A man in a khaki trenchcoat remained silent as he sat still in the café, staring at his phone. His attention, however, lay in a particular maid that stood close by. A horde of men hidden from the naked eye waited patiently, preparing to storm a building to claim a particular Esper. A lottery pick out of two Espers, to be exact, as they originally wanted two, but one did not seem useful to the ever-growing society of mystery. A society without rules, so to speak. The man suddenly stood up and turned slowly. His feet carried him over to the exposed maid, his eyes dead set on the prize. Walking straight up to her, he reached for something in his undercoat pocket. With a chloroform-dipped napkin in his hand, he suddenly reached out and put the chemically modified cloth, pulling Kotori away as he grabbed her hands to severely limit her movements. At that moment, the door burst open, knocking the rectangular object down on the ground as a bunch of men poured into the café. . . [center][h1][b][color=ed1c24]“EVERYBOOOOOOODY PANIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!!!!!!!”[/color][/b][/h1] A Clown screamed as he pointed what appeared to be an assault rifle at a group of people.[/center] . . [u][b]The Clowns had arrived.[/b][/u] Grab more materials, get money; have fun. The ways of these anarchists remain mysterious to even the most careful of psychoanalysts, as there was no complete explanation as to how so many people were driven into a state of hysteria and greed. The Clowns that entered the café ranged from men wearing yellow smiley masks to men wearing blue smiley masks. The Smileys; they were regular Clowns, and one of the most common ones. Rumors claimed that they were responsible for causing the disappearances of many civilians while expanding their numbers rapidly. No one knew how powerful they were except for the people who survived an encounter with these particular men. A few Skinheads crashed through the window. These men wore the flesh of other human beings, using them to mask their bodies… from head to toe. They loved rotten things alike. Most of the Skinheads were extreme necrophiliacs. The Skinheads were infamous among thugs and mafias, as they rivaled even the Yakuza when it came to accessibility and flexible knowledge of their surroundings- including the powers of Espers. As the Clown who caught Kotori ran out of the café with her body, the Clowns began to command everyone into a single corner. Some of them wielded baseball bats with nails pierced into them, some wielded machetes. Some of them, however, held onto small firearms, while the minority of the Clowns carried heavy firearms such as assault rifles. One of the Clowns carried a strange pistol with blue liquid able to seen through a transparent ammunition cartridge. Bang blinked as he found a shotgun pointed directly at his face. [i][color=82ca9d]Mom,[/color][/i] he thought as he slowly stood up with his hands raised, [i][color=82ca9d]something cool happened today. I had a shotgun pointed at my face- and now my stuff is getting taken.[/color][/i] True to his word, the Clowns began taking the personal belongings of the people within Mocha Dreams. Most of the Clowns carrying firearms stormed into the storage room, though some of them remained by the windows just to make sure that the government authorities did not feel free in sending some Espers or Anti-Skills. They did plan on getting rid of the amount of hostages they had should someone outside interrupt them… that was, unless they noticed that their ranks were being reduced. With the hostages now at the corner, the Clowns began shouting things at each other. They were apparently looking for something else other than the Esper, but they did not make it clear as to what they were exactly finding. “Don’t do anything strange,” the Blue Smiley Clown standing in front of the now-crouching hostages spoke with a tinge of excitement in his voice. “Actually, please do something strange. That’d make things lovely.” The fact that he carried an activated chainsaw did not make him look any better to the hostages. The Clowns positioned near the windows remained extremely aware of outside of the building. No authorities such as the cops arrived yet. [hr] Meanwhile, the clown with Kotori ran into a dark alley. With the girl in his hands, he ran up to two other Clowns who stood next to a white van. [hider=Volt Baron][img]http://i.imgur.com/vJVx2vD.png[/img][/hider] [hider=White-Face (Vulzi’jiar)][img]http://i.imgur.com/fIBPM8x.png[/img][/hider] The Clown with the blue mask blinked at the sight of a pretty woman being carried over to the van. His white-masked comrade, on the other hand, simply sighed. “Send her to Underground No. MDCCC,” the Clown with the Esper said as he tossed her over to the blue-masked man. “Just get her there and you’re done.” “[color=6ecff6]…[i]Just[/i] get her there?[/color]” The Clown known as ‘Volt’ mumbled before shouting, “[color=6ecff6]Listen, how about [i]you[/i] drive? I’m really tired. I just got back from a heist not [i]too[/i] far from here, and I was pretty lucky that those authority guys noticed it by the time I left. You should be able to drive… and dodge bullets… and stuff. Right?[/color]” The Clown in the brown trench coat shook his head as he pointed at nowhere in particular with a lazy thumb. “Madmin’s got something for me apparently. I’m hoping it’s the long overdue stash that should have been given to me three months ago.” The blue-masked Clown put up a thoughtful look; a strange feature, considering he was part of the Clown faction. “[color=6ecff6]Fine,[/color]” Volt grumbled as he motioned for his comrade to get in the car. With the Clown who brought Kotori gone, Volt proceeded to open the right backdoor of the car and carefully placed her on the seat. He tied the girl’s hands up… though, the work was quite unprofessional and hastily done. After all, he decided that a frail girl like this one would probably remain affected by the anesthesia longer than the average person would. “[color=6ecff6]Get in the van, Vuvuzela,[/color]” the blue-masked man said as he ran over to the driver’s door. The white-masked man made an extremely annoyed grunt as he ran up to the other front seat. “You’re either going to call me Vulzi’jiar or White-Face,” White-Face growled as he took out a reflector gun; a particular weapon designed to reflect projectiles. It was a simple device that remained fairly unknown to the public due to its less-than intimidating size, but it would not fare well against rockets and the like. Volt shook his head as he revved up the engine. “[color=6ecff6]But I like vuvuzelas.[/color]” “God fucking dammit, Bolt.” “[color=6ecff6]It’s [b][i]VOLT![/i][/b][/color]” “[B][I]SHUT UP![/i][/b]” The van moved out of the dark alley, breaking out into the streets as quickly as possible.