@DarkwolfX37@Crusader Lord@Williwaw@Duoya@ERode@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra

---

"Hey, do you really think Iguchi can still do the voice?"

"Of course she can! Don't tell me you've fallen for that stupid net rumour?"

"I'm just saying, those posts gotta have a bit of truth to 'em ..."

"This shindig is the bomb diggity."

"Word, brother. Kanacon is the rush."

"Security's beefed up since last year, if you know what I mean."

"Of course. It's only natural with the Orbital Portal Company representing themselves. Their executives are likely to have rented VIP suites and thus have the same treatment. And that their partnership with Kanamin may be to attract more angel investors. I personally think that it's a great business-"

"Shush. I meant security's beefed up. Look, isn't that man in black just a snack?"

"...I could create a Gekota AI to help manage your devices, if you so wish."

"What's the catch?"

"Sorry I'm late! Got caught in the elevators."

"Sheesh, those are still buggy? Well, at least you're here. No way was I gonna line up at the booths to buy you a recording if you couldn't come."

"But you'd line up for limited edition Kanamin costumes?"

"Duh, I love Kanamin more than you."

"It's weird seeing myself reflected all the way over there."

"That's the Dianoid for ya. Can see everywhere with that camera magickery."

"Wow, do you think security can see me waving?"

The answer to that last question was a "no", although there was somebody above the stage who could see the waving on camera. Of course, that somebody wasn't security, nor was she particularly interested in the chatter blasting through the speakers. The thoughts and opinions of those attending that Iguchi woman's concert were utterly irrelevant to her; for what reason would she want to listen to those fans?

No, the field of Kanamin stans beneath the concert security booth wasn't important at all. The important part was making sure that her vengeance could be wrought upon those who had dared to wrong her. The stage would not be that Iguchi woman's today; it would be hers, and thus her victory would arrive before even the setting of the sun.

She stood up from the unconscious body of an actual security guard, slipping his ID out from his pocket and into her scarred hands. He would not wake for quite a time, but for the sake of her revenge, she could not allow any concern for his wage slave career. Today, only she had power over her destiny.

Only she, through the card, had power over the cameras.

Only she, through the card, had power over the stage.

Only she, through the card, had power of the lives of all the concert-goers, and even that Iguchi woman: Kanamin herself.

The dim red glow of the console turned green. Access had been granted to her. The wicked smile she wore only grew at the beautiful sight. After the struggles she had faced to even place herself in a condition where the concert was her plaything, triumphing so easily over such a barrier was soothing for her soul.

Her fingers danced across the keys.

Sirens blared within the concert hall as the doors began to rapidly slam shut. They were too be trapped in here, in the hall.

And with her.

"Friends of Iguchi!" her voice rang out. "Do not panic! Your lives will be safe as long as you listen to what I have to say!"

Everything was going to plan.

And nothing was allowed to interfere.

---

Kyuuichiro Idemitsu was a man of few expressions. The rather blase manner with which he conducted his business with the two teenagers was testament to that. Despite the email addresses given to him by Aya being filled with the quintessence expected of a "middle schooler" (see: somebody who still purchases Smiggle^TM. products), and though Haruma appeared to be wishing to be anywhere but in front of a Orbit Portal Company representative, the one known as Mr Idemitsu was really just focusing on getting his job done.

The teenagers wanted to invest, so he would help them.

"There is no problem," he replied.

He wasn't someone who let things like teenage quirks interfere with his job.

It usually took something bigger than that to get his attention, and that something would be the lights flickering off, plunging the entirety of Kanacon into darkness.

"What was that?"

In one moment, she was picking herself off the ground. In the next, sirens were blaring, the lights were being cut off, and shit, she had to move! Throwing away all semblance of common courtesy, Yu-Ri activated the flashlight app on her phone and pushed through the crowds of the central stage, jostling aside those still too confused to do anything else but murmur or turn around. Securing a spot for herself against the wall so that she wouldn’t be in the middle of the crowd when panic eventually settled, the young girl climbed up onto a chair and swept through the masses of people in the darkened floor.

Tall, dark, and doubtlessly surrounded by his own security right now, a sanctuary of methodical movement within a crowd of confused Kanacon attendees. If there was any chance of finding her target, this was one of the best ones.

…

Wow, she must be pretty fucked up if she was thinking of her job even during what may straight up be a terrorist attack, huh?

Beppu Aya
Kanacon
@Duoya @Crimmy

---

Aya spun around on her heels as she swore she heard Haruto say something. The girl wasn't sure what the boy was wanting to ask for, but she felt it would be right to address him. "Whatcha-" eagerly chirped out, tilting her head and waving her arm around. However her inquiry was interrupted by the mysterious fact causing the generator that controlled the lighting to go out! Aya blinked for a moment and waited to see if any emergency lights would turn on, or a back-up generator would go on. However she soon was bored of that and so she took out her cell-phone and utilized the flash-light! Truly modern technology was great; she didn't have to carry a bulky flash light around, because she could use her phone.

Carefully using the phone to navigate a path, by which it was mostly still stumbling around in mostly darkness, Aya took a few steps before shining the light a bit towards her. "Uh... like iunno what caused the whole blackout thingy, I'mma blame Hans Gruber until otherwise! Because this is something he'd do! Attacking a corporation during a special event!" Aya shook her head and dramatically, even though there was little point as people could probably not see her, flung out her arm before slamming her thumb against her chest.

"I, Aya Beppu, shall save the day! Probably! Maybe! I'll give it my best shot!" declared the high school student before letting a beat pass. "CAUSE LIKE, I HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO RIGHT NOW!"

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra
Kanacon, the twisted nexus of greed and lust, was rapidly rising at a record rate to the upper rungs of what his comrade would have foully described in limited English as a 'shitlist'. The very fact that he had been conscripted into volunteering as a grunt worker already granted the convention immortality as one of his greatest indignities, but with every passing moment, the young man was becoming utterly certain that it and the events of the past day could possibly become the absolute worst time of his life. Not only had he been shamed by his failures, the monstrous miscegenationist responsible had, in the way of an animal that shunned humanity, chosen to purchase from the Magi☆Mint Chip Ice Cream stall attended by him and his comrade in a coincidence that could almost be a conspiracy.

Many would have descended into inelegant blubbering at such a realisation, but he had not been laid so low that he would so easily forget his dignity. To debase himself so by entertaining the very thought that the very machinations of fate itself were arrayed against him was disgusting, and the mere idea so repulsive that his choler could almost overflow. But he refused to. No matter how much he despised contact with the Euroweeb, his sense of professionalism allowed him to perform his assigned duty elegantly and with dignity. And though he was very much aware that the animal recognised him (the sniffing could not be mistaken for anything else), he could not so publicly rid himself of its desire to mockingly meddle with him.

But when the lights snapped out of existence and the pall of black fell over every single despicable guest, the young man who acted in accordance with the name of Gandharva took his opportunity to act.

The pistol slipped into his hand.

He raised it.

And -

---

@DarkwolfX37@Crusader Lord@Williwaw@Duoya@ERode
There were ten of them. Before the lights had suddenly been extinguished, they had surreptitiously spread out across the convention centre, establishing points everywhere but the separate hall that contained the stage area. From appearances only, they appeared to be little more than regular con-goers, fellow Kanamin fans who had come to enjoy in all that Kanacon had to offer. However, they were but wolves amongst the flock, and when the entire floor turned pitch-black, their true nature emerged.

Even amongst the noises of confusion and surprise, the sound of weapons being armed were still very, very distinct.

But before any one of them could speak, to declare their objectives to those on the main floor, the doors to the concert hall slammed shut, one by one, each with an almighty bang.

And the gunshot rang out.

---

- the phone in Brennan's hand shattered.

He had changed his mind.

Gandharva grabbed his comrade and started running, their bodies shimmering only for a moment before they disappeared from view. Behind them, at the stall they had abandoned, nearby customers were screaming, absolutely unprepared for the prospect of an active shooter situation. And the chaos spread from there, filling the entire convention floor with even more panic. It was an inelegant and crude consequence to his choice of action, but there was nothing else he could do but extract them from the situation as quickly as possible.

Any initial goal of theirs had been thrown into confusion. As loathe as he was to admit it, he had no idea on what to do.

Who were these barbaric, bumbling men, and how had he failed to notice them?

---

The situation was quickly developing out of hand.

There needed to be order.

"Quiet!" shouted one of said armed individuals into a megaphone, the one that had taken point near the Kanamobile (the Kanamin-themed, solar-powered car that was the grand prize for the lottery) finally speaking up (although not before directing a colleague via headpiece somewhere). "All of you should play nice and shut up!"

His statement was punctuated by his holding up of a torch, its light cutting through the black.

"Now that I have all of you listening," he continued. "We'll keep it simple. None of you make another fucking sound, or try to call the cops, or try and play with a gun like whoever that smart fucking aleck and we'll find you, else we'll blow this place sky-high. Capiche? You dig?"

One second Umeko had been swept up in a hug, laughing and squirming as her picture was taken. The next the lights went out, and she heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot. Very close by. Her reaction was immediate, and oriented around her highest priorities. She pivoted, hard, yanking Brennan close and putting her back to the source of the sound half a second before pushing off with her other foot; even a small application of her ability was enough, under the circumstances, to overcome the token resistance Brennan unintentionally put up.

They hit the ground rather uncomfortably, though considering the Irishman's experience with buses none the worse for wear. And he cushioned her landing. It had been too late to do anything about the first shot by the time she heard it, but in the dark they were safe from any followups. Not that any seemed to come. She didn't dare make a sound, but warded off the dread that washed over her by checking his pulse from the arm that had been holding her. The cosplayer's other hand ran across his torso, working its way up until it had checked his shoulders and his neck for any entry wounds. To her great relief, she found none.

With relief came anger, and the consideration of what had happened. Only one set of people was likely to get Brennan's attention like that and be willing to take a shot at one of them, considering the mess she'd insisted they poke their noses into over the past few days.

With that anger came the decision that she wasn't done with either of those two convention employees.

A͓͞t̘̳̰ ͍̤̯̳̱̠̖a̺̖̩l̶͇͍̰̘̬͈l̟̪̫̖͟.̘̬̪̻

But in the mean time she had a bigger problem, as did everyone else in the convention hall. She wasn't certain it was unrelated, but it was certainly more immediate.

This called for a hero.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, by now, and she had heard the ringleader's spiel. Unfortunately, sitting still was one-hundred-percent contrary to her nature, soooooo.

"Brennan," She whispered, propping herself up enough to grab the sturdy prop staff she'd dropped to free up her hands. "I think they're underestimating us."

@Crimmy

---

Well this was peculiar. Not only were the lights suddenly off, but she could hear someone very confident in themselves speaking.

"Friends of Iguchi! Do not panic! Your lives will be safe as long as you listen to what I have to say!"

... Darn. Shion couldn't see a thing, so she pulled out a small metal lighter and lit it. Perhaps not as effective as a phone's flashlight, but much more discreet. As her nervousness rose so too did the temperature directly around her fall; she was using her ability to help keep herself "cool," literally and metaphorically. She looked around with her lighter, slowly moving until she reached the wall directly across from the stage, where she stayed and waited for the voice to speak again.

Hana’s thoughts drifted again to Kanacon, and the diorama based on one of the series’ most iconic scenes that she had donated to be given away as a prize for the charity lottery. The whole piece had been by far the most time-consuming thing she had made before, usually sticking mostly to simple statues. She had begun the project mostly to kill time during summer break, since there wasn’t much else to do—sure, she had had a lot of homework, but that had all been done within a few days.

The girl tapped through her phone, navigating to her Pixif.net page. Seeing her follower count made her jump out of her desk chair, the combination of restlessness and excitement forcing her quickly out the door of her room and into the halls of the dormitory. She had reached four-thousand followers, up from barely a hundred at the start of summer break. Documenting her progress on the Kanamin diorama had brought her a nice amount of attention due to the general Kanamin hype stirred up by the convention. She had tons of people commenting on her images now, and she loved replying to them as much as she could, often having full conversations. Though she didn’t know the commenters—neither their names or their real faces, it almost felt like having friends… or at least, how she imagined having friends felt like.

Stopping by the vending machine at the entrance of the dormitory, she fired off another reply and bought a bottle of water. Taking a sip, she scrolled down to the next comment—a screen name she didn’t recognize, so potentially a new friend. The comment opened with some praise, and then went into a suggestion asking her to make a diorama of his favourite h-scene—

Hana choked on her drink, coughing herself quickly to tears. There were a few girls in the dorm, and they began to give her strange looks, only one caring enough to say anything.

“Are you alright, Kanno-san?” she said after a moment of hesitation.

Hana nodded quickly and gave an unconvincing thumbs up. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine,” she managed between coughs, quickly leaving the building before the scene she had caused made her turn even redder.

After taking a moment to breathe, she glanced back at her phone incredulously. She… could see the appeal in the suggestion, but it seemed like such a strange thing to directly ask of someone like that. Well, it’s not like she knew who it was that was asking. Along with the extra followers, she had started to notice weirder comments cropping up more frequently, but that was to be expected. The girl chose to ignore this particular comment and slid her phone into her pocket.

Now the issue was finding something to do to burn her energy. Once again, she found herself regretting choosing not to attend Kanacon herself. Normally she would have—conventions were definitely entertaining, even if she pretty much always went alone. Along with all the sights to see, they also always gave her some hope that she’d bump into some nice people to talk to, even if that rarely happened due to her own timidness.

This time though, she chose not to go because of the diorama she had made. She had, of course, made it public to her followers that the purpose of the project was for it to be given away at Kanacon, but she hadn’t expected a side effect of that; dozens of people had messaged her, wondering if they’d be able to meet her at the convention. While that should have been a dream come true for the girl, it really gave her cold feet. Going to a con with the hope that she might meet people, but with no expectations to do so was one thing—but to go with the full intention of meeting up with strangers was a scary prospect to her. They probably wouldn’t like her very much in person, anyways. She was a lot more talkative behind her screen name.

So she had told the people who had asked if she was going that she was going to be too busy with school work. If she really wanted to, she was probably still fine to go to Kanacon; she had never revealed her real name or face on her Pixif page. Paranoia at the potential of somehow being recognized was keeping her back, even if she wanted to be recognized. Maybe. She sure thought she did when it wasn’t a likely possibility.

Hana was brought out of her thoughts, tossing a look over her shoulder. She clicked her tongue. Sat at a bench a few dozen feet away was a disheveled-looking girl, recognizable by her short black hair that still managed to be a wild mane.

Maybe the paranoia of being recognized wasn’t completely unfounded. Hana picked up her walking pace as subtlety as she could, turning the very next street corner.

This girl seemed to be showing up strangely often the past few days. Brushed off as a weird coincidence at first by Hana, she simply couldn’t ignore it anymore—every single time she had stepped outside, she noticed the black-haired girl at least once. While the girl wasn’t particularly intimidating-looking, it still made Hana’s heart race uncomfortably.

A few dozen seconds after walking down the street she had turned into, she glanced back over her shoulder. Sure enough, among other young girls going about their lives in the School Garden, she spotted the black-haired one with her nose in her phone, following in Hana’s steps.

Frustration growing, Hana tilted her head back with a sigh, trying to convince herself there was nothing to it… a sentiment that was immediately shattered upon seeing that same girl up on the rooftop of a tall building, a hundred feet away. Her blood ran cold as she saw sunlight reflect off something held in the figure’s hands. Hana wheeled around, seeing the very same girl still far behind her.

Well, she was officially spooked.

Once again, Hana wasted no time turning the nearest corner, making sure to cut off vision from both of the seemingly identical girls, and immediately broke out into a jog. Spotting a small cafe she was coming up on, Hana tossed one last look over her shoulder, confirming the black-haired girl was not in sight yet. Quickly, she made up her mind and slowed herself to a brisk walk, pushing her way past the doors and into the building.

The girl paused, trying to keep her breathing under control to not make an even bigger scene than she had by somewhat bursting through the doors. Face slowly turning red as she felt judging eyes on her, she tried to calm herself down from the stress that was causing her to breathe more heavily than she otherwise would have from such light exercise. She slid into the short line at the counter, figuring that appearing like she was here to buy something would help make her look less weird.

Her attempt to appear as inconspicuous as possible did bear fruit, for by the time the aging wooden doors behind her chimed once more to allow another customer into the cafe, the gazes of the other clientele were no longer upon her. However, that did not mean she was no longer an object of attention: the newest arrival to Café de Clieu had taken a spot in the line behind Hana, and in fact was somebody familiar to her.

“Kanno-han, good to see you,” greeted her classmate in her signature, lilting Kyoto accent. “I haven’t seen you come here before.”

The smiling, bespectacled girl standing there was Youko Wakahisa, a daughter of the Wakahisa Conglomerate that was prominent in not only the business world of the Keihanshin metropolitan region, but also the entirety of Japan as a whole. She was also a Level 3 Esper, one who sat two seats to the right of Hana in Shidarezakura Academy’s Class 1-A. And while they were not exactly “friends” in the truest sense of the term, the slightly older girl was always willing to greet her fellow students with friendly cheer, particularly if they were fellow Kansai natives.

It was a not-at-all disguised fact that Youko tended to gravitate towards other westerners.

“But now that you’re here, you should definitely try their iced coffee,” she continued. “It’s especially excellent, and you do look like you’re in need of one.”

Her observation of Hana’s physical state was punctuated with by a slight quirk to her lips.

Hana started slightly upon hearing her name. She turned a little more quickly than would be normal, taking a half second to realize that she was being addressed not by the black-haired girl, but by a classmate.

The girl blinked, before finally saying “Wakahisa-san,” with a small nod as way of greeting, her own accent less pronounced due to having moved around Japan so much. Hana glanced towards the menu above the counter. “… I don’t really drink anything other than water and sports drinks.” She frowned to herself—that wasn’t a particularly great thing to say if she wanted the chance meeting to at least be pleasant. Youko was one of the few girls in her class that Hana was able to imagine being friends with someday. Though that was mostly because Youko was friendly and polite to everyone, so it’s not like she was interested in Hana in particular, but… it was just one of those things to Hana, that made it easier to hope.

“B-But iced coffee sounds like a good place to start trying new things,” she said, managing to put a bit of cheer in her voice.

She paused again, unsure what to say—not helped by the fact that the apparent stalker was still on her mind. The girl gazed past Youko for a moment, scanning for the stalker through the windows of the store. No sign of her… though another distraction keeping Hana from focusing fully on trying not to mess up this conversation cropped up, in the form of her phone beginning to vibrate incessantly in her pocket from notifications.

“I guess that means you come here often?” she settled on asking her classmate. That seemed like an alright thing to say—maybe not the best, but definitely not the worst. She had personally done much worse far too many times.

The girl who had been in front of them in line moved aside, the employee behind the counter looking to Hana expectantly. This simple situation caused her heart rate to rise uncomfortably. She had just asked Youko a question! What was she supposed to do here? Make her order and force Youko to wait before answering the question she herself had asked? Or listen to Youko and make the employee wait instead? Either way, she’d be getting judged for being rude to somebody, right? Hana’s face began to redden as she froze, glancing between only two options she believed she had—all while her phone was still buzzing away, somehow just adding to the panic of the situation to the socially inept girl.

“I like to think I’m a regular,” was Youko’s smiling reply as she casually stepped past Hana and up to the counter. “That’s why Aki-chan here’s aware that I want two of my usual today, right?”

The aforementioned employee stared blandly at her. “You always buy one iced coffee.”

Youko waved her off. “I want to try something different and new, just like Kanno-han,” she declared. “And it would be very remiss of me - an injustice even! - if I recommended a drink and didn’t treat her to it.”

“Fair enough. Then it’ll be 800 yen today.”

She whipped out her debit card, tapping it against the reader to complete her order. It was an action she had repeated many, many times in her visits to the cafe, but for the first time in a number of months (her last visit with her friend was … probably around the Lunar New Year), Youko was paying for someone else as well.

“Why not find us a seat?” she said, moving away from the counter to address Hana again. “I’ll wait for the coffees, so you can answer that call while you’re sitting.”

Hana found herself blinking, calming down as Youko seemed to easily take care of what had seemed like a rising, insurmountable problem. To be expected really, from what Hana had seen of the girl already. Though she still steamed in light embarrassment, the panic was quickly gone.

She made the slightest move to protest having her drink paid for, but it all happened so fast, leaving her to only be able to nod at Youko’s suggestion.

Hana’s phone was still going off, though now there were some breaks between vibrations. As she slid into one of the tall seats at a small table for two, she finally took out her phone to see she had received messages to her Pixif account from over a dozen people.

She really wasn’t able to find any relief from stress today.

The girl quickly tapped to one message, her heart stopping when she read the contents. After a second of shock, she tapped to a message from another user, and then another, and another. All mentioning the same thing—a photo that had been posted on her profile’s message section by another user. She navigated to find the post itself, freezing up again.

It was a photo of her—her face in full view, stepping out of her dormitory’s main entrance, wearing the exact same clothes she had on right now. It was taken not even an hour ago. The user that posted it also left a comment, saying that it was her, and even revealing her real name.

She glanced around the cafe again, paranoia making her certain the black-haired girl would be around. She wasn’t. Hana turned her attention back the screen, reporting the user (whose name was a random string of digits) and removing the comment from her profile. The second she deleted, she paused, realizing that was basically her confirming the information was true, right? And it had obviously been seen by quite a few of her followers, if her glut of private messages were any indication.

No, that wasn’t necessarily true, she began to try and convince herself. Anyone making some sort of attempt to reveal her personal information was fully liable to be removed whether or not they were actually correct.

Either way, she was certainly more flustered and stressed than she had been in a long while.

And that was something that others could notice.

“Is everything alright, Kanno-han?” asked Youko with a note of worry as she returned from the counter with iced coffees in hand. “Um, sorry if I’m prying into anything, but you don’t look particularly well today.”

She gently placed Hana’s drink in front of her, before slipping into the opposite seat with her own coffee nursed between small, pale hands. In the face of the taller girl’s palpable anxiety, there was a genuine air of concern to her words.

Hana finally looked away from her phone, up towards her classmate. At the question, she hesitated before giving an unconvincing nod. It wasn’t something she wanted to bother Youko with, but… would it be weird to tell her? Now that she had asked, it might be rude to play it off as though nothing was the matter, when clearly something was off—Hana had never been the worst at hiding her emotions, but the photo shook her enough that she knew she appeared worried.

“I, um… I think I’ve got a stalker…” she finally said, with a forced smile as though to say it wasn’t a big deal. She looked away quickly though, unable to keep up that facade for any amount of time. After another second in thought, deciding if it was fair to bother Youko with this, she spoke again. “I think I have an idea of who it is though—I’ve been noticing one girl in particular often whenever I’m out lately… well, uh, it might be two girls who look really similar? Or someone with an ability that lets them appear in two places or something. It seemed like I was being followed by them today, which is kind of how I ended up here…”

It seemed that once she finally started talking, it got a lot easier for the red-haired girl. She glanced between Youko and her phone for a moment, before navigating to her Pixif page and moving the phone along the table towards Youko. “I have this art page… it’s gotten a lot of followers lately, and somebody posted a photo of me here, just now.” Hana navigated to an archive of all comments on her profile, accessible by herself and whatever moderators the site had, finding the photo and comment with her real name that she had just deleted and showed the screen again to her classmate.

It was only then that Hana realized her hand was shaking lightly. She quickly pulled her arm back, turning her phone off, realizing she had been talking a lot more than was usual. “It… it should be fine, though. Next time I see her, I can confront her.”

But maybe it wouldn’t be that easy. While Hana wasn’t particularly afraid of any sort of physical altercation with damn near anyone, it’s not like she could go out swinging punches at this potential stalker. Even with proof that it was this girl, she still technically wasn’t allowed to deal with her herself—she’d need the proof, and then let proper authorities deal with it. The thought of it all, on top of her thousands of followers now pretty much knowing who she really was, was really not helping the anxious pit in her stomach.

Youko reached over and gently pushed the glass of iced coffee closer to Hana.

“Take a sip, Kanno-han,” she said softly. “There has to be a way to work this thing out.”

The girl directed an assuaging smile at her classmate, hoping to soothe the stressed-out state Hana was in. Even though they weren’t friends, the very nature of the problem wasn’t something Youko could (or wanted to) ignore.

“I don’t know how these things are resolved,” she admitted, placing a comforting hand on Hana’s shaking one. “But I’ll be here if you need anything.”

She paused for a moment, taking in a short breath as she brushed back strands of auburn hair.

“And, if it wouldn’t be a burden,” the bespectacled girl continued, “do you want any help?”

Hana followed the instruction, taking her first sip of iced coffee. She paused for a second, her mind taken off her stress for the briefest moment. “It’s good,” she said quietly, glancing towards Youko to see her smile.

Hana blinked quickly and looked away again as she felt the girl’s hand on hers, having to fight off an urge to jerk back—not that she didn’t appreciate or like the touch, but because she realized she was being comforted. She was supposed to be strong. If she wanted to stand out and be special, she needed to be strong on her own.

The girl bit the inside of her cheek as Youko spoke, willing the faint redness in her cheeks to disappear. It did feel nice to hear her classmate’s concern… but she couldn’t accept it. That was all backwards. Hana was the one who was supposed to help everyone else.

She opened her mouth, trying to find the words she wanted. “I… I’m sorry, Wakahisa-san,” she finally managed. “It’s rude of me to push this on you suddenly… I’ll be fine.”

Hana felt like making a quick exit, but she couldn’t quite find the courage to do that. Neither did she really have the courage to stay. She settled on rather timidly taking the straw of her drink between her lips and sipping slowly while her eyes looked off to the side, lamenting her complete lack of social skills among plenty of other things.

“I see.”

Youko hesitantly sucked in a breath of air, as if she wanted to say more, but the pall of anxiety over their table was too much for even her to cut through. Instead, she followed in her classmate’s footsteps, imbibing her own glass of iced coffee in silence. Besides the sound of the two sipping away at their drinks, it seemed that neither of them were willing to speak.

But the stillness wasn’t something the other Shidarezakura student could tolerate.

The clinking of ice against glass as Youko placed her drink down cut through the atmosphere of stillness like a knife.

“I don’t think it’s rude of you,” she said. Her youthful face was resolute. “Quite the opposite, I think. Even if I don’t know how to help you, even if I’ve never encountered this particular situation before, I don’t think it’s rude of you to want to ask me for help.”

She couldn’t just “un-involve” herself now.

“But it’ll be the height of injustice if I let you work this out alone.”

Her words were certain and precise. She spoke with absolute certainty in her belief.

And her smile was as radiant as the Sun.

“Sorry, I’m pushy,” she admitted, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, you don’t need to face this alone, okay? You can talk to me and anyone else about it.”

The girl had been all but literally collapsing in on herself throughout the silence, jumping slightly at the sound of Youko’s glass hitting the table’s wood. Though her nose was still pointed to the floor, Hana’s eyes stared up at her classmate from across the small table—the troubled girl found herself believing Youko’s words without question. Mm, maybe not… Hana still thought it had been rude of her to suddenly lay out this issue of hers to someone she hardly knew, but—at least—she fully believed Youko wasn’t upset about having to know about it.

The first thing Hana thought to do was suck down the rest of her ice tea in one breath, almost as a strange way of thanking Youko. She gasped lightly for air as she finished, setting it down on the table and sitting straighter.

Hana looked to Youko for a moment. “I’m… not great with people, if that wasn’t already painfully obvious. Things like this—social things, like talking to someone new, or less commonly having a stalker; they make me feel weak and helpless. Like I’m learning how to ride a bike again, except something… something doesn’t click. It never does, and I end up flat on my face.

“I hate that.” Hana paused for a breath, realizing she had gotten up out of her seat and was leaning over the table a bit. She felt her face redden a shade as she sat back down. “I want to get better at dealing with people. I guess… I think what I mean is I’ll… accept your help if it wouldn’t be too much of a burden. But no one else’s.” The girl looked down towards her empty cup.

“It’s hard enough for me to be so weak in front of one person.”

Youko gently shook her head.

“You’re not being weak, Kanno-han,” she said simply. “Not at all, I think.”

She held out a hand. There was no judgement in the action, no condescension - nothing but a heartfelt desire to give help to somebody that the heiress believed to need it.

“I think you’re strong,” continued Youko, taking a short breath through her teeth. “I think it’s fine to be worried. To hate that feeling of just … not person-ing good. That’s normal. But … even if it seems so frightening, you’re still going to trust me.”

“That’s not weak at all. Kanno-han, that’s real strong.”

“So -”

Her laugh seemed to bubble right out of her throat.

“- I, Youko Wakahisa, have to answer that trust of yours in kind.”

The situation was falling to pieces, the reverbrations of a gunshot enough to cause screams to erupt in every which direction, and the subsequent slamming and locking of the doors only caused further distress to everyone within. Yu-Ri hissed. It was a good decision to move out of the way, but she only had a general idea where the gunshot came from, and she was certain now that the executive wasn’t here. Or, if he was, his security wasn’t actually doing anything.

Actually, what the hell, where was the security?

The schoolgirl in mourning clothes narrowed her eyes, before dropping down onto the ground once more. Biding their time? Or already taken care of? Or were they all enemies to begin with? She clicked her tongue, cursing herself for not noticing it all earlier, before flicking off her phone’s light. What a pain in the ass job. But if the big man wasn’t here...

VIP rooms then? Or maybe just a quieter part of the first floor? Maybe they were hiding in the toilet. Maybe there was an emergency exit somewhere. And if there was…Yu-Ri had no intention of playing as a hostage for some bastard playing with the PA system. Drawing in a deep breath, she slid between con-goers quietly, carefully, heading towards one of the definitively-shut doors to the halls.

She let out a breath. Placed her hand against the door. And pushed it open.
@Crimmy

@Williwaw
@Crimmy

Haruma was ready for a lot at that moment - maybe they'd say that a teenager wasn't really fit for the company, and he'd have to invest online or something. Or maybe the girl would find the situation funny, begin to spread rumors at school. However, like many of the guests at Kanacon, he did not expect the lights to flicker off, plunging the area into darkness. Several long seconds passed before Haruma felt a presence in his hand - touch revealed it to be the lighter he carried at all times. Flicking it on, he was just in time to see the girl pull out her phone and use the flashlight feature.

That was much wiser. Then again, it wasn't like Haruma's power was especially wise - he wanted light, so it got him the most direct source it could find. Taking out his own cell phone, he mimicked Beppu in lighting up the surrounding area... Only to see her marching off on her own. Not like it really mattered to Haruma, in any case. He had her number and could contact her for that request she had any time he needed to. She began to shout out to the surrounding crowd and, ignoring her, Haruma addressed Kyuuichiro.

"I'm terribly sorry sir - it seems like the power went out. I am more than willing to wait for the power turns on before we see the inves-"

At that moment, a gunshot rang out throughout the convention, and a man with a megaphone began to loudly speak to the crowd. His threats, much to Haruma's terror, seemed to indicate he was related to the gunshots from earlier...

Immediately Haruma turned off his phone light and began to look for space to hide from the light of the torch. 'Shit, shit, shit, gotta get away from the light-'

Haruma tried to shake the thoughts from his mind, but he was worried it might have been too late - the last thing he needed was for his power to activate on the (presumably armed,) dangerous terrorists and knock their torch away. At the very least, he wasn't easy to anger. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally crush the guy's eyes or something, cause that would immediately start up some violence.

Doing his absolute best to appear nonchalant, or at least as nonchalant as possible in a full suit, Haruma slowly made his way over to the back of the Investor Booth. He had already made decent progress before another thought occurred to him, and he turned back, trying to make his way to Beppu without surprising her too much. When he was close enough, he whispered to her under his breath.

"C'mon this way, I'm gonna hide in the booth Kyuuichiro-san is in - that should buy us time to wait for help."

He didn't say it, just in case anyone could overhear him, but Haruma was definitely going to call the cops the second he felt he could get away with it - hiding behind the booths with the lowest volume and brightness on his phone might give him the opportunity to do so.

Kanacon
Aya Beppu
@Duoya@Crimmy

---

"Eeeep!" squeaked out Aya as the sound of an actual, factual, gunshot ran out through the halls of Kanacon. Despite Aya's earlier boastful claims, at the end of the day Aya was just a normal, well a certain definition of normal at the very least, girl. Sure she had some magic powers, but a lot of people had magic powers, but she was still but a high school student.

And it was shortly after that squeak, there was a brief glimmer on an opposing wall which featured an angry looking cat. Against the background of the city, the small black cat was bopping against a small pink mouse. Aya was mouthing the phrase of her dear cat Ken as she could not help but think of her cantankerous feline pal smacking a chewed up toy, which had sections of its faux fur removed leaving nothing but some brown wiring, making some jingling noises. Aya shook her head as she began to dismiss the thought, as well as bit more importantly, the image she had left on the wall.

Aya could feel her legs giving way as fear was weaseling its way into her heart. Of course she had her phone light on; but she did not pay attention to that as it frankly was less of a concern to Aya at this particular moment in time. After all, she already had most of her focus on the image she produced and removed.

Who knows what would've happened if she left that up?

Aya might've thought of something that would give away her location! Much like how leaving a phone light on possibly would; but that just slipped past her mind. Generally Aya didn't want to give away her location to terrorists working under Hans Gruber, it was a safe policy to work off of. Or in slightly less pressing, but still pressing to most, distress she might've thought of a real cute rescuer like from the movies and while Aya would explain such things easily and probably a bit too much to others, it isn't a conversation she wanted to have right now. Mostly Aya just wanted to, well, not get shot by a terrorist.

Fortunately for her there was just such a person that didn't want Aya to get shot! Well, maybe he did, but at the very least Haruma was offering help. "'Kaykaykay-I'mtotallyreadytohidenow!Heroicscancomelater!" frenetically mumbled out Aya as she gave a bit of a nervous smile during said speech. With that said she proceeded to follow the boy to the stand in order to valiantly hide and wait!

@HereComesTheSnow@GreenGoat@Plank Sinatra

Of the many weapons that Man himself could carry unaided, the bazooka was one of those that were very likely to cause a massive stir when fired in the vicinity of large civilian crowds. Even when not properly utilised (and thus prevented from reaching its full potential in the righteous cause of destruction), the mere act of launching the projectile contained within was almost guaranteed to be distracting, and every single one of the events that followed Hisui's rotational response were proof.

First: the pompadour'd, leather jacket-wearing individual engaged in combat with the two "do-gooders (classification pending)" was sufficiently distracted enough during his attempt to slap the projectile out of the air with his head-based hair that Shinjiro's kick landed true, snapping him back with barely enough time to "oof".

Second: the contingent of Anti-Skill, having arrived right outside the restaurant with their patrol cars, were inaudible despite their megaphones due to the noise of the bazooka (and the screaming of the other customers), and thus the trio of troublemakers were too distracted to grant the authorities' demands any attention.

Third: the distraction wrought by the collateral damage dealt to the MgRonald's increased, as the projectile fired by Hisui had still been knocked out of the way in time by the extending pompadour of the coughing young man currently on the floor, though "out of the way" was equivalent to "the other window" - a tidbit that resulted in glass spraying further over the restaurant floor.

Fourth: there wasn't a fourth, because rather than allow themselves to be further distracted, the two on the scooter and sidecar immediately vamoosed (though the one called 'Chief' did take the time to, despite the blood covering his hands, throw a large, jagged piece of glass at Hisui with the precision of a throwing knife). Everything cracked and clinked underneath their vehicle as they made their escape, barreling right out of the window it'd entered from and immediately trying to swing past a Anti-Skill cop car.

They wanted to run.

And jumping up from the floor with a wheeze was the remaining young man, his extending hairpiece lashing out like a hook at Shinjiro's head while he was still caught up in offense. Bazookas were distracting, and he was going to take advantage of that.

"I told you, you ain't getting past me!"

---

Yamada, Hisui
District 7

---

"Shut up, cherry boy." She said it completely straightfaced, with no noticeable inflections or rise, a matter-of-factly monotone in her sentence. "Go home and drink milk."

The noise from her gloves was very obvious now; short staccato explosions came from small chambers within, moving her hand quickly as the explosion forced itself through small openings placed strategically around it. Like a jet engine, it moved her hands far faster than she could by herself, though it was obvious she couldn't fully control the trajectory considering the chambers and exit valves were fixed, her hands just barely missing the shard of glass as it embedded itself in her shoulder.

It was personal now.

Almost as soon as the pomp'd out man moved towards the cherry boy, she generated explosions within the red boots she wore, propelling her far faster than any average jump as she rotated on her axis in a spinning kick from the side. Hopefully the boy had enough intelligence in him to attack from the other side in a pincer maneuver.

@Crimmy@GreenGoat

"Oh, shut your damn mouth!"

It was unclear as to whom these words were addressed in the tumult of action, but Karasawa's voice rang true through the fast food joint nonetheless. With everything happening at once, he really only had time to pin Hisui with a glare that intensified upon her retort, before their more mobile prey sped off in the scooter, dodging Anti-Skill and tearing up pavement—

Then something dark grew into the corner of his eye, sending every fighter's instinct he'd either trained in a dojo or on home turf ablaze. Was it a punch? A kick? He had no time to tell, but his reactions were sharp enough to defend against either. He turned back towards Pompadour, raising his right arm in a folded block, hand meeting shoulder and head protected behind the crease between bicep and forearm. Just as well, too, since he'd not quite managed to move his head off-line. The attack mercifully had skidded off of his arm instead of potentially clobbering him a new one.

Though, if this schmuck's got hair so hard he's willin' to clobber a man with it, I bet that shit's got a whole load of spray caked in.

Before the Pomp could retract his 'do for another strike, if that was indeed how it worked, Kara-han's smirk turned into something more savage than humorous.

Why not introduce it to a curling iron?

The grape-flavored lad helped himself to a fistful, and turned the heat up to something close to three hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

@ERode@DarkwolfX37@Crusader Lord
Her name was Yurugi Sae.

Once, the name would have been nothing but a byword for failure. A name that once would have been associated with "unemployment" and "dead-weight". A name that had once been granted to a once rising star in Academy City's animation industry, a talent that others looked upon in equal amounts of jealousy and awe. It was once the name of a girl who had once planned out everything. A girl who had once known the exact progression of her career down to the minute detail. A girl whose plans had once burnt up in the atmosphere, leading to the ruin that had once dogged her name.

Once, Yurugi Sae had been the victim of powers she could not oppose. Powers that had so callously cast her destiny into the swamps. Once, she had been a genius artist, violently removed from the industry before she could truly shine.

Once.

Yurugi Sae was no longer that girl.

Yurugi Sae had cast so much of it away so that she could stand here, above the masses of concert-goers and Kanamin stans, with the ability to the change the very fates of her fellow humans sitting right in her hands.

Yurugi Sae had discarded her dreams to become the greatest of directors for the sake of her vengeance.

For the sake of grasping hold of her own fate.

Yurugi Sae had taken control of the locked stage from the security booth above. Here, she was all-powerful. Here, her life was not a plaything. Instead, the lives of those below were. The masses, minds clouded with concern and fear, who would give their lives to her. To become the very pieces in her plans. Not even Iguchi, that accursed voice actress, held any meaning for her now. Only their lives, and the value that her hated enemies saw in them, were of any major import.

"All of you are my hostages!" her voice boomed through the speaker. "All of you, from the lowliest otaku to Yuka Iguchi herself, only live by my say-so! You can only leave if it is my will!"

Once, she had lost everything.

Then Yurugi Sae found her chance. A chance to fulfil her vengeance.

Even while she hurried her preparations to escape once her goals were fulfilled, even while she tried to account for the sudden appearance of the many armed individuals outside the stage she had so carefully locked down and isolated for herself, and even while her calls to the production committee faced numerous issues, she knew one thing. She had been given a chance. She would not lose it.

"I have a list of five demands for Studio Jaliax, the Orbit Portal Company and the Magical Powered Kanamin Production Committee!" she declared.

Her employers, and those producers who wronged her - she would take from them her rightful pound of flesh.

"One - The Orbit Portal Company will end its collaboration with Kanamin immediately!"

"Two - All funds allocated to the Committee should be redistributed and its members dismissed from all positions!"

"Three - Jaliax Studio will cancel all contracts with foreign studios are hire only within the country!"

"Four - Jaliax Studio will no longer be granted the right to fire at will!"

"And Five - The fourth Kanamin season will be cancelled!"

There was movement by the doorway, but she couldn't let that stop her right now. It would only hurt her declaration if she allowed herself to be so easily distracted. She needed to take every inch off her enemies.

"Every thirty minutes, I will select the same number of hostages as each unfulfilled demand and kill them, like ... SO!"

With a flick of a button, she directed one of the stage's performance lighting drones towards the door, the machine immediately spiralling out of control as it sought to crush the young girl attempting to make her escape.

---

District 7

It hadn't been long since he got outside. Though he spent a handful of his hours outside, not many of them were spent productively. He thought he spent it decently- though, he always heard that he seemed to waste some of his time. It wasn't that he wanted to not be productive- he was just preoccupied with a handful of thoughts already.

"Don't get into trouble now, okay?"

Yes. His mother always told him to stay safe. He always tried to listen, of course, but he knew he also had to be flexible with any circumstance sent his way.

A moment ago, he stood by a takoyaki stand, having just paid for three takoyaki. He enjoyed takoyaki. No, enjoy was an understatement- he immersed himself with the taste of takoyaki. And as such, he waited, slightly more excited than he'd usually be. One could see him bob his head ever so slightly.

He would talk to the cook if he or she initiated a conversation. But as long as they made and focused on the takoyaki, he made sure not to disturb them. Such was the way of people who wanted the best of the best from such foods.

It didn't just apply for takoyaki, however. It applied for most foods and cooks. When he cooked at home, his family could talk with him, but most of the time, they would let him focus on some of the more intensive procedures he took to cook, especially ones he could hurt himself in. Even his sister, who spoke with him a lot, would get a lot quieter when he cooked.

Respect? Perhaps, but the principle of safety and quality stood more prominently for him.

His eyes remained fixated on the takoyaki stand.

Standing with his hands clinging to each other behind him, he quietly waited for his food. Takoyaki was a simple food, but also one that practically exploded delicacies as he chewed on it. He couldn't wait to eat it.

Unfortunately, a literal explosion erupted all of a sudden. And it did not come from the takoyaki stand, for sure.

Blinking, Jun Takachicho turned, the sound of an explosion unfamiliar to him. If he remembered correctly, the direction of the noise would be at MgRonald's direction, which was down a corner nearby.

An accident?

No, the explosion sounded extremely odd. He remembered hearing machines let out small explosions after having gone faulty, and that in itself was rather rare to hear. This sounded much more menacing, however.

Worry settling in his heart, he briefly glanced at the takoyaki stand's direction, only to find its owner... gone?!

Jun looked around hastily, though he ended up smacking his cheeks with his hands. He might've just been ripped off for a hundred yen, but there were more concerning matters.

Particularly, the sound that had disturbed the cook.

With his hood on, Jun Takachiho ran forward. He felt the wind blow through the gaps of his clothes, chilling the heat his body built slowly. Focusing solely on running, he silenced the entire world for himself. Only his footsteps rung like bells to his sense of hearing, yet to others, his feet made no sound at all.

Short breaths. One breath after another, he remained silent as he rushed past the streets. From his understanding, the source of a certain disruptive sound happened to be very close during his walk. So he ran with all he had.

The sound...



...right...



A scooter. A scooter burst out of a window of MgRonald's.

That didn't look like an accident. Also, he swore he saw a bazooka in the restaurant for a moment, but he quickly paid attention to the scene.

Wondering what to do, his heart skipped a beat as his mind quickly began to process the situation. At the moment, he was much closer to where the scooter was headed, but there were people in MgRonald's. Not to mention, all the Anti-Skill officers at the scene could make things problematic if he used his ability too recklessly.

Seeing that the scooter was closer to him, he focused his attention on that instead. He had no idea who was riding the scooter- all he knew was that it came from a very damaged fast food restaurant, and it was about to swing itself over a car.

And now that he thought about it, there wasn't much he could do in the situation. He couldn't use his body because he didn't sport a particularly impressive physique, and he obviously couldn't run at the same pace as vehicles, even with his ability helping him. Coming up with a split moment decision, he simply raised a window-sized sound barrier in front of the scooter's aerial path. Ironic, considering it just broke through a window, but he had no time to think when he got there.

A city full of super-powered children, and not a single one of them capable of influencing what was happening right before their eyes. If it wasn’t for how shitty of a situation this currently was, Yu-Ri would probably smile about it. Alas, her escape attempt had caught the eyes of the stage-hijacker after all, and the Chinese ESPer clicked her tongue, immediately abandoning her attempt at exiting. She pushed away from the door, dropped low, and tumbled, grazing underneath the massive drone a second before it would have pulverized her against the heavy doors.

Her dark gaze turned upwards and around as she stood up, legs coiled and ready to run. How many more of these ‘weapons’ was this psycho going to spend on going after her?

Ugh, why couldn't she just have a simple job for once?

---

As soon as things began to hit the fan Akari had begun to act, even as the doors were slamming shut and someone was calling out to them over the PA system about how 'their lives would be safe' as long as they listened and played along. A cool, calm expression was donned upon the redhead's face as she held her hands low in front of her as if standing in line to wait for ordering food at MgRonalds. The many bodies about her hid her hands at least, and among the crowd it was perhaps harder to discern her from other cosplayers in the bunch.

When it was safe to glance down at her watch, she did so, even as her fingers ran across her watch and were typing away.



Back in Akari's room, a computer system whirred to life, screens blinking on and views of stocks switched over to a dizzying array of applications, folders, and files that seemed to be an 'organized mess' at best. A synthetic voice rung out over the computer's speakers, far away from the Kanacon halls, greeting a master who wasn't immediately there at the moment.

Truthfully, for Akari her main computer was only a button away to access her own computer via this watch, how else had she been keeping track of her stocks all the way from here? From here she could input some simple commands for the system to start a few processes. First was to send an automated email about the danger to Judgement's HQ, without she herself having to type it. Secondarily, her computer would be starting to run a pre-prepared program, something she'd toyed about with last week after building it...but had not finished testing.

But, this was a time when she maybe needed it most, beyond the scope of it being an amusing thing to tamper with.



Said program transformed her watch into essentially a mobile "sensor" that her computer was utilizing to search for and access wireless signals in this area. Things like controlled drones, or other potential "access points" to get into the con's systems with. It also was meant to piggyback off of other local devices such as phones to assist in this, as the initial range coming from her watch rather "small"...at least until it silently 'piggybacked' off of enough devices to greatly increase its range.

Even if it just potentially granted her access to control some nearby wirelessly controlled devices and systems, that could be...yes, a good starting point or if she could attempt to subtly interrupt whatever these terrorist's actions here were going to be.

This all being said...it would take some time for her program to run its course and get back to her. She'd have to bide a little more time, hopefully not dying in the process, before she'd hear back from her computer.

As the drone popped down, Akari looked back to where it was headed, even as it attempted to smash another girl there into a red pulp. Grimacing at the scene, Akari looked down at her wand....wait! That was it! The redhead pulled the wand up to her, popping off the back to where she'd installed the taser. She began fiddling with a small dial that sat there amidst wiring and a black casing, numbers around it denoting the output power of the device. Currently she had it turned to 'safe', but if she turned it up a bit...well, enough not to fry in one shot...maybe this could work.

In a minute, the entire convention had gone to hell. To most of the cosplayers inside, being taken hostage was certainly a shock, and they were no doubt cowed by the gunshot, the bomb threat, the loss of power...it was a lot to take in. Brennan's heart had jumped at the gunshot, and his wrist had snapped involuntarily when the bullet hit the phone. Some of the glass from Umeko's screen and camera had wound up buried in his hand. But it was nothing compared to what a bullet in the heart would have been.

Either the asshole who had just served them ice cream was no crack shot, or the bullets had been unable to pierce the thick meatshield that was now frisking him for injuries.

"Babe," he hissed quietly, although he knew she wouldn't take him seriously, "I'm fine, fook dis, let's--"

"Brennan, I think they're underestimating us."

Oh.

So that was the play. As Brennan's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he started to make out the familiar features of his lover - and, in contrast to the serious cast of her face, his face broke into a wolfish grin and laugh. He brushed most of the glass off or out of his hand, smearing his pants with blood, and shook his hair from his eyes.

Fighting in these conditions would be nothing new. Although Academy City was so well lit during the midnight hour that it hardly counted as night at all, Brennan did most of his best work under the cover of darkness. Umeko had known how to handle herself in a fight as long as Brennan had known her, too, so that would be no issue. If anything, these conditions had set up a series of disadvantages for those who thought that the two aerospace students were their hostages. After all, it was unlikely as hell that anyone amidst this cabal of lunkheads, with their garish bomb threats, had actually seen the Papal Bulls arc of Kanamin Integral. Alexander Boniface, the Catholic witch hunter who had turned a local cram school into his summoning circle for shadow familiars, had tried to blanket the whole of Tokyo under darkness with the power of his shadow familiars, the Papal Bulls. It had looked like it would be a cour-length arc until Kanamin teamed up with her rival to put an end to him in two episodes flat. Something similar was bound to happen here if the couple put their heads together now.

Why use Boniface so early in the show, anyway? He had a pretty unique villain design, and they dropped the fuckin' ball casting Sugita for a season-starting bit-length villa--

...

Umeko was staring at him like she could read his thoughts.

I'm breaking up with you.

Her reaction didn't change. Maybe visions of the same arc just happened to be running through her head; her knowledge of magical girl shit was far more extensive than Brennan's, who had just absorbed things through osmosis while lounging on the couch with her, after all.

"Hit me wit' it."

---

@GreenGoat @HereComesTheSnow

"Hrrrgh."

In most occasions, one could smell burning hair before they actually felt any pain from it. It was the acrid stench that notified them that something was going terribly wrong with their follicles, and that they should cease whatever attempts at styling, dying, or follicle restoration that they were putting their hairstyles through.

In the case of the pompadour-wearing young man, styling was practically an afterthought in the mornings. His hair had darkened since the days of his early youth, sure, but that had more to do with his genetics than any sort of coloring that came from a bottle. Speaking of genetics, he was also quite self-assured about the state of his own hairline and follicle density, having thus far avoided the dramatic temple recession and slight thinning that most of the men on his mother's side of the family had dealt with in the turbulent stages of their own youth. His hair was very rarely a problem, and more often served as a problem-solver.

This lunkhead's esper power was going to be a problem.

Grunting slightly as the unpleasant scent began to translate into real pain, the pompadour-wearing man seemed to give in to the natural human instinct of anyone who touches a hot surface - rear back. His hair, however, reared back too against Karasawa's touch, and began to mold again before the eyes of the two restaurant patrons. It did so with surprising force, and Karasawa's hand and wrist were nearly jerked into an unnatural angle as his hairstyle turned into a sidecut - the long on one side, buzzed on the other 'do that had become a fad amongst ravers and the bad electronic dance musicians they patronized. The side it had grown long on - the young man's left - reared up to smack into Hisui, throwing the airborne girl out of her arc before her kick made contact. Karasawa's burning touch had more success in harming him; the young man's teeth were still gritted in frustration and pain, but the New Yorker's wrist had been jerked hard, and as the pompadour-wearing criminal (now a sidecut-wearing criminal) had turned left so his hair would strike into the girl, so too did the man with the magic mane line up a lush left towards Karasawa's liver.

"You're looking scruffy," he said to the boy with the burning blood. "You should try my regimen sometime. It's Vital Sassoon!"

ESPER NAME:
VI
TAL

SAS
SOON!

---

@NaraK

"Chief, ahead! We're gonna hit a kid!"

"C'mon, Isami, make the jump! Where's your sense of the dramatic?"

Isami usually saved her sense of the dramatic for the powerful, award-winning documentaries she often screened in her fair time. A sizable number of them had to do with the meat packing industry or with the corners cut by the global fast food conglomerates, which were growing increasingly sloppy with their food, cruel with their hiring practices and wages, and automated from management down, leading to no accountability for the harm they did to workers and consumers alike. Chief didn't like that kind of drama, though. He liked chicken nuggets and a good C-movie where nameless yakuza were regularly punched in the throat by a clean-cut young actor who the studios thought could appeal to Western audiences. There was nothing wrong with that in theory.

Until you tried to live it in practice.

"I'm going around him!" she yelled.

"Isamiii! Where's your sense of excit--excruci--_whatthehell--exuberance!?"

"I'm going around him!"

If they had only been of one mind instead of trying to argue about four-syllable words, they might have been able to make the jump without harming Jun in the first place. Instead, Isami chose to attempt to go around both the vehicle that Chief wanted to jump and around the sonic barrier Jun had set up to stop them. One was more successful than the other.

They clipped the very edge of the sonic barrier, driving a thin needle of sound into both their ears that dissipated within seconds, leaving Isami's ears ringing slightly but none the worse for wear. It was the situation of the trike itself, which had clipped the barrier with its sidecar, that was growing increasingly precarious. Though its three wheels afforded it considerable stability, it was now tottering precariously on its sides as Isami tried to overcorrect her steering and recover from the barrier.

Though not considerable, there was now a risk of it capsizing to the right if they weren't careful - or if the boy they'd avoided in panic could make any more efforts to halt them.

@Crimmy@GreenGoat@Plank Sinatra

"Agh!"

Just as much surprised as he was pained, Karasawa let out the natural reaction to having your hand, wrist, elbow, and shoulder torqued at angle they weren't supposed to go. What was formerly a grip was now something more like being caught in a net as the man's hair had quite truly transformed around him, his thumb seized and twisted away from his body. A fan of mixed martial arts or submission grappling may have called it a passable attempt at and americana, but our lavender lad had other names in mind.

Fucker! What the hell is this shit?! An extenzo-pompadour and now an aikido-fade?

However, a little discomfort never stopped a Shinjiro Smackdown, nor did it turn off his searing heat. If anything, the anger would make things worse.

He grit his teeth, clamping his jaw shut so as to not allow Vital Sassoon the pleasure of knowing he'd caused any more pain. If his arm was being twisted, he knew it best not to antagonize the rotation by moving any direction that wasn't along with it. Twisting to his right, towards the that same twisted shoulder, he braced—

And took the hit intended for his liver square in the taut abdominals instead.

He exhaled, shortly, sharply, and in a manner most controlled. This wasn't getting the wind knocked out of him; this was the culmination of years of Kyoukushinkai, where punches were only allowed to the body, and streetfighting, where taking hits was as commonplace as nitrogen in our atmosphere. He knew how to handle a harsh impact to the gut.

Still, though, what business did hair have feeling like a solid shovel hook? This guy was trouble. Especially if Karasawa hadn't yet run him over with the help of Party Popper over there.

Next, he rolled, diving over that right shoulder. More than simply looking fancy, this had a simple and entirely reasonable purpose.

As he somersaulted over his back and landed on one knee, Karasawa found his whole arm feeling much more natural. The whole body had to rotate to match the twist, and now that everything was properly aligned?

"Shoulda let me go, dumbass!"

Kara-han was free to use that burning grip and YANK, lining up a livid left straight of his own for Bad Hair Day's jaw.

Yamada, Hisui
District 7

---

Her eyes tracked his movements, her mind already tracing and deducing his next move, but her body was slow and sluggish, the best she could do was putting up her arms so it didn't hit her full force, especially where the shard was still embedded. Hisui landed a few meters away, her guards up while her mind was processing everything that happened. This person, judging from their ability, and their control as well as their ability's strength, was at least a level 3. Hisui was a level 1, her specialty was not in close range, and she had nothing on her at the moment to tip the scales. That does not, however, mean Hisui was defeated, just yet.

Thus with all those factors in mind...

"Good luck, Cherry Boy!" Hisui encouraged the boy, already in the middle of retreating through the kitchen. "Beat up Rival Raccoon!"