Notice: This post was done on a time limit. I'm planning additions for Mia, as well as an update on what happens to Najimi. However, I don't have the time to put that in right now, sorry. They will come tomorrow morning!))
