Tatsuya merely glanced at The Joxster. "Just be quiet. I was testing something..." He was still holding his pistols. "My power didn't work on them. These paintings are not normal. If they were, or even if they were living, they would have been vaporized."

Ib jumped almost a foot into the air as one of the others tried to shoot the paintings. A shiver flashed down her spine and she glanced nervously at the paintings surrounding them. A flash of blue caught her eye and she had to look again to make sure she saw what she actually saw. As if in a daze, Ib took staggering steps towards the painting hanging to her right. The small child reached a hand up, trembling fingers brushing the frame. It...It couldn't be. Same frayed jacket, same odd hair color. It was him. There was no mistake. Knees as weak as noodles collapsed under her, unable to bear the weight of her grief. Crimson eyes remained fixed on his peaceful face as tears streamed down her face. Sobs, at first the silent shake of her shoulders, trickled out into the dead air of that room. Out of all the things she had seen in that horrid place, this...this was the thing that broke her. The feeling she had gotten when she had seen her parents portrait came back ten times as fierce. Gary...Gary had been her lifeline, the only thing that had kept her going through that nightmare. Ib sobbed, feeling just as lost and scared as she had been the first time the artwork started coming alive around her. Her fingers clenched at the painting, tiny shoulders shaking. What...What had happened? Why Gary...Why... Ib curled in on herself. She didn't care if the others were looking at her like she was crazy.

River saw the girl sink to her knees, and advanced towards her. "What's wron-". She was cutt off mid sentence when she saw the painting with the brown hair. No.... She looked at it closer. Same brown eyes. Same black jacket. Same white smile. Same brown scruffy hair. She suddenly realized why the girl was crying. These pictures were memories, moments of all of them. "Oh my Gods...," she whispered loudly, stroking the picture before falling to her knees besides the little girl. "Oh my Gods!" she exclaimed, streams of silent tears flowing down her cheeks.

The other occupants of this room had began introducing themselves. She saw no reason not to give her name, but she did not see a reason to do so either. The only thought she had at the moment was to figure out what was going on and how she had got into this place, not make friends with a bunch of strangers. Clearly enough, she and everyone here were taken away from their familiar lives and gathered together by an entity whose power was great enough to teleport this many people. If it was no witch, nor a deed of Homura, then what was it? And what did she have to do with this seemingly unrelated group of individuals? Another magical girl? What? And the ironic part was, the strangest thing she felt was not the fact that she was in a room with a talking jaguar and a giant robot; it was the fact that she had remembered everything that had happened to her before coming here, including Homura taking both her memories and her powers away from her. Yet her memories were intact, and she could feel her power surging inside her once more, instead of the numb feeling she had the last couple of weeks as an average high school student. If coming here restored the memories and powers she was stolen of, did it not mean it was related to Homura after all, the one involved in the theft? She became even more puzzled than before, if that was possible. The confusion left her weak and breathless, and as she leaned against the nearest white wall for support, she felt like sitting down and think about this. "Query: Organic why is your hair blue?" "Terrific," she thought. First, the strangers were making nice with each other, and now, one of them was asking silly questions about her hair color. And then it hit her, though not as hard as the memory-restoration she had. "Why is my hair blue?" she wondered. She never had to ask herself that question before. Both her parents had natural black hair, and so did the parents of her friends, yet most of the people she had hung out with had unnatural hair color like they were in some kind of... anime. "...Nah!" She shrugged off the notion. The world around her seemed crazy at the moment, but they couldn't be that crazy. And besides, there were more important things to worry about right then than whether if she had unconsciously dyed her hair or not. "Well, I'm not sure," she answered the robot with as friendly a tone as she could muster, scratching her scalp in nervousness, "it has always been blue like that..." There were certainly a lot of weird individuals in the room with her, yet they acted so normally, talking with each other, acquainting with one another. One of them certainly stood out from the crowd; after all, he was trying to shoot the paintings. She would have normally stopped him if this was a museum back in her reality, being the self-righteous marshal she was. But the fact was, she did not even know if she was dreaming or trapped in another world where the logic she was used to did not apply, magical logic or otherwise. She held her movement, keeping a stern observation of the boy's next move in case he decided to hurt someone with his pistols. "W....whatever you're doing, kid, I don't think it's gonna make a difference. Maybe you should take a closer look at the picture before you do anything rash?" Upon the short man's mentioning of the paintings, Sayaka paid but a brief glance to them and quickly pivoted her eyes back onto the armed boy. She had thought that they were just normal pictures hung in an art gallery. But after an equally brief moment since she had peeped at the artworks, she felt something was off and gradually shifted her attention back to them. She felt a presence from the paintings unlike the ones coming from the people in the room - a malicious, overwhelming aura oozing out as if powerful magic had been imbued into them. The invisible air of terror did make her nervous, but in terms of pale appearances, those pictures did not occur to her as out of the ordinary. Santa Claus and Sherlock Holmes, Caesar and even Jesus; this gallery might not have a consistent theme, but it seemed like a normal collection of random pictures to the naked eye. That was until she saw it, the one painting that mattered to her. "Oktavia von Seckendorff", the witch form she was able to summon at will, an armored mermaid knight wielding a cutlass not unlike the one she used. She covered her mouth, muffling her scream, and hopefully stifling her vomit. Her arms began to shake like a dying leaf in Autumn, her knees were trembling so much that she nearly fell onto the marbled floor. It was not the sight of her other self that she had been frightened of - she had got used to that - it was the sight of Oktavia slaughtering her friends, slicing the teenage girls up with its sword, being reminded that she was once that mindless, raging beast. She finally cracked. First a whimper, then loud sobs, and finally painful screams for mercy. "NO!" she yelled, huddling her head between her hands as she slid against the wall into a fetal position. She buried her face deep into her thighs, but taking her eyes away from the picture did not help; the images were still repeating in her mind. She had no choice! She could see her friends through the eyes of Oktavia, but all she could feel at that time was hopelessness and despair, a vast emptiness that ate at her soul. All she wanted was to satisfy the only thoughts in her head during those moments she was turned into a witch - utter hatred and bitterness for the world. Madoka had told her what must be hundreds of times by now that it was not her fault, but even today, no matter how much she told herself otherwise, she could not truly accept it in her heart. She knew - it was her who had tried to murder her friends, not the witch. And "tried" was the definitive word. She never really wanted to kill them. Amid the soul-sucking despair, she had only wanted their attention, lashing out at the world like a child throwing a tantrum. When a voice screams in a person's head, all one could do is scream back. And that was exactly what she had done - angrily scream back at the voices in her head. "Why couldn't I just forget?!" she had wanted to shout, but quickly stopped herself. "No... I deserve this. It's my punishment... I'm so sorry."

Darkhunter remained mostly neutral throughout these little bits of conversation. Coming from his world, he had no idea what that clanking creature even was made of, so he just eyed him with natural suspicion. He had taken to laying down in a sphinx-like position on his snow-colored belly, tail gently dancing about in the air behind him. He gave a curious glance over to the newly formed lioness, and a little friendly mewl, but again Darkhunter took his favorite position of staying quiet and observing. The names were noted and so were their personalities, his silver eyes flitting around and looking deep into each and every one of them. That thing, named Mizn apparently, seriously made him uncomfortable, and he could see how much the little girl... Ib?... distrusted him. It didn't help that he had a telepathic mind. The skinny who was slowly muttering to himself that it was a dream was simply oozing his denial of the situation. Darkhunter looked over to him and growled, "Do you seriously think this is a dream? No dream is this vivid, and I can see from your brain activity that you are certainly not sleeping... Alfonzo." That person named Alfonzo would likely be upset at the presence that had invaded his head for a brief moment, but Darkhunter was not thinking of that right now. He went back to listening and observing with his feline ears, taking his time to churn the information, until some odd presence found itself into the room. The cat's sensitive mind immediately felt it. He hissed and roared, backing up, pressing himself into a corner after running into several pedestals. He looked around with wide, glowing eyes, probing the minds of everyone there, trying to see who was doing this. He was slammed by the range of grief and anguish hitting them, another loud roar echoing off of the walls before he went to snarling and hissing. He was shaking and panting as he stood up and stumbled over, trying to see what they were all looking at, just barely wrangling his emotions. What... he was staring at a portrait of Starfall and Nightspirit. They were in some sort of clearing, leaning on each other, smiling, each and every beautiful detail standing out to him vividly. Darkhunter slowly collapsed onto the floor once more, moaning, wrapping his paws around his head and writhing. That aura, it was just... overpowering. He was going to lose it... Darkhunter pulled his arms away and looked up into the smiling faces of the two he loved. He sat up and just stared more without even a tail movement, slowly managing to say, "I... I want out of here... if I don't get... get out... Im going to lose my mind." He huffed, a rough, guttural sound, "This... this is a bad place. We need... need to leave."

Ib's sobs eventually quieted and now the child was curled against the wall shivering. She appeared in a daze, red eyes unfocused and brightened by tears. She just couldn't wrap her mind around it though the evidence was right in front of her. Maybe...Maybe she fell and hit her head and this was all a mess-up dream? She frailly clung to that tiny hope though in the back of her mind a voice was whispering that sadly this was all real. A few more tears trickled down her face and she raised a tiny hand to wipe at them only for more to take their place. She vaguely heard voice next to her and she tried to focus her eyes. One of the women was on her knees next to her while Darkhunter was on her other side. She straightened a little, gazing up at the painting the feline kept staring at. It was beautiful to be sure and she wondered if these were the mates he had mentioned earlier. "This place is worse than the other Gallery." she said half to herself. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling more tired than she was previously. She tried to stand up on shaky legs. The first attempt had her falling back against the wall as her legs gave out on her. She took a deep breath and tried again, standing with more success. She took a survey of the people in the room, each showing different degrees of shock and horror as they stared at their own painting. "This place is not good for our sanity. We need to leave." With that she walked over to the hall, peering around the corner.

Tatsuya suddenly froze up as he saw one of the paintings. "M-miyuki..." He literally dropped his Longhorn Tridents while staring at the picture. His normally cool demeanor vanished, as he stared, stunned, at that picture.

Convincing himself made him feel a little bit better, and less worried, until he realized something else, right from where he woke up. The painting that he found on the wall a few minutes ago, the image it contained, it looked very familiar. Bringing his notice back to the image, he once again took another look at the illustrious painting. He stared at it very carefully and studied the painting as it reminded him of someplace, and then he realized it. The picture, it was the training facility back in Annapolis. His face was of amusement when he had confirmed what the illustration was. It looked really nice, and whoever did it sure knew what they were doing. Everything was detailed perfectly, like if he was there again, getting all sweaty and pumped, going through some aerobics or martial arts. Everyone else in the room became more hesitant because of their views of the other paintings that stood before them, but to Al, since he still thought it was all an illusion, felt that the work on the wall was pleasing and fulfilling. Everyone else still looked too worried, but Al was more concerned of the artistry that he wanted to walk around and check everything out that the place had to offer, even if it was a bit weird. He took a walk around until he came across one of the other paintings, and one of the members in the museum with him. It was the guy with the dark hair and the blue eyes, looking at the art that stood in front of him. Alfonzo stood next to him and took a look as well, only to see a visual of someone in it. He didn't know who it was, but still, the artistry was still very nice. He turned his attention to the male standing next to him as he stared into the painting as if he was amused, or at least to Al’s point of view. “Yeah.......it’s a nice painting, isn't it?”

The picture that Tatsuya was staring at looked like this: He picked up his Tridents again and aimed at a 1 mg piece of dirt on the floor. "Everyone get behind me. I think I know how to make an exit. I can shield you from the blast if you're behind me, but if you're anywhere else there's no guarantees."

The wailing lasted about half a minute, maybe even lesser. Sayaka breathed in as she tried her best to regulate her heartbeat. Leaning against the wall behind her for support, she picked herself up. Her snow white cheeks flushed a deep red, not just from the crying, but also from embarrassment. She thought that she had became stronger than this by now, that she was used to the fact that she had unwillingly committed sins beyond her control. She had to learned to live with those nightmarish memories everyday, after all. Well, almost everyday. Perhaps after Homura had wiped her mind clean, she became out of practice. The way that picture suddenly came flashing before her had taken her aback. It was like an old enemy rending her heart with its scythe, reminding her that it will always be by her side, haunting her. "Ahem, sorry about that," Sayaka whimpered under a cracked voice, her throat sore from the screaming session she just had. She did her best to put up a cheerful smile, but her attempt to dart her eyes away from the picture was conspicuous. Even now, subtle trembles were still visible across her arms. She used to be so good at hiding her true feelings from even Madoka, her closest friend, always putting on a mask to protect herself from the friends she should had trusted. Seconds passed. Her heart rate had returned to normal. She regulated her breathing just to make sure. Her sweaty palms ran across the wall she was leaning against, a small action she used to reassure herself of her safety. And with her mind clear, she rolled her eyes back in the direction of the picture that had scarred her. It was no hallucination, and she was not having a flashback of guilt. That solved one problem, but it begged the obvious question regarding the reason the worst part of her life was put up for display in an art gallery. It had to be a joke, she told herself, perhaps a prank by the mischievous Homura. That would explain the presence she felt, a magical trail left by her actions. Being a prank, she would probably not care much for covering her trail. At least that was the rational explanation she was feeding herself to keep her from panicking. But something else was off; it was not just her who entered a state of shock after looking at the paintings. "This place is not good for our sanity. We need to leave." said the little girl named Ib, before she headed down the hall. The girl was right, despite being a lot younger than Sayaka. There had been a sick presence unlike anything she had encountered before ever since she entered this room, and it was getting on her nerves fast. She began to pace around the room again, shifting her gaze from side to side as she tried to put her finger on that one other thing that bothered her about this gallery. More paintings of historically popular characters throughout the ages adorned the unblemished white walls; Napoleon, Spider-Man, Rocky, Han Solo. In her mind, she pressed the question, "What exactly does Octavia have in common with them?" She frowned. It did not seem like much could be done with the situation at the moment, let alone done by herself. She was always a fighter, not a thinker. Though her heart told her not to trust anyone in the room, for her mind knew not whom was ally or foe, she had learned that no man is an island, and her self-isolation had caused her more harm than good in the past. "My name is Sayaka," she softly announced, her voice echoing through the room regardless of the volume she spoke with. With that, she began to follow the little girl down the hall; the least she should do was find out if this was a normal museum. That was, until pistol-boy decided to become trigger happy. "Everyone get behind me. I think I know how to make an exit. I can shield you from the blast if you're behind me, but if you're anywhere else there's no guarantees." Sayaka came to a sharp halt. As she glanced at the boy's actions without fully turning her head, she puffed out a heavy sigh. She felt like making a comparison between the boy and the stereotype of gun-totting males, but it seemed like it would be an insult to those gun-totting males.

Of course, Sayaka's thoughts would change completely soon. An immense amount of energy started to slowly build up in that one speck of dirt he was aiming at. It was enough energy to easily blow away anything within range of the blast. It was all the energy within the molecules of that little speck of dirt.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Al wondered to what this guy’s intent was, until he decided to show him what he meant. He was going to form an exit with his little thingamajig, but Alfonzo questioned why? It was a very nice place, unless he was in a rush to get somewhere, then it was understandable, but instead of trying to make a scene, couldn't he of tried instead to find a door somewhere? He announced for everyone to get behind him and away from the front so he could perform his magical exit, or whatever he was doing, so Al did what he was told. While he did, he started to glance around the place, seeing from a distance all the other images that he hasn't looked at yet, and also noticing that there was some windows accompanying the room as well. “Uh, you know” said Alfonso, speaking to everyone, anyone, and everything who was listening, “a window could also be used as an exit, although it looks really dark outside, you could use that since you don’t wanna try to find an actual doorway.”

Rather than dig an underground exit or climb through the window like a burglar, Sayaka felt that the more sensible option was to find the main entrance of this building, which would allow her to get a better clue of her exact location anyway. Though the painting depicting her life did give her a bit of a scare, she had not seen any hard evidence that proved she was not still on Earth. Now that she thought about it, giant robots and talking animals did not really seem that surreal compared to the stuff she had seen, entropy-solving space ferrets being one example. Sayaka continued to fix her sideway glare on pistol-boy for a couple more moments, but she steeled herself to disregard her moral obligations for now in hope that he would not do anything foolish to harm anyone; she needed to check this place out.

Tatsuya glanced back at Alfonzo. "I already checked. I didn't see any windows in this place, and finding a door would take too long. We're in serious danger here. I'm going to vaporize the wall so we can escape."

"Dont! We don't know what's on the other side. It could be just space out there, or there could be a monstrous creature," she warned, finally getting up.

Tatsuya stopped, looking at the girl who spoke. "What do you propose we do then? Walk around until we find an exit?" he asked, staying perfectly calm this entire time, as if he had no emotions.

"Yeah, well it's better than walking into something unknown," she explained. "Plus it might just lead to another room. Go ahead, take a shot, but I'm gonna be standing back."

Tatsuya sighed. "Fine. I'll use Mist Dispersion instead of Material Burst." He put away his Tridents, and then, using only two fingers, slashed at the wall, which would cut a hole in the wall using his Decomposition, effectively turning the area he wanted to make a hole at be vaporized into the individual molecules and atoms.

Ib turned away from the hallway she was looking into as one of the others walked past her only to pause and turn back as one of the males started warning people to get back. Ib returned to the group, agreeing with the idea of staying back. She wondered if the wall would even be broken. She had a feeling if this place didn't want them to leave them they wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. She stayed a relative safe distance away from the boy with the guns, questioning his decision. "If this place doesn't want us to leave then we won't be going anywhere. Trust me on this, this isn't first time I've been trapped in a place like this." She warned him though she didn't belief he would listen.

Sayaka paid heed to the wise words of the little girl. What she described reminded Sayaka of the witch barriers she had known of, an otherworldly dimensional space witches would use to conceal themselves. Whether if this place was related to what she had been fighting or not, she was quite sure that she was not dreaming, and she certainly didn't remember paying a visit to a museum full of eccentric beings as part of the morning schedule either. So it was either that someone had put her and perhaps these individuals as well under an illusion spell, or it was as that little girl had implied, that they were all trapped in a supernatural reality space, incapable of leaving unless the host of this little gathering was dealt with. She huffed a little sigh, annoyed that things had became trickier than walking out a door and heading home. The more she was convinced that Homura was not responsible for this, the more frustrated she became. She had her own crisis to deal with at home, and now she was expected to drop the responsibility of handling said crisis to have a vacation in some otherworldly dimension. She grinded her teeth upon that thought. "What's going to happen to Madoka and the others? I can't stay here..."