@GreenGoat
@Krayzikk

The summer was in full swing within District 15. A modern metropolis within the greater metropolitan area that was Academy city, District 15 was known by many as the “Entertainment District” for its many upon many of attractions so see. From the sea of shops and malls and merchant stands to the theatre and arts, anything and everything and everything could be found in District 15, so long as you know the time and place.

Having been let off of her shift from work, Kyra was found in a place where she often goes when she is bored, a meager bookshop found within an alleyway. It was a godsend that she had found this place when she began to attend classes .After all, there was nothing greater to Kyra’s ranking than the embrace of a book. To her it mattered not the contents of the books she had read, and though she did have her preferences, she simply enjoyed the “act of reading” rather than the books themselves. After all, the pursuit of knowledge, both useful and pointless, was at the most pivotal position within the mind of Kyra.

There were three items that caught Kyra’s attention: A new book for a light novel series she had been keeping up on, a textbook on local fauna, and “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the latter of which was in Russian. Bringing up the goods to the elderly cashier, the two made small talk about how Kyra always comes around and how she enjoys her company, even though Kyra seemed mostly apathetic about the whole ordeal. Of course, there was comradery from the perspective of two enthusiasts, but Kyra tended to keep herself somewhat distant from others. Not exactly a cold person, but not the sort to directly look for interaction; a preference of the “self” was over the external.

Leaving the shop, Kyra took the brown paper bag the shopkeeper had placed the books in and started towards her dorm. Though this was a sort of Entertainment District, none of the shops within the area really interested Kyra. Though it was not as if she did not have friends, she never really considered those she was around as more than acquaintances. It was rare for her to spend more time with another than she would on her rather vast collection of literature she had within her dorm room; almost acting as if a rather solid library, though perhaps not at the same scale.

Kyra would have returned home.

She would have returned home and had read her books.

But therein existed an “oddity” within her view.

At first she did not believe what she was seeing, but it appeared that a colleague from work was currently being chased by a rather bulky looking woman. Of course ,this was a strange event of its own, but behind the two there appeared to be several people crowding around something she could hardly make out from the dimly lit streets of the area.

But that wasn’t her issue. If someone was getting ganged up upon by others, it was not like Kyra to simply sit back and watch. Kyra would not allow for someone she knew to be seemingly bullied by a group of Students. After all, that was something that just wasn’t right.
“Halt,” Kyra said in a rather plain tone towards the person chasing Harumi. It seemed less like a “statement” and more as if she intended it to be a demand, though she hardly emoted towards such an expression.

“I don’t exactly know who you are, but continue to bother Haru and we are going to have a problem, punk.”

@Krayzikk @NarayanK @HereComesTheSnow

Well, Umeko seemed to have that all in hand. The goofy gal with the bag of books in her hand was trying to put on a show by stopping his partner in her tracks like some common delinquent. It was almost enough to make him collapse belly laughing and roll all the way back across Academy City into his flat. Unfortunately, returning without Kawaguchi was impossible; she had an intense mistrust of him around her unopened Gunpla boxes, something about his avant-garde attempt to """"malign!!!"""" one of her Gundams by painting it pink. It wasn't as bad as all that.

He'd looked it up online first to make sure there was a pink variant, after all. Oh, excuse. Rouge variant.

Anyway, the point is, slipping away before the real guards showed was gonna be a bitch without his bitch, no offense intended. And Brennan had no desire to follow Umeko into the brier-bush of model citizens that she had become entangled in. So, bereft of other things to do, he pulled out his phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons.

"Ey, it's me. Yeah, nix da pizza oorder tonight. We went out for some sashimi instead."

Tonight was usually their Venus probe-and-pizza night. At the last minute, they'd decided to go out shopping instead - or rather, Brennan had decided, and Umeko had been bribed by plastic robot ogling.

Brennan angled his head over his shoulder and looked at the mangled body, neck tensing in a playful cringe as he muttered a low "eww-www-wwww" and turned away from it again, focusing his eyes on the distant form of his toku gal.

"Aye, sashimi 'n' shopping. We'll be on track fer next week. I'll letcha know, yeah? Toodaloo mothafucka."

The phone call was over almost as quickly as it had begun, a mindless update Brennan did to pass the time and avoid any weirdo misunderstandings later.

Wouldn't be right to have a pizza show up to the house when they were full on sashimi after all.

Brennan's stare turned from Umeko's ass to the body again, lips slowly pursing in thought.

"Oh my God!" Came a cry as Taro Tanaka joined the growing group of gawkers. Someone was dead! Many people who knew Taro would have expected this to be the moment he tried to make something "unique" out of this, or find some way to become the center of attention. But even Taro wouldn't sink that low. Someone was DEAD! This situation demanded seriousness and gravitas. It would not do to swan about trying to satiate one's own agenda like some form of baseborn ghoul. SOMEONE WAS DEAD!

On the note of someone being dead, Taro couldn't help but notice that few people were focusing on the fact that someone was dead. Somebody was calling Anti-Skill, but a lot of the others seemed all too concerned with some girl and her camera. Did they somehow fail to notice that someone was dead? "What are you people doing?" He called out. "Someone is dead! We all need to focus on what's important here! Someone is DEAD!" If it was not already obvious, Taro was having a bit of a meltdown over the fact that someone was dead. He was also painfully oblivious to the fact he was doing nothing productive and instead simply freaking out over the fact that someone was dead.

Hazama, Harumi

---

The sight of the much larger girl running after her did little to soothe her beating heart, with her shouting only serving to make Harumi even more desperate to get away. Indeed her words did not reach Harumi through her fears, only the fact that she was shouting.

It seemed her heart was drumming in her ears as she saw a figure in the distance, one she was familiar with. A fellow worker, and cafe part timer, someone who was Level 4. Someone with ability far beyond her own. Someone who was offering to help. A divine intervention in Harumi's eyes, and something she wasn't about to waste.

"P...please help!" Was all she could utter, as she sped past the girl.

Harumi wasn't about to stop running soon, not with that woman pursuing her, and certainly not until she reached safety.

Punk? These stupid kids.

"Your friend is fleeing a crime!" Umeko shouted, otherwise ignoring the uppity midget entirely. If she felt like causing a scene, that was her prerogative. But Midget #1 wasn't stopping, so she picked up the pace. If the other one didn't try anything funny she'd overtake in a few moments, then she could pick her up by the scruff of the neck and bring her right back to where she needed to be.

If the other one did cause a fuss, well, there was a solution to that too. Plus she had a name to go with the photographer's description, thanks to Midget #2.

Brennan was probably amused by all of this.

The jackass.

I'm sorry Exia... Soon...

@NarayanK@HereComesTheSnow@banjoanjo@GreenGoat@ADamnFiddle@Avant@Etranger@Plank Sinatra@Krayzikk

Night, School District 15

There was a tiny hiss of static through the speaker of Bang's flip-phone, accompanied by what sounded like something being shuffled around on the other end of the line. Another second of pause was what followed (with the operator giving an apologetic "please wait" before the brief interlude), but there was no extended wait for the young man, as the slight voice returned as soon as it had disappeared, this time with firm confidence.

"Antiskill is enroute," she said. "Don't tamper with the scene. If a suspect's around, don't engage. Keep clear and be careful. Stay safe."

An eruption of sound.

This time, on Bang's end of the call.

The air crackled and thundered with heat and noise and force as it exploded.

---

Not that too long ago, Night, School District 15, Nearby Rooftop

It was unprofessional. In every sense of the word, the conduct and approach of what had been undertaken was undeniably and utterly unprofessional. For somebody who supposedly prided themselves on subtlety, there was absolutely none to be found in their handling of the unfortunate situation that had been left to him to clean up. What an undignified scene it was; from his vantage point on the chilly rooftop of a two storey building opposite, illuminated only by the dull glow of the lampposts on the street below and the lights of nearby windows, he could see very clearly how much of a mess the disposal had become.

The proper methods had not been observed. And knowing that, there was a failure to rectify that mistake.

Unacceptable.

A body openly left on the street to rot. It would draw undue attention. Too much attention. Attention that would get in the way of everything they were trying to do. Attention that, from the growing size of the crowd in front of that aging building and the growing size of the dread in his stomach, was already beginning to intensify. There was no way to avoid it. Nothing he could do by himself could stop it.

"I think we have to 'cut our losses'," noted a voice in his ear. Dhṛtarāṣṭra was speaking. His comrade was beside him, watching the street and people and the scene of the body. "That is the English expression, yes, no?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. He did not know English expressions. He did not know English at all.

The other male pointed towards the figure of a young man with a flip-phone in hand. "That call is prolly for Antiskill," explained Dhṛtarāṣṭra, thumb stretched upwards in the facsimile of a finger gun. "They will get leads 'like cat on mice', easy. There is no way we can sneakily put a stop to that."

"And?"

"We need to give up the secrecy. We simply cannot have success without blowing it out into the open. So, we have to 'cut our losses', right?"

There were loud outbursts from the small assembled group on the street below. They were either arguing or expressing shock over the body's discovery, depending on whichever one of them was speaking. It did not particularly matter to him. However, it was giving him more time to hear out the plan Dhṛtarāṣṭra was likely to bring out.

"What will you do?"

The response was marked by a jocund smile. "Blow myself out into the open," said the boy casually, jovially, outstretched pointer finger shifting, the tip seemingly aimed in a direct line towards the phone. "I should make a distraction, you see? While they focus on me, you can go invisible and jump down, run for the body to nab it. This is called 'taking one for the team'."

"That is risky."

"No need to worry, I have this 'in the bag'. Antiskill chasing after me is the best we can get from this bad situation, so you go straight for the cleanup while I play distraction."

A second of thought. There were no better options.

It did not mean he liked the plan.

He nodded. His body shimmered away from view, the twisting and turning of light disappearing him from sight.

"Good luck."

"No need for thanks."

He went for the emergency stairs as quickly as possible. Behind him, Dhṛtarāṣṭra stood tall, stood visible, on the edge of that rooftop.

"Catalyse," whispered his comrade.

His feet rapidly clanged against the steel steps, and halfway down he jumped down.

There was no elegance to his movements.

There was no need, for there was an immense explosion of air localised around the caller.

A distraction, to be precise.

Bang nodded as he slightly lowered the phone, glancing at the people hanging around the scene. Some of them had gone off to chase after the girl who ran-

Oh, she ran.

He hoped nobody would get hurt. If anything, things seemed to have settled down and everyone was getting things under control. There didn’t seem to be anything that’d suddenly pop up and-

Suddenly, a loud noise almost deafened his ears at point-blank range. His phone was knocked out of his hand as his body was propelled straight past the group at magnum force.

Time slowed down as he thought,

I don’t think this is my body responding to a mosquito passing by-

Crashing on the ground, Bang tumbled almost infinitely as his phone snapped in half, the upper half of phone flying and shattering one of the old office building’s lower floor windows. He felt his head slam against the ground and his limbs wildly flailing about until he stopped rolling.

Cringing, Bang winced as he attempted to get up, only to cough and remain on the ground. He was surprised his neck didn’t snap, but his body hurt.

It hurt quite a bit. The heat that also suddenly flared near his cheek hurt as well, though it paled in comparison to jumping on a bunch of Lego face-first. Nothing hurt more than your friend placing Lego on literally every solid surface in your house.

The skies remained in his vision as he took unsteady breaths in an attempt to make them steady again. His ears rung louder than ants choking on a blender, and he felt dizzy.

Umeko hated being right sometimes.

That wasn’t something she’d ever mention to her partner-in-crime, because he’d parrot it at her whenever they argued. And it usually wasn’t actually about being right. Being right was good. Being right was satisfying. The problem came when the thing she was right about backfired horribly. Sometimes with a small explosion.

There was an explosion this time, but it wasn’t her fault. And it wasn’t very small. Somehow had been hanging around, just like she thought. Someone who committed the crime, maybe, or someone with them. Explosions wouldn’t have caused the injuries on the poor woman, so if Umeko had to bet she wouldn’t have blamed the same person. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that someone hostile was around, and she was headed the wrong way. Camera girl was forgotten immediately, District 32’s resident skidding to a stop on the pavement. A voice complained that these were nice boots that the pavement had just abraded. That voice was muffled, buried behind the overwhelming impulses taking root.

The hostile entity was behind her.

And it had fired in Griese’s general direction.

She hurtled back the way she had come, sprinting without regard for duration. Antiskill’s reaction time would be measured in minutes, and by then whatever was about to happen already would have. Standard advice would be to wait for the professionals. Fuck that. She could see one person on the ground already, the guy who had placed the call. He moved, so he was still alive, but that was all Umeko could tell. These guys were playing for keeps. It was obvious no one was on the ground with them, which meant- up. Top of the building. Two stories up, hostile son of a bitch spotted.

In the span of a millisecond, her plan was decided. And Kawaguchi Umeko growled.

Her course altered just a few degrees, feet pounding the pavement even harder; but no matter how hard they hit, she made not a whisper; a stark contrast to the extreme, frenetic nature of her pace. After a few moments her foot came down hard, pushing off of the ground and into the air.

Both feet came down on the dumpster, and shoved off harder.

Umeko rocketed into the air, high enough to catch the edge of the roof with her palms and turn her remaining forward momentum into a somersault. She felt her reservoir dip, more than she usually liked to use but today was a very special case. A rotation later and she had ditched enough momentum to pop onto her feet, starting to close the distance between her and Son of a Bitch #1 at a jog. She’d hit the roof to his side; if he was paying as much attention to the scene as she thought, she’d have a few moments before he even realized she was on the roof. Helped that her esper ability ensured she made as much noise as a ghost.

He wasn’t far. In hand to hand, Kawaguchi was confident.

Hey there, asshole~!

GEORGE ELLINGTON

---

George felt some responsibility for the fake out this whole night turned out to be.

Maybe if he hadn’t been bashing Purp’s ears so hard, the ‘razzi doll wouldn’t’ve wriggled outta his mitts. The ‘beatnik’ watched in gobsmacked dismay as the other arrival, some brickhouse brunette, popped the clutch and tore ass after the photographer. Well, George might’ve been a total fat-head in a fight but if it was a chase that needed to be run, he was your guy. He’d have to go hard after this false start though. With a crouch of his long legs, he felt his power swell around him, and he took off with an explosive leap.

Speaking of ‘explosive’…

The ear-smashing bang caught the group as soon as his feet left the ground. The edge of the Hot Box dug painfully into his back. There was no time to react, no time to revert. Gravity still borderline eradicated, the kinetic force of the blast threw the boy upwards and outwards, his terrified screech thankfully masked by the noise of the explosion as he ascended past the skyline.

Taro was upset with failing to get people's attention at the best of times, but now everyone was ignoring him mention that somebody was dead. Didn't any of these people want to focus on somebody that was dead, rather than chasing each other around and getting mad at each other? Eventually, it seemed their attention would be forced to focus on something more important, as an explosion erupted in their vicinity. The poor man that had actually been trying to make a call and do something about the dead person had born the brunt of it. Taro's heart went out to him, but there were more important matters at hand.

One of the others, fittingly one of the ones fixated on chasing others around, immediately rocketed off in pursuit of the apparent culprit. Them being attacked while standing around someone that was dead could only mean one thing; the individual attacking them must be involved in the crime. Taro leapt into action alongside the others, and while he could not preform flying leaps across the city, he could certainly hurl objects over a significant distance. Acting fast, he used his powers to tear free a piece of metal railing from a nearby building and hurl it in the direction of the culprit. With luck, even if he couldn't land a hit, he could give them pause enough for the others to bring him down. At such an important time such as this, no heed could be given to ensuring he dispatched his foe in a unique and befitting fashion...unless he could do so easily.

@Crimmy

Fortunate to be further away from Bang and the explosion than others, having preferred to keep her distance from the group, Junia was still knocked down by the force of it. She recovered quite nicely, but now it was personal. She wouldn't have cared if it had just been Bang that had gotten hurt or anybody else, but this man had caught her up in this as a piece of collateral damage. She had no idea what his intentions were, but she certainly wasn't going to let him get anyway near the obvious objective of the corpse. From her position in the group, she decided to lob a few gobs of Dacia-12 in his direction. She couldn't care less what he wanted, this was a matter of settling herself coming to harm.

---

A young girl found herself walking the streets of District 15 at a much later time and fouler mood than she had expected. Being the seemingly only person in the entire populace of two million who both still bought physical album CDs and also wanted her particular brand of headphones, she had forgone any stops at "lesser" music stores and gone straight to her favorite. Being from District 18 currently, that meant a walk of the entire Seventh and much of the Fifteenth one-way. She'd had to make her trip today instead of her normal bi-weekly trip now that her favorite headphones had finally played their last. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but a chance purchase the week prior had left her with no money, and by extension no quick-fix, until now with which to replace her failing comrade. Her trusty backup, Gekota, managed to get her halfway there before its cord finally frayed too much and static filled her ears. The already annoyed girl's mood only worsened with each passing second until she had finally arrived, only for her to find that not only were they out of stock for a replacement, not only did the shop not have the new album she'd been waiting months for despite being released just yesterday, but even her usual backup, the thing she had the most trust in at most given moments, even Gekota headphones were missing from the store.

Wandering the street rather aimlessly as the cheapest earbuds she could find played her normally sanity-maintaining music at a level a rat with a torn throat could mimic, her agitation only breeding further agitation as she slowly lost the finer points of her ability to keep away the heat, one could argue that she was at this point a danger to herself and others. She quickly passed by the commotion she could hear from a nearby alley in her eagerness to go home and dissociate until the unmistakable sound of an explosion came from it. That was the breaking point. Throwing all caution and sense to the wind, where it belongs, she turned on her heel and ran towards the noise, hoping for all the world that she'd find herself waking in a hospital bed so she could forget about today.

She soon found herself next to a surprisingly large group of people, considering the circumstances, though her attention quickly focused on a young man who appeared to be injured near her feet.

Shinjiro Karasawa

"Oh look, now you scared her even worse than I did—"

Before Karasawa and the Beatnik could have reached a proper compromise, it had been proven to be as inevitable an impossibility as their respective hometowns acknowledging the worth of the others' pizza. Their snagged shot-taker had scurried speedily streetbound since their shouting had sufficiently sidetracked them, leaving the louts at a loss, looking laughably like losers.

This bit sucks.

However, what sucked worse was the immediate aftermath of the event, in which, before Karasawa had time to round on Beatnik or anyone else, boxer boy's phone had, for lack of a better term blown right fuck up in their faces.

All of their faces.

"ジイザス・クライスト！"

Ass hit grass, and the purple-haired esper's vision became stars. What the hell? A bomb?

His head was swimming. It would be a few minutes, even with how worryingly experienced he was at having his bell rung, to be back at full speed, but there was one thing that was already taking root.

You gotta be bustin' my balls, motherfucker.

Gradually, one could feel the temperature began to rise.

@HereComesTheSnow@banjoanjo@GreenGoat@NarayanK@ADamnFiddle@Avant@Etranger@Plank Sinatra@Krayzikk@DarkwolfX37

Dhṛtarāṣṭra - Night, School District 15, Nearby Rooftop

The secrecy of their cause was indeed 'shot to hell'. But even if there was no way to sneakily snatch the snitch away from the crowd, he still should not lose help. It was not, if his English idiomatic language was 'on point', a situation that had become 'FUBAR'. There was still time to nab a victory, you see? Dhṛtarāṣṭra was not too worried. If the distraction got everyone to focus on him instead of the dead woman, then the connection from the body would be 'out of their hands', easy.

His explosion was the very example of 'bang for his buck', right? The people of the crowd were all laid low or coming right for him, so his trying to 'take one for the team' had been a success. For the goal of his friend, he had 'gotten them off his back', so there were no groundbound steel railings. There was an airbound steel railing flung his way, and if it hit him, he might end up like a 'shish-kebab'. That wasn't good. So he needed to get rid of it, right?

Dhṛtarāṣṭra pointed as fast as he could, fingers pretending to be a gun.

This was a situation where he needed to 'think fast'.

"Catalyse."

Where there was once a piece of railing was now many pieces of brown-orange metal. They were like flakes, moving fast (but slowing down at an intense rate) at him but falling right apart mid-journey and losing altitude before his very eyes. Something like a speedy steel stake would kill Dhṛtarāṣṭra, but if it was a decelerating clumpy cloud of coppery chunks, then he could get right out of the way, yes? And give him time to see the blob of pink coming at him.

He simply had zero clue on what it was, so there was a need to worry here.

Dhṛtarāṣṭra was 'taking one for the team', but that was no reason to be 'blindsided' by a fist of pink he knew not of.

There was a simple solution: 'skedaddle'.

But running 'at full blast' ran itself into an obstacle.

It was a Japanese girl, and she and her toned legs had managed to silently jump all the way onto the rooftop with him. That was 'completely out of the blue', just like her vest. This was a big worry. Her Esper power was sneakier than he thought it could be, you know? Dhṛtarāṣṭra tried not to panic, but there was very little time. He needed to think even faster.

What could he make use of right now?

Floor is ... stone? It is not too thick, hopefully? Yes, that is simple then, right?

"Catalyse!"

Before they could react, and before the pink blob of something could strike him, the ground beneath him and the physically-endowed Japanese girl crumbled into a mass of dust. Both of them immediately fell in.

The pink blob flew past his head as he 'took a dive'.

---

Gandharva - Night, School District 15, The Street

The plan was an inelegant one. Yet despite how bereft it was in any dignity and subtlety, it was the best option available to them. It was an option he found distasteful. However, the explosion of heat and air around the unfortunate soul with the mobile device had been successful in serving as a distraction. A distraction that had stunned the crowd and drawn the attention of some individuals. Attention that, with Dhṛtarāṣṭra having incited the some of the crowd in front of that aging building into action, could no longer be directed towards him.

Thus, they did not notice his descent into the chilly night from the rooftop, nor were they aware of the pounding of his footsteps as he darted across the black tarmac, sounds drowned out by the ringing aftermath of the blast. He had discarded decorum for alacrity. In order to contrive a competent solution to the conundrum foisted upon them by that unprofessional, unsubtle individual, there was a need to act as quickly as possible. As suddenly as possible. He clamped down on the quiet dread within the confines of his stomach, his senses focused entirely on that body, likely to be the least of the crowd's worries after his comrade's shocking intrusion.

Under the dull illuminance of the lampposts, his body could not be seen. He was invisible to the naked eye, the shimmering layer distorting light to leave no sign of his presence. Only sound, drowned out by the chaos around them, emanated from his footsteps. The footsteps drawing him closer to the body.

He ignored the crowd. They did no matter in any form to him.

The body was what he sought. A mistake borne from the actions of another. The cornerstone of the unfortunate scene he had to rectify.

He darted past the boy with the phone, now prone from the blast. He ignored the rising heat from the indigo-haired individual, shaken by the sound. With his dignified strength and graceful dexterity, he scooped the corpse off the ground and threw it onto his shoulder, light shifting around them to make the body disappear as well.

It was not at all elegant.

However, Gandharva had no other choice.

That was why he had begun his escape down the street.

Hazama, Harumi

---

She did not stop running until she had reached a good ways into the next district. By now it felt as if every breath drew barbed wires into her lungs, every inch of her muscles burning, every single joint in her body scraping against each other.

Collapsing to her knees, Harumi did not have the strength left to resist what was to come, and upheaved the contents of her stomach upon the ground. Was it her body protesting such a burst of activity from a cold start? Or was it a delayed reaction towards finding a corpse in the city? She did not know. It might very well be a combination of both. She knew only that she was retching for a few minutes after, unable to stop the involuntary reaction.

Finally done, she stood up shakily on her feet, thankful that the park was empty. She would die of embarrassment if anyone she knew saw her right now. Taking in a deep breath, she started the walk back home, towards her dormitory, feeling utterly sore, exhilarated and afraid all at once. Harumi was thrilled to have such a story, but less thrilled at what it was, what it implied, and what that meant for her.

At least she didn't have to try and fight someone with a higher level than her today. But, she might have to treat her colleague to something later on, especially if that explosion was something to go about.

What the fuck.

It was bad luck she'd been noticed, her foe'd turned to flee and spotted her. Otherwise she'd have had him. But as surprising as she'd been to him, the concrete beneath her feet turning to dust was completely out of left field. One second it was there, solid as can be, and the next her foot hit open air. Not long to process at all, so instinct took over; she only had a few moments before hitting the floor below, she needed to mitigate. The dust did some of that for her, the thick layer that accumulated below her serving to deaden some of the initial impact. Didn't feel great, falling a story, but she knew how to land. She let her knees bend to absorb most of the remaining energy, and stopped her forward motion by letting her closed fist hit the ground. The impact jarred all the way up to her shoulder, but her knuckles were okay. That was what her gloves were meant to mitigate, after all.

Her surroundings were dark, Umeko'd landed in an office. Along with her adversary. She didn't know the layout, but hopefully he didn't either. He had been closer to the edge of the roof so she had him against a wall for now. She needed to push before he could capitalize on the change of scenery. The attacker had been built more like a runner, lithe instead of bulky, so he'd probably be fast if she let him get away. Not going to happen. Keep him away from the exits. Whoever he was, he was in league with whoever'd killed that woman. Hesitating could get her killed. This was a fight for real. No playing fair.

So as soon as she landed, she took a fistful of the dust below her hand and hurled it at the man's eyes. She stepped in quick as lightning, keeping her center of gravity low, and threw a left jab at her adversary's ribs. He'd tried to flee when she neared, Umeko was willing to bet he wasn't much of a close range fighter. His Esper ability was a wild card; a reaction of some kind, probably exothermic. Corrosion? Wouldn't explain the explosion. But either way, she just needed to keep up the pressure; stay in close, keep him on the back foot. She could do that.

With any luck her jab would connect, but if it didn't her guard was still up. She'd work from there.

"I wanted to be working on my Exia, asshole!"

Brennan Griese had screamed out in fury as the blast overtook most of the collected group of students.

"THAT!"

"WAS!"

"ME!"

"FOOKIN'!"

"̶̡͎̲̻̼͎͈̱̭͚̺ͦ̿̀̒ͤ͌͌͛ͅṮ̷̨̠̻̯̥͖͔̺̱̘̯̳̤̓̋̑̆ͧͫ̆ͦ̃͆ͤ͜͞A̧̭̭͔͓͇̥̬͚̯̿͗̂ͩ̊̎ͮ̌͆̇ͨ͂̄̅͠ͅA̱̩̠̓͆̄͑ͪ̌͗̄̽̓̈́͌̐̆̀͢͟͠Å̼͎̼̤̥̪̺͍͖͍̦ͮ̓ͧ̑͐ͯ͊̓̑̂͘͢A̡̛̩͙̹̣͍̼̦̘̦͒͒̇͑̀A̵̢̤̤̘̱̲̗̪͉͓͕͓̹͔̜̫͈̥ͦ̎̌̋̂͛͒̾͊̒ͧ́̍͟͜ͅA̵̧̛̦̥̮̰͚̼̖̻̭͙̤͕̼̹̣͔̭͋̂̍͂ͯ̾̾̑ͤ͊̚͟A̧̛̯̤͙̳̖͖̬͍͙̲̹̳̤̺ͫͧͯͬ̀̕͝ͅA̴͉̗̹̙͖̯̯͚̲̺͚ͦ͊͛ͧ̿ͮͬ͑ͤ͑ͤ͛ͧͯ͂ͯ͆̀K̵̸̨̖͙͔͈̟̼̳͓̭̆̂̄̓͠ͅEͭͯͦͮ̄͂̀͢͢͢҉̙̩̣̭̭͍̮̮̯͙͖̣O̷̴̪͉̤͙̘͎̝̭̝͉͙̪̥̟͔̥̜͍̓ͪ̉̊̈̑̈ͫ̈̇͐̄̊͡͡O̸̡͉̦̫̣̥̞̝̩ͫ̇͒̓͑̉̈́ͧͧͨͮ̔ͯ͘O̡͇͓̳̥̙͈̳̮͓̜͇͕͓̳͛̇̾̓̑͛͋͌ͥ̃̒̅̆͐ͤ͢O̸̩̯̹̜̣̮̦̣̭͕̖̺̘̰̻͔̣̖ͥͪͨ̄ͮ̆̂̾̆̓̔̑͂ͨ͜͠O̡̯͓̮͙͎͔̠̯̞͚͈͚̭̭̖̹̠̟̜ͨ̌͒̐́͜͞Ö̴͓̙̥͉̫̰̜̰̖͙̦͖́̆̍̏̿̑̄̑̕͜ͅͅƠ̵̛̰̤̬̝̘̫̼̲͔͚͎̱̤͚͖̖͖̙ͧ̔̈́ͩ̒̒͗͛ͧ̀̽͛̊ͭͧ̋̏ͦͅO̰̪̠̣̣͎̎ͣͪ̅͒̅̃̔ͥ̋͑̏͊͐̄͢͡O̵̧͇̭̻̬̫͙̻̜͎̗̰͕̻̦͉ͩ̀̍ͫͨ̌̾̍ͪͪ̑̌ͭ̃O̶̢̲̳̘͍̰͖̺̹̤͉͍̙͈̟̹̹̍̐͐ͫ̿ͥ̌̇ͧ͛̊ͭ͂͋͋ͧ́͝Ǫ̸̛́͐̓̉̎̄̌͌̋ͮͤ̏͑̚҉̙͈̗͎̲͙͕̗͍͓̤̟̝͞Ỏͧ͋̉̉́͘͏̩̩͉͍͕͚̯̥͈̜͉̮͙U̻̻͓̖̯̟̠̪̤͔̘̺̱̞͓ͧͭͯ̏̕̕͜T̢̯̬̝̳̭̙̠̖̏ͩ͛̂́͑̎ͮ̕͞ͅ!̴̷͖̪̙̩̭ͧͧ̂̓ͥ̽"͎̥͍̥̬͎̘̤̗̣̪͎̣̦͖̲̿̽̾̀͜͟͟͢͢ͅͅ

His food hung suspended in the air before him for a tantalizing second, as if a man of Brennan's caliber and wealth still had time to pluck it from the sky on its hopeless plunge. He wanted to scream louder. He wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh hysterically. Most importantly, he wanted Umeko to have to pay for the pizza that would be replacing their expensive dinner.

"THAT SASHIMI," shrieked the Irish boy, possessed with the all-consuming and thunderous rage of Zeus, "WAS DOLPHIN, YOU LIMP-DICKED COONT! YOU GUNNA PAY FOR DAT FOOKIN' DOLPHIN!?"

He wasn't Umeko, wasting dolphins wasn't exactly in his blood! There were only eight restaurants in Academy City that would even serve it to you, and all of them required the use of a fucking password! This had been his treat!

It wasn't even about the explosion or the corpse anymore, although the fact that this pussy thought such a mere little trick of the light was capable of throwing his nose from the strong scent of blood and pus was an insult all its own to the semi-lucid Armani predator. All but one of his senses had avoided being fooled, and even the ducking of the corpse thief under the bright neon of Academy City's nighttime lighting was noticeable to the trained eye. This was still worthy of being called a chase.

Nay, thought Brennan Griese. A brief flash of light - the advertisement on the side of one of Academy City's automated buses, running its route through the shopping district to pick up students living the nightlife - gave the heat shimmer a murky, amorphous outline that vaguely resembled a person slung over another.

Dis is a fookin' hoont.

"YOU'LL LIVE TO REGRET HAVIN' FOOKED WIT' ME, POOSY!" he screamed after the retreating figure, before he leaped out, spread-eagled, into the path of the bus.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH"

THUNK-kunk

The bus had come to a halt in the street, not having skidded to a halt so much as just frozen, robbed of inertia like a device suddenly drained of its battery power. The boy who had taken the suicidal leap of faith into the transport's path, however, didn't seem to be drained at all by the accident. If anything, he seemed unruffled mentally, even with the several thin trickles of blood on his face and a matted shirt and vest.

And, in the neon glow of the advertisements that reached to the stars, it was plain to see that his hair now had highlights.

Brennan Griese beamed, revealing bloody gums between his front teeth and his right incisor from his contact with the pavement, and began to run in the direction the shimmer had gone. Fast.

The dolphin sashimi lay near the puddle of blood left behind by the corpse, gone but not forgotten.

Junia rolled her eyes as their assailant disappear under a rooftop. As much as it angered her to see him escape her reach, a surge of lethargy overcame her at the thought of the gymnastics she would have to preform to chase in into whatever building he had just escaped into. Coupled with the fact that she was uncertain he would even be there by the time he arrived, she gave up on the prospect of melting him into a puddle. That girl that ended up in there with him could do the fighting. Or she could die. Junia couldn't care less either way.

What she did end up caring about was the bizarre antics of the guy with the ridiculous accent. As amusing as it was to watch him cavort about like a moron, it was more what his actions indicated towards that got her interest. He was screaming at someone, and unless he planned to take the extreme long way to them, it didn't seem to be the earlier cretin. Glancing closer, Junia briefly wondered if she did make out a shimmer of something, but she wasn't sure. Given they weren't under attack, it would stand to reason that any other interlopers had a different goal in mind. On a hunch, Junia quickly gazed in the direction their corpse should have been, and sure enough, it was gone. Someone had come to snatch their find from under their noses. "Oh no you don't..." Junia hissed to herself under her breath as she launched another glob in the vague direction the screaming moron was heading towards. This was a literal blind shot, but perhaps if Junia was lucky, she would land a hit on their fleeing target. She considered she might hit the corpse, but if they wanted it so badly, it might sting them to lose it.

Bang blinked, wondering what to do.

It wasn't often one was blasted away from an explosion at point blank.

He felt his ears ringing, and his body felt like it was burning. What didn't go through his mind was how he was still in one piece despite everything that hurt his body.

He tried moving his right hand. Nope, it felt awful to move. Acknowledging that, he tried moving his left hand. It twitched and moved just a bit.

It wasn't hard to make him realize that he was pretty much helpless. From his slightly blurred vision, he could tell that something was going on nearby, though he realized that it'd be bad if he paid attention to anything aside from his body at the moment.

Wincing, he managed to quietly mutter "Help" as he continued remaining still. If he tried moving at this very moment, there could be a chance of hurting himself so much more. He doubted anybody could hear him, considering how even he himself couldn't hear himself either.

And he prayed to dear God that he didn't leave his oven running.