[@finalends]

[B]Drama Clubroom[/B]

With the greetings and farewells successfully dealt with, Lala Liu's next course of action was, predictably, to survey the clubs that Uchima Senior High boasted. Given the time, a well-worn Friday afternoon, many students were enjoying their time amongst their peers, working towards achieving whatever the goal of their respective clubs' mission statements was. However, of all the places to visit first, Lala's choice - the drama club - was a massive exception to what was expected of these extracurricular activities. A noticeable exception, in fact.

The sight that greeted Lala was a mess. The drama club room looked as if a force of nature had torn through it. Streaks of black and charred walls were everywhere. Furniture and cheap equipment had been overturn. Drying fire extinguisher was scattered across the floor. Shattered glass littered the area. Electrical wiring from a spotlight was clearly visible. A puddle of drying, coagulating blood, was right next to her feet. The room was chaos personified. However, it seemed to have been far worse at a prior time.

This was more or less the aftermath of something that had torn through it.

One of the possible club members was, however, still nearby, sitting on a cardboard box in the centre of the room, a dour, despairing air hanging over him.
[hr][@Zobozun]

[B][URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsHoDndFkA0]Sasori and Co. Investigations[/url][/b]

"I did forget to introduce myself, didn't I?" mused the pink-haired young woman, her pleasant smile still aimed directly at Aiko. "I would love to tell you, but then, of course, I'd have to kill you."

She paused, expression immediately turning blank. The statement had emerged out of absolutely nowhere; had Hoshizora not commented on her desire to learn of the woman's name, then it would have been incredibly easy to classify those words as a non sequitur. However, there was still a miniscule relation between the topic of their conversation and the declaration. Even if it was utterly stupefying in its contents.

A number of seconds passed.

Her face reasserted itself into its more natural, relaxed form.

"That's a quote from 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'," she explained casually, as if she hadn't said anything at all. "He has Doyle's entire collection, so I decided to take a gander when our Internet got cut two weeks ago."