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JUNE 11TH, 2030, 2:00 P.M. LOCATION: CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY FAIRGROUNDS, MAIN STAGE "Attention all guests," a man called out, the use of a microphone and amplifiers ensuring his voice carried across the event at large. "President Jack Roosevelt will now make his appearance." THE PRESIDENT As the crowds gathered for the main event of the day, the front hatch of Air Force Zero opened. And - in the company of two bounty hunters serving as his personal bodyguards for the day - out stepped the President, with a firm stride that spoke of both the confidence of a man who knew he had the power of an entire nation in his hands, but also the humility to not brag about it. As he stepped up to the microphone stand, he casually switched the microphone off, put it to the side, straightened his tie, and began to speak. Despite the microphone not being on, his voice easily was loud enough that the entire crowd could hear him. "Citizens and guests to the United States alike, I would like to thank you all for attending today's festivities. Now, all of you are surely eager to return to the rest of what this centennial anniversary has to offer, so in the interest of saving time, I will try to keep this brief." Roosevelt began to pace along the stage's length, casting his glance across and throughout the crowd as he did so. "On this day, one hundred years ago, the very planet we live on was nearly ripped apart at the seams. The Crisis ended on this very day, and while many of us may take it for granted, it would be negligent to forget that it did happen, or to take such a catastrophe lightly, despite the distance time has put between us and it. Untold lives were lost, either as casualties of unexplainable events that occurred during The Crisis, or in many cases, victims simply ceasing to exist. The sea level sunk lower and lower, and land moved in ways that defy our modern understanding of plate tectonics, affecting the economy, climate, and geography of the entire world. Nations rose and fell in the ensuing chaos, but the United States of America has endured." Behind the President, a map unfurled from the stage's support beams, showing the modern layout of the United States. "However, this resilience should not be mistaken for invulnerability. Just one century ago, our nation was a union of forty-eight states, but today, only thirty remain. Six states disappeared entirely during The Crisis, and another twelve were lost in decades of war against our neighbors to the south, the New Aztec Republic. The last hundred years have not been ones without hardship for America, by any means. And yet, here we are." "It has been a honor I can't very well describe to serve as this great nation's President these last few years. And I do not want to see another century of hardship for her future. It is for this reason that I've striven to see our lost states returned to us, without further bloodshed. It is for this reason that I have worked tirelessly, spending many sleepless nights talking to scientists and advisors, to try and discover the root cause of The Crisis. The future is a tragically uncertain thing, but I believe that in that very uncertainty, one may find for themselves the ability to shape the future, if one is brave enough to look. That is why I stare the future dead in the eyes, and why I promise to use every resource I have, and every power within my authority, to ensure that by the time I am forced to step down from my office, the United States will enter an age of peace an--" BANG! The sound of a gunshot rang throughout the fairgrounds, stopping the President's speech dead in his tracks and causing the crowd to break into a panic. Not even stopping to feel around on his body for wounds - though he would surely be thankful to not find any if he checked - Roosevelt took on a firmer tone. "Everyone, remain calm. Please follow our security detail away from the venue in a swift, but calm manner." Turning around to his two personal bounty hunters, Roosevelt spoke at a more normal volume to them specifically. "You two, time to work. Try not to kill anyone." His eyes seemed to want to look more at Magpie as he said that last part, but they refrained from doing so. Back in the crowd, meanwhile, everything was already going to shit. While many within the crowd were doing as they were told, trying to get out quickly - though not always calmly - it seemed some within the crowd had plans of their own. "♥☺►¶§↕♣!" From within the crowd, a man's voice called out in what certainly didn't sound like a human language, causing a pair of large, spectral arms to erupt from the ground around him, grasping at crowd members trying to make a break for it. "↕♣♀♣☺‼♣!" The arms swung around, before throwing their captors at the main stage, using them like human projectiles with which to assail President Roosevelt. Those who managed to avoid the arms, however, may have found themselves tripping as they continued to make a break for it. Those who tripped looked beneath them, to find thick, thorned roots that weren't there before, wrapping around their feet, only to be approached by a red-haired woman. "Rotten luck, attending this festival. Sorry about this, but peace isn't an option these days, so sit tight and watch Roosevelt up there eat shit, alright?" And then there was - between the two of them - another young woman. One who seemed just as shocked at this sudden development as the rest of the crowd, if not more so. But rather than escape, her attention was fixed purely on the stage and those standing upon it. Suddenly, from beneath the stage, what could best be described as skeletal arms made of a black mist erupted from under the stage, grabbing at and crushing the beams holding the thing together, trying to tear the whole stage down over Roosevelt and those standing near him. "This way, this way!" A woman within the masses called out, gesturing for others to follow her in a direction not covered by the three assailants. "I know a shortcut out of here, so let's not waste any time and get the escorting over with, okay~?" Further still, already breaking away from the rest of the crowd, was a young girl, who stopped only briefly to look back at what was happening before continuing to make her getaway. Those near her, or otherwise with an observant eye, would notice the object hanging from her waist. A gun. "One of 'em's escaping!" Magpie called out from atop the stage, leaping into action and pursuit, chasing down the girl with the gun.

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 12:05 P.M. A girl sat in a chair on the inside of the plane, twirling her parted bangs nervously, paying a special attention that one would had they done up their hair in a way they weren’t accustomed to. “Tazumi Nanashi?” “Ah! Yes! That’s me!” The girl lurched to her feet, though her movements made it look almost like she was carrying a heavy load, despite appearing to only be wearing a simple black and white jumpsuit, with a hoodie underneath. “Sorry sir, had my head in the- AHEM” she cleared her throat, as her voice started drifting into a different tone than the one she had started with, “sorry, had my head in the clouds! Hear that one a lot?” The instructor, or chaperone, or whatever precisely his job title was, seemed unamused. “Your jump time is thirty seconds ago. Have you checked both chutes?” “Thirty seconds?? SHIT-” without giving any indication of an answer, she had leaped out of the plane. She was plummeting, tilting her body down to increase speed and make up for lost time. She could see her target, Air Force Zero, extending its landing year and making its final descent below her. Alright, let’s hope this all works as planned… 8000 feet 5000 feet 2500 feet 1000 feet Forming her left hand, she struck herself in the center of her face, and her entire body, from the top of her head down, folded inward. With only a few more folds, her entire body had transformed into a full-scale Canada goose, seemingly made out of paper. Catching the wind on her folded wings, she started a high-pace glide, heading toward Air Force Zero at a high velocity. ~~~~~ “Hey, Tom, you see that?” One of the gunners posted atop Air Force Zero nudged her comrade’s shoulder, pointing toward the quickly-approaching psychic in the air, “dumbass bird is flying right at us.” Tom nodded, without looking up, his attention absorbed by the newspaper he was reading, “Damn Geri, didn’t know they had birds around here, good catch…” “Should we shoot it down?” “No, it’s a bird.” ~~~~~ 100 feet With a swoop forward, the origami goose unfolded back into the girl, who immediately pulled the cord on her parachute. Luckily, as she pulled a small folded rectangle out of her pocket, the parachute deployed properly and immediately slowed her forward momentum, causing her legs to swing forward. The rectangle from the girl’s pocket unfolded into a sharp-edged stencil that she stuck to the soles of her shoes. A series of tight accordion folds extended like a pair of springs on her sneakers, launching the stencil forward, colliding with the hull of Air Force Zero with an audible SMACK. Using the last bit of her forward momentum, the girl unzipped her jumpsuit, grabbing hold of either side and flapping them back and forth, as a storm of dozens of paper cranes flew out of the inner workings of her garment. The birds all flew forward toward the stencil, unfolding at the last moment into their original forms of what would appear to be colorful water balloons. As the vessels of paint struck the hull of Air Force Zero, aimed vaguely at the deposited stencil, the girl pushed back on the accordion falls, unhitched her parachute, and disappeared into the crowd below. After several seconds of paint dripping, the stencil fell down to the ground, revealing the vandal’s work. ~~~~~~ JUNE 11TH, 2030, 1:45 P.M. LOCATION: DUNK TANK Sports-ball “So you’re telling me, all I have to do to win one of those prizes is hit that target to knock him into the water? And even if it takes me one or two extra tries I still get a smaller prize?” A girl that bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the vandal who put graffiti up on Air Force Zero on such a momentous day as the centennial of The Crisis tapped at her chin, her eyes hidden behind thick black bangs. “Yup! All for a dollar! Up for the challenge?” The man held a suspiciously full bucket of money, considering how dry the heckler above the tank was and how many prizes were still on the shelf. One with a discerning eye may have caught on that there was something up with this carnival game in particular. “Count me in! I’ve already picked out my future prize!” the girl practically forced the dollar into the cashier’s hand as she grabbed three tennis balls. This should be easy enough. you already pulled off the tag of a lifetime, a simple carnival game is a joke for a smooth operator like you, Tsurumi. She set two of the tennis balls down on the ground, and took a stance that she remembered seeing a pitcher take when she saw a baseball game with her family years ago. Of course, she had never herself played the sport in her life, and as she went for the pitch, she stepped forward with the wrong foot. This prevented her from translating the momentum of her body weight into her arm, and as she let loose the ball, it hardly made it halfway to the target about ten paces away. In fact, even if she had the power necessary for the throw, it looked like she was about 20 degrees off of target. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” The heckler laughed so hard that he nearly fell into the water on his own, slapping his knee. “I thought you already picked out your prize! I hope it wasn’t one from the top shelf!” Despite her hair blocking direct line of sight, Tsurumi glared daggers at the heckler, picking up her second ball in a huff. She got into the pitching stance again, and this time decided to mix things up and stepped forward with the correct foot as she followed through on the throw. While the improved balance made sure that the ball went in the correct direction, she still had not managed to muster the power to actually get the ball all the way there. The ball sat in the grass, about 5 feet away from the target. “You know the target is way up here, right? You don’t get bonus points for hitting the ground kid. Come on, aren’t you going to try to redeem yourself and win something small on the last throw?” She had had just about enough of this guy. Alright. Time to hit these jackasses with MAXIMUM EFFORT. It’s like you hear in stories, the hero fails twice before finally succeeding on the third try! There wouldn’t be any dramatic stakes if the hero of the story just won right off the bat. I’m the hero, and “I’VE GOT THIS!!!” THIRTY SECONDS LATER “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN’T COUNT IF I DON’T HIT THE TARGET HARD ENOUGH TO PRESS THE BUTTON” “Listen, girl, I don’t make the rules.” “YOU LITERALLY MAKE THE RULES. YOU JUST WROTE THAT RULE ONTO THE SIGN AFTER MY BALL BOUNCED OFF THE TARGET.” “It wasn’t something I expected would be needed, most people have more upper body strength.” After a deep breath through gritted teeth, the girl let out a stunted growl toward the man in the dunk tank, as well as the man who took her money, then stomped off to watch as more and more people failed. Albeit not for the same reason she did. It had been nearly fifteen minutes before a blue haired girl in a cute jacket stepped up to the challenge. The first two throws went the same as each other attempt she had witnessed, veering off at the last second due to what she could only assume to be bizarre wind conditions. But as the mystery girl looked up at the sun, Tsurumil knew something was different with this one. “Hurry up, lady, clock's tickin'!” The ball was airborne. “STRIKE THRE-” The man was under the water. Childish Dreams As Tsurumi watched the victorious pitcher claim a prize, she found herself blushing. The mysterious girl of incredible ability claimed a toy penguin that even came with a sticker, and was walking straight toward the girl who couldn’t even throw hard enough for the target to register a hit. “Here, I saw how they were so mean to you, and decided to win this for you.” The girl was charitable as well as athletic! “I figured you would like the penguin, I thought the black and white design was cute. Just like yours.” The sentiment was nearly enough to make the girl faint, as all the blood left her brain and went directly to her cheeks, but after a few moments of basking in the idea, she turned around, seeing the winner walking away, penguin in tow. Tsurumi found herself once again caught in a maladaptive daydream. Hot Pursuit Tsurumi followed behind this mysterious girl for a few minutes, until she found the girl at a stand selling frozen treats. ADORABLE TASTE. Tsurumi patiently waited from the shadows, as the girl ordered a cone of soft-serve. Before the heroic pitcher had a chance to pay for her ice cream, she was gently struck in the side of the head by a small paper airplane. “Mm?” Sita turned her head in the direction of the paper airplane, plucking it out of its descent and turning her eyes toward the source. From the opposite side in which she turned to look, Tsurumi ducked forward, dropping a messy wad of cash into the hand of the cashier. “Hiya!” “Oh, hi!” Sita turned around to be met with a friendly face. Holding out the paper airplane, she commented “I think you dropped this? Or... no... because it came from that side. I'll have to find the owner.” She's dumb too! I found a cute jock type! “I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about! Just like the bill for that ice cream!” Tsurumi turned back to the cashier, pulling another wadded bill from her purse, “and that'll be a lemon popsicle for me!” Having received a snack of her own, she brought her attention back to the dumb pitcher. “It's the least I could do after you put that dunk tank bastard in his place!” “Oh, that! I thought something was fishy after the first pitch, but after the second one I knew he was cheating. So, I... miiiiiiiiiight have cheated a little bit myself. But that's our secret, as fellow victims of his scam.” Sita winked at her generous ice cream donor. She got to put a dirty stinking cheater in his place, and it looked like she was making a fast friend too! What a wonderful day! The wink was all but enough to floor Tsurumi, but she managed to contain herself to a momentary blush. “Wait, you're saying he cheated??” “I'm sure he did!” Putting up her ice cream cone as if it were the target of the dunk tank, and slowly moving her other hand toward it, she explained “When I did my second pitch, I took care to aim it perfectly and everything. But then…” Sita stopped her empty hand in its path, moving it in a completely different direction. “The ball totally changed directions, in a way that should be impossible! If he himself wasn't the cheater, he's definitely got a buddy who's in on it.” “No wonder I didn't manage to knock him down!” Tsurumi forced her popsicle handle into the girl's empty hand, before taking hold of her right shoulder and moving her arm in a circular motion she had seen athletes do before, “I'm something of an ace pitcher myself!” Her charade finished, she casually took her new friend's half-eaten cone of soft serve, as if it were the treat she had handed off moments ago. “Wait, that one's mine,” Sita said, reaching out for her ice cream and extending the newly-popsicle-held hand out as well. Tsurumi froze, her mouth already open to take a bite. If I go for it now, I can play it off as not having heard her. She pondered the option for a second, before realizing that her hesitation made it more than clear she heard. Frantically, she switched the two treats back to their rightful owners, “So it is! Almost made a mistake there hahaha! Nothing gets by you, does it?” “You get an eye for little things like that living the nomad life.” With a smile, Sita took a bite out of her ice cream, gesturing just behind her to her trusty scooter. “You get real perceptive real quick in that lifestyle. Oh, sidenote, you wouldn't happen to know a mechanic who could fix this thing, would you? I don't actually know what's wrong with it, though.” “A nomad, eh? You got a place to stay these days?” Tsurumi said, completely ignoring the question in an effort to advance her own ulterior motive. “This is my place to stay,” Sita grinned. Pointing out to the horizon behind her, Sita enthused “The sky's my ceiling, and the grass is my carpet floor. It's the best way to live, if you ask me. Everyone should try it once in a while! It's like camping, but more.” LOCATION: ELSEWHERE ON THE FAIRGROUNDS Among the hustle and bustle of the festival, walked a person who would stand out in any crowd. He was clearly visible from a distance away, as he was both quite tall, and did not walk upon the ground. Instead, each of his footsteps was met by a small platform of cherry blossoms that manifested into existence about six inches above the ground, so that his bare feet never touched the ground beneath him. His robes trailed behind him, flowing through the air as if it were water, completely unfettered by gravity. He turned his head, looking toward Air Force Zero, the crowd around it thickening as everyone awaited the President’s address. “I wonder if this shall differ…”

At least Shiki’s instructions were easier to find this time than some videotape hiding out in the back somewhere, Brian thought. Carmen seemed to echo his lack of enthusiasm, though given what little he knew of the girl, maybe that was just what she was like. He didn’t try and probe further into her or anything as they approached their destination building. He didn’t care to. The building itself looked innocuous enough besides the lack of police presence. An office space between a bakery and a barber could easily be used for both if the owners weren’t doing all their business needs on their laptops at the counters or whatever. Or it could be one of those rent-a-office type deals that Brian heard about years ago. Not that Brian was a big fan of renting in general, of course, but he only thought about it in his own terms. It wasn’t enough to just leave a building be haunted, especially based on speculation. Brian sighed. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with,” he said. “And not even in a ‘demon or djinn or spirit’ way. Last time, we had a pretty good guess where the thing was. Didn’t have to poke around too many bathrooms before we found her. Let’s see what’s back here.” He gave the back of the van a once-over. The box of seals was still there -- it looked like it hadn’t even been touched since the night before. They were definitely taking that. He also grabbed a spirit radio, tossing it in the box and hefting the whole thing up. Once Carmen grabbed whatever she wanted as well, he headed inside. It smelled like capitalism in there, which was normal for an office, but still, not the greatest. Brian was so used to the academic airs of a library or the sweaty miasma of the gym that he had to take a few breaths to get acclimated. The actual appearance of the office was normal, too, with the aggressively twee posters and a printer that surely only worked half the time and open workspaces because something something cubicles bad. There was probably an article about that somewhere, and a research paper about socialization. “Well,” Brian said. “Let’s get started.” He placed the box of seals in the center of the room for convenient access, turned on the spirit radio, and started moving around, listening to the random static for any hint of a word, or anything else that might betray paranormal influence. So far there was nothing, but there was no reason to get discouraged yet.